Chile’s vanishing horsemen and Europe’s car-free revolution: culture’s climate conscience

The last riders of Chile’s high plains

In the vast, windswept landscapes of Chile’s Andean foothills, a way of life is disappearing. The puesteros—horsemen who have spent generations tending livestock in near-total solitude—are fading into history, their existence documented in stark, haunting photographs by Dutch artist Pie Aerts. His images, published this week by The Guardian, capture not just the rugged beauty of their world, but the quiet tragedies beneath: alcoholism, isolation, and the slow erosion of a heritage that has survived for centuries.

The puesteros are more than relics of a pastoral past. They are living archives of a relationship with land that predates modern Chile itself. Yet their way of life is under threat—not from war or famine, but from the same forces reshaping economies and cultures worldwide: urban migration, climate change, and the relentless march of globalisation. Aerts’s work does not romanticise their struggle. Instead, it forces a confrontation with what is lost when traditions vanish: not just skills or stories, but entire ways of understanding the world.

For UK audiences, the puesteros may seem distant, both geographically and culturally. But their story resonates with a broader question: how do societies preserve identity in an era of upheaval? The answer, increasingly, is being written not just in policy papers or climate accords, but in art.

Europe’s cities: reclaiming paradise from the parking lot

While Chile’s highlands grapple with cultural loss, Europe’s urban centres are engaged in a different kind of reckoning—one that pits concrete against green space, and cars against communities. The European Prize for Urban Public Space, announced this week, has shortlisted projects that transform car-dominated infrastructure into climate-resilient havens. Roundabouts become splash pools; thoroughfares morph into gardens; parking lots are reclaimed as public squares.

The most striking example comes from Barcelona, where a former motorway has been reborn as a linear park, complete with native plants and shaded walkways. The project, Les Glòries, is not just an aesthetic triumph. It is a practical response to rising temperatures, offering residents a refuge from the heat island effect that turns cities into ovens. Similar initiatives in Paris, Vienna, and Rotterdam demonstrate a continent-wide shift: urban design is no longer about accommodating vehicles, but adapting to a climate that no longer tolerates the status quo.

The UK, however, lags behind. While London’s Ultra Low Emission Zone (ULEZ) has reduced traffic, it has not fundamentally reimagined public space. The contrast with Europe’s bold redesigns raises uncomfortable questions. Are British cities too wedded to their car-centric past to embrace radical change? Or is the political will simply lacking?

What these projects make clear is that climate adaptation is not just a technical challenge—it is a cultural one. The cities that thrive in the coming decades will be those that rethink not just their energy grids, but their very relationship with the land beneath them.

Glastonbury’s £400 ticket: the cost of keeping culture alive

As Europe reconfigures its streets, the UK’s most iconic cultural institution is facing its own reckoning with value—and values. Glastonbury tickets will break the £400 barrier for the first time in 2027, a £30 jump from 2025. The festival, which took a fallow year in 2026, is now firmly in the realm of luxury experiences, far removed from its countercultural roots.

The price hike reflects a harsh reality: running a festival of Glastonbury’s scale is an increasingly expensive endeavour. Inflation, rising artist fees, and the logistical challenges of hosting 200,000 people in a field all contribute to the cost. But the £400 ticket also underscores a broader tension in UK culture. As public funding for the arts dwindles, institutions are forced to rely on private revenue—often at the expense of accessibility.

Glastonbury’s organisers have long argued that the festival’s unique model—where profits fund charitable causes—justifies its premium pricing. Yet the question lingers: who, exactly, is culture for? When a weekend at Worthy Farm costs the equivalent of a month’s rent for some, the answer risks becoming "only those who can afford it."

The festival’s defenders point to its commitment to sustainability, from its on-site recycling efforts to its ban on single-use plastics. But as climate pressures mount, even these measures may not be enough. The real test for Glastonbury—and for UK culture writ large—will be whether it can balance its environmental and social ambitions with the economic realities of the 21st century.

Monty Don’s exit: the end of an era in British gardening

In a quieter corner of UK culture, another transition is underway. Monty Don, the beloved presenter of Gardeners’ World, will step down at the end of this year after 23 seasons. His departure marks the end of an era for British gardening—a pursuit that has evolved from hobby to cultural touchstone in the age of climate anxiety.

Don’s appeal has always lain in his ability to demystify gardening, making it accessible to novices while offering depth for enthusiasts. His Herefordshire garden, Longmeadow, became a character in its own right, a living testament to the principles he espoused: sustainability, biodiversity, and the therapeutic power of working with the land.

His exit comes at a pivotal moment. As the UK grapples with extreme weather—from droughts to floods—gardening is no longer just a pastime. It is a form of climate adaptation. Don’s legacy will be measured not just in the plants he nurtured, but in the conversations he sparked about humanity’s relationship with nature.

What comes next for Gardeners’ World remains unclear. But Don’s departure is a reminder that cultural institutions, like gardens, require constant tending. The challenge for the BBC—and for British culture—will be to find a successor who can carry forward his ethos in an era of even greater environmental uncertainty.

What to watch

The cultural calendar this week offers two starkly different portraits of modern Britain. On Channel 4, Dispatches turns its lens on Tommy Robinson, the far-right activist whose shadowy fundraising operations are dissected in a year-long investigation. The documentary arrives at a fraught political moment, as the UK’s relationship with extremism—and the media’s role in amplifying it—remains hotly contested.

Meanwhile, the Oasis reunion film, Don’t Look Back in Anger, offers a more nostalgic take on British identity. The documentary, which chronicles the band’s 2025 comeback tour, captures the surreal spectacle of 74,000 fans weeping, praying, and singing along to Wonderwall—a reminder that, for all its divisions, the UK still finds unity in its musical past.

Both films, in their own way, ask the same question: what does it mean to be British in 2026? The answer, it seems, is as complicated as ever.