Category: MIL-OSI

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Yuen Chan, Senior Lecturer, School of Arts and Social Sciences, Department of Journalism, City St George’s, University of London

The sentencing of Hong Kong media mogul Jimmy Lai to 20 years in prison on February 8 on charges of sedition and collusion with foreign forces prompted international outrage.

Lai founded the now shuttered pro-democracy Apple Daily newspaper – and supporters of press freedom around the world pointed to the chilling effect the sentence would have on the media, in a city once vaunted as a beacon for press freedom in Asia.

The reaction was more muted in Hong Kong, where dissent has been stifled since Beijing imposed the draconian National Security Law in 2020, following months of protests in 2019. A local security law enacted in 2024 further expanded the scope of the city’s national security legislation.

Privately, some local journalists say Lai’s conviction will have limited impact on their work. They have already felt heavily constrained by the security laws and what they’re calling the “new normal” – an overarching national security apparatus and culture. Although saddened, they were not altogether surprised at the severity of Lai’s sentence.

One journalist told me they were more shaken by the sentences of up to ten years that were meted out to six senior Apple Daily editors and writers for “just doing their jobs”.

Since the national security law, Hong Kong journalists’ jobs have involved a great deal of dancing around shifting boundaries as to what can and can’t be reported. Inevitably, this has meant exercising greater self-censorship.

In an editorial on the sentencing, the Ming Pao newspaper, which has long positioned itself as a neutral paper of record, suggested the Lai ruling has brought these boundaries into sharper focus, concluding: “Collusion with foreign forces cannot readily be dressed up as journalism.”

The newspaper said that as Hong Kong now operates within the framework of the national security legislation: “The media must operate within this legal framework while continuing to report facts and hold power to account, a balance essential to preserving the city’s pluralism and openness.”

But it hoped “the Lai case will prove a watershed, allowing space for press freedom to widen step by step, so the media can fulfil its responsibilities more effectively”.

However, local journalists I spoke to described this position as naïve and wishful thinking, and said the red lines are no clearer now than before. Selina Cheng, chair of the Hong Kong Journalists Association (HKJA), believes the constraints on free expression in Hong Kong go far beyond a legal framework.

“If we call it a legal framework, it’s giving the system some kind of legitimacy,” Cheng told me. “In reality, the way it operates is there is a lot of destruction of due process, creating an atmosphere of fear and anxiety in those working in industries of expression.”

Apart from being arrested and jailed, Cheng says journalists and their family members have been doxed, with their personal details posted online, and harassed. Both individual journalists and news outlets have been targeted by unusual tax audits.

Tai Po tragedy

Cheng was one of several journalists I spoke to who pointed to the November 2025 fire which killed 168 people in Tai Po’s Wang Fuk Court Estate as a potent symbol of the current state of press freedom and freedom of speech in Hong Kong.

In the immediate aftermath, local and international journalists interviewed victims and reported extensively on suspected corruption and lack of oversight of building works on the site. But residents and other potential interviewees soon became reluctant to speak to reporters following the arrests of people who had posted comments online.

A student who started a petition for an independent inquiry was arrested – and then recently expelled from his university just weeks from graduation, even though he hasn’t been charged.

For one veteran journalist, who asked to remain anonymous for fear of bringing trouble to their organisation, what led to the Tai Po tragedy highlights a “media failure”. The news outlets which had most doggedly pursued stories about building maintenance, bid-rigging and corruption were the investigative site Factwire and Apple Daily, so “when these outlets disappeared, a lot of the reports also petered out”.

“In the past, you’d have lots of commentary in the media after an incident like this,” they explained. “There’d be legal scholars, experts, people from all different sectors. But now, the universities don’t allow people to comment and articles are spiked or censored, so it’s hard to raise and maintain public concern.”

Snitch culture

The journalist spoke of a system that extends beyond the legal framework of the national security law that restricts speech, through the control of public opinion and a “snitch culture” that weaponises complaints.

A Hong Kong police national security hotline was launched in November 2020; by June 2025, the city’s security chief said it had received more than 920,000 reports. Public bodies and funding organisations also regularly receive complaints about platforming of funding groups or individuals perceived to be pro-democracy or supportive of the 2019 protests.

Last October, a public venue cancelled a play written by Candace Chong, a leading playwright who was been vocal about censorship. The body that manages the Xiqu Centre, part of the West Kowloon Cultural District, said it had received complaints that the show – which depicts a love triangle between three men – defamed Hong Kong.

There are signs the “media failure” is already affecting governance. In January, the government introduced a controversial seat belt law requiring all bus passengers to buckle up while seated, only to shelve it five days later. The bill had received little scrutiny in Hong Kong’s now opposition-free legislature.

“It’s really unthinkable for a government to push out a bill, get it rubber-stamped by the legislature, and then withdraw it because they suddenly realise people are unhappy or the legislative details haven’t been thought through,” the HKJA’s Cheng told me. “It shows how the government misjudged public sentiment. This can be attributed to how the media isn’t free any more.”

Yuen Chan 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. Twenty-year sentence for Hong Kong media mogul Jimmy Lai is a further blow for journalists feeling the heat of Beijing’s crackdown on press freedom – https://theconversation.com/twenty-year-sentence-for-hong-kong-media-mogul-jimmy-lai-is-a-further-blow-for-journalists-feeling-the-heat-of-beijings-crackdown-on-press-freedom-276992

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Alex Prior, Lecturer in Politics with International Relations, London South Bank University

Hannah Spencer’s parliamentary story – as the new Green MP for Gorton and Denton – has just begun.

Nevertheless, the life story that she presented in her victory speech was that of a plumber, not a politician. She identified herself – in present tense – by that trade; she had not grown up wanting to be a politician. She also celebrated qualifying as a plasterer during the “chaos” and “pressure” of the election campaign. She described campaigning jovially as “all this”, as if it were just a challenge in the broader adventure, not the adventure itself.

Despite, or perhaps because of, accusations that the Greens used “sectarian politics” to secure victory, the speech was one of solidarity, of aligning herself with the struggles and achievements of “the community that I am from”. Spencer said that she had lived there in one of the hardest times of her life, and presented the strength of the community “at holding things together” as an inspiration.

She aligned herself and her personal characteristics with those of the constituency, stressing that “I am no different to every single person here in this constituency. I work hard. That is what we do.”

Alongside all the talk of “we”, of common interests and lack of difference, Spencer singled out several audiences for her story. One such audience? Her now-plumberless “customers”, to whom she duly apologised: “I’m sorry, but I think I might have to cancel the work that you had booked in, because I’m heading to parliament”.

Spencer also addressed those who voted for her, and those who didn’t. She spoke of “my Muslim friends and neighbours”, who “are just like me: human”. She discussed the “left-behind” (“I see you, and I will fight for you”), and people doing jobs like hers: “We will finally get a seat at the table”. And she addressed “our white working class communities, the background that I have become so glad to be from”.

A personal and political journey

My research focuses on political narratives and storytelling as a means of communication: the stories that parliaments contain and project, the stories we tell about the places we’re in and the stories that politicians use to communicate themselves to voters. Spencer’s speech is an attempt to portray a compelling story to her new constituency.

She spoke about how moving away from the constituency to nearby Trafford made the qualities of Gorton and Denton’s community “even clearer”. Only realising your love for a place and the people in it when you’ve moved away is a familiar narrative device. As Joni Mitchell once sang, “You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone”.

In Spencer’s speech, this tactic carried a sharper political edge. This is a constituency that people move away from to get the “nice life” that Spencer described: “good schools, a thriving high street and clean air”.

This part of the story carried a rebuke to an audience that Spencer was addressing, but not by name: the Labour Party, for whom this was a traditionally safe seat. Spencer observed that “working hard used to get you something”.

I would argue that “you”, in this context, is a reference to traditional Labour voters. The implication here is that it is voting Labour that “used to get you something”.

Being a politician now isn’t an aspect of Spencer’s story that she’s keen to claim. She may now sit at Westminster, but she appears to frame this as an extension of who she already is — a worker, a neighbour, a constituent — in a new arena.

In doing so, she attempts to recast political representation itself as continuity of identity. The challenge, of course, will be whether she can sustain that claim. It is easier to say “I am no different” on a victory stage following a byelection win than from the House of Commons. The durability of her narrative – and perhaps her political appeal – will rest on whether she can remain recognisably “from” the constituency while operating within the institution of parliament.

Alex Prior 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. ‘Working hard used to get you something’: what Hannah Spencer’s speech tells us about her, and the state of British politics – https://theconversation.com/working-hard-used-to-get-you-something-what-hannah-spencers-speech-tells-us-about-her-and-the-state-of-british-politics-277121

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Annayah Prosser, Assistant Professor in Marketing, Business and Society, University of Bath

Nintendo’s Legend of Zelda video game series celebrated its 40th anniversary in February 2026. Millions of players across the world have grown up alongside the 21-title series, from the release of the original game on the Famicom gaming system in 1986, to the most recent game, Echoes of Wisdom, published for the Switch in 2024.

The Zelda games were inspired by series creator Shigeru Miyamoto’s childhood in the Japanese countryside. They frequently involve complex environmental exploration and problem solving.

Over time, the series has moved from pixelated forests into high resolution, awe-inspiring landscapes. In that time, Zelda has become an intergenerational success, released in new forms for new generations with each Nintendo console.

Many Zelda games serve as flagships for these new consoles, tying the game experience into new technological capacities – showcasing the motion control of the Wii, the dual screens of the DS, and the joystick first introduced on the the N64. Just as the console technology has evolved, so has the Zelda series.

The series is one of Nintendo’s biggest commercial successes, with an estimated 150 million copies of the games sold worldwide. The most popular game within the series, Breath of the Wild (released on the Switch in 2018), has sold more than 34 million copies to date.

Read more:
The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom review – a masterclass in rewarding curiosity

Beyond the game

As well as fun past times, video games can be important vehicles for social connection and personal development. The Zelda series grapples with age-old struggles of good versus evil and destruction versus creation.

I’m the editor of the Psychgeist of Pop Culture: The Legend of Zelda – an open-access book which explores the social and psychological impact of the series across a variety of domains. In the book, researchers like myself show how engaging with virtual stories and problems can help us to better understand our own day-to-day lives. For example, recent research from social scientist George Farmer shows that playing video games can be a helpful form of stress relief during times of crisis.

The moral dilemmas presented in the Zelda games also help to train players for real-world social action. Experimental psychologist Kathryn Francis argues in her chapter that the games provide players with an immersive virtual space for moral reflection and development.

In my own chapter, I analysed the environmental narratives of the games Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom to assess their potential impact on players. I argued that experiencing the environmental devastation wrought by villains in the games, and having the power to save the world in this setting might also equip players with the tools and motivation to address the climate crisis in real life.

The Zelda series can also help players to understand and interrogate their identities, and the roles we play within our own lives. The games allow players to explore what it means to be a hero, villain, or a princess with increasing freedom of expression and action.

They can choose to save the world as quickly as possible (by doing a “speedrun”) or they can take their time to get to know the community and environment. This freedom of play allows for different experiences which appeal to different types of players, making the series particularly versatile. In the games players get to experiment with different quests and narrative paths, and learn more about themselves, their values and preferences in the process.

Forty years on, the Zelda franchise shouldn’t just be seen as a purely economic success. Rather, it should be understood as a cultural powerhouse which has had a very real impact on the lives of millions around the world.

Given the generational staying power of these games, many Zelda fans across the world will be eagerly awaiting the next step for the series. What might the 40th anniversary celebrations bring? Will a new title be revealed? What will the first Switch 2 Zelda game be? Will the virtual world translate well to the upcoming live-action film?

Regardless of the answers to these questions, the series likely will likely to have a significant impact on its players around the world for decades to come.

Looking for something good? Cut through the noise with a carefully curated selection of the latest releases, live events and exhibitions, straight to your inbox every fortnight, on Fridays. Sign up here.

Annayah Prosser 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. Why the Legend of Zelda games still resonate with players after 40 years – https://theconversation.com/why-the-legend-of-zelda-games-still-resonate-with-players-after-40-years-276456

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Travis LaCroix, Assistant Professor of Philosophy, Durham University

For four decades, a controversial idea has shaped how autism is understood by researchers, healthcare professionals and the public: the claim that autistic people are “mind blind”. The phrase suggests an inability to grasp what others think or feel. It is simple, memorable – and wrong.

The claim rests on a concept called “theory of mind”. In everyday terms, theory of mind is the ability to recognise that other people’s thoughts, beliefs and emotions may differ from your own. This idea explains why someone understands that a joke can fall flat, that a promise can be broken, or that a friend can be mistaken without lying. It is often presented as the key to how people make sense of one another.

The idea entered psychology in the late 1970s, when researchers began asking how children learn to reason about other minds. Simple stories were designed to test this ability, often involving a character who holds a false belief. If a child could predict that the character would act on that belief, they were taken to have a theory of mind. These tasks quickly became a standard tool in developmental research.

In 1985, one such test was used in a study of autistic children. In the “Sally-Anne” task, a doll (Sally) hides a marble, leaves the room, and returns after another doll (Anne) has moved it. Asked where Sally will look, many autistic children in that study gave the “wrong” answer. This finding was interpreted as evidence that autistic children lacked theory of mind.

The Sally-Anne test

From this experiment, a vast research programme followed. New tasks multiplied: reading emotions from photos of eyes, interpreting short stories, judging intentions from animated shapes.

Across the late 1980s and 1990s, scientific papers and popular media represented autism as defined by a core failure to understand minds. The theory stuck, appearing in academic articles, textbooks, court rulings and popular science writing.

The problem is that the evidence never supported the claim. Even in the original study, one in five autistic children passed the task. Later research found huge variation. Some studies showed most autistic participants passing theory-of-mind tests; others found little or no difference between autistic and non-autistic groups. A theory meant to describe a key deficit kept running into exceptions.

More troubling is the tests themselves. Many rely heavily on language. Performance is often better predicted by vocabulary level than whether someone is autistic.

Different theory-of-mind tasks also fail to line up with one another, suggesting they are not measuring a single underlying ability at all. If an ability cannot be measured consistently, claims about its absence become doubtful.

At this point, a straightforward scientific response would have been to reconsider the theory. Instead, it was repeatedly patched.

When autistic people passed a task, researchers argued that the task was too simple. New, more complex tasks were introduced, which produced the same mixed results. When findings contradicted the core idea, the definition of “theory of mind” quietly expanded to include eye contact, joint attention, or social motivation.

When science stops testing

This pattern matters because of what it says about how science works. Drawing on the philosophy of science, my recent analysis argues that theory-of-mind research in autism has become “degenerating”. Rather than generating new, risky predictions, the theory survives by shifting definitions and goalposts to avoid being disproved. When no possible result counts against a theory, it stops being scientific. In a subsequent response to commentators, I explore why the theory-of-mind paradigm has persisted despite its deep empirical and conceptual difficulties.

Questioning this idea did not come from a single paper or field. Psychologists, linguists, and philosophers all raised concerns. So did autistic people, whose everyday experiences often flatly contradicted the idea that they lacked insights into others.

Studies began to show that non-autistic people are just as poor at interpreting autistic expressions as the reverse. Social misunderstanding, it turns out, goes both ways.

That insight helped fuel alternative approaches. One approach frames communication breakdowns as mutual mismatches between different styles of thinking and communicating, rather than deficits located in autistic people.

Another focuses on differences in attention and interest, offering an explanation of perception, motivation and learning. These approaches generate new, testable questions and align more closely with people’s actual experiences.

Today, the field is at a crossroads. The idea that autistic people are mind blind lacks a secure foundation. Its empirical support has weakened, and its assumptions are increasingly questioned. What remains is its influence. When educators or healthcare professionals assume a lack of empathy, they are less likely to trust autistic people’s own accounts or involve them in decisions that affect their lives.

Abandoning this myth does not weaken autism science. It strengthens it. Social understanding is not absent in autism; it is shaped differently, expressed in different contexts, and often overlooked when the wrong tools are used. Autistic people are not mind blind. They think and understand differently, and the evidence has pointed that way for some time. It’s time science reflected that.

Travis LaCroix received funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council (Canada).

– ref. No, autistic people are not ‘mind blind’ – here’s why – https://theconversation.com/no-autistic-people-are-not-mind-blind-heres-why-272848

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Jane Wright, Commissioning Editor, Arts & Culture, The Conversation

When I was growing up there were three channels on the telly, which seems quaint now. You watched what was on, like it or lump it. But I have only good memories of children’s TV in the 1970s. Hiding behind a cushion as we watched Dr Who, singing along to Sesame Street, lots of excellent dramas, and a surprising array of weird trippy stop-motion animation that featured stoned rabbits and talking TVs.

But my favourite was a wonderful art show aimed primarily at deaf children called Vision On. (For anyone who’d like a walk down memory lane, listen to the groovy theme tune below and transport yourself back to your 1970s living room.)

A lovely man called Tony Hart shared simple art techniques, and later got his own spin-off show called Take Hart. It was here in 1977 that I first encountered a charming little Plasticine character called Morph who persisted in interrupting Tony has he tried to make art, generally making a mess and causing chaos. But always in the most endearing way.

It was groundbreaking stuff in those days, watching a ball of plasticine unfurl into this funny little figure with big eyes and a bigger heart. Who would have guessed Morph was the beginning of Aardman, one of the most successful stop-motion animation studios in the world? One that would go on to create beloved characters like Wallace & Gromit and even win Oscars?

That success is surely down to a very British sensibility that celebrates quirk and eccentricity, chewy regional accents, DIY and a heroic sweetness that remains untainted by cynicism. I still marvel at the genius of the long-suffering Gromit’s scowl, conveyed only by two indented thumbprints for eyebrows.

Aardman’s work is now rightly being celebrated in an exhibition at the Young V&A in London. We sent along animation expert Christopher Holliday to give us his take as the studio celebrates almost half a century of hi-octane slapstick, unlikely heroes and comical villains.

Two national treasures

It’s a great week for celebrating quintessential Britishness in film, art and fashion. In Edinburgh The Biba Story has just begun at the wonderful Dovecot tapestry studio. The show is a warm, inclusive and affectionate look at the impact of Barbara Hulanicki’s groundbreaking Biba fashion and lifestyle label that brought a splash of excitement to drab postwar Britain in the mid-1960s. Best of all are the vivid memories of women now in their eighties describing the thrill of high fashion at low prices in their teens.

At the Tate Modern in London, the irrepressible Tracey Emin is back with a restrospective called, appropriately, Tracey Emin: A Second Life after she rose like a phoenix from the ashes of her grim encounter with cancer and the life-changing surgery that followed. I adore Emin (even though I don’t always like her work) because she makes art utterly on her own terms. Complicated, contradictory, uncompromising and fearless, many people find that altogether too much in one woman. But Emin mines her life and experience in ways that make her vulnerable which I find brave, honest and admirable.

Films heading for the Oscars

Wagner Moura and Rose Byrne are each nominated for best actor/actress gongs at this year’s Oscars, and both, according to our reviewers, would be worthy winners.

Set in 1977 during Brazil’s two-decade dictatorship, The Secret Agent is a gripping thriller that features an outstanding performance from Moura. The Brazilian actor plays Armando, an academic forced into hiding after clashing with big business interests aligned with the regime who want to get their hands on his research. Kleber Mendonça Filho’s film makes clear that authoritarianism attacks society not only through violence and repression of civilians, but through the silencing of knowledge and learning. This timely and important film reminds us why academic freedom must be protected.

Rose Byrne gives a relentless performance as Linda, an exhausted resentful mother quickly unravelling in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. Her husband who works away is unconcerned that she is looking after their seriously ill daughter solo. Her unfulfilling but demanding work as a therapist piles on more pressure and her own therapist is deeply unsympathetic. Unsupported and drowning in despair, she is unable to find respite. This dark and unsettling film, says our reviewer Laura O’Flanagan, “is an example of how cinema has become less interested in saccharine, idealised depictions of mothers and more concerned with their inner lives, however messy”.

– ref. Wallace & Gromit, Biba style and the irrepressible Tracey Emin: what to visit and see this week – https://theconversation.com/wallace-and-gromit-biba-style-and-the-irrepressible-tracey-emin-what-to-visit-and-see-this-week-274175

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Ryan Cook, Research Scientist, Bioscience, Quadram Institute

The gut bacterium Bacteroides fragilis has long presented researchers with a paradox. It has been associated with colorectal cancer, yet it also lives quite happily in most healthy people. A new study from a Danish research team offers a possible clue. When they looked beyond the bacterium itself and into its genome, they found a previously unknown virus embedded within it – one that was significantly more common in cancer patients.

Colorectal cancer is the third most common cancer worldwide and is responsible for the second highest number of cancer-related deaths. Up to 80% of colorectal cancer cases are attributed to environmental factors, with one of the most significant being the gut microbiome – the collection of bacteria, fungi and viruses that live in the human gut.

This means that colorectal cancer could – in theory – be partly preventable. But the precise link between the microbiome and colorectal cancer remains poorly understood. It is much easier to associate two things than it is to show a mechanism.

Most studies of the gut microbiome examine which species of bacteria are present and how abundant they are. But species are not homogeneous. Think of how all domestic dogs belong to the same species (Canis familiaris) yet show enormous within-species diversity – a chihuahua is not the same as a great dane. The same is true for bacteria, even if it is harder to visualise.

Just looking at which species are present may not give us the resolution we need to understand what is going on. Perhaps the answer lies not in which bacteria are in the gut, but in the finer genetic differences between strains of the same species.

Bacteroides fragilis is generally considered a harmless member of the gut microbiome and is found in most healthy people. Despite this, it has repeatedly been found to be more abundant in people with colorectal cancer. So could there be specific genetic features that set some strains of B fragilis apart from others, and could these features be linked to colorectal cancer?

Even bacteria get infections

All cellular life can be infected by viruses. Bacteria are no exception. The specific viruses that infect bacteria are called bacteriophages – from the Greek phagos, meaning to eat or devour. They selectively infect bacteria and, importantly, do not infect human cells.

But not all of these viruses kill the bacteria they infect. Some integrate their own genome within the bacterium’s genome, becoming what is known as a prophage – a hitchhiker within the bacterial cell.

Many prophages carry genes that can alter the characteristics of their bacterial host. Diseases such as cholera, botulism and diphtheria are all the result of toxins carried by prophages within otherwise (mostly) harmless bacteria. The conversion of harmless bacteria to harmful ones by prophages is well documented.

To determine whether specific genetic signatures linked B fragilis to colorectal cancer, a Danish team sequenced the genomes of B fragilis from people with and without a colorectal cancer diagnosis.

First, they looked at whether the cancer-associated bacteria came from a distinct evolutionary lineage. They did not. But not all genetic features of bacteria are passed from mother to daughter. Some are acquired sideways, through a process called horizontal gene transfer – such as infection by a prophage.

When the researchers compared the genomes more closely, they found that bacteria from cancer patients carried two previously unknown prophages that were largely absent in bacteria from people without cancer.

These prophages did not carry any obvious genes that would link the bacteria to colorectal cancer – in the way that cholera toxin genes are readily identifiable – but most prophage-carried genes are very poorly understood and we know little about what they do.

A broader test

This initial finding was based on 48 bacteria collected from patients, so the team wanted to test whether the pattern held more broadly. They screened data from faecal samples taken from 877 people across Europe, the US and Asia – 434 with colorectal cancer and 443 without.

Patients with colorectal cancer were more than twice as likely to have detectable levels of the prophages. It is important to stress that this is an association, not proof that these prophages cause or contribute to colorectal cancer. No biological mechanism by which they might do so has been proposed.

It is also possible that the gut environment in cancer patients simply suits these particular strains of B fragilis – meaning the disease could be creating conditions in which the bacteria thrive, rather than the bacteria helping to cause the disease. An alternative explanation is that the gut environment itself predisposes people both to harbour these prophage-containing strains and to develop colorectal cancer.

The study had limitations worth noting. The bacteria originally examined came from patients with bloodstream infections rather than bowel cancer itself, while the broader validation used stool samples – a different source entirely. And some of the “healthy” comparison group had not been formally confirmed to be cancer free.

Despite these limitations, the finding raises an interesting possibility for cancer screening. The most common non-invasive screening method for colorectal cancer is the “faecal immunochemical test”, which checks stool samples for traces of blood. A test that also screened for these viral traces could, in principle, be performed on the same samples.

A preliminary analysis by the researchers found that a panel based on fragments of the prophage genomes detected around 40% of colorectal cancer cases. This is a very early result and would need considerable further work, but it points to the possibility of using viral signatures alongside existing screening methods.

The broader implication of this work is a shift in how we think about the gut microbiome and its relationship to disease. It may not be enough to ask which bacteria are present. We may also need to look at what is inside those bacteria – and what those hidden passengers might be doing.

Ryan Cook 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 virus hiding inside bacteria may help explain colorectal cancer – https://theconversation.com/a-virus-hiding-inside-bacteria-may-help-explain-colorectal-cancer-276695

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tilly Clough, Lecturer in Law, Queen’s University Belfast

Private schools in England are facing new financial realities. Following the UK general election in July 2024, the new government introduced VAT on school fees and removed charitable business rates relief for independent schools. At the same time, staffing costs have continued to rise. Employer national insurance contributions have increased, and the national minimum wage has risen.

For some schools – particularly smaller institutions with limited endowments or declining enrolments – this has raised questions about their sustainability.

Although the full impact of these funding changes remains to be seen, they have intensified concerns about sustainability within parts of the independent sector and raised broader questions about reform.

One viable yet underexplored option is the conversion of private schools to the state sector.

Although still relatively rare, a small number of independent schools have taken this route over the past two decades. In a new report, commissioned by thinktank the Private Education Policy Forum, my colleague Tom Richmond and I have carried out the first comprehensive analysis of what happens when independent schools become state schools in England.

Between 2007 and 2017, 27 independent schools converted into state-funded academies or free schools. Twenty-four are still operating today. While the legal route from independent to state provision technically still exists, it has largely fallen out of use, with no conversions taking place since 2017. Independent to state conversion is therefore often overlooked in debates about the future of private education.

Conversion is often viewed as a last resort taken only by schools in serious financial trouble. However, while financial pressures were relevant to many of the schools that converted between 2007 and 2017, they were not the whole story. Schools have also framed conversion as a way to return to their founding missions, which were often explicitly about inclusion and serving local communities rather than educating a fee-paying intake.

The transition itself was not straightforward. Schools reported significant challenges in adapting to the expectations of the state sector. These included the loss of academic selection, the requirement to deliver the national curriculum, and regular inspections by Ofsted, England’s school inspectorate. Many also highlighted the absence of clear guidance from government on key aspects of the conversion process.

In practical terms, this meant that schools which had previously operated with considerable autonomy had to adjust to a far more regulated environment. In some cases, early Ofsted inspections highlighted weaknesses in data use, governance and oversight as schools adjusted to the demands of state accountability.

However, these difficulties were not permanent. Over time, outcomes improved markedly. All but one of the schools that converted and remained open are now rated “good” or “outstanding” by Ofsted.

Former independent primary schools perform at broadly similar levels than other schools in their local authorities. Former independent secondary schools generally achieve stronger attainment and progress outcomes than nearby state schools, though performance varies. Initial adjustment challenges, in other words, did not prevent long-term success.

The consequences – and the future

One of the most significant changes following conversion is in pupil intake.

Removing academic selection and fees transformed who these schools serve. Since conversion, the proportion of pupils with special educational needs has more than doubled. The share eligible for free school meals has risen sharply.

Research has shown that while these schools do not perfectly mirror the national state school population, the gap between them and their local communities has narrowed dramatically.

In many cases, they are far more representative of their surrounding areas than they were as independent institutions. Conversion does not simply change how a school is funded. It can reshape who benefits from its facilities and educational offer.

A common concern is that families will withdraw their children once fees are removed. In practice, this rarely appears to have happened at scale.

Consultation evidence and enrolment patterns show that large majorities of parents supported the move, particularly because it eliminated fees and provided financial certainty. Where schools were required to demonstrate parental demand, applications frequently exceeded available places. Widespread collapse in enrolment – a frequently voiced fear – did not materialise.

Conversion to the state sector is not a solution for every school. Local context matters. The availability of places, building condition and leadership capacity all shape whether conversion is viable. But, the experience of the past two decades suggests that, where carefully managed, conversion can preserve provision, widen access and deliver strong outcomes.

As debates about school funding and the future of private education continue, independent to state conversion is likely to resurface.

If the route is to become viable again, greater clarity is necessary. A clear and permanent pathway – assessed case by case and aligned with local need – would reduce uncertainty. Drawing on the more flexible elements of earlier academy reforms and providing practical support during transition could make the process more workable.

This report was commissioned by the Private Education Policy Forum.

– ref. Could joining the state sector be an option for private schools? – https://theconversation.com/could-joining-the-state-sector-be-an-option-for-private-schools-275132

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Andrew Kloeden, PhD Candidate in Management, University of Exeter

For many workers, the benefits of professional relationships and the networks they create are clear. Bringing together people and social spheres that are otherwise unconnected is linked to higher salaries and more rapid promotion. So it’s no surprise that “networking” is a serious business for so many professionals.

In network theory, the process of linking unconnected people and groups – either within the workplace or outside it – is known as “brokerage”. When you’re a broker, your networks are “open”, with lots of links to unconnected people. All these connections give brokers access to potentially useful information – after all, people who don’t know each other are likely to know different things.

And continued networking, where more new relationships are generated over time, is important to maintain the benefits. Otherwise, networks can grow stale. Being close to the “centre” of the network (having more network ties) brings additional benefits in terms of access to knowledge, information and resources.

But as in many other aspects of life, gender is a fundamental force in terms of professional relationships and the structure of professional networks. It may come as little surprise that women face disadvantages compared to men – both in the positions they hold within networks and the characteristics of their contacts.

For example, women’s networks tend to contain fewer men. Men still hold more positions of power than women in organisations, which leaves women with fewer senior-level connections. Women also tend to find themselves closer to the edge than the centre of organisational networks. Separately, they are less likely to be brokers.

Women’s networks also tend to be “stickier” – where old ties are less likely to be replaced with new ones. These new ties can help to keep the access to information fresh. What’s more, women tend to receive lower returns from the positions they occupy in their networks. For example, even when women are brokers they tend not to enjoy the benefits that can lead to rapid promotion in the way that men might.

The root of the problem

There are many reasons for these disadvantages. First, women usually carry a greater burden of unpaid domestic caring work than men in heterosexual couples (the so-called “second shift”). This can eat up the time that women could otherwise use investing in professional networks. It’s even more acute for mothers or the (mostly) women who care for adult relatives.

Second, the stereotypes of “assertive” men and “communal” women have an effect on organisational networks. Women who occupy strong network positions may not conform to this stereotype of co-operation and communality, which might be frowned upon. For the same reason, men are often seen as more legitimate or useful networking partners.

This also explains why women tend to feel “stereotype threat” (where people fear living up to negative stereotypes) when they are brokers. They may be sensitive to being seen negatively for violating this stereotype.

Similarly, homophily (the tendency for people to form relationships with those they see as similar to themselves) can harm women’s network position and the returns they get, especially in organisations with more men than women. In these situations, women can miss out on senior-level connections (who are more likely to be men). Or they may just end up with smaller networks.

While all women face barriers to network success, there are strategies that can help them to overcome these. Successful women tend to embrace network churn by keeping a core group of contacts but otherwise strategically changing their professional networks. This can help to keep contacts fresh.

And the most successful women have been shown to resist the temptation to focus purely on social support from their contacts. Instead (or in addition), they seek more strategic support – things like introductions and information.

Of course, these strategies all involve women doing extra work to navigate environments that were not built for them. So it is important for employers to take steps to mitigate these problems. This can also help organisations retain staff, and it can help to tackle other workplace problems related to gender biases.

It doesn’t have to be difficult. Employers can structure teams or committees to increase opportunities for interaction between women and senior men. They can also run surveys to map the social networks in their organisations to identify exclusion and disadvantage. Lastly, they can educate senior staff and executives about the issues.

Ultimately, everyone should understand the importance of networking to an employee’s prospects and how they can help to share out the benefits equally.

Andrew Kloeden 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. Networking can boost your earnings and get you promoted – but it’s harder for women to reap the benefits – https://theconversation.com/networking-can-boost-your-earnings-and-get-you-promoted-but-its-harder-for-women-to-reap-the-benefits-276315