Category: The Conversation – UK

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Dan Baumgardt, Senior Lecturer, School of Psychology and Neuroscience, University of Bristol

Ski season is well underway, and those in search of Alpine air and exhilaration will be taking to the slopes. But while skiing is a pastime many enjoy, it’s also fraught with injury.

These range considerably in their severity, from broken limbs and concussions to minor sprains and ACL injuries.

This isn’t to say you need to be fearful of skiing. But having an awareness of some of the common skiing injuries before you hit the slopes might help reduce the chances of one happening.

Skier’s thumb

This condition’s medical name is actually ulnar collateral ligament (UCL) injury – though skier’s thumb rolls off the tongue more easily. The UCL is a tiny little ligament with critical importance in stabilising the thumb, allowing it to create a strong grip, or pinch action. You find it at the base of the thumb where it joins the hand.

Skier’s thumb can occur when the thumb is wrenched backwards and outwards by the ski pole – causing the UCL to become overstretched, leading to strain, or even a tear. It can also happen if you fall on your outstretched hand.

You’ll probably notice pain and tenderness at the base of the thumb, near the web-space between thumb and index finger. It may also appear swollen or bruised.

Loss of function in the ligament will affect your ability to grip objects, so even simple actions such as holding a pen or turning a key in a lock become difficult. The thumb can feel altogether looser, sometimes unstable.

Depending on the severity of the damage, skier’s thumb can persist for a few weeks to months on end while the ligament heals.

To prevent skier’s thumb happening in the first place, correct use of ski poles is crucial. Namely, this involves keeping hands in a safe position, letting go of the poles if you fall and being wary of the attached straps which can also wrench the thumb. Good grip technique and well-fitting gloves can also help here.

Shin splints

I’ve noticed complaints of shin splints seem to hit my case list more frequently in the winter months as experienced and avid skiers return from their holidays.

Shin splints refer to pain felt at the front of the legs, during or after exercise. Skiing is just one of the causes. Running, dancing and other sports which involve leaping and jumping (such as basketball) can cause shin splints, too.

This injury is typically the result of repeated stress and overuse which damages the hard and soft tissues. Since you need to use the muscles in the calf and shin regions to control the skis, long days on the slopes can overload them – especially in beginners, or those with poor muscle conditioning.

They can also arise from poorly-fitted equipment – such as loose or tight-fitting boots that rub or stress the shin, especially if you’re spending a lot of time leaning backwards to stay upright. Aggressive skiing, particularly on hard packed snow, can also be an irritant.

Shin splints may also be a symptom of a bigger problem, including small stress reactions (in the shin bone), a build up of pressure in the tissues, or inflammation of the bone lining. But it’s often difficult to determine which of these is the underlying cause.

Should you start noticing shin splints, powering through them can make the problem worse. Instead ease off for the day – check your boots, find some softer snow to ski on, or stop altogether. Some gentle stretching at the ankle joint can also help.

Snow blindness

Even your eyes can be at risk of injury when skiing. The condition I’m referring to is photokeratitis – also know as “snow blindness” or “arc eye.”

This condition occurs when the cornea – the clear layer of the eye that covers the pupil and iris – becomes inflamed. The cornea has the important role of refracting and transmitting light to the retina. Arc eye is caused by exposure to ultraviolet (UV) light. Think of it as a sort of eye-related sunburn.

On the slopes, there’s very little cover and there can be lots of sun exposure. The snow also tends to reflect the sun’s light back at us. All of this UV exposure can result in a painful, watery eye – sometimes accompanied by a twitching eyelid. You may also have redness and difficulty looking at bright lights.

Since the condition can be really painful, you’ll need to cover your eye and see a doctor to confirm the diagnosis. They may prescribe some eye drops to help relax and lubricate the eye to reduce symptoms, and antibiotics to prevent infection. Simple pain relief (such as paracetamol), can also help. Luckily most cases resolve within one to two days.

Wearing UV-protective ski goggles, particularly those that are tinted and well-fitting, can also help prevent snow blindness.

---

Read more:
Polar penis: the hazards of winter sports

---

Tens of thousands of injuries are attributed to skiing each year. So to avoid getting hurt the next time you’re on the slopes, it’s key to invest in the correct kit and not move onto more difficult slopes until you’re comfortable and capable enough.

Most importantly, don’t ignore pain and attempt to get back onto the slopes for fear of missing out. And if you do suffer an injury of any kind, be sure to visit the ski resort’s medical team – they’re there for a reason.

Dan Baumgardt 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. Three common injuries skiers should watch out for this season – https://theconversation.com/three-common-injuries-skiers-should-watch-out-for-this-season-266732

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Stefan Wolff, Professor of International Security, University of Birmingham

Donald Trump and his senior officials have hailed Operation Absolute Resolve, the raid on Caracas and the capture and abduction of Venezuelan president, Nicolás Maduro, as an outstanding military success.

It’s also easy to argue it was a blatant and unashamed violation of international law. And it signals a further erosion of what is left of the rules-based international order.

The temptation for the White House now is to declare victory and quickly move on to other targets while the world is still stunned by the audacity of kidnapping a sitting foreign leader. The people and leaders of Cuba (long an obsession for Trump’s secretary of state, Marco Rubio), Colombia (the largest supplier of cocaine to the US) and Mexico (the key route through which fentanyl gets into the US) will be deeply worried about their future prospects in a Trumpian world.

As will Greenlanders, particularly in light of Trump’s comments over the weekend that the US “need[s] Greenland from the standpoint of national security”. Not to mention the ominous tweet by Maga influencer, Katie Miller – the wife of Trump’s influential deputy chief of staff, Stephen Miller – showing a map of Greenland in the colours of the US flag.

The US president certainly won’t be discouraged by the meek response from many European officials. This has been deeply disconcerting, signalling that many of the most ardent defenders of international law appear to have given up pretending it matters any more.

The EU’s foreign policy chief, Kaja Kallas, was first out of the block, with a post that started by pointing out Maduro’s lack of legitimacy as president and ended with an expression of concern for European citizens in Venezuela. She just about managed to squeeze in that “the principles of international law and the UN charter must be respected”. But this sounded like – and most likely was – an afterthought.

A subsequent joint statement by the EU26 (all member states except Hungary) was similarly equivocal and did not explicitly condemn Washington’s breach of international law.

The British prime minister, Keir Starmer, focused his statement on the fact that “the UK has long supported a transition of power in Venezuela”, that he “regarded Maduro as an illegitimate president” and would “shed no tears about the end of his regime”. Before closing with his desire for a “safe and peaceful transition to a legitimate government that reflects the will of the Venezuelan people”, the former human rights lawyer briefly reiterated his “support for international law”.

The German chancellor, Friedrich Merz, however, wins the prize for prevarication. As well as making almost identical comments about Maduro’s lack of legitimacy and the importance of a transition in Venezuela, he also noted that a legal assessment of the US operation is complicated and that Germany will “take its time” to do so.

The view from Moscow and Beijing

While there was a mixture of enthusiasm and worry across Latin America, the strongest condemnations came from Moscow and Beijing.

The Russian president, Vladimir Putin, had signalled his support for Maduro early on in the escalating crisis at the beginning of December. A statement by the Russian foreign ministry on January 3 initially merely offered support for efforts to resolve the crisis “through dialogue”. In subsequent press releases, Russia has taken a stronger line, demanding that Washington “release the legitimately elected president of a sovereign country and his spouse”.

China similarly expressed concern about the US operation as a “clear violation of international law”. A foreign ministry spokesman urged Washington to “ensure the personal safety of President Nicolás Maduro and his wife, release them at once, stop toppling the government of Venezuela, and resolve issues through dialogue and negotiation”.

Moscow’s position in particular is, of course, deeply ironic. To condemn the US operation as an “unacceptable violation of the sovereignty of an independent state” may be correct. But it is hardly credible in light of Moscow’s decade-long war against Ukraine that has involved the illegal occupation and annexation of nearly 20% of Ukraine’s territory.

China, on the other hand, can now have its cake and eat it in Taiwan, which, unlike Venezuela, is not widely recognised as a sovereign and independent state. With regime change back on the international agenda as a seemingly legitimate endeavour, little is left, from Beijing’s point of view, of the case against reunification – if necessary by force.

Trump’s actions against Venezuela may not have accelerated Chinese plans for forceful reunification, but they will have done little to deter them. The episode is likely to have emboldened more Chinese assertiveness in the South China Sea.

Carving up the world

All this points to a further gradual conversion of American, Chinese and Russian great power interests – to have their recognised spheres of influence in which they can do as they please. But while China and Russia may be unable to do much about their now-deposed ally Maduro, there is no obvious or straightforward way to delineate where one sphere of influence begins and another one ends.

The expectation of a carve up of the world between Washington, Moscow and Beijing also explains the lack of European outrage over Trump’s operation against Venezuela. It signals a European realisation that the days of the liberal international order are well and truly over. Europe is unlikely to take a futile stand that would only risk being abandoned by Trump and assigned to Putin’s sphere.

On the contrary, European leaders will do their utmost to gloss over differences with the US and try to capitalise on an almost throwaway remark by Trump at the end of his press conference on Saturday that he is “not thrilled” with Putin.

What matters for Europe now are no longer the niceties of international norms. It’s now a question of keeping the US and its mercurial president on side in the hope of being able to defend Ukraine and deter Russia from further aggression.

Such efforts to accommodate the US president are only going to work to some extent. Trump’s decision to restate his ambition to annex Greenland, whose vast critical mineral resources he covets, plays into his vision of absolute dominance in the western hemisphere.

This revival of the two century-old Monroe doctrine (recast by Trump at the weekend as the “Donroe doctrine”) was outlined in the new US national security strategy in December. It clearly does not end with regime change in Venezuela.

The strategy set out to “reestablish conditions of strategic stability across the Eurasian landmass” or “mitigate the risk of conflict between Russia and European states”. But further destabilising the transatlantic alliance by threatening the territorial integrity of Denmark over Greenland and possibly abandoning Europe and Ukraine to the Kremlin’s imperial designs are likely to have the opposite effect.

Likewise, if the Venezuela incursion further encourages Chinese territorial claims in the South China Sea and possibly a move on Taiwan, it will hardly achieve America’s aim, spelled out in the national security strategy, of preventing military confrontation with its most significant geopolitical rival.

Like other US regime change efforts since the end of the cold war, US action in Venezuela is likely a self-isolating and self-defeating move. It signals a return of law of the jungle for which the US, and much of the rest of the world, will ultimately pay a heavy price.

Stefan Wolff is a past recipient of grant funding from the Natural Environment Research Council of the UK, the United States Institute of Peace, the Economic and Social Research Council of the UK, the British Academy, the NATO Science for Peace Programme, the EU Framework Programmes 6 and 7 and Horizon 2020, as well as the EU’s Jean Monnet Programme. He is a Trustee and Honorary Treasurer of the Political Studies Association of the UK and a Senior Research Fellow at the Foreign Policy Centre in London.

– ref. Donald Trump’s raid on Venezuela foreshadows a new ‘great power’ carve-up of the world – https://theconversation.com/donald-trumps-raid-on-venezuela-foreshadows-a-new-great-power-carve-up-of-the-world-272661

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Samantha Garrard, Senior Marine Ecosystem Services Researcher, Plymouth Marine Laboratory

Tropical coral reefs cover less than 1% of the seafloor, yet support 25% of all marine species. They are also incredibly vulnerable. Over the past few decades, an estimated 30%-50% have already been lost.

Yet we are approaching a terrifying threshold. After record-breaking ocean heatwaves of 2023-24, which saw coral “bleaching” in at least 83 countries, scientists are looking towards 2026 with growing dread.

The question is whether this will be the year a global tipping point is reached for warm-water coral – a point beyond which their fate is sealed, and even the most resilient species can no longer recover.

The fate of these ecosystems may hinge on events in the Pacific Ocean, in particular a natural climate cycle called the El Niño–Southern Oscillation (ENSO). We have only just emerged from a devastating El Niño (the warm phase) that helped push 84% of the world’s coral reefs into “bleaching-level” heat stress.

Usually, reefs have a few years to “breathe” during the cooler La Niña phrase. However, as the planet warms El Niños are becoming stronger and more frequent, and the transition periods are becoming shorter and less cool.

With another El Niño expected in 2026, only a short time after the last one, many reefs will not have had sufficient time to recover. This next phase could trigger widespread coral reef collapse.

A point of no return?

The fear is that 2026 could mark a “tipping point”. These are moments when an ecosystem changes really suddenly, often in a way that can’t easily be undone.

However, these thresholds can be notoriously hard to spot as they happen. Every reef is different, and it can be hard to spot these permanent shifts amid short‑term shocks like heatwaves and extreme weather all while global temperatures are still climbing. This makes it harder to see the bigger picture of how the reef is actually doing over the long term.

Reaching a simultaneous global tipping point for all corals in 2026 is an unlikely worst-case scenario. But at a local level, many warm-water coral reefs are clearly set to fare badly. Some reefs have already passed the point of no return, and if extreme heatwaves occur across the tropics again so soon, the extent of loss over the next 12 months could be catastrophic.

What coral collapse looks like

When a reef passes that tipping point, the transformation can be stark.

It begins with bleaching, which happens when the surrounding sea becomes too hot. The stress causes the coral to expel the tiny colourful algae living inside its tissues, turning it white. The coral isn’t dead yet, but if high temperatures last too long, it can die.

Heat sensitive species are the most likely to disappear. And when corals die, they are quickly replaced by algae. Once that happens, it’s really hard for new coral larvae to settle and grow. The damage can last for a very long time, and the reef might never return to how it was before.

Another El Niño-induced mass bleaching isn’t a death sentence for all corals, of course, as how well they cope with heat stress varies across different ecoregions. Some species struggle when temperatures rise, while others have shown they can tolerate or adapt to warmer conditions. Coral in the Gulf of Aqaba (between Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula and Saudi Arabia) and Madagascar handled the record-breaking temperatures of 2023–24 surprisingly well, suggesting that some coral communities have some natural resistance to heat stress.

Reefs in deeper waters offshore might also be able to act as a “seed bank” for the future. These reefs, called mesophotic reefs and found about 30 to 50 metres underwater, get extra protection during heatwaves as they’re shielded by layers of cooler, heavier water. Because of this, deeper reefs might act as important “safe zones” where warm-water coral species have a better chance of surviving, at least into the near future.

Beyond the heat

Even though temperatures are expected to rise in 2026, corals are already more likely to bleach because of things like pollution, overfishing, and coastal development. The good news is that reducing these pressures can help reefs recover. Take the Mesoamerican Reef, for example, which extends nearly 700 miles along the coast of Mexico and Central America. Even though bleaching affected 40% of the reef in 2024, some parts improved because fish populations bounced back after better fisheries management.

Ocean acidification, caused by the sea absorbing more CO₂ from the atmosphere, makes it harder for corals to build their hard skeletons, which weakens them and slows their growth. This threatens even the deep, cold-water corals that don’t suffer from bleaching.

To help these biodiversity powerhouses survive the 21st century, we must do three things: aggressively cut carbon emissions to cool the water, reduce local stressors like pollution or overfishing, and incorporate selective breeding of heat-tolerant corals into restoration plans to improve resilience to heatwaves.

---

Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?

Get a weekly roundup in your inbox instead. Every Wednesday, The Conversation’s environment editor writes Imagine, a short email that goes a little deeper into just one climate issue. Join the 47,000+ readers who’ve subscribed so far.

---

Samantha Garrard receives funding from the United Kingdom Research and Innovation and from Horizon Europe, funding European research through the European Commission.

– ref. Will 2026 be the year when coral reefs pass their tipping point? – https://theconversation.com/will-2026-be-the-year-when-coral-reefs-pass-their-tipping-point-272462

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Daniel McNeil, Department of Social Policy, Sociology and Criminology Stuart Hall Interdisciplinary Chair, University of Birmingham

Arguments about diversity in Britain often get stuck on the surface. Instead of talking about who holds power or how resources are distributed, many politicians and culture warriors obsess over the colour of faces in adverts, media and public spaces.

Reform UK MP Sarah Pochin claimed that adverts “full of black people, full of Asian people” drove her “mad”, before apologising for the wording. Conservative MP Robert Jenrick depicted Handsworth in Birmingham as a slum where he “didn’t see another white face”. One reading of this comment is that it implies that the absence of white people signals disorder or decline.

In 2020, a Sainsbury’s Christmas advert featuring a black family sparked outrage online. Critics on social media declared that the country they recognised had vanished, that “too many” adverts now featured people who didn’t look like them.

Such controversies point to the heart of a dilemma currently facing Britain: a society wrestling with deep inequalities keeps picking fights about surface-level diversity.

A central problem is that multiculturalism is often confused with what might be called “multicolourism”. Multicolourism is cosmetic. It fixates on diverse racial representation in marketing materials, political campaigns or media imagery, and it masks racial disparities in wealth, housing and senior leadership positions.

Multiculturalism, by contrast, is hard work. It isn’t just about how Britain looks, but how it functions. It aims to build institutions, norms and everyday practices that enable different communities to disagree, collaborate and coexist while enjoying equal rights and opportunities. It is about the distribution of resources and civic respect, not counting the number of black or brown faces in an advert or campaign.

There is a long history of anxieties about black and Asian people holding space in British culture and politics. Such concerns about the racial diversity of British society are often conflated with debates about immigration and multiculturalism.

This can lead to problematic assumptions that all black and Asian people are migrants and that someone’s skin tone reveals their culture or values. For example, a Reform UK mayoral candidate has claimed that David Lammy and other ethnic minority politicians do not have a “primary loyalty” to Britain.

Surface-level diversity

While critics of multiculturalism have questioned the elevation of black and Asian people to prominent roles in British society, proponents of multicolourism have diverted attention away from the inequalities in British society.

The advertising sector is a helpful guide to the limitations of multicolourism. In a sign of progress, the Advertising Standards Authority now urges agencies to prioritise the quality of portrayals rather than numerical ratios – an acknowledgement that representation must go beyond tokenism. But research shows that, while agencies showcase diverse imagery in their campaigns, leadership and creative control remain overwhelmingly white.

In 2021, the Green Park Business Leaders Index found no black chairs, CEOs or CFOs in the FTSE 100. The 2024 Parker Review found little change, with no more than two black chairs, CEOs or CFOs in the FTSE 100. It also reported that approximately 13% of senior management positions at the top 100 firms in 2023 were held by people labelled “ethnic minorities” – notably lower than the 18% of people identified as non-white in the 2021 census.

Wealth inequality is even more stark. Research from the LSE’s Centre for Analysis of Social Exclusion shows that the median Bangladeshi, black African and black Caribbean households have negligible net wealth. This means their total liabilities are roughly equal to or exceed than the total value of their assets.

By comparison, the median white British household has a net worth of £140,000. These disparities shape everything about life prospects: where people can live, the stability they can build and the risks they can take.

How Britain lost its nerve on multiculturalism

Not long ago, Britain seemed to be moving toward a confident multicultural future. Postwar migration remade the country, and landmark equality laws in the 1960s and 70s helped dismantle the legal structures of discrimination. By 2000, the Commission on the Future of Multi Ethnic Britain laid out a serious vision for equal citizenship and plural identities.

But over the past decade and a half, that political confidence has crumbled. The Sewell Commission’s 2021 claim that Britain is not “institutionally racist” further shifted public debate away from reforms that would tackle structural inequality.

Some argue that the elevation of minority ethnic individuals to high-level positions is evidence that British institutions are not racist. This, too, is multicolourism. There is often reluctance to ask: have they achieved prominence despite, or because of, institutional racism?

Britain has ended up in an odd situation: public and private institutions proudly celebrate how diverse their organisations and campaigns look, while leadership structures have not shifted quickly enough.

We cheer the spectacle of footballers taking the knee, but are at risk of losing a generation of coaches and managers from a black, Asian or mixed heritage background. We elect politicians who celebrate their immigrant heritage, but who also support policies that make life harsher for ethnic minorities and migrants. The country wants the appearance of inclusion more than the responsibilities that come with it.

Rows about who appears on a poster or in a Christmas advert are keeping Britain stuck on a path of multicolourism. These debates are noisy, emotionally charged and ultimately hollow.

The other path demands more of us. It asks us to examine why wealth gaps persist, why senior leadership remains so homogeneous and why some communities face structural barriers while others enjoy structural advantages. It is the path of real and principled multiculturalism – an honest attempt to build a society where the rules are fair, the opportunities real and the institutions trustworthy.

It is slower. It is harder. It cannot be captured in a photo. But it is the only route that leads to a Britain confident enough not to fear its own reflection.

Daniel McNeil 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. Focusing on surface-level diversity is stopping Britain from becoming truly multicultural – https://theconversation.com/focusing-on-surface-level-diversity-is-stopping-britain-from-becoming-truly-multicultural-268013

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lila Maladesky, PhD candidate in Biology, Lund University

Humans like plants. We like seeing them change the colour of their leaves throughout the year. They connect us to nature even if we live in a big city. But most people don’t think that much about the lives of plants, and least of all, about their sex life.

Because plants don’t move around much, it is common to think they lead boring lives. But today I want to convince you that they can be more interesting than you give them credit for. And for that, I will focus on people’s usual favourite plants: the ones that flower.

---

Many people think of plants as nice-looking greens. Essential for clean air, yes, but simple organisms. A step change in research is shaking up the way scientists think about plants: they are far more complex and more like us than you might imagine. This blossoming field of science is too delightful to do it justice in one or two stories.
This article is part of a series, Plant Curious, exploring scientific studies that challenge the way you view plantlife.

---

About 90% of flowering plants are hermaphroditic, which means that their flowers have both male and female function. This is what we call perfect flowers. Take the tomato for example. If you open one of its flowers, you will see it has an ovary (part of the female organ) and anthers with pollen (part of the male organ).

In tomatoes, pollen from a flower can pollinate the ovary of the same flower. This means that a tomato plant doesn’t need another tomato nearby to reproduce. Pretty convenient, especially if there are not many other plants of your species around.

However, this is not the case for all hermaphroditic plants. Some of them can’t self-pollinate, like apples. In those species you do need two individual plants to produce fruit.

Things get more complicated. Scientists think that the first flowering plant to appear on earth was probably hermaphroditic. But what about this other 10% that are not hermaphroditic? What are they and where do they come from?

Let’s dive in.

The alternative to perfect flowers is unisexual flowers, which have either an ovary or anthers with pollen. In some species, male flowers and female flowers grow from the same individual. This is what we call monoecious plants. The plant has both male and female functions but separated in different flowers. Often, these flowers appear at different times of the year, which doesn’t allow the plant to pollinate itself.

There is another alternative to this, which is the total separation of sexes in different individual plants. Willows are one example. In this species, one willow tree will have only male flowers or just female flowers. So, a willow tree can be male or female, more like we are used to in animals like mammals or birds.

This separation of sexes in plants is called dioecy. One reason why dioecy may evolve is because of the negative effects that self-pollination can bring. It’s similar to how humans reproducing with relatives can give their offspring a higher chance of diseases.

But that’s not all. A small proportion of unisexual plants have systems that seem to be in between hermaphroditism and dioecy. The system is called androdioecy when you can find hermaphroditic individuals and males within one population. An example of this is a herb native to California, US, called the Durango root. This system is rare in nature.

The alternative system is called gynodioecy, and it is the other way around. It is a system where females coexist with hermaphrodites. This happens in some wild strawberries.

Lastly, in some cases, male and females have been found alongside hermaphrodites. Some researchers call this trioecy (three sexes). And for this one, one example is the tasty papaya.

Exploring evolution

I mentioned earlier that hermaphroditism is probably the original sex determination system in flowering plants. So how did the other systems evolve from it?

In plants, as in many animals, sex is mostly determined by genes. This means that a seed will become a male or female plant depending on what their DNA says. Studying genetics has never been easy. But it has become easier over the last few decades, with technologies that allow us to study the genes in more detail.

Before this technological revolution, most studies were done in what we call model organisms, like mice, flies and some specific plants like thale cress (Arabidopsis thaliana). But now, studying other organisms is becoming increasingly easy. This has allowed scientists to see that in nature there is a lot of variation in sex determination. If we take dioecy as an example, scientists found examples of this system in groups of plants that are not closely related. This means that dioecy has evolved several times. And this is true for the other systems as well.

Gynodioecy, androdioecy and monoecy seem to be a link between hermaphroditism and dioecy. This means that systems can potentially go back and forth, from hermaphroditism to dioecy. And in fact, cases of changes in both directions have been found.

But what about the genes that determine these mechanisms? Scientists have found a variety of genes involved in different species. So, it turns out, there are many ways to evolve a male organism.

This variation in sex determination systems is why studying this topic in plants is interesting. In animals, many big groups, like insects, are dioecious, and they have been for millions of years. This makes it harder to study how dioecy evolved in the first place.

Flowering plants tell us a story about continuous change. The different sex determining systems are connected. If a species evolves separate sexes, hermaphroditism can still reappear in the future. But which is the best system? In nature, there is never one correct answer. It depends on the environment where the plants live and the challenges they have to face.

Lila Maladesky’s PhD project is funded by the European Research Council

– ref. Plant sex life is more complicated than you probably imagine – https://theconversation.com/plant-sex-life-is-more-complicated-than-you-probably-imagine-269229

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Karol Mullaney Dignam, Associate Professor, School of History and Geography, University of Limerick

Long before meteorology and climate science, Irish people looked to the natural world to forecast the weather and make sense of their surroundings. They read the skies, the seas and the behaviour of animals for signs of change: a halo around the moon meant rain was near; swallows flying low foretold a storm.

This weather lore – known as seanchas i dtaobh na haimsire in Irish – was grounded in generations of observation and shared through memorable sayings or rhymes. One familiar example is: “Red sky at night is a shepherd’s delight; red sky in the morning is a shepherd’s warning.” But weather lore is more than folklore. It is evidence of a society attuned to subtle environmental cues – what researchers now call traditional ecological or environmental knowledge.

Weather lore forms part of Ireland’s cultural heritage (dúchas) preserved in the National Folklore Collection, one of western Europe’s largest archives of oral tradition. Established in the 1930s and now digitised, it encompasses several compilations, including the Main Manuscript Collection of field-recorded folklore and the Schools’ Collection, gathered by schoolchildren from older generations. Together, these hold millions of pages of stories, customs and beliefs, among them thousands of weather sayings in both Irish and English.

Across the archive, weather lore highlights natural indicators – moon halos, sun colour, wind direction, animal behaviour – as clues to coming weather changes. Farmers timed sowing and harvesting, fishermen watched the skies before setting out to sea. Without barometers or technologically enhanced forecasts, people relied on sensory cues in the environment – shifts in colour, movement, sound, even smell. These observations were based on practical knowledge, honed over generations and patterns repeated nationwide.

Many stories of Irish weather lore have modern scientific explanations while others reflect superstition or coincidence.

Birds and animals: Cats turning their backs to the fire signalled a storm; dogs eating grass suggested rain. Swallows flying high meant fine weather, while low flight warned of rain. Seagulls coming inland foretold storm or rain. Foxes barking at night were said to herald dry weather.

Celestial clues: A “ring” around the moon was a classic sign of rain. Sunsets mattered too – red skies promised fair conditions, while coppery or yellow hues foretold rain. Twinkling stars were linked to frost or wind; shooting stars denoted dry weather (in Irish) or wind (in English). The Northern Lights were often interpreted as omens beyond weather, such as impending war.

House and hearth: The direction and behaviour of chimney smoke was also related to weather prediction. When smoke rose straight up, it signalled fine weather, but when it drifted downward or failed to ascend, rain or storm was expected. Blue flames in the fireplace meant storm or frost; falling soot signalled rain; damp hearthstones and cracking furniture were also read as warnings of unsettled weather to come.

Landscape and sound: Hills appearing “near” suggested rain, while seeming distant meant clear skies. Even sound carried meaning: when the rumble of a train or the roar of a waterfall sounded close, bad weather was expected; when distant, good weather was on the way.

Weather lore and cultural heritage

Weather shapes how we experience place, identity and memory. Weather lore carries cultural weight, being woven into everyday conversation, proverbs and poems and passed down through storytelling.

Verses helped people remember patterns. An Irish folklore variant of a familiar rhyme appears in both the Irish and English languages: “A rainbow at night is the farmer’s delight; a rainbow in the morning is the farmer’s warning.”

These rhymes also acted as calendars, helping communities anticipate seasonal changes. For example:

January brings the snow

Makes us oft our fingers blow

February brings the rain

And thaws the frozen lakes again

These sayings reinforced continuity and belonging, with evident regional differences. In the west, Irish-language sources mention marine indicators – sea colour, foam currents, seals (known as mucaí mara, sea pigs) – and use vivid metaphors like the “moon lying on its back” or “clouds like Kerry mountains”. Off-shore island communities noted tides and coastal sounds.

In contrast, English-language sources from the mainland emphasise agriculture: soil moisture, crop cycles and harvest lore. Farmers watched trees and hedgerow plants – haws and sloes – for seasonal predictions: “Ash before oak, there’s sure to be a soak; oak before ash, there’s sure to be a splash.” “March dust” was like gold because dry conditions early in spring were believed to promise a bountiful harvest.

Irish folklore has long been studied for its historical depth, linguistic richness and cultural significance. Recent studies explore how this lore connects to heritage and environmental awareness. Interpreted today, weather lore is more than folklore. Researchers are now beginning to frame this as “weather heritage”.

In an era of climate uncertainty, Irish weather lore points to something we risk losing: the habit of paying attention to what nature is telling us.

---

The climate crisis has a communications problem. How do we tell stories that move people – not just to fear the future, but to imagine and build a better one? This article is part of Climate Storytelling, a series exploring how arts and science can join forces to spark understanding, hope and action.

---

Karol Mullaney-Dignam has previously received external, government funding from the Irish Research Council (formerly IRCHSS, now Research Ireland) in relation to her research on musical culture and Irish country houses (Postdoctoral Research Fellowship, 2010-12, New Foundations Grant, 2016). She has also been funded around the same topic via a Royal Irish Academy Charlemont Award (2015). Additionally, she has worked as a project specific consultant and received project specific funding from the Irish Office of Public Works around the same topic.

– ref. Reading the sky: how Irish weather lore preserved a deep understanding of the natural world – https://theconversation.com/reading-the-sky-how-irish-weather-lore-preserved-a-deep-understanding-of-the-natural-world-271268

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Karl Matikonis, Assistant Professor, University College Dublin

Lithuania is entering 2026 with a tax shift that brings its system closer to countries like Ireland and the UK. From January 1, the long-standing flat 15% personal income-tax rate for self-employed people is being abolished for higher earners. These workers will now be integrated into the same new progressive bands that apply to employment income.

On the surface, it’s a technical adjustment. But politically, economically and symbolically it captures a moment in Europe’s history. That is to say, higher defence spending, shrinking fiscal space, EU rules that tie funding to progress on reforms and a public mood swinging towards the idea of “fairness”.

That’s why this small Baltic reform is being watched far beyond Lithuania’s capital Vilnius.

Security is now a direct fiscal driver. Lithuania, positioned on Nato’s eastern frontier, has tied parts of its tax package to defence funding. A new 10% security contribution on insurance premiums (excluding life insurance) makes that link explicit.

As budgets tighten, ageing populations, higher borrowing costs and the legacy of COVID spending leave governments with far less room to maintain tax preferences, especially those that create visible distributional gaps.

This is not only an EU dynamic. The UK’s recent budget, which pushes the overall tax burden to its highest level in decades, reflects similar constraints in the financial picture.

EU funding conditions are also prompting reform. Lithuania’s disbursements under its €3.8 billion (£3.32 billion) plan are linked to progress on income tax, property-tax changes and digital administration. The 2026 package addresses several of these milestones.

In other words, Lithuania didn’t just change taxes. It read the room.

The reasons for the generous regime

For nearly three decades, lightening the load for freelancers made sense. As my new research shows, Lithuania emerged from the Soviet system with limited administrative capacity. Most citizens had never filed a tax return, and the state needed to grow a private sector rapidly.

Flat, low-tax self-employment acted as a tool to build markets, encourage people to move out of the informal, cash-only economy and secure quasi-voluntary compliance in a state still developing its enforcement capacity.

But that era is over. Lithuania now operates one of the EU’s more digitised tax administrations. Returns are largely pre-populated, third-party reporting is extensive and the country’s tax inspectorate uses real-time and automated risk analysis. Under these conditions, the original administrative justification for maintaining a separate and significantly more generous freelancer regime has weakened.

In June 2025, Lithuania’s Seimas (parliament) approved a fiscal package to come into force on January 1 2026. The core principle is alignment: employees and the self-employed with comparable earnings now face broadly similar and more progressive income tax rates.

Until the end of 2025, freelancers paid a flat 15% income tax. But now this is replaced by a progressive regime of 20%, 25% and 32%. Lower-income sole traders are protected by a structured tax credit on the first €20,000 of income, which tapers out up to €42,500.

Above the taper threshold, employment and self-employment income will now be subject to the same income tax bands.

Several other measures are taking effect, including corporation tax increases from 16% to 17%; rising real estate tax; a new excise duty on sugary drinks and the 10% “national defence contribution” applied to non-life insurance premiums.

As the figure below (which is based on my analysis) shows, the reform narrows though does not eliminate the gap between freelancers and employees. But symbolically and structurally, it marks a clear shift.

Lithuania is confronting a challenge faced by many European states. Countries with sizeable gaps between the taxation of employees and the self-employed, including Italy, the Netherlands and Czech Republic, are grappling with the same pressures: rising defence budgets, tighter EU fiscal governance and labour markets where workers move easily between employment, contracting and the gig economy.

In these settings, systems designed in the 1990s no longer reflect how income is generated. Lithuania’s reform is one of the clearest recent examples of a broader shift towards taxing different forms of income in a more similar way.

There is also a subtler change under way. For many years, Lithuania’s flat freelancer tax was justified as a means of supporting entrepreneurship. Today, the public conversation has shifted. With digital administration lowering compliance barriers, fairness is increasingly defined as parity rather than privilege. Compliance tends to rise when taxpayers believe the system treats comparable earners even-handedly.

And in 2026’s security climate, linking part of the reform to defence spending has turned taxation into something closer to civic participation.

Lithuania’s reform is not radical; it is normalisation. But the direction of this change indicates where many European systems are heading: towards higher defence expenditure, closer EU fiscal oversight and tax structures that tolerate fewer discrepancies between different forms of work.

In that sense, this small Baltic state may simply have moved early, partly because of its geopolitical position. But others are likely to follow.

Karl Matikonis previously received funding from the Economic and Social Research Council for unrelated research.

– ref. A sign of Europe’s troubled times? Lithuania brings in tax reforms to boost defence spending – https://theconversation.com/a-sign-of-europes-troubled-times-lithuania-brings-in-tax-reforms-to-boost-defence-spending-271275

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Adriana Marin, Lecturer in International Relations, Coventry University

The US dramatically escalated its confrontation with Venezuela on January 3, moving from sanctions and targeted strikes on alleged drug-trafficking vessels to direct military action. In a pre-dawn operation, US forces captured the Venezuelan president, Nicolás Maduro, and his wife, Cilia Flores, and removed them from the country.

The operation has prompted historical comparisons with the US invasion of Panama in late 1989. Although separated by more than three decades and unfolding in different international contexts, the two episodes reveal a continuity in how the US approaches intervention, sovereignty and legality in the western hemisphere.

The US invasion of Panama was justified at the time through a now-familiar set of claims. US officials argued they were protecting American citizens, restoring democracy following contested elections, combating drug trafficking and upholding treaty obligations linked to the Panama canal.

However, none of these arguments provided a solid legal basis for the use of force under the UN charter. Panama had not attacked the US, there was no imminent armed threat and the operation was not authorised by the UN security council. The invasion prompted international condemnation and was denounced by the UN general assembly as a violation of international law.

Yet concern over the legality of the operation mattered far less to the US than its political outcome. The Panamanian leader, Manuel Noriega, was removed from power and transferred to the US where he was tried on criminal charges. The US achieved its strategic objectives quickly and international condemnation produced no lasting consequences.

Panama thus established a powerful precedent: a smaller state could be reshaped forcibly without multilateral approval, provided the intervention was framed persuasively and executed decisively.

Central to that framing was what I call the criminalisation of sovereignty. Noriega was portrayed by US politicians not simply as an authoritarian ruler, but as a criminal figure. This mattered because it blurred the line between war and law enforcement, enabling regime change to be recast simply as an arrest.

Panama’s sovereignty, in turn, appeared less like a legal right and more like a shield open to abuse by criminals. While legal issues remained, the framing reduced political resistance, particularly within the US. This logic has reemerged in US discourse surrounding Venezuela.

Venezuela’s authorities have long been portrayed by Washington as criminal, corrupt and illegitimate. The US has designated drug networks linked to Venezuela, such as the so-called Cartel de los Soles, as terrorist organisations. It has also issued indictments against Maduro and other government officials on narco-terrorism and drug-trafficking charges.

As was the case in Panama, this framing shifts the debate away from inter-state relations and towards enforcement against individuals. This weakens the perceived legitimacy of Venezuelan sovereignty and helps normalise coercive external action.

It may also hint at Maduro’s eventual fate. The US state department did not recognise Noriega as Panama’s head of state, which made his later prosecution easier because it was argued he was not entitled to immunity.

Maduro, in a similar way, has been described by the state department as the “de facto but illegitimate ruler of Venezuela”. This purported lack of democratic legitimacy could mean the two men ultimately face a similar outcome in court.

Democracy plays a rhetorical role in both cases. The invasion of Panama was presented as a response to cancelled elections and democratic breakdown. In Venezuela, claims of democratic illegitimacy, contested elections and authoritarian governance have been also used to justify sustained external pressure and, now, direct intervention.

In neither case does democracy function as a legal basis for the use of force. International law does not permit military action to restore or impose democracy, nor does it allow states to determine the legitimacy of other governments unilaterally. Democracy in these contexts operates as a moral narrative rather than a lawful justification.

Pattern of intervention

There are, of course, differences between the two cases. The operation in Panama saw tens of thousands of US troops deployed on the ground. The US intervention in Venezuela was more targeted, relying on a mix of economic sanctions, diplomatic isolation and the selective use of force.

But rather than signalling a transformation in strategic intent, this reflects changes in military technology, media scrutiny and political risk.

Unlike in 1989, modern interventions unfold under real-time global media coverage and social media scrutiny, sharply increasing reputational costs. Greater domestic sensitivity to foreign entanglements also raises the political risk of overt military action.

However, notwithstanding these changes, the objective in both cases remains the same: rapid political disruption designed to weaken or remove an unfriendly regime while avoiding the costs of prolonged occupation.

The international environment has also changed. Panama took place at the end of the cold war, when US dominance in the western hemisphere was largely uncontested. Venezuela unfolds in a more fragmented global order, where regional and global players are more willing to challenge US actions.

Yet this difference cuts both ways. While global opposition may be louder, the enforcement capacity of international law remains limited. As Panama demonstrated, condemnation without consequence does little to deter future interventions.

What ultimately unites the two cases is the principle of selective sovereignty. In both Panama and Venezuela, sovereignty has been treated not as a universal legal protection but as a conditional status. States governed by leaders that have been labelled as criminal, illegitimate or destabilising are seen as having forfeited their rights.

This is not how sovereignty functions in international law, but it is how power often operates in practice. Each time this logic is applied, it weakens the credibility of the rules-based international order and reinforces the idea that legality bends to strength.

Panama’s significance lies precisely in this normalisation, showing that intervention could succeed politically even when it failed legally. Venezuela suggests that this lesson has not only been learned, but refined. Where Panama involved overt illegality, Venezuela reflects a more diffused form of coercion, spread across legal, economic and military domains.

Recent events in Venezuela thus do not represent a dramatic break from past practice. They represent continuity. Panama was not an aberration of the late cold war but a formative moment in post-war US interventionism. Venezuela is its modern-day echo.

The language has evolved and the methods have adapted, but the underlying assumption remains stable: that when powerful states deem it necessary, sovereignty can be suspended, legality reinterpreted and intervention justified after the fact.

That is the real significance of the comparison. Panama then and Venezuela now show a durable pattern in how intervention is imagined, defended and repeated.

Adriana Marin 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 US intervention in Venezuela mirrors its actions in Panama in 1989 – https://theconversation.com/how-us-intervention-in-venezuela-mirrors-its-actions-in-panama-in-1989-272659

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Steve Parissien, Lecturer in Architectural History, University of Oxford

As a cultural historian who has worked with and lectured on the drinks industry for many years I was asked to write a book about post-war Britain and the drinks that made it. I immediately knew I had to include Babycham – a post-austerity tipple that had made Britain smile.

Britain in the early 1950s was gradually emerging from the shadow of war and was dealing with bankruptcy and post-war shortages. By the time of Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation in 1953, British manufacturing was getting back on its feet.

In that year, a little-known Somerset brewery, Showerings, hit upon a novel idea: offer cash-strapped Britons sick of the grey years of austerity a festive, sparkling alcoholic tipple that was cheap but fun. Thus was born Babycham, the celebratory drink that looked like champagne, but wasn’t.

I have distinct memories of my mum drinking the sparkling beverage in the 1960s, sometimes with brandy as a cheap, working-class alternative to the classic champagne cocktail. And who can forget those wonderful, deer-themed champagne coupes which Babycham distributed, and which are now collectors’ items.

As I write in my book Another Round, it was originally named “Champagne de la Poire” by its creators, Francis and Herbert Showering of Shepton Mallet in Somerset. Babycham was a new alcoholic perry – a cider made from pears. It had the modest strength of 6% alcohol-by-volume and came in both full-sized bottles and fashionable, handbag-sized four- and two-ounce versions.

At sixpence a bottle, Babycham’s bubbles come at a fraction of the price of genuine French bubbly – a luxury that very few could afford. Babycham came to epitomise the brave new world of mid-1950s Britain – British ingenuity still seemed to lead the world, and anything seemed possible.

Marketing with fizz

Babycham’s innovative brand design, marketing methods and advertising techniques brought flashy and flamboyant American techniques to the staid world of British beverages as its makers exploited not just the expanding potential of magazines and radio but, crucially, the revolutionary medium of television advertising. Perhaps most importantly, it was also the first British alcoholic drink to be aimed squarely at women.

Showerings and their advertising guru Jack Wynne-Williams made Babycham into the first British consumable to be introduced through advertising and marketing, rather than marketing an existing product. Their eye-catching new baby deer logo featured in the ad campaign of autumn 1953 and has been with us ever since. And it was equally prominent when their groundbreaking debut TV ad in 1956 made Babycham the first alcoholic brand to be advertised on British television.

In order to convey the idea that Babycham provided a champagne lifestyle at a beer price, Showerings advised their (largely female) customers that it was best served in an attractive and undeniably feminine French champagne coupe. Coupes were soon being customised by Showerings, who plastered them with the brand’s distinctive new deer logo and thereby created an instant kitsch collectable. In this way, Babycham offered the aspirational female Briton of the 50s and 60s a fleeting illusion of glamour and sophistication at the price of an average pub tipple.

All of this Americanised marketing paid handsome dividends. Babycham’s sales tripled between 1962 and 1971. These bumper sales enabled the Showerings to be acquired by drinks leviathan Allied Breweries in 1968, and after the merger Francis Showering was appointed as a director of the new company.

It was only in the early 1980s that Babycham’s sales began first to fall, and then to plummet. During this decade the drinks market was becoming more sophisticated and diverse. Women were turning more to wine and cocktails than to retro tipples made from sparkling pear juice.

However, after a period in the doldrums, the Babycham brand is back. In 2016, a younger generation of Showerings bought back the family’s original cider mill in Shepton Mallet and sought to revive their famous sparkling perry, relaunching Babycham in 2021.

If it is remembered at all, it’s now associated with celebrations such as birthdays or Christmas. No longer seen as a regular indulgence. The Babycham brand and its winsome fawn logo do seem rather old-fashioned today but in an age of nostalgia for the Britain of the past it could be ripe for a renaissance.

---

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

---

Steve Parissien 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 rise and fall of Babycham – the sparkling pear drink that sold the champagne lifestyle at a small price – https://theconversation.com/the-rise-and-fall-of-babycham-the-sparkling-pear-drink-that-sold-the-champagne-lifestyle-at-a-small-price-271347

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Saroash Shahid, Reader in Dental Materials, Queen Mary University of London

Ancient Egyptians and Etruscans pioneered orthodontics, using delicate gold wires and catgut to straighten teeth. It’s a tale that has appeared in dentistry textbooks for decades, portraying our ancestors as surprisingly modern in their pursuit of the perfect smile. But when archaeologists and dental historians finally scrutinised the evidence, they discovered that most of it is myth.

Take the El-Quatta dental bridge from Egypt, dating to around 2500BC. The gold wire found with ancient remains wasn’t doing what we thought at all. Rather than pulling teeth into alignment, these wires were stabilising loose teeth or holding replacement ones in place. In other words, they were functioning as prostheses, not braces.

The gold bands discovered in Etruscan tombs tell a similar story. They were probably dental splints designed to support teeth loosened by gum disease or injury, not devices for moving teeth into new positions.

There are some rather compelling practical reasons why these ancient devices couldn’t have worked as braces anyway. Tests on Etruscan appliances revealed the gold used was 97% pure, and pure gold is remarkably soft.

It bends and stretches easily without breaking, which makes it useless for orthodontics. Braces work by applying continuous pressure over long periods, requiring metal that’s strong and springy. Pure gold simply can’t manage that. Try to tighten it enough to straighten a tooth and it will deform or snap.

Then there’s the curious matter of who was wearing these gold bands. Many were found with the skeletons of women, suggesting they might have been status symbols or decorative jewellery rather than medical devices. Tellingly, none were discovered in the mouths of children or teenagers – exactly where you’d expect to find them if they were genuine orthodontic appliances.

But perhaps the most fascinating revelation is this: ancient people didn’t have the same dental problems we face today.

Malocclusion – the crowding and misalignment of teeth that’s so common now – was extremely rare in the past. Studies of Stone Age skulls show almost no crowding. The difference is down to diet.

Our ancestors ate tough, fibrous foods that required serious chewing. All that jaw work developed strong, large jaws perfectly capable of accommodating all their teeth.

Modern diets, by contrast, are soft and processed, giving our jaws little exercise. The result? Our jaws are often smaller than those of our ancestors, while our teeth remain the same size, leading to the crowding we see today.

Since crooked teeth were virtually non-existent in antiquity, there was hardly any reason to develop methods for straightening them.

That said, ancient people did occasionally attempt simple interventions for dental irregularities. The Romans provide one of the earliest reliable references to actual orthodontic treatment.

Aulus Cornelius Celsus, a Roman medical writer in the first century AD, noted that if a child’s tooth came in crooked, they should gently push it into place with a finger every day until it shifted to the correct position. Although basic, this method is built on the same principle we use today – gentle, continuous pressure can move a tooth.

After the Roman era, little progress occurred for centuries. By the 18th century, however, interest in straightening teeth had revived, albeit through some rather agonising methods.

Those without access to modern dental tools resorted to wooden “swelling wedges” to create space between overcrowded teeth. A small wedge of wood was inserted between teeth. As saliva was absorbed, the wood expanded, forcing the teeth apart. Crude and excruciating, perhaps, but it represented a step towards understanding that teeth could be repositioned through pressure.

Scientific orthodontics

Real scientific orthodontics began with French dentist Pierre Fauchard’s work in 1728. Often called the father of modern dentistry, Fauchard published a landmark two-volume book, The Surgeon Dentist, containing the first detailed description of treating malocclusions.

He developed the “bandeau” – a curved metal strip wrapped around teeth to widen the dental arch. This was the first tool specifically designed to move teeth using controlled force.

Fauchard also described using threads to support teeth after repositioning. His work marked the crucial shift from ancient myths and painful experiments to a scientific approach that eventually led to modern braces and clear aligners.

With advances in dentistry during the 19th and 20th centuries, orthodontics became a specialist field. Metal brackets, archwires, elastics and eventually stainless steel made treatment more predictable.

Later innovations – ceramic brackets, lingual braces and clear aligners – made the process more discreet. Today, orthodontics employs digital scans, computer models, and 3D printing for remarkably precise treatment planning.

The image of ancient people sporting gold and catgut braces is certainly appealing and dramatic, but it doesn’t match the evidence.

Ancient civilisations were aware of dental problems and occasionally attempted simple solutions. Yet they had neither the necessity nor the technology to move teeth as we do now.

The real story of orthodontics doesn’t begin in the ancient world but with the scientific breakthroughs of the 18th century and beyond – a history that’s fascinating enough without the myths.

Saroash Shahid 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 ancient braces myth: why our ancestors didn’t need straight teeth – https://theconversation.com/the-ancient-braces-myth-why-our-ancestors-didnt-need-straight-teeth-270962