Category: The Conversation – UK

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

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Oli Buckley, Professor in Cyber Security, Loughborough University

“Brainrot” is what many people call the chaotic, fast-moving memes, sounds and catchphrases that spread across TikTok, Roblox and online gaming and into playgrounds. An example is the endlessly repeated chant of “six-seven”, which still echoes through houses and schools across the country – to the bewilderment (or annoyance) of many teachers and parents.

But if you’ve ever said “I’ll be back” in a mock-Arnie voice or asked “you talkin’ to me?”, you’ve already engaged in a form of brainrot. The instinct to repeat and remix lines from the culture around us is nothing new.

What has changed is the source material. For young people growing up in a digital world, quotable moments don’t come from films or TV but from TikTok edits, Roblox streams, speedrun memes, Minecraft mods (modifications) and the fast-paced humour of online gaming.

Hearing a child burst into the looping “Skibidi dop dop dop yes yes” audio from the Skibidi Toilet trend, or repeat a surreal line from a Roblox NPC (non-player character), might sound like nonsense to adults. For the younger generation these fragments slot neatly into a fast-paced, highly referential style of humour. Today’s equivalents are faster, more layered and often more chaotic, with that chaos very much part of the appeal.

Although brainrot is often used knowingly and with a touch of irony to describe these phrases, remixing and repeating fragments of media has always been part of how people connect. It creates a shared cultural code, a second language made of references, rhythms and sounds that bind groups together and turn everyday moments into opportunities for humour and social connection. In many ways, this style of communication offers lightness and playfulness in a world that can often feel slow and muted by comparison.

Changing play

Brainrot is changing how children play online. Many adults grew up with video games that were built around structure. In Pokémon, Zelda or Half-Life, you cleared goals, quests and puzzles to reach endings. Even when games were open-world, giving you nearly total freedom to choose what challenges you take on and when, there was an underlying design logic you were meant to follow.

Those experiences shaped how we thought about play, and later how we approached designing games and interactive tools in research. Structure, narrative and pacing felt fundamental.

Watching children engage with today’s digital culture, and particularly with what gets called brainrot, challenges these assumptions. Their experiences aren’t always built around long-form story arcs or carefully crafted mechanics and challenges. Instead, it’s fluid, fragmentary and relentlessly social.

They jump between Roblox games, short TikTok edits, chaotic Minecraft mods and meme-based jokes without losing the thread. What sometimes looks like disjointed overstimulation to adults is entirely coherent to them. They’re fluent in a form of digital literacy that involves stitching together references, humour, audio, images and interactions at high speed.

Brainrot and research

From a research perspective, this has been a timely reminder that how children engage online changes. Young people aren’t abandoning meaningful play, they’re interacting with an online environment that is dramatically different from the one their parents grew up with.

There is research that raises questions about whether switching between short, chaotic bursts of content might affect attention or wellbeing for some users. For example, a recent study found associations between heavy use of short-form video apps and poorer sleep in adolescents, but also noted that higher social anxiety partly explained this pattern.

A broader analysis of a number of research studies reported similar correlations between heavier use and lower scores on attention tasks, as well as higher stress and anxiety. But these findings do not show causation. It remains unclear whether short-form content affects attention, or whether young people with particular cognitive styles simply gravitate towards media that already fits how they process information.

This shift has changed how we design games for learning. Instead of assuming attention must be sustained in a single direction, we think more about how curiosity works in shorter bursts, how play can be modular, and how meaning can emerge from participation rather than instruction.

Brainrot may not be something we’d replicate directly in an educational game, but some of its qualities, its pace, its playfulness, its remixing of ideas, can offer valuable prompts for thinking differently about how young people engage.
The way we learn is constantly evolving and it doesn’t always fit our older frameworks. Rather than resisting that, there’s value in trying to understand it, and in meeting them where they already are.

If we want to understand why brainrot resonates so strongly with children, it helps to see it not as meaningless noise, but as a form of social communication. These references work as inside jokes, but ones that can be remixed endlessly.

This is part of the appeal: brainrot is malleable, collaborative and playful. If you understand it, then you can riff on it, combine it, subvert it, and use it to signal belonging. There’s a enticing level of creativity stitched into the chaos.

There is also an element of self-awareness in much of brainrot culture. Its absurdity isn’t accidental, it’s part of the joke. In that sense it has echoes of earlier artistic or cultural movements that embraced nonsense or playful subversion. One of the key things is that this isn’t something imposed on children by companies or algorithms. Brainrot is something young people choose to build together, adapting and evolving references within their own circles.

Brainrot isn’t evidence that young people are disengaged or unimaginative. It’s a reflection of how they make sense of a digital world that is fast, fragmented and overflowing with ideas.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Online ‘brainrot’ isn’t ruining children’s minds – it’s a new way of navigating the modern internet – https://theconversation.com/online-brainrot-isnt-ruining-childrens-minds-its-a-new-way-of-navigating-the-modern-internet-268623

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lauren Thomas, Senior Lecturer in Marketing & Events, University of South Wales

Secondhand fashion is booming, yet most brides – even those who care about sustainability – still choose to walk down the aisle in a new wedding dress.

It’s a striking contradiction. Wedding gowns are expensive and resource-intensive to produce. They require large amounts of fabric and water for a garment worn only once. And while many couples are thinking more carefully about the environmental cost of their celebrations, secondhand bridalwear remains the exception rather than the norm.

Our research with UK brides uncovers why so many continue to resist the broader shift toward pre-loved fashion, when it comes to their big day. What we found is that wedding dresses carry cultural and emotional power far beyond their physical form.

For many brides, choosing the dress is a symbolic milestone in the transition from partner to wife. TV shows like Say Yes to the Dress have cemented the idea of a magical, transformative moment. It’s a moment that often involves loved ones, tears and the collective recognition of “the one”. Within this cultural script, the wedding dress is meant to signal the start of a new identity.

We interviewed 18 brides for our study. Many felt that secondhand options disrupt this narrative. Brides revealed to us that wearing a pre-loved dress would feel like stepping into someone else’s story, making it harder for them to imagine their own.

Most brides in our study cared about the environment and liked the idea of greener choices, but sustainability rarely shaped the final decision. Brides often found themselves weighing their personal values against a deeply ingrained emotional script from their childhood about how the wedding should feel and who they aspire to be on the day.

The dress played a central role in this identity transition. Brides used it to express the version of themselves they wanted to present as they became a wife, relying on fit, tailoring and style to craft that image. This made control especially important.

Many felt that secondhand options limited their ability to shape the dress around their identity. They worried about alterations, condition and whether a pre-owned dress could truly carry the personal meaning they envisioned.

Shopping for the dress was also part of this transition. Many brides pictured a boutique appointment with family or friends, where they could try on different versions of themselves and choose “the one”. This moment helped them confirm the role they were stepping into.

Secondhand shopping rarely supports this experience. Charity shops may feel informal or lack privacy, and online platforms remove the chance to feel the fabric or judge the fit. Without a space that carries the emotional weight of the choice, the brides we spoke to felt the transition was disrupted.

Practical issues added further pressure. Secondhand dresses are one-offs, which limits control over size and style, and their condition can be difficult to assess. These barriers weakened brides’ sense of control over how they would look and feel on the day.

Misconceptions reinforced this reluctance. Many brides simply did not know what secondhand options existed or how to navigate them. Some assumed the dresses would be dated, damaged or unhygienic. Without clear guidance or visibility, most brides never explored secondhand seriously, even if they liked the idea in principle.

What secondhand needs to offer

For brides to consider secondhand, the shopping experience must help them feel in control and emotionally connected to the dress. Brides in our study wanted curated boutiques offering fittings, expert guidance and reassurance about cleaning and alterations, all within a calm space where they could imagine themselves on their wedding day.

They also wanted secondhand options to be easier to find and navigate. Presenting pre-loved dresses as unique and meaningful, rather than as compromises, may help them feel like a credible part of the journey into married life.

Brides are not only choosing a dress. They are managing an identity shift. The wedding dress is one of the main items they use to shape who they will be on their wedding day. Sustainability matters, but it rarely outweighs the powerful symbolic and emotional role the wedding dress plays.

Secondhand bridalwear will only thrive if it supports this emotional transition. Greater visibility, stronger emotional resonance and an experience that helps brides feel the dress is truly theirs, may encourage others to choose secondhand without sacrificing the meaning they attach to becoming a wife.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Why brides are still reluctant to choose secondhand wedding dresses – https://theconversation.com/why-brides-are-still-reluctant-to-choose-secondhand-wedding-dresses-271238

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Chee Meng Tan, Assistant Professor of Business Economics, University of Nottingham

As China heads into the new year it will start rolling out its 15th five‑year plan, this one is for 2026-2030.

Beijing is doubling down on greening its economy, and aims to hit two major climate goals: “carbon peaking”, where carbon dioxide emissions have reached a ceiling by 2030, and “carbon neutrality”, where net carbon dioxide emissions have been driven down to zero by 2060.

Yet, China’s green push sits uneasily with its energy realities: coal still provides about 51% of its electricity as of mid‑2025, underpinning China’s difficulty in greening its energy system swiftly. Here are five major challenges that will shape China’s green transition as it moves into 2026.

1. Energy transmission and wastage

Imagine standing in western China (for instance in Tibet, Xinjiang and Qinghai), which produces a lot of solar and wind energy. On bright and windy days, these installations generate vast amounts of clean electricity. Yet much of that power goes to waste.

China’s grid can only handle a limited load, and when renewable generation peaks, it risk overloading the power network. So grid operators respond by telling energy producers to dial down output, which is a process called “curtailement”. The result is that electricity from the west often fails to reach eastern economic hubs, such as Beijing, Tianjin, Shandong, Jiangsu, Shanghai, Zhejiang, Fujian and Guangdong, where demand is greatest.

China needs to invest heavily in the ways to transport and store excess energy. The State Grid Corporation of China claims that it will be spending 650 billion yuan (£69 billion) in 2025 to upgrade the power network, and perhaps much more in subsequent years.

The challenge here is sustaining these capital-intensive projects while the broader economy still grapples with the lasting effects of the 2021 property crisis.

2. Cutting coal without blackouts

Even as China vows to go green and be a world leader in environmental energy, it continues to expand its coal capacity, and has added enough new coal-fired power stations in 2024 to power the UK twice over per annum. This apparent contradiction stems from concerns over energy security.

Beijing is determined to avoid a repeat of the blackouts and power shortages of 2020–2022. Coal provides dependable, round‑the‑clock power that renewables cannot yet fully replace. Yet the steady expansion of coal capacity undercuts China’s climate pledges and highlights ongoing tensions between China’s president, Xi Jinping’s, dual carbon goals and the country’s pressing energy demands, which raises questions about how far political ambition can stretch against economic reality.

3. Taming overcapacity without hurting growth

China’s vast manufacturing strength, which was once an asset, is now posing a problem. The rapid expansion of solar, wind, and electric vehicle industries has created overcapacity across the clean‑tech sector. Factories are producing more panels, turbines, and batteries than the domestic market can absorb. This has created a cut-throat price war, where companies sell at below cost price, which erodes company profits.

Beijing must find a balance between restraining overproduction without choking growth in green industries. This balancing act is politically sensitive, as local governments depend on these industries to create jobs (7.4 million in 2023), and generate substantial revenue. It was estimated that in 2024 green industries contributed 13.6 trillion yuan to China’s economy or 10% of the country’s GDP.

4. Trade tensions from overcapacity

China’s surplus of clean tech such as cheap solar panels, electric vehicles (EVs), and batteries, have triggered trade tensions abroad. In 2023 and 2024, the European Union investigated allegations of Chinese subsidies being poured into EVs, wind turbines and solar panels. Tariffs of up to 35.3% were placed on Chinese EVs. However, tariffs on Chinese solar panels and wind turbines have not been imposed so far.

But, on January 1 2026 the EU’s Carbon Border Adjustment Mechanism (CBAM) comes into effect. The CBAM is a carbon tax that Europeans will pay if imported goods are made using high carbon emissions. While the tax does not explicitly target EVs and solar panels, it will cover carbon-intensive materials used in their production, such as steel and aluminium, which are made using coal-fired plants.

What this means is Chinese clean tech might lose its competitive edge in the European market as customers are driven away from its products. Industrial players might rely on exports to stay afloat given the highly competitive nature of China’s domestic green market, but the CBAM is likely to undermine China’s green industry.

5. Fulfilling green targets locally

Chinese local governments are formally responsible for putting Beijing’s climate policies into practice, but many are expected to implement these policies largely on their own. While provincial authorities typically have more fiscal resources and technical expertise, city-level governments within each province often don’t have the funds to do so, which makes it difficult to deliver on green initiatives in practice.

At the same time, even when local authority leaders are told to achieve climate‑related targets, their career advancement remains closely linked to conventional economic performance indicators such as GDP growth and investment.

All of this helps explain the continued enthusiasm for new coal‑fired power projects. They are framed not only as a fail‑safe in case renewables and grids cannot meet rising demand, but also as avenues for local employment, fixed‑asset investment and fiscal revenue.

China’s continued greening in 2026 will be challenged by all of these issues.

Chee Meng Tan 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. China’s five green economy challenges in 2026 – https://theconversation.com/chinas-five-green-economy-challenges-in-2026-270866

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Anastasia Denisova, Senior Lecturer in Journalism, University of Westminster

Four in five adults in the UK say they have changed their lifestyle to help tackle environmental change. The New Year is a good time to implement changes to behaviour, but our willpower is finite.

The secret isn’t to be more virtuous, but to be strategic.

If you want 2026 to be the year you make a difference without burning out, here is what the evidence suggests you should prioritise – and what you should ignore.

Here are some resolutions that are likely to work.

1. Buy clothes from a reselling platform once a month

Immediate gratification is one of the most reliable predictors of long-term success. A vow to “buy nothing” is miserable and hard to keep. A vow to “buy second hand” gives you a treasure hunt.

A garment spends 2.2 years on average in a UK wardrobe, while fashion remains one of the biggest polluters – that’s why buying lots of outfits from the high street is problematic. Reselling platforms such as Vinted, Depop and eBay, or charity shops, can provide a guilt-free solution to the endless consumption encouraged by the fashion media and influencers.

2. Make plans with friends

Making changes is hard – and it’s even harder doing it alone. We are social animals, susceptible to “social proof” – naturally adopting the behaviour of people we admire or respect.

Leverage this by finding your herd. Identify a couple of friends, family members or colleagues who are interested in gardening, walks in nature, mending clothes, volunteering at a local farm or attending or teaching a zero-waste cooking workshop. Having a plan acts as scaffolding for a new habit, but making that plan with friends turns an eco-practice into a social event you actually look forward to.

3. Indulge in grains, vegetables and dips twice a week

Numerous studies warn about the harmful effects of a meat-heavy diet. But for “meat-attached” eaters, going cold turkey (or cold tofu) rarely works.

Instead, use positive framing. Not “eat less of this”, but “eat more of this”. Change “meat-free Monday” to “hummus-heavy Mondays”. Research shows that the most unshakeable burger enthusiasts can still be convinced to reduce their meat intake through the argument of food purity (avoiding hormones and factory farming) and the health benefits (weight control, cholesterol). Frame the resolution as indulging in grains, vegetables and dips, rather than restricting meat.

4. The ‘boring’ one: write to your MP

Less entertaining than other resolutions, this suggestion is nonetheless likely to have longer and wider repercussions. Leading climate thinkers such as academics Hannah Ritchie and Kimberly Nicholas argue that influencing policy is a stronger action than adjusting your individual behaviour.

A letter written to your local MP can echo in the higher echelons of power. Imagine your representative telling the Prime Minister: “my constituents are demanding greener energy and transport”. It takes 15 minutes. Charities such as Friends of the Earth even provide templates. It’s a low-effort, high-impact resolution.

On the other hand, there are some resolutions that are more likely to fail.

1. The ‘I will never fly again’ trap

Giving up flying is an effective way to shrink your carbon footprint, but it’s a tough New Year resolution to stick to. For many with family abroad or tight budgets, the price disparity between cheap (often heavily subsidised) flights and expensive trains makes this difficult to sustain, adding financial complications to an already tricky ethical dilemma.

A more realistic approach would be to commit to “no domestic flights” or “trains where possible”. Save the hardline stance for when the mince pies have settled.

2. Trying to go ‘all green’ at once

Beware the “sustainable consumption paradox”. This is the paralysis that comes from being overwhelmed with information when trying to make greener choices: worrying that your recycled plastic takes too much energy to produce, or if your fair trade coffee caused deforestation.

Trying to fix every aspect of your life leads to information overload and failure. Pick two or three battles, no more.

3. Converting the non-believers

Resolving to convert your friends and family is a recipe for conflict, not change. Shame triggers defensiveness, not action.

Instead, lead by example. Talk about your new habits casually – mention the bargain you found on Vinted or your new recipe for beef-free bolognese – without preaching. You are more likely to plant a seed with enthusiasm than with a smug lecture.

Eco-awareness is very high in the UK, so if you’re reading this, know that you’re in the majority. The best strategy to turn concern into action is to quiet the overthinking and begin 2026 with optimism and a realistic, achievable commitment.

Anastasia Denisova received funding from JJ Trust for her research policy brief Fashion Media and Sustainability.

– ref. Three climate New Year’s resolutions that will fail – and four that can actually stick – https://theconversation.com/three-climate-new-years-resolutions-that-will-fail-and-four-that-can-actually-stick-271988

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Vlad Glăveanu, Professor of Psychology, Business School, Dublin City University

The start of a new year has long been considered an important moment for personal change. Psychological research shows that calendar landmarks such as birthdays, Mondays or the new year can act as mental reset points, making people more likely to reflect on their lives and attempt new goals. This phenomenon was described by researchers more than a decade ago as the “fresh start effect”.

Yet many people reach the new year less enthusiastically than they once did. We live in a world in which mental wellness is deteriorating, particularly among young people, and in which being asked to imagine change can be daunting. Climate anxiety, political instability and economic precarity can all make the idea of “starting over” seem unrealistic.

Research also shows that repeated or imposed change can lead to change fatigue. This is a state of emotional exhaustion that reduces people’s willingness to engage with new initiatives, even when they are presented as positive. Rather than renewing hope, calls for change can provoke scepticism, withdrawal or disengagement in these people.

Our ability to imagine the future is not unlimited. Studies on anxiety and uncertainty consistently show that when people feel under threat or lack control, their future-oriented thinking narrows. Instead of imagining a range of possibilities, people tend to focus on risks, losses and worst-case scenarios.

So if you’re struggling to make changes, the problem is not necessarily a lack of imagination or hope. It could be that circumstances are making it difficult for hope and imagination to operate.

My own research at the DCU Centre for Possibility Studies focuses on what psychologists call possibility thinking. This is about how people perceive what could be different, explore alternatives and feel able to act. A 2024 study showed that these elements need to support each other. When people can see opportunities but feel unable to act on them, or feel motivated but unable to imagine alternatives, meaningful change is difficult.

This pattern emerged in a December 2025 study I co-authored, which involved teachers taking part in a professional development programme meant to stimulate possibility thinking. During the study, participants found out they would soon move into a new school building, as their existing school was to be demolished. Many teachers reported emotional fatigue in response to the prospect of having to “start over” yet again. Instead of excitement, the dominant response was depletion and reduced motivation.

Although this example concerns a life transition rather than the new year, it helps to explain why fresh starts can feel harder in the current climate. When people feel that a change is unfair, badly supported and might harm them, they are less likely to get behind it and more likely to push back. This can undermine their capacity to engage with new possibilities.

This also helps explain why many New Year’s resolutions don’t stick: people often treat them as tests of pure willpower, but research shows that lasting change depends much more on how goals are set up, supported and built into everyday life.

Decades of research on behaviour change show that motivation is shaped by context. Time pressure, financial stress, caring responsibilities and institutional constraints all limit what people can realistically change, regardless of their intentions.

Rather than focusing on dramatic reinvention, it may be more realistic to ask what small shifts are possible within the constraints you’re under. Possibility thinking does not mean ignoring limits or pretending everything will improve. It involves learning how to work creatively with constraints, rather than against them.

For example, someone who knows they have limited time and energy might set a resolution like: “I will add a 10‑minute walk into my daily routine, such as after lunch or school drop‑off, and adjust it each week based on what is actually workable for me.”

It’s also important to recognise that imagining the future doesn’t have to be an individual activity. Research on shared or collective agency shows that people are better at envisioning and sustaining change when responsibility is distributed across groups, whether in families, workplaces or communities. Discussing limits and possibilities together can expand what feels achievable.

For example, a family might make a shared resolution to eat more home‑cooked meals, dividing tasks so that one person plans the menu, another cooks on certain nights, and children help with prep. That way, the change is carried and sustained by the group rather than one person.

In the end, the new year is a powerful cultural moment. But in a world shaped by uncertainty and fatigue, renewal is unlikely to come from pressure to “start fresh” or try harder. It may come, instead, from learning to imagine differently: with others, within limits, and in ways that make positive, even if small, changes still feel possible.

Vlad Glăveanu 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 New Year’s resolutions might feel harder this year – and what could help – https://theconversation.com/why-new-years-resolutions-might-feel-harder-this-year-and-what-could-help-272456

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Rachel Woods, Senior Lecturer in Physiology, University of Lincoln

Every January, internet searches for the terms “diet” and “weight loss” surge, gyms become busier and diet trends spread across social media. But research shows that most people who try the latest quick-fix plan do not keep the weight off.

Focusing on weight alone can overshadow other changes that improve health in more reliable and sustainable ways. Some of these may lead to weight loss and some may not, but the benefits are clear either way.

Here are five evidence-based resolutions that can support better health – and none are about losing weight.

1. Eat more plants

Eating more plants does not mean you have to become vegetarian. If you eat meat and want to continue, that is fine. You can still increase the amount and variety of plant foods on your plate.

Read more:
The 30-plants-a-week challenge: you’ll still see gut health benefits even if you don’t meet this goal

There is a vast amount of research showing that diets rich in plant foods are linked with lower risks of major diseases. A meta-analysis of more than 2.2 million adults found that consistently sticking to a plant-based dietary pattern was associated with significantly lower risks of type 2 diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer and all-cause mortality (the risk of dying from any cause).

Although that study focused on people limiting or avoiding meat, other research has shown that even among omnivores, each additional 200 g of fruits and vegetables per day is linked with reduced risk of coronary heart disease, cardiovascular disease, cancer, stroke and premature mortality (dying earlier than expected for someone of your age).

Adding more plants is one of the simplest ways to improve your diet. This includes fruit and vegetables, but also grains, nuts, seeds, herbs, spices and pulses.

2. Exercise

If exercise were a pill, it would be prescribed to everyone. It is one of the most effective things you can do for your health.

Although exercise is often discussed in the context of weight loss, it is not as effective for losing weight as many people assume. Its real value lies in helping to maintain a healthy body weight and supporting overall health.

Read more:
The exercise paradox: why workouts aren’t great for weight loss but useful for maintaining a healthy body weight

Research has shown that exercise alone improves several important health markers. It can raise levels of HDL cholesterol, often called “good cholesterol”, because higher levels help protect against heart disease. It also lowers triglycerides, a type of fat in the blood that increases cardiovascular risk when elevated.

Exercise helps the body regulate blood glucose more effectively, and it reduces arterial stiffness, meaning the arteries stay more flexible and less prone to the strain that increases the risk of heart disease and stroke. It can also reduce liver fat, which lowers the likelihood of developing non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. All of these improvements can happen even when a person’s weight stays the same.

More broadly, exercise has been shown to improve fitness, quality of life, sleep and symptoms of depression. These benefits arise because physical activity boosts blood flow to the brain, releases mood-supporting chemicals such as endorphins and helps regulate circadian rhythms – the internal 24-hour cycles that guide sleep, wakefulness, hormone release and other essential functions.

The best type of exercise is the one you enjoy, because you are more likely to stick to it. The benefits come from consistency. Building movement into everyday routines, such as taking the stairs, walking part of your commute or cycling the school run, can be as effective as structured workouts. This also means you do not need an expensive gym membership that might be abandoned by the end of January.

These approaches are not possible for everyone, so finding something that fits your circumstances is important. If you are new to exercise, easing in and building up gradually helps reduce the risk of injury and gives your body time to adapt.

3. Stress

This one is easier said than done, since stress is not usually something we choose. But it can have wide-ranging effects on the body. Long-term stress can weaken the immune system, raise blood pressure and cholesterol and disrupt sleep.

It can also change how we eat. Research suggests that around 40% of people eat more when stressed, another 40% eat less and about 20% do not change how much they eat.

Regardless of direction, the types of foods chosen often shift towards more pleasurable options higher in fat and sugar. Stress has also been linked with eating fewer fruits and vegetables.

Looking at what is driving your stress and seeing whether any part of it can be eased or managed differently can have meaningful effects on health.

4. Sleep

Sleep has a major impact on health. Not getting enough is linked with a range of physical and mental health conditions, including high blood pressure, heart disease, dementia and depression.

Adults are usually advised to get around seven hours a night, although this varies from person to person.

Sleep also influences diet. Lack of sleep has been linked with increased appetite and food intake. It also tends to increase preferences for high-energy foods such as sweets and fast food, partly because sleep deprivation disrupts hormones that regulate hunger and craving.

Read more:
Gut microbes may have links with sleep deprivation

This advice can feel frustrating for people dealing with insomnia or caring responsibilities. But making a realistic plan to improve sleep, where possible, may be a new year resolution that pays off over time.

5. Alcohol

Alcohol is linked with long-term risks such as cancer, heart disease and liver disease. But even in the short term, it can disrupt sleep because alcohol changes sleep stages and reduces the amount of restorative deep sleep. Alcohol can also influence appetite and food choices by lowering inhibitions and making high-calorie foods seem more appealing.

NHS guidance advises people not to drink more than 14 units a week on a regular basis (equivalent to six pints of average-strength beer or 10 small glasses of lower-strength wine) and to have several “drink free days” per week. This guideline is intended to keep the risk of alcohol-related illness low, but research shows there is no completely safe level of drinking.

Enjoying a drink now and then is a personal choice. But reducing how much you drink is an evidence-based way to improve health.

Many new year resolutions focus on weight, yet long-term health is shaped by a much wider set of habits. Small, realistic steps can add up to meaningful improvements in health throughout the year.

Rachel Woods 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. Five ways to improve your health this year that don’t rely on losing weight – https://theconversation.com/five-ways-to-improve-your-health-this-year-that-dont-rely-on-losing-weight-269587

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Geoff Beattie, Professor of Psychology, Edge Hill University

I knew there would be an argument. The room had gone eerily quiet. “Isn’t it about time,” my partner began, “that we freshened this place up a little?”

There was a long pause as she glanced around the white walls of our kitchen – which, I’ll admit, do have a little bit of paint chipping off them. Then she dropped a glossy magazine on the table – World of Interiors, I think. I was trying not to look.

My partner is passionate about colours and knows the names of all the different shades. I don’t – but I am a psychologist, and that gives me some skin in this colour game too.

Let’s start with those myriad names. Clay pink, muted teal, warm taupe … psychologists have long argued that the extent of your colour vocabulary affects how good you are at colour recognition. My partner spots subtle differences that I never notice. Recently, it’s been all about katsuobushi smoke, halva sesame and black garlic amber.

Colours exert their influence through a combination of evolutionary predispositions, physiological responses, learned associations and broader cultural meanings. Because of this, I’d argue that choosing a new colour scheme is a psychological issue, not just an aesthetic one.

Indeed, a growing body of neuroscientific, behavioural and psychological research shows that colour is not merely a matter of taste. The hues that surround us influence our emotional states, cognitive performance, social interactions, sleep – and even our long-term psychological wellbeing.

In other words, the colours of our walls might be shaping our lives in ways we rarely consider.

Strong or subtle?

Let’s start with a fundamental question: what does psychology say about whether to go strong or subtle in your paint choices?

Neutral colours (whites, greys, beiges) are low in visual stimulation, which helps reduce sensory overload and stress. They enhance perceived spaciousness, and can have positive effects on cognitive performance in both children and adults. But their psychological impact hinges on shade and context. Cold greys or stark whites may evoke sterility or sadness, particularly in poorly lit spaces.

Recently, there has been a general trend away from white towards using brighter colours in our homes. The hot colours for 2026 apparently include chocolate brown and burgundy – while Ikea’s colour of the year is Rebel Pink: “A vibrant, playful shade chosen to inspire joy, energy and self-expression.”

However, the psychological evidence says choose low- to mid-saturation shades rather than hyper-bright colours for your long-term comfort. Blue and muted green are associated with enhanced creativity and improved problem-solving. A muted green home office or study may make you more innovative without you really noticing why.

Green, with its obvious nature connection, is also linked to restoration and reduced mental fatigue, supporting the broader findings of environmental psychology on biophilic design.

You should probably reserve warm, energising colours for social or active areas in the house. Soft yellow feels cheerful, presumably due to its association with sunlight – but high-saturation yellows may increase agitation.

And then there’s red. In evolutionary terms, bright red wavelengths tend to increase physiological arousal, raising heart rate and galvanic skin response. It can also affect desire – one study found men perceived women as “more attractive” and “more sexually desirable” when their photos were presented on a red rather than white background.

But red is also associated with danger and warning. Children did less well in problem-solving tasks when their exam number was written in red rather than green or black, or if the cover of the test booklet was red. Even just seeing the word “red” can negatively affect intellectual performance.

So think carefully before using red in your home office. A red-accented study might feel “dynamic” initially, but it could backfire when you start on tasks requiring calm focus and clear thinking. In contrast, painting an office blue seems to have a calming effect. It is associated with sky and water, and seems to be connected to improved concentration.

The 60-30-10 rule

In truth, my partner didn’t seem all that keen to take the advice of a psychologist – well, this one, anyway – about the house’s impending makeover. “Haven’t you heard of the 60-30-10 rule?” she sniffed.

The experts of interior design suggest 60% of a room should be devoted to the dominant colour (the majority of the walls plus a key piece of furniture like a sofa, say), 30% for the secondary colour to add visual interest (perhaps including curtains or carpet), and 10% to an “accent colour”. The roots of these proportions have been said to lie in visual psychology and mathematics’ “golden ratio” – although some recent studies suggest the association of this precise mathematical formula with our perceptions of beauty is something of a myth.

Nonetheless, I propose this scheme for our living room: soft sage green (dominant), warm cream (secondary), plus brushed gold as the accent colour (maybe as cushions).

My reasoning? Sage green reduces stress, improves relaxation and mimics the cognitive benefits of being in nature. Cream warms the palette, encouraging a cosy rather than “forest hermit” vibe. Finally, accent colours draw attention, and gold can have a powerful symbolic and emotional impact because of its cultural associations with wealth, success and achievement. It subconsciously signals confidence and positivity (in moderation, of course – Donald Trump famously loves excessive gold decoration).

Now I’m just waiting to see which colour paints my partner returns with.

Geoff Beattie 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. What colour should I repaint my home? Ask a psychologist – https://theconversation.com/what-colour-should-i-repaint-my-home-ask-a-psychologist-271787

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Mary Jane Spiller, Senior Lecturer in Cognitive Psychology, University of East London

I have a form of time–space synaesthesia, so the new year arrives for me in a very physical way. I feel myself move around the year, almost like I’m travelling along a structure. December sits low and to my left; January lifts and slides forward. The transition has a weight to it, as though the calendar itself shifts in space.

Synaesthesia is a perceptual condition where one sense triggers an experience in another sense. For some people, sounds trigger colours and shapes, or words might have tastes.

For others, like me, sequences such as months of the year or days of the week have precise places in space around our bodies. It is most commonly a developmental condition, which means that “synaesthetes” have experienced the world this way for as long as they remember. These synaesthetic experiences happen automatically, and are generally consistent over time for the person. Today is in front of me, tomorrow is to my left, and yesterday is to my right. If I ever woke up to find time had moved somewhere else, I would feel confused and lost.

For me, this makes the start of the new year feel like a physical transition, a time for new beginnings, as we move around the bend of time, leaving the old year behind me.

Like most people, between Christmas and new year, I completely lose track of what day it is — the whole week feels like a strange, timeless blur. Because of my time-space synaesthesia, this disorientation is amplified for me. The usual mental map I rely on to anchor dates and days seems scrambled, leaving me feeling unmoored.

As a cognitive psychologist, I have spent the last 20 years researching synaesthesia. I am fascinated by the way our minds help us experience the world around us, and particularly in the way we all experience the world differently. As well as helping to understand and document the synaesthetic experience itself, I am also interested in understanding the impact synaesthesia might have on other aspects of our lives.

Time-space synaesthesia provides an excellent way to explore how the brain organises time. For example, one of the benefits of these mental time-space calendars is an association with a better memory for historical events or important life events such as anniversaries or birthdays.

People with time-space synaesthesia may have cognitive advantages because their spatial mapping of time can serve as a powerful mnemonic aid. Research shows we learn skills like calendar calculation – such as knowing that December 1 1937 fell on a Wednesday, while December 1 2037 will be a Monday – faster and more accurately than people without synaesthesia. So our unique mental representations may help to boost memory and pattern recognition. This helps us understand the benefit of time being represented spatially and visually, rather than simply linearly.

Time-space synaesthetes also tend to have enhanced memory and attention for ordered information, such as dates and sequences, which may contribute to our strong performance in tasks involving time organisation, such as planning.

These mental timelines are so ingrained that they can override external cues — a phenomenon called the spatial Stroop effect. These automatic mappings can subtly influence decision-making when speed and spatial judgement matter.

It seems that it is not simply the effect of synaesthesia that drives these cognitive advantages. Research has highlighted differences between the brains of synaesthetes and non-synaesthetes. These differences may also give rise to wider cognitive differences unrelated to the sensory experiences. For example, time-space synaesthetes not only have good memories for times and dates, but also other aspects of memory too such as word lists, pictures or colours. Additionally, a 2015 study suggested time-space synaesthesia may be linked with more vivid mental pictures.

The question that has always fascinated me is, why doesn’t everyone have
synaesthesia? We now know that synaesthesia has a genetic basis, and around 4% of the population experience a form of it. If you experience it, mostly likely a few others in your family will too, although it may be a different combination of senses involved.

Our environment and learning also plays a part in its development. The influence of cultural norms can often be seen in the spatial layout of synaesthetes’ mental calendars. For synaesthetes with a language that is read from left to right for example, the passage of time will also often move from left to right, or vice versa for those who read right to left. My own shape for the year is a kind of oval shape, with January at one end and August at the other, and I can’t help but feel that my experience of growing up in the UK with the September starting school year influenced it.

All in your brain

Brain imaging research is also helping us understand what is happening in the brain during synaesthetic experiences. For example, people with synaesthesia have brains that are wired for extra connectivity. Brain regions that normally handle separate senses (like colour, sound and spatial processing) talk to each other more. Imaging studies show pathways in central nervous system tissue linking perception with higher-level thinking, which helps explain why synaesthesia feels so seamless. Brain imaging research published in 2020 adds another layer: synaesthetes use spatial-processing regions when working with numbers, showing that our brains literally integrate space and sequence.

Time is associated with space within many cultures, with people who grew up in the UK, Europe and US tending to think of the future in front of them and the past behind. Time-space synaesthesia helps us to remember that even within different cultures, there will be differences in the way we experience the “movement” of time, as scientists think synaesthesia exists in all cultures. The new year is a reminder that time is not only something we measure but also something we inhabit. And our personal journeys through time may have strikingly diverse landscapes.

Mary Jane Spiller 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 my time-space synaesthesia affects how I experience and ‘feel’ the new year – https://theconversation.com/how-my-time-space-synaesthesia-affects-how-i-experience-and-feel-the-new-year-272465

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Lianganzi Wang, PhD Candidate, Sound and Music Computing, Queen Mary University of London

I was walking in Alice Holt Forest on England’s Surrey-Hampshire border when I stopped to listen. Despite there being nobody nearby, a slow “breathing” sound filled my ears. This was not a trick. An artwork was turning live forest data into sound, making the air feel like it was gently rising and falling. In that moment, “climate change” stopped being abstract and became something I could hear.

The piece I could hear is called Dendrophone by composer Peter Batchelor. It maps sunlight, humidity and carbon dioxide readings into a multichannel sound field in real time. Wetter air sounds “stickier”, drier air “crisper”, bright light introduces a fine hiss. When CO₂ uptake is high, you can hear longer, steadier “breaths”.

This is part of a soundscape installation called Sensing the Forest that has been produced by a cross‑disciplinary team at Queen Mary University of London, De Montfort University and the public agencies, Forest Research and Forestry England. The aim is straightforward: to help people make sense of forests and climate through listening, not screens.

Dendrophone captures three easy‑to‑tell textures from live data. Humidity is heard as a “dry/wet” sound; sunlight energy as a subtle hiss (more juddery when activity is high, smoother when calm); and carbon dioxide uptake as “breathing” that becomes longer and steadier when uptake is higher, shorter and more uneven when uptake is lower.

Played over several speakers around the site in the woods, these sounds blend with birds, wind and visitors’ footsteps so people can hear the forest’s state as it unfolds in real time.

The team also installed two DIY, solar‑powered off‑grid audio streamers (essentially tiny radio stations) that broadcast the forest online and auto‑record at sunrise, midday, sunset and the midpoint between sunset and the next sunrise. Recordings are uploaded and stored online, building a long‑term installation soundscape dataset.

Sounds can also include species cues, the noises that various animals make. Tree Museum, by sound artist Ed Chivers, is another installation in the same exhibition that uses artificial woodpecker drumming to draw attention to the lesser-spotted woodpecker (an endangered species down in numbers by 91% since 1967 in the UK). If a sound disappears, what else do we lose?

The mix of the soundscape changes constantly. Listen at different times and you’ll notice the balance of natural sound, human sound and installation sound shifting. Weeks of rain make everything feel “wetter”; bright days bring out the hiss; busy weekends sound busier. Each is a clue to what the forest is experiencing at that moment.

In the forest, there’s a survey QR code to capture instant reactions, plus a guided walk to make “how to listen, what to notice” clear for everyone.

Sensing the Forest doesn’t claim to fix the climate crisis, but it offers something valuable – a sensory language for data and a not‑so‑distant threat. In a time of ecological strain, technology here is less about control and more about translation; a way to foster ecological empathy.

Next time you step into a forest, pause and listen. You might hear not just the present, but the future we share.

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Lianganzi Wang is pursuing a PhD at the Centre for Digital Music (C4DM), Queen Mary University of London, supported by the China Scholarship Council (CSC).

– ref. How to listen to a forest – https://theconversation.com/how-to-listen-to-a-forest-268225