Anusuyabai Pandekar and her daughter-in-law Mandabai sit facing each other beside a stone grindmill. The mill is still. No grain rests between its stones. No flour gathers at the edges. Instead it sits between them like an object from another time.

One of the women begins to sing. The other joins. The melody carries the rhythm of a labour no longer being done, cyclical and without clear beginning or end:

It is raining heavily, let the soil become wet.

Women go to the fields, carrying baskets of bhakri (bread).

The pre-monsoon rain is beating down on the fields.

Under the jasmine tree, the ploughman is working with the drill-plough.

Scenes like the one this song describes, once common across rural western India, now belong increasingly to the archive. Hand-grinding has given way to electric mills. The work that once informed these songs has thinned out, leaving behind recordings, fragments and memory.

Accounts of drought and environmental change rarely include such voices. In official records and news reports, what is measured often overshadows what is lived. Climate change is typically explained through numbers, including emissions targets, temperature thresholds and rainfall variability. This data is necessary. But it cannot capture how change is inhabited: how it settles into bodies, reshapes routines and presses into everyday life.

Long before climate science named the crisis, women were registering these shifts in another language – song.

Climate, labour and everyday life

Across the world, women’s work songs function as informal archives of environmental change. Emerging from repetitive labour – including grinding, pounding, planting and carrying – they register shifts in seasons, resources and survival long before these enter formal records.

I began to understand this during my doctoral work in 2020 and 2021. I was researching labour arrangements within the sugar industry in drought-affected regions of western India. Policy reports described rainfall deficits, groundwater depletion and crop loss. But women spoke instead of work – walking further for water, delaying planting and stretching food across uncertain seasons.

Their voices extended beyond conversation into an unexpected archive – The Grindmill Songs Project. First documented in the 1990s and now hosted by the People’s Archive of Rural India, the project brings together around 100,000 songs organised by people, places and themes. I used this archive alongside ethnographic interviews to trace labour, marriage and drought in the sugarcane industry, where women’s voices were largely absent from official records.

Here, labour and environmental strain were articulated with a precision often absent from formal accounts. Climate was not abstract; it was embedded in the rhythms of work.

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

The water-guzzling sugarcane crop, around which the region’s economy turns, surfaced repeatedly in both speech and song. It appeared as a metaphor for happiness, for domestic violence, even for dowry; a substance moving between fields and households, binding labour, desire and coercion. Environmental stress did not stand apart from these concerns, but moved through them. As one song goes:

A daughter’s existence is like a sack of sugar

Father got his daughter married, he became a merchant

Another describes married life through the language of extraction:

Father says, daughter, how are you treated by your in-laws

Like a 12-year-old sugarcane crushed in the sugar-mill

A broader pattern emerges from this context. Across regions, environmental change is first encountered through its effects on labour, and only later abstracted into data. Comparable dynamics appear elsewhere. In west African farming communities, songs synchronise collective labour while expressing shared experience of seasonal uncertainty. In Malawi, during famine, women sang:

Koke kolole … pull, pull hard, pull the clouds –

why does the rain not come?

Our dead fathers, what have we done?

Forgive us … do you want us to die?

Send us rain.

Here, ecological crisis is framed as a breakdown within a moral and social order. Such songs interpret environmental failure through relationships between the living and the dead and between obligation and neglect.

On the Swahili coast, fishing songs similarly accompany sailing and net-making, embedding weather knowledge, labour discipline and social commentary within everyday maritime life. These songs accompany work, but they also organise it, giving rhythm to collective effort while encoding knowledge about seasons, risk and survival.

This relationship between labour and environment extends across very different histories. In the Caribbean, work songs bear the imprint of plantation economies shaped by extraction and environmental vulnerability. In Latin America, women’s traditions carry histories of colonial labour within their rhythms.

In Colombia’s San Basilio de Palenque, women still sing as they coax peanuts from rain-softened soil, gathering food, language and memory in the same gesture. Elsewhere, songs track movement itself: young men leaving with the dry-season wind, rivers in flood separating families.

Along cold North Sea coasts, herring workers, known as the “gutters”, sang Gaelic work songs in the 19th century while gutting fish at speed, their rhythms coordinating labour under harsh conditions. Beyond work, women also composed laments that dwelt on separation from men at sea.

Listening to climate differently

These songs describe hardship. But they also make it perceptible, situating environmental stress within labour, social relations and obligation. Climate change follows existing inequalities. In many contexts, its earliest effects are absorbed through women’s work, through longer hours, shifting responsibilities and increased strain.

Importantly, these songs were not intentionally composed as records of environmental change. They emerge from labour, relationships and survival. Yet because women’s work is so closely tied to land, water and season, environmental shifts are registered within them, often indirectly, as part of their lived experience.

Work songs therefore offer a distinct kind of record. Against archives that have historically privileged elite and male voices, they preserve forms of knowledge grounded in everyday labour.

But the conditions that sustained such singing are fading. Mechanisation and the decline of collective work have reduced the spaces in which these songs were produced and shared, with many now confined to ritual settings such as weddings and childbirth gatherings. As these practices decline, so too do the forms of knowledge embedded within them.

Listening to these songs does not replace data-driven, scientific knowledge about climate change. It complements it by making visible dimensions of change that are otherwise difficult to capture, including the reorganisation of labour, the strain on relationships and the uncertainty of survival.

Reetika Revathy Subramanian received funding from the Gates Cambridge Trust for her doctoral research at the University of Cambridge Centre for Gender Studies (2019–2024), on which this article primarily draws.

There was a time when Elon Musk and Sam Altman were friends. But the two tech billionaires are now embroiled in a bitter legal battle in the United States that could reshape not just OpenAI, the artificial intelligence (AI) firm behind ChatGPT they cofounded in 2015, but also the future of the technology more broadly.

Launched by Musk in 2024, the lawsuit is the culmination of a years-long feud that centres on the evolution of OpenAI from a non-profit to a for-profit enterprise.

The trial, which kicked off this week in California, is expected to last roughly three weeks. But its ripple effects could be felt for many years to come.

The case and the cast

The lawsuit pits Musk against Altman, OpenAI president Greg Brockman, OpenAI itself, and Microsoft, the AI firm’s largest backer.

Musk cofounded and helped fund OpenAI to the tune of about US$44 million. By his own account from the witness stand this week, he “came up with the idea, the name, recruited the key people, taught them everything I know, provided all of the initial funding”.

Brockman served as technical cofounder; Altman became chief executive in 2019. Their alliance with Musk fractured as the organisation grew. Musk departed the board in 2018. He says he was pushed out.

However, OpenAI says he walked when denied majority control. Musk subsequently launched his own rival AI venture, xAI, which is now part of SpaceX.

What Musk is alleging

As part of the lawsuit, Musk is alleging breach of contract, breach of fiduciary duty, false advertising and unfair business practices.

His core claim is that Altman and Brockman induced him to donate on the understanding that any artificial general intelligence – or AGI – built at OpenAI would stay “open” and shared with humanity.

Instead, Musk argues, the founders turned the charity into a “wealth machine”. They did this in two stages. First, via a 2019 capped-profit subsidiary. Here, OpenAI’s for-profit unit limited the returns, with the excess handed back to the nonprofit. Second, through a full restructure into a public benefit corporation, which is now valued at roughly US$852 billion.

Musk’s lawyers told jurors Altman and Brockman “stole a charity, full stop”. Outside court, Musk has been throwing insults at his opponents, prompting the judge to threaten a gag order.

OpenAI flatly rejects Musk’s narrative. As its lead counsel, William Savitt, told jurors:

We are here because Mr Musk didn’t get his way with OpenAI.

The company alleges, as described in two pre-trial blog posts, that Musk himself proposed merging OpenAI with Tesla in 2017 and walked away when denied majority control.

The lawsuit, OpenAI says, is “motivated by jealousy” and designed to damage a competitor.

A company under pressure

The trial arrives at a precarious moment for OpenAI.

The New Yorker magazine recently published an investigation describing Altman as a “pathological liar”. The investigation drew on an internal dossier compiled by OpenAI’s former chief scientist Ilya Sutskever which alleged a “consistent pattern of lying” to the company’s board.

Altman called the piece “incendiary” but acknowledged “a bunch of mistakes”. Musk has been amplifying the article to his X followers throughout the trial.

Financially, OpenAI is bleeding.

Internal projections point to roughly US$14 billion in losses for 2026 alone, with cumulative losses expected to top US$44 billion before any profit materialises.

Shortly before the trial began, OpenAI quietly shut down Sora, its flagship video-generation model.

Before closing, it burned around US$1 million a day in computing costs. The closure took down a US$1 billion Disney partnership with it.

Even a fresh US$122 billion fundraise from Amazon, Nvidia and SoftBank has not eased the pressure.

What Musk wants

Musk wants the jury to unwind OpenAI’s for-profit conversion, remove Altman from the nonprofit board, and strip both Altman and Brockman of their roles in the for-profit entity.

He is also demanding US$130 billion in damages from OpenAI – for what his team calls “ill-gotten gains”.

He has accused Microsoft of “aiding and abetting” and argues it is liable for a share.

His legal team argues OpenAI’s existing models already constitute AGI, because they have surpassed human intelligence in many tasks. Under the founding agreement, AGI could not be commercially licensed. This would include the licence currently used by Microsoft for CoPilot.

What’s at stake

If Musk wins, the consequences would be significant.

OpenAI’s planned initial public offering would almost certainly be derailed. This is expected in late 2026 at a US$1 trillion valuation. Investors in the recent funding round could face clawbacks.

Altman, the public face of the AI boom, could be removed from the company he has led since 2019. The broader question of whether AI labs founded as charities can lawfully pivot into commercial enterprises would be settled, at least in California. This has potential implications for Anthropic and other mission-driven peers.

Even a defeat for Musk would not end the controversy.

The trial has already pried open Silicon Valley’s normally sealed boardrooms, surfacing diaries, Slack threads and HR memos that paint an unflattering portrait of OpenAI’s governance.

The case crystallises a wider public anxiety: an incredibly powerful technology is being built and controlled by a tiny number of feuding tech bros. And it’s the rest of us who have to live with the consequences.

Rob Nicholls is a part of the University of Sydney Centre for AI, Trust, and Governance and receives funding from the Australian Research Council.

As heat, floods and drought intensify, governments, donors and cities rely on climate risk assessments to decide who gets support and where money goes. A climate risk assessment uses information on climate hazards, exposure, vulnerability and responses to identify where, who or what is most at risk to climate impacts.

When climate shocks such as heat waves, droughts or floods strike, women are often described as vulnerable. But women are not a uniform group and they don’t all experience climate impacts in the same way.

Read more: Extreme weather affects mental health: what vulnerable women in Kenya told us

Their vulnerability to climate shocks is shaped by far more than gender alone. Factors like race, ethnicity, age, disability and class play a role in making some women more vulnerable than others. Power relations, such as ableism, racism, sexism and ageism, can also privilege some women while marginalising others.

This is known as intersectionality. Critical race theory scholar, professor of law and activist Kimberlé Crenshaw came up with the term “intersectionality” in 1989. It describes how overlapping identities can create forms of harm that remain invisible when problems are framed through only one lens. For example, separate frames for “Black people” and “women” can miss the distinct experiences of “Black women”.

If climate risk assessments don’t look at how identities and power overlap, they can miss why some women are far more at risk than others. For example, women who are impoverished and live in flood prone areas are more at risk and will find it more difficult to recover from climate disasters.

Read more: Women are seen as ‘saviours’ or ‘victims’ in climate change debates: why this is a problem

Women are more vulnerable to climate change if their opportunities are limited and if they’ve suffered as a result of economic structures that concentrate wealth and resources in the hands of a few.

Together with our co-author Songo Benya, we wanted to better understand women’s climate vulnerability in South Africa. Rather than treating women as a group of people who are all the same, we wanted to find out which women are most vulnerable to the impact of climate change and why.

Read more: Forest loss in Malawi: how having women at the table affected debates and decisions about solutions – research

We reviewed all the South African scientific literature published between 2004 and 2024 on how income, education, household roles and resources combine to shape women’s ability to respond to climate change.

Our research found that treating women as a single group can hide differences in vulnerability, exposure and responses to climate impacts. Women who lacked secure land tenure, access to credit, decision-making power or climate information often faced greater barriers to adopting adaptation strategies.

Understanding which women are worst affected by climate hazards

The country’s inequality is still rooted in apartheid, for example by shaping who gets good quality health services and who doesn’t. When climate shocks hit, these gaps decide who is most exposed and who has the means to cope or recover.

1. Economic factors

These are the biggest drivers that intersect with gender to shape climate vulnerability. We found that Black women were more often engaged in lower-income or climate-sensitive livelihoods, such as smallholder farming or informal trade. They faced barriers to accessing finance, credit and productive assets. These constraints limited women’s ability to invest in adaptation strategies or recover from climate shocks.

2. Limited land ownership

In many rural areas, customary land tenure systems favour male inheritance. They hamper women’s ability to make decisions about land use, adopt climate-resilient farming practices or access agricultural support. Access to knowledge, education and climate information also affected vulnerability.

3. The burden of housework

Household responsibilities were a major factor, intersecting with economic status and gender. Women are often primarily responsible for childcare, water collection, food provision, and caring for elderly relatives. Household labour limited the time and resources available to adopt new livelihoods or adaptation strategies. Caring for children increased risks, but also motivated women to persist and find ways through hardship.

4. Power dynamics and wider social exclusion

Women had less say in decision-making in homes led by men compared to those led by women. However, homes led by women often had lower levels of education, which limited their influence beyond the home. In some cases, women were more climate vulnerable if they lacked social ties to community leaders. This made it harder to access resources.

Read more: What does a house mean to you? We asked some women who head households in South Africa

Where women lived, and the condition of their homes and services, influenced by race and income inequalities, made some women more vulnerable. Many women, particularly Black women in peri-urban and informal settlements, faced greater exposure to climate risks like flooding due to poor housing quality, limited infrastructure and inadequate services.

What needs to happen next

All the literature we reviewed showed that women were barely coping with the impact of climate change. This included loss of life; decreased health, income, learning, wellbeing and livelihoods; and damage to resources and infrastructure.

Reported responses for the women described in the literature were often short-term measures. Sometimes these were maladaptive, such as depleting savings, taking on risky debt, or engaging in transactional sex.

Read more: Climate change is hurting Kenyan women working in coastal tourism – they explain how

Collective strategies, such as community solidarity and social learning networks, appeared less often. (These are spaces where different people involved in the issue, such as local women farmers, extension officers, non-governmental organisation representatives and others, come together to learn from each other.) Where they did appear, they tended to reduce vulnerability more effectively.

More gender-sensitive climate action is needed. In South Africa, this means prioritising women’s real, day-to-day needs, especially by strengthening women’s access to income, and in the informal trade and smallholder farming sectors. Women informal traders can be supported by governments through better planning, and infrastructure like sheltered trading areas that are protected from extreme weather.

Read more: African women entrepreneurs are a smart bet for climate change investment: research shows why

Adapting to a warming climate also requires confronting the deeper social issues that increase risk. These include patriarchal norms and unfair division of household labour. This will free up their time, security and resources to respond to climate challenges.

More broadly, climate risk assessments need to consider how different identities, contexts and power relations influence women’s lives. This is especially important considering that these assessments can influence who gets climate funding and support. Climate policies may respond to climate risks. But without an intersectional approach, they’ll fail to reach the women who need the support the most.

Petra Brigitte Holden receives funding currently from the European Union, FCDO, IDRC, and Frontiers Planet Prize.

Gina Ziervogel receives funding currently from IDRC, FCDO and AFD.

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

With the NFL draft taking place in Pittsburgh and an estimated 500,000 to 700,000 people expected to attend the events downtown and on the North Shore, conversations about sex trafficking have resurfaced – as they often do when major events draw large crowds to a city.

But how much of what people believe about trafficking and big events is actually supported by evidence? Mary Burke, a psychology professor at Carlow University who studies this intersection, breaks down what the data shows.

Burke partners with local nonprofit groups that fight human trafficking, such as Eden’s Farm. The organization offered three community training sessions ahead of the NFL draft that focused on recognizing the signs of exploitation, understanding grooming tactics and strengthening prevention strategies.

With Pittsburgh hosting the NFL draft, what does research show about how large events can influence sex trafficking activity?

Researchers have not found conclusive evidence that large events such as the NFL draft, the World Cup or other similarly sized, temporary events cause an increase in sex trafficking. However, experts do believe the crime of sex trafficking is underestimated in general due to a number of factors. Because so much effort goes into concealing trafficking, the crime goes unreported and undetected more often than it’s discovered. The true scale of the problem is likely much larger than the data reflects.

Large events that draw crowds even on a smaller scale than the draft, such as motorcycle rallies and large business conferences, often create opportunities traffickers may try to exploit, according to a 2016 study by researchers at Carnegie Mellon University.

Also, we do see an increased demand for commercial sex with events that draw a large male audience. Some of this demand is met through consensual means and some through force, fraud and coercion, which is the definition of sex trafficking.

How are organizations like Eden’s Farm working on the ground to prevent trafficking during the draft?

Eden’s Farm as well as the Social Impact Institute and Carlow University have led training. The hope is that this will equip citizens and those on the ground – law enforcement, ride share drivers and hotel and restaurant employees, for example – to know how to identify and respond to potential trafficking situations.

Additionally, these groups teach the public how to recognize signs of exploitation, how grooming works and how to strengthen online safety. The training also help families, educators, service providers and community members prevent people they know from being trafficked.

What are common misconceptions people have about sex trafficking during events like this?

One of the most common misconceptions about sex trafficking is the idea that trafficking includes abduction or physical captivity. While kidnapping can occur, many trafficking situations are carried out through psychological coercion rather than physical force. Victims may be controlled through grooming, fraud, intimidation, fear of retaliation against loved ones, or deep emotional dependency on the trafficker.

This translates into a victim not appearing to be restrained physically, which can make identification of a person in distress more difficult.

What signs should the general public look for that might indicate trafficking is happening?

This is tricky, as some of the indicators would be revealed through conversation, rather than observation at a distance. With that said, people should be on the lookout for patterns of control – for example, someone who does not seem to be able to speak freely or move about freely, has money or identification that is controlled by another person, or appears fearful.

In our training, we explain how to become aware of signs that someone is being pressured into commercial sex through manipulation rather than overt violence or consent. No single sign is definitive on its own, but there are some common situational red flags the public can take notice of regarding potential victims: They are coming and going from a hotel room at unusual hours with multiple different people, they are dressed in a way that seems inconsistent with the weather or setting, or they don’t seem to know basic details about where they are or where they’re going.

What are some prevention strategies Pittsburgh could adopt?

For this event and going forward, trafficking prevention should include a city- and county-level plan that can be implemented in relevant agencies. Pennsylvania’s plan focuses on prevention through public awareness and training, especially by equipping transportation workers and the public to recognize and report trafficking.

Prevention plans could include recommendations for the service and hospitality industries that require staff training on recognizing trafficking indicators, such as signs of coercion or restricted movement, and how to report to law enforcement or 911 for a rapid response. There are also a variety of ways to report suspected sex trafficking activity through the National Human Trafficking Hotline. When businesses and service workers interact with people who may be trafficking victims, they should do so in a way that is sensitive, nonjudgmental and doesn’t put the person in danger.

For example, a hotel employee who suspects a guest may be a trafficking victim shouldn’t confront the trafficker directly or make a scene – instead, they should know how to quietly offer help or alert the right people without escalating the situation or making the victim feel ashamed or accused.

Mary Burke is also the Director of the Social Impact Institute.

Rachel Seamans volunteers with the Social Impact Institute and Eden’s Farm.

You may have seen black garlic appear more frequently in grocery stores, restaurants and online recipes over the past few years. Many chefs and food writers describe it as a unique and deeply flavored ingredient. So what is black garlic, and how is it made?

I noticed a growing curiosity about black garlic firsthand while presenting my food science research at a showcase at Michigan State University. Several people asked me basic questions about black garlic, like how it is made and what sets it apart from regular garlic. The ingredient’s growing popularity reflects a broader interest in foods that offer both distinctive flavor and potential health benefits.

Black garlic is not an ancient traditional food, but a recent innovation developed in Japan in the late 20th century. The process of making black garlic is often attributed to Japanese scientist Hamasuke Hamano, who spent a decade refining a method to make garlic more palatable before securing a patent in 2004.

How is black garlic made?

Black garlic is not a different type of garlic. It is made from regular garlic bulbs that have been kept under warm, humid conditions typically in specialized chambers that maintain exact heat and humidity levels for several weeks to months.

Unlike traditional fermentation, this process does not use added microorganisms. Instead, the transformation happens through a combination of heat and moisture. As the garlic is slowly heated under controlled conditions, natural chemical reactions known as Maillard reactions take place within the cloves. These reactions give black garlic its dark color and its slightly sweet, rich flavor.

Producers may use different processing times, storage temperatures and packaging materials, all of which can make the final product vary in taste and quality. Because of this variation, black garlic often doesn’t taste the same across products.

Texture and taste of black garlic

While raw garlic has a sharp, pungent taste, black garlic typically has a milder, slightly sweet taste. The underlying chemistry is complex, but the basic idea is straightforward: Heat and humidity transform both the taste and structure of garlic. These shifts in flavor happen because the compound responsible for garlic’s strong taste breaks down during the heating process. At the same time, heat-driven reactions form new compounds that contribute to a smoother and more complex flavor.

The texture also changes significantly. Instead of being firm and crisp, black garlic becomes soft and almost spreadable.

The heat and humidity break down the structure of garlic by softening its cell walls and altering its sugars and proteins. The reactions also reduce allicin: the compound responsible for garlic’s sharp and pungent flavor. At the same time, Maillard reactions between sugars and amino acids – which make up proteins – create new compounds, including brown pigments called melanoidins and a range of flavor compounds.

What is known about black garlic’s health effects?

Some studies suggest that black garlic may have higher antioxidant activity than raw garlic. Antioxidants are compounds that help neutralize unstable molecules in the body, which can damage cells over time.

Researchers have explored the effects of black garlic on metabolic and cardiovascular health, including blood sugar and cholesterol levels. Some studies report modest improvements in these markers, although the results are not always consistent.

Previous studies have suggested that compounds in black garlic may help reduce inflammation, fight harmful bacteria and even show some potential in slowing the growth of cancer cells.

These findings are promising, but they should be interpreted carefully, especially because most studies have been conducted in laboratory settings or animal models, rather than on people.

What are scientists still figuring out?

Despite growing interest, researchers still have important gaps in their understanding of black garlic. Without well-designed human trials, it is difficult to draw firm conclusions about its health effects.

Another challenge lies in the lack of standardized production methods. Because black garlic production methods vary, its composition can vary. It’s much harder for researchers to compare results across studies and identify consistent benefits. Scientists will need to conduct more research before they can make any promises about black garlic’s benefits – or lack thereof.

Black garlic is proof that a few simple tweaks in how you prepare a food can rewrite its story entirely. For now, you can appreciate black garlic as an interesting addition to your kitchen, while researchers continue to explore what it can and cannot do for your health.

Mavra Javed 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.

Using an in-home HEPA purifier for one month spurs a small but significant improvement in brain function in adults age 40 and older. That’s the result of a new study we co-authored in the journal Scientific Reports.

HEPA purifiers – HEPA stands for high efficiency particulate air – remove particulate matter from the air. Exposure to particulate matter has been connected to respiratory and cardiovascular illnesses as well as neurological diseases such as Alzheimer’s and Parkinson’s. Environmental health researchers increasingly recommend that people use HEPA air purifiers in their homes to lower their exposure to particulate matter, but few studies have examined whether using them boosts mental function.

We analyzed data from a study of 119 people ages 30 to 74 living in Somerville, Massachusetts. Somerville sits along Interstate 93 and Route 28, two major highways, resulting in relatively high levels of traffic-related air pollution. This makes it an especially good location for testing the health effects of air purifiers.

We randomly assigned participants to one of two groups. One used a HEPA air purifier for one month and then a sham air purifier – which looked and acted like the real thing but did not contain the air-cleaning filter – for one month, with a monthlong break in between. The second group used the real and sham purifiers in reverse order.

After each month, participants took a test that measured different aspects of their mental capacity. The test probed people’s visual memory and motor speed skills by measuring how quickly they could draw lines between sequential numbers, and it tested executive function and mental flexibility by asking them to draw lines between alternating sequential numbers and letters.

We found that participants 40 years and older – about 42% of our sample – on average completed the section testing for mental flexibility and executive function 12% faster after using the HEPA purifier than after using the sham purifier. That was true even when we accounted for factors like differences in the amount of time participants spent indoors, with either filter, as well as how stressful they found the test.

This improvement may seem small, but it is similar to the cognitive benefits that people experience from increasing their daily exercise. While you may not experience a sudden increase in clarity from a 12% boost, preventing cognitive decline is vital for long-term well-being. Even small decreases in cognitive functioning may be associated with a higher risk of death.

Why it matters

Air pollution can negatively affect mental function after just a few hours of exposure. Studies show that air purifiers are effective at reducing particulates, but it’s unclear whether these reductions can prevent cognitive harm from ongoing pollution sources like traffic. Research has been especially lacking in people living near major sources of air pollution, such as highways.

People living near highways or major roadways are exposed to more air pollution and also experience higher rates of air pollution-related diseases. These risks aren’t encountered by all Americans equally: People of color and low-income people are more likely to live near highways or areas with heavy traffic.

Our study shows that HEPA air purifiers may offer meaningful health benefits under these circumstances.

What still isn’t known

Research shows that air pollution begins to affect cognitive function especially strongly around age 40. These effects may become increasingly prominent as people age.

HEPA air purifiers may therefore be especially beneficial for older adults. Our study did not explore this possibility, as fewer than 10 of our 119 participants were over the age of 60.

Also, our participants only used a HEPA air purifier for one month. It’s possible that longer durations of air purification may sustain or even increase the improvement in cognitive function we observed in our study.

Finally, it is unclear exactly how air purifiers improve cognition. Some studies suggest that exposure to particulate matter reduces the amount of the brain’s white matter, which helps brain cells conduct electrical signals and maintains connections between brain regions. The brain regions most harmed by air pollution are the ones that control mental flexibility and executive function, the same domains in which we saw improvements in our study.

We plan to study whether reducing particulate matter by using air purifiers is indeed protecting the brain’s white matter, and whether it could reverse some cognitive decline. We will explore that possibility by studying how levels of molecules called metabolites, which cells produce as they do their jobs, change in response to breathing polluted air and air cleaned by a HEPA filter.

The Research Brief is a short take on interesting academic work.

Nicholas Pellegrino and Doug Brugge received funding from the National Institute of Environmental Health Sciences under Grant ID: R01 ES030289

Doug Brugge receives funding from NIH.

Misha Eliasziw receives funding from NIH.

Once seen as often dry and sometimes intimidating, personal finance advice is a far cry from what it was in your grandparents’ day.

It’s not just the array of new online tools, from banking apps to exotic new investing options, such as cryptocurrency. Social media has created a platform for “finfluencers” – nonprofessional personal finance influencers who have become an increasingly common source of advice for young people, whether it’s accurate or not.

While most Americans over 64 say they turn to professional financial planners for guidance, a 2025 Gallup poll found that 42% of 18- to 29-year-olds seek financial advice on social media. That’s almost double the share among those ages 30 to 49. Many finfluencers have no formal financial credentials. Instead, their credibility is largely built on their social media followings, engagement metrics and relatability.

There’s also another generational shift afoot: Personal finance is increasingly bound up with political and social issues. Young adults are attempting to navigate a precarious economy – and the finfluencers who try to court them often launch critiques at the institutions and policies that they say created these conditions.

This advice ranges from risky trading-centric approaches to holistic financial practices. But a common thread is their positioning against traditional financial advice.

As a scholar who studies how the digital economy is affecting young adults’ well-being, I argue that Americans who still get their financial advice from more conventional sources – as well as the professional adviser class – need to understand there’s been a sea change in how young people understand money. And the legions of online followers need a better grasp of the risks involved.

Personal finance goes political

“Hey, I’m Rachel and I’m not paying my federal income taxes this year,” begins a TikTok video of an attorney who claims she’s skipping out on her US$8,800 tax bill for political reasons.

Rachel Cohen’s videos have racked up millions of views so far this year. Her video series details her reasons for refusal, specifically citing her disagreement with federal immigration policy and the “military-industrial complex.” On April 15, 2026, Cohen updated her viewers – some of whom had threatened to report her to the IRS – that she filed her return. But instead of paying the amount due, she’s parking the money in a high-yield savings account. Her sign-off: “Stay tuned and find out if I get arrested!”

Cohen’s not alone in her public protest. Millions of viewers have watched “tax resistance” or “tax strike” videos on TikTok that offer advice on how to not pay taxes and walk viewers through the potential consequences they might face.

Although my research suggests most of the tax-protest content on TikTok comes from left-leaning users, it draws influencers across the political spectrum. Examples include dissenters citing anti-war sentiments or disapproval of the government’s handling of the Epstein files.

Other personalities are encouraging their followers to treat their finances as a broader political statement. In some cases, these videos issue a call to action.

Vivian Tu, better known by her followers as “Your Rich BFF,” explains why the price of raspberries has gone up, citing a variety of foreign and domestic policy decisions: the war in Iran, tariffs and a shortage of migrant farmworkers. “If this video made you mad,” she says, “share it with a friend and contact a legislator.”

Tori Dunlap, author of “Financial Feminist,” tells her 2.2 million followers on Instagram: “If you’re freaking out about the world right now, GET RICH. That is your best form of protest is to get financially stable.”

However, Dunlap isn’t peddling get-rich-quick schemes. Much of her advice is run-of-the-mill personal finance tips – such as improving your credit score, paying down debt or automating savings contributions.

Political personal finance content has also extended beyond protests into things such as tracking the financial integrity of members of Congress or avoiding investments that could fund things such as private prisons.

Follow the money

These examples underscore how people’s financial lives are bound up with their values. And finfluencers appeal to their most politically charged beliefs to shape their financial decisions – even if they aren’t the best choices for their bank accounts.

One example is conflicts of interest. What many followers may not be fully aware of is that most finfluencers are incentivized to make highly performative content to monetize their accounts. This funding can come through either sponsored content – often from credit card and fintech companies – or through their own materials and “masterclasses.”

Moreover, full transparency is not a given. Although TikTok and Instagram have “paid promotion” designations for sponsored content, it’s not always so easy to identify potential conflicts of interest.

Crypto promoters, for example, routinely fail to disclose their sponsorships – and it’s common for them to boost coins they have a vested interest in.

As Americans’ distrust in financial institutions and regulators grows, many are willing to follow advice that falls into gray areas of oversight. When personal finance tips resonate with a viewers’ values, everyday financial decision-making can become colored with politics and nonconformist sentiments.

Advice, please!

Not everyone turns to finfluencers. Many take advice from anonymous strangers on forums such as Reddit.

The r/personalfinance subreddit alone has 2.8 million weekly visitors who post, respond and read questions posed and answered by everyday people. This is only one of 189 finance-related subreddits my colleagues and I compiled in our recent report.

Unlike finfluencers, Reddit users typically trade tips and opinion in plain text and occasional memes. Users of these forums are rarely monetized. It’s also demand-driven advice – people who post on these forums get to ask questions that directly address their personal financial issues. Credibility is earned though community “upvotes” and endorsements. Rather than one opinion, they can get a variety.

But similar to finfluencers, there’s an anti-institutional sentiment that privileges peer-to-peer learning over credentialed expertise. For example, users on the Bitcoin subreddit harshly criticize the contemporary financial system and advocate for digital currency over conventional forms of money.

Others take aim at the excesses of consumer culture, as seen on the forums for anti-consumption and frugal and simple living.

In this environment, financial education is rarely neutral – it’s deeply intertwined with people’s personal and political lives. As finfluencer Ellyce Fulmore puts it: “The barriers you face, your personal experience, the systems that do or don’t work for you … personal, personal, personal, personal!”

Maximilian Brichta 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.