Jul 21, 2025 GOATReads: Science & Technology

Inside the bizarre race to secure Earth’s nuclear tombs

With nuclear energy production increasing globally, the problem of what to do with the waste demands a solution. But where do you store something that stays dangerous for thousands of years? Uniformed guards with holstered guns stand at the entrance and watch you lumber past. Ahead lies a wasteland of barren metal gantries, dormant chimney stacks and abandoned equipment. You trudge towards the ruins of a large, derelict red-brick building. Your white hazmat suit and heavy steel-toe-capped boots make it difficult to walk. Your hands are encased in a double layer of gloves, your face protected by a particulate-filtering breathing mask. Not an inch of flesh is left exposed. Peering into the building’s gloomy interior, the beam from your head torch picks out machinery and vats turned orange with rust. On a wall nearby, a yellow warning sign featuring a black circle flanked by three black blades reminds you of the danger lurking inside. Apart from the sound of your own breathing behind your mask, the only thing you can hear is the crackling popcorn of your Geiger counter. This is what entering the Prydniprovsky Chemical Plant is like for nuclear researchers, including Tom Scott, professor of materials at the University of Bristol and head of the UK Government’s Nuclear Threat Reduction Network. Prydniprovsky was once a large Soviet materials and chemicals processing site on the outskirts of Kamianske in central Ukraine. Between 1948 and 1991, it processed uranium and thorium ore into concentrate, generating tens of millions of tonnes of low-level radioactive waste. When the Soviet Union dissolved, Prydniprovsky was abandoned and fell into disrepair. “The buildings are impressively awful and not for the faint-hearted,” says Scott. “As well as physical hazards, such as gaping holes in the floor, there’s no light or power. And obviously there are radiological hazards. Until very recently, the Ukrainian Government didn’t have a clue what had gone on at the site, so there were concerns about the high radiation levels and ground contamination.” When radiation levels are deemed too high for humans, Scott sends in the robots. At Prydniprovsky, it was a robotic dog, nicknamed ‘Spot’, that had been developed by Boston Dynamics. Spot, customised with radiation sensors, was wearing rubber socks – the sort you use to prevent your verruca spreading when you go swimming, but on this occasion, worn to prevent any radioactive material getting stuck on its feet. Once activated, Spot trotted off into the building to explore further, using a light detection and ranging (LIDAR) system to create a 3D image of the environment and pinpoint any radioactivity in the area. Scott and his team are known as industrial nuclear archaeologists, and they’re working to find, characterise and quantify the ‘legacy’ radioactive waste at sites around the world. “High-level radioactive waste gives off a significant amount of radioactivity, sufficient to make humans sick if they get too close,” he says. “Some of this waste will be dangerously radioactive for very long periods of time, meaning that it needs to be physically kept away from people and the environment to ensure that no harm is caused.” But finding legacy waste like this, which has been amassing since the 1940s, is only part of the challenge. Once it’s been found, it has to be isolated and stored long enough for it to no longer pose a threat. And that’s not easy. “Currently we’re storing our high-level wastes above ground in secure, shielded facilities,” Scott says. “Such facilities need to be replaced every so often because buildings and concrete structures can’t last indefinitely.” Safely storing the nuclear waste that already exists is only the start of the problem, however. With the world moving away from fossil fuels towards low-carbon alternatives, nuclear energy production is set to increase, which means more waste is going to be produced – a lot more. Currently, nuclear energy provides roughly nine per cent of global electricity from about 440 power reactors. By 2125, however, the UK alone is predicted to have 4.77 million m3 (168 million ft3) of packaged radioactive waste. That’s enough to fill 1,900 Olympic swimming pools. Hence, the world needs more safe storage sites for both legacy and new nuclear waste. And it needs them fast. Safe spaces In the UK, most nuclear waste is currently sent to Sellafield, a sprawling site in Cumbria, in the north-west of England, with about 11,000 employees, its own road and railway network, a special laundry service for contaminated clothes and a dedicated, armed police force (the Civil Nuclear Constabulary). Sellafield processes and stores more radioactive waste than anywhere in the world. But more hazardous material is on the way, much of which will come from the new nuclear power station being built at Hinckley Point in Somerset. To keep pace, experts have been hunting for other, much stranger, disposal solutions. It’s a challenge for nuclear agencies all around the world. All sorts of proposals have been put forward, including some bizarre ideas like firing nuclear waste into space. (The potential risk of a launch failure showering the planet with nuclear debris has silenced that proposal’s supporters.) So far, the most plausible solution is putting the waste in special containers and storing them 200–1,000m (660–3,280ft) underground in geological disposal facilities (GDFs). Eventually, these GDFs would be closed and sealed shut to avoid any human intrusion. These ‘nuclear tombs’ are the safest, most secure option for the long-term and minimise the burden on future generations. “In the UK, around 90 per cent of the volume of our legacy waste can be disposed of at surface facilities, but there’s about 10 per cent that we don’t currently have a disposal facility for. The solution is internationally accepted as being GDFs,” says Dr Robert Winsley, design authority lead at the UK’s Nuclear Waste Services. “We estimate that about 90 per cent of the radioactive material in our inventory will decay in the first 1,000 years or so. But a portion of that inventory will remain hazardous for much longer – tens of thousands, even hundreds of thousands of years. "GDFs use engineered barriers to work alongside the natural barrier of stable rock. This multi-barrier approach isolates and contains waste, ensuring no radioactivity ever comes back to the surface in levels that could do harm.” But how do you keep that radioactivity in the ground? Radioactive waste is typically classified as either low-, intermediate- or high-level waste. Before being disposed of deep underground, high-level waste is converted into glass (a process known as vitrification) and then packed in metal containers made of copper or carbon steel. Intermediate-level waste is typically packaged in stainless-steel or concrete containers, which are then placed in stable rock and surrounded by clay, cement or crushed rock. The process isn’t set in stone yet, though. Other materials, such as titanium- and nickel-based alloys, are being considered for the containers due to their resistance to corrosion. Meanwhile, scientists in Canada have developed ultra-thin copper cladding that would allow them to produce containers that take up less space, while providing the same level of protection. Rock solid The hunt is also on to find facilities with bedrock that can withstand events such as wars and natural disasters (‘short-term challenges’, geologically speaking). Sites that won’t change dramatically over the millennia needed for nuclear waste to no longer pose a risk. “A misconception is that we’re looking for an environment that doesn’t change, but the reality is the planet does change, very slowly,” says Stuart Haszeldine, professor of carbon capture and storage at the University of Edinburgh. “Our generation must find a way to bury the waste very deep to avoid radioactive pollution or exposure to people and animals up to one million years into the future.” To achieve this, the site ideally needs to be below sea level. If it’s above sea level, rainwater seeping down through fractures in the rock around the site might become radioactive and eventually find its way to the sea. When this radioactive freshwater meets the denser saltwater, it’ll float upwards, posing a risk to anything in the water above. Another challenge is predicting future glaciations, which happen roughly once every 100,000 years. During such a period, the sort of glaciers that cut the valleys in today’s landscape could form again, gouging new troughs in the bedrock that might breach an underground disposal facility. “Accurate and reliable future predictions depend on how well you understand the past,” says Haszeldine. “Typically, repository safety assessments cover a one-million-year timeframe, and regulations require a GDF site to cause fewer than one human death in a million for the next million years. Exploration doesn’t search for a single best site to retain radioactive waste, but one that’s good enough to fulfil these regulations.” Hiding places In 2002, the US approved the construction of a nuclear tomb in an extinct supervolcano in Yucca Mountain, Nevada, about 160km (100 miles) north-west of Las Vegas. Research estimated the chances of a future volcanic eruption disrupting the proposed repository were one in 63 million per year. So, it wasn’t the potential of a radioactive volcanic eruption that prevented the construction of the site going ahead. Instead, opponents cited concerns that it was too close to a fault line and, in 2011, US Congress ended funding for the project. Since then, waste from all US nuclear power plants has been building up in steel and concrete casks on the surface at 93 sites across the country. Other sites have fared better, however. Already this year, construction has begun on a nuclear tomb in Sweden, expected to be ready in the 2030s, but it’s also the year the world’s first tomb – at a site in Finland, called Onkalo (Finnish for ‘cave’ or ‘hollow’) – could open its doors for waste. “While there’s a lot of fractured rock at Onkalo, geologists carefully surveyed the area to work out the water flow,” says Haszeldine. “With little landscape topography, there’s no drive pushing water deep underground and so layers of water haven’t moved for hundreds of thousands of years.” In January 2025, the UK Government announced plans to permanently dispose of its 140 tonnes of radioactive plutonium, currently stored at Sellafield. In a statement, energy minister Michael Shanks cited plans to put it “beyond reach”, deep underground. Three potential sites in England and Wales are being explored by Nuclear Waste Services, and one of Haszeldine’s PhD students is independently investigating a fourth off the Cumbrian coast. The offshore site appears to be hydro-geologically stable (even over glacial timescales), but it would be expensive and difficult to engineer. “Currently, about 75 per cent of the UK’s nuclear waste is already stored across 20 sites,” says Winsley. “People are surprised to hear you’re never far away from the most hazardous radioactive waste, wherever you are in the UK. Our mission is to make this radioactive waste permanently safe, sooner.” Although the construction of excavated tunnels for nuclear tombs is expensive, the volume of waste needing to be buried is actually quite small. As such, a new ‘deep isolation’ approach is also being considered, which adapts the directional-drilling technology used to reach oil and gas reserves. Essentially, it involves drilling horizontal boreholes into a layer of claystone rock, which can absorb some radioactive leakage and self-seal if fractures form. Disposal canisters containing spent fuel rods from nuclear reactors would go into these boreholes. It’s potentially a simpler solution and doesn’t require anyone to excavate an entire network of large tunnels and chambers through different layers of rock deep underground. The deep isolation approach costs less than a third of what it costs to construct a nuclear tomb and uses smaller sites, but the canisters are harder to recover if anything goes wrong. Nevertheless, it’s a viable option for smaller nuclear countries and a second prototype is expected to undergo field testing at a deep borehole demonstration site in the UK in early 2025. Locked in When you think of radioactive waste, you probably imagine glowing rods or oil drums filled with green ooze and covered in warning symbols. In fact, plutonium oxide (a byproduct of nuclear reactors) is stored as a powder that changes colour depending on the chemical composition. But researchers are investigating ways to change its chemical and physical form to make it ready for long-term disposal. At the University of Sheffield, Dr Lewis Blackburn and his team are developing special ceramic materials in which to trap plutonium. Replacing atoms in the tightly ordered structure of ceramic with atoms of plutonium ‘locks in’ the radioactive particles. Think of it like a chain-link fence made of strong, tightly woven metal wires: the researchers are trying to swap out some of those wires with the dangerous radioactive particles to trap them inside the still-strong structure. The scientists are trying to engineer synthetic versions of ancient natural minerals to use as the ‘wires’ in these ceramic prisons – minerals like zirconolite and pyrochlore, left over from Earth’s formation. For billions of years, these minerals have been exposed to the environment, subjected to natural weathering and exposed to water, microbial activity and temperature changes – so the researchers know they’re made of strong stuff. To test whether their synthetic versions are equally durable and resistant to corrosion, the scientists fire high-energy ion beams at them for hours (to simulate radiation damage) while simultaneously exposing them to low-strength acid. “These tests build a picture of how we think these materials will behave over a very long timescale,” says Blackburn. “The half-life of plutonium 239 is about 24,100 years, but the requirement is to keep a ceramic in that state for up to a million years. Essentially, we’re trying to design materials that’ll last forever. I don’t think humans will be around in a million years’ time, so the work we do needs to outlast humanity.” Hide and seek But even after you’ve found a suitable site and buried the radioactive material safely inside it, you still need to warn future generations about what’s hidden inside. The trouble is, even if humans are still around in a million years’ time, there’s no guarantee the languages our ancestors speak, or the symbols they use, will be anything like those of today. In Japan, 1,000-year-old ‘tsunami stones’, which warned future generations to find high ground after earthquakes, have failed to prevent construction on vulnerable sites. Even the radiation symbol we use today (that black circle flanked by black blades on a yellow background) isn’t universally recognised. Research by the International Atomic Energy Agency found that only six per cent of the global population know what it signifies. That’s why scientists have been working with everyone from artists to anthropologists, librarians to linguists, and sculptors to science-fiction writers – to come up with other ways of warning future generations about nuclear tombs. Before the plans for the site at Yucca Mountain were abandoned, suggestions included libraries, time capsules and physical markers, including spikes in the ground. At Onkalo, as well as spikes, the panel has suggested a huge slab of black granite that would be heated to impassably hot temperatures by the Sun. More outlandish ideas have included linguist Thomas Sebeok’s proposal of an ‘atomic priesthood’ that would pass on nuclear folklore (in much the same way that generations of clergy have been relaying the tenets of their respective faiths for thousands of years). But why rely on people? The idea of so-called ‘ray cats’ has also been put forward – that is, genetically engineered creatures that would somehow change colour (or glow if bioluminescence could be harnessed) when exposed to radiation. Perhaps not as fear inducing as, say, a fire-breathing dragon – but if a glowing cat crossed your descendants’ path, it would probably make them think twice about progressing any further. “Some experts think the safest thing we can do is forget about the existence of the repositories altogether and not leave any markers that might entice intrigued ‘treasure hunters’,” says postdoctoral researcher Thomas Keating, from Linköping University, in Sweden. “So far, every attempt to warn people against entering a crypt has failed. Ancient Egyptian tombs are one example of where messages of danger have been wilfully or accidentally ignored by subsequent generations. Communicating the memory of nuclear repositories is a unique problem – no one has pulled off anything like this before.” While some back this active forgetting of future nuclear tombs, researchers like Scott are still trying to get everyone to remember the nuclear sites we’ve already forgotten. It’s like a game of nuclear ‘hide and seek’ – but the stakes are high, and there’s no room for error. Thinking back to his time at the Prydniprovsky Chemical Plant in Kamianske, Scott remembers the hunt for radioactive waste coming to an end. The robotic dog Spot returned from its foray in the darkness, and its rubber socks needed to be peeled off – carefully – and disposed of safely. Like the world’s increasing stockpiles of nuclear waste, they needed a home, fast. Currently, nuclear tombs are our best bet, but it’s a burden humanity must shoulder for thousands of years, long after the benefits gained from nuclear technology will have faded. “My personal opinion is, I don’t think we should allow future generations to forget about a geological disposal facility,” says Scott. “The material is both dangerous and, in longer timescales, potentially valuable. People need to be reminded of its presence.” Source of the article

Jul 19, 2025 GOATReads: Psychology

Here’s Why You Should Pause Before Replying to That Email

Quick replies are often driven by an unconscious need to feel safe, seen, or in control. In a world where everything is instant, it’s hard to pause before doing anything. When you wait too long, a real sense of urgency can take over. Your thoughts can run rampant when a message is particularly triggering. Often, however, the instinct to react—quickly, defensively, sometimes harshly—comes from an unconscious need to feel safe, seen, or in control. Replies driven by those instincts are often regrettable.   Pausing is hard, especially in a culture that values outcomes above all else. In a world where speed is mistaken for competence and certainty for strength, stillness can feel intolerable. It can feel like you’re failing if you’re not constantly fixing, moving, and making decisions. The irony is that much of the damage in leadership is done in those impulsive moments. The fix is to turn inward.   Questions to ask yourself  I often get asked, “What are the steps?” “What is the formula?” “How do I do this?!” The truth is, pausing is less about applying an external technique and more about cultivating internal spaciousness. One way to do that is to listen to what is happening at the moment. I always ask my clients three questions that can apply to almost every situation:   What am I not saying that needs to be said?   What am I saying that’s not being heard?   What’s being said that I’m not hearing?   That last question is especially vital. When you pause long enough to truly listen—beneath the words, beneath your defenses—you start to hear what’s being communicated beyond the surface. You hear the fear behind the anger and the longing behind the silence. Then, you start to respond, not just react. That’s the fundamental difference between a reply that invites conversation and one that leaves the recipient feeling puzzled, upset, or conflicted. It’s normal to lurch toward action to soothe your discomfort, but not because it’s the wisest move.  What you really want to say   I encourage my clients to slow down and turn inward before clicking send and ask not just why you react, but what is being touched on you when you do. When you feel the urge to react, ask:  What is really happening to me right now?   What old fear might be stirring up?   Am I serving an unmet need, or is this really how I want to respond?   The truth is, pausing takes practice. It’s not a trick but a discipline of presence. Like any discipline, it gets easier with repetition and support. In coaching, I often invite leaders to notice the physical sensations that arise right before they speak or hit send. That tightness in the chest and that clenched jaw—it’s the body saying: Wait. Even a breath—just one—can interrupt the cycle.   Silence speaks   It’s common to mistake motion for meaning and visibility for effectiveness. But some of the most powerful acts of leadership come not from doing, but from pausing. The old Buddhist bumper sticker gets it right: “Don’t just do something. Sit there.”   It’s in the pause that you connect with your deeper knowing—the part of you that can discern signal from noise and fear from clarity. When you resist the compulsion to react, you create conditions for something truer to emerge. Not from ego, but from presence. Not from fear, but from integrity.   At first, pausing might seem like self-betrayal. Over time, however, you will learn that pausing isn’t a weakness. It is power grounded in awareness, and in that space, leadership matures. Source of the article

Jul 18, 2025 GOATReads: Arts and Culture

Here’s How Superman’s Iconic Motto of ‘Truth, Justice and the American Way’ Evolved Over Time

The quintessential superhero has always stood for truth and justice, but the final part of his catchphrase has morphed to match a more connected world—and his place in it What is home for Superman, the world’s most famous immigrant: Krypton, the United States, the whole of planet Earth? Next week, the newest chapter in the Superman saga hits theaters; the teaser trailer for the James Gunn-directed offering includes a nod to this question. A bloodied Superman splayed out on a snowy tundra whistles for his trusty dog, Krypto, and achingly pleads, “Krypto. Home. Take me home.” “Home” in this case refers to Superman’s earthly refuge, the Fortress of Solitude. But the meaning of home to Superman may be best solved by looking at the evolution of Superman’s famous motto: “Truth, justice and the American way.” Born on the fictional planet Krypton, the alien baby Kal-El was sent by his parents from their doomed world to Earth in a small spacecraft. Expanded retellings identify Smallville, Kansas, as his landing spot, where he was raised on a farm by Martha and Jonathan Kent. Now named Clark Kent, he grows up with superpowers. On reaching adulthood, Kent moves to the city of Metropolis and gains employment at the city’s newspaper, the Daily Planet. Being a reporter allows him access to breaking news stories, and thus the man in the red cape and blue tights begins to protect the world as the virtuous Superman. Since his 1938 debut in Action Comics No. 1, one home for Superman has been America, even though he was born on a distant planet. By World War II, Superman had a much greater fight at hand than local gangsters and villains like Lex Luthor. Superman fought for his country. The covers of Superman and World’s Finest Comics from that era feature him hawking bonds to fund the war and battling Axis enemies. At first the Superman radio serial extolled his devotion simply to “truth and justice.” But in 1942, two years after its premiere and with World War II raging, the serial added “the American way” to its opening narration—thereby touting the Man of Steel’s patriotic commitment to the values of his homeland. Amid Cold War jingoism and the Red Scare, the opening narration for the 1950s television show starring George Reeves grandly announced: “Superman, who can change the course of mighty rivers, bend steel in his bare hands, and who, disguised as Clark Kent, mild-mannered reporter for a great metropolitan newspaper, fights a never-ending battle for truth, justice and the American way.” The catchphrase was now firmly ingrained in world consciousness. Over the years, in different media, the motto appeared in various forms. The 1966 “New Adventures of Superman” animated series swapped out the reference to America for “truth, justice and freedom,” an especially apt choice with the recent passage of the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. In the 1970s, the “Super Friends” cartoon adopted the catchphrase “truth, justice and peace for all mankind,” a wholesome message for young Saturday morning viewers. “‘The American way’ was absent from all media spanning April 1958, the final episode of the Reeves television series, until the pilot episode [which ended up running as the fifth episode of the series] of the ‘Superboy’ live-action television series in 1988,” says Roy Schwartz, a Superman expert and pop-culture historian. There the phrase is not part of the opening narration, but rather Superboy explains, “I fight for truth, justice and the American way” when first identifying himself. In the late 1970s, Superman reached his largest and most diverse audience to date with the eponymously named film starring Christopher Reeve. When asked by journalist Lois Lane what he stands for, the Man of Steel affirms, “truth, justice and the American way.” Lane laughs in disbelief. “You’re going to end up fighting every elected official in this country,” she retorts. This revealing moment shows Superman’s sincere belief in old-fashioned American values, while also acknowledging the cynicism of the era. Reeve’s Superman embodied a hopeful, principled hero trying to make people believe in goodness again, even if the world had grown distrustful in post-Watergate America. Despite the motto’s use on screen, comic books shied away from it. It was not until 1991, 53 years after Superman first appeared, that “truth, justice and the American way” graced a comic book’s page, says Schwartz. Superman No. 53 shows the hero proudly saluting, with the full phrase emblazoned in capital letters and punctuated by an exclamation point inside the stripes of a billowing American flag. Despite the patriotic cover and Superman’s reverent salute, he broadly acknowledges his global importance in a story about the rescue of a foreign president: “I believe in everything this flag stands for,” he says. “But as Superman I have to be a citizen of the world. I value all life, regardless of political borders.” The values of Superman’s earthly home extend to his heroics on an international stage. The television series “Smallville,” which followed the adventures of teen Clark Kent before his transformation into Superman, aired more than 200 episodes over ten seasons beginning in 2001. It depicts Superman’s home as the American heartland. His upbringing by good-hearted, wise and compassionate adoptive parents shapes his moral code. When Kent is running for high school president in the first season, a school reporter asks him about his platform. Unsure about his stance on the issues yet raised to do good, he responds: “I stand for truth, justice and other stuff.” The 2006 film Superman Returns also elides the classic mantra. Superman has spent an extended five years away from Earth to search for any remains of Krypton and his otherworldly roots. Wondering if this foray into the universe has changed Superman’s ideals, Daily Planet editor in chief Perry White immediately sends out reporters to see if he still stands for “truth, justice and all that stuff.” To much controversy, Superman renounces his American citizenship in Action Comics’ 2011 landmark 900th issue. “I’m tired of having my actions construed as instruments of U.S. policy,” he says. “‘Truth, justice and the American way’––it’s not enough anymore.” Responding to backlash, DC Comics’ co-publishers issued a statement: “Superman announces his intention to put a global focus on his never ending battle, but he remains, as always, committed to his adopted home and his roots as a Kansas farm boy from Smallville.” DC affirmed Superman as shaped by his American upbringing but firmly situated him as a citizen of the world. Ten years later, the most recent television series starring the Big Blue Boy Scout, “Superman & Lois,” plays on the “American way” and questions about home in the first season. Interviewing Superman, Lane asks what he stands for, to which he responds: “Truth, justice.” Prodding further, she questions: “The American way?” An amused Superman replies, “I think someone’s just trying to get me to admit I was raised here.” Months later, DC officially changed Superman’s motto to “truth, justice and a better tomorrow.” As DC publisher Jim Lee explained at the time, “Superman has long been a symbol of hope who inspires people from around the world, and it is that optimism and hope that powers him forward with this new mission statement.” This new mission statement plays on one of Superman’s nicknames: The Man of Tomorrow. Back in May 1939, shortly before Superman received his first self-titled comic book, the wildly popular character appeared in New York World’s Fair Comics No. 1. That tie-in to the 1939 World’s Fair was written by Superman creators Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. The fair’s theme, “The World of Tomorrow,” inspired Superman’s new “Man of Tomorrow” moniker. The name nodded to Superman’s futuristic character and extraordinary powers that were meant to usher in a better future. Siegel and Shuster’s original tagline, from Action Comics No. 1, reads: “A physical marvel, a mental wonder, Superman is destined to reshape the destiny of a world!” The new motto “truth, justice and a better tomorrow” thus brings Superman closer to his creators’ vision. Siegel and Shuster always intended for the Last Son of Krypton to be a citizen of the world sent to make Earth a better place. As early as Action Comics No. 2, Superman ventured to South America, where he rescues Lois Lane from a firing squad and pre-empts a war. A similar scenario, although with a different international backdrop, is hinted at in the official trailer for the forthcoming Superman film. During an interview with Lane, Superman defends himself in the face of government sanction: “I stopped a war,” he says in disbelief over widespread criticism of his actions. Some still see the value in the original motto. “For me, it will always be ‘truth, justice, and the American way,’” says Brad Meltzer, a novelist and comic book author. “And I don’t think many people at DC will argue that with you. In fact, when I wrote [the children’s book] I Am Superman, I asked them if I could use ‘truth, justice and the American way.’ And everyone was completely lovely about it. In my humble opinion, I don’t think it’s as much of a fight as people keep insisting. It was just a way to add some more global accessibility. But right now, we need the ‘American way’ part—the hope, kindness and empathy that is at the core of the character—more than ever. Look around. We’re starving for Superman and his version of the American way. If you think the ‘American way’ part is about superiority, cruelty or dominance, you’re missing the whole point of Superman and comic books.” Superman was never meant to be a hero only for Americans. He was meant to serve the world. In that sense, Superman’s home does not matter even as his search for a personal identity has surely been an ongoing and intriguing storyline across media and decades. No doubt, many moviegoers worldwide eagerly anticipate the release of Gunn’s film to see where Superman’s request to go home takes him––the Fortress of Solitude and perhaps beyond. For over 80 years, Superman has been a champion of the oppressed, the epitome of social conscience, and an absolute supporter of democracy and responsible citizenship. In that way, he embodies America’s most deeply embedded, idealistic values. Those values guide Superman, a global hero without borders. Source of the article

Jul 17, 2025 GOATReads:Sociology

Is population decline good for nature? Japan shows that may not be the case

Research shows that biodiversity recovery needs to be actively managed, especially in depopulating areas. Since 1970, 73% of global wildlife has been lost, while the world’s population has doubled to 8 billion. Research shows this isn’t a coincidence but that population growth is causing a catastrophic decline in biodiversity. Yet a turning point in human history is underway. According to UN projections, the number of people in 85 countries will be shrinking by 2050, mostly in Europe and Asia. By 2100, the human population is on course for global decline. Some say this will be good for the environment. In 2010, Japan became the first Asian country to begin depopulating. South Korea, China and Taiwan are following close behind. In 2014, Italy was the first in southern Europe, followed by Spain, Portugal and others. We call Japan and Italy “depopulation vanguard countries” on account of their role as forerunners for understanding possible consequences in their regions. Given assumptions that depopulation could help deliver environmental restoration, we have been working with colleagues Yang Li and Taku Fujita to investigate whether Japan is experiencing what we have termed a biodiversity “depopulation dividend” or something else. Since 2003, hundreds of citizen scientists have been collecting biodiversity data for the Japanese government’s Monitoring Sites 1,000 project. We used 1.5 million recorded species observations from 158 sites. These were in wooded, agricultural and peri-urban (transitional spaces on outskirts of cities) areas. We compared these observations against changes in local population, land use and surface temperature for periods of five to 20 years. Our study, published in the journal Nature Sustainability, includes birds, butterflies, fireflies, frogs and 2,922 native and non-native plants. These landscapes have experienced the greatest depopulation since the 1990s. Due to the size of our database, choice of sites and the positioning of Japan as a depopulation vanguard for north-east Asia, this is one of the largest studies of its kind. Japan is not Chernobyl Biodiversity continued to decrease in most of the areas we studied, irrespective of population increase or decrease. Only where the population remains steady is biodiversity more stable. However, the population of these areas is ageing and will decline soon, bringing them in line with the areas already seeing biodiversity loss. Unlike in Chernobyl, where a sudden crisis caused an almost total evacuation which stimulated startling accounts of wildlife revival, Japan’s population loss has developed gradually. Here, a mosaic pattern of changing land use emerges amid still-functioning communities. While most farmland remains under cultivation, some falls into disuse or abandonment, some is sold for urban development or transformed into intensively farmed landscapes. This prevents widespread natural succession of plant growth or afforestation (planting of new trees) that would enrich biodiversity. In these areas, humans are agents of ecosystem sustainability. Traditional farming and seasonal livelihood practices, such as flooding, planting and harvesting of rice fields, orchard and coppice management, and property upkeep, are important for maintaining biodiversity. So depopulation can be destructive to nature. Some species thrive, but these are often non-native ones that present other challenges, such as the drying and choking of formerly wet rice paddy fields by invasive grasses. Vacant and derelict buildings, underused infrastructure and socio-legal issues (such as complicated inheritance laws and land taxes, lack of local authority administrative capacity, and high demolition and disposal costs) all compound the problem. Even as the number of akiya (empty, disused or abandoned houses) increases to nearly 15% of the nation’s housing stock, the construction of new dwellings continues remorselessly. In 2024, more than 790,000 were built, due partly to Japan’s changing population distribution and household composition. Alongside these come roads, shopping malls, sports facilities, car parks and Japan’s ubiquitous convenience stores. All in all, wildlife has less space and fewer niches to inhabit, despite there being fewer people. What can be done Data shows deepening depopulation in Japan and north-east Asia. Fertility rates remain low in most developed countries. Immigration provides only a short-term softer landing, as countries currently supplying migrants, such as Vietnam, are also on course for depopulation. Our research demonstrates that biodiversity recovery needs to be actively managed, especially in depopulating areas. Despite this there are only a few rewilding projects in Japan. To help these develop, local authorities could be given powers to convert disused land into locally managed community conservancies. Nature depletion is a systemic risk to global economic stability. Ecological risks, such as fish stock declines or deforestation, need better accountability from governments and corporations. Rather than spend on more infrastructure for an ever-dwindling population, for example, Japanese companies could invest in growing local natural forests for carbon credits. Depopulation is emerging as a 21st-century global megatrend. Handled well, depopulation could help reduce the world’s most pressing environmental problems, including resource and energy use, emissions and waste, and nature conservation. But it needs to be actively managed for those opportunities to be realised. Source of the article

Jul 16, 2025 GOATReads:Sociology

Bureaucrats get a bad rap, but they deserve more credit − a sociologist of work explains why

It’s telling that U.S. President Donald Trump’s administration wants to fire bureaucrats. In its view, bureaucrats stand for everything that’s wrong with the United States: overregulation, inefficiency and even the nation’s deficit, since they draw salaries from taxpayers. But bureaucrats have historically stood for something else entirely. As the sociologist Max Weber argued in his 1921 classic “Economy and Society,” bureaucrats represent a set of critical ideals: upholding expert knowledge, promoting equal treatment and serving others. While they may not live up to those ideals everywhere and every day, the description does ring largely true in democratic societies. I know this firsthand, because as a sociologist of work I’ve studied federal, state and local bureaucrats for more than two decades. I’ve watched them oversee the handling of human remains, screen travelers for security threats as well as promote primary and secondary education. And over and over again, I’ve seen bureaucrats stand for Weber’s ideals while conducting their often-hidden work. Bureaucrats as experts and equalizers Weber defined bureaucrats as people who work within systems governed by rules and procedures aimed at rational action. He emphasized bureaucrats’ reliance on expert training, noting: “The choice is only that between ‘bureaucratisation’ and ‘dilettantism.’” The choice between a bureaucrat and a dilettante to run an army − in his days, like in ours − seems like an obvious one. Weber saw that bureaucrats’ strength lies in their mastery of specialized knowledge. I couldn’t agree more. When I studied the procurement of whole body donations for medical research, for example, the state bureaucrats I spoke with were among the most knowledgeable professionals I encountered. Whether directors of anatomical services or chief medical examiners, they knew precisely how to properly secure, handle and transfer human cadavers so physicians could get trained. I felt greatly reassured that they were overseeing the donated bodies of loved ones. Weber also described bureaucrats as people who don’t make decisions based on favors. In other forms of rule, he noted, “the ruler is free to grant or withhold clemency” based on “personal preference,” but in bureaucracies, decisions are reached impersonally. By “impersonal,” Weber meant “without hatred or passion” and without “love and enthusiasm.” Put otherwise, the bureaucrats fulfill their work without regard to the person: “Everyone is treated with formal equality.” The federal Transportation Security Administration officers who perform their duties to ensure that we all travel safely epitomize this ideal. While interviewing and observing them, I felt grateful to see them not speculate about loving or hating anyone but treating all travelers as potential threats. The standard operating procedures they followed often proved tedious, but they were applied across the board. Doing any favors here would create immense security risks, as the recent Netflix action film “Carry-On” − about an officer blackmailed into allowing a terrorist to board a plane − illustrates. Advancing the public’s interests Finally, Weber highlighted bureaucrats’ commitment to serving the public. He stressed their tendency to act “in the interests of the welfare of those subjects over whom they rule.” Bureaucrats’ expertise and adherence to impersonal rules are meant to advance the common interest: for young and old, rural and urban dwellers alike, and many more. The state Department of Elementary and Secondary Education staff that I partnered with for years at the Massachusetts Commission on LGBTQ Youth exemplified this ethic. They always impressed me by the huge sense of responsibility they felt toward all state residents. Even when local resources varied, they worked to ensure that all young people in the state − regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity − could thrive. Based on my personal experience, while they didn’t always get everything right, they were consistently committed to serving others. Today, bureaucrats are often framed by the administration and its supporters as the root of all problems. Yet if Weber’s insights and my observations are any guide, bureaucrats are also the safeguards that stand between the public and dilettantism, favoritism and selfishness. The overwhelming majority of bureaucrats whom I have studied and worked with deeply care about upholding expertise, treating everyone equally and ensuring the welfare of all. Yes, bureaucrats can slow things down and seem inefficient or costly at times. Sure, they can also be co-opted by totalitarian regimes and end up complicit in unimaginable tragedies. But with the right accountability mechanisms, democratic control and sufficient resources for them to perform their tasks, bureaucrats typically uphold critical ideals. In an era of growing hostility, it’s key to remember what bureaucrats have long stood for − and, let’s hope, still do. Source of the article

Jul 15, 2025 GOATReads: Science & Technology

India can't wish away coal - but can it be made cleaner?

India has always taken a hard position on coal, arguing that it is crucial for its energy security and developmental needs. But energy experts and environment campaigners are increasingly saying it should at least try to decarbonise or curtail emissions from coal-fired power plants, if it can't be phased out altogether. "You can't wish away coal," Ashok Lavasa, a former secretary of union ministries of finance, and environment, forest and climate change, said at an event on 1 July. "The question is, if coal is king, then can it be a benevolent king?" This signals to the fact that, realistically speaking, coal - albeit cleaner coal - may remain the primary power source of energy in India, despite years of international climate talks asking for the highly polluting fossil fuel to be phased out entirely. But why has India - the world's third largest carbon emitter - decided to stick to coal in the first place? After all, the country has international obligations to significantly cut its carbon emissions, along with its own target to bring down the levels to net zero by 2070. A part of the answer lies in the rising power demands of the country. India's electricity demand has grown by more than 9% between 2021 and 2025, surpassing a previous prediction of 6.6% - and it is now forecasted to double by 2030. Coal-fired power plants have generated more than 70% of the total electricity supply every year since the early 2000s - a figure that remains unchanged. But the environmental cost of this reliance on coal is huge. Estimates suggest that India's electricity generation alone accounts for more than 40% of the annual carbon emissions – and nearly three-quarters of that electricity comes from coal-burning. The country has made progress in meeting its renewable energy targets - it contributes 46% of India's total installed capacity - but renewable sources have limitations. They generate electricity when the sun is up and the wind is blowing. Even at daytime, experts say, supply from renewables can fluctuate, whereas thermal plants remain a constant source of electricity and are able to cater to peak demand in the evenings and at nighttime. What's more, India's energy storage capacity - or the ability to store excess electricity from renewables at daytime - has not been able to keep pace with the expansion of resources. "This means that there is no other option [other than thermal energy for constant supply] unless and until we have large-scale storage quantities in the system," said Rajiv Porwal, director with Grid India, the grid controller of India under the ministry of power, speaking at the 1July event, organised by the Centre for Science and Environment (CSE). Experts say constant supply from thermal plants is crucial for the stability of the grid, or the network of towers and transmission lines that carries electricity from power plants to consumers. "Any large mismatch of demand and supply will destabilise the grid and that can mean power-cuts and blackouts, similar to what we recently saw in Spain," says Anjan Kumar Sinha, an independent power sector expert. With all these factors at play, India is looking to reduce emissions from coal-fired power plants, instead of phasing out coal completely. A recent report by the CSE said that decarbonisation from coal-based thermal plants alone can cut down the country's greenhouse gas emissions by 30%. This is particularly significant given the country's commitment to reduce emissions intensity (carbon emissions produced per unit of a country's economic output) by 45% by 2030 under the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change. But there are challenges. The common problem thermal plants face is that they must keep running at least at 55% capacity even at daytime, despite having alternate renewable sources like wind and solar power to rely on. That's because operators cannot ramp up capacity to the fullest at short notice, particularly during the peak hours of evening when supply from renewables is down. Experts say there is an urgent need to make thermal plants more efficient so they can run at a lower capacity. "How low can we go [to bring down the minimum running level threshold] is the question," said Ramesh Veeravalli, a member with India's Central Electricity Regulatory Commission, speaking at the event. "Technically it is possible." Another way to improve efficiency of plants is to adapt technologies that capture carbon dioxide emissions to keep them from escaping into the atmosphere But some say this has produced limited results, with one estimate by the World Resources Institute saying the technology at present captures only about 0.1% of the global emissions. A third suggestion is to burn agricultural residue in the place of coal in thermal plants. "This idea has led to a substantial reduction in coal usage in thermal power plants in Delhi and surrounding cities," said Parth Kumar, a programme manager with CSE that has suggested methods of reducing emissions in its recent report. "But other parts of the country are yet to adopt this seriously, even though regulation requires them to," he added. Experts say that reducing emissions from coal-fired power plants would need larger systemic changes, involving huge costs. But how much that cost would come down to - and who would bear it - are tough questions with no immediate answers. Source of the article

Jul 14, 2025 GOATReads: Psychology

The fascinating science of pain – and why everyone feels it differently

Do you scream when you stub your toe? Could you play a grand final with a shattered jaw, or work all day as your belly fills with blood? When it comes to suffering, perspective is everything Some say it was John Sattler’s own fault. The lead-up to the 1970 rugby league grand final had been tense; the team he led, the South Sydney Rabbitohs, had lost the 1969 final. Here was an opportunity for redemption. The Rabbitohs were not about to let glory slip through their fingers again. Soon after the starting whistle, Sattler went in for a tackle. As he untangled – in a move not uncommon in the sport at the time – he gave the Manly Sea Eagles’ John Bucknall a clip on the ear. Seconds later – just three minutes into the game – the towering second rower returned favour with force: Bucknall’s mighty right arm bore down on Sattler, breaking his jaw in three places and tearing his skin; he would later need eight stitches. When his teammate Bob McCarthy turned to check on him, he saw his captain spurting blood, his jaw hanging low. Forty years later Sattler would recall that moment. One thought raged in his shattered head: “I have never felt pain like this in my life.” But he played on. Tackling heaving muscular players as they advanced. Being tackled in turn, around the head, as he pushed forward. All the while he could feel his jaw in pieces. At half-time the Rabbitohs were leading. In the locker room, Sattler warned his teammates, “Don’t play me out of this grand final.” McCarthy told him, “Mate, you’ve got to go off.” He refused. “I’m staying.” Sattler played the whole game. The remaining 77 minutes. At the end, he gave a speech and ran a lap of honour. The Rabbitohs had won. The back page of the next day’s Sunday Mirror screamed “BROKEN JAW HERO”. A photograph of Sattler, his heavy green and red jersey rolled up to the elbows, the neck grubby with blood, his mangled swollen jaw, carried on the shoulders of teammates, has become one of Australian sport’s most well-known images. His grand final performance has been hailed as “the most famous show of playing through pain in Australian sporting history”. Sattler, inextricably linked to the jaw he ultimately had to have wired back together, for decades hence was lauded for his courage, celebrated as one of the toughest men to have played the game. Because John Sattler could withstand the pain. How can a person bitten by a shark calmly paddle their surfboard to safety, then later liken the sensation of the predator clamping down on their limb to the feeling of someone giving their arm “a shake”? How is it that a woman can have a cyst on her ovary burst, her abdomen steadily fill with blood, but continue working at her desk for six hours? Or that a soldier can have his legs blown off then direct his own emergency treatment? Each one of us feels pain. We all stub our toes, burn our fingers, knock our knees. And worse. The problem with living in just one mind and body is that we can never know whether our six out of 10 on the pain scale is the same as the patient in the chair next to us. About one in five adults experience chronic pain; it can be debilitating and patients have been historically dismissed, disrespected and under-treated. Acute pain is different; it’s short periods of pain usually associated with an injury, illness or tissue damage. Because all humans experience acute injury or illness, we each have a sense of our pain response. Many of us wonder, “Do I have a high pain threshold?” And we have each at some point been asked – by a doctor, by a nurse, by a teammate – “What’s your pain on a scale of one to 10?” The ability of some people to experience serious injury without appearing to feel serious pain has been fodder for legend and research for centuries. Withstanding pain has been heralded as heroism or a freakish anomaly. But what is happening in the body and mind of a person who does not seem to feel the pain they “should” be feeling. Do we all have the capacity to be one of these heroic freaks? And how did John Sattler play those 77 minutes? Questions like these rattled around the mind of Lorimer Moseley when he showed up at Sydney’s Royal North Shore hospital years ago as an undergraduate physiotherapy student. He wanted to interrogate a quip made by a neurology professor as he left the lecture theatre one day, that the worst injuries are often the least painful. So Moseley sat in the emergency room and watched people come in, recording their injuries and asking them how much they hurt. “And this guy came in with a hammer stuck in his neck – the curly bit had got in the back and was coming out the front and blood was pouring all down,” Moseley recalls. “But he was relaxed. He just walked in holding the hammer, relaxed. Totally fine.” Then the man turned around, hit his knee on a low table and began jumping up and down at the pain of the small knock. “And I think, ‘Whoa, what is happening there?’” The curious student ruled out drugs, alcohol, shock. He realised that the reason the man did not feel pain from his hammer injury was due to the very point of pain itself. “Pain is a feeling that motivates us to protect ourselves,” says Moseley, now the chair in physiotherapy and a professor of clinical neurosciences at the University of South Australia. “One of the beautiful things about pain is that it will motivate us to protect the body part that’s in danger, really anatomically specific – it can narrow it right down to a tiny little spot.” It is an evolutionary self-protection response that meant the man with the hammer in his neck did not appear to feel pain. To feel pain would not have aided his survival in that moment, Moseley says. Instead, fear is probably what impelled him to race to the emergency ward. “So these people on the battlefield, their arm gets ripped off, they look for their arm, they pick it up, they walk to safety, no arm pain. Perfect. That is an extraordinarily bold and sophisticated protective system.” Prof Michael Nicholas is used to stories like these. “You can see it in probably every hospital ward. If you stay around long enough you’ll hear comments like ‘this person has more pain than they should have’ or ‘you might be surprised that they’re not in pain’,” he says. “What that highlights to me is the general tendency for all of us to think there should be a close relationship between a stimulus like an injury or a noxious event and the degree of pain the person feels. “In fact, that’s generally wrong. But it doesn’t stop us believing it.” The reason we get it wrong, Nicholas says, “is that we have a sort of mind-body problem”. Eastern medicine and philosophy has long recognised the interconnectedness of body and mind, and so too did the west in early civilisations. In ancient Greece the Algea, the gods of physical pain, were also gods associated with psychic pain – with grief and distress. But in the 1600s the French philosopher René Descartes set western thinking on a different course, asserting that the mind and body were separate entities. “In a lot of countries we tend to want to downplay any possible psychological influences and we want to say it’s all physical,” says Nicholas, a director at the University of Sydney’s Pain Management Research Institute. Being told that pain has a psychological component can be distressing, particularly for those who experience chronic pain. It can feel dismissive, a suggestion that the pain is not real. “When people come to see me, they’re often worried they’re being told it’s all in their head,” Nicholas says. “Of course pain is in your head. It’s in your brain. You know, it’s the brain that is where you get that experience … It’s never all physical.” This is true of people who tolerate acute pain. It’s never all physical. And it has little to do with heroism or freakishness. Sometime between 11am and 11.30am on 22 May 2024, as I sat at a big white conference table, before a screen of colleagues zooming into a meeting, a cyst on my right ovary exploded. I felt pain right away. With my right hand, I pressed hard into my lower stomach and breathed in and out slowly to ride through the feeling. Jesus, I thought. I shouldn’t have eaten so many Jols. I returned to my desk but still felt sore so went for a walk around the block to shake it off. I felt a little better, returned to my computer, popped in and out of smaller meetings, answered emails, edited articles, finished work at 5.30pm, then walked half an hour to my sister’s apartment and lay on her couch. While the pain was fairly strong I was still convinced an overconsumption of sugar-free sweets was responsible. Only when my sister called a helpline two hours later and a nurse told me to go to hospital did I relent. We arrived at emergency about 9pm, 10 hours after that first sharp twinge. Later in the night, as I climbed on to an examination bed, I froze. Pain sloshing around my abdomen violently halted my movement. As I stopped there silent, halfway to lying down, I saw the serious look on the doctor’s face. I realised that perhaps my report of my pain was an unreliable guide. She was looking for other clues. (I would later learn that medical staff use self-reported pain as only one of a few measures to assess a patient, others include observations of movement, the ability to talk, facial expressions and guarding.) It was the middle of the night before an MRI returned the findings that I had spent the day with what the doctor called “a belly full of blood”. The next day I had surgery. At my bedside an obstetric surgeon shook his head as he explained what was going on in my body. A burst cyst has a reputation for being very painful, he said. Why had I rated my pain as a six or seven? Didn’t it make more sense to give it a 10? I shrugged. I’d wanted to give myself some wriggle room. So why was my experience and report of pain so out of whack with the tissue damage my body experienced? “It actually starts with our judgments,” says Associate Prof Melissa Day, from the University of Queensland. “So it’s not what happens to us. It’s how we judge what happens to us.” In other words, if we give ourselves a convincing explanation for what we feel, an explanation that does not include danger or damage to our body – if we think it’s the Jols and it will pass – we are less likely to feel pain severely. We have a tendency to valorise those who do not complain of pain when they confront an acute injury. To say this is a tough person, a stoic person. But individual toughness or weakness is not what’s at play in pain responses, and the same person can have two entirely different reactions to pain-inducing events in different contexts. When Lorimer Moseley tried a heat pad pain test on himself, increasing the temperature on the pad on his hand and noting his rising pain levels, it took removing the pad from his skin to realise he had given himself a two-and-a-half-degree burn. “This happens to people who do a lot of pain research because you just get exposed and your brain doesn’t think it’s worth protecting you as much as it should,” he says. “But I put my hand in hot water to do the dishes – I’m hopeless.” Just five years ago the International Association for the Study of Pain revised its definition of pain. The new definition follows what is called a bio-psychosocial model, which recognises not just the biological causes of pain but the role of psychology and social context in creating, amplifying – or dulling – it. While this is the contemporary thinking about pain, says Nicholas: “Most people don’t use it. Most clinicians, unfortunately, even.” The biological causes are clearest. Pain tolerance, researchers speaking to Guardian Australia say, has some genetic component. Red-haired people, for example, Moseley says, have on average a different threshold at which their nerves are triggered by a change in temperature in a heat-based pain threshold test. Complex social factors play a substantial role: multiple studies have found that people from a lower socioeconomic status experience both more chronic pain and, in experimental pain tests, demonstrate lower acute pain thresholds. For all people, injury or tissue damage activates the brain’s warning system that creates pain. The associated stress can trigger a psycho-biological response that helps the hurt person get through it without being immobilised. “Short-term stress actually motivates us,” Day says. “Gets adrenaline pumping through our bodies, allows us to have natural endorphins to push through. There’s also endogenous opioids that our brain releases to have that short-term relief of pain.” The psychological elements are becoming more widely understood. “One thing we know is perhaps the strongest predictor of pain tolerance is how people think about pain,” Day says. “If we think ‘this is terrible, this is awful, it’s going to do me serious damage’ – those types of people will have lower tolerance.” This includes people who tend to be anxious or who catastrophise pain. The perception of the damage being done can have a substantial role. A violinist is more likely to report higher levels of pain when a pain stimulus is applied to their dominant playing hand than when their other hand is subjected to the same stimulus, Moseley says – because an injury to their dominant hand could end their career. Farmers are known to delay seeking treatment , he adds. “It might be that farmers expect that a part of being a farmer is to have pain. So [their brain] doesn’t urge them to do anything about it. Their expectation is: you have pain.” Our past experience of pain also plays a substantial role. Should I have another cyst explode, Moseley suggests I might feel more pain – I will have learned that this sensation signals serious damage and should not be ignored. Research suggests men generally have higher pain thresholds than women. Pain fluctuates for women at periods of hormonal change. Moseley says differences in sensitivity in immune systems and response to hormones plays a part. But so does “the way that they’re related to from birth”. “Nature versus nurture – you can’t really separate them,” Day says. “There’s a range of factors there in terms of learning histories about pain and how from a young age responses to pain are very much linked to gender as well – how parents respond to a son versus a daughter.” As psychologists working in pain, Day and Nicholas are interested in what behaviours might help people in pain tolerate or reduce the amount of pain they are experiencing. “The best coping techniques will be different for different individuals and will be different across different contexts” Day says. Nevertheless, for acute pain suppression – “I’m not thinking about this because I’ve got this goal I need to achieve” – can work well in the short term, says Day. (“Longer term, it rebounds.”) Emotional regulation strategies, meditation and learning how to calm the body can be effective. Working on beliefs about the pain and shifting attention away from it, says Nicholas, fall under individual control. “If you can control those factors you will have a better response to pain,” Day says. An individual’s sensitivity to reward and punishment plays a role in acute pain thresholds too, Day says. People who are more sensitive to punishment tend more often to retract at the appearance of pain, whereas those more oriented towards rewards are more likely to push through it to achieve a goal, she says. Elite athletes are known to have higher pain thresholds as they are habituated to pain in their training regimes. Which is to say, if you are in a grand final and you think you’ve got a shot at winning, and you know the national team selectors are watching, your fixation on your goal might increase your ability to ignore the pain radiating from your jaw. Is that what made John Sattler play on? I will never know. He died in 2023. But we know he had all the predispositions for withstanding acute injury: he was habituated to pain as an athlete in a game famed for its big hits, he was reward-oriented in a moment when the stakes were high, he was a male socialised to value withstanding pain as a badge of toughness, and saw toughness valued as a social virtue. The clash would have got his endogenous opioids pumping. His attention was redirected away from his injury. Pain is a protective mechanism but, from all we know about that day, Sattler judged protecting his jaw as less important than claiming the premiership. “People who think they have a higher pain threshold – we will never know,” Moseley says. “It’s the same human that makes the pain and that tolerates it.” And so the experience of acute pain is caught in the realm of mystery and mythology; where we can understand much of what is happening in a body and part of what is happening in a brain but never actually know what another person feels. The legend of John Sattler goes that after that fateful right hook from Bucknall, the bloodied captain turned to his teammate Matthew Cleary. That no one knew, perhaps not even himself, the damage that had been done to him became his mythological power. “Hold me up,” he said. “So they don’t know I’m hurt.” Source of the article

Jul 11, 2025 GOATReads: Arts and Culture

16 Ways People Find Purpose Around the World

A new study suggests that even across cultures, there is a lot of similarity in where humans find purpose in life and how it brings us fulfillment. Having a purpose in life has been found to have many benefits for people, including better health and emotion management, less stress during stressful times, and even economic success. And it is considered a key to happiness and well-being. But does it matter where your sense of purpose comes from? Do different sources of purpose affect our well-being in different ways? Answers to these questions are hard to come by, because most research on purpose doesn’t look that granularly at the concept. Instead, it’s often measured by asking people how much they agree with general statements, like “I have aims and objectives for living” or “My life is meaningful”—not specifically what those meaningful aims are. But, in a new study, researchers Michael Mask and Steven Heine of the University of British Columbia and their colleagues aimed to get more detail about people’s purposeful pursuits across cultures and to see their effect on “the good life.” Ultimately, they found that our purposes around the world have a lot in common. Cultural similarities around purpose In the first part of their study, Mask and his colleagues asked 200 American participants to write about seven things that gave them a sense of purpose in life. Then, they analyzed over 2,000 responses to come up with 16 general categories of purpose that encompassed everyone’s answers: Self-improvement: Becoming the best you can be Family: Supporting and providing for your family and caretaking Relationships: Searching for, finding, or maintaining close relationships Religion/spirituality: Living in accordance with and meeting the standards of your religious or spiritual beliefs Recognition: Being respected and having high status Happiness: Being happy, enjoying life, and feeling good Self-sufficiency: Being able to take care of yourself physically and financially, and having the freedom to do as you wish Material wealth: Getting rich, owning nice things, and buying whatever you want Internal standards: Knowing who you are and what you stand for and living your life according to these principles Positive impact: Making the world a better place Mattering: Inspiring others and leaving a legacy; making an impact Occupational fulfillment: Finding your calling through work; doing your job well and working hard Persevering: Handling what life throws at you—not giving up and dealing with the struggles inherent in life Physical health: Taking care of your body and being healthy Inner peace: Being grateful for what you have and accepting what you can’t change Service: Serving your country or community After testing out these categories with a different group of 100 American participants, their team surveyed over 1,000 people from Japan, India, Poland, and the United States to find out how much these categories reflected their own purpose in life. Specifically, participants reported how much each source of purpose influenced the decisions they made and guided their behavior, as well as how happy, meaningful, and psychologically rich their lives were—all aspects of “the good life.” (Psychological richness involves experiencing diverse, challenging, and interesting activities that evoke complex emotions and change your perspective.) Analyzing the results, the researchers found that people in each of these unique cultures had very similar sources of purpose and prioritized each category similarly, too. “Happiness,” “self-sufficiency,” and “family” were in the top five for each country, while “religion” and “recognition” were in the bottom five for each country. Also, there was a lot of agreement on what sources of purpose went along with more meaning, happiness, or psychological richness in life. This finding surprised Heine, who, as a cultural psychologist, is used to seeing more variability among people of different cultures. “What stands out from our finding is just how much agreement there was within these four quite different countries about what kinds of purposes are associated with a good life,” he says. “They’re not identical, but there is a striking amount of similarity.” Different purposes for different ends So how did different types of purposes relate to different ways of living well? The researchers found that people whose purpose came from “mattering” were the most likely to have a more meaningful life, overall, with “perseverance” and “service” also tied to meaning. This fits in with past research explaining how meaning in life involves a sense of purpose, coherence, and mattering, says Heine. “It makes sense that ‘mattering’ is especially linked with meaning, as it [suggests people] want to make a difference in the world,” he says. “And ‘service’ means you are guided by contributing to others—another source of meaning.” People felt happier depending on how much they pursued “inner peace,” with the pursuit of “positive impact,” “physical health,” and “happiness” also tied to happiness more than other sources of purpose. While it may seem obvious that aligning your decisions with inner peace, happiness, and good health would make you personally happier, it’s less obvious that making a positive impact would lead to happiness. However, Heine points to research that suggests that those who benefit others are happier—for example, his colleague Elizabeth Dunn’s work finding that spending money on others makes you happier than spending it on yourself. “What you are doing is making the world a better place, and that should be especially rewarding,” he says. For the psychologically rich life, pursuing “service” was the top contender for people across cultures. This seems counterintuitive, because service isn’t necessarily associated with novelty, complexity, or challenge. But it’s possible, says Mask, that serving others opens us to new perspectives and a range of emotions—for example, happiness at connecting with people in less fortunate circumstances, but also sadness about their misfortune—that could be relevant to a psychologically rich life. “These aspects of service (emotional complexity, perspective-changing experiences) may be what link it to psychological richness,” says Mask. Interestingly, pursuing material wealth was the lowest predictor of every form of the good life in this study. Heine suggest that the reason may be that pursuing wealth takes you away from more reliable sources of purpose associated with the good life—like relationships, a sense of community, work, or connection to a cause or spiritual practice. “Chasing material wealth is not associated with the kinds of connections that underlie a good life,” he says. Variations in purpose and well-being While the overall results suggest an almost universal experience of purpose, there were some cultural variations in the findings, too. For example, for Japanese people, finding purpose through their occupation mattered a lot more to their quality of life (in every sense) than it did in the other cultures studied. Heine, who’s familiar with Japanese culture through his research, says that finding rings true, as he has witnessed how central work life is to people’s well-being and personal identity in Japan. On the other hand, he and Mask couldn’t explain why seeking purpose through family did not predict meaning in life much, except in Poland, where it ranked second. Given research on how close relationships bring us a sense of meaning, they’d expected it to pop up at the top of the list for all countries. According to Heine, it’s possible that in countries where people feel strong obligations and expectations around their family (like in Japan and India), other areas of fulfillment may have felt more novel and relevant to them. Mask wonders if it could be due to how different cultures think about family as a source of purpose, which their general survey couldn’t detect. “It could be the case that how people conceive of family in these different societies might look very different,” he says. But, he adds, they can’t say more without getting more granular detail in future studies. Aiming for the good life yourself Knowing that certain elements of a good life may be supported by sources of purpose like mattering, inner peace, or service could be useful to know, especially if we’re aiming for a happier, more meaningful, or psychologically rich life. But Heine is not sure that there can be a “purpose prescription” based on their findings alone. “Purpose and meaning in life have an important subjective element. It wouldn’t be good for an individual to share the same purpose just because others endorse it,” he says. On the other hand, he and Mask both hope their research will encourage more people to consider focusing on what brings purpose to their lives, to help achieve greater overall well-being. “Though the goal of our paper was to highlight many sources of purpose, our take-home message is that having any kind of purpose is key to having a good life,” says Heine. Source of the article

Jul 10, 2025 GOATReads: Science & Technology

Why it’s a (very) bad idea to filter microplastics from your blood

Sorry, Orlando The actor Orlando Bloom recently made headlines when he reportedly paid the exorbitant price of £10,000 ($13,600) to have his blood removed, separated and filtered for microplastics. His rather drastic treatment highlights growing worry over an unsettling truth: there’s simply no avoiding these minuscule particles. They’re everywhere, from the top of Mount Everest to the inside of our brains, according to some studies. They’re also all over the media, and understandably, the safety of having microscopic flakes of plastic floating around in our bodies has raised public and scientific concern. Once considered a benign material, microplastics are now being linked to disease. But with the testing at such an early stage and no scientific consensus reached, should we be worried about what it’s doing to our bodies? And should we be queuing up to get our blood ‘cleaned’? Plastic proof The term ‘microplastic’ describes any plastic particle or fibre measuring less than 5mm (0.19 inches) in size. Typically, these particles are so small that we need a microscope to see them. Scientists also use the term ‘nanoplastic’ to describe even smaller particles, which measure below 0.001mm (39.4 microinches). These are challenging to see even with advanced microscopes, but evidence suggests they could be released from plastic materials and into their surrounding environment. A part of my research group’s work has been to measure the levels of plastic and other particles in the air that we breathe, both outside and indoors. In London, we’ve seen microplastics in the air pollution small enough to travel deep into our lungs. To test whether microplastics are in the body, pieces of whole tissue or blood are processed and then filtered to concentrate any microplastic amounts. Then analysis can take place, either through a chemistry technique, which quantifies the amount of plastic in a sample, or a microscope-based physical chemistry technique – i.e. counting the number of plastic particles (and their size and shape) in a sample. Each method has its merits, but they all share the same drawbacks. The modern laboratory is a hotbed for microplastic contamination, full of plasticware, plastic consumables and, of course, people. Because of this, the actual process of extracting and testing samples for microplastics can be a source of pollution itself. Often in samples, we see microplastic particles that we’d previously thought were too big to be absorbed and distributed throughout the body. Generally speaking, particles smaller than 0.001mm (39.4 microinches) in size can cross through your lungs and enter into the bloodstream at the air-blood barrier – a thin layer of tissue in the lungs separating air in the air sacs (alveoli) from blood in the surrounding tiny blood vessels (capillaries). In the gut, particles smaller than 0.001mm (39.4 microinches) can cross into the lymphatic system – the body’s waste removal structure. From here, the smallest particles enter the bloodstream, and larger particles become trapped in the gut lining. Contamination from the lab could therefore explain the biggest pieces of plastic found in the body. Another issue is that some of the biological components in samples generate similar signals to plastics. Specifically, fats interfere with the signals of polyethene and polyvinylchloride, which can lead to an overestimation of how present these plastics are if a sample is not adequately processed.  With all this in mind, the high amounts of microplastics reported to be in our bodies are likely overestimated. Amounts vary significantly from nanograms to milligrams depending on the study, location, tissue type, and analytical method followed. In a recent rigorous study, a conservative estimate was made that there’s around 0.15ug – or 0.00000015g – of plastic per millilitre in our blood. To put that into perspective, that’s less than the weight of a single human hair. Still, it’s also worth noting that this study only looked at polystyrene, as it’s the only type of microplastic that’s easy to test for. Plastic people Based on these levels, it’s probably more important to focus on where the microplastics end up in our bodies, instead of how much is actually there. But again, it’s difficult to measure how much microplastics are gathering in different parts of our bodies. One recent study, for example, suggested the brain is a hotspot for plastic, claiming that it accumulates, on average, 4.5 bottle caps worth. Not only are these levels relatively high, but the detected plastic is mostly comprised of polyethene – one of the plastics which is difficult to measure around fat.   Polythene is the main plastic in production globally – around 120 million tonnes is made annually, accounting for 25 per cent of all plastic. It makes sense that we’d see more of this type in the body, generally speaking. The brain is a fatty tissue, however, and false positives can’t be ruled out here. What’s more, this study suggests there’s more plastic in the brain than in the liver, the organ responsible for cleaning the blood. If there’s a large amount of plastic anywhere in the body, we’d expect it to be there. Most published studies on microplastics in human tissue have also looked specifically at samples of whole tissue. This means we’re missing important context about whether the microplastics are embedded within cells, or are simply ‘passing through’. Plastic pure Whether we can measure them or not, there’s a high level of public anxiety around microplastics. Around two-thirds of 30,000 survey respondents across 31 countries were concerned about microplastics in their bodies. If you feel like you want to minimise your exposure to microplastic pollution, there are several lifestyle changes you can make. These include opting for natural fibre-based textiles in your home and clothing, avoiding plastic packaging wherever possible (especially where heating is involved) and travelling via quiet streets to avoid tyre wear particles from traffic. But with microplastic release predicted to increase 1.5 to 2.5 times by 2040, it’s inevitable that tech claiming to remove microplastic invaders from the body will start to appear. Therapeutic apheresis – a medical procedure which separates blood and selectively removes harmful substances before returning blood to the patient – has recently been commercialised to rid your blood of microplastics. While there’s no published work on this microplastic removal method, German researchers carrying out the procedure detected ‘microplastic-like’ particles in the plasma of patients. Without information on their lab controls and the sizes of the particles detected, it’s difficult to interpret how meaningful the data is, though. What’s more, we don’t know how microplastics act in blood specifically. We don’t know whether they’re freely moving around the body and circulating in our plasma, or sticking to our red blood cells, or being engulfed by our immune cells in the bloodstream. Without concrete evidence on the types of microplastics in our bodies, their journeys or their interactions within the body, it’s almost impossible to interpret the health benefits of these ‘blood cleaning’ ventures. Plus, you might end up adding more by accident during the procedure. In one piece of research, for example, 558 microplastics were recorded being released from a cannula over a 72-hour period. With all this in mind, until there’s been more research assessing the impact of microplastics on our bodies, until we can say where they are and what they are doing, I plan on leaving the sci-fi blood cleaning services to Hollywood. Source of the article

Jul 9, 2025 GOATReads: Psychology

How to Thrive in an AI World

The AI revolution has been swift and powerful. You’re using it whether you realize it or not, and those who embrace it often don’t look back. At the same time, there’s fear of job loss, the environmental toll, and the sense that many qualities that define humans will never be the same. Insights from psychology can help us adapt to this massive paradigm shift. 5 Ways to Optimize Your Brain in an AI-Dominated World By Cornelia C. Walther, Ph.D. In the age of AI, it’s natural to feel overwhelmed—especially if you’re unsure how to use emerging tools or worry you’re behind the curve. Take heart: While AI can process vast amounts of data and streamline tasks at mind-boggling speeds, it remains a fraction of our entire intelligence and being. AI can handle the tedious, brute-force parts of work—finding correlations, generating initial drafts, or calculating numbers—so that people can focus on what humans excel at: creative problem-solving, empathetic leadership, and meaningful social interactions. This is the essence of hybrid intelligence, where human curiosity, compassion, creativity, and emotional depth complement AI’s computational power. Get Acquainted With Your Cognitive Landscape The brain’s default-mode network plays a central role in self-reflection, daydreaming, and understanding the self in relation to others. When we spend time reflecting or being mindful, we activate this network, which enhances our ability to process information, make decisions, and understand emotions. Conversely, AI does not have self-awareness or a concept of “self”; it processes inputs based on programmed algorithms without internal reflection. Practical Tool: Keep a Daily “Mindfulness Journal” → Reflect on times when you were distracted or overwhelmed by digital inputs. → Note how the interaction with AI-powered tools (e.g., ChatGPT, social media) influenced your focus or decisions. → Synergy value: Use AI to become more aware of your own thought process. How This Helps You Stay Competitive Mindfulness practices enhance neuroplasticity, the brain’s ability to reorganize and form new neural connections, improving long-term mental flexibility. It anchors you in your own thoughts, so AI doesn’t dictate your workflow. By consistently pausing to reflect, you ensure that AI supports—not replaces—your cognitive processes. Reflect Regularly on Your Aspirations Human brains are wired for purpose and meaning, thanks to the prefrontal cortex, which governs complex cognitive functions like planning, decision-making, and setting long-term goals. Unlike AI, which optimizes decisions based on logic or data, the human brain is motivated by intrinsic factors, like purpose and fulfillment, which drive us to pursue meaningful goals. Practical Tool: Weekly “Goals Audit” → Use an AI planner or a to-do app to list your weekly goals. Tools like Notion or Trello can be augmented with AI plug-ins that suggest action steps. → Reflect offline: Are the tasks that take up your time aligned with what truly matters to you—your values and your long-term ambitions? → Synergy value: AI’s efficiency helps track tasks, but introspection determines whether they hold real meaning. How This Helps You Stay Competitive: Individuals who set clear, meaningful goals exhibit stronger activation in the dopaminergic reward system. This leads to greater motivation and productivity, particularly in times of ever-accelerating demands and the stress that results from them. Activate Emotional Intelligence The brain’s limbic system, which includes structures like the amygdala and hippocampus, is integral to emotional regulation and memory formation. Emotional intelligence—our ability to understand, manage, and react to emotions—revolves around this system. AI can mimic empathy through natural language processing but does not experience or understand emotions as we do. Practical Tool: Daily “Emotions Stretching” → Consider using AI chat tools (e.g., Claude or others) to role-play sensitive conversations or conflict scenarios. Ask the AI for multiple perspectives or possible responses. → Reflect on how you feel about the scenarios. Which responses feel authentic to you? → Synergy value: AI can help you adopt various perspectives, allowing you to expand the menu of emotional responses. How This Helps You Stay Competitive: Individuals who practice emotional regulation and mindfulness demonstrate greater amygdala resilience, which lowers stress and enhances social interactions. AI can simulate empathy, but only humans an experience the full spectrum of emotions and develop resilience. Putting situations and your role in them into perspective allows you to expand your emotional agility. Rather than reacting on auto-pilot, it enables you to choose your reaction. Invest in Intellectual Curiosity The brain’s hippocampus plays a vital role in learning and memory. Curiosity activates brain regions, such as the ventral tegmental area, and is associated with reward and enhancing learning. By learning something new, we curate our intellectual hardware while enjoying the journey of exploration. While AI can store and retrieve vast amounts of information, it lacks curiosity—the human drive to explore, learn, and innovate is the result of our biological evolution and the reason for our species’ survival. Practical Tool: Implement a “Curiosity Hour” → Use AI as a launchpad: Ask ChatGPT or another large language model to provide an overview of a new concept you’re curious about. → Next, pick one point from the AI-generated summary and explore it independently—read a research article, watch a documentary, or experiment with a hands-on project. → Synergy value: AI can help you to move beyond passive consumption to challenge your mind so you’re actively learning. How This Helps You Stay Competitive: Intellectual curiosity enhances memory retention and increases synaptic plasticity—the ability of synapses to strengthen over time with repeated learning. AI can offer information but doesn’t “learn” in the same exploratory, imaginative way we do. Constantly exploring novel ideas keeps your brain agile and inventive. Rather than letting AI do all the heavy lifting, challenge yourself to dive into uncharted topics—this fuels your unique perspective. Nurture Social Connections Human brains are hardwired for social interaction. The mirror neuron system, which was initially discovered by looking at monkeys, shows how our brains are designed to resonate with the emotional states of others. Social bonds are essential for mental well-being, cognitive development, and emotional resilience. While AI-driven apps can facilitate conversations, genuine connection—a handshake, a shared laugh—sparks oxytocin release, strengthening social ties in a way machines can’t replicate. Practical Tool: Establish a “Connection Ritual” → If you manage a team, use AI to schedule and structure meetings, but devote at least a few minutes daily to unstructured conversations—no agenda, just genuine interaction. → Coordinate gatherings or game nights using AI planning tools in your personal life, then disconnect from digital devices to focus on face-to-face interactions. → Synergy value: The deliberate use of AI tools can free up time and mental space to allocate quality time to curate meaningful relationships. As a bonus, these can buffer stress and spark collaboration. How This Helps You Stay Competitive Regular social interactions release oxytocin, a hormone that promotes bonding and reduces stress—among other functions. AI-driven social platforms may facilitate connection, but face-to-face or voice-to-voice interactions release brain chemicals that promote empathy, trust, and cooperation. AI can only mimic these elements; it simulates emotions. Your network is your net worth. As AI handles logistics, you will have more mental bandwidth to deepen your human connections—a resource no algorithm can fully replicate. Fears of being left behind by AI are valid. Yet, what sets you apart—and always will—is your quirky, kind, and purposeful human self. AI can automate repetitive tasks and generate data-driven insights. It cannot replace the essence that makes you a unique human being. By focusing on these five elements—building awareness, reflecting on aspirations, activating emotional intelligence, investing in curiosity, and nurturing social connections—you keep your mind curious and creative, and your heart compassionate and courageous to face the uncertainties that life in a hybrid world entails. Source of the article