Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Danny Coles, Senior Research Associate, Department of Engineering Science, University of Oxford; University of Plymouth

Recent disruptions to oil supply in the Middle East have sent energy prices soaring, reminding countries how vulnerable they remain to imported fossil fuels. At the same time, global electricity demand is expected to almost triple by 2050.

Wind turbines and solar panels will undoubtedly play the central role. But both depend on the weather: wind turbines stand still on calm days, while solar panels generate less in overcast conditions, and nothing at night. That variability is driving interest in more predictable sources of clean power.

One promising option lies beneath the ocean’s surface.

Tidal stream turbines work much like wind turbines, only under the sea. As tides flow in and out, predictably, twice a day in places like the UK, the moving water spins turbine blades to generate electricity. This power is then transmitted to shore via cables laid along the seabed. Unlike wind and solar, tides are governed by the gravitational pull of the moon and sun, making them highly predictable years in advance.

Governments are beginning to take notice. The UK and France are investing in tidal stream energy and plan to install at least 400 megawatts of capacity over the next decade; enough to power a city like Leeds or Amsterdam.

Other countries, including Canada, the US, China and Japan, are also exploring the technology, albeit with much smaller scale projects.

Despite this growing interest, a basic question remains: how much electricity can tidal currents actually produce, and where is it located?

I’ve teamed up with experts from around the world to help answer those questions. In our new research, we identified more than 400 potential tidal energy sites across 19 countries in Europe, the Americas, Asia and Australasia. These are locations where water flows fast enough, and at suitable depths, for turbines to operate.

Scientists typically describe tidal energy in three stages. The theoretical resource is the total energy in tidal currents. The technical resource is the portion that current turbine technology could realistically capture for electricity production. Finally, the practical resource accounts for constraints such as shipping routes, fishing activity and marine conservation areas. In practice, only a small fraction – around 1% to 20% – of the theoretical energy can actually be used to generate electricity.

Even so, the potential is significant. Across 90 of the most-studied sites, we estimate that tidal turbines could generate around 110 terawatt-hours of electricity each year – roughly equivalent to the annual electricity demand of Portugal.

Half the global resource in just six sites

Some countries stand out. The US, UK, New Zealand, Canada, China and Indonesia have the largest overall tidal energy resources. In places such as the UK, Indonesia and New Zealand, tidal energy could supply at least 10% of current national electricity demand. In larger countries like the US and China, the resource is still substantial but represents a smaller share of total electricity demand.

A striking finding is how concentrated this energy is, as more than half of the global tidal resource we identified is located in just six sites. These include the Pentland Firth between mainland Scotland and the Orkney Islands, the Alderney Race between the Channel Islands and France and the Minas Passage in a part of Canada known for the world’s highest tides. Two major sites in Alaska (Chatham Strait and Cook Inlet) are also among the most energetic in the world.

However, many of these locations are far from major population centres. Remoteness presents a significant challenge, as building the infrastructure needed to transmit electricity over long distances can be costly and complex. This is one of several factors that may reduce the amount of energy that can be practically harnessed.

Tidal power tends to be strongest in narrow areas between large islands or landmasses, where lots of water is “pushed through” the gap. But finding the most promising hotspots also depends on factors like seabed geography or localised ocean currents, which need specialised and detailed research.

This means there are gaps in the data. For many promising sites, particularly in countries such as Norway, South Korea and the Philippines, detailed measurements of tidal currents are still lacking. For this reason, global estimates of tidal energy potential could increase significantly as more data becomes available.

Our findings broadly support projections from the European Commission, which anticipates up to 8 gigawatts of tidal stream capacity in Europe. However, global projections of more than 100 gigawatts – roughly the electricity demand of the entire UK – remain uncertain without better data and more comprehensive site assessments.

With enough investment and data, plus careful site selection, tidal stream energy offers something rare in renewables: power you can predict years in advance. In an electricity system increasingly affected by the weather, that reliability could make it a disproportionately valuable part of the world’s transition to clean energy.

Danny Coles is a member of the Marine Energy Council. Danny consults to tidal energy developers. Danny Coles receives funding from UK Research and Innovation.

– ref. Underwater turbines are gaining government support – our research maps their global potential – https://theconversation.com/underwater-turbines-are-gaining-government-support-our-research-maps-their-global-potential-279509

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sam Wass, Professor of Early Years Neuroscience, University of East London

The UK Department for Education has just released guidance for parents on early years screen use, which I advised on as an expert. It includes recommended limits on the time children spend on screens. It also advises avoiding fast-paced content for younger children.

Recent research from the UK Department for Education suggests that over half of two-year-olds now spend over two hours a day watching screens. For the top 20%, that figure approaches five hours daily – more than a third of their waking life.

These changes have occurred rapidly, particularly since the introduction of smartphones. In 2009, children aged five to 15 spent around nine hours a week – about 1.3 hours a day – watching screens.

But the nature of what children watch has shifted just as dramatically as the amount of time they spend doing so.

Fifteen years ago, close to half of UK preschoolers tuned into CBeebies – BBC content aimed at children aged six and under – each week. Today, children’s engagement with content produced by TV companies is almost 75% lower.

Over the same period, short-form, on-demand video has expanded rapidly. Now, more than 90% of three- to five-year-olds use video-sharing platforms such as YouTube.

To illustrate what this means in practice, we can compare a 25-minute episode of the CBeebies show In the Night Garden from 2006 with a 25-minute slice of typical viewing from a four-year-old watching YouTube Kids (the latter taken from a recent US study).

The CBeebies episode followed a single narrative thread, with a stable cast of eight characters. The YouTube sample is made up of ten separate clips within the same timeframe, featuring 37 speaking characters. The editing tempo shifted from one cut every 16.7 seconds in the CBeebies episode to one cut every 1.5 seconds. There were sharp increases in visual stimulation (changes in light and colour) and auditory stimulation (shifts in pitch and volume).

Comprehension and attention

From a neuroscience perspective, we think this transformation has taken place because there are two ways in which content can hold a young child’s attention.

One route works through comprehension. Slow pacing, clear speech, exaggerated expressions and simple narrative structure allow children to follow what is happening. Comprehension drives attention.

The second route operates through attention capture. Rapid movement, abrupt edits and dynamic sound capture attention automatically. Even if we are trying not to pay attention to something, movement makes it hard to ignore. We think that we developed like this because, historically, motion signalled threat or opportunity. That reflex remains. Attention capture is immediate, involuntary and does not depend on comprehension.

Much contemporary digital content leans heavily on this second mechanism. It is instantaneous, and it works on everybody.

This shift to fast-paced content may, though, also have a role to play in the links between early screen use and later emotional and behavioural dysregulation: difficulties managing emotions and behaviour.

The reason is that young brains run at a slower tempo than adult brains. When environments are fast and unpredictable, the nervous system shifts into a heightened alert state to enable rapid detection of change. Brainstem systems involved in arousal become more active. The sympathetic nervous system – the same system engaged during fight-or-flight responses – becomes involved. In the short term, this may help explain why many children appear irritable or dysregulated when screens are switched off.

Finding patterns

Over longer periods, repeated exposure to highly stimulating, unpredictable content may contribute to broader patterns of behavioural and emotional dysregulation linked to screen use. A growing body of correlational research links high levels of early screen exposure with later difficulties in regulation and increased rates of anxiety. Correlational research shows that two things often occur together or in the same person – such as screen time and anxiety – but don’t prove that one caused the other.

Both behavioural dysregulation in childhood and anxiety in adulthood are associated with heightened brainstem and sympathetic activity – systems that are engaged by fast-paced screen content.

Much of the evidence remains correlational, making it hard to infer causation. However, some animal studies have experimentally exposed animals to doses of simulated screen time, showing that screen exposure causally affects arousal in ways that are consistent with the correlational findings.

Together, the pieces of evidence fit together in a way that is increasingly difficult to ignore – particularly against the backdrop of rising mental health difficulties in young children.

The government guidance recognises this faster-paced content – which is why the advice is to avoid it for young children. But history suggests that advisory-only approaches rarely shift behaviour at scale. If aspects of the current digital environment are indeed contributing to regulatory and mental health challenges, policy attention may need to move further upstream.

That would mean reconsidering the responsibilities of content producers and platform designers, not only parents. How exactly to do this, though, is fraught with difficulty – particularly at a time when the science itself is struggling to keep up with the pace of change.

Sam Wass receives funding from Leverhulme Trust RPG-2025-114

– ref. UK parents urged to curb fast-paced screen content for small children – neuroscientist who advised government explains why – https://theconversation.com/uk-parents-urged-to-curb-fast-paced-screen-content-for-small-children-neuroscientist-who-advised-government-explains-why-278732

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kerry Harris, Senior Lecturer in Sport Coaching, Cardiff Metropolitan University

Fifa’s latest decision to require every team in its women’s competitions to include at least one female head coach or assistant is, on the surface, a landmark moment.

The rule will apply across all women’s tournaments, from youth level to senior competition, beginning this year with the U17 and U20 World Cups and the Women’s Champions Cup.

In a sport where the technical area remains overwhelmingly male, the symbolism is powerful. But symbolism in sport is rarely neutral. It can signal progress while exposing how far the structures around it still have to travel.

Women’s football has grown rapidly in visibility and commercial value. Coaching, however, has not kept pace. At the 2023 Women’s World Cup, only 12 of 32 head coaches were women. Across some national associations, women make up as little as 5% of the coaching workforce. Against that backdrop, Fifa’s intervention is both unsurprising and, in many ways, overdue.

It is also an admission that organic change has failed. But there is a deeper issue. Research on coaching cultures consistently shows that underrepresentation is not the root problem but a symptom of more deeply embedded behaviour. Increasing numbers without addressing those issues risks leaving the foundations intact.

The timing, too, invites scrutiny. If the imbalance has been clear for years, why act now? And why only within the women’s game?

A problem contained within a single domain

The policy applies exclusively to women’s competitions. On one level, that makes practical sense. Structurally, however, it reinforces a familiar pattern. Gender inequality is treated as an issue to be solved within women’s sport, rather than across football as a whole.

The men’s game – where coaching pathways are more entrenched, better funded and more resistant to disruption – remains untouched. In effect, the responsibility for reform is placed on the side of the sport with the least power to drive it.

There is also a flawed assumption at play: that appointing more women will, in itself, transform coaching cultures. It may not. Women, like men, can reproduce the same patriarchal structures they have been socialised into. Representation alone does not guarantee change.

Policies like this walk a narrow line. Without intervention, inequality persists. But mandates risk introducing a parallel narrative: that women are present because they are required, not because they are qualified.

Fifa’s chief football officer, Jill Ellis, has framed the rule as an accelerant, designed to “create clearer pathways, expand opportunities, and increase visibility for women on our sidelines”. The logic is compelling.

Yet elite coaching is as much about perceived authority as it is about expertise. If female coaches are seen, however unfairly, as fulfilling a quota, the policy risks undermining its own aims.

There is another trap here too. The expectation that women will bring inherently different, more collaborative or empathetic approaches leans on gender stereotypes. It risks reinforcing the very assumptions that have historically limited women’s progression.

Visibility at the top does not necessarily mean readiness. Fifa has invested in coach development and nearly 800 women have received scholarship support since 2021. But the gap between training and elite international competition remains significant.

If exposure outpaces infrastructure, early difficulties may be interpreted as evidence that the policy itself is flawed. Sport is quick to remember failure and slow to acknowledge context. And if those stepping into these roles have been shaped by the same systems they are expected to change, criticism risks missing the point entirely.

Beyond visibility

None of this is an argument against increasing the number of women in coaching. Representation matters. It shapes expectations, broadens ambition and challenges long-standing assumptions about who leads.

But meaningful change is rarely immediate. It happens in coach education, in hiring practices, in mentoring networks and in grassroots environments where coaching identities first take shape. A mandate can open the door. It cannot, on its own, build the path.

Read more:
What makes a good football coach? The reality behind the myths

Without deeper structural change, such as in how coaching is taught, valued and practised, new appointments risk being placed into old systems.

Fifa’s decision is part of a broader effort to increase the presence of women in technical roles and align leadership with the rapid growth of the women’s game. It is not insignificant. It disrupts a long-standing status quo and will have visible effects, not least at the 2027 World Cup. But visibility alone will not transform a system.

If women on the touchline are to become unremarkable – as an expectation not an exception – the structures beneath elite coaching must change as well. Otherwise, mandates risk becoming what sport has seen before: gestures that are symbolically powerful, but structurally fragile. Real change will come not when women are required to be present, but when their presence no longer needs to be required.

Kerry Harris does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. A seat on the bench isn’t enough: what Fifa’s new women’s football rule gets right (and wrong) – https://theconversation.com/a-seat-on-the-bench-isnt-enough-what-fifas-new-womens-football-rule-gets-right-and-wrong-279194

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rebecca Payne, Clinical Senior Lecturer, Bangor University; University of Oxford

Millions of people are turning to artificial intelligence (AI) chatbots for advice on everything from cooking to tax returns. Increasingly, they are also asking chatbots about their health.

But as the UK’s chief medical officer recently warned, that may not be wise when it comes to medical decisions. In a recent study, colleagues and I tested how well large language model (LLM) chatbots help the public deal with common health problems. The results were striking.

The chatbots we tested were not ready to act as doctors. A common response to studies like this is that AI moves faster than academic publishing. By the time a paper appears, the models tested may already have been updated. But studies using newer versions of these systems for patient triage suggest the same problems remain.

We gave participants brief descriptions of common medical situations. They were randomly assigned either to use one of three widely available chatbots or to rely on whatever sources they would normally use at home. After interacting with the chatbot, we asked two questions: what condition might explain the symptoms? And where should they seek help?

People who used chatbots were less likely to identify the correct condition than those who didn’t. They were also no better at determining the right place to seek care than the control group. In other words, interacting with a chatbot did not help people make better health decisions.

Strong knowledge, weak outcomes

This does not mean the models lack medical knowledge because LLMs can pass medical licensing exams with ease. When we removed the human element and gave the same scenarios directly to the chatbots, their performance improved dramatically. Without human involvement, the models identified relevant conditions in the vast majority of cases and often suggested appropriate levels of care.

So why did the results deteriorate when people actually used the systems? When we looked at the conversations, the problems emerged. Chatbots frequently mentioned the relevant diagnosis somewhere in the conversation, yet participants did not always notice or remember it when summarising their final answer.

In other cases, users provided incomplete information or the chatbot misinterpreted key details. The issue was not simply a failure of medical knowledge – it was a failure of communication between human and machine.

The study shows that policymakers need information about real-world performance of technology before introducing it into high-stakes settings such as frontline healthcare. Our findings highlight an important limitation of many current evaluations of AI in medicine. Language models often perform extremely well on structured exam questions or simulated “model-to-model” interactions.

But real-world use is much messier. Patients describe symptoms in vague or incomplete way and can misunderstand explanations. They ask questions in unpredictable sequences. A system that performs impressively on benchmarks may behave very differently once real people begin interacting with it.

It also underscores a broader point about clinical care. As a GP, my job involves far more than recalling facts. Medicine is often described as an art rather than a science. A consultation isn’t simply about identifying the correct diagnosis. It involves interpreting a patient’s story, exploring uncertainty and negotiating decisions.

Medical educators have long recognised this complexity. For decades, future doctors were taught using the Calgary–Cambridge model. This meant building a rapport with the patient, gathering information through careful questioning, understanding the patient’s concerns and expectations, explaining findings clearly and agreeing a shared plan for management.

All these processes rely on human connection, tailored communication, clarification, gentle probing, judgement shaped by context and trust. These qualities cannot easily be reduced to pattern recognition.

A different role for AI

Yet the lesson from our study is not that AI has no place in healthcare. Far from it. The key is understanding what these systems are currently good at and where their limitations lie.

One useful way to think about today’s chatbots is that they function more like secretaries than physicians. They are remarkably effective at organising information, summarising text and structuring complex documents. These are the kinds of tasks where language models are already proving useful within healthcare systems, for example in drafting clinical notes, summarising patient records or generating referral letters.

The promise of AI in medicine remains real, but its role is likely to be more supportive than revolutionary in the near term. Chatbots should not be expected to act as the front door to healthcare. They are not ready to diagnose conditions or direct patients to the right level of care.

Artificial intelligence may be able to pass medical exams. But just as passing a theory test doesn’t make you a competent driver, practising medicine involves far more than answering questions correctly. It requires judgement, empathy and the ability to navigate the complexity that sits behind every clinical encounter. For now, at least, that requires people rather than bots.

AI has long been discussed as a threat to jobs and livelihoods. But what’s the reality? In this series, we explore the impact it is already having on different occupations – and how people really feel about their AI assistants.

Rebecca Payne works on the Health and Care Research Wales funded REMEDY project and also recieves funding from a University of Oxford Clarendon-Reuben Scholarship. She is a Fellow of the Royal College of General Practitioners and a Senior Fellow of the Faculty of Medical Leadership and Management.

– ref. Why AI health chatbots won’t make you better at diagnosing yourself – new research – https://theconversation.com/why-ai-health-chatbots-wont-make-you-better-at-diagnosing-yourself-new-research-278049

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Krisztina Ilko, Junior Research Fellow, Queens’ College and Affiliated Lecturer at the Faculty of History, University of Cambridge

In the medieval European imagination, racial difference was often highly polarised. Black people were perceived either as exotic status symbols – including saints and wealthy rulers such as the Queen of Sheba – or as subjugated figures, considered inferior to white Christians.

Yet, as my research demonstrates, the game of chess offered an alternative lens, creating a space in which players – regardless of their skin colour – could engage as equals.

Evidence from the Libro de Axedrez, Dados e Tablas (Book of Chess, Dice and Tables), a gaming manual completed for King Alfonso the Wise in Seville in 1283, reinforced my idea. The manuscript contains 103 chess problems, each of which is accompanied by text revealing the winner and an image. These illustrations show a wide array of figures, ranging from Jewish men to Muslim women. They include Asian, white and Black players.

One of its most striking illustrations shows a Black and a pale-skinned player facing each other across a chessboard. The latter has a shaved head, showing that he is a learned cleric. Yet, despite this signifier of intelligence, the text reveals that the Black player will win. In the “game of logic”, the triumph will be achieved by demonstrating superior strategic skills. The player’s mental prowess matters above all. As the Libro de Axedrez reasons, chess is an embodiment of wisdom, and those who study it become able to conquer others.

Another image in the manuscript shows five Black people framing the chessboard. In western medieval visual culture, scenes with only Black figures are rare and typically have negative connotations. However, this particular image envisions them in a highly intellectualised setting and in a seemingly amicable atmosphere.

While chess did not eradicate the dominant social norms when it came to race, it did empower players to challenge them within its own ludic realm.

The representation of chess as an encounter between people of different skin colour was not limited to Europe. The Shahnama, an epic poem narrating the history of the Iranians from creation to the Islamic conquest, recounts the game’s introduction to Iran.

According to the Shahnama, an unnamed Indian king sent an embassy to the Sassanian king with a chessboard accompanied by a challenge: figure out the rules or pay tribute. Fortunately, the king’s advisor, Būzurjmihr, succeeded. A 14th-century copy of the epic places this scene in a late medieval Mongol setting. Here, the paler Būzurjmihr is contrasted by the Indian envoy’s darker skin colour.

It has been argued by scholars that the latter’s dark skin and “baggy clothes” were meant to underscore his defeat. However, I believe some clues suggest otherwise. His “baggy” tunic is sumptuously adorned with gilding, in contrast to the simple blue robe of Būzurjmihr, despite him being the highest-ranking diplomat of the court. His darker skin certainly reflects his foreign origins but hardly makes him a negative character. He is, in fact, a champion of the Indian rajah, who transmits the game of logic and is presented as a guardian of much-coveted Indian knowledge.

The chess pieces themselves

In addition to representations of chess contests, medieval perceptions of race can also be studied via chess through investigating the playing pieces.

Chess spread across Afro-Eurasia from sixth-century India to the rest of the known world. Chess is a game of war, and the figures are meant to represent soldiers. Yet, as the game travelled, the form of the figures kept changing, reflecting the societies that produced them.

For example, a long-haired chess king made in Mansura or Multan (modern-day Pakistan) in the ninth or tenth century reflects ideals of Indian kingship. The famous Lewis Chessmen meanwhile, discovered in Scotland’s Outer Hebrides but probably carved in Norway, are often perceived as the most emblematic representatives of a medieval chess set. Yet, in this light, they are only a relatively late and geographically peripheral testimony of a longstanding tradition.

Medieval chess was not as black and white as the modern game. Some chessboards were white and red, or blue and gold. Nonetheless, the chequered squares, and the figures themselves, were differentiated through contrasting colouring. This allowed people to project ideas of skin colour and racial perceptions onto the game.

A 13th-century poem describes how chess pieces “are the people of this world, who are drawn out of one bag, like a mother’s womb, and are positioned in various places of this world”. Therefore the pieces could become representations of the different peoples of the globe. But the outcome of their encounters on the board was still decided by the rules of logic, not their skin colour. In this way chess embodied a “just world”, in which intellect, instead of religion or race, mattered the most.

Krisztina Ilko has previously received funding from The British Academy.

– ref. How medieval chess created a space in which players – regardless of race – could engage as equals – https://theconversation.com/how-medieval-chess-created-a-space-in-which-players-regardless-of-race-could-engage-as-equals-279132

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Holly Barnett, PhD Candidate in Psychology, Lancaster University

Given the ongoing and often heated debate about banning social media for under-16s, it’s easy to assume that young people are the only group at risk of online harm. Misinformation research often focuses on younger people, and multiple studies do identify younger groups, such as generation Z, as vulnerable to online deception.

But evidence shows that older adults are just as, if not more, likely than younger generations to believe misinformation. Despite the spread of misinformation online, around 15% of adults rarely or never consider if news items are true. Indeed, adults aged 65 and older shared nearly seven times more fake news links during the 2016 US election, in comparison to younger users. Older adults may be more at risk of believing falsehoods due to changes such as memory loss and lower digital skills.

In 2024, nine in ten people in the UK reported seeing misinformation on social media. Yet only 3% of the population had taken a media literacy course. While there is working being done to ensure technology is accessible, users must have the skills and confidence to recognise if they are being deceived.

My new paper reviewed studies which delivered misinformation training to older adults aged 50 and over. My colleagues and I identified which approaches improved misinformation detection, but also noted that some had the opposite effect.

1. Game-based approaches

BadNews is a free online video game developed by researchers at the Cambridge Social Decision-Making Lab. Players take on the role of the scammer to learn the techniques used to deceive people. Playing BadNews improved misinformation detection across different age groups and cultures. The improvement lasted longer when feedback was provided immediately after playing.

Another game called Spot the Troll trained older adults 60-plus to identify “troll” accounts, which are online accounts often used to spread false information anonymously. This game provided what researchers call a cross-protection effect – learning to spot trolls also improved participants’ ability to identify false news.

2. Correcting misinformation

In a study from the Netherlands, users watched a video from trusted doctors and scientists, showing others getting vaccinated and debunking common misconceptions about vaccines. Afterwards, older adults were less likely to believe vaccine myths.

This study made use of corrective information – accurate information that helps people replace false beliefs formed after encountering misinformation. Through a process known as debunking, corrective information explains what was incorrect and provides the accurate facts instead.

Read more:
Why people believe misinformation even when they’re told the facts

Graphics from the World Health Organization have been found to support the perceived credibility and sharing of corrective information across age groups in the UK and Brazil.

Addressing health misinformation among older adults is particularly crucial due to increased risk of serious illness. By stating why misinformation is inaccurate, detailed corrections can provide more long-term benefits than brief retractions, which usually do nothing more than label a claim as false. However, this sustained belief change was less common among those aged 65-plus compared to those aged 50-64. Similarly, the benefits of corrections are reduced if misinformation is encountered again afterwards.

3. Developing literacy skills

Information and media literacy courses teach people the skills needed to judge information effectively. One study found that MediaWise for Seniors, a media literacy course in the US, improved older users’ ability to judge the truthfulness of headlines. Users also showed an increased likelihood of performing research about the headline.

In Spain, engagement with a similar course improved older users’ detection of true information. Although people felt more confident in their decisions, the researchers labelled this as overconfidence – their actual detection of false information did not improve as much. Still, the course did help people to recognise when a headline was politically biased.

What more needs to be done?

Concern about misinformation is high, with older adults particularly worried about threats to the legitimacy of health and medical information, plus UK politics and social issues.

Political misinformation contributes to unfair election outcomes when fake news sways voter opinion. Amid the 2016 US election, fake stories favouring Donald Trump were shared 30 million times on Facebook, with people aged 65-plus shared sharing more fake news during this period. Older adults have also been found to show higher partisan bias. This means that they are more likely to trust content which agrees with their political views.

Because voting is more common among older people, there is a risk of democracy being swayed by fake stories – especially those which feel believable because they align with what users already think, even when they’re inaccurate.

Finally, researchers of media and information literacy must develop a greater understanding of how the ageing process can affect misinformation detection. While some older adults may be more susceptible, we should not assume this applies to all people over a certain age.

Multiple studies we looked at reported high dropout rates, where participants had not completed the full training course or experiment. We should therefore identify why older users do not complete misinformation training which they initially chose to take part in.

People of all ages need to feel confident in identifying when they are being deceived. But, while detecting fake news is valuable, we must not forget the importance of being able to identify true news. True content often spreads at a slower rate and taking part in misinformation interventions can increase scepticism.

In other words, misinformation detection training can lead people to become more cautious of accurate information. Clearly, achieving the right balance is essential – people should feel confident identifying misinformation without being discouraged from engaging with true content.

Holly Barnett receives funding from the Engineering and Physical Sciences Research Council (EPSRC).

– ref. It’s not just gen Z – older adults need help spotting online misinformation too – https://theconversation.com/its-not-just-gen-z-older-adults-need-help-spotting-online-misinformation-too-274148

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adriana Marin, Lecturer in International Relations, Coventry University

Tommy Shelby returns in Netflix’s new Peaky Blinders film, The Immortal Man, a figure defined by control, composure and calculated violence. He navigates risk, trauma and conflict with an almost unnatural endurance. No matter the pressure, he adapts, survives and remains in charge.

The Immortal Man follows Shelby as he navigates a tightening web of political intrigue and criminal threats beyond Birmingham, forced to operate at a higher, more dangerous level while struggling to maintain control. As power shifts and new alliances form, he is pushed into more dangerous territory, balancing strategy, loyalty and survival, while his past continues to shape his decisions.

Irish actor Cillian Murphy delivers a masterful performance, capturing Shelby’s authority while hinting at the strain beneath the surface.

As the film’s title suggests, Shelby reflects a broader cultural archetype: the “immortal man”. He is not literally invincible, but rather resilient – a character who absorbs damage without collapsing, who endures where others fall apart.

This figure appears consistently in crime drama – Vito and Michael Corleone in The Godfather, Jimmy Conway in Goodfellas, Tony Soprano in The Sopranos – and its popularity reveals something important about how we understand crime, masculinity and power.

Criminology has long challenged the idea that criminal figures are inherently irrational or chaotic. The “enterprise model” of organised crime reframes criminal activity as structured, profit-driven and responsive to market conditions.

From this perspective, participants resemble entrepreneurs operating within illicit economies rather than criminals. Tommy Shelby fits this model closely. His actions are calculated, with violence deployed as a means to an end rather than an impulse.

The emphasis falls on strategy, recognising opportunity, managing risk and consolidating power in ways that echo legitimate business practices. This framing shifts crime away from images of chaos and unpredictability, presenting it instead as controlled and methodical. Yet rationality alone is not enough to account for his appeal.

Masculinity, control and contradiction

Cultural criminology, particularly the work of Jeff Ferrell, draws attention to the symbolic and emotional dimensions of crime. It is not only about material gain, it is also about identity, meaning and representation. Shelby is not just an economic figure but a cultural performer. His authority is constructed through style, symbolism and reputation.

Control, in this sense, is not only exercised but communicated: his presence, speech and appearance are tightly managed, projecting authority through restraint as much as action. This stylisation makes organised crime seem structured and, for some audiences, appealing. The “immortal man” is therefore not just a survivor, but a figure who appears to master both his environment and himself.

This performance of control is inseparable from masculinity. Sociologist R.W. Connell’s concept of “hegemonic masculinity” (the dominant form of masculinity in society that shapes expectations of how men should behave) helps explain Shelby’s appeal.

He embodies authority, emotional restraint and the capacity to command. He leads decisively, conceals vulnerability and maintains dominance across different spheres of life. Yet what makes the character compelling is the tension within this model. Shelby’s authority is shaped by trauma – war, loss and psychological strain.

He aligns with the ideals of dominance while simultaneously revealing their cost. The “immortal man” is defined not by being invincible, but by his ability to endure and keep going under pressure.

In this sense, masculinity is not just power, but the ability to maintain control while carrying internal damage. Shelby intensifies this model, presenting a form of dominant masculinity rooted in survival, where dominance is sustained through emotional containment rather than the absence of vulnerability.

This tension reinforces a familiar expectation: that masculinity is proven through resilience without visible collapse. At the same time, it adds complexity, presenting strength and fragility as intertwined rather than oppositional.

Sociologist Robert Merton’s strain theory suggests that when access to legitimate success is limited, individuals adapt by pursuing alternative routes.

Shelby’s trajectory reflects this logic. He does not reject the pursuit of wealth, status or influence, but he reworks the means of achieving them. Organised crime becomes a rational response to constraint, blurring the boundary between legitimate and illegitimate enterprise.

This is what gives the figure such resonance. Shelby appears to overcome structural limits while maintaining control, offering a version of success that feels both transgressive and recognisable. His appeal lies not only in what he achieves, but in how he achieves it: with certainty, authority and self-possession in contexts where those qualities feel increasingly scarce.

The endurance of this figure reflects wider cultural anxieties. In periods of instability, characters who impose order and act decisively become especially attractive. At the same time, as traditional models of masculinity are questioned, the “immortal man” offers a reassertion of clarity: an identity grounded in independence and dominance.

Shelby represents more than a criminal figure. He becomes a cultural response to uncertainty, embodying a form of masculinity and authority that promises control, even as it quietly reveals the strain required to sustain it.

Rethinking the ‘immortal man’

The issue is not that audiences engage with these narratives, but that their underlying assumptions often go unexamined. The “immortal man” ties together masculinity, power and violence in ways that appear natural but are, in fact, constructed. Authority is best demonstrated through domination, that emotional restraint is a marker of strength, and that success justifies the means by which it is achieved.

These associations are reinforced through repetition. Criminological research offers a more complex picture. Organised crime is rarely as stable or controlled as it appears on screen. It is often characterised by volatility, exploitation and harm, frequently directed at the most vulnerable.

What figures like Shelby offer, then, is not a reflection of reality, but a compelling simplification of it, one that continues to resonate because it speaks to enduring questions about power, identity and control in uncertain times.

There is, ultimately, nothing immortal about men like Tommy Shelby. What endures instead is the narrative itself: a story that continues to resonate because it speaks to persistent anxieties about inequality, control and the limits of legitimate success.

Adriana Marin does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Peaky Blinders The Immortal Man: why mythic figures like Tommy Shelby continue to captivate us – https://theconversation.com/peaky-blinders-the-immortal-man-why-mythic-figures-like-tommy-shelby-continue-to-captivate-us-279417