Global debate about how to navigate the climate crisis often centres on high-level pledges and whether national targets are being met. Yet focusing on these technical outcomes obscures a deeper problem that keeps climate action falling short.
This problem is ecological myopia: treating climate change as one issue among many rather than as a sign of wider Earth system disruption. It narrows how we understand risk and allows politics, business and daily life to proceed as if planetary stability could still be taken for granted.
Set against the backdrop of a drying and burning Amazon, the UN climate summit in Brazil in November 2025 showed why this way of seeing no longer works.
Ecological myopia interprets climate change as a conventional environmental problem rather than as a planetary one. It assumes climate sits in a box labelled environment or sustainability while the rest of social and economic life sits in separate silos. But this is short sighted.
Political geoecology – an approach that sees politics as inseparable from the Earth’s ecological systems – offers one way to understand what this leaves out. The idea is that politics and ecology cannot be separated because modern societies are built into the Earth system through energy use, land change and industrial infrastructures. These connections shape climate risks and inequalities yet remain largely invisible.
In many people’s conversations, record heat or flooding are still described as odd weather rather than recognised as signs of a shifting climate that affects food prices and public health. Companies announce net-zero plans yet expand activities that embed new emissions.
Meanwhile, governments hand responsibility to environment ministries even though the main drivers sit in finance or security. We need to see much more clearly.
The past ten years have been the hottest on record. The Amazon, host of this year’s UN climate summit, is experiencing droughts so severe that they disrupt river transport and rainfall patterns across the Americas. These developments are not isolated. They reflect mounting pressure on the Earth system.
Modern societies also forget that their prosperity rests on a simple physical process: burning things. Contemporary civilisation has been built around combustion, from coal and oil to natural gas that run homes and industries.
This has turned humanity into a planetary force of disruption, reshaping the atmosphere, the oceans and the ecosystems on which all life depends.
Yet ecological myopia makes it difficult for governments and institutions to respond with the urgency required. When climate is treated as a sector, action is funnelled into narrow channels such as emissions targets or carbon markets, while the deeper forces reshaping the planet continue largely unchecked. Land use, fossil-fuel infrastructure and global supply chains remain the structural drivers of destabilisation.
The cure for ecological myopia is to reframe how we see planetary systems. Negro Elkha/Shutterstock
A planetary lens
A cure for ecological myopia requires using the planetary lens that political geoecology offers. It starts from a simple premise: Everything people depend on, including energy, water, food and health, is embedded in the Earth system.
Looking through this lens shifts priorities. Climate policy becomes inseparable from economic and social policy. Emissions targets are linked to land use and infrastructure, and what societies produce and build.
Indigenous and local knowledge systems are recognised as essential sources of resilience. Protecting ecosystems such as the Amazon is understood as protecting the processes that sustain rainfall and regional stability.
This perspective echoes ideas in research and policy circles on planetary governance, which is not simply global governance at a larger scale. It focuses on how societies can govern within ecological limits and in response to feedbacks – the knock-on effects the Earth system sends back as conditions change – rather than managing climate as an external problem.
For example, shrinking river flows that threaten hydropower or severe flooding that disrupts food production and transport show how Earth system changes spill across sectors, not just climate policy.
Seeing more clearly is the first step toward wiser action.
The central challenge is not only to cut emissions. It is to rethink how societies understand and organise their relationship with the living Earth and to overcome ecological myopia in media narratives, institutional design and economic choices.
The Amazon is often described as the lungs of the planet. It is also a mirror that shows how closely human life is bound into the wider Earth system and how vulnerable that system has become. Now, it’s time to use this mirror to tackle our ecological myopia.
Don’t have time to read about climate change as much as you’d like?
Prior to retirement Simon Dalby was funded by the Canadian Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council.
Tom Pegram 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.
Great apes are humans’ closest relatives in the animal kingdom. As much as 98.8% of their DNA is shared, but while the number of humans living on the planet is increasing fast, other great apes are in decline. Five out of the seven species are now critically endangered.
The UN has estimated that about 22,000 great apes disappeared from their natural habitats between 2005 and 2011. Adults are mostly killed, their meat and body parts sold for bushmeat, traditional medicine or, in some cases, traditional ceremonies.
Babies and juvenile apes, on the other hand, command a much higher price alive. They are also easier to smuggle across borders. Seizures and confiscations of illegal animal trades are rare and often poorly documented.
Through the decades, great apes have remained an acquisition target for some zoos and animal attractions, sometimes by dodging the rules. The desire to keep “exotic” animals as pets also remains a key driver of the illegal global wildlife trade.
Social media has made the illegal trade in great apes much more efficient: sellers and buyers can use online platforms to exchange messages about prices and transport.
The convention was formed 50 years ago to create rules for a legal trade in wildlife and to stem the decline in wild animal populations. Under Cites, commercial trade in great apes is effectively banned. But it has been long known that the complex, paper-based permit system can be avoided or ignored.
Jane Goodall warned of the threats to great apes for years.
So why are governments not doing more? First, the organisation meant to provide oversight and monitoring of wildlife trade – the Cites secretariat – is underfunded. While the legal global wildlife trade market is valued at US$220 billion (£164 billion) a year, the secretariat has an annual budget of about US$20 million. And like most international treaties, it is reliant on the collaboration of its 185 state members, with all the complexities of international politics.
State governments also don’t treat the illegal wildlife trade as high a priority as illegal drugs, weapons or human trafficking – despite the well-known connections between these. And many still operate an outdated permit system developed in the 1970s, instead of the proposed electronic version which would provide much better protection against fraudulent permits, faster and transparent reporting, and increased collaboration with customs officials.
Moving apes around
There are, however, legitimate reasons to transfer great apes internationally. Moving second-generation, captive-bred animals from one registered zoo to another would be a typical example. Getting an export permit showing the animal as captive-born is one of the easiest ways to transport great apes internationally.
But this can also be used as a loophole. In the late 2000s, some 150 chimpanzees, bonobos and gorillas were reportedly exported from Guinea to China, although there is no known facility in Guinea breeding either species. In this case, high-level corruption was a key factor: in 2015, Ansoumane Doumbouya, then head of the Cites management authority in Guinea, was arrested and sentenced to 18 months in prison for selling fraudulent export permits. He was later pardoned by the president of Guinea.
In September 2025, Cites officials visited one of the largest private animal collections in the world. Vantara, India’s wildlife sanctuary turned mega-zoo, was hailed by some as an amazing story of love and care for wildlife. But the Wildlife Animal Protection Forum of South Africa, a national network of 30 South African organisations, has been increasingly concerned about the fast-paced imports of over 2,000 wild animal species from all over the world. Vantara now reportedly keeps close to 150,000 animals, more than any other well-known zoo.
In a recent investigation, the Indian Supreme Court absolved Vantara from any wrongdoing in relation to animal imports. But after this ruling, the Cites secretariat also visited the zoo. Its recent report raised significant concerns about several issues relating to animal transportation involving Vantara.
Vantara has claimed that Cites gave “a clean chit” to the facility, and that it had noted that all animal transfers to the facility were “fully legitimate and transparent, in accordance with Indian law”.
The Cites report said chimpanzees were imported from the Democratic Republic of Congo and also Middle Eastern countries (via the United Arab Emirates) as captive animals. As far as the author is aware, none of these countries are known to breed chimpanzees in zoos or other captive facilities.
Even more worryingly, a bonobo from Iraq, a mountain gorilla from Haiti, and a Tapanuli orangutan from Indonesia were also acquired. There are few recognised zoos globally which breed bonobos, and none breeding either mountain gorillas or Tapanuli orangutans. There is only a single male Tapanuli orangutan kept in an Indonesian zoo. Based on the Zoological Information Management System, the global zoo database, there is currently no mountain gorilla in zoos worldwide.
More generally, Cites has called on member countries affected by the great ape trade – both as a source and destination – to implement additional measures to prevent any illegal transfers. The International Union for Conservation of Nature, the world’s largest conservation alliance, has also called for “international action to protect wild great apes in their natural habitats, with a focus on addressing poaching and illegal trade”.
Introducing a modern electronic permit system and carrying out more enforcement would be important first steps to tackling these crimes. Otherwise, these species that are so close to humans will disappear in front of our eyes.
Prof Matyas Liptovszky is a director of Wilder International, and in a voluntary capacity affiliated with the European Association of Zoos and Aquariums.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Sally Christine Reynolds, Associate Professor in Hominin Palaeoecology, Bournemouth University
Dinosaur tracks at the Carreras Pampas tracksite in Torotoro National Park.Plos One
Scientists have discovered the single largest dinosaur track site in the world in Carreras Pampa, Torotoro National Park, Bolivia. The tracks were made around 70 million years ago, in the late Cretaceous Period, by theropods – bipedal three-toed dinosaurs – with bird tracks also present in this ancient beach scene.
Over 16,600 footprints and swim traces cover the ancient trackway surface, all heading in the same direction. Swim traces form when floating or swimming animals briefly touch the bottom, often with just their toes making contact. The researchers suggest the traces were made parallel to an ancient shoreline, which preserves beautiful ripple marks.
Modern studies of animals at African water holes and lake margins suggest that herbivores tend to move perpendicular to a shore, moving quickly across the open areas close to a lake. In contrast, carnivores tend to travel parallel to the shore, since this gives them the best chance of intersecting prey.
There are no hard and fast rules here, just general principles, which may or may not apply in this case. Although it is likely that at least some of the traces were made by carnivorous dinosaurs.
Tricky identification
The research was announced in a Plos One paper, which documents 1,321 trackways plus 289 isolated tracks, totalling 16,600 theropod (three-toed) tracks.
They also record 280 “swim” trackways (1,378 swim tracks) and multiple tail traces, with some bird tracks occurring locally alongside the theropod tracks.
These traces can often resemble scratches and are different from the tracks the same animal might make on land. They tell a story of behaviour that is rich in detail.
The site preserves at least a dozen distinct track morphologies (shapes or forms), implying multiple kinds of animals, but the study doesn’t translate those into a specific number of species.
Identifying the species of the trackmakers is difficult for two reasons. First, a single animal can make footprints with different shapes and forms depending on the motion of the foot and the consistency of the underlying ground.
Second, fossil bones are not always found at footprint sites, because the conditions needed for fossil bones to be retained are often different from those needed to preserve footprints.
This makes it harder to identify specific groups or species of dinosaur. The researchers overcome this in the paper by defining “morphotypes”, or put another way, recurring footprints of different types, or forms.
When looking at a track site like this, the number of tracks – and there are lots at this site – does not necessarily equate to the number of animals. One animal moving back and forth across a surface can make lots of tracks. Equally, lots of animals moving once across a surface can leave the same number of tracks.
The find is significant because it captures a range of behaviour from a variety of species. This provides researchers with a window into ancient behaviour, like whether these dinosaurs moved in groups and, potentially, how they foraged and travelled along the stretch of beach.
For example, there is evidence of individual dinosaurs moving in the same direction, which can be due to dinosaurs moving in social groups, performing tasks such as hunting or migrating. However, this phenomenon can also arise because of other factors, such as geographical barriers.
Importantly, the study of the footprints allows researchers to document species that would have occurred together in the landscape during the short time interval when the tracks were forming. This makes the site an archive of an ancient ecosystem, rather than just a single species. Further analysis to yield fascinating insights into the daily lives of the creatures passing along this stretch of shore.
The longest prehistoric trackway made by people, in White Sands National Park (New Mexico), helped us appreciate that one trackmaker on a single journey can make a variety of different types of track based on what they were doing. There could be parallels here with the dinosaur trackway in Bolivia.
Something to ponder as you next walk on a well-trodden beach.
Sally Christine Reynolds 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.
Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tessa Whitehouse, Reader in 18th-century Literature and Director of Queen Mary Centre for Religion and Literature, Queen Mary University of London
Reading is very subjective, but one thing most book lovers can agree on is that 2025 was a notable year for fresh, inventive, affecting storytelling. Books translated from their original language are proving increasingly popular as readers seek out global perspectives beyond their own, as evidenced in this year’s International Booker win, Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq, which is included here.
We also bring you five other novels our academic experts have chosen as their favourites this year. From a Mrs Dalloway for the service economy, to a dreamlike encounter between people across time, place and mortality, do our academic picks chime with yours?
Pick A Colour by Souvankham Thammavongsa
This slender little novel is both a reverie and a dash of icy water to the face that will make you think twice about tuning out from your surroundings next time you get a mani-pedi. We follow the owner of a low-price nail bar through a workday from turning on the fluorescent lights to pulling down the metal shutter.
In this Mrs Dalloway for the service economy, the painful intersections of the personal and the political are inescapable for the “Susans” (the name each employee must adopt), but as invisible as the workers themselves to many of their customers.
Slight in length, light in touch, full of humour, and closely observed, Pick A Colour can be read in a single, intense afternoon. But the troubling thoughts it raises through its memorable characters linger long after your Christmas nail polish has all chipped away.
Tessa Whitehouse is reader in English and director of Queen Mary Centre for Religion and Literature
Perfection by Vincenzo Latronico
Perfection is a curious sort of novel. There is no dialogue and almost no conflict between the two central characters, Anna and Tom, digital nomads who spend their days in Berlin designing websites and always appear together, almost like a single entity.
In a sequence of beautifully written, perfectly observed chapters, Latronico itemises and describes their apartment, their social media habits, their limited perspective on Berlin, their sex life, their futile attempts at meaningful political activism, their growing disillusionment and desire for relocation – the repetitive consumption and socially structured habits of a globalised lifestyle built around image and taste.
The result is a remarkably astute and compelling novel – social realism at its sharpest – as Latronico nails the manners of the millennial generation and that brief period of optimism, from 2006 to 2016, when we felt digital media might make a positive difference and lifestyle choices seemed imbued with an optimistic ethical resonance – soon shown to be hollow.
James Miller is a senior lecturer in creative writing and English literature
Old Soul by Susan Barker
At first, Barker’s novel seems a gorgeously written adaptation of one of my favourite gothic tropes: the vampire. The story opens with two strangers, Jake and Mariko, who meet at Osaka airport. They have both lost loved ones in strange and brutal circumstances but in common, each of the deceased encountered a mysterious, dark-haired woman just before their deaths. A woman who came looking for Mariko, and then disappeared.
As the plot advances, Barker takes familiar tropes and themes in unexpected directions, turning this novel into an unforgettable tale of cosmic horror. There is the terrifying lore of “the Tyrant”, different timelines and settings from Wales to New Mexico, not to mention a cast of unreliable narrators who become more vibrant, twisted and compelling as the novel advances. Ultimately, this is a story about our societal obsession with becoming famous and being seen – Barker’s novel goes a step further and asks: who gets to witness? Who gets to record? And for what purpose?
Inés Gregori Labarta is a lecturer in creative writing
Big Kiss, Bye-Bye by Claire-Louise Bennett
There is no shortage of contemporary novels with first-person narrators who are women, often writers, struggling to keep themselves together in the face of late capitalism, the internet and the patriarchy. Claire-Louise Bennett’s Big Kiss, Bye-Bye is narrated by a woman, a writer, but beyond that, all similarities to other works in this category disappear.
The narrator’s interior world is made up of thoughts about and responses to others – her friend and ex-lover Xavier, her old schoolteacher with whom she had a relationship as a teenager, and another old schoolteacher who has recently emailed her.
It is a novel of extraordinary noticing, but it is a noticing that has such rhythm and intensity that it enters your very bones as you read. It is as unrepeatable as a dream, and like a dream stays with you way beyond the ability of words to account for it.
Leigh Wilson is a professor of English literature
We Do Not Part by Han Kang
The English translation of We Do Not Part followed Han Kang’s 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature. Her earlier Greek Lessons (2011, translated into English 2023) considered loss of sight and speech through the arresting metaphor of burial in snow.
We Do Not Part reconsiders this metaphor, employing the destructive and creative force of a snowstorm to convey the danger of lost histories. Kyungha reluctantly agrees to house sit and look after the much-loved pet bird of her sick friend, Inseon, and travels in snow and darkness to reach her rural cabin.
The novel is at once a dreamlike encounter between people across time, place, and mortality; a recollection of the women’s friendship and childhoods; a personal history of the impact of the 1948-49 Jeju massacre (an intense period of anti-communist violence and suppression that resulted in thousands of deaths); and a portrait of the rural South Korean landscape in bleak winter. The prose is crisp and poetic, the dialogue sparse, and the protagonist introspective and self-questioning. An intelligent, graceful, bruising novel and an encounter with the rural and the local.
Jenni Ramone is an associate professor of postcolonial and global literatures
Heart Lamp by Banu Mushtaq
Delicately woven over a period of 33 years, this collection of 12 short stories comes from the heart of the Muslim community in southern India. Rendered nearly invisible in the nation’s literary imagination despite its substantial presence, Heart Lamp offers a necessary intervention into the silences of Indian Muslim women’s interior lives.
It maps the emotional landscapes and the intricate layers of marginalisation through caste, class and gender expectations embracing the politics of location. Mushtaq, an activist, inevitably represents Karnataka’s “Bandaya Sahitya” (Rebel Literature) movement, rooted in anti-caste, feminist and secular traditions.
The stories juxtapose modern India’s patriarchal structures with the obscured lives of women through literal and metaphorical veils where pain, suffering, injustice are critiqued through razor sharp realism mingled with sentimentality and humour. Deepa Bhasthi’s translation performs its own quiet rebellion, refusing to italicise Kannada words or append footnotes.
Prathiksha Betala is a PhD researcher in contemporary feminist dystopian fiction
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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.
When a doctor can’t find an interpreter, many now reach for Google Translate. It seems like a practical fix to a pressing problem. But a new study warns this quick solution may be putting refugee and migrant patients at serious risk – exposing them to translation errors that could lead to misdiagnosis, wrong treatment or worse.
The study, led by an interdisciplinary team of researchers at the University of Limerick – of which we were part – examined how artificial intelligence (AI) is being used to bridge language gaps between doctors and patients. The findings reveal a troubling pattern: AI translation tools are increasingly replacing human interpreters in GP surgeries, even though none of these apps have been tested for patient safety.
Anyone who has tried to explain themselves across a language barrier knows how easily meaning can slip away. In everyday situations – from the nail salon to the car mechanic – we often manage with gestures, guesses and good humour. But healthcare is different.
Clear communication between a patient and their doctor must be accurate and safe. It is the cornerstone of good medical care, especially when symptoms, risks or treatment decisions are involved, and it allows patients to feel heard and to participate meaningfully in decisions about their own health.
When a patient and doctor do not speak the same language and rely instead on an AI translation app such as Google Translate, communication becomes less certain and more problematic. What appears to be a convenient solution may obscure important details at precisely the moment when clarity matters most.
The recognised standard for cross-cultural communication in healthcare is access to a trained interpreter. The role of an interpreter is to provide impartial support to both the patient and the doctor. However, interpreters are often inaccessible in practice, due to availability, time pressures and limited resources in general practice.
Consequently, doctors report that they increasingly turn to the device in their pocket – their phone – as a quick, improvised solution to bridge communication gaps during consultations. Google Translate is now being used as an interpreter substitute, despite not being designed for medical communication.
My colleagues and I examined international studies from 2017 to 2024 and found no evidence that an AI-powered tool can safely support the live, back-and-forth medical conversations needed in clinical consultations.
In all the studies we reviewed, doctors relied on Google Translate, and they consistently raised concerns about its limitations. These included inaccurate translations, failure to recognise medical terminology and the inability to handle conversations that unfold over multiple turns.
The studies reported translation errors that risk misdiagnosis, inappropriate treatment and, in some cases, serious harm. Worryingly, the research found no evidence that Google Translate has ever been tested for patient safety in general practice.
In other studies, Google Translate was shown to misinterpret key medical words and phrases. Terms such as congestion, drinking, feeding, gestation, vagina and other reproductive organs were sometimes mistranslated in certain languages.
It also misinterpreted pronouns, numbers and gender, and struggled with dialects or accents, leading to confusing or inaccurate substitutions. Alarmingly, researchers also reported “hallucinations” – where the app produced fluent-sounding but entirely fabricated text.
Relying on Google Translate to support doctor-patient communication carries the risk of displacing human interpreters and creating an overdependence on AI tools that were not designed for medical interpretation. It also normalises the use of AI apps that have not undergone the safety testing expected of healthcare technologies.
It is difficult to imagine any other area of medical practice where such an untested approach would be considered acceptable.
The study found that refugee and migrant advocates prefer human interpreters, particularly in maternal healthcare and mental health. Patients also raised concerns about consenting to the use of AI and about where their personal information might be stored and how it might be used.
To deliver safe healthcare to refugees and migrants, doctors should ensure that patients have access to trained interpreters, whether in person, by video, or by phone. Clear instructions for accessing these interpreters must be available in every healthcare setting so that staff can arrange support quickly and confidently.
The evidence shows that AI tools not specifically designed and tested for medical interpreting should no longer be used, as they cannot yet provide safe or reliable communication in clinical situations.
The Conversation asked Google to comment on the issues raised by this article but received no reply.
Anthony Kelly receives funding from Innovation Fund Denmark.
Anne Cronin 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.
With Something Good, the arts and culture newsletter from The Conversation, we aim to cut through the noise and recommend the very best in new releases every fortnight. And what a soundtrack this year’s newsletters have had. From Lily Allen’s devastating breakup album West End Girl to Rosalía’s genre-defying LUX, these are the best albums of 2025 according to our academic experts.
1. Teal Dreams by Yazmin Lacey
Yazmin Lacey’s second album, Teal Dreams, builds on her well-received multi-genre debut, Voice Notes (2023). Featuring a more confident and developed sound, this album is a rich blending of roots and soul. The Londoner’s vocal delivery spans a range of emotional registers, exploring themes of growth and renewal throughout.
There are beautiful, melodic moments aplenty. From the slow-burn build of Grace to the sassy swagger of Crutch, all reward repeated listening.
Ain’t I Good For You by Yazmin Lacey.
On Ribbons, Lacey addresses personal loss, expressing feelings of change and longing, declaring she’s “not the same Yazmin”, “misses your big ideas” and wants “to talk about love and fear”.
Meanwhile her 2024 collaboration with Ezra Collective, God Gave Me Feet For Dancing, continues with the grooviness of Ain’t I Good For You. The song and album serve as an open invitation to dive in and enjoy the reflective beauty Lacey offers.
Hussein Boon is chair of the Black Music Research Unit
2. The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy by Lamp of Murmuur
The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy is one of 2025’s most striking extreme-metal releases. Not just because it blends black metal with psychedelic tones reminiscent of David Bowie, but because it plays with the genre’s emotional architecture in unusually vulnerable ways.
Under the swirling tremolo and gothic theatrics sits an affective register closer to yearning than nihilism. The album leans into a kind of decadent, romantic masculinity, accentuated by the complete anonymity of the band’s members, and refusal to confirm to normative maleness in the genre.
The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy by Lamp of Murmuur.
For researchers like me who study men and masculinities, it’s a compelling artifact: a reminder that subcultural performance is never just noise, but a way of working through desire, fantasy and the uneasy labour of feeling.
In a music scene often caricatured as hostile or hypermasculine, The Dreaming Prince in Ecstasy offers a glimpse of what happens when intensity becomes a mode of introspection rather than domination.
Chris Waugh is a lecturer in Criminology & Sociology
3. LUX by Rosalía
For anyone unfamiliar with Rosalía’s journey from flamenco experimentalist to global pop innovator, LUX might seem like a bold leap – yet its seeds were always there. A heartfelt offering of avant-garde classical pop, sung across 13 languages, this record feels both operatic and immediate, expansive yet relatable.
Berghain by Rosalía.
What’s most impressive is the album’s sheer conceptual depth, weaving together romance, divinity and gender without ever feeling academic or inaccessible. Drawing on historic figures such as the German Benedictine abbess and philosopher Hildegard von Bingen (1089-1179) and Taoist master Sun Bu’er (1119-1182), the record situates contemporary pop within a lineage of female mysticism and intellectual devotion. Yet songs like La Perla bring the album back to earth with cutting lyricism that feels instantly resonant.
It’s rare to hear pop music this conceptually daring become such a commercial and critical force, but this success feels wholly earned.
Eva Dieteren is a PhD researcher in gender and popular music
From the dual tin whistle strains of Welcome To My Mountain, the opening song from Junior Brother’s startling third album The End, you quickly realise that this is a greeting of a different kind.
There are musical references; a touch of Richard Thompson here, a flash of Kate Bush there, but Kealy is more closely aligned with the singular songwriting styles of John Spillane, Jinx Lennon, Lisa O’ Neill and Seamus Fogarty.
This is an astonishing record. It demands the attention of the listener, and rewards with each repeated listen.
Stephen Ryan is course director for the MA in songwriting
5. Rainy Sunday Afternoon by The Divine Comedy
The Divine Comedy’s mastermind Neil Hannon brings his unique blend of upbeat poppy tunes and romantic melancholia to the band’s 13th studio album, Rainy Sunday Afternoon. And it reminds us that he really is one of the great songwriters, with a range so impressive that he can turn effortlessly from the achingly beautiful (Achilles and I Want You) to scathing, witty satire (Mar-a-Lago by the Sea) via the sparkling Christmas song All the Pretty Lights.
Achilles by The Divine Comedy.
No, Hannon may never again see the commercial heights of National Express, a song The Guardian describes as his “worst song and greatest hit”, and nor may he wish to. After three decades in the business, Hannon is doing something much more valuable: writing emotive, catchy songs which continue to connect with people.
Glenn Fosbraey is an associate dean of humanities and social sciences
6. You Are Safe From God Here by The Acacia Strain
With the 13th album of their career, The Acacia Strain have released one of their most dense and uncompromising records to date. You Are Safe From God Here combines riff and drum brutality and crushing lyrical passages.
Most of the tracks are around two minutes long, giving the album a relentless, all-killer-no-filler directness. This is then contrasted by the colossal closing song Eucharis II: Blood Loss, which spans 14 minutes. It’s a hypnotic and bleak descent and unforgettable album closer.
A Call Beyond by The Acacia Strain.
Lyrically, the album dives into themes of isolation, depression and a “dark fantasy” of visions of an uncaring and predatory god. The album performance feels venomous and emotionally exposed – channelling both rage and despair. The result is an album that is not only sonically devastating but also emotionally overwhelming.
While less accessible to its predecessors, You Are Safe From God Here is more atmospheric and brutal. A harrowing, standout chapter in The Acacia Strain’s evolution as a band and rightly a top contender for album of the year in the metal scene. Ultimately, the album lives up to its name: in the depths that The Acacia Strain explore on this record, you really are safe from god.
Douglas Schulz is a lecturer in sociology and criminology
7. West End Girl by Lily Allen
Lily Allen returned to making music after seven years in October – and redefined the breakup album in the process. Written and recorded over just ten days, West End Girl is a concept album that fictionalises Allen’s journey from her casting in the play 2:22 – A Ghost Story, through to her eventual break up with her ex-husband, American actor David Harbour.
West End Girl by Lily Allen.
Lyrical rawness is the essence of this album, with Allen refusing to hold anything back in articulating her feelings towards an ex and their alleged secret lover, referred to on the album as “Madeline”. In this fictionalisation of events Allen calls the ex a sex addict and shares her discomfort with his alleged request for an open relationship with brutal honesty.
Musically Allen reasserts herself, reminding us of her influence on younger artists such as PinkPantheress and Charli XCX through her vocal and musical delivery, and by packing her lyrics full of contemporary and relatable cultural references.
In the space of four years, PinkPantheress has gone from producing songs on GarageBand in her university halls of residence to an award-winning international artist. Not bad for a 24-year-old from Bath who became a viral TikTok sensation after posting faceless snippets of her songs.
Stateside by PinkPantheress.
Her latest album, Fancy That is ridiculously brief, but filled with bubble gum earworms and sweetly sung bops. PinkPantheress’s breathy falsetto combines with her lullaby lyrics about gen-Z life to showcase her as an extremely gifted songwriter and producer. More disco babe than Brat, Fancy That is the soundtrack to a party where everyone is invited.
Like Jim Legxacy’s mixtape Black British Music (also released this year), there is a sense of anemoia – a yearning for a time that you did not experience – that comes with Fancy That. The deep rolling 80s electronic bass of Stateside. The electronic chords of Illegal. The rave-like Girl Like Me. This trademark gen-Z hybridity should produce a sound that is cacophonic; however, the genres of drum and bass, house, garage, jungle and electronic pop coalesce to produce something that sounds fresh and new.
Julia Toppin is a senior lecturer in music enterprise and entrepreneurship
9. Let God Sort Em Out by Clipse (July)
Advances in music technology have allowed artists such as Billie Eilish and Lil Nas X to create huge hits outside of conventional studios, using DIY home recording set-ups. But Clipse’s new album — the first in 16 years from brothers Gene “Malice” and Terrence “Pusha T” Thornton — must be the first to be recorded within the headquarters of a fashion mega-brand.
Chains & Whips by Clipse and Kendrick Lamar.
Producer Pharrell Williams oversaw Let God Sort Em Out while serving as Louis Vuitton’s creative director, using a custom-built studio in their Paris headquarters. The luxurious setting seems to influence the sound: the hard-hitting percussive edge of earlier Clipse recordings gives way to woozier, synth-laden beats, exemplified by the hypnotically off-kilter P.O.V.
Clipse are pioneers of “coke rap”, and there are still plenty of bars here that engagingly recount their triumphs and near-misses in the drug trade. Now in their 50s, though, their lyrics also explore broader themes: The Birds Don’t Sing honours their recently deceased parents, while closing track By The Grace of God reflects on the improbable longevity of their careers.
Ellis Jones is a lecturer in music and management
10. Non Fiction: Piano Concerto in Four Movements by Hania Rani
Polish neo-minimalist composer and singer Hania Rani has collaborated with the Manchester Collective and improvisers Valentina Magaletti and Jack Wyllie to record her most ambitious work yet, Non Fiction.
IV. Semplice by Hania Rani, Manchester Collective, Jack Wyllie and Hugh Tieppo-Brunt.
The album was inspired by the work of Jewish child prodigy Josimah Feldschuh. Feldschuh made her concert debut in the Warsaw Ghetto just before the second world war at the age of 11. There, she also began to write her own music. She died of tuberculosis just outside of Warsaw at the age of 13, having fled the ghetto with her family. Only 17 of Feldschuh’s compositions survived.
Inspired, Rani set about writing and recording Non Fiction. However, the project’s focus was soon unsettled by more recent horrors: Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, and Israel’s invasion of Gaza after the October 7 attacks. Rani perceived similarities between images of Gaza’s destruction shared online, and photographs of Warsaw’s destruction during the second world war.
The result is an instrumental album of scope and depth. Non Fiction stands as a reflection on war and brutality that allows just enough grace, tenderness and humanity to keep us hopeful.
Andrew Green is a lecturer in the anthropology of music
What was your favourite album of 2025? Let us know in the comments below.
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.
Samuel Murray is affiliated with the Musicians’ Union and a writer member of PRS for Music.
Andrew J. Green, Chris Waugh, Douglas Schulz, Ellis Jones, Eva Dieteren, Glenn Fosbraey, Hussein Boon, Julia Toppin, and Stephen Ryan 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.
In no particular order, here are The Conversation’s top five films of 2025 as reviewed by our experts.
1. One Battle After Another
The latest film from director Paul Thomas Anderson follows Bob (Leonardo DiCaprio), an ageing hippie hero and a relic of a fictional noughties brigade, the French 75. Led by his lover Perfidia Beverley Hills (Teyana Taylor), they robbed banks, bombed buildings and liberated detention centres in the name of their ideology of “free borders, free choices, free from fear”.
Left to bring up their daughter, Willa (Chase Infiniti), Bob spends his days off-grid unshaven, smoking weed. All is (somewhat) well until the brutal army veteran, Colonel Lockjaw (Sean Penn), who believes himself to be Willa’s real father, barrels back into their lives in pursuit of his “daughter”.
It is at heart a family melodrama, drawing on the classic tropes of bad versus good father and conflicted mother, questioning the legitimacy of the family unit. On to these narratives bones, Anderson grafts a vision of a post-Obama America in thrall to shadowy corporate interests, a legacy of rounding up and deporting immigrants, and an old white male order hell-bent on its own agenda of personal revenge.
After the lights have gone up, it may well be that what stays with you most is its terrifying imagery of detention centres and the horror of immigrant round-ups. It is this certainly that led Steven Spielberg to acclaim “this insane movie” as more relevant than Anderson could ever have imagined.
Ruth Barton, Fellow Emeritus in Film Studies at Trinity College Dublin
2. Sinners
Sinners is set in Jim Crow-era Mississippi, a time of harsh segregation and racial injustice. It follows Sammie (Miles Caton), a young Black guitar player, who gets his big break when his cousins, the gangster twins Smoke and Stack (both played by Michael B. Jordan), return to open a juke joint in their hometown. This new venture brings money, music and a sort of freedom but also danger to their door.
On the juke joint’s opening night, Sammie’s blues music draws the Irishman Remmick (Jack O’Connell) to the bar. But Remmick is no average man, he’s a vampire.
Remmick uses his own song, The Rocky Road to Dublin to invite the Black patrons to join him and the others he has turned into vampires, offering them the chance to escape Jim Crow Mississippi. The song he chooses, although catchy, is a story of exchanging one form of suffering (life in Ireland during the height of English oppression) for another – life on the English mainland where the ballad tells of victimisation and violence. This is one of many moment where the real stories of Irish and Indigenous Choctaw oppression are used in the film to draw connection between oppressed people and the stories they tell and were told.
Such nuance within the film meant that I watched it several times and gained more insight and enjoyment with each viewing.
By Rachel Stuart, Senior Lecturer in Criminology and Deviant Identities at Brunel
3. A Real Pain
We are constantly confronted by history. The history of our cultures and traditions. Of our families. Of our own personal relationships. Can we – or should we seek to – ever escape the tightly woven net of our preoccupation with our past?
Jesse Eisenberg explores these questions with curiosity, humour and insight in the lightly plotted, semi-road movie, A Real Pain.
David (Eisenberg) and Benji (Kieran Culkin) are 40-something cousins, who are reunited for a trip to Poland in memory of their recently deceased grandmother, a Holocaust survivor with whom both, especially Benji, were very close.
The tourist group perform their Jewishness within unstated yet acknowledged limits to their engagement– with Poland, with Jewish history, with each other and indeed with themselves. Within this muted, routinised remembrance culture, Benji’s unpredictable behaviour starts to detonate small outbreaks of “real pain”, which are annoying and upsetting in equal measure.
What “pain” should take precedence? That of the violently amputated cultural history to which its inheritors feel a moral duty of remembrance? Or the ongoing needs and demands of the present, which cannot linger indefinitely in history’s dark shadow. The great strength of Eisenberg’s subtle, understated film is to pose such questions without suggesting, let alone imposing, facile answers.
By Barry Langford, Professor of Film Studies at Royal Holloway, University of London
4. Sorry, Baby
Sorry, Baby is the directorial debut of its writer and star, Eva Victor. The film follows Agnes (Victor), an English professor at a small American college, in the aftermath of a sexual assault by one of her teachers when she was a student there.
The story, based on Victor’s own experience of trauma, is structured in non-linear chapters encompassing the time after, before and during the assault. The result is a raw and unflinching, yet nuanced, depiction of trauma’s aftermath, which presents Agnes as a fully rounded and complex character.
Sorry, Baby resists the idea that trauma must define a character’s identity. Instead, the film explores how people live with, around and beyond painful experiences. Agnes carries trauma with her, but moves forward with hurt, joy, and desire – alive with humour and contradiction.
This debut marks Victor as a distinctive voice in contemporary cinema, one who trusts her characters and her audience alike. With Sorry, Baby, Victor shows us a new way to tell stories about trauma, healing, and the small, vital moments in between. This is a filmmaker to watch.
Laura O’Flanagan, PhD Candidate in the School of English at Dublin City University
5. Weapons
The film opens with the chilling premise of 17 children from the same classroom vanishing without a trace, leaving behind only grainy security footage of them running with their arms outstretched, like little planes. However, the true horror unfolds as the community of Maybrook – a small town in Pennsylvania – spirals into chaos instead of unity.
Parents accuse teachers, neighbours distrust one another and innocent lives are upended in the search for a culprit. This breakdown is grounded in psychological research, showcasing how human behaviour can deteriorate under pressure.
Social identity theory is a scientific concept that theorises that your brain is wired to compartmentalise the world into “us” (those we consider good) and “them” (those perceived as threats). This process intensifies when people face fear or stress.
In Weapons, we see this theory in action as the community dismantles itself. Teacher Justine Gandy (Julia Garner) becomes an easy target, not due to concrete evidence, but because she fits neatly into the role of the other – “them”. The parents of the missing children seek someone to vilify, and she becomes the scapegoat of their fears.
Weapons succeeds as horror because it doesn’t rely on supernatural monsters or gore. Instead, it shows us the real monsters – the ones we become when our psychology works exactly the way evolution has led it to.
Edward White, PhD Candidate in Psychology at Kingston University
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.
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.
Luxury pet pampering packages at hotels, menus with dog-friendly roast dinners and £6,000 animal-friendly charter flights. Pet travel isn’t just a trend, it’s something of a transformation. This is the “pawprint economy” – and it’s booming.
Globally, the pet industry is projected to reach US$500 billion (£375 billion) by 2030, with pet travel services alone expected to be valued at US$5.9 billion by 2034. In the UK, where 60% of households have pets – including roughly 13.5 million dogs – that’s a substantial market.
People travel with their pets for leisure, business, relocation and specialist care. And while some people even travel with horses, cats, birds or other small animals, it’s dogs that dominate the leisure travel surge. For people who enjoy travelling with their pets, the benefits are real for both parties: strengthened bonds, shared experiences and opportunities to build skills and confidence.
But there’s a growing gap between what the industry is offering and what people and pets need. As this market explodes, it’s a good time to ask whether the travel industry is genuinely adapting or just coming up with superficial offerings.
While humans and dogs have travelled together for millennia, today’s growth reflects something distinctly modern: pets are now family members. With 40% of people viewing their dog as their child and nearly half calling them their best friend, dogs occupy a central place in millions of UK homes.
During COVID restrictions, pet acquisition surged globally. Today nearly half of “pet parents” are first timers. The years since COVID emerged have seen an acceleration in the inclusion of pets in leisure life, from dog-friendly cafes to outdoor festivals, paddleboarding and holidays.
Even cost-of-living pressures haven’t dampened this enthusiasm. While 34% of people who have pets have altered their pet-related behaviour due to financial pressures (changing to a cheaper brand of pet food, for example), pet travel continues to grow. UK pet families take an average of two domestic holidays every year with their animals.
Here’s where the disconnect emerges. While providers advertise “pawsecco” and pet spas, research has shown that people prioritise practical care over “extras”.
Studies identify six key attributes that people are looking for: service design (pet-friendly room placement, shared dining), activity support (walking guides, bins), safety, pet-savvy staff, transparent policies with fair fees, and lastly, amenities. This is a low priority for travellers with pets, but often what providers focus on. Crucially, green spaces drive pet travel planning, boosting wellbeing for both human and animal. After all, this is the fundamental reason why people choose to travel with pets.
Love me, love my pet
Yet many people with pets say they don’t believe any accommodation is truly pet friendly, signalling a trust gap. Many properties advertise as “pet friendly” but impose restrictions, surprise fees or go no further than simply allowing pets to stay.
Part of the problem seems to be one-size-fits-all thinking. Research identifies three distinct segments of people travelling with dogs. There are those seeking basic, convenience-focused accommodation. Premium experience seekers are willing to pay for luxury. And activity-loving travellers prioritise outdoor adventures. A chihuahua on a city break has different needs to a labrador on a hiking trip, yet many providers offer generic packages that delight no one.
The evidence from both researchers and industry is clear: people will pay more to travel with their pets. For tourism providers, the opportunities are significant. For example, hotel pet fees in the UK can range from £15-40 daily or £20-75 per stay. Being viewed as pet friendly can drive repeat visits and brand loyalty for travel-related providers and dining outlets.
But there’s one area where UK travellers seem to be less enthusiastic. When it comes to overseas travel, 54% are “very unlikely” to go abroad with their pet (compared to 37% globally). Only 7% actually have plans to do so. This hesitancy is probably driven by complicated, costly regulations and rules.
Eurostar bans pets on its trains and UK aviation regulations effectively prohibit pets in the cabin on inbound flights, with few airlines offering cabin options outbound. Most pets must fly as cargo in the hold, which often causes worry for their humans.
Brexit also ended the UK’s access to the EU pet passport system, requiring expensive animal health certificates for each trip. A 2025 UK-EU agreement will eventually see the reinstatement of pet passports, however.
The UK dog travel market is heavily skewed towards domestic holidays, with travellers largely preferring coastal retreats and rural escapes, prioritising walks and eating out. This presents clear opportunities for domestic providers to capture demand, and for travellers to choose more environmentally friendly, sustainable destinations closer to home.
The travel industry in the UK and beyond faces a choice: continue offering superficial “pet-friendly” experiences or genuinely adapt and ease the stress for travellers and their pets.
The evidence shows that pet-centric facilities, support with activities, and attentive service outweigh add-ons. Delivering this means providing transparent online information so travellers can assess facilities and policies confidently, designing spaces that genuinely welcome pets, and training staff to deliver a knowledgeable service.
The appetite for pet travel is overwhelming and the pawprint economy represents a huge business opportunity, if accommodation, travel and leisure providers are willing to prioritise genuine pet friendliness. After all, if the hospitality industry makes pets and their people happy, they will come back for more – with smiles and tails wagging.
Lori Hoy 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.
As daylight shortens and routines slow down, many people experience a
dip in mood and motivation. The run-up to Christmas is marketed as joyful, but for a large number of households it brings family strain and a surprising amount of loneliness. Against this backdrop, it’s no wonder the idea of welcoming a dog into the home feels appealing.
One of the most consistent findings in human–animal studies is that dogs often act as emotional stabilisers. In my 2025 study, pet owners described a sense of companionship that feels different from human relationships. They talked about dogs as warm presences that offer routine, purpose and a steady emotional tone at home.
Many participants said that when a dog is present, expressing emotions becomes easier – whether that is joy, frustration or sadness. Simply having another living being nearby, responding without judgment, can make difficult moments feel more manageable.
These needs often intensify during winter. For many people, this period makes them think about who isn’t present as much as who is. Although a dog cannot replace human relationships, a companion animal can make emotional fluctuations less dramatic. For someone dealing with a difficult December, a dog can provide steadiness during what can otherwise be an emotionally uneven month.
This helps explain the growing popularity of initiatives such as animal-assisted therapy programmes and puppy yoga sessions, where participants interact with dogs that are not their own. Research suggests that even brief contact with unfamiliar or therapy dogs can reduce stress and improve mood, indicating that the psychological benefits of canine interaction do not depend on ownership.
Some studies also suggest that dogs may be particularly effective in buffering stress compared with other companion animals, possibly because of their responsiveness to human social cues. Although these experiences are not a substitute for long-term companionship, they may offer moments of calm, connection and routine.
For people unable or unwilling to commit to dog ownership, lighter forms of contact, such as fostering for a local shelter, walking a friend’s dog or volunteering with rescue organisations, may still provide psychological benefits.
Dogs and social support
During the COVID lockdowns, people who felt strongly bonded to their dogs often reported higher levels of perceived social support. While the dog wasn’t solving practical problems, this relationship appeared to soften feelings of isolation at a time when normal social life was disrupted.
Although the circumstances were very specific, this finding has wider relevance. Many people spend long stretches at home over the Christmas period, sometimes largely alone or without regular social contact. In such situations, having a dog nearby can offer a sense of companionship during what might otherwise be extended periods indoors.
Research shows that dog owners often experience short social encounters while out walking: brief greetings from neighbours, light conversation with other dog owners, or acknowledgement from passersby. These interactions are usually quick, but they can help maintain a sense of belonging during winter, when daylight is short and social activity naturally slows.
Not every owner will have the same experience, and caring for a dog requires time, energy and resources. Even so, for some households, the presence of a dog can make the winter months feel less isolating than they might otherwise be.
The emotional benefits of companion animals may be particularly relevant for older
adults, many of whom live alone. Loneliness in later life is associated with higher risks of depression, cognitive decline and cardiovascular disease. Here, companion animals can play a modest but important role. Everyday routines such as feeding, grooming and going outdoors with a dog provide structure to the day and encourage gentle physical activity.
Even short outings can increase light exposure and offer low-pressure
opportunities for social contact – two elements known to support wellbeing in later life. Exposure to natural daylight plays a key role in regulating circadian rhythms, which influence sleep, mood and energy levels.
Outdoor light is more intense than typical indoor lighting, even on overcast days, and is more effective at signalling to the brain when to be alert and when to rest. In adults, reduced daylight exposure is associated with sleep disruption and lower mood, particularly during winter months when days are shorter.
Being greeted at the door or having a dog settle beside the armchair does not replace human company, but it can provide a daily sense of being noticed and needed. Some studies suggest that interacting with a familiar dog can help regulate stress and promote feelings of calm. While these effects should not be overstated, they help explain why many older adults describe their animals as central to their emotional wellbeing.
But research also indicates there is an important caveat: emotional benefits are most likely to grow out of stable, long-term relationships. When dogs are adopted impulsively, that foundation may never develop.
Puppies require training, patience – and early-morning wake-ups. Adult dogs may come with behavioural histories that take time to understand. And all dogs bring financial responsibilities, from vet bills to insurance and food, that continue long after decorations are packed away. These realities are often overlooked in the excitement of December.
But for those prepared to take on the responsibility, a dog can offer far more than a fleeting festive moment. It can provide years of connection and companionship long after the Christmas lights fade.
Panagiota Tragantzopoulou 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.
Christmas can be hard. For some people, it increases loneliness, grief, hopelessness and family tension, and the festive season has a way of turning ordinary concerns into urgent ones. Not because something terrible is guaranteed to happen, but because more is often at stake: money, time, family dynamics, travel and expectations.
A large study found a small but consistent dip in people’s wellbeing in the run-up to Christmas. One psychological process that often shows up under this pressure is worry.
It helps to separate worry from anxiety, because although they feel similar, they are not the same. Worry is mostly a thought process, often taking the form of “what if” questions such as “what if I don’t make everyone happy?” or “what if the cooking goes wrong?”. It tends to be negative and focused on the future.
Christmas can feel like a lot but there are ways to cope with the worry. Marian Weyo/Shutterstock
Anxiety, by contrast, is the body’s threat system revving up. People may experience it as tension, dread, a racing heart or a churning stomach. But there is another part of worry that is particularly important. The issue is rarely the first “what if” thought. It is what happens next.
A psychological approach called metacognitive therapy focuses on the beliefs people hold about worrying itself. These beliefs can quietly determine whether worry passes quickly or turns into a long spiral.
Some beliefs sound reassuring or even helpful. Research has identified positive beliefs such as “worrying helps me prepare”, “worrying stops bad things from happening”, or “worrying shows I care”.
Others are more openly distressing. Negative beliefs include thoughts such as “my worrying is uncontrollable” or “my worrying is dangerous”.
Together, these beliefs can keep worry going by making it feel urgent, important and impossible to step away from.
When worry feels urgent and uncontrollable, people often try to manage it in ways that backfire: answering one “what if” with another, seeking repeated reassurance, misusing alcohol, or trying to block thoughts altogether.
Interrupting the worry pattern
One way to interrupt this pattern is to catch worry early and picture it as a text message.
A worry thought arrives like a message on your phone: What if the dinner goes wrong? What if they spoil things? What if they are disappointed with the gift?
You did not choose for the message to arrive. Thoughts often appear automatically. But the message contains a link and invites you to click on it. Clicking the link leads to prolonged worrying, rising anxiety and attempts to solve unsolvable problems at 2am.
The key point is this: you may not control which messages arrive, but you can learn not to click every link. That is the most controllable part of worry.
A technique designed to do this is called “worry postponement”, and it is more evidence based than it sounds. Studies and reviews show that postponing worry, or confining it to a specific time window, can reduce overall worry levels.
The idea is simple. You are postponing engagement with worry, not pretending it is not there. Pick a daily “worry slot” that is not just before bed. Five to ten minutes is enough.
When a worry message arrives outside that window, do something small but deliberate: notice it, name it as worry, and postpone it. For example: “That’s a worry message. I’ll deal with it at 7.30pm.” If it returns later, do the same again: notice, name, postpone.
When 7.30pm arrives, you can engage with the worry if you choose, but only for the agreed time.
Many people forget to use the slot at all, or find that after a day of postponing worry they feel less motivated to start worrying. Evidence suggests that learning to control your response to worry reduces its power.
Another helpful step is questioning beliefs about the usefulness of worry.
Worry often masquerades as protection. It can feel like it prevents disappointment, shows how much you care, or keeps bad things from happening.
One study found that over 90% of people’s worries, as logged day to day, did not come true.
Even when the issue is real, such as money or a difficult family situation, worry is not the same as dealing with the problem. Studies suggest that getting stuck in worry can make people less clear, less confident and more anxious than approaching the issue in a practical, step-by-step way:
If the task is preparation, planning works better than worrying.
If the task is avoiding conflict, setting a boundary is more effective than worrying.
If the task is showing care, actions matter more than worry.
Reframing these beliefs as another kind of scam message can make worry feel less convincing and less worth clicking on.
Christmas can be a difficult time, with heightened pressures and expectations. Learning not to click every worry link can make it more manageable. It is a skill for life, not just for Christmas.
Robin Bailey 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.
