EPA is sidelining its independent chemical referee – and that endangers public health

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By H. Christopher Frey, Professor of Environmental Engineering, North Carolina State University

For decades, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency has relied on an independent scientific program to answer two basic questions when chemicals come up for review: Does the chemical pose a threat to human health? If so, how much exposure is necessary before it becomes a problem?

The scientists involved in that program, known as the Integrated Risk Information System, or IRIS, served as neutral scientific referees.

Now, the Trump administration is dismantling the program and moving the scientific assessment role to policy offices, opening the door for political pressure. The administration is also making it easier for past IRIS assessments to be revisited or overturned.

This change is not merely bureaucratic: It reshapes whether future assessments of chemical dangers will be ignored, delayed by time-consuming legal fights, or understated by the federal government, potentially with real consequences for public health.

Numerous chemicals are hazardous to human health. For example, ethylene oxide is used to sterilize medical equipment. However, studies show ethylene oxide poses elevated cancer risks to people who live near facilities that release it. Chromium‑VI, used as a corrosion inhibitor and for metal finishing, can contaminate drinking water. Made famous by the Erin Brockovich case, it has been linked to cancer and other adverse health effects. Formaldehyde, found in building materials and household products, has long raised concerns about cancer and respiratory disease.

EPA scientists assessed each of these chemicals through the IRIS program. Now, the IRIS program itself, as well as many of its formal assessments of over 550 chemicals developed over four decades, is being challenged under the Trump administration.

What IRIS did – and what it didn’t do

In any high‑stakes game, the referee enforces the rules so the outcome rests on the facts, not on who shouts the loudest or has the most at stake.

IRIS played that role for chemical safety. It was part of the EPA’s Office of Research and Development, which was recently dismantled by the Trump administration. Its scientists assessed whether chemicals cause harm and weighed how health risks changed with a person’s increasing exposure to the chemical. These scientists did not estimate real‑world exposures, decide acceptable risk or make regulatory choices. Those functions were handled in policy offices.

I have worked with IRIS assessments from multiple perspectives — as a professor of environmental engineering, as a reviewer for the National Academies and EPA science advisory processes, and as assistant administrator of EPA’s Office of Research and Development from 2022 to 2024, where I oversaw the IRIS program.

IRIS assessments were written by EPA scientists and rigorously reviewed by independent external peer reviewers with experience in each specific chemical. The assessments have been used across EPA programs and by states, local governments and tribes, and internationally. Industry representatives, environmental groups, other federal agencies and members of the public all had opportunities to comment on the drafts of assessments before they were finalized.

A scientist in a white coat works in a lab.
A scientist prepares samples while doing research on PFAS at a U.S. Environmental Protection Agency lab. Understanding of chemicals’ risks has been built on IRIS assessments.
AP Photo/Joshua A. Bickel

When disagreements arose over IRIS assessments, independent scientific experts were asked to weigh the evidence and advise the EPA on how to move forward. That process, relying on scientists, not stakeholders, was meant to ensure that scientific judgments were grounded in evidence, not in policy preferences or financial interests.

The actual policy decisions to regulate chemicals were made elsewhere, by EPA officials and, in some cases, by states or other jurisdictions. IRIS provided the scientific foundation so those decisions could be informed by an evidence‑based understanding of chemical hazards.

IRIS assessments effectively set the standard for assessing chemical hazards internationally. Other agencies and countries rely on IRIS assessments precisely because they are comprehensive, transparent and independently reviewed.

Why critics wanted IRIS dismantled

That track record matters.

Some industry‑aligned organizations have argued that IRIS assessments are flawed or biased and have called for eliminating the program.

However, independent scientific reviews have repeatedly examined these concerns and found that IRIS methods reflect the current state of the science and have strengthened in rigor, transparency and consistency over time.

It’s true that IRIS assessments often took years to complete, but that was because extensive interagency review and limited staffing slowed the pace at which assessments could inform regulatory decisions. Delay is not the same as poor science.

What changes when the referee disappears?

With IRIS eliminated as an independent program, chemical hazard assessments will be overseen by regulatory offices that also weigh economic impacts, legal risk and policy priorities.

When scientific assessments are developed within offices responsible for policy decisions, it becomes harder to maintain a clear separation between evaluating evidence and weighing its regulatory consequences. That separation has historically helped ensure that scientific conclusions are grounded in evidence alone.

Courts generally give weight to agency expertise when decisions are supported by a clear and well‑documented scientific record. However, when agencies fail to clearly explain how the evidence supports their decisions, including when agencies depart from their own scientific assessments, courts can block those decisions under the Administrative Procedure Act or other laws, such as the Clean Air Act.

The result can be prolonged litigation and delays in developing or implementing regulations, with consequences for public health.

How communities are affected

Industries have long challenged scientific findings that show their products can cause harm – from tobacco smoke to particulate air pollution and greenhouse gas emissions from fossil fuels.

When public health is at stake, I believe independent referees are essential to ensure that facts are determined by evidence, not by the industries that would benefit. Shifting away from independent scientific review risks undermining that foundation.

The Conversation

I served as Deputy Assistant Administrator for Science Policy at the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency from 2021 to 2022, and as Assistant Administrator for Research and Development at the U.S. EPA from 2022 to 2024.

ref. EPA is sidelining its independent chemical referee – and that endangers public health – https://theconversation.com/epa-is-sidelining-its-independent-chemical-referee-and-that-endangers-public-health-283120

For the first time in a decade, the next election could be less secure than the one preceding it

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Scott Shackelford, Professor of Business Law and Ethics, Indiana University

The Election Security Group turns intelligence about foreign election threats into warnings and offensive operations. Charly Triballeau/AFP via Getty Images

With the 2026 midterms less than six months away, the Election Security Group would normally be busy helping prepare the nation’s election infrastructure. The federal task force typically briefs Congress on upcoming threats and engages with state and local leaders to game out scenarios ranging from ransomware to critical infrastructure attacks on Election Day.

But Gen. Joshua Rudd, director of the National Security Agency and commander of the U.S. Cyber Command – the two agencies that jointly run the Election Security Group – told the Senate Armed Services Committee on April 28, 2026, that he didn’t know whether the group had been set up yet. The Election Security Group has worked every federal election cycle since 2018, but, as of mid-May, there is no public indication it has been activated.

This pending Election Security Group activation follows the Trump administration’s 2025 decision to defund the Elections Infrastructure Information Sharing and Analysis Center, the threat-sharing hub that helped make 2024 the most cyber-secure election in U.S. history, according to the Center for Internet Security, a nonprofit focused on protecting against digital threats. A White House spokesperson said of the cuts at the time that EI-ISAC’s work no longer effectuated the priorities of the Department of Homeland Security.

These losses – and the disbanding of other federal offices that counter foreign influence operations – make it harder for local officials to learn of threats to election infrastructure, like AI-enabled targeting of voting tabulation systems or deepfakes of candidates. Little is known about whether the proactive cyber deterrence that has defined U.S. elections for much of the past decade remains in place in any other form.

I’m a scholar of global efforts to secure democracy, and I co-edited a book called “Securing Democracies” about cyberattacks and disinformation worldwide. I can attest to the importance of guarding against foreign efforts to undermine trust in U.S. elections and believe that, without groups like the EI-ISAC and the Election Security Group in place, the 2026 midterms could mark a milestone: For the first time in perhaps a decade, the next election may be less secure than the last.

Gen. Joshua Rudd stands before the Senate Committee on Armed Services in Washington
Gen. Joshua Rudd, who’s in charge of the two agencies that jointly run the Election Security Group, told the Senate Armed Services Committee on April 28, 2026, that he didn’t know if the group had been set up yet for the midterm elections.
AP Photo/Cliff Owen

A decade of election defense

The Russian-backed Internet Research Agency began targeting the U.S. political system to sow divisions in 2014. Thanks to Internet Research Agency troll farms – organized groups paid to flood social media platforms with fake or divisive content – disinformation proliferated through the 2016 election. At the same time, Russia’s GRU – its military intelligence agency – homed in on the Democratic National Committee and probed all 50 state election systems. It breached Hillary Clinton’s campaign and compromised election systems in Illinois.

Though there is no evidence that votes were altered as a result, Russian influence exposed the country’s election vulnerabilities and set the stage for extensive investigations and hearings questioning how the U.S. government should respond. It left lasting damage in its wake, like lower trust in electoral processes and widened political divides.

In the final weeks of the Obama administration, the Department of Homeland Security designated election infrastructure as critical, akin to water and electricity. The first Trump administration built on that designation and created the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency, a component of the Department of Homeland Security, in 2018. That same year, the National Security Agency and U.S. Cyber Command – the military nerve center for cybersecurity – partnered to launch what was initially called the Russia Small Group, a task force to guard U.S. election infrastructure against Russian interference.

Since at least the Obama administration, the U.S. had been largely focused on defensive measures to protect elections, like multifactor authentication and encryption, which make it harder to compromise systems in the first place. The Trump administration wanted to be more proactive, to put adversaries on notice and deter future attacks. This approach is known as defending forward, or persistent engagement.

The test for this new, more activist policy came during the 2018 midterms, as the Internet Research Agency again tried to widen divisions in U.S. society through hundreds of thousands of manufactured tweets and posts that made divisive views appear more widely shared than they were on both sides of hot-button issues. This time, however, the Russia Small Group took the Internet Research Agency offline during and immediately after the election. Although the details are classified, public reporting indicates that Cyber Command temporarily disrupted the Internet Research Agency’s internet access and sent direct messages to operatives warning them against such activities and instructing them to not interfere in U.S. elections.

A poster shows the photos and names of six Russian military intelligence officers
A Department of Justice poster shows six GRU officers charged with cyberattacks, Oct. 19, 2020.
Andrew Harnik/Pool via Getty Images

The Election Security Group

By the 2020 presidential election, the Russia Small Group had been renamed the Election Security Group, and its scope expanded beyond Russia to include China, Iran, North Korea and nonstate actors. It worked to “disrupt, deter and degrade foreign adversaries’ ability to interfere with and influence how U.S. citizens vote and how those votes are counted.”

The Election Security Group does this through detailed information-sharing across agencies and with local officials and the private sector. If, for instance, a foreign influence campaign falsely claims that polling places have closed early in a swing state, the Election Security Group can alert election officials, platforms and distributed cybersecurity teams before the claim goes viral. In true “defend forward” spirit, it can also help cut off foreign trolls and state-backed hackers from what’s needed to run an influence operation, like internet access, servers and accounts.

Typically, it is active during election years, serving as a vital coordination hub and turning intelligence about foreign election threats into warnings, defensive measures and offensive operations.

The Election Security Group’s absence comes at a time when both threats and technological vulnerabilities are multiplying.

The 2026 midterms

The current election cycle, in many ways, is more prone to targeting than previous ones because of the Iran war, AI-powered cyberattacks, nation state–sponsored attacks against U.S. election infrastructure, and the firing of key Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency personnel who worked with tech companies to spot election-related deepfakes and inaccurate or misleading content.

These challenges – combined with losing the EI-ISAC and, possibly, the Election Security Group – could leave the U.S. less prepared this November. Local and state election officials have fewer places to turn for the latest intelligence, and Congress is less informed about pressing threats – all while global U.S. standing is slipping and foreign adversaries could feel emboldened.

The Election Security Group, which was created by the first Trump administration – alongside both the Elections Infrastructure Information Sharing and Analysis Center and the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency – has been an important weapon in the U.S. arsenal to defend vulnerable election systems. What fills these gaps remains unclear. One outlet has reported that plans to revive the Election Security Group are beginning to move through senior intelligence and defense channels, weeks after Rudd’s testimony. Even if the group is activated immediately, it will have less than six months to do what it has historically done across a full election year. With early voting beginning in some states even sooner, the clock is ticking.

The Conversation

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own.

ref. For the first time in a decade, the next election could be less secure than the one preceding it – https://theconversation.com/for-the-first-time-in-a-decade-the-next-election-could-be-less-secure-than-the-one-preceding-it-282107

As goes CBS Radio News, so goes the idea that news media should serve the public interest

Source: The Conversation – USA (2) – By Matthew Jordan, Professor of Media Studies, Penn State

Former CBS President William S. Paley, left, who once called broadcasting ‘an instrument of American democracy,’ speaks on his radio network in 1934. Bettmann/Getty Images

When CBS Radio News goes silent on May 22, 2026, Americans will lose access to news programming they’ve tuned into from their living rooms, kitchens and cars for nearly a century.

The once-bipartisan idea that the nation’s media should exist to serve democracy continues to fade with it, too.

As a media historian, I think the story of CBS Radio News’ rise and fall cannot be told without telling another parallel story: the story of how the U.S. stopped demanding that media serve the public interest.

When CBS was born in 1927, radio was ascendant, and this new form of mass communication was spurring vibrant discussions about how media could better serve democracy.

Americans had already seen how concentrated wealth during the Gilded Age had tilted the news ecosystem by overemphasizing the concerns of the rich while glossing over inequality, graft and corruption. World War I further demonstrated the power of mass media to shape public opinion through propaganda, reinforcing calls for democratic oversight of broadcasting.

Just how to regulate radio was up for debate. But there was broad consensus across party lines that government could play a role in protecting the public from concentrated media power and, with it, foreign misinformation, bad-faith special interest messaging or fraudulent advertising.

The formative years

CBS radio traces its origins to the United Independent Broadcasters, a network of 16 local stations founded by music manager Arthur L. Judson. When Columbia Records bought a stake, it was renamed the Columbia Phonographic Broadcasting System.

Early broadcasts simply involved announcers reading short breaking-news dispatches distributed by the United Press wire service. Within months, Columbia sold its share to investors including William S. Paley, who streamlined the name to CBS.

Paley was no public media crusader. He was a businessman who wanted radio to turn a profit. But his management reflected a belief that radio could serve two masters: the public interest and advertisers.

He hired journalist Paul J. White to run the news division and created a regular news segment called “Something for Everyone.”

Though they differed on how best to achieve it, Democrats and Republicans agreed that radio ought to serve the public interest. In other words, because the airwaves belonged to all Americans, broadcasters had obligations beyond profit. They needed to provide reliable information, platform diverse viewpoints and cover matters of public concern.

A drawing of a sinister-looking man smoking a cigar and wearing a top hat looms over the word 'RADIO.'
A cartoon from the March 22, 1924, edition of The Literary Digest reflects the fear that radio would be subsumed by corporate interests.
Internet Archive

In the 1920s, then-Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover was charged with formulating federal radio policy. Though he was a staunch, pro-business conservative, Hoover was also an engineer who thought that the radio system should be “free of monopoly” and, like any machine, could be gradually improved so it would better serve democracy.

“The ether is a public medium, and its use must be for the public benefit,” he said in November 1925.

Republican President Calvin Coolidge signed the Radio Act of 1927 into law. Passed with overwhelming support, it required radio stations to demonstrate a commitment to “public interest, convenience and necessity” in order to receive a license.

Forging the public’s trust

By the time the 1934 Communications Act created the Federal Communications Commission, a regulatory agency tasked with licensing broadcasters and enforcing ownership rules, the idea that radio should serve the public had been normalized.

In 1935, Paley made Edward R. Murrow – the man most associated with CBS Radio’s public service mission – head of news programming.

With fascism threatening democracy across Europe, Murrow launched “World News Roundup” in 1938. The longest-running news program in American media, it featured live reports transmitted by shortwave from locations around the world. American audiences huddled around their radios nightly to hear CBS’ reports, which showed how live news could unite a nation and cultivate a richer information ecosystem than the uniform propaganda of Europe’s fascist strongmen.

CBS’ gripping coverage of World War II solidified its importance as an American institution. Murrow’s signature tag lines – “this is London” and, later, “good night and good luck” – helped forge the public’s trust in CBS’ reliable and informative programming.

The dangers of delusion and amusement

After the war, television challenged radio’s dominance. Paley understood that Murrow had built a deep trust among listeners, and he put him in charge of CBS News as the network expanded its programming to TV.

In a 1954 broadcast, CBS News anchor Edward Murrow famously framed Wisconsin Sen. Joseph McCarthy’s anti-communist investigations as antidemocratic.

Yet Murrow grew uneasy with shifts in the network’s coverage, which, in his view, increasingly served the economic interests of its owners.

Speaking to the Radio Television News Directors Association in 1958, Murrow lamented how radio and television had forgotten “to operate in the public interest.” He worried that “we have currently a built-in allergy to unpleasant or disturbing information” and saw mass media increasingly “being used to distract, delude, amuse and insulate us.”

Without serious reporting and civic responsibility as their animating principles, radio and television were losing their democratic utility, becoming mere “wires and lights in a box.”

Corporations gain the upper hand

Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, many of the rules dating from when CBS Radio News was born, like ownership restrictions and requirements for educational programming, remained on the books.

But during this period, media companies started spending enormous sums of money on donations to legislators who could do their bidding – and capturing the regulatory bodies that were supposed to be holding them accountable. The spirited debates about how radio could better serve democracy largely disappeared. Instead, the conversation shifted to whether government should have any role at all in regulating the media.

Principles that once had broad public support – producing public interest news as a quid pro quo for licensing, limits on foreign ownership and fairness rules that required stations to give equal time to both sides of an issue – faded away.

Any societal obligation outside of earning profit started being described as a threat to the American way of life. Those arguing that media should be regulated like a public utility in a pluralistic democracy were effectively ignored.

After President Bill Clinton signed the 1996 Telecommunication Act, critics argued that industry lobbying had helped dismantle much of the public interest framework that had long governed American broadcasting. The legislation relaxed ownership caps and cross-ownership rules, allowing a small number of large corporations to acquire far more stations and weakening the older public interest obligations tied to broadcast licensing.

Before the act, corporations were limited to owning 40 radio stations. Now, conglomerates like iHeartMedia and Audacy can own thousands.

‘The tube is flickering’

Through it all, CBS Radio News’ top-of-the-hour bulletins remained on the air, a reminder of its original public mission.

Yet increasingly, the deregulated radio ecosystem failed to perform that function.

Back in the 1920s, you could hear editorials arguing that the radio should not be given over to “propagandists, religious zealots and unprincipled persons to grind their own axes.” By the early 2000s, divisive shock jocks and hosts feeding on partisan anger dominated the radio dial.

In a 1938 radio address on CBS’ ethical commitments, Paley argued that “broadcasting as an instrument of American democracy must forever be wholly, honestly and militantly non-partisan.” By 2016, CEO Les Moonves defended CBS’ decision to increase its coverage of President Donald Trump’s spectacularly divisive politics to juice ratings: “It may not be good for America, but it’s damn good for CBS.” Four years later, Trump awarded one of radio’s most polarizing partisan propagandists, Rush Limbaugh, the Presidential Medal of Freedom.

In his second term, Trump has abused his power over the media ecosystem. In 2025, the Trump administration’s FCC approved the merger of Paramount Global, the parent company of CBS, with Skydance Media. But it only did so after Paramount Global settled a lawsuit Trump had filed against CBS for $16 million.

Though many talented journalists and producers remain, CBS News’ recently hired editor-in-chief, Bari Weiss, has worked to make the network more friendly to the Trump administration. She temporarily shelved a “60 Minutes” segment critical of Trump’s use of El Salvador’s CECOT prison and promoted a friendly town hall with conservative commentator Erika Kirk, the widow of assassinated political activist Charlie Kirk. Ratings at the network have collapsed.

Though Paramount Skydance is using its enormous debt load to justify taking CBS Radio News off the air, the conglomerate is trying to purchase CNN’s parent company, Warner Bros. Discovery, in a move that would only further the monopolization of the news media.

Americans can’t say Murrow didn’t warn them.

“The tube is flickering,” he said in 1958. And unless Americans reclaim their right to information not colored by profit motive and special interests, “we will soon see that the whole struggle is lost.”

The Conversation

Matthew Jordan does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. As goes CBS Radio News, so goes the idea that news media should serve the public interest – https://theconversation.com/as-goes-cbs-radio-news-so-goes-the-idea-that-news-media-should-serve-the-public-interest-281718

Transgender youth and their families struggle to find gender-affirming care – even in states where it’s still legal

Source: The Conversation – USA (3) – By Susan Radzilowski, Lecturer in Social Work, University of Michigan

In the face of a confusing and hostile political climate, trans youth and their families are often left to fend for themselves. Chalffy/iStock via Getty Images Plus

Imagine this scenario: In late 2025, a social worker sits down with a transgender teenager and his parents. The family is trying to decide whether, and when, to begin gender-affirming hormone treatment.

No one in the family was questioning this young person’s gender identity. The teen had been living as a boy for years. By all accounts, he was thriving: emotionally, academically and socially.

He felt ready for this next step, and so did his parents – at first.

What gave them pause was not a wavering in the parents’ support of their child’s identity, or a change in the teen’s needs. Instead, they felt unsure whether starting hormone therapy was still legal – or even safe.

As a clinical social worker who works extensively with children and families navigating gender‑affirming care – and as someone whose trans child is now an adult – I have encountered several families facing similar questions about their options. These concerns have grown in recent years, especially as more states have moved to restrict gender-affirming care for minors.

In states like Michigan, gender-affirming care for minors remains legal as of May 2026. Yet news coverage and political rhetoric have left many families uncertain about what care doctors are still permitted to offer.

In response to evolving federal legal and regulatory pressures, several Michigan health systems have limited or discontinued certain forms of gender-affirming medical care for minors. This includes puberty blockers and gender-affirming hormone therapy. These limitations have increased confusion among families about what care remains available.

Families are flooded with disinformation and misinformation suggesting the science on gender-affirming care has changed. It has not. But a growing gap exists between what the law permits and what families believe possible, shaping how parents make medical decisions for their children.

What the law says – and what families hear

As of May 2026, gender-affirming care for minors remains legal in 23 states, with shield laws that protect against prosecution in other states. Around 27 states have enacted laws restricting or banning gender-affirming care for transgender youth.

Regardless of legality, gender-affirming care is endorsed by every major medical association, including the American Medical Association, the American Academy of Pediatrics and the Endocrine Society.

In states where gender‑affirming care is banned, the effects on youth and families are often immediate and far‑reaching. Patients may be forced to stop care, and these unplanned treatment disruptions can negatively affect mental health. Research shows that transgender youth experience increased anxiety, depression and suicidality when they’re exposed to restrictive policies, and a majority have reported that these policies have negatively affected their well‑being.

When care is banned, families shoulder added burdens. They must take time away from work and school and travel long distances – sometimes crossing state lines – to access care. One national study found that more than 1 in 4 transgender youth were living over four hours from the nearest clinic after state legislators enacted restrictions. Many faced even longer travel times. For young people, having to retell their story to a new care team can feel exhausting and traumatizing.

Families are being forced to move across states to access gender-affirming care.

Even in states where care is legal, there are longer wait times and reduced access as providers and families pivot to navigate evolving legal risks. These pressures compound the emotional, logistical and financial toll on families trying to maintain stable care. Parents and young people are also concerned that their care may be abruptly withdrawn once started.

Additionally, parents worry that supporting their child’s gender transition could bring unwanted government scrutiny. In July 2025, the Department of Justice issued subpoenas to doctors and clinics to obtain the private medical records of transgender minors as part of an effort to end pediatric gender-affirming care.

This heightened scrutiny has had a chilling effect on patients and providers, undermining patient privacy and trust in care.

What gender-affirming care actually involves

Much of the pushback concerning gender‑affirming care arises from misunderstandings about what it actually involves.

Gender-affirming care is an individualized approach to supporting young people whose gender identity differs from their sex assigned at birth. It includes social support, mental health assessment and, for some patients, medical treatment.

Care begins with a comprehensive, thorough assessment of the patient, including their mental and physical health and social relationships. Clinicians interview patients about significant aspects of their life, including their gender identity, trauma history, educational status and overall well-being. The parents’ perspectives are incorporated into the assessment as well, along with religious or cultural barriers to care.

To initiate any medical care, consent from the parent and assent from the patient is required. Each patient’s plan is grounded in a full understanding of the child’s needs, and this may or may not involve medical transition.

Access to gender‑affirming care has been consistently associated with improved mental health outcomes, including reductions in depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts among transgender youth. While some research has reported regret after transitioning, many of these studies tend to discount positive outcomes, minimize the harms of restricting care or apply standards of evidence unevenly for transgender and cisgender children.

For example, the National Health Service England’s 2020 Cass Review has influenced public discourse about gender-affirming care in the U.S. and the U.K. It concluded that there is limited and uncertain evidence supporting medical interventions for transgender youth and recommended a more cautious approach to care. However, scholars across medicine, mental health and law have criticized the Cass Review’s methodology and conclusions, noting that the authors misused or misrepresented parts of the available data and applied inconsistent standards when evaluating research.

Critics caution against applying the review’s findings to patient care. Doing so risks harming young patients by treating transgender identities as a disease and making blanket recommendations against care.

Even where care is legal, accessing it is harder

Together, misinformation, legal threats and evolving policies have made accessing evidence‑based care more difficult. This has resulted in the weakening of the safeguards supporting comprehensive care and ongoing monitoring of young patients’ physical and mental health. Some families have been forced to navigate fragmented access to care, rely on less experienced providers or attempt to piece together care on their own.

Some politicians frame restrictive policies as protecting young people. But these restrictions in fact have the opposite effect by limiting access to care and destabilizing established treatment plans.

Protestors holding signs next to a street lamp at night, two of which read 'DEFEAT TRUMP'S BAN ON TRANS YOUTH MEDICAL CARE'
The Trump administration has subpoenaed several hospitals for access to the private medical records of trans patients.
AP Photo/Heather Khalifa

When care is delayed or interrupted, the resulting distress that a young patient experiences stems not from a change in their gender identity, but from uncertainty about what comes next.

Research has shown that this instability can increase a young person’s risk of anxiety, depression and suicidal ideation.

How parents can support their trans child

When medical care is inaccessible, there are still tangible ways parents can support their children.

For one, parents can affirm their child’s gender by using their chosen name and pronouns, and asking other family members to do the same. They can also support their child by allowing them to explore their gender expression, welcoming their child’s trans friends into family activities and creating spaces where their identity is respected.

Parents can monitor changes in their child’s mood or behavior and use those moments as opportunities to check in. When concerns arise, they can consider connecting their child with a gender‑affirming therapist.

Parents can also advocate for their child at home and at school. They can work with schools to develop a gender support plan that proactively addresses potential challenges, including name and pronouns, access to restrooms and activities, and identifying adult allies.

Parental support remains one of the strongest protective factors for the mental health and overall well-being of their child. For some parents, this parallel process involves letting go of expectations or assumptions about who their child would be, and fully loving and seeing the child in front of them. That shift can provide a sense of direction and open the door to deeper, more genuine intimacy.

My experience has shown me, time and again, that when a child transitions, the whole family transitions alongside them. Consistent parental support helps young people tolerate uncertainty in an unpredictable legal and political climate. More importantly, steady, affirming support from adults helps transgender youth maintain connection, safety and hope for the future, even when access to care becomes unstable.

The Conversation

Susan Radzilowski does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organization that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

ref. Transgender youth and their families struggle to find gender-affirming care – even in states where it’s still legal – https://theconversation.com/transgender-youth-and-their-families-struggle-to-find-gender-affirming-care-even-in-states-where-its-still-legal-281492

How you map numbers in your mind isn’t universal, even among people who read the same language

Source: The Conversation – USA – By Olga Lazareva, Professor of Psychology, Drake University

Each person organizes quantities and gradients in their own mental space. AMarc/iStock via Getty Images Plus

Imagine taking out a 12-inch ruler and finding that the number 12 is on the left side and the number 1 is on the right side. For most native English speakers, this would be disorienting. We are used to seeing the numbers move from smallest to largest, from left to right. When this layout flips, people struggle because the numbers are now in the “wrong” place.

Psychologists have long known that people in Western cultures tend to associate smaller numbers with the left side of space and larger numbers with the right, a phenomenon called the SNARC effect – short for Spatial-Numerical Association of Response Codes.

In the lab, researchers like us test this tendency by asking people to press a left or a right button when shown a numerical digit. Native English speakers are generally quicker to press left for small numbers and right for large numbers because these locations match our mental number line.

But here’s the twist: What feels like the “correct” direction depends on where you grew up and where you live. In places with right-to-left languages like Arabic, the pattern often flips: People are faster to press right for small numbers and left for large numbers. Speakers of Farsi, a right-to-left language, who were born in Iran but move to France gradually shift toward a left-to-right mapping the longer they stay.

Woman kneeling next to young child points to number on a number line
Learning to read and count can influence your mental map.
Lucidio Studio, Inc./Moment via Getty Images

Even literacy matters. On average, people who never learned to read or count don’t show the effect at all. Researchers aren’t sure why. Maybe these people do not map numbers to space. Or maybe each individual has their own different orientation – left-to-right vs. right-to-left – that wash each other out when investigators average them all together.

Although people in Western cultures are used to seeing numbers increase left to right on keypads, rulers or classroom number lines, the SNARC effect isn’t limited to numbers. In the lab, similar left-to-right patterns appear with other magnitudes, including size, height and brightness.

A key question is the origin of the SNARC effect. Some researchers point to brain lateralization: the differences in how the left and right sides of the brain are wired and used. Others suggest it is a broader cognitive habit: When people line things up, they prefer to sort them in an order that makes sense for them. For example, if you are comparing 5 inches to 9 inches, you might think of 5 on the left and 9 on the right. But if you were comparing 5 o’clock to 9 o’clock, you might think of 5 on the right and 9 on the left, based on the face of an analog clock.

But culture matters, too: Cultural experience learning that “small” is on the left and “large” is on the right results in a stronger SNARC effect. It’s therefore not yet clear where the SNARC effect comes from because in humans, biology and culture are all tangled up.

Do other animals have mental number lines?

Our field of study is comparative cognition. We study how primates and birds make sense of the world: how they think, learn and remember. Animals share many cognitive processes with humans, but lack cultural experiences like reading, writing and counting, making them ideal subjects for investigating this number-line question.

We and other researchers in our field started by developing a SNARC task for nonhuman animals. We showed orangutans and gorillas two sets of dots on a touchscreen, one on the left and the other on the right. If these animals naturally associate “less” with left and “more” with right, then on average they should have been more accurate and faster at picking out the smaller set when it appeared on the left than when it appeared on the right. But that is not what happened.

Orangutan reaches fingers through fencing toward a computer screen; white bird faces a blue computer screen.
An orangutan and a pigeon select the smaller number of dots on a touchscreen computer task meant to measure the SNARC effect – how they map quantities onto space.
Reggie Gazes and Olga Lazareva

Looking closer at the individuals, we saw why: Some apes showed a left-to-right pattern and others preferred right-to-left. These individual preferences canceled each other out in our overall averaged results. This split suggested that apes, like humans, do organize magnitudes in space. But without cultural cues like reading or counting direction, each animal developed its own preferred ordering direction.

We and others have since replicated the original study in rhesus monkeys, pigeons and blue jays and our ongoing, not yet peer-reviewed study with chickens. In all of these cases, there’s strong evidence for spatial representation of magnitude, along with clear individual differences in direction.

Number-line direction may not be so clear-cut

Finding so much variability in animals made us think: Might individual people also differ more than the averages suggest? Many SNARC studies report only average scores combining all the people tested, making it hard to see whether individual people vary like other animals do.

So we ran a new study in which native English speakers from the United States judged different magnitudes ranging from Arabic numerals to dot quantities and the brightness of a square. The averages showed the expected left-to-right pattern. But individuals often didn’t.

Nearly a quarter of participants judging dot quantities showed a right-to-left pattern, contradicting their reading and counting history. When judging brightness of a square, the split was almost 50/50, erasing the average effect altogether, just like in animals.

Our results suggest that the SNARC effect isn’t a universal rule etched into human brains by culture. Instead, it looks more like a flexible way of thinking that can vary among individuals, species – or even from task to task in the same person. Some people like arranging things left-to-right, others prefer right-to-left, and the same is true of animals.

By looking beyond averages, we see a richer story: Minds can be flexible and inventive, whether they belong to apes, birds or humans.

The Conversation

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

ref. How you map numbers in your mind isn’t universal, even among people who read the same language – https://theconversation.com/how-you-map-numbers-in-your-mind-isnt-universal-even-among-people-who-read-the-same-language-261258

Au‑delà du dialogue rompu : comment les controverses sociales rebattent les règles du vivre‑ensemble

Source: The Conversation – in French – By Adam Tremblay, Candidat au doctorat en sociologie, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

Les récentes controverses autour de la liberté académique, de l’appropriation culturelle ou de la transidentité dans le sport ne sont pas de simples disputes d’opinion. Parler de « controverse sociale » permet de les comprendre comme de nouvelles formes d’affrontement qui redéfinissent, sous nos yeux, les normes de notre vivre‑ensemble


Le 1er août 2024, lors des Jeux olympiques de Paris, la boxeuse algérienne Imane Khelif affronte l’Italienne Angela Carini. Le combat, interrompu après 46 secondes, déclenche une controverse mondiale. Carini, étourdie et en larmes, refuse de saluer son adversaire, déclarant n’avoir jamais encaissé de coups aussi puissants.

Ce geste s’inscrit dans un contexte précis : depuis mars 2023, l’International Boxing Association remet en question l’éligibilité de Khelif à la catégorie féminine, affirmant disposer de tests révélant des chromosomes XY. En quelques heures, l’affaire cristallise une polarisation mondiale autour de l’intersexualité dans le sport et de la définition du « féminin » en compétition internationale.

Concernant l’identité sexuelle de Khelif, les certitudes se dissolvent dans un brouillard de déclarations contradictoires. Le Comité international olympique (2024) affirme qu’elle est une femme, avec un sexe biologique féminin et un passeport féminin depuis sa naissance, tandis qu’un média français publie en novembre 2024 ce qu’il présente comme un rapport médical confidentiel indiquant une différence de développement sexuel avec chromosomes XY, testicules internes et micropénis.

Face à ces informations divergentes, la distinction entre « vrai » et « faux » devient elle-même objet de controverse, d’autant qu’aucun consensus scientifique ne se dégage sur l’ampleur des avantages conférés par l’hyperandrogénie ni sur la légitimité éthique des régulations en place.

Le cas Khelif ne se joue donc pas principalement sur le terrain de la preuve scientifique. Il mobilise des questions morales et identitaires : qu’est‑ce qu’une femme ? Qui a le pouvoir de définir ces catégories ? Ces interrogations restent sans réponse consensuelle, car les coalitions adverses ne partagent ni les mêmes prémisses ontologiques (qu’est-ce qui existe ?), ni les mêmes critères épistémologiques (comment le savoir ?), ni les mêmes priorités normatives (faut-il privilégier l’inclusion ou l’équité sportive ?). Que l’une de ces positions soit, dans l’« absolu », plus solide que l’autre n’empêche pas la coalition qui la défend de subir des revers concrets ni celle qui la conteste d’obtenir des gains institutionnels durables.

Une forme de conflictualité à part entière

La controverse Khelif n’est ni marginale ni anecdotique. On peut penser, au Québec, à l’annulation des spectacles SLĀV et Kanata de Robert Lepage à l’été 2018, ou à la suspension de l’enseignante Verushka Lieutenant-Duval à l’automne 2020 pour avoir prononcé le mot en « n » en contexte pédagogique. Aux États-Unis, on peut penser à la controverse autour de la nageuse transgenre Lia Thomas durant la saison universitaire 2021‑2022.

L’affaire Khelif est venue s’ajouter comme une confirmation additionnelle d’une forme de conflictualité que j’analysais déjà dans mes recherches doctorales, m’intéressant aux nombreuses controverses entourant les revendications de minorités sexuelles, de genre et ethnoraciales dans l’espace public. C’est ce type de conflictualité, récurrent mais encore mal nommé, que j’ai cherché à conceptualiser dans ma thèse.

Le contexte de la controverse sociale

La mutation des médias de masse et l’essor des réseaux numériques ont accéléré et densifié la circulation des prises de parole dans l’espace public. C’est dans ce nouvel environnement communicationnel que les controverses sociales apparaissent.

Ces transformations médiatiques et numériques modifient en effet drastiquement la façon de participer au débat public, les luttes pour la reconnaissance n’y échappant pas. Grâce aux réseaux sociaux, des personnes qui ne se connaissent pas, mais dont les positions convergent ponctuellement se retrouvent comme membres d’une même « coalition » : des regroupements circonstanciels d’acteurs, sans organisation formelle.

Ces transformations connectent de fait des expériences locales (un combat de boxe, un cours universitaire, un spectacle de théâtre) aux trajectoires conflictuelles plus larges des polarisations politiques et morales du moment. Certains cas prennent alors des proportions extrêmes. Celui de Khelif l’illustre bien : l’ampleur qu’il prend tient au fait qu’il cristallise tout en amplifiant les lignes de fracture déjà présentes dans la société.




À lire aussi :
Censure à l’université : les limites de l’universalité de la littérature


Les multiples visages du conflit public

Pour qualifier cette forme conflictuelle, il faut d’abord la situer par rapport aux catégories existantes. Le cas Khelif présente des airs de famille avec plusieurs formes connues, sans se réduire à aucune d’elles.

On y trouve d’abord des éléments du débat public classique, au sens que lui donne le linguiste français Patrick Charaudeau. Une question surgit – est-il juste que Khelif participe dans la catégorie féminine ? – et provoque un emballement médiatique. Des coalitions se forment sur-le-champ : responsables politiques, athlètes, fédérations et commentateurs se rangent rapidement « pour » ou « contre ». Dans cette conception, le désaccord est encadré par un dispositif institué (parlement, plateau de télévision, tribune officielle) et par des règles de discussion qui visent à rendre le désaccord surmontable et à ouvrir la possibilité d’un compromis.


Déjà des milliers d’abonnés à l’infolettre de La Conversation. Et vous ? Abonnez-vous gratuitement à notre infolettre pour mieux comprendre les grands enjeux contemporains.


Or, dans le cas Khelif, le différend déborde ces cadres institutionnels : les coalitions adverses ne reconnaissent aucun cadre de référence commun, et tout compromis apparaît sinon impossible, du moins invraisemblable. Il ne s’agit ni de coopérer pour aboutir à un consensus ni de se contenter d’un dissensus, mais d’enjoindre le CIO de trancher en faveur d’un camp, contre l’autre.

S’agit-il alors d’une controverse scientifique ? Des experts interviennent, des tests sont évoqués, des rapports circulent. Mais le désaccord ne porte pas seulement sur des chiffres ou des seuils hormonaux : il porte sur ce qu’est une femme, sur l’inclusion et l’équité sportive. Même si la science était parfaite, les camps resteraient en désaccord, parce qu’ils ne partagent pas les mêmes valeurs. L’endocrinologiste américain Bradley Anawalt, professeur à l’Université de Washington, doute d’ailleurs que la science puisse un jour trancher définitivement qui doit être admis ou non dans la catégorie féminine.




À lire aussi :
Scandale autour de la boxeuse Imane Khelif : un bras de fer géopolitique


Reste la tentation de comprendre l’affaire sous l’angle de la polémique, au sens de la théoricienne du discours Ruth Amossy, professeure à l’Université de Tel‑Aviv. Elle en rassemble plusieurs éléments : déclarations outrancières, indignation en boucle, disqualification, forte présence d’émotions et de composantes affectives. Mais la polémique, telle qu’Amossy la conçoit, suppose d’en rester au dissensus, en s’en satisfaisant : comme elle ne cesse de le rappeler, la polémique est un mode de « coexistence dans le dissensus ».

On s’affronte violemment sur l’immigration ou le climat, mais le discours que l’on tient participe pleinement du débat public : les polémistes cherchent avant tout à convaincre l’opinion publique. Or, à travers le cas Khelif, ce qui se trouve directement mis en cause n’est plus seulement l’issue d’un débat, mais le cadre de la compétition lui-même. Le conflit ne se joue donc pas dans les limites du vivre-ensemble, il porte sur ces limites.

La controverse sociale : une forme émergente

Ce que j’appelle « controverse sociale » pousse cette logique d’un cran. Dans l’affaire Khelif, il ne s’agit plus seulement de dire « j’ai raison, tu as tort », mais de redéfinir qui a le droit de participer à quoi, selon quelles règles, et à quelles conditions on appartient à une catégorie comme « femme » dans le sport. Chaque camp cherche à imposer sa hiérarchie des valeurs comme principe organisateur d’un milieu social. Le conflit porte donc sur les fondations mêmes du vivre-ensemble.

Cette trajectoire conflictuelle ne se limite pas au cas Khelif. On la retrouve dans des affaires touchant à la liberté académique, à l’appropriation culturelle, aux pronoms, aux quotas, au voile islamique ou au retrait de statues. À chaque fois, un incident local devient le point de départ d’un affrontement entre des visions incompatibles de ce qui est juste ou légitime.

L’architecture numérique amplifie ces chocs : le pic est rapide, la polarisation maximale, chaque coalition enregistre victoires et défaites, puis la controverse s’épuise sans véritable résolution, jusqu’au prochain cas qui réactive le même clivage. Dans certains cas toutefois, une valeur cardinale finit par s’imposer comme principe d’arbitrage. La controverse fait alors figure de carrefour où un milieu social choisit, explicitement ou non, une direction normative contre une autre.

Parler en termes de « controverse sociale », ce n’est donc pas rebaptiser des disputes anciennes. C’est insister sur un type de conflit où l’on ne discute plus seulement d’opinions, mais des catégories mêmes à travers lesquelles on voit le monde social, et des valeurs qui doivent les gouverner. Comprendre ces affrontements, c’est se donner les moyens de saisir comment, à travers des cas comme celui d’Imane Khelif, se redessinent aujourd’hui les frontières de nos appartenances et les conditions de notre vivre-ensemble.

La Conversation Canada

Adam Tremblay ne travaille pas, ne conseille pas, ne possède pas de parts, ne reçoit pas de fonds d’une organisation qui pourrait tirer profit de cet article, et n’a déclaré aucune autre affiliation que son organisme de recherche.

ref. Au‑delà du dialogue rompu : comment les controverses sociales rebattent les règles du vivre‑ensemble – https://theconversation.com/au-dela-du-dialogue-rompu-comment-les-controverses-sociales-rebattent-les-regles-du-vivre-ensemble-282459

What AI taxis and robots can learn from bees

Source: The Conversation – UK – By HaDi MaBouDi, Research fellow, University of Sheffield

Bees are very good at navigation. James wk/Shutterstock

Even advanced technology can struggle when the real world becomes unpredictable. In April 2026, a Waymo robotaxi in San Antonio, Texas, drove into a flooded lane during severe weather, prompting the company to recall about 3,800 vehicles for a software fix.

No one was injured, but the incident exposed a deeper challenge: intelligence is not just about processing data. It is about knowing where to look, what to notice, when to act and how to use previous experience when conditions change.

AI researchers are now looking at bees and other insects to help them design machines and robots that can make better decisions.

My research explores how bees learn, from identifying simple visual patterns to mastering high-level concepts, and how they adapt their behaviour when conditions change.

By combining behavioural experiments, neural recording (for example, measuring signals from the brain) and neuromorphic computing (an approach to computing inspired by the animal brain), my goal is to uncover the biological code that allows tiny brains to navigate a complex world and make efficient decisions. I have also worked in industry to translate these biological discoveries into robotic applications – bringing the intelligence of the hive to machine intelligence.

Research on honeybee decision making has shown that bees make rapid and accurate choices about whether to accept or reject flowers. They do not need perfect information. Instead, they combine sensory evidence, past experience and the likely value of a reward (for example, how much nectar they might gather).




Read more:
Queen bumblebees can breathe underwater — for days. We discovered how


Many autonomous systems need to be able to do this. A robot exploring a greenhouse, warehouse or disaster zone cannot wait for perfect data. Bees offer a model based on flexible decisions and useful shortcuts rather than huge computation.

With brains smaller than a sesame seed, bees navigate long distances, move through cluttered landscapes, identify rewarding flowers, avoid danger, communicate with nestmates and make rapid decisions. They achieve this with a tiny fraction of the energy used by modern computers, and can learn after only a few experiences that a new colour, scent or pattern predicts food.

This makes the bee an unlikely blueprint for low-power, robust AI and autonomous systems that can cope with the real world.

Bees can multitask

Many AI systems are designed to do one task well, such as recognising an image, following a route or detecting an object. Robotics has a harder ambition: compact machines that handle many tasks in unpredictable environments while using little power.

Bees offer a working example. During one foraging trip, a bee must find food, stay orientated, avoid danger and update its choices from experience, all with a brain containing around one million neurons. They do this by combining vision, smell, touch, vibration and airflow. Rather than processing every detail, they fuse information streams and extract what matters for survival.

Bees are valuable for robotics because they show how a small system can coordinate many tasks without huge computing power. That principle could guide low-power autonomous systems for agriculture, search and rescue, environmental monitoring and planetary exploration.

Bees also show that intelligence depends not only on what an animal senses, but also on how it moves to gather and shape information. This idea, known as active sensing, could transform robotics. When a bee approaches a flower, it does not take a still image like a camera. It moves its head and body; changes angle and creates patterns of visual motion across its eyes. These movements help useful information stand out, allowing the bee to ignore irrelevant details. This is why bees do not need to remember a flower as a detailed image. They only need to learn the key cues that help them recognise it again. Movement becomes part of sensing.

That is different from many machine-vision systems, which passively analyse images. A small robot using the bee’s strategy would not need to process every pixel. It could move to make the scene easier to understand, shifting position to judge distance, turning to improve contrast or using motion to detect obstacles.

The lesson is simple: intelligence is less about processing everything and more about using the right strategy to find the right information at the right time.

For a foraging bee, a bad decision can be costly. Visiting the wrong flower after a long journey wastes time and energy. Taking too long can mean losing an opportunity or being exposed to danger. To solve this, bees use relatively simple neural circuits to make rapid, accurate and risk-aware decisions. They do not need a huge brain or vast computing power. Instead, this minimal circuit helps them quickly decide whether to reject a flower or land on it safely.

Robotic navigation inspired by honey bee flight.

Navigation without a map

Navigation is another area where bees inspire engineers. Bees can travel several kilometres from the hive to food sources and return home using visual landmarks, distance estimates and memory. New research inspired by honeybee flights has shown how tiny drones could navigate using very small neural networks. In the study, a bee-inspired system called Bee-Nav allowed small robots to travel away from home and return using only a compact neural memory. Therefore, future drones may not need GPS, detailed maps or large onboard computers.

Instead, they may use compact memories of important views and simple movement rules. Such systems could be useful where GPS is unreliable, such as in forests, tunnels, greenhouses or collapsed buildings.

Many future machines, from small drones to farm robots and environmental sensors, will need to act without heavy batteries or constant cloud computing. Like bees, they will need simple navigation strategies that work with limited energy, memory and information.

The real lesson is broader: intelligence does not always require scale. As AI becomes more common in daily life, the bee offers an elegant answer to rising energy demands. For decades, the ambition of AI was to build systems that match the human mind, but the bee shows that smart does not have to mean big.

By mimicking the bee’s ability to learn fast, navigate without maps and integrate multiple sources of information, we may build technology that is more efficient, flexible and resilient.

The Conversation

HaDi MaBouDi 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 AI taxis and robots can learn from bees – https://theconversation.com/what-ai-taxis-and-robots-can-learn-from-bees-283089

European countries reach new agreement on human rights – here’s what it means for the UK’s immigration debate

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Angus Harrison, Senior Lecturer in Law, The University of Law

The 46 countries bound by the European Convention on Human Rights (ECHR) have signed a new declaration on migration, setting out how they believe human rights law should apply to migration issues.

With the ECHR playing a contentious role in immigration discourse in the UK, the UK government trailed this declaration as a “more modern interpretation” of the ECHR that would help “restore order and control”. Yet the declaration may not change very much in practice.

The ECHR is a key human rights treaty signed by almost every European country, binding them to respect a list of fundamental rights. The European Court of Human Rights in Strasbourg has the final say in interpreting what these rights require in practice.

Two ECHR rights are particularly important when it comes to immigration: Article 8 (the right to respect for private and family life), and Article 3 (the right to freedom from torture or inhuman treatment). This new declaration, signed in the Moldovan capital of Chișinău, follows a campaign by some countries, including the UK, to change the interpretation of these rights to make removing migrants easier. It does not remove the authority of the Strasbourg court on these issues, but is likely to influence it.

The right to family life

Article 8, the right to family life, is known as a “qualified right”. This means that governments can make decisions that interfere with it (such as deporting someone with family in the UK) to pursue aims like immigration control – so long as their actions are “proportionate” to their aims.

The UK government wants a “rebalancing” of this right, giving more weight to the “public interest” and less to offenders’ family ties. The Chișinău declaration says that Strasbourg should respect national governments’ views, intervening only very exceptionally.

In reality, however, the Strasbourg court has already been doing this for years. In 2017, the court held that as long as ECHR countries carefully weighed up all relevant factors, such as the extent of the person’s family life and nature of their offending, then, “it is not for the court to substitute its own assessment”.

The perception that Strasbourg hinders the UK on family life matters is aided by misinformation – for example, the extensively reported case of a criminal migrant who was supposedly allowed to remain in the UK because his son disliked the chicken nuggets abroad. This was, however, never the basis of the decision. The declaration may fuel headlines about closing a “chicken nugget loophole”, but no such loophole really existed.

Inhuman treatment

The other right up for reinterpretation is Article 3, covering torture or inhuman treatment. This is an “absolute” right, meaning states are forbidden from such treatment under any circumstances.

Strasbourg’s interpretation of this right in migration has caused a genuine problem for governments. An example is the recent case of Nicolas de Brito, who was wanted on murder charges in Brazil. After fleeing to the UK, he successfully challenged extradition because prison conditions in Brazil fell below Strasbourg’s standards for inhuman treatment, due to overcrowding. He was released to live and work in the UK, and the murder case in Brazil had to be shelved.

In my forthcoming research, I argue that results like this arise from a crucial mistake made by Strasbourg. The problem began with a case in 1989, when the court first considered a new question: can a European state extradite someone if they might suffer inhuman treatment in the country receiving them?

The court’s judgment was ambiguously written. In my view, it is best read as saying that the ECHR does not normally govern what another state outside Europe does after extradition. However, removal should be blocked if there is a risk of exceptionally grave treatment.

In subsequent cases, though, Strasbourg arguably misinterpreted this. Instead of holding that only the most serious forms of mistreatment should prevent a person’s removal, it began holding that anything that would breach Article 3 should prohibit a person being extradited, if it might happen abroad.




Read more:
Why is it so difficult for the UK to deport foreign criminals?


When “inhuman treatment” was later expanded to include overcrowded prisons, this created a difficult situation for governments trying to extradite people. If a European country’s own prison systems are found to fall below acceptable standards, they can respond by changing them. However, they cannot control prisons in countries like Brazil. This means that in a case like de Brito’s, they are forced to release him regardless of the murder charges, as this is the only way to ensure he does not enter these conditions.

The solution is to recognise that while the ECHR should still bar European governments from imposing inhuman prison conditions themselves, the position must be different when it comes to conditions in another country. Then, only the most serious matters should block extradition. This is not because someone in de Brito’s situation has inferior rights to a prisoner in Europe, but because it is Brazil, not the UK, that is responsible for fulfilling his rights.

While the new declaration made in Moldova expresses that states are “concerned” about the implications of this issue, it otherwise again simply restates the law as it already is. This is a missed opportunity to untangle the knot in which the court has tied itself.

Finally, in a section on “new approaches to migration”, the declaration says that European states are allowed to process asylum seekers’ claims in another country. This could include schemes like the UK’s now-abandoned Rwanda plan.

However, this is not a new position. The UK’s plan wasn’t blocked because countries could not process asylum claims abroad in principle. Instead, it was because the UK’s specific scheme failed to ensure these claims would be properly dealt with. This remains the case: the declaration says that states’ power to operate such schemes applies only “provided that they continue to fulfil their [ECHR] obligations”.

Overall, then, the declaration does very little to change how countries may legally approach immigration control. It spends much time restating existing law, while missing a chance to meaningfully engage with the hardest issue.

Rights groups worried that the declaration would weaken protections for migrants. Their concern should not be with the declaration itself, but the wider political context in which it originates – and that debate is set to rumble on.

The Conversation

Angus Harrison 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. European countries reach new agreement on human rights – here’s what it means for the UK’s immigration debate – https://theconversation.com/european-countries-reach-new-agreement-on-human-rights-heres-what-it-means-for-the-uks-immigration-debate-281827

Taiwan Travelogue wins 2026 International Booker – a deftly translated tale of food, love and history

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Eva Cheuk-Yin Li, Lecturer in Screen Industries, King’s College London

Set in 1930s Taiwan under Japanese colonial rule, Taiwan Travelogue follows fictional Japanese novelist Aoyama Chizuko and her Taiwanese interpreter, Ō Chizuru (or Ông Tshian-ho’h), as they journey across colonial Taiwan by rail, encountering its diverse local food cultures. But Taiwan Travelogue is far more than a historical travel narrative. Through meals, translation and silences, Yáng explores colonial power, intimacy and the limits of empathy.

At first glance, the novel almost resembles a cookbook. Each chapter is named after a meal shared by the two women. Taiwan Travelogue’s prose lingers over the preparation of meals, unfamiliar ingredients and the rituals of eating together. Food is not simply decorative detail, but a way of unfolding history and negotiating power.

Readers expecting a gentle culinary novel may initially miss how carefully constructed the book really is. Nearly every detail acquires new meaning in retrospect. The novel rewards rereading because Yáng quietly plants clues throughout the text, allowing seemingly ordinary moments to gather emotional and political weight over time.

Despite its engagement with colonial violence and historical trauma, Taiwan Travelogue never feels emotionally heavy handed. Much of the pleasure of reading the novel lies in its warmth and humour: the fragrant descriptions of food, the characters’ banter and their small moments of laughter and companionship. Yáng has a remarkable ability to smuggle larger political questions into scenes of everyday intimacy. Reflections on empire and power emerge gradually through conversations about local dishes, cooking techniques or dining etiquette.

One of the book’s most striking features is its meta-fictional structure, which layers a fictional author, a fictional translator and a fictional contemporary introduction, written as though by a real person. This is not merely stylistic play, but a structural argument about mediation: who is authorised to produce knowledge, whose voice is foregrounded and whose remains partial or silent. Unreliability here is not a narrative flaw but a reflection of how colonial power shapes what can be known and said.

This framing matters because the novel is deeply concerned with who gets to speak, who gets represented, whose feelings are recognised and whose knowledge remains hidden. Chizuko, the Japanese “mainlander” novelist, may appear to guide the narrative, but much of the novel’s emotional and political force lies in what the Taiwanese “islander” interpreter Chizuru chooses not to say.

One of the most striking aspects of the novel is how it handles intimacy between the two women. Their relationship is never explicitly named. Instead, Yáng renders undercurrents of queer desire through shared meals, gestures and unfinished conversations.

The restraint is precisely what makes the relationship so affecting. The novel captures how intimacy can emerge within unequal structures of power. But it never allows readers to forget the colonial conditions shaping these encounters.

This subtle treatment of queer intimacy is characteristic of Yáng Shuāng-zǐ’s wider body of work. In the Sinophone world, Yáng is already well known for writing in the yuri (sappic/lesibian) genre, often blending queer desire with historical settings and literary imaginary worlds. Taiwan Travelogue introduces Anglophone readers to a writer whose work has long occupied an important place within Sinophone queer literary culture.

Add subhead here

One line in particular lingered with me long after finishing the novel:

There is nothing in the world more difficult to refuse than self-righteous goodwill.

The sentence speaks not only to colonialism in 1930s Taiwan, but also to contemporary forms of neocolonialism or liberal benevolence that leave little room for refusal or disagreement. Yáng never forces present day parallels onto the reader, but the connections feel unmistakable.

The International Booker Prize recognises both author and translator. Lin King’s translation is central to the novel’s achievement. King preserves the novel’s shifting textures and layered voices while guiding English-language readers through its historical and linguistic complexities – not just Mandarin Chinese, but also Japanese and Taigi used throughout the book. Even names and terms appear in several transliterations, tracing the complex linguistic legacy produced by Taiwan’s multiple colonial histories.

As King noted in her acceptance speech, translators are often deemed successful when their presence is rendered invisible within the text. Yet her work resists that invisibility. Through carefully placed footnotes and subtle contextual guidance, she makes translation feel less like a transparent bridge and more like an ongoing process of cultural negotiation and interpretation.

What makes Taiwan Travelogue stand out is the subtlety of its political vision. Yáng avoids dramatic revelations or moral certainty. Instead, she asks readers to sit with ambiguity: with partial understanding, unequal intimacy and the uneasy coexistence of everyday banter, affection and colonial violence.

It is this quiet complexity that makes the novel so memorable. Taiwan Travelogue begins as a richly sensory journey through food and travel, but gradually opens into questions of identity, history and geopolitics. Though set in colonial Taiwan, its reflections on cultural power, democracy and whose stories get told feel strikingly relevant today.

This article features references to books that have been included for editorial reasons, and may contain links to bookshop.org. If you click on one of the links and go on to buy something, The Conversation UK may earn a commission.

The Conversation

Eva Cheuk-Yin Li 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. Taiwan Travelogue wins 2026 International Booker – a deftly translated tale of food, love and history – https://theconversation.com/taiwan-travelogue-wins-2026-international-booker-a-deftly-translated-tale-of-food-love-and-history-283393

Why digital IDs are back on the UK government’s agenda

Source: The Conversation – UK – By Tim Holmes, Senior Lecturer in Criminology and Policing, Bangor University

PhotoGranary02/Shutterstock

In the recent king’s speech, King Charles outlined a series of UK government proposals, including plans to move forward with digital identity through the digital access to services bill.

The government says the scheme is designed to modernise access to public services, allowing people to verify who they are more quickly and securely. The proposal is voluntary. But after last September’s politically bruising debate over compulsory national ID cards, digital identity may once again become a contentious issue.

Digital IDs are electronic forms of identification used instead of paper documents. They are typically accessed through smartphones or smartcards. Finland became the first country to introduce a national electronic identity card in 1999, and over 130 countries have since rolled out some form of digital ID system.

The UK has revisited the idea repeatedly. In 2006, the Labour party’s attempt to introduce an identity card scheme collapsed amid concerns over cost, privacy and state surveillance. Despite the political failure of that project, the UK has steadily moved towards a digital-first approach in everyday life.

That’s something that is often overlooked in debates around identity systems. Outside a few areas such as international travel and right-to-work checks, online identification has become increasingly common. People already use apps to access banking, healthcare, transport and government services.

The pandemic also accelerated expectations around digital access to services. People increasingly expect interactions with government to mirror the convenience offered by organisations like banks and streaming platforms. They want services to be accessible on demand, on the device of their choosing, with updates and progress tracking built in.

Government figures suggest 93% of UK adults now own a smartphone. A recent report found that 90% of adults under 65 use smartphones daily. Even among over-65s, usage stood at 76%, suggesting digital technology is now embedded across generations.

The proposed digital ID scheme would store basic identifying information, like name, date of birth, nationality or residency status and a photo. This would be accessible through a smartphone.

With the introduction of GOV.UK wallet (which will let people save documents like a driving licence, veteran’s card or certain qualifications to their phone) in 2027, it’s possible that convenience could play a role in public acceptance of the idea.

Drawbacks

Some of the objections that haunted earlier ID card proposals have not disappeared, however. Critics of compulsory digital IDs have warned about threats to civil liberties and the potential expansion of state monitoring. While the new scheme is voluntary, campaigners argue that voluntary systems can gradually become unavoidable in practice.

The Digital Poverty Alliance charity has warned that digital ID could deepen existing inequality if access to services increasingly depends on smartphones or online verification. Elizabeth Anderson, the organisation’s chief executive, has argued that when public and private services begin relying on digital ID systems, offline alternatives can become “slow, complex, or difficult to access”.

That concern reflects a broader issue of digital inequality in the UK. Around 2.4 million households can’t afford their mobile phone contracts, including having to cancel or change services and missing payments. Also, more than 1.5 million people don’t own a smartphone. So, as digital ID becomes more widely adopted, the pressure to improve digital access and literacy will only grow.

The politics surrounding identity cards have also changed. Public concern over illegal immigration and small boat crossings has increased pressure on the government to appear decisive. In September 2025, Keir Starmer’s proposal for compulsory ID cards was presented by supporters as a tougher approach to immigration control.

A crowd of people protesting against digital ID
A protest against digital ID in London in December 2025.
Donovan Elmes/Shutterstock

But the backlash was swift. Critics questioned whether compulsory ID cards would reduce illegal immigration, and warned about issues with privacy, surveillance and government overreach. A petition opposing the proposal attracted millions of signatures, which may have contributed to the government’s eventual retreat towards the voluntary model now being proposed.




Read more:
Mandatory digital ID cards abandoned: where did the government go wrong?


That may prove politically safer. But the debate is unlikely to disappear.

Supporters see digital ID as a practical modernisation of public services and identity verification. Critics fear a gradual drift towards a society in which proving who you are becomes a routine requirement for everyday life.

So, the central issues remain unresolved. With Starmer already facing political pressure on several fronts, digital identity may become yet another divisive battleground.

The Conversation

Tim Holmes 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 digital IDs are back on the UK government’s agenda – https://theconversation.com/why-digital-ids-are-back-on-the-uk-governments-agenda-283022