Category: English

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Martina Angela Caretta, Associate Professor in Human Geography, Lund University

Since 2024 I have been researching the social dynamics surrounding the establishment of one of the most prominent European battery manufacturers in Skellefteå, Sweden. I have interviewed almost 40 people, from civil servants, former Northvolt employees and their family members, to workers at non-profit organisations supporting marginalised groups.

Between 2022 and 2024 the job market in Skellefteå was booming and the unemployment rate was at a record low. Yet, according to my interviewees, people with disabilities and those experiencing neurodivergence were not being employed by Northvolt. This reality is in stark contrast with the EU´s declaration that the green transition should be just and inclusive.

Last March, Northvolt declared bankruptcy. This came as a huge blow to the EU, as it meant that one of the few potential rivals to China’s EV battery production had gone under.

This flagship gigafactory in the north of Sweden, had employed 4,000 people. Its establishment had required the municipality to step up housing construction, infrastructural development and improve its schooling and healthcare offerings.

But the factory didn’t build the Swedish-made batteries it had promised to its customers and shareholders. Although demand for EVs decreased, supply chains were disrupted because of changing geopolitical conditions and the company faced major financial difficulties.

Before Northvolt started to build the factory in 2018, Skellefteå was a rather sleepy town with a falling population and an economy that had slumped since its pre-1990s economic prosperity when mining was the main income for most locals. The establishment of a gigafactory was welcomed by politicians and the community. The sole focus was on improving the local economy through job creation.

My research shows that Northvolt jobs were taken up by locals who left jobs in school and healthcare because of the higher pay. This left those other sectors short of skilled labour. Northvolt also relied heavily on employing immigrants who moved from all over the world to Skellefteå to work in EV batteries production.

Despite this shortage of skilled labour, neurodivergent people living in Skellefteå – those experiencing attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and dyslexia or on the autism spectrum disorder – and people with disabilities did not get jobs.

Northvolt did hire neurodivergent people for a period, according to one interviewee from a charity that supports neurodivergent people in accessing the job market:

“To be neurodivergent was seen as something positive. They would get a salary and become independent. Northvolt did tests and neurodivergent candidates would perform very well. But then they stopped. They probably wanted to recruit and hire people faster. Basically, everyone else applying, even without any relevant experience, was getting jobs”.

Another employee of a non-profit organisation told me: “At a time when everyone has a job, with low unemployment rate, what does it say on me that I am still without a job?! How do I motivate my existence? How can it be that I am left behind when everyone is getting included in this positive societal change?”

Many people I interviewed told me they felt a lack of self-worth. Being disabled was already challenging, but feeling rejected by a flourishing job market was another major blow.

Disregarded skills, missed opportunities

People with ADHD, dyslexia and on the autism spectrum disorder can be creative, innovative and often experience periods of deep focus and attention to detail that are highly beneficial when working on intricate tasks, such as building a lithium battery or checking its quality.

Companies that have hired neurodivergent people tended to experience a boost in productivity and an improvement in workplace culture. Inclusive hiring practices would promote sustainable economic growth through decent work for all and reduce the risk of poverty and unemployment for people with disabilities, compared to workers without disabilities.

Jobs created through the green transition include roles such as technicians and consultants – employment opportunities that can be a fit for people with disabilities without making major accommodations. Companies claiming to be sustainable need to double down on their commitments to achieving inclusivity.

Lyten, a Californian start-up whose business is focused on lithium-sulphur batteries, acquired all Northvolt’s assets in Sweden in August 2025. While it is still too early to know how many people will be employed by Lyten in Skellefteå, this transition of ownership presents a opportunity to realise the goals of the European and Swedish green transition. My research shows that fair, just and inclusive employment conditions are not yet a reality.

In practice, fair and inclusive employment conditions could involve offering more part-time employment, so that more people with disabilities can access formal employment. By embracing an open attitude, adapted hiring practices and flexible working conditions, Lyten can be a catalyst for a more inclusive green transition in Sweden.

The Conversation approached Lyten for comment but received no response.

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Martina Angela Caretta receives funding from the Swedish Research Council Formas grant AC2023/0033.

– ref. Why the green transition must be just and inclusive for neurodivergent people – https://theconversation.com/why-the-green-transition-must-be-just-and-inclusive-for-neurodivergent-people-263299

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Elizabeth Rosser, Associate Professor of Aging, Rheumatology and Regenerative Medicine, UCL

Actress, singer and makeup mogul Selena Gomez has been candid about her experience of living with lupus. Since 2015, Gomez has documented on social media and in interviews the effect the condition has had on her health.

In 2017, the actress shared that she’d undergone a kidney transplant due to lupus-related organ damage. Then, earlier this month, Gomez said on a podcast that she’s developed arthritis related to her lupus symptoms.

Selena Gomez’s story has raised important awareness of the wide-ranging health impacts associated with lupus. But even still, many people may not know exactly what lupus is – nor how it can have such widespread affects on the body.

What is lupus?

Lupus is an autoimmune condition. This means the immune cells malfunction and attack parts of the body instead of potential pathogens – causing inflammation and damage.

There are two common forms of lupus. Discoid lupus affects the skin, causing painful rashes. Systemic lupus erythematosus (SLE) is more severe and can affect multiple organs. It’s estimated around 3.4 million people worldwide are living with SLE.

In SLE, the immune cells target our DNA, as well as the proteins that help to package our DNA within a cell’s nucleus (information hub). This improper immune response allows the disease to affect nearly every major organ system in the body. This includes the skin (causing a butterfly-shaped rash over the nose and cheeks), kidneys, brain, heart, lungs and the joints.

Up to 95% of people living with systemic lupus will experience arthritis or joint pain. Fatigue and pain can also have a significant affect quality of life for people living with lupus.

Other lesser-known complications from SLE include an increased risk of developing cardiovascular disease and cancers – most commonly lymphoma.

Who is most at risk?

What causes lupus and why the immune system malfunctions remains unknown. However, we do know that women are much more likely to develop systemic lupus. It’s estimated that 90% of those diagnosed with lupus are women. It’s also more common in women of reproductive age.

According to research my colleagues and I have recently published, these gender differences may partly be due to the influence of different sex hormones on immune cell function.

People who are Hispanic, Asian, Black or Indigenous are also more likely to develop SLE than white people. Black people have a five- to nine-fold greater risk of SLE compared to white people.

It has also been shown that Black people living with SLE are more likely to die early compared to white people living with SLE. This is probably due to the complex interplay between socioeconomic factors (such as access to healthcare) and differences in how the immune system functions.

How is lupus treated?

Lupus remains an incurable disease, but can be managed through treatment.

Lupus is characterised by periods where the disease flares up and periods where it’s in remission (where there are few symptoms). The aim with treatment is to keep the disease in remission. However, this can be a complex journey – and may take time to find the right drug that works for a patient.

During flare-ups, symptoms are typically managed with steroids. These quickly dampen immune system function to prevent damage to the body. But long-term steroid use can have multiple side-effects – including changes to bone health and eye health (leading to cataracts and glaucoma). As such, doctors try to limit steroid usage as much as possible.

Alongside steroids, disease-modifying anti-rheumatic drugs are used to stop flare-ups and keep lupus-triggered inflammation at bay. These drugs modulate the immune system and suppress it.

Biologics, which are a type of anti-rheumatic drug, selectively target the parts of the immune system that cause lupus inflammation. But while these drugs are effective at dampening inflammation, many patients report that they do not always help with fatigue and pain.

Crucially, certain lupus treatments (and especially one called cyclophosphamide) can also cause fertility problems, such as menstrual irregularities and a reduced number of eggs in the ovaries. They do this by affecting the health of the ovarian follicles (structures which house eggs in the ovary).

Although new therapies introduced over the last 20 years have drastically reduced mortality associated with systemic lupus, current research estimates that it can still take up to five years to be correctly diagnosed. This can lead to more organ damage – and eventually worse disease outcomes.

It’s clear we still desperately need more research into the causes of the condition so we can improve treatments and quality of life for people living with the condition.

What’s next for lupus treatments?

Despite these challenges, there are some exciting innovations happening in the field of lupus research.

This includes repurposing a form of cancer therapy that uses a patient’s own immune cells (T cells) and engineers them to destroy cancer cells. These cells, called CAR-T cells, are now being engineered to recognise malfunctioning parts of the immune system to help some people living with lupus achieve long-term disease remission.

Researchers are also looking to identify predictive lupus “biomarkers” (signs of the disease that can be detected in a blood sample). This will help identify how different people will respond to certain lupus treatments, which would be an important first step in being able to personalise treatments to each patient.

Our understanding of the biological processes causing lupus continues to grow each year. With continued awareness of the disease and the many ways it can affect daily life, we’re getting closer to identifying treatment targets that may someday help cure the condition.

Elizabeth Rosser receives funding from the Medical Research Foundation, the Lister Institute for Preventive Medicine and the Kennedy Trust for Rheumatology Research.

– ref. What is lupus, the condition Selena Gomez is diagnosed with? – https://theconversation.com/what-is-lupus-the-condition-selena-gomez-is-diagnosed-with-266273

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Nicholas Scrivens, Programme Leader – MA Musical Theatre, University of Surrey

Tilly Norwood is the hottest actor in Hollywood right now.

Her career has been covered by Variety, the BBC and Forbes, to name just a few publications. All of this is publicity that a young actor at the start of their career can only dream of. But Tilly doesn’t dream. Nor is she actually acting in the strictest sense of the word, because Tilly is an AI actor, created by Particle6 Studios, a UK-based AI-focused film production company.

There have, of course, been AI actors before. Carrie Fisher was famously resurrected for The Rise of Skywalker in 2019. James Cameron used background “actors” to populate Titanic in 1997, but until now no AI creation has achieved the media cut-through that Tilly has. This is partly due to her creator – Eline Van Der Velden – and her team. They have launched Tilly into the marketplace as a persona: something designed to act and emote.

As Van Der Velden told entertainment news site Screen Daily: “[Tilly is] an act of imagination and craftsmanship, not unlike drawing a character, writing a role or shaping a performance.” There is technological craft in her creation, certainly. But there is also a grey area, where that creation draws on the work, voices, physiognomy and artistry of others – blended into code, shaped for modern media and packaged in a soft-focus comedy video just meta enough to deflect criticism.

My work with actors has always been deeply rewarding. At the Guilford School of Acting, where I teach, the approach is grounded in the belief that acting is born from a combination of craft, empathy, collaboration and above all a genuine exploration of what it means to be human. The story of “Tilly’s” creation has stirred a powerful response among the students I have been working with: a mix of horror, fear and, perhaps most chillingly of all, resignation. Resignation that this may indeed be the direction in which the creative industries are heading.

The outcry from established actors was immediate and heartfelt. On hearing that agents were already contacting the production company in hopes of representing it, A-lister Emily Blunt told interviewers: “Good lord, we’re screwed. That is really, really scary. Come on, agencies, don’t do that. Please stop. Please stop taking away our human connection.”

The human connection is the point. The Russian theatre practitioner, Konstantin Stanislavski, whose work consistently urged actors to seek inner truth and humanity, summed it up well. Writing in his book An Actor Prepares (1936), he explained: “To break that rule of using your own feelings is the equivalent of killing the person you are portraying, because you deprive him of a palpitating, living, human soul, which is the real source of life for a part.”

In a recent podcast interview with Jay Shetty, actor Emma Watson reflected on how the “movie star” version of herself had become something of an avatar in her mind. She spoke candidly about her journey from the Harry Potter films, the hypersexualisation she endured in the media and the scrutiny now placed on her every word and stance.

For producers, directors, and studios, a compliant, commodified figure like Norwood is an attractive prospect: an actor who doesn’t need an intimacy coordinator, won’t go off-message on social media or perhaps more disturbingly, might. As impressive as the technological achievement is, the choice of an elfin-thin, 20-something female “actor” is also highly questionable.

In a world where power dynamics and abuses are finally being called out through the #MeToo movement, it’s perhaps no surprise that the coded, painted and constructed Tilly Norwood has arrived. The “actor” is programmable and usable. It looks human but is, at its core, deficient. And will always remain so. Because what makes an actor is that ineffable thing: humanity.

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Nicholas Scrivens 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. ‘AI actor’ Tilly Norwood is dividing Hollywood – but real acting requires humanity – https://theconversation.com/ai-actor-tilly-norwood-is-dividing-hollywood-but-real-acting-requires-humanity-266525

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Johannes Petry, CSGR Research Fellow, University of Warwick

Does all music sound the same these days? Many listeners – and artists – think so. There’s a concern that today’s hits are increasingly generic, predictable and indistinguishable. And it might all come down to money.

Streaming platforms like Spotify have transformed music production, distribution and consumption. In place of nurturing individual expression, there’s long been a belief that streaming platforms have shifted the focus to financial goals.

Our new research examined these perceptions and found that over a 20-year period there was a move towards standardisation, repetition and conformity in popular tracks.

In the 1940s, philosophers like Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer argued that, much like Henry Ford’s production lines, music had become a mass-produced commodity designed for passive consumption. By the early 2000s, physical record sales still drove revenues, major labels controlled most of the market, and promotional power was concentrated in radio stations, music television and charts.

Despite this commodified structure, however, music – especially in genres like hip-hop – remained stylistically diverse and regionally distinct.

Yet, over the last decade, a transformation has occurred. The rise of streaming platforms and the growing role of finance have restructured the culture industry. This is not only changing how music is distributed, but fundamentally altering how it is valued and produced.

In our study, we found that today’s industry is no longer primarily about selling commodities like albums, tickets or CDs. Rather, it is about generating financial assets in the form of rising numbers of plays and subscriptions that promise to create future income streams.

This shift is driven by two major forces that we call “platformisation” and “finacialisation”. Platformisation refers to the dominance of streaming services that shape how music is produced and consumed. Financialisation is about prioritising future income streams over immediate profitability.

In this new landscape, value is created not by sales but by ownership over future income. This is turning songs, playlists and platforms into financial assets. It has transformed music into an investment product and playlists into highly curated tools for extracting value.

Spotify, for instance, rarely turns a profit. Instead, its business model revolves around an expectation about future increases in revenue. This lies in increasing plays from both paid and unpaid subscriptions, either by increasing advertising revenue or monthly subscription fees.

Investors value Spotify not for its current earnings but for its capacity to grow. To do this, it must maximise plays and subscriptions and “minimise friction” (that is, making the listening experience smooth and uninterrupted). This is where the playlist comes in.

Read more:
Spotify just made a record profit. What can the platform do now to maintain momentum?

Radio once played a central role in shaping musical tastes. But today, playlists have taken over. With nearly 16 million followers, the highly influential hip-hop playlist RapCaviar does not just reflect listener tastes – it shapes them.

Getting a song on important playlists can generate hundreds of thousands of dollars in revenue, and failing to be listed can mean obscurity. This pressure has changed how music is made.

To be playlisted, songs must conform to a set of unwritten rules: short durations, instant hooks, predictable beats and familiar sonic textures. Songs that deviate too much from the standard risk being skipped and therefore not generating royalties. The result is playlists that are optimised for bingeability and selected for seamless consumption.

To test whether these pressures are leading to the homogenisation of music, we conducted a comparative content analysis of hip-hop music from two eras.

For the pre-streaming period, we examined Apple Music’s retrospective chart playlist of the biggest hip-hop and R&B hits from 2002. For the streaming era, we analysed Spotify’s RapCaviar playlist from 2022.

Both contained a sample of 50 songs that we analysed across five categories. We investigated form and structure, sampling, rhythm, vocal style and lyrics – and the findings were striking.

• Song length: the average track duration fell from four minutes and 19 seconds (2002) to three minutes and three seconds (2022), reflecting the pressure to engage listeners quickly

• Tempo and key: songs in 2022 clustered much more around similar tempos and harmonic keys, reducing the variety of sound

• Samples: where early-2000s tracks drew inspiration from diverse genres and local cultures, most 2022 hits favoured similar moods – generic piano and guitar loops – often sourced from pre-packaged production platforms like LANDR

• Rhythm: while earlier hip-hip songs often used distinct rhythms, 90% of 2022 songs used nearly identical 808s (a synthetic drum machine) and rhythms

• Vocals: auto-tune effects were nearly ubiquitous in 2022, giving voices a uniform, digital texture

• Lyrics: using natural language processing (an AI tool), we found that lyrics in 2022 were 60% more similar to each other than in 2002 – even though they used a larger collection of words.

Taken together, these trends suggest that the sonic and stylistic diversity once praised in hip-hop has been replaced by algorithmic compatibility. While in 2002 a diverse group of songs including Busta Rhymes’ Make It Clap, Eminem’s Lose Yourself or Missy Elliott’s Work It were at the top of hip-hop charts, today’s songs on RapCaviar are much more homogeneous.

Once an art form defined by regionality, resistance and individual expression, hip-hop is increasingly shaped by the incentives of platform capitalism.

Why this matters

This speaks to a broader transformation in how cultural products are made, valued and circulated. Music and other art forms are increasingly produced within platforms designed for scalability. As such, often the asset logic replaces artistic freedom, and predictability trumps originality.

Streaming platforms might claim to democratise the music industry, but in reality they often reinforce the dominance of major labels and pre-existing trends.

Even artists who have benefited from these systems are beginning to speak out about their constraints. This is even more important with the rise of generative AI and the possibility of a future of individualised, on-demand music generation.

If music is to reclaim its critical, creative and expressive power, it needs to be disentangled from the financial logic that now governs it. The first step is understanding how this logic works – and whose interests it serves.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. From art form to asset: our study found popular songs are becoming more generic – https://theconversation.com/from-art-form-to-asset-our-study-found-popular-songs-are-becoming-more-generic-266097

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Maria Ahmad, PhD Candidate, Cognitive Neuroscience, Psychology and Language Sciences, UCL

One of the biggest navigation challenges is knowing where you are in the open ocean without tools or devices. This remarkable skill is exemplified by the ancient techniques once used by expert navigators of the Marshall Islands, a chain of
low-lying coral islands and atolls situated between Hawaii and the Philippines.

Together with a cognitive neuroscientist, philosopher, Marshallese anthropologist and two Indigenous sailors, I was part of a sailing expedition that aimed to explore how Marshallese sailors use their environment to find their way at sea. Aboard Stravaig, a 42ft (12m) trimaran (a boat with three hulls), the winds and waves carried us 60 miles from Majuro atoll to Aur atoll.

In the six years I lived in the Marshall Islands, I had never travelled past Eneko, a small islet within the lagoon of Majuro. I was always drawn to the reef where the lagoon meets the ocean, watching the white surf appear as the waves broke against the barrier that protected the atoll.

It was the knowledge of those waves that the ri meto (the person of the sea, a title given to a navigator by the chief), would dedicate their lives to mastering. By sensing subtle changes in ocean swells, the ri meto could detect the direction and distance to islands that lay thousands of miles beyond the horizon.

With this ancient knowledge, the ri meto mastered one of the most extraordinary skills known to humans: navigating the Pacific. But the devastating history of the Marshall Islands has extinguished the practice and currently, there is no officially appointed ri meto.

Alson Kelen is the apprentice of the last-known ri meto. His parents were displaced from the northern Bikini atoll during the US lead nuclear programme that detonated 67 atomic and thermonuclear bombs in the Marshall Islands during the 1940s and 50s.

Beyond the catastrophic destruction and suffering, it disrupted the inter-generational transfer of traditional knowledge, including navigation. As part of revival efforts by professor of anthropology Joseph Genz, Kelen captained the jitdaam kapeel, a traditional Marshallese canoe, from Majuro to Aur in 2015, relying solely on the traditional navigational skills he had learned as an apprentice.

Inspired by this, I was curious about the role that neuroscience played in understanding wayfinding at sea. Research in spatial navigation has revealed how the brain’s neural and cognitive processes help us find our way. Most of this research focuses on land-based navigation, either in lab settings or controlled environments using video games or virtual reality headsets. But the cognitive demands at sea are considerably greater with constantly changing factors, such as swells, winds, clouds and stars.

Neuroscience of navigation

As the director of Waan Aelon in Majel, a local canoe building and sailing school, Kelen chose two highly skilled traditional sailors to join us on our research expedition.

As we approached the channel, the steady waves of the lagoon gave way to the heavier ocean swells hitting the hull. The crew tightened the ropes and the sails were hoisted. All of a sudden, I felt the dominant eastern swell lift the boat. We had left the calm of the lagoon and were bound for Aur Atoll.

For the next two days, Stravaig was our lab on the ocean. For more than 40 hours we were collecting cognitive and physiological data from nine crew members, along with constant environmental data from our ever-changing surroundings.

We asked everyone to keep track of their estimated location throughout the voyage. Only two crew members (the captain and first mate) had access to GPS at intervals; others relied solely on the environment and memory. At hourly intervals, each crew member would mark their estimated position on a map, along with their predictions of how much time and distance remained till the first signs of land and eventually landfall itself. They also noted any environmental stimuli, such as the waves, winds or the position of the sun they were using.

The crew also rated four key emotions throughout the journey: happiness, tiredness, worry and seasickness. Each crew member wore an Empatica smartwatch, which recorded changes in their heart rate.

An accelerometer was mounted onto the top deck to record the movement of the boat as the wave patterns changed. A separate mounted 360° GoPro camera captured changes in the sails, clouds, sun, moon and movement of crew on deck.

Just before the last piece of land dipped under the horizon, each crew member pointed to five atolls: Jabwot, Ebeye, Erikub, Aur Tabal, Arno and Majuro. A covered compass was used to record the bearings. This was repeated across the journey to test orientation skills without reference to land.

By the end of this voyage, we had a rich collection of data that mixes subjective experiences with objective measurements of the environment. Every estimation plotted on a map, every emotion, every changing heart rate was recorded in conjunction with changes in wave patterns, the wind, the sky and the GPS beneath it all. This new data forms the foundation for a model that could begin to explain the cognitive process of wayfinding at sea, whilst also offering a glimpse into this ancient human ability, one that the ri meto mastered long ago.

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This research project is lead by Prof. Hugo Spiers Professor of Cognitive Neuroscience, University College London. The research team includes: Alson Kelen Director of Waan Aelon in Majel, Prof. Joseph Genz Anthropologist at the University of Hawai’i at Hilo, Prof. John Huth Donner Professor of Science Harvard University Physics Department, Prof. Gad Marshall Professor of Neurology, Harvard Medical School, Prof. Shahar Arzy Professor of Neurology, Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Dr. Pablo Fernandez Velasco, British Academy postdoctoral fellow, University of Stirling, Jerolynn Neikeke Myazoe Graduate Student, University of Hawai’i at Hilo, Clansey Takia Indigenous Sailing and Canoe building instructor WAM, Binton Daniel Indigenous Sailing and Canoe building instructor WAM, Chewy C. Lin Documentary film-maker and Dishad Hussain Director at Imotion Films.

This project has been supported by the Royal Institute of Navigation, University College London and the Centre for the Sciences of Place and Memory at the University of Stirling (funded by the Leverhulme Trust), Royal Veterinary College, Glitchers, Neuroscience & Design, Empatica, Imotion and Brunton.

– ref. My voyage to explore how Pacific island sailors find their way at sea without technology – https://theconversation.com/my-voyage-to-explore-how-pacific-island-sailors-find-their-way-at-sea-without-technology-261032