Category: MIL-OSI

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Marcel Lukas, Senior Lecturer in Banking and Finance and Vice-Dean Executive Education, University of St Andrews

Beyond cutting back on meat or making the jump to an electric vehicle, another way consumers can reduce their environmental impact is to switch to a green bank. It’s a lifestyle change that could deliver powerful effects – removing money from the fossil fuels pipeline – for little effort or inconvenience.

Yet it has been claimed that people in the UK are more likely to get divorced than switch banks – despite there being services that make changing your current account easy.

The UK’s seven-day Current Account Switch Service (Cass), in operation since 2013, has completed more than 11.6 million switches, including over a million in the year to March 2025. The service switches your incoming and outgoing payments including salary payments, direct debits and standing orders.

Cass reports that 99.7% of these account switches were completed within seven working days – and nearly 90% of people who used the service were satisfied with it. Yet relative to the whole UK population, the number of people actually switching remains modest. The process works, but behaviour lags.

A set of well-documented psychological tendencies help to explain this gap.

“Prospect theory” shows that people weigh any potential losses more heavily than equivalent gains. This tilts people toward staying with their familiar provider when a change involves any chance of disruption or error.

The “endowment effect” increases the subjective value of someone’s existing bank account, simply because they already own it.

Ever wondered how to spend or invest your money in ways that actually benefit people and planet? Or are you curious about the connection between insurance and the climate crisis?

Green Your Money is a new series from the business and environment teams at The Conversation exploring how to make money really matter. Practical and accessible insights from financial experts in the know.

Many people’s status quo bias turns hesitation into inertia, because departing from a default requires attention and effort. And our usual bias towards the present adds a timing problem: the admin is immediate while the benefits arrive later and accrue gradually.

All these mechanisms interact with how people organise their money. Many maintain informal “mental accounts” for bills, savings and day-to-day spending. A bank move forces a rewiring of standing orders, direct debits, salary instructions and payees. It feels like opening a filing cabinet and relabelling everything.

Fear of missing a mortgage or utility payment is especially salient. As such, guarantees like those around direct debits and standing orders provided by the Cass system only help if people trust they are actually covered.

While financial education improves what people know, studies have found it typically only encourages modest changes in behaviour. A meta-analysis of 201 studies reported that education efforts explained only about 0.1% of changes in money-related behaviour (things like saving, dealing with debt and avoiding fees), with these effects often disappearing over time.

A later meta-analysis with a sample size of more than 160,000 people found that financial education improved knowledge more than it prompted changes in behaviour. This was measured across areas such as budgeting and saving.

These reviews do not test current account switching directly. But they support the narrower point that information alone usually only shifts real-world financial actions a little.

However, small changes to the way choices are presented can move outcomes when used at scale. A comprehensive analysis of 23 million participants found that “nudges” – such as making a process simpler or sending a reminder – increased behaviour changes in areas as varied as signing up to a savings plan or making safety improvements in the home by about 1.4 percentage points, on average. While this may seem small, scale is key.

We can view this finding through a banking lens. Without intervention, perhaps 5% of customers would switch to a better account. A simple nudge might boost this to 6.4%. Across 100,000 customers, that’s 1,400 additional people making a beneficial switch.

How to overcome your inertia

So-called “implementation-intention techniques”, where a person invents conditions to help them achieve a goal, are a practical option. Across 94 tests, it was found that forming an explicit “if–then” plan – for example: “If I get the job then I’ll increase the amount I save” – produced a medium-to-large improvement in people attaining their goals.

In terms of banking, this technique could be used along the following lines: “If it is Sunday at 8pm, I will compare three accounts for 30 minutes. If one is clearly better on fees or green credentials, I will apply for it the same evening. Once approved, I will move two direct debits per night until I’m finished.”

In my experience, there are three steps that can help you overcome inertia when it comes to your finances.

First, convert a general goal into time-boxed tasks on your calendar, using an if–then plan rather than a vague intention.

Second, use frustrations with your existing bank account to motivate you – such as being charged a fee you did not expect, or discovering your bank’s environmental failings. Your motivation to act is elevated at these moments.

Third, to make the task less overwhelming, use a short checklist of payees and subscriptions. Ticking items off in small batches should reduce the cognitive load you feel.

Broader lessons

Clear communication about how much switching services such as Cass will do for an account holder can make them worry less about the risks. This should also help them realise if certain authorisations need to be switched manually.

But the lessons here apply beyond current accounts. Loss aversion, attachment to the familiar, present bias and default effects also shape decisions about savings products, energy tariffs and mobile contracts – choices that all come with environmental consequences.

Systems that assume consumers will tirelessly compare their options will disappoint. Those that make better options prominent, easy and well timed are far more likely to encourage meaningful change, at scale.

Marcel Lukas is the Vice-Dean Executive Education at the University of St Andrews Business School and has previously received funding from the British Academy, UKRI and Interface UK.

– ref. Why most of us are reluctant to switch banks, even though it could cut our environmental impact – https://theconversation.com/why-most-of-us-are-reluctant-to-switch-banks-even-though-it-could-cut-our-environmental-impact-267042

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Justin Stebbing, Professor of Biomedical Sciences, Anglia Ruskin University

Every few months, a new “miracle cure” for cancer trends on social media. From superfoods and supplements to extreme diets, the promises are always bold – and almost always misleading. The latest claim suggests that a 21-day water fast can “starve” cancer cells and trigger the body to heal itself. It sounds simple, even empowering: stop eating and your body will do the rest.

But biology is rarely that simple. Cancer is not a single disease, and metabolism does not switch neatly between “sick” and “healthy.” While fasting can affect how our cells use energy, there is no scientific evidence that it can eradicate tumours. In fact, prolonged fasting can be dangerous, especially for people already weakened by cancer or its treatments.

While fasting can influence metabolism, immunity and some aspects of cell growth, there is no credible evidence that prolonged water fasting can treat or cure cancer.

Fasting, in its many forms – from intermittent fasting to short-term calorie restriction – has been shown in laboratory studies to influence how cells repair themselves and manage energy. 2024 research shows that fasting temporarily suppresses intestinal stem cell activity, followed by a powerful regenerative phase once food is reintroduced. This rebound in stem cell growth is driven by a pathway known as mTOR, which promotes protein synthesis and cell proliferation.

While this regeneration helps tissues recover, it can also create a vulnerable window in which harmful mutations may occur more easily, raising the risk of tumour formation.

Most research on fasting’s effects has focused on intermittent or short fasts lasting between 12 and 72 hours, not on extreme water-only fasts that continue for weeks. A 21-day water fast, as promoted in some wellness circles, carries serious risks. Extended fasting can cause dehydration, electrolyte imbalances, dangerously low blood pressure and muscle loss.

Cancer itself often leads to malnutrition, and fasting can accelerate wasting (cachexia), weaken the immune system and increase susceptibility to infection. Many cancer patients are undergoing chemotherapies that require adequate nutrition to maintain organ function and safely metabolise drugs. Combining these treatments with prolonged fasting can amplify toxicity, delay recovery and worsen fatigue.

There are ongoing clinical studies into short fasting or fasting-mimicking diets before chemotherapy, but these are medically supervised, typically lasting less than 48 hours and carefully monitored for safety.

Fasting continues to intrigue scientists because it activates ancient survival mechanisms. During food scarcity, the body triggers processes such as autophagy, where cells recycle damaged components. This process can reduce inflammation and improve metabolic health in animal studies.

But in cancer, the story is far more complex. Cancer cells are resourceful. They can adapt to fasting by finding alternative fuel sources, sometimes outcompeting healthy cells under nutrient stress. Long periods without nutrition can also weaken immune cells that normally detect and attack tumours.

The 2024 fasting study demonstrates this duality. Fasting may reset metabolism, but refeeding rapidly activates growth pathways such as mTOR. In healthy cells, this helps repair tissues. In cells already carrying DNA damage or early mutations, it can encourage malignant progression. This makes fasting a complex biological stress factor rather than a harmless or therapeutic intervention.

The ‘detox’ myth

Much of fasting’s popular appeal comes from the myth of “detoxification”: the belief that abstaining from food “cleanses” the body. In reality, organs such as the liver, kidneys and lymphatic system already perform this task continuously. Cancer is not caused by accumulated “toxins” that can be flushed out. It develops through genetic changes that cause uncontrolled cell growth. No research has shown that fasting can eliminate cancer cells or shrink tumours in humans.

Controlled studies have observed only short-term metabolic shifts that may influence inflammation or insulin signalling. These effects could help reduce long-term risk factors for chronic disease, but they do not reverse cancer once it has developed.

The promise and limits of metabolic research

There is scientific interest in how metabolism affects cancer. Researchers are exploring whether targeted calorie restriction or ketogenic diets could make tumour cells more sensitive to treatment while protecting healthy ones. These studies are still in early stages and focus on precision, not deprivation. None involve starving the body of all nutrients for weeks.

Sensational claims blur the line between hypothesis and proof, giving vulnerable patients false hope by cherry-picking facts, mentioning fasting’s role in cell repair while omitting the crucial detail that most findings come from animal models, not human trials. For someone undergoing cancer treatment, attempting an unsupervised extreme fast could delay essential care, worsen side effects, or even put their life at risk.

Fasting is a physiological stressor. In small, controlled doses, it can trigger adaptive processes that benefit health. In excess, especially during illness, it can cause harm.

A 21-day water fast is neither a plausible nor a safe cancer treatment. Research into fasting helps us understand how cells respond to nutrition and stress, but that knowledge underscores fasting’s complexity rather than supports it as therapy. While balanced nutrition, hydration, regular physical activity and adequate sleep can all support resilience during cancer therapy, none replace medical treatments designed to target tumour biology. Cancer care requires targeted, evidence-based treatments such as chemotherapy, radiotherapy, surgery and immunotherapy.

Fasting research is helping us understand the deep connections between metabolism and disease, but that is very different from curing cancer with a glass of water and willpower. It is understandable that people want control when facing something as frightening as cancer. The search for alternatives often comes from fear, frustration or a wish to avoid painful treatments. But hope should never rest on misinformation.

Justin Stebbing 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 fasting won’t cleanse your body – or beat cancer – https://theconversation.com/why-fasting-wont-cleanse-your-body-or-beat-cancer-267555

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lucy E. Hyde, Lecturer, Anatomy, University of Bristol

Buried in your body is a tribute to a long-dead Italian anatomist, and he is not the only one. You are walking around with the names of strangers stitched into your bones, brains, and organs. We all are.

Some of these names sound mythical. The Achilles tendon, the band at the back of your ankle, pays homage to a Greek hero felled by an arrow in his weak spot. The Adam’s apple nods to a certain biblical bite of fruit. But most of these names are not myths. They belong to real people, mostly European anatomists from centuries ago, whose legacies live on every time someone opens a medical textbook.

They are called eponyms: anatomical structures named after people rather than described for what they actually are.

Take the fallopian tubes. These small passageways between the ovaries and the uterus were described in 1561 by Gabriele Falloppio, an Italian anatomist with a fascination for tubes who also gave his name to the Fallopian canal in the ear.

Or “Broca’s area”, named for Paul Broca, the 19th-century French physician who linked a region of the left frontal lobe to speech production. If you have ever studied psychology or known someone who has had a stroke, you have probably heard his name.

Then there is the eustachian tube, that small airway you pop open when you yawn on a plane. It is named after Bartolomeo Eustachi, a 16th-century physician to the Pope. These men have all left fingerprints on our anatomy, not in the flesh, but in the language.

Why have we stuck with these names for centuries? Because eponyms are more than medical trivia. They are woven into the culture of anatomy. Generations of students have chanted them in lecture halls and scribbled them into notes. Surgeons drop them mid-operation as if chatting about old friends.

They are short, snappy and familiar. “Broca’s area” takes two seconds to say. Its descriptive alternative, “posterior inferior frontal gyrus,” feels like reciting an incantation. In busy clinical settings, brevity often wins.

Eponyms also come with stories, which make them memorable. Students remember Falloppio because he sounds like a Renaissance lute player. They remember Achilles because they know where to aim the arrow. In a field that can feel like a wall of Latin, a human story becomes a useful hook.

And, of course, there is tradition. Medical language is built on centuries of scholarship. For many, erasing eponyms would feel like tearing down history itself.

But there is a darker side to this linguistic love affair. For all their charm, eponyms often fail at their main purpose. They rarely tell you what a structure is or what it does. “Fallopian tube” gives no clue about its role or location. “Uterine tube” does.

Eponyms also reflect a narrow version of history. Most originated during the European Renaissance, a time when anatomical “discovery” often meant claiming knowledge that already existed elsewhere. The people being celebrated are overwhelmingly white European men. The contributions of women, non-European scholars and Indigenous knowledge systems are almost invisible in this language.

Then there is the truly uncomfortable truth: some eponyms honour people with horrific pasts. “Reiter’s syndrome,” for example, was named after Hans Reiter, a Nazi physician who conducted brutal experiments on prisoners at Buchenwald. Today, the medical community uses the neutral term “reactive arthritis,” a small but meaningful refusal to celebrate someone who caused harm.

Every eponym is a small monument. Some are quaint and historical. Others are monuments we would rather not keep polishing.

Descriptive names, by contrast, simply make sense. They are clear, universal and useful. You do not need to memorise who discovered something, only where it is and what it does.

If you hear “nasal mucosa,” you immediately know it is inside the nose. Ask someone to locate the “Schneiderian membrane,” and you will probably get a blank stare.

Read more:
Medical jargon is often misunderstood by the general public – new study

Descriptive terms are easier to translate, standardise and search. They make anatomy more accessible for learners, clinicians and the public. Most importantly, they do not glorify anyone.

So what should we do with all these old names?

There is a growing movement to phase out eponyms, or at least to use them alongside descriptive ones. The International Federation of Associations of Anatomists (IFAA) encourages descriptive terms in teaching and writing, with eponyms in parentheses.

That does not mean we should burn the history books. It means adding context. We can teach the story of Paul Broca while acknowledging the bias built into naming traditions. We can remember Hans Reiter not by attaching his name to a disease, but as a cautionary tale.

This dual approach allows us to preserve the history without letting it dictate the future. It makes anatomy clearer, fairer, and more honest.

The language of anatomy is not just academic jargon. It is a map of power, memory, and legacy written into our flesh. Every time a doctor says “Eustachian tube,” they echo the 16th century. Every time a student learns “uterine tube,” they reach for clarity and inclusion.

Perhaps the future of anatomy is not about erasing old names. It is about understanding the stories they carry and deciding which ones are worth keeping.

Lucy E. Hyde 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. How anatomical names can carry hidden histories of power and exclusion – https://theconversation.com/how-anatomical-names-can-carry-hidden-histories-of-power-and-exclusion-267880

Source: The Conversation – UK – By John Wyver, Professor of the Arts on Screen, University of Westminster

The BBC’s Written Archives Centre (WAC) is housed in an unassuming bungalow on the outskirts of Reading, 40 miles west of London. It holds one of the greatest document collections of British and global history from the past century.

For half that time, researchers, storytellers and interested members of the public were able to mine its extensive resources for monographs, dissertations and broadcasts relating to the BBC. Recent changes to the conditions of access, however, mean that independent and exploratory research at the WAC is no longer possible.

The centre houses scripts, personnel files, production notes, meeting minutes, correspondence and other materials related to BBC radio and TV broadcasts since 1922. It reveals how politicians, pop stars, monarchs and artists have engaged with one of the most powerful media organisations of the past century. It also captures the debates, decisions, and everyday lives behind the BBC’s operations.

Because of the BBC’s importance, the WAC’s archives reflect countless aspects of our social, political and cultural history. The changing roles of women since the 1920s have been traced through the riches of the archive, as have transformations in ideas of class and social relations, in understandings of LGBT+ identities, and in celebrations and conflicts of race and immigration.

Even so, researchers know there is far, far more to be uncovered. The WAC is one of Britain’s most significant resources for revealing the history of the past century, second only to The National Archives housed at Kew.

But earlier this year, the WAC quietly introduced changes to who can use it and how. Personal enquiries from the public can no longer be answered, and the reading room is now only open on Wednesdays and Thursdays. Most significant for researchers was the decision to end the vetting and opening of files on request.

Many of the archive users, including myself, feel we were not involved in any meaningful consultation before these changes were made. In 2024, there had been a single online meeting at which a small number of users were asked for their suggestions for improvements. At that meeting there was no mention of the proposed changes and no sense of seeking feedback. No other consultation seems to have been undertaken.

Some two-thirds of the hundreds of thousands of WAC files have not yet been opened for use by researchers. Until early this year, the exceptional archivists there would, in response to an enquiry, identify relevant files. They would then read and, if necessary, minimally redact (removing certain personal details, for example) files that had not previously been opened.

In the work for my forthcoming history of television between the wars, Magic Rays of Light: The Early Years of Television in Britain, I estimate that roughly half of the 300-plus files I consulted were opened especially for me.

The ending of on-request vetting has been made by BBC managers for two reasons, which were shared in online meetings that I participated in. One is the straitened finances of the corporation, which have necessitated severe cutbacks to many services. Suggestions for how to help mitigate this, which were made in meetings by users, so far appear to have been ignored by those responsible for the change.

The other reason given for the ending of on-request vetting is an internal shift towards a more focused, curatorial approach to the WAC. Under the new arrangements, batches of files will be made available according to internal priorities decided, like the WAC’s new timetable, solely by the BBC.

Those objecting to this change were told that the new priorities will reflect more closely the BBC’s programming and business concerns. This aims to facilitate, for example, a smoother marking of “content moments” such as anniversaries.

More than 500 academics and independent researchers, including myself, have signed an open letter expressing “profound concern” about the changes. Recognising that the review of the BBC’s charter is fast approaching, the letter calls on the BBC “to publish a code of practice affirming continuing WAC access and the continued availability of files on request”.

Without on-request opening of files, many WAC users feel they are essentially barred from independent research and can no longer plan with any confidence new books or other projects. More generally, they point out that the BBC’s new conditions flout the generally accepted principle for responsible archives of clear separation between the provision of access and the practices of curation.

The campaigners also highlight that the WAC is a public resource paid for over decades by public funds through the licence fee. Closing down the channel for independent access, they suggest, infringes in a significant way one of the five public purposes of the BBC defined by the BBC’s Charter: “To support learning for people of all ages.”

The campaigners laid out their “public purposes” argument in a different, detailed letter sent directly to the BBC board’s chair, Samir Shah, in mid-August, and in individual letters to each of the members of the board, which has the mandate to deliver the BBC’s mission and public purposes. No response has been forthcoming.

The BBC has promised that “some” files will be newly vetted and opened up, decided solely by them, but they have not said how many or what they will be, nor have they outlined a timetable for this. The community of users who journey out to the reading room of the WAC bungalow remain frustrated in their concern to undertake meaningful independent research.

When contacted by The Conversation for comment on its changes to the WAC, the BBC responded:

We are taking on a new approach to make a wider selection of BBC history accessible and searchable, with an ambition to open up more of the written archive from 30% to 50% over the next five years.

Given the level of resource available, we are moving to a series of structured content releases rather than individual requests for specific content, which will open up the written archive further and deliver greater value for all licence fee payers.

The service will continue to offer access and reading room visits for researchers and support freedom of information and subject access requests.

Moving to a series of structured content releases rather than individual requests for specific content … will open up the archive and deliver greater value for licence fee payers and support learning for people of all ages.

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.

John Wyver has in the past received funding from the AHRC for a research project that has made use of the resources of the Written Archives Centre.

– ref. Changes to the BBC’s Written Archives Centre threaten open research – and might infringe on the broadcaster’s charter – https://theconversation.com/changes-to-the-bbcs-written-archives-centre-threaten-open-research-and-might-infringe-on-the-broadcasters-charter-267929

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Caroline Bond, Professor of Education, Manchester University

Pupils with special educational needs and disabilities are twice as likely as their peers to be persistently absent from school.

Persistent absence means that they miss up to 10% of school sessions (sessions are a morning or afternoon at school). For those with an Education, Health and Care Plan (EHCP) – a legal document that lays out support they are entitled to – the picture is even worse. They are up to seven times more likely to be severely absent, meaning that they are missing more than half of school sessions. Absence is higher still for pupils in special schools compared with those in mainstream education.

Suspensions tell a similar story. Pupils with special educational needs are almost four times more likely to be suspended than those without.

Engagement among pupils with special educational needs also drops sharply in secondary school. Only 45% say they like being at school. And it’s not just pupils who feel the system isn’t working: three-quarters of teachers in a recent survey said schools are not inclusive enough for all pupils.

The current approach to inclusion often relies on case-by-case fixes, but this isn’t sustainable. Since 2016, the number of EHCPs has risen by over 80%, yet the systems for assessing and meeting children’s needs have not kept pace. Many children’s needs go unidentified or unmet, leaving families feeling unsupported and forced to fight for help in an under-resourced system.

Schools, too, say they struggle to access the external professionals needed for assessments. In one survey, school staff ranked meeting the needs of pupils with special educational needs as their second-biggest challenge, just after budget pressures.

Lifelong effects

When needs go unmet, the consequences can be long-lasting. Persistent absence and suspension both increase the risk of young people leaving school without qualifications and not going into work or training. These issues can spill into adulthood, with poorer job prospects and a higher risk of involvement with the criminal justice system. Addressing special educational needs effectively isn’t just about education – it’s about improving life chances.

The solutions start with making mainstream education genuinely inclusive and properly funded. Schools need cultures that promote belonging and partnership with families to rebuild trust and confidence. National standards for inclusion would help, as would more training for school staff and leaders, alongside better access to specialist support professionals.

We also need to rethink what counts as success in education. A broader mix of qualifications and career paths would help young people play to their strengths and prepare for the future. Schools can also boost engagement by giving pupils more say in decisions that affect them, offering greater choice in the curriculum, and ensuring access to enrichment activities – sport, arts, volunteering and social opportunities – which are proven to improve attendance and wellbeing.

For pupils with special educational needs, timely, targeted support can make all the difference. Skilled mentors, smaller classes, adapted timetables and evidence-based support programmes can help pupils boost school attendance and academic progress. They can also help children manage their emotions and enable them to feel more connected to school. For those struggling with transitions – such as moving schools or preparing for work – proactive planning, supported internships and job coaches can ease the process and build confidence.

Even with good inclusive practice, some pupils will still struggle. In those cases, high-quality alternative provision can offer a temporary respite and a route back to mainstream education.

Unless we rethink what education is for – and how we support pupils to engage with it – thousands of young people will be denied their potential. One of us (Caroline Bond) contributed to the development of an approach that mainstream schools can use to help children feel safe in school. It was created with parents, autistic young people and professionals to offer a practical way for schools to understand and support pupils who find school attendance especially difficult.

With school attendance under national scrutiny and special educational needs funding under pressure, this is a crucial moment to ask how we can build a system that genuinely includes every young person – not just in name, but in practice.

Luke Munford receives funding from UKRI and the National Institute for Health and Care Research (NIHR).

Caroline Bond 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. Children with special educational needs are more likely to miss school – it’s sign of a system under strain – https://theconversation.com/children-with-special-educational-needs-are-more-likely-to-miss-school-its-sign-of-a-system-under-strain-266942