Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Adam Ali, Assistant Professor, School of Kinesiology, Western University

On Feb. 12, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) banned Ukrainian skeleton athlete Vladyslav Heraskevych from competition for wearing a helmet that featured images of fellow Ukrainian athletes who had been killed in Russia’s invasion of his home nation.

According to the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, close to 15,000 Ukrainian civilians have been killed and 40,000 have been injured since Russia invaded Ukraine in February 2022.

Over the past four years, more than 450 Ukrainian athletes — including those adorned on Heraskevych’s helmet — have been killed, with many more injured or left with long-term disabilities.

The IOC’s decision has once again placed the Olympic movement at the centre of a longstanding debate over neutrality, political expression and human rights.

Neutrality and expression

The IOC stated that Heraskevych violated the athlete expression guidelines, saying:

“It is a fundamental principle that sport at the Olympic Games is neutral and must be separate from political, religious and any other type of interference. The focus at the Olympic Games must remain on athletes’ performances, sport and the harmony that the Games seek to advance.”

The IOC’s current rules on athlete expression stem from Rule 50 of the Olympic Charter, which doesn’t permit any kind of “demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda” in Olympic areas.

The IOC’s decision has already been decried as unlawful and discriminatory by legal and human rights experts, who argue that it is inconsistent with the IOC’s application of its own policies in other instances.

For example, Italian snowboarder Roland Fischnaller displayed a Russian flag on his helmet, even though Russia’s national symbols were officially banned at the Games.

After Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, the IOC initially barred Russian athletes from competing under their national flag but later permitted some to participate as neutral athletes. This has drawn criticism, particularly in cases where Russian athletes have been linked to activity supporting the war in Ukraine.

While some might justifiably point to contradictions in the application of Olympic rules on athlete expression, as well within the policies themselves, the IOC’s decision illuminates a longer-standing concern.

As many scholars, activists and others have argued for decades, the IOC, with its current structure, is ill-equipped to provide global leadership in promoting peace and human rights through sport.

The limits of the Olympic Truce

This contradiction can be traced as far back as the Olympic Truce, first instituted in the 9th century BC in ancient Greece. In its contemporary form, the truce is intended to protect “as far as possible, the interests of the athletes and sport in general, and to harness the power of sport to promote peace, dialogue and reconciliation.”

In practice, however, peacemaking has been more of a rhetorical than actualized endeavour within the Olympic movement. The IOC frequently emphasizes sport’s perceived ability to help athletes and fans from different parts of the world overcome prejudice and discrimination through the Olympic Games.

Yet this key part of the Olympic mission is complicated by the IOC’s wish to maintain its image as an “essentially apolitical international organization, as political scientist Liam Stockdale has noted.

Maintaining a politically neutral stance while claiming to promote peace in global conflicts — such as the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine — is both contradictory and a purposeful form of naivete that allows the IOC to “sportswash” its way to further fill its financial coffers.

Although the IOC has often remained silent — and at times restricted athletes’ voices — on matters of social justice and human rights, its sanctions on Russia demonstrate that it is willing to take explicit positions when it deems necessary.

This stands in stark contrast to its banning of Heraskevych for highlighting the costs of Russia’s military adventure — Ukrainian lives.

Double standards at play

The debate over neutrality has also extended beyond Ukraine. The IOC has faced intense criticism over its continued silence towards Israel’s military campaign in Palestine following the Oct. 7, 2023 attacks by Hamas.

Israel’s actions have been described as constituting genocide by human rights organizations Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch, an independent United Nations commission and academic experts.

Hundreds of Palestinian athletes have been killed in Israeli attacks, according to the Palestine Olympic Committee and the Palestinian Football Association.

Committees, sport clubs, scholars and other advocates have called for Israel to be banned from the 2024 Paris Games and the current Winter Games in Italy.

To date, however, the IOC has not imposed restrictions on Israeli athletes or officials, maintaining its position that the Games must remain politically neutral. This reveals the IOC’s double standards in determining whose human rights and livelihoods are worth speaking up for, and whose they consider disposable.

Such actions mean it’s that much more imperative for athletes like Heraskevych to continue using one of global sport’s largest spectacles to shed light on atrocities taking place in Ukraine, Gaza and elsewhere, while athletic feats are celebrated on the ice, slopes and half-pipes in Italy.

Adam Ali 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. The IOC’s ban of a Ukrainian athlete over his helmet reveals troubling double standards – https://theconversation.com/the-iocs-ban-of-a-ukrainian-athlete-over-his-helmet-reveals-troubling-double-standards-275896

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Gwendolyn Blue, Professor, University of Calgary

The Canadian government’s recent approval of the first gene-edited animal to enter the food system has reignited debates over whether foods produced using genetic engineering techniques should be labelled.

Gene-edited animals, including faster-growing fish, heat-tolerant cows and disease-resistant pigs, have already been approved in the United States, Japan and several countries in South America. These decisions, including Canada’s approval, were made with limited public awareness and input.

Advocacy groups such as the Canadian Biotechnology Action Network, political parties including the Bloc Québécois and organic pork producers are calling for mandatory labelling of gene-edited meat in Canada.

Public demand

Public opinion research indicates that many Canadians view labelling gene-edited foods as essential. Polling commissioned by the Canadian Health Food Association suggests many Canadians want greater transparency about the use of gene editing for food production.

Studies in the United States also suggest that consumer acceptance increases when the benefits of gene editing are clearly communicated.

Similarly, a survey commissioned by the company that developed Canada’s first approved gene-edited pig found that many Canadians would consider purchasing gene-edited pork if health and environmental benefits were delivered.

Why label gene-edited meat?

Food labelling serves multiple purposes: it provides information about a product’s ingredients and the production methods involved. Labels also play a democratic role by promoting transparency and accountability. This in turn allows consumers to make choices that reflect health considerations as well as their ethical, political and environmental values.

Debates over the labelling of gene-edited meat often hinge on tensions between ethical principles such as protection and autonomy. On the one hand, governments are tasked with protecting the food supply and ensuring food safety. On the other hand, individual consumers have the right to know how food is produced and to make choices accordingly.

Proponents of labelling argue that consumers have a fundamental right to know what’s in their food, how it was produced and what potential risks are involved.

With gene-edited meat, public concerns include health and safety risks, as well as environmental consequences, animal welfare, corporate control of the food system via patents and licensing and threats to food sovereignty.

For example, gene-edited animals could potentially be harmed by unintended consequences, including off-target side effects. It is imperative to ensure traceability in commercial settings with clear mechanisms to report on animal health and welfare.

By enhancing consumer choice, labelling can also foster market competition.

Opponents of labelling argue that gene-edited foods are scientifically proven to be safe and that labelling could mislead consumers into assuming there is a risk where none exists. They argue that labels can create fear and confusion, potentially undermining the adoption of breeding techniques that could enhance health, reduce environmental impacts and improve food security.

Labelling also has political consequences. Market-based approaches shift responsibility to individual consumers, which can foreclose other avenues for collective decision-making about how food systems should be governed.

Mandatory versus voluntary labelling

Canada currently doesn’t require the labelling of genetically modified (GMO) or gene-edited foods. Under the Food and Drugs Act, labelling is mandated only when a product poses a health or safety concern.

This is at odds with approaches elsewhere. For example, the U.S. National Bioengineered Food Disclosure Standard requires companies to label genetically engineered foods, while decisions about the labelling of gene-edited foods are made on a case-by-case basis.

In Canada, voluntary labelling is permitted provided it’s truthful and not misleading. The Canadian Standards Board, scheduled soon to cease operations due to budget cuts, provides guidance on voluntary labelling for genetically engineered foods. Notably, its definition of genetic engineering excludes both conventional breeding and gene editing.

The Canada organics sector relies on voluntary non-GMO food labelling. Similar to international organic standards, certified organic products in Canada prohibit the use of genetically engineered and gene-edited seeds, feed and food.

Following Health Canada’s approval of gene-edited pigs in January, organic pork producer duBreton introduced Canada’s first verified non-gene-edited and non-cloned meat label.

This proposed label was also a response to a now-paused federal proposal to exclude cloned animals from the definition of novel foods, a move that would allow cloned meat to enter the market without consumer or government notification.

A lack of public engagement

The labelling of gene-edited meat raises several questions. Food labels can support consumer autonomy and transparency, but labels are not good at conveying complicated information. Labels also privilege market forces for making collective decisions, instead of other democratic processes such as public deliberation and stringent regulation.

In a regulatory context that largely promotes biotechnology while offering few opportunities for meaningful public engagement, it remains unclear whether labelling is the most effective democratic approach to gene-edited meat in Canada.

As gene-edited animals potentially become more common in global food systems, the question is not just whether to label these products, but which political opportunities labelling creates or restricts — and for whose benefit.

Gwendolyn Blue receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. She is also affiliated with the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council funded training program, Genome Editing for Food Security and Environmental Sustainability (GEFSES).

– ref. Gene-edited meat in Canada: To label or not to label? – https://theconversation.com/gene-edited-meat-in-canada-to-label-or-not-to-label-274904

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Tamara Krawchenko, Associate Professor, School of Public Administration, University of Victoria

In the past year, leaders of Alberta’s main separatist organization have travelled repeatedly to Washington, D.C., for quiet meetings with senior American government officials in the Treasury and State departments. They’ve reportedly discussed everything from adopting the American dollar to building an independent Alberta military.

These highly unusual interactions — which prompted Canada to warn the Donald Trump administration to respect Canadian sovereignty — are unfolding just as a new Angus Reid poll shows 29 per cent of Albertans would vote, or are inclined to vote, for separation if a referendum were held today.

This is a clear minority, but it’s also an indication of some discontentment. The more interesting question is why a province that has long been among Canada’s richest feels so hard done by that some are willing to contemplate breaking up the country.

---

Read more:
What if Alberta really did vote to separate?

---

Alberta defies the usual template

Andrés Rodríguez‑Pose, a professor of economic geography at the London School of Economics, argues that populist eruptions are rooted in regions suffering persistent economic decline, demographic loss and a pervasive sense that they have been “left behind” in a globalized economy.

In Europe and the United States, voters in deindustrialized regions have used the ballot box to punish political leaders for abandoning them. The core grievance is material and territorial: my region is poorer, ignored and slipping further behind.

Alberta does not fit that template.

Its economy has grown faster than any other province since 1950, and it still sits near the top of Canada’s income and employment league tables, even after oil price shocks.

In fact, a central anomaly of Canadian federalism is that Alberta’s economic heft far exceeds its population and representation in Ottawa, feeding a sense of under‑recognized importance rather than marginality.

Alberta is not a place that “doesn’t matter” economically; the anger of those who want to separate stems from believing it matters a great deal and is nonetheless disrespected.

A long history of grievance politics

To understand today’s sovereigntist turn, we need to situate it in Alberta’s political culture. For nearly a century, Alberta political leaders have fused populism, “western alienation” and oil politics into a powerful narrative about Ottawa exploiting the province’s resources.

---

Read more:
Alberta has long accused Ottawa of trying to destroy its oil industry. Here’s why that’s a dangerous myth

---

From Social Credit premiers William Aberhart and Ernest Manning through to Progressive Conservative Peter Lougheed, provincial governments portrayed hard‑working Albertans as besieged by federal political leaders and eastern “money powers” siphoning off “their” oil wealth.

That story hardened during the National Energy Program in the 1980s and was revived against former prime minister Justin Trudeau’s climate policies and carbon pricing, which UCP governments portrayed as an attack on a fossil‑fuel‑based way of life.

Recent scholarship shows how this individualism, free‑market ideology and fossil‑fuel identity has been continually updated through the Reform Party, the “firewall” letter, Jason Kenney’s “Fair Deal Panel” and, most recently, Premier Danielle Smith’s Alberta Sovereignty Within a United Canada Act.

Alberta’s sovereigntist politics are therefore less an aberration than a radicalization of longstanding themes: populist anti‑elite rhetoric, resentment of Ottawa and a deep attachment to oil and gas.

The Alberta Prosperity Project

The Alberta Prosperity Project (APP) crystallizes this paradox. Its leaders speak the language of hardship and urgency — “we see the writing on the wall” — and claim Alberta must seize “freedom, prosperity and sovereignty” from a confederation that no longer shares its “values” and “entrepreneurship.”

Their draft fiscal blueprint, The Value of Freedom, promises that independence would unleash tens of billions in savings, eliminate personal income tax, slash other taxes and transform Alberta into “the most prosperous country in the world.”

Central to this case is the complaint that Albertans pay too much to Ottawa and get too little back in return — especially through equalization and other transfers. In this telling, sovereignty — or at least a radically “restructured” relationship with Canada — is the only way to stop Ottawa from siphoning off the fruits of Alberta’s oil.

Yet this narrative glosses over Alberta’s own choices. During boom years, successive Conservative governments — strongly backed by many of the same constituencies now drawn to sovereigntist rhetoric — cut taxes, kept royalties comparatively low and resisted building a large, Norway‑style savings fund.

---

Read more:
Alberta budget means Albertans are trapped on a relentless fiscal rollercoaster ride

---

At the same time, Alberta chronically under-invested in health care, education and social services relative to its fiscal capacity, leaving systems stretched even before the COVID-19 pandemic. When oil prices fell, the result was not simply federal neglect but the exposure of a model that had privileged low taxes and immediate consumption over long‑term resilience.

In other words, the Alberta Prosperity Project is right that Albertans feel squeezed — but its account of who did the squeezing is selective. Sovereigntists who blame Ottawa and equalization for every shortfall ignore the role of provincial policy in creating the ongoing boom-and-bust cycle in Alberta.

‘Fossilized’ regionalism

Another source of discontent lies in the collision between Alberta’s oil‑dependent economy and the global climate transition.

Scholars say Alberta regionalism is “fossilized” — decades of political and economic investment in oil and gas have locked in expectations about jobs, identity and provincial autonomy.

As federal and international climate policies intensify, many Albertans interpret decarbonization as a threat. In a 2023 poll, three in five Albertans said they believe the province is right to resist the federal government’s net-zero goals.

The fear is not that Alberta has been excluded from growth, but that it will be deliberately left behind in the next economy while its existing wealth is constrained or stranded.

The Alberta Prosperity Project’s fiscal plan doubles down on hydrocarbons, promising prosperity through continued or expanded oil and gas development while railing against “externally imposed limits” on emissions.

Idiosyncrasies

The Alberta Prosperity Project embodies the idiosyncrasies of this approach. It calls for an independent, low‑tax petro‑state, denounces federal redistribution and promises world‑leading prosperity. Yet it rarely acknowledges that the same political camp has historically opposed higher royalties, stronger stabilization funds and robust social investment when times were good.

It presents the climate transition as an illegitimate imposition rather than a predictable structural shift that responsible governments could have prepared for.

Recent revelations that APP leaders have been workshopping state‑building with senior U.S. officials shows this isn’t just a symbolic protest, but an attempt to secure external backing for an oil‑centred future that Canada’s constitutional order and climate obligations cannot sustain.

Alberta’s sovereigntist discontent is a three-way collision: long‑cultivated politics of grievance against Ottawa; a self‑inflicted fiscal and social vulnerability rooted in decisions made during boom years; and a global energy transition that threatens a deeply embedded regional identity.

The danger? In insisting on a future of perpetual oil‑funded prosperity while railing against transfers and federal authority, movements like APP offer Albertans a superficially compelling story that cannot be reconciled with either Canada’s Constitution or the realities of a warming world.

Tamara Krawchenko is a Research Lead with the University of Victoria-led Accelerating Community Energy Transformation initiative; a Research Fellow with the Institute for Research on Public Policy; an expert panelist with the Canadian Climate Institute and; a board member with Ecotrust Canada.

– ref. As Alberta separatists court the U.S., prosperity is fuelling a sovereigntist turn – https://theconversation.com/as-alberta-separatists-court-the-u-s-prosperity-is-fuelling-a-sovereigntist-turn-274914

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Taylor McKee, Assistant Professor, Sport Management, Brock University

As the 2026 Winter Olympics in Milan Cortina unfold, the world is once again turning its gaze to the podium. But for most nations, the importance of the Olympics extends well beyond medals.

The Games are a place where nations tell stories about themselves: who belongs, who represents them and how secure that nation feels in the world. National sporting events offer a way to make abstract ideas like sovereignty and belonging visible.

As humanities scholar Homi K. Bhabha argues in his book on nationhood, nations are not fixed entities, but are continually retold, like stories. The Olympics provide one of the most visible stages for nations to shape narratives about themselves.

At a time when Canada and other countries are feeling pressure about their sovereignty, the Olympic Games are taking on heightened symbolic meaning.

But Indigenous athletes, in particular, reveal the limits of using sport to perform national unity, and show how multiple sovereignties continue to exist within “Team Canada.”

Forging a nation through sport

One of the earliest Canadian sports stories ever told was explicitly about forging something new under the weight of empire. In 1867, days after Confederation, a working-class crew from Saint John, New Brunswick, competed in rowing at the Paris Exhibition, a world’s fair held in France.

The “Paris Crew” quickly became a national symbol, not just because they won, but because the victory felt like a young country holding its own against an older imperial world. It became a story of Canadians carving out space on an international stage that was not designed with them in mind.

Over time, what it meant to see Canada represented in sport started to change. By the early 2000s, a familiar insecurity lingered.

This sentiment did not survive Canada’s exceptional performance at Vancouver 2010 when the country won a historic 14 gold medals.

In the lead-up to those Olympics, the federal government invested heavily in a high-performance system built to deliver medals. Even the name of the initiative — Own the Podium — put it plainly. Excellence was no longer a wish for Canada, but the standard, and the resources followed.

When sovereignty feels unsettled again

Today, the ground feels less stable again. Canada’s relationship with its closest ally, the United States, is under intense strain due to ongoing tariff disputes and repeated threats to Canadian sovereignty from the American president.

Canadians are testing their mettle by discerning whether they have the skills and endurance to publicly defend and perform sovereignty on the national stage.

Sport is an ideal forum for this because it’s already built as a competition among national units, even when lived reality is far more regional and local.

This renewed attention to sovereignty can feel like a throwback to the Paris Crew moment, when defeating bigger powers looked like a form of self-determination.

Dual narratives

The effort to balance the complexities of national pride and sovereignty under a colonial shadow takes on even more complexity through the participation of Indigenous athletes.

Following Alwyn Morris and Hugh Fisher’s 1000-metre sprint kayak gold medal at the 1984 Summer Olympics, Morris gave an eagle feather salute to his grandfather. This moment is widely remembered as a positive example of Indigenous resurgence through sport, and a reclaiming of cultural space.

At the same time, as Morris himself has explained, the gesture was a reminder that Indigenous identity does not dissolve into “Team Canada,” even during moments many Canadians want to read as uncomplicated unity.

That is why Morris’s salute still matters. It shows how representation can hold two truths at once. Morris was awarded gold while wearing red and white, but he claimed his win as one for “the other part of who [he] is,” showing how Indigenous sport stories cannot be reduced to a single national storyline.

Indigenous resistance through sport

Perhaps the longest-running example of Indigenous resistance through sport is the Haudenosaunee Nationals lacrosse team, which competes internationally as a sovereign nation.

Contemporary lacrosse reflects a version of the sport that is much different than what Haudenosaunee People have traditionally revered as a “medicine game.” In the late 1800s, when “The Creator’s Game” was colonized and rebranded as “Canada’s National Game,” Indigenous peoples were barred from competition.

Today, the Haudenosaunee Nationals are the only sports organization in the world to compete in international competitions while representing an Indigenous confederacy as a sovereign nation.

Representing the Haudenosaunee, the Nationals embody Indigenous reclamation and resurgence. With lacrosse returning to the 2028 Summer Olympics, the Haudenosaunee’s claim for sovereignty is once again on the line.

Canada’s national story

For most Canadians, international sport is the easiest place to feel the nation in real time. A flag goes up. An anthem plays. A medal table is refreshed. In a few minutes of speed, grace and accuracy, complicated questions about history, economy and belonging collapse into a simple narrative.

Through these articulations of Indigenous sovereignty, representation and resurgence, Indigenous athletes have reminded “Team Canada” why this narrative isn’t as simple as it feels. For Indigenous Canadian athletes, participation is about representing the communities that came together to believe in them.

It’s about celebrating family strength, healing inter-generational trauma and leading a new path. It’s about resisting threats to sovereignty and reclaiming what was taken away.

That is exactly why sport becomes so charged when Canadians feel our sovereignty is under pressure, whether that pressure is literal, symbolic or both. In sport, athletes are asked to do more than win medals — they are asked to stand in for Canada itself and to reassure audiences that the country is coherent, respected and capable of protecting what is considered ours.

Taylor McKee receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

Janelle Joseph receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.

Lucas Rotondo 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 Indigenous athletes challenge simple ideas of national unity at the Olympics – https://theconversation.com/how-indigenous-athletes-challenge-simple-ideas-of-national-unity-at-the-olympics-274408

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Ozlem Cankaya, Associate Professor, Early Childhood Curriculum Studies, MacEwan University

Parents looking to support their children’s learning in science, technology, engineering and mathematics (STEM) will find no shortage of branded STEM sets, subscription science boxes, private coding programs or educational toys for kids.

If the idea of STEM in early childhood is associated with these products and experiences — in conjunction with public discussion and media coverage around the need to amplify STEM learning — it could be easy to absorb a misleading message that children need these purchased items and paid programs to develop STEM competence.

Contrary to this assumption, our research has examined how some of the most foundational elements of STEM learning, related to behaviours like explaining how things are built or work and exploring mathematical ideas, may begin far more organically.

Such learning emerges, for example, when children stack cardboard tubes, balance objects, test what fits where or redesign a structure that collapses moments after it is built.

Why are children drawn to everyday objects

Researchers have found that certain toys or play materials (like LEGO, wooden blocks or sand) can support STEM learning and cognitive development. For instance, playing with blocks can increase mathematical knowledge and engineering behaviours.

However, some STEM-marketed toys are designed to function in specific ways. Instructions prescribe how to assemble the pieces step by step. While these toys can be enjoyable and engaging, they often limit how much children need to figure out for themselves. When a toy already demonstrates its purpose, there is less opportunity for problem-solving, experimentation or sustained exploration.

On the other hand, children constantly scan their environment to see what they can use in their play and how. Some objects they find in their environment may not have been designed as toys but can be repurposed during play.

Items like cardboard, buttons, fabric scraps, tubes, containers or pieces of wood do not dictate to children what to do with them — as some toys do. Instead, children must decide how to use them, what they might represent and how they can be combined. This versatility is important because it requires children to actively think, plan, test ideas, evaluate the results and revise their actions.

Time and space to explore

Our research team examined how children use everyday objects in their play when they are given time and space to explore independently. We focused on children’s free play with materials drawn from their immediate environment that could be used in multiple ways, such as string, rocks, fabric, spools and cork coasters.

We observed 60 pre-school-aged children engaged in solitary play in two sessions: one with everyday objects and another with toys designed for a single, specific use — toy percussion instruments, which we called limited-purpose toys. This approach allowed us to directly compare how the same child engaged with different types of play materials.

The differences were striking. Children played significantly longer with everyday objects. They also engaged in more STEM-related behaviours — frequently constructing structures, explaining how things were built or worked, exploring mathematical ideas and communicating their goals frequently — than when they played with limited-purpose toys.

Children in the study were more likely to engage in STEM thinking during play with everyday materials if their parents valued play and regularly engaged in playful activities. We asked parents of children who participated to fill out a detailed survey about their home learning environment, and to what extent they thought certain activities and their frequency was important, including play.

Ambiguity invites curiosity

When other researchers explored how children’s causal thinking is affected by toys they found that even very young children collect data by observing, and were more likely to explore toys that offered ambiguous causal relationships than the ones that provided expected results. They concluded that this ambiguity creates motivation in children for thoughtful and targeted exploration.

From a young age, children observe and interact with their surroundings that leads to testing ideas, learning from outcomes, and refining their understanding of how the world works through everyday experience.

When play is treated as meaningful rather than as a break from learning, children may be more comfortable exploring, persisting through challenges and taking ownership of their ideas.

These attitudes align closely with dispositions that support STEM learning, such as curiosity, persistence and willingness to revise one’s thinking.

How adults respond to children’s play

A key insight from our work is that children do not need explicit instruction to engage in meaningful STEM thinking and learning.

Preparing children for STEM success begins when children are trusted to explore, experiment and construct meaning from the materials around them. Encouraging STEM success does not require expensive materials or highly structured activities.

Providing children with time, space and access to everyday objects that can be used in many ways creates opportunities for rich experiences.

Equally important is how adults respond to children’s play. Children’s time spent playing with adults such as grandparents, parents and teachers, can be a time to learn new skills, practice existing abilities and build interests.

---

Read more:
How caregivers can help build children’s emerging language skills

---

Building blocks of STEM

Children who are better able to hold ideas in mind, plan steps and adjust strategies are more likely to engage deeply in activities. Asking children to explain what they are building, inviting them to think about why something worked or did not work, or simply allowing them time to explore without interruption can deepen the STEM learning embedded in play.

The building blocks of STEM are in recycling bins, kitchen drawers, backyards and classrooms, waiting to be noticed. When we shift our focus from buying the right materials to creating the right conditions for play, we move STEM learning out of the marketplace and back into children’s lives.

If we want children who are curious, resilient problem-solvers, the answer may be simpler than we think. Trust their play. Make room for it. And recognize that long before children ever write code or build robots, they are already doing STEM, one cardboard tube, loose part and bold idea at a time.

Ozlem Cankaya receives funding from MacEwan University (grant number RES0000756) and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (grant number 430-2023-00267). She is affiliated with the Council for Early Learning and Care, Terra Centre, and the International Toy Research Association.

Natalia Rohatyn-Martin receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council (grant numbers 430-2023-00267 and 435-2025-1131).

– ref. How children’s play with everyday objects can encourage skills needed for STEM success – https://theconversation.com/how-childrens-play-with-everyday-objects-can-encourage-skills-needed-for-stem-success-274274

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Myriam Denov, Professor and Canada Research Chair in Children, Families and Armed Conflict, McGill University

Editor’s note: This story is the first in a series of articles from Canada’s top social sciences and humanities academics. Click here to register for In Conversation with Myriam Denov, Feb. 25 at 1 p.m. ET. This is a virtual event co-hosted by The Conversation Canada and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

From Gaza to Ukraine and from Sudan to Myanmar, war rages across the globe, exacting its gravest toll on those least implicated in the violence: children. Today, an estimated 520 million children worldwide — or one in six — live in conflict zones. Yet even when fighting subsides and peace agreements are signed, violence doesn’t always end. War’s impact endures.

Northern Uganda provides a case in point. During the decades-long conflict from 1987 to 2006, the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), led by Joseph Kony, was formed to overthrow the Ugandan government and became well-known for the atrocities and war crimes it committed against civilians. The LRA abducted an estimated 80,000 children into armed conflict — a tactic meant to terrorize communities and swell the LRA’s ranks.

“Rose,” for example, was just 14 years old when the LRA abducted her from school in the mid-1990s. For eight years, she was held captive, forced to fight, coerced into a so-called “marriage” with an LRA commander and subjected to relentless abuse, including sexual violence. Her daughter, Grace, was born of that violence. Grace spent her early childhood in LRA captivity amid brutality, hunger, bombardment and displacement.

When Rose courageously escaped the LRA with Grace after eight years in captivity, they returned not to support but to rejection. Their community viewed them with fear and suspicion. Grace was stigmatized at school, within her extended family and in the wider community, branded “Kony’s child” after the rebel leader. Without stable housing and repeatedly displaced, Grace was forced to leave school and sell goods in the marketplace to support her family.

One day on her long rural walk to the market, the unimaginable happened. Grace was raped, later learning that she was pregnant as the result of the rape. In 2018, and still a teenager, Grace gave birth to Alice, a third-generation child whose life has already been shaped by a war that officially ended years earlier.

War does not end with ceasefires, but is transmitted across generations through stigma, violence, poverty and social exclusion. And despite their inherent connection to conflict, children born of war remain largely invisible in post-conflict discussion and justice efforts.

The war after the war

Sexual violence has long been used as a weapon of war. In recent years, the world has begun to acknowledge its devastating consequences for survivors, including physical injury, psychological trauma, economic marginalization and social exclusion. What remains far less visible are the intergenerational legacies of these crimes, particularly for children born of wartime sexual violence.

My ongoing research with children and youth like Grace shows they often face challenges strikingly similar to those of their mothers.

Many struggle to feel they belong, either within their families or their communities. They are frequently subjected to stigma and rejection. This stigma takes the form of being labelled “violent,” “dangerous” or “rebel children,” who are said to be cursed with “bad spirits” within their families, communities, schools and peer groups. This makes it difficult to develop a secure belonging and identity.

These children are also more likely to experience family and community violence and to encounter barriers to education, health care, land, inheritance, employment and legal rights.

Grace described the hostility she continues to face — and how the violence does not necessarily stop with the second generation — in stark terms:

“Life is hard here because people stigmatize us … they have turned their hate against us. In my family, they hate those of us who were born in captivity. My uncle beats us and said he would kill us. He doesn’t want rebel children, Kony children, at home … I know my child will face stigma. As long as my family is not willing to accept me, I believe they will reject my child as well.”

Rose also fears that Alice will one day inherit the same stigma, echoing Grace’s concerns:

“I feel it is possible my grandchild may be stigmatized because of my daughter’s past. They will say, ‘You see this beautiful child? Her mother was born in the bush.’”

For these families, war has not ended, it has simply changed shape. As one young man in my research who was born of sexual violence during wartime put it: “The war that we are now faced with is stigma.”

How resilience is passed down

And yet violence and devastation are not the whole story. Recognizing intergenerational harm does not mean reducing these families and their lineage to trauma alone.

Across generations and alongside profound loss, there is also resilience, resolve and an unyielding determination to build a different life.

Children born of war in northern Uganda are acutely aware of the sacrifices their mothers made to keep them alive. One young man recalled his mother’s escape from the LRA, carrying him through the bush while evading armed fighters, surviving on stolen cassava and refusing to leave his side even when confronted by death. “She held my hand,” he said. “She never left me.”

These memories of protection and survival are not just recollections of pain, they are sources of strength. Many children draw on them to imagine a future not defined solely by violence. Despite poverty, ostracism and ongoing marginalization, Grace spoke with clarity about what she wants for Alice:

“I want my child to be a doctor. I will support my child in every way possible to achieve this dream.”

This capacity to endure, adapt and hope is not accidental. It reflects what I have described as intergenerational resilience — the ways families transmit strength, meaning and survival strategies across generations, even in the aftermath of extreme violence.

Like a family heirloom, this resilience is forged through collective experience and memory. It equips young people with tools to confront adversity and reframes resilience not as an individual trait, but as a relational and intergenerational process rooted in family bonds and care.

What recognition makes possible

Too often, children born of war are reduced to dehumanizing labels in the countries where the war/genocide has occurred, often referring to them as “children of hate” or “bastards.” Such portrayals obscure both the violence that produced their marginalization and the extraordinary capacities they demonstrate to survive it.

If we continue to treat war as something that ends when peace agreements are signed, we will fail generations of children like Grace and Alice. Post-conflict recovery efforts, transitional justice processes and humanitarian responses must reckon with the fact that war’s harms are cumulative and intergenerational. This requires the meaningful inclusion of children born of war in reconciliation processes, reparations, community sensitization efforts and formal recognition in inheritance and citizenship law.

---

Read more:
Why Canada must step up to protect children in a period of global turmoil

---

This also means addressing stigma as a form of ongoing violence, ensuring access to education, employment and legal rights for children born of war and recognizing them not as symbols of past atrocities, but as rights-bearing individuals with futures worth investing in.

As one young participant who is part of my ongoing research in northern Uganda declared, reclaiming a narrative so often denied to them: “We are the light that came out of darkness.”

Intergenerational harms are not unique to northern Uganda, they are unfolding wherever war engulfs children today. And if we are serious about ending war’s toll on children, we must listen — and act accordingly.

Myriam Denov receives funding from the Social Science and Humanities Research Council of Canada, and the Canada Research Chair Program.

– ref. The war after the war: How violence is passed down through generations – https://theconversation.com/the-war-after-the-war-how-violence-is-passed-down-through-generations-273669

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Mathieu Lajante, Associate Professor in Marketing, Toronto Metropolitan University

In the weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day, dating apps typically see a spike in new users and activity. More profiles are created, more messages sent, more swipes logged.

Dating platforms market themselves as modern technological solutions to loneliness, right at your fingertips. And yet, for many people, the day meant to celebrate romantic connection feels lonelier than ever.

This, rather than a personal failure or the reality of modern romance, is the outcome of how dating apps are designed and of the economic logic that governs them.

These digital tools aren’t simply interfaces that facilitate connection. The ease and expansiveness of online dating have commodified social bonds, eroded meaningful interactions and created a type of dating throw-away culture, encouraging a sense of disposability and distorting decision-making.

The business of modern dating

Online dating apps are big business.

Match Group, a technology company that dominates the online dating sector with an extensive portfolio of dating app products — including Tinder, Hinge, Match.com, OkCupid, Plenty of Fish and OurTime — reported fourth-quarter revenue of US$878 million this month.

Its analysis showed fewer people paying for its apps, with paying users down five per cent year over year.

The decline appears to reflect a trend prompting the company to develop new artificial intelligence tools to drive user growth and appeal to younger customers. Part of this means converting free users into paying ones.

Dating apps don’t sell love. They sell the feeling that love is one premium upgrade away. The platforms aren’t primarily designed for users to find love and promptly delete the apps from their phones. They’re designed to keep users swiping.

Why swiping never ends

Prolonged uncertainty is profitable. By creating the sense that a better match is always one swipe away keeps users engaged. Design strategies that gamify choice, offer intermittent variable rewards (like a slot machine) and frequent push notifications produce a fear-of-missing-out mentality and can lead to compulsive and addictive patterns of use.

Maximizing user interaction and time spent on the app and accumulating consumer data turn users into lucrative opportunities for paid features, monthly subscriptions and advertising dollars.

Dating apps market the idea that dating platforms can achieve our social goals more efficiently and more intelligently, meeting a real-world need with a technological solution.

In this system, people are expected to constantly improve and optimize themselves. Paying for added features becomes an investment in oneself, while value is determined by desirability, performance and outcomes.

By creating an interesting profile, crafting witty messages and curating photos and videos of ourselves, we commodify our time and self-worth, reinforcing the idea that we alone are responsible for our success on the apps, even if the playing field is strategically manipulated to keep us on them longer.

So are we being set up to fail? The distinction between failure and success overlooks a key issue: dating apps function as political entities that control access to and distribution of resources.

Changing social reality

Online dating apps sell us hope by exploiting our needs, desires and insecurities. When apps keep hinting that something better is just one more swipe away, they start to reshape our expectations, and even inflate them.

Typically, people employ a decision-making strategy called “satisficer,” which refers to both “satisfy” and “suffice.” This means we generally choose something that’s good enough, rather than searching endlessly for perfection, because of limits on time, information and cognitive energy. In relationship decisions, compatibility used to be enough.

With apps, there’s an endless supply of options — endless potential partners, endless possibilities. The issue is that the options feel infinite and, as a result, we’re being trained not to be satisfied anymore. Rather, we’re encouraged to keep swiping.

This process creates a stream of potential matches that commodifies social interactions by using user engagement to refine algorithms. The platforms serve as central planners of resource access, production and distribution, offering the information technologies and databases that guide decisions in a global market of potential partners. As a result, human actions are treated as market-based transactions.

Users adopt a consumption mindset in which choosing partners is no different from shopping, constantly comparing others and discarding some in search of the highest-value partner.

Rather than being defined by connection or mutual care, interactions become a question of optimizing our choices among endless options. The illusion of oversupply creates the sense that people are replaceable and forces them to compete on superficial standards of beauty or status. Success and desirability on these platforms tend to reinforce existing hierarchies such as class, race and religion.

These tools can also promote a rejection mindset, with users more likely to reject potential partners as the number of options increases, becoming more closed off to romantic opportunities.

Loneliness is a feature, not a flaw

Reducing romantic connection to a commodity weakens social bonds and prioritizes individual success over community, leading to increased isolation and loneliness.

Dating apps are active platforms that prioritize personal preferences and individual strategies rather than addressing structural inequalities or the underlying causes of loneliness.

By fostering a competitive digital environment, these apps encourage disposability and change how people assess and select one another, often resulting in burnout and cynicism.

Users are prompted to view themselves as products to be optimized and others as options to evaluate. Dependence on dating apps to address loneliness ultimately weakens our social bonds and alters how we engage with one another.

Mathieu Lajante is the founder and principal at BomaliQ Inc.

Sameh Al Natour is affiliated with Liberal Party of Canada.

– ref. What dating apps are really optimizing. Hint: it isn’t love – https://theconversation.com/what-dating-apps-are-really-optimizing-hint-it-isnt-love-274931

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Robert Huish, Associate Professor in International Development Studies, Dalhousie University

If you’re planning on a winter break to Cuba, get ready for an adventure rather than a vacation. If you’re wondering if United States President Donald Trump’s oil embargo will shatter Cuba’s Communist government, dig in for a drawn-out slog. And if you’re Cuban, brace for a nightmare.

Cuba is on the brink of one of the worst social and economic catastrophes since the 1959 revolution. Energy sources are sparse. The electrical grid is in tatters.

Inflation is over 15 per cent, with the peso tumbling in value. Tropical diseases like dengue, chikunguny and Oropuche virus are surging, largely because the municipal waste system in Havana ground to a halt in 2025.

As many as two million Cubans have left the country since 2021. Infant mortality spiked from five per 1,000 live births in 2021 to 14 per 1,000 in late 2025.

And now, revenue streams from tourism, international medical co-operation and pharmaceutical production are all but dried up. Some 5,000 Cubans volunteered as mercenaries to fight alongside Russia against Ukraine since 2022. Cuba is hurting.

The U.S. versus Cuba

Cuba’s current pain may not be enough to topple its Communist government, despite the desires of many Cuban exiles. Nor is the current crisis all Trump’s work. Cuba is a victim of the breakdown of the old international rules-based order.

---

Read more:
Venezuela attack, Greenland threats and Gaza assault mark the collapse of international legal order

---

The U.S. has long targeted Cuba through various economic weapons dating from the early 1960s. One of the most vicious was the Helms-Burton Act that not only prohibited U.S. companies from doing business with Cuba, but also punished companies in other countries for dealing with both Cuba and the U.S.

In his second term, U.S. President Barack Obama eased travel restrictions for Americans visiting Cuba along with some trade policies, but this was short-lived. Trump restored these measures in his first administration.

Cuban doctors

For decades, Cuba relied on an elaborate network of international solidarity and co-operation with rich and poor countries alike. More than 100,000 Cuban doctors served abroad, often providing medical care in rural and remote locations.

While Cuban doctors working abroad received a salary bump, the government received handsome cash deposits and preferred trade agreements for select products. Venezuela received tens of thousands of Cuban doctors and, later, security personnel in exchange for heavy petroleum.

---

Read more:
Big Pharma vs. Little Cuba: Why Cubans trust vaccines and how they’re helping vaccinate the world

---

Cuban doctors served in 103 countries, and as of 2021, they were active in 69 nations. Agreements were also made for other personnel to work abroad, including athletic coaches, teachers and engineers.

The U.S. targeted Cuba’s international solidarity work in 2006 by creating the Cuban Medical Professional Parole program, which essentially regarded Cuban workers as “trafficked.”

The State Department approved an annual US$10 million budget until 2017 to locate and recruit Cuban and Cuban-trained doctors working in poor areas of Latin America and Africa. Diplomats offered them expedited immigration to the U.S. But upon arrival, many had their medical credentials ignored and wound up unemployed or underemployed.

Global support

Against one of the longest economic blockades in history, Cuba has nonetheless positioned itself as an active global player. It’s a diplomatic heavyweight with 139 active embassies and consulates worldwide and well over 100 foreign embassies in Havana.

The United Nations General Assembly routinely denounces the American embargo on Cuba. In 2025, amid shifting political alliances, the assembly voted 165-7 in favour of demanding an end to the embargo.

Many international partnerships have kept Cuba going through hard times in the past. Canada, Italy and Mexico, in particular, have kept business with Cuba going despite the U.S. embargo. In the 1990s, tourism expanded, notably from these countries, helping to stimulate the Cuban economy.

Canadian mining company Sherritt invested heavily in Cuba to extract nickel. When COVID-19 overwhelmed health systems worldwide in 2020, Cuba was the first to volunteer medical services to 19 countries, including affluent states like Italy and Qatar. They even took in a quarantined British cruise ship to offer care.

---

Read more:
The scene from Cuba: How it’s getting so much right on COVID-19

---

But in 2026, countries are sending in aircraft to evacuate their vacationing nationals, and companies like Sherritt are grinding to a halt, not because of the U.S. embargo, but because so many professionally trained Cubans have emigrated.

Unlike the 1960s and the 1990s, no brave partners are coming forward to do business with Cuba, which only shows how weak international solidarity is today.

Here are three possible outcomes for Cuba in the coming months in descending order of likelihood:

1. Deals behind the scenes

A backroom deal could be struck between Trump’s White House and Miguel Díaz-Canal’s government in Cuba in much the same way that the Obama administration struck deals with Raúl Castro’s government, working through the Vatican and Canadian diplomats. For example, the Trump administration could permit fuel to be purchased in cash from the U.S., or more tourist real estate may be opened to foreign ownership.

If any deal is in the works, the sticking point will be elections. Unlike Venezuela, with a legitimate opposition in the wings, Cuba has none. Political opponents to the revolution have long been jailed or exiled, and Cuba’s electoral system itself isn’t structured for a multi-party race. Toppling the current government would leave an enormous power vacuum.

2. Martial law

If the fuel embargo remains, Cuba could declare martial law and civil defence to prepare for foreign hostility and to better ration resources.

Díaz-Canal recently hinted at this in what he calls a “war of the people,” which may help explain why Canadian and Russian airlines are now hastily sending in rescue flights for tourists.

Martial law would mean ultra-tight rationing, political volatility and the government acquiring goods through murky channels, which, combined, pose a heightened security risk to the U.S. just 140 kilometres off its shores. Since Dwight D. Eisenhower, most American presidents quickly figured out it was better to have a stable and secure, even though ideologically opposed, neighbour than a politically unstable and vulnerable basketcase.

The situation will grow dire since the well-educated professional class has already left, along with many doctors and nurses. In past crises, the educated, youthful professional class was on hand; this time, they’re already gone.

3. The international community steps in

Third, the world could stand by its sentiment at the United Nations General Assembly and sends much-needed resources and trade to Cuba despite the U.S. bellicosity.

It could be a rallying point for the new era of international order, where bullied countries in the Americas and in Europe defy American pressure and bring lifelines to Cuba.

---

Read more:
Mark Carney’s Davos speech marks a major departure from Canada’s usual approach to the U.S.

---

International solidarity could reverse some of the harm and take the pressure off Cubans, including those so desperate they’d choose to fight as mercenaries with Russia.

As the world has seen before, when nations stand up to Trump, he usually backs down. Assistance need not come through foreign aid, but simply by keeping the channels open for business.

But if the international community ignores Cuba today, a humanitarian nightmare will unfold soon.

Robert Huish receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

– ref. Cuba is facing an economic and social catastrophe, and not entirely because of Donald Trump – https://theconversation.com/cuba-is-facing-an-economic-and-social-catastrophe-and-not-entirely-because-of-donald-trump-275410

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Aderonke Agboji, Assistant Professor, University of Northern British Columbia

People with brain disorders, including Parkinson’s disease and dementia, are often misdiagnosed as having depression, when in fact what they’re experiencing is apathy. This can delay an accurate diagnosis, which has negative outcomes for patients as well as for their families and caregivers.

Apathy and depression may look alike from the outside, but they arise from different neurobiological pathways and have different implications for treatment, functioning and quality of life for those affected.

Understanding and identifying the differences is crucial. My recent research focused on developing a simple assessment tool to differentiate apathy from depression.

We will see more cases as people age

Brain disorders, particularly Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias, as well as Parkinson’s disease, are common in Canada.

According to a 2017 Public Health Agency of Canada (PHAC) report, an estimated 3.6 million Canadians have been diagnosed with brain disorders. More recently, the Canadian Brain Research Strategy estimates that one in five Canadians is affected by these conditions, with a total estimate of more than 7.5 million people currently living with brain conditions.

As the Canadian population ages due to demographic shifts and improved survival rates from once-fatal illnesses, the number of people living with these disorders will increase significantly.

As of January 2025, dementia alone affected 771,939 Canadians aged 65 and older. The prevalence of dementia increases with age. The likelihood of a diagnosis more than doubles every five years after age 65. We can therefore expect more than 1.7 million Canadians to be living with dementia by 2050.

Similarly, Parkinson’s disease currently affects more than 100,000 Canadians aged 40 and older, with about 38 new diagnoses each day. Current projections predict that by 2050, the rate may rise by nearly 70 per cent.

A growing body of evidence suggests Canada is not prepared for this reality. Expert reviews and health-system assessments highlight persistent barriers to care including limited specialist access, long diagnostic wait times, insufficient standardized care pathways and infrastructure gaps (for example, limited neuroimaging capacity) that constrain early and equitable diagnosis and treatment.

Why we must do better

The lack of Canada’s preparedness for the rapidly growing number of people with brain disorders is harmful in many ways. These include delayed diagnosis and missed opportunities for early intervention, as well as an unsustainable reliance on emergency departments when crises occur.

Fewer than half of Canadians currently living with dementia receive a formal diagnosis. In many regions, wait times for specialist assessments exceed one to two years, further delaying care planning and symptom management. These delays cause significant stress and strain on patients and their family members, many of whom are left to provide a high level of unpaid caregiving without sufficient supports or resources.

As a result, family caregivers often experience both mental and physical health issues that can profoundly reduce their quality of life and place further strain on existing health-care systems. One of the biggest sources of stress is a lack of diagnosis or misdiagnosis.

The key to diagnosis

One of the biggest barriers in accessing timely and accurate diagnoses is the fact that symptoms of brain disorders, particularly apathy, can present very similarly to symptoms of depression. While depression may accompany brain disorders, focusing too narrowly on the symptoms can lead to inappropriate care plans and unsuitable medications, as depression becomes the primary diagnosis while underlying brain disorders remain undetected and undiagnosed.

Understanding apathy is central in addressing current gaps treatment and prognosis. Research shows that symptoms traditionally associated with depression, such as reduced activity and social withdrawal, commonly manifest in people who have brain disorders but it does not always involve sadness or hopelessness, which are core features of depression.

Large international studies show that apathy on its own is linked to a higher risk of cognitive decline and dementia, even when depression is not present, meaning it’s an important warning sign that can be missed if symptoms are mislabelled. When apathy is mistaken for depression, people may receive treatments that worsen their apathy, leading to decreased daily functioning, higher caregiver stress, increased safety risks and poorer health over time.

What we can do to improve?

To improve differentiation between apathy and depression in people with brain disorders, we need targeted assessment tools that detect motivational decline separately from mood symptoms. Research shows that standard depression scales alone often fail to identify apathy because they focus on emotional distress rather than motivation and initiative.

One solution is to adopt a brief apathy-specific tool that is quick to administer in both care settings and at home. This tool consists of three questions:

1. Have you dropped many of your activities and interests?
2. Do you prefer to stay in your room/home rather than going out and doing new things? and
3. Do you feel full of energy?

If the answers are “Yes” to question one or question two (or both) and “No” to question three, apathy — not depression — should be suspected.

Another important solution is to put training and awareness at the centre of clinical practice, education and caregiver support to improve care and quality of life for people with brain disorders.

Research shows that many clinicians, caregivers and health professionals lack specific training on how to recognize and differentiate apathy from depression, which contributes to misdiagnosis and suboptimal care.

Increasing education about apathy including how it presents, why it differs from mood disorders and how to use appropriate assessment tools helps clinicians make more accurate diagnoses and develop tailored care plans.
Training should also extend to multidisciplinary teams and family caregivers, because apathy often goes unrecognized in routine interactions and can be misinterpreted as laziness, resistance or depression.

In brain disorders where cognitive changes complicate the overlap of symptoms, differentiating between apathy and depression is essential to optimal living. Using appropriate screening tools to distinguish these symptoms can lead to better, more personalized care, improved use of health-care resources and, most importantly, can be lifesaving for people navigating complex brain disorders.

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. Understanding the difference between apathy and depression can be lifesaving for people with brain disorders – https://theconversation.com/understanding-the-difference-between-apathy-and-depression-can-be-lifesaving-for-people-with-brain-disorders-273750

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Danilo Giacometti, São Paulo Research Foundation Postdoctoral Fellow, NUPENS (USP)

It’s a cold night in a Canadian forest. Temperatures are below freezing, snow is on the ground and most animals remain hidden to avoid the harsh conditions. But one creature is braving the cold weather.

Blue-spotted salamanders (Ambystoma laterale) are on the move. These small amphibians have left their underground winter refuges and started migrating toward breeding pools, often risking freezing.

For animals whose body temperature closely follows the environment, like salamanders, freezing can be deadly, as the formation of ice inside the body can damage cells and disrupt vital functions. However, blue-spotted salamanders remain active and apparently unharmed under the freezing conditions.

As a group of biologists who study how temperature shapes animal behaviour and physiology, our team has been long fascinated by animals that keep active at low temperatures.

In a recent study, colleagues and I documented salamanders migrating with body temperatures below 0 C in the wild. Our findings highlight field-based evidence that these amphibians can function at sub-zero temperatures without freezing. In doing so, salamanders are possibly extending their breeding season.

Survival strategies

Amphibians have a thin skin that is supported by many blood vessels. This allows them to breathe through their skin; however, it also means they lose a lot of water through evaporation, especially under warm conditions. That means both exposure to extremely cold (risk of freezing) and warm temperatures (risk of desiccation) can be harmful. Consequently, amphibians are often described as extremely vulnerable to environmental change.

At the same time, amphibians are not passive victims of their environment. Many species rely on different strategies to cope with winter, a season that can last several months in parts of Canada. As winters become more unpredictable, with frequent freeze–thaw cycles and reduced snow cover, understanding these strategies is key.

Amphibians generally survive winter through freeze tolerance or freeze avoidance. Freeze-tolerant species can survive even if parts of their bodies are frozen solid. The wood frog (Lithobates sylvatica) is a well-known example: during winter, the frogs allow ice to form in their tissues while their cells are shielded by large amounts of natural antifreeze, like glucose. As temperatures rise in spring, the frogs thaw and resume their normal activity.

Instead of tolerating ice formation, freeze-avoidant animals avoid freezing altogether by keeping their body fluids in a liquid state. This can be achieved by moving to underground refuges, or, as in the case of blue-spotted salamanders, through a physiological process called super-cooling.

Supercooling: staying liquid below zero

To understand how blue-spotted salamanders cope with early spring cold, we studied migrating individuals in Ontario’s Algonquin Provincial Park. We used infrared thermal cameras to measure salamanders’ skin temperatures (an approximation of body temperature) as they moved naturally across the forest floor to make their way to Bat Lake.

This approach allowed us to record body and forest floor temperatures without the need to handle the animals, which is relevant because direct contact can quickly alter their body temperature.

As freeze-avoiders, blue-spotted salamanders would likely die if their body fluids were to freeze. This makes their early spring movement particularly risky, but this is where super-cooling comes in. Super-cooling occurs when liquids inside the animal’s body remain unfrozen below their normal freezing point.

This strategy occurs through a combination of processes. The animal removes surfaces in its body where water molecules can collect and start crystallizing through gut evacuation and partial dehydration. Producing antifreeze (typically sugars) and accumulating them in certain body parts (like the liver) also help in the process, although this occurs in smaller proportions than in freeze-tolerant species.

Previous lab-based research had shown that blue-spotted salamanders could super-cool down to about -1.5 C. Our field measurements not only validated the importance of super-cooling under natural conditions, but also demonstrated that salamanders can remain active at temperatures far below their known minimum super-cooling point, with values as low as –3.6 C.

Since we recorded individuals actively moving over ice, our observations confirm that the animals were not frozen. These results show that salamanders can push their limits further in nature than expected from lab tests alone.

Why do salamanders take the risk?

Super-cooling is unstable. Contact with ice or sudden temperature changes can trigger rapid freezing. That means salamanders moving over ice are operating close to their physiological limit. Why take the risk, then?

The answer lies in timing. Blue-spotted salamanders breed in temporary ponds formed by snowmelt and spring rain, and their breeding season lasts only a few weeks. Arriving at the ponds early increases access to suitable egg-laying sites and reduces competition. Although waiting for consistently warm nights would be safer, it could also mean missing the breeding window altogether.

Early migration appears to be a trade-off: higher short-term risk of freezing in exchange for long-term reproductive success. This behaviour also shows that salamanders respond to small changes in environmental conditions, not just average temperatures.

Winter brings with it various challenges, and opportunities, for animals. Whether they hibernate, develop antifreeze or stay super-cooled, various species have developed fascinating ways of surviving the freezing temperatures.

Danilo Giacometti receives funding from the São Paulo Research Foundation (Brazil).

– ref. Below freezing but still moving: How salamanders stay active in winter – https://theconversation.com/below-freezing-but-still-moving-how-salamanders-stay-active-in-winter-274100