Category: The Conversation – UK

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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Helen Abnett, Research Fellow, University of Hertfordshire

Autism charities are important organisations. They provide essential services for autistic people, influence policy decisions, and often speak on behalf of autistic people.

This means that how these charities write about autistic people may influence how society understands what it means to be autistic. The words and pictures that autism charities choose to use affect how autistic people are understood, perceived and cared for. This really matters, as autism is still often stigmatised.

Our recent study shows that the language and images large autism charities use mainly portray autistic people as a problem. In contrast, charities represent themselves as the solution to this problem.

In England and Wales, different kinds of charity organisation are crucial providers of public services. Charities are often seen by government as the best way to meet the needs of less-heard or underserved groups, including autistic people. Some receive specialist care and education services from autism charities.

These charities also influence policy discussions and decisions. Research conducted by autism charities is regularly mentioned in parliament. The NHS refers autistic people and their carers looking for support to both national and local charities.

Previous research has shown how certain types of charities (particularly large international development charities) describe the people they are seeking to support in developing country communities in negative and problematic ways. People are often portrayed as “passive”, “voiceless” and “(culturally) backward”.

Similarly, a small amount of research demonstrates that autism charity advertising and websites consistently convey negative portrayals of autistic people. For example, one previous study describes how an advert for a UK charity depicted autism as “a child-enveloping monster that had to be destroyed to allow a boy to live a normal life”.

How we conducted our research

For our study, we identified the largest autism charities in England and Wales. We used data held by the Charity Commission to identify charities with incomes of £10 million or more and that only provided support to autistic adults, children or both. There were 11 charities that met these criteria. Then, we downloaded the most recent annual reports and accounts for these charities.

We explored how autism charities described autistic people, themselves and the government. We used critical autism studies – which seeks to question stereotypes, and views autism as a difference rather than a disorder – as an approach to evaluate and explain the reports, and suggest how things could be improved.

We found that autistic people are largely portrayed as problems, as challenging and as a burden. Autistic people are frequently depicted as being needy and infantile. Every single charity depicts autistic people as needing to change. Autistic people, they say, should be more communicative or resilient.

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Read more:
Why the autism jigsaw puzzle piece is such a problematic symbol

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We think that the use of this kind of language and imagery has negative consequences for wider societal attitudes towards autistic people. In contrast, in these documents, charities – who did not appear to be led by autistic people – represented themselves as experts, with the authority to act for and speak on behalf of autistic people.

This links to an overwhelming message in the reports that these charities need to be able to do more, to be bigger and often better-known, and that they need more funding to enable them to achieve this.

This seems to reflect the “non-disabled saviour” trope that has been found to be common in popular culture. This trope highlights the action, even heroism, of non-disabled people “saving” disabled people, rather than centring disabled people’s agency.

All these charities also describe themselves as being funded by government. Alongside this, however, government is primarily portrayed as a barrier to the effective provision of services for autistic people. Government funding and policy decisions are described as arbitrary and inconsistent. It suggests a government (at both local and national level) that is ineffective and unreliable.

What should change?

We hope our findings encourage autism charities to reflect on how they describe the people they exist to support. Words and imagery should convey the reality of autistic lives rather than leaning on outdated notions of pity or burden.

That starts with meaningful autistic representation at every level of charity leadership, including decision-making roles. Representation shouldn’t be tokenistic. It should shape how organisations operate and communicate.

Charities and governments also need to rethink the current system of service provision and funding, which often leaves charities overstretched and autistic people underserved.

Most of all, we hope our research helps to contribute to a society that recognises autistic people not as problems to be solved, but as people to be valued and understood on their own terms.

Helen Abnett has previously received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council.

Aimee Grant receives funding from the Wellcome Trust, MRC and ESRC.

Kathryn Williams receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council. She is also the research director for Autistic UK CIC, a non-profit Autistic-led organisation seeking to improve the representation and wellbeing of Autistic adults across the UK.

– ref. Autism charities can portray autistic people as helpless and a burden – our research shows why it matters – https://theconversation.com/autism-charities-can-portray-autistic-people-as-helpless-and-a-burden-our-research-shows-why-it-matters-267385

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Eoin Daly, Lecturer Above The Bar, School of Law, University of Galway

Ireland is set to have a new president in the form of Catherine Connolly, an independent leftwing TD for Galway, and former deputy speaker of the Dáil.

The presidential election campaign was a colourful and eccentric spectacle. Since the Irish president isn’t an executive office with power over policy, the campaign focused on obscure ethical scandals around the two candidates, Connolly and Fine Gael candidate Heather Humphreys.

At times, though, the debate strayed into various policy issues despite the president having no power over these. The candidates’ views on everything from housing, disability, military neutrality and even foxhunting came under scrutiny.

For many, the campaign will have seemed awkward and profoundly odd. Ireland went through the rigmarole of a national election but for something for which the political stakes are undeniably low. This, in turn, reflects certain anomalies of the Irish presidency as a political institution.

The president of Ireland, a role created by the 1937 constitution, is the only national office elected directly by the people. The president will, therefore, have a very significant democratic mandate, and will tend to be a popular figure.

But this mandate is not matched by very much power. A president must campaign for a mandate from the people, yet once in office, finds no real conduit, other than speech itself, through which to make good on that mandate.

Presidential powers

In a parliamentary democracy such as the UK or Ireland – where the executive government is formed from within the parliament – the head of state will tend to have quite modest constitutional functions. Even where the head of state is a president, they will tend to have powers quite similar to those of a hereditary monarch. They formally sign bills into law and perform certain other strictly ceremonial constitutional functions, while serving as a symbol of continuity, national unity and so on.

One of the advantages of having an elective head of state, however, is that it becomes politically feasible to grant them more extensive powers of the sort that would be difficult to envisage for a monarch.

What exactly these powers are varies across parliamentary republics such as Germany, Italy or Greece. While Ireland’s post-independence constitutions mirrored many basic features of the British parliamentary system, they had elements of novelty and innovation as well. The office of the president was one of these.

Indeed, if someone were to read the constitution with no context, it makes the president seem like a potentially key player in the political system.

In particular, the constitution seems to envisage the president being a sort of arbiter in the legislative process, particularly in the event of deadlock between the two houses – the Dáil and Seanad (senate). These powers arise, for example, in the event of disputes over what counts as a “money bill”, or reducing the time the senate has to consider bills during a public emergency. The president also has, in theory, a power to refer bills to referendum, where petitioned by a majority of the Senate and one-third of the Dáil.

However, this potentially important umpire role has never really materialised in practice, mostly because these powers seem to envisage situations of dispute between the two houses that have hardly ever arisen in practice. The senate has never really posed much of a barrier to government legislation coming from the Dáil, partly because the taoiseach gets to nominate almost one-fifth of its members. Governments therefore have an almost guaranteed majority in the upper as well as lower houses. Any notional role of umpire for the president becomes redundant in a legislative system so dominated by the government.

The president does also have the power to refer bills to the Supreme Court to test their constitutionality, a power that has been used 16 times. However, relatively few constitutional controversies have been resolved through this process. The more common route to resolving any doubts about potentially unconstitutional laws has been through via advice from the attorney general.

Beyond legislation, the president is theoretically a potential kingmaker in the process of government formation. Unlike the British monarch, the president cannot “invite” anybody to form a government. But they can refuse a taoiseach’s request to call a snap election, if the taoiseach has lost the confidence of the Dáil. But again, the role notionally envisaged for the president, as a kind of arbiter within the political system, never really materialised in practice, as an expectation emerged of presidents having a passive and ceremonial role.

With many of their formal powers becoming more or less redundant, a president who was campaigned for and received the people’s trust must fulfil that mandate by some other means. More recent presidents, especially Mary Robinson and the outgoing president, Michael D Higgins, have sought to express their democratic mandate more in the realm of symbolism than in the exercise of any hard power. Higgins controversially used the presidency to speak out in the range of topics, from housing and inequality, to the issues of neutrality and genocide on the international stage.

But the controversies of Higgins’ tenure neatly reflected the wider paradoxes of the Irish presidency. Many of the powers of the office – at least the discretionary powers where the president has some choice – are almost redundant. Its legitimacy and clout is expressed almost exclusively in the symbolic realm. Higgins gave voice to widely held concerns of injustice and inequality both in Ireland and globally – but it would be difficult to argue that this shifted the political needle leftwards in Ireland during his tenure. It is in that context that another relatively radical figure will assume office as president of Ireland.

Eoin Daly 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. Catherine Connolly and the paradoxes of the Irish presidency – https://theconversation.com/catherine-connolly-and-the-paradoxes-of-the-irish-presidency-268245

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Helen Abnett, Research Fellow, University of Hertfordshire

Autism charities are important organisations. They provide essential services for autistic people, influence policy decisions, and often speak on behalf of autistic people.

This means that how these charities write about autistic people may influence how society understands what it means to be autistic. The words and pictures that autism charities choose to use affect how autistic people are understood, perceived and cared for. This really matters, as autism is still often stigmatised.

Our recent study shows that the language and images large autism charities use mainly portray autistic people as a problem. In contrast, charities represent themselves as the solution to this problem.

In England and Wales, different kinds of charity organisation are crucial providers of public services. Charities are often seen by government as the best way to meet the needs of less-heard or underserved groups, including autistic people. Some receive specialist care and education services from autism charities.

These charities also influence policy discussions and decisions. Research conducted by autism charities is regularly mentioned in parliament. The NHS refers autistic people and their carers looking for support to both national and local charities.

Previous research has shown how certain types of charities (particularly large international development charities) describe the people they are seeking to support in developing country communities in negative and problematic ways. People are often portrayed as “passive”, “voiceless” and “(culturally) backward”.

Similarly, a small amount of research demonstrates that autism charity advertising and websites consistently convey negative portrayals of autistic people. For example, one previous study describes how an advert for a UK charity depicted autism as “a child-enveloping monster that had to be destroyed to allow a boy to live a normal life”.

How we conducted our research

For our study, we identified the largest autism charities in England and Wales. We used data held by the Charity Commission to identify charities with incomes of £10 million or more and that only provided support to autistic adults, children or both. There were 11 charities that met these criteria. Then, we downloaded the most recent annual reports and accounts for these charities.

We explored how autism charities described autistic people, themselves and the government. We used critical autism studies – which seeks to question stereotypes, and views autism as a difference rather than a disorder – as an approach to evaluate and explain the reports, and suggest how things could be improved.

We found that autistic people are largely portrayed as problems, as challenging and as a burden. Autistic people are frequently depicted as being needy and infantile. Every single charity depicts autistic people as needing to change. Autistic people, they say, should be more communicative or resilient.

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Read more:
Why the autism jigsaw puzzle piece is such a problematic symbol

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We think that the use of this kind of language and imagery has negative consequences for wider societal attitudes towards autistic people. In contrast, in these documents, charities – who did not appear to be led by autistic people – represented themselves as experts, with the authority to act for and speak on behalf of autistic people.

This links to an overwhelming message in the reports that these charities need to be able to do more, to be bigger and often better-known, and that they need more funding to enable them to achieve this.

This seems to reflect the “non-disabled saviour” trope that has been found to be common in popular culture. This trope highlights the action, even heroism, of non-disabled people “saving” disabled people, rather than centring disabled people’s agency.

All these charities also describe themselves as being funded by government. Alongside this, however, government is primarily portrayed as a barrier to the effective provision of services for autistic people. Government funding and policy decisions are described as arbitrary and inconsistent. It suggests a government (at both local and national level) that is ineffective and unreliable.

What should change?

We hope our findings encourage autism charities to reflect on how they describe the people they exist to support. Words and imagery should convey the reality of autistic lives rather than leaning on outdated notions of pity or burden.

That starts with meaningful autistic representation at every level of charity leadership, including decision-making roles. Representation shouldn’t be tokenistic. It should shape how organisations operate and communicate.

Charities and governments also need to rethink the current system of service provision and funding, which often leaves charities overstretched and autistic people underserved.

Most of all, we hope our research helps to contribute to a society that recognises autistic people not as problems to be solved, but as people to be valued and understood on their own terms.

Helen Abnett has previously received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council.

Aimee Grant receives funding from the Wellcome Trust, MRC and ESRC.

Kathryn Williams receives funding from the Economic and Social Research Council. She is also the research director for Autistic UK CIC, a non-profit Autistic-led organisation seeking to improve the representation and wellbeing of Autistic adults across the UK.

– ref. Autism charities portray autistic people as helpless and a burden – our research shows why it matters – https://theconversation.com/autism-charities-portray-autistic-people-as-helpless-and-a-burden-our-research-shows-why-it-matters-267385

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Aleh Cherp, Professor, Department of Environmental Sciences and Policy, Central European University

Just 1% of the world’s coastal waters could, in theory, generate enough offshore wind and solar power to provide a third of the world’s electricity by 2050. That’s the promise highlighted in a new study by a team of scientists in Singapore and China, who systematically mapped the global potential of renewables at sea.

But turning that potential into reality is another story. Scaling up offshore renewables fast enough to seriously dent global emissions faces formidable technical, economic and political hurdles.

To reach global climate targets, the world’s electricity systems must be fully decarbonised within a couple of decades if not sooner. Wind and solar power have grown at record-breaking rates, yet further expansion on land is increasingly constrained by a scarcity of good sites and conflicts over land use.

Moving renewables offshore is therefore tempting. The sea is vast, windy and sunny, with few residents around to object. The team behind the new study identified coastal areas with enough wind or sunlight, and water shallower than 200 metres, that are relatively ice-free and within 200 kilometres of population centres.

They estimate that using just 1% of these areas could generate over 6,000 terawatt hours (TWh) of offshore wind power and 14,000TWh of offshore solar power each year. Together that’s roughly one-third of the electricity the world is expected to use in 2050, while avoiding 9 billion tonnes of CO₂ annually.

That sounds impressive as 1% of suitable ocean seems small. Many European countries, such as Denmark, Germany, Belgium and the UK, already allocate between 7% and 16% of their coastal waters for offshore wind farms. Yet what matters for climate mitigation is not only how much low-carbon energy could eventually be produced, but how fast that could happen.

At present, offshore wind generates less than 200TWh per year, less than 1% of global electricity. By 2030, that might rise to around 900TWh. Hitting 6,000TWh by 2050 would require annual installations – each year, for two decades – to be about seven times larger than they were last year.

Offshore solar requires an even steeper climb. The technology is still experimental, producing only negligible amounts of electricity today.

Even if 15TWh a year (an equivalent of some 15GW capacity) can be generated by 2030, to reach the estimated potential of 14,000TWh by 2050 would require sustained annual growth of over 40% for two decades. Such a rate that has never been achieved for any energy technology, not even during the recent record-breaking growth of land solar.

Achieving techno-economic viability

Around 90% of existing offshore wind capacity is located in the shallow, sheltered waters of northwestern Europe and China, where most turbines are directly fixed to the seabed. Yet most of the untapped potential lies in deeper waters, where fixed foundations are impossible.

That means turning to floating turbines, a technology that currently accounts for just 0.3% of global offshore wind capacity. Floating wind power faces serious engineering challenges, from mooring and anchoring, to undersea cabling and maintenance in rougher seas.

It currently costs far more than fixed-bottom systems, and will need substantial subsidies for at least the next decade. Only if early projects prove successful and drive down costs could floating wind become commercially viable.

Offshore solar is even further behind. The International Energy Agency rates its technology readiness at only level three to five on an 11-point scale — barely beyond prototype stage. The new study refers to research saying offshore solar could become commercially viable in the Netherlands only around 2040-2050, by which time the world’s power system should already be largely decarbonised.

Overcoming growth barriers

Even when low-carbon technologies become commercially competitive, their growth rarely continues exponentially. Our own research shows manufacturing bottlenecks, logistics and grid integration eventually slow expansion. And these challenges are likely to be even tougher for offshore projects.

Social opposition and the need for permits can also slow progress. Moving wind and solar offshore avoids some land-use conflicts, but it does not eliminate them. Coastal space close to populated areas is already crowded with shipping, fishing, leisure and military activities.

In Europe, approval and construction of offshore wind farms can a decade or more. Permits are not guaranteed: Sweden recently rejected 13 proposed wind farms in the Baltic Sea due to national security concerns.

What is realistic?

Offshore renewables will undoubtedly play an important role in the global energy transition. Offshore wind, in particular, could become a major contributor by mid-century if its growth follows the same trajectory as onshore wind has since the early 2000s.

However, that would require floating turbines to quickly become competitive, and for political commitment to be secured in the Americas, Australia, Russia and other areas with lots of growth potential.

Offshore wind (green) is tracking the growth rate of onshore wind (orange):

Offshore solar, by contrast, would need to achieve viability and then grow at an unprecedented rate to reach the potential outlined in the new study. It may be promising for niche uses, but is unlikely to deliver large-scale climate benefits before 2050.

Its real contribution may come later in the century, when we will still need to expand low-carbon energy for industries, transport and heating once the initial decarbonisation of power generation is complete.

For now, the world’s best bet remains to accelerate onshore wind and solar power as well as proven offshore wind technologies, while preparing offshore solar and floating wind power options for the longer run.

Aleh Cherp receives funding from Swedish Foundation for Strategic Environmental Research (MISTRA) and Swedish Energy Agency.

Jessica Jewell receives funding from the European Union’s H2020 ERC Starting Grant programme under grant agreement no. 950408 project Mechanisms and Actors of Feasible Energy Transitions (MANIFEST), Mistra Environmental Research (MISTRA), and the Swedish Energy Agency.

Tsimafei Kazlou receives funding from the European Union’s H2020 ERC Starting Grant programme under grant agreement no. 950408 project Mechanisms and Actors of Feasible Energy Transitions (MANIFEST).

– ref. Just 1% of coastal waters could power a third of the world’s electricity – but can we do it in time? – https://theconversation.com/just-1-of-coastal-waters-could-power-a-third-of-the-worlds-electricity-but-can-we-do-it-in-time-268237

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Kate Spencer, Professor of Environmental Geochemistry, Queen Mary University of London

Think of ocean plastic and you may picture bottles and bags bobbing on the waves, slowly drifting out to sea. Yet the reality is more complex and far more persistent.

Even if we stopped all plastic pollution today, our new research shows that fragments of buoyant plastic would continue to pollute the ocean’s surface for more than a century. These fragments break down slowly, releasing microplastics that sink through the water column at a glacial pace. The result is a “natural conveyor belt” of pollution that links the surface to the deep sea.

Our new study set out to understand what happens to large pieces of floating plastic once they enter the ocean. We developed a computer model to simulate how these plastics degrade, fragment and interact with the sticky suspended particles known as “marine snow” which help transport matter to the seafloor.

Marine snow is the ocean’s natural snowfall: tiny, sticky flakes of dead plankton and other organic particles that clump together and slowly sink, carrying anything that sticks, like microplastics, down into the deep.

The new model builds on our previous work understanding the long-term fate of microplastics smaller than 1mm, which showed that plastics would only interact with suspended fine organic particles once they had broken down and reached a critical size threshold. But that simple one-dimensional model didn’t consider other physical processes, such as ocean currents.

By linking plastic degradation to ocean processes including marine snow settling, we have now provided a more complete picture of how small plastic particles move through the ocean system, and why some floating plastic appears to vanish from the surface.

The ‘missing plastic’ problem

When large plastics such as food wrappers or fragments of fishing gear reach the ocean, they can remain afloat for years, slowly battered by sunlight and waves and colonised by marine biofilm – microbial communities that live on the plastic surface.

Over time, they break into smaller and smaller pieces, eventually becoming small enough to attach to marine snow and sink. But this is a slow transformation. After 100 years, around 10% of the original material can still be found at the ocean’s surface.

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Read more:
We’re witnessing last-ditch talks to secure a global plastic pollution treaty

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As for the rest, scientists have long noticed a puzzling mismatch between the amount of plastic entering the ocean and the much smaller quantities found floating at the surface. Floating plastics must be removed from the ocean’s surface layer through degradation and sinking, but so far the numbers have not quite added up. Our findings help explain this “missing plastic” problem.

We are not the first scientists to report the sinking of microplastics. But by combining experimental work on how microplastics associate with fine suspended sediments, with our modelling of plastic degradation and marine snow settling processes, we provide realistic estimates of how microplastics are removed from the ocean surface which account for the missing plastic.

The ocean’s natural biological pump, often described as a conveyor belt, moves carbon and nutrients from the surface to the deep sea. Our research suggests this same process also moves plastics.

However, there is a potential cost. As global plastic production continues to rise, the biological pump could become overloaded. If too many microplastics attach to marine snow, they may interfere with how efficiently the ocean stores carbon – an effect that could have consequences for marine ecosystems and even climate regulation.

A conveyor belt for pollution

Microplastic pollution is not a short-term problem. Even if we achieved zero plastic waste today, the ocean’s surface would remain contaminated for decades.

To tackle the problem effectively, we need long-term thinking, not just beach or ocean cleanups. Policies need to address plastic production, use and disposal at every stage. Understanding how plastic moves through the ocean system is a crucial step towards that goal.

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Read more:
‘Everywhere we looked we found evidence’: the godfather of microplastics on 20 years of pollution research and the fight for global action

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Large, buoyant plastic items degrade over decades, shedding microplastics as they go. These tiny fragments may eventually sink to the ocean floor, but only after going through multiple cycles of attachment and release from marine snow, a process that can take generations.

This means plastics lost at sea decades ago are still breaking down today, creating a persistent source of new microplastics.

The ocean connects everything: what floats today will one day sink, fragment and reappear in new forms. Our task is to make sure that what we leave behind is less damaging than what we have already set adrift.

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Kate Spencer receives funding from NERC, Lloyd’s Register Foundation and EU Interreg IV programme Preventing Plastic Pollution

Nan Wu works for Queen Mary University of London and the British Antarctic Survey. Nan Wu receives funding from Lloyds Register Foundation, UK, Queen Mary University of London Principal Studentships, EU INTERREG France (Channel) England project ‘Preventing Plastic Pollution’ co-financed by the European Regional Development Fund’.

– ref. Scientists have puzzled over what happens to plastic as it breaks down in the ocean – our new study helps explain the mystery – https://theconversation.com/scientists-have-puzzled-over-what-happens-to-plastic-as-it-breaks-down-in-the-ocean-our-new-study-helps-explain-the-mystery-268305