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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do other animals have mental number lines?

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

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

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

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

Number-line direction may not be so clear-cut

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what I say, or you’re not invited to my birthday party!”

“I’m not going to be your partner on the project unless you give me the treat from your lunch!”

These kinds of threats are tactics many school-age kids use to solve conflicts. Parents and teachers sometimes assume these common threats are basically harmless.

After all, are they so different from comments kids might hear from grown-ups in their lives? It’s a small step from “Daddy better get you to school on time or Mommy is going to be angry with him!” to “If you don’t give me that toy you won’t be my best friend anymore!”

The adult and the kid versions are both signs of bullying behavior. I’m a child psychologist, and I know that kids imitate the behaviors they observe at home. Bullying is tied to poor outcomes not only for the child who is bullied but for the bullies themselves, who run a higher risk than their peers of experiencing depression when they become teens. Youth who are bullies also are more likely to engage in aggressive and rule-breaking behavior, have substance use problems and hang out with other adolescents who share these tendencies.

The good news is that parents can change the ways they handle their own conflicts to demonstrate for children how to use healthier and more positive ways to interact with others.

Getting people to do what you want

Across cultures, regardless of temperament, most children act with two goals in mind: to get or do things they want and to avoid things that they don’t want.

Kids want things like hugs and affection, praise, cool toys, yummy food and treats. They want to play, have fun and spend time with family and friends. Alternatively, they don’t want to do things that seem tiring, stressful, scary or boring, like cleaning up, doing chores, getting ready for bed or completing difficult or tedious schoolwork.

Think about all the ways you can get someone to do something that’s undesirable to them, especially if you have power over them. You can use positive tactics, such as direct encouragement, incentives and praise. You can try negative tactics, such as threats, manipulation and force. Some – asking politely, saying please and thank you each time – work better than others, such as nagging or pleading.

Children learn which tactics work and are acceptable by seeing how adults, who hold power over them, employ them.

On one extreme, observing aggression between parents increases risk for children’s heightened aggression and violence in their own social relationships. Stanford psychologist Albert Bandura’s seminal 1961 “Bobo Doll Study” found that preschool children who saw an adult hit and kick a life-size inflatable figure were more likely to be aggressive toward that figure when frustrated.

In my own research, I focused on children who were exposed to domestic violence between parents as early as in infancy. As adults, these now-grown children were more likely to be both victims and perpetrators of violence with their romantic partners. People were particularly likely to be violent as adults if they were exposed to domestic violence when they were in preschool, as opposed to later in childhood, suggesting early childhood is a particularly important time for parents to model healthy conflict resolution.

Many people don’t regularly use physical force on each other or on their kids to get what they want, so children also pay attention to how subtle tactics such as manipulation, threats and exclusion work. If children constantly hear, “If you don’t do this, you’ll lose that, or I’ll do this to you,” they learn that threats are acceptable and effective at getting others to comply.

What about even more subtle behavior, such as parents criticizing each other or giving one another the silent treatment?

If children regularly hear adults pointing blame or diminishing others’ self-worth – for example, “Mommy is so disorganized, she can’t keep herself together!” or “Daddy is so lazy, Mommy always has to do all the cooking AND the cleaning” – they are more likely to use these strategies to gain social dominance.

For children, this becomes, “You can’t play with us because your dress is ugly” or “You aren’t smart enough to be my partner.” Kids can pick up on each other’s weaknesses and learn to exploit them to get what they want.

For older children who observe one parent giving the other parent the silent treatment, “freezing out,” “canceling” or “ghosting” others now become potentially useful strategies.

Modeling kindness

But what about the flip side: If parents modeling aggression or disrespect is harmful for children, is modeling respect, kindness and compassion helpful? The answer is yes.

Parents who make respectful requests of one another, thank and praise each other, and work as a team model healthy social strategies for their kids, and these patterns have long-term benefits. Armed with these positive skills, children are not only less likely to bully others to get what they want, but they are more likely to recognize – and resist – being bullied themselves.

For example, if Mom is more patient and empathetic, whereas Dad is able to be more stern and “hold the line,” parents can work as a team and play to each other’s strengths. This might look like Mom making the morning routine happen with warm and directive encouragement, while Dad takes charge of enforcing bedtime routines.

Then, a key ingredient to make this noticeable to kids is that both parents praise each other’s strengths in front of the kids: One parent says, “Thanks to Mom for getting us out of the house on time!” The other says, “Thank goodness that Dad keeps us organized!” This subtle yet detectable respect goes a long way. It also demonstrates how to leverage relationships to further your own interests, but in a positive and healthy way.

Kids who are accustomed to using kindness and respect to get what they want are less likely to tolerate unkind, mean or manipulative behavior from bullies. Kindness becomes internalized, and it empowers kids to walk away from a bully.

Kids watch grown-ups for signs of how to act. Parents hold power over what kids get done and how, but they also have the power to show kids how to treat one another and how to do difficult things while also feeling good about them. The key is modeling kindness, teamwork and gratitude to get things done well – and to do this across your child’s life, ideally as early in their development as possible.

Angela J. Narayan receives funding from the National Academy of Medicine and the American Psychological Association.

You’re trying to be a supportive, empathetic friend. You listen as they outline significant challenges in their life. Maybe they’re feeling low or stressed, or there’s tension at home or in relationships.

You’ve heard it’s best not to jump in with solutions, or try to “fix” anything, and instead just listen without judging them.

But sometimes, the same conversation repeats, the weight doesn’t lift, and the lines between support and responsibility begin to blur.

So when does being a good friend mean gently suggesting more structured help – such as therapy with a psychologist or a mental health professional?

How do you know it’s time?

Listening to your friend talking about their problems, without judging them, creates a sense of psychological safety. It helps them feel they can speak honestly without being evaluated, corrected or dismissed.

Being heard in this way by a friend can itself be deeply validating. This can help someone feel more comfortable to seek professional help.

However, there may be a time where listening is not enough, and over time, your concern begins to grow.

You might notice your friend’s situation is worsening, or their wellbeing – or that of those around them – is being affected. They may be relying on unhealthy coping strategies, such as increased alcohol use, struggling with sleep, or facing serious consequences such as losing their job.

Or you might notice the intensity or the frequency of the problem and/or its impact increasing. If the emotional weight of conversations becomes heavier, more frequent, or more urgent, it may signal deeper distress so may warrant more specialised, professional intervention.

Then there’s the impact of these conversations on you. If you feel overwhelmed, drained, start to avoid your friend, or dread these conversations, it may be time to encourage them to seek professional help.

This is also the case if you’re feeling out of your depth and at a loss about how best to respond to your friend.

What do I say?

One way is to think in three stages. These provide a structure that keeps the conversation supportive while gradually opening the door to something more.

1. Validate

Show you’ve truly heard and understood your friend. You might say, “That sounds really exhausting. I can see why you’re feeling overwhelmed”, or “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. It makes sense this is affecting you”.

2. Show concern

Then you can gently share your concern. This involves shifting from simply listening to naming what you’ve been noticing, without criticism or judgement. You might say, “I’ve been thinking about what you’ve been going through, and I’m a bit worried about how much it’s been affecting you”, or “I’ve noticed this has been coming up a lot and seems really heavy for you”.

Framing your words around your own observations (such as using phrases like “I’ve noticed” or “I feel”) helps keep the conversation open and avoids making your friend feel judged.

3. Therapy as support

The next step is to introduce therapy as a form of support, rather than something you are imposing. It’s important to position it as an additional layer of help, not a replacement for your friendship.

You might say, “Have you ever thought about talking to someone professionally about this?” or “I wonder if having someone trained to support you through this might help in a different way”. You could also acknowledge your limits by saying, “You deserve more support than just what I can give, and someone who’s really equipped to help with this”. Using tentative language such as “might”, “wonder” or “have you thought about” helps keep the tone collaborative and non-forceful.

It can also help to normalise therapy and reduce any sense of stigma around it. People are often more open to the idea when it feels ordinary rather than extreme.

You might frame it in terms such as, “A lot of people find it helpful to have a space like that”, or “It’s not about something being wrong with you, it’s just having support to work things through”. This helps shift therapy from something daunting to something accessible.

Sometimes your friend may be willing to seek more support but might be overwhelmed or uncertain about where to start. Gentle offers such as, “If you ever wanted to look into it, I could help you find someone,” or “I’d be happy to sit with you while you book something, if that makes it easier” can lower that barrier while still respecting their autonomy.

What if it backfires?

If your friend is hesitant or resistant, don’t push too hard. Instead, keep the door open while maintaining the relationship. You might respond with, “That’s completely OK. I just thought I’d mention it because I care”. This reassures them your support isn’t conditional on their response.

Finally, there may be times when you need to acknowledge your own limits. Being honest about this can actually strengthen the conversation, as long as it’s done with care.

You might say, “I really want to keep supporting you, but I’m also feeling a bit out of my depth with this”, or “I care about you a lot, and I think this might be something bigger than I can help with on my own.” In this way, setting a boundary becomes another form of care for your friend and for you.

Glen Hosking 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.

Many Muslim Americans are fearful following a shooting at the Islamic Center of San Diego that left three worshipers dead. Investigators reportedly found hate speech and anti-Islamic writing inside the vehicle of the suspected shooters, who killed themselves soon after the attack.

The director of the Islamic Center, Taha Hassane, condemned the attack while also encouraging individuals to respond with tolerance and love. “All of us are responsible for spreading the culture of tolerance, the culture of love,” he said, while lamenting the conditions that had led to such violence.

The attack comes just one week before the celebration of Eid al-Adha, an annual festival celebrating the Prophet Abraham’s – Ibrahim in Arabic – willingness to sacrifice his son in obedience to God, and the conclusion of the annual Hajj – the pilgrimage to Mecca, one of the five pillars of Islam.

It also comes on the heels of ongoing tensions in the Middle East and increasing political rhetoric in the United States. Republicans in Congress held hearings during the week of May 13, 2026 titled “Sharia-Free America.” This reflects a long-standing anti-Muslim trope that portrays Muslims as invaders who want to impose sharia – Islamic religious law – on all Americans. Many Muslim Americans are concerned because the rise of anti-Muslim bigotry among politicians has been mostly met with silence.

Muslim Americans have been warning that the increased rhetoric targeting Islam and Muslims endangers their community. As a scholar who studies Islamophobia and its impact on Muslim Americans, I have observed how the war with Iran intensified anti-Muslim sentiment online. A study by the Center for the Study of Organized Hate found that in the first six days of the conflict, the average number of Islamophobic posts on X jumped from an average of 2,000 posts daily to 6,000.

Research consistently shows that negative portrayals of Muslims shape public attitudes toward them and can lead to increased discrimination, psychological harm and hate crimes like the shooting in San Diego.

Increase in Islamophobia

Islamophobia in the United States tends to surge during global conflicts, political campaigns and terrorist attacks. Human Rights First, an organization that works to promote human rights in the U.S. and abroad, documented surges in Islamophobia in 2015 following the Syrian refugee crisis, when a large number of people were displaced. That same year the 2015 attacks in Paris and shooting in San Bernardino, California, intensified public anxiety about terrorism. A surge in crimes against Muslims followed.

Islamophobic rhetoric in the U.S., in which Muslims were often framed as a security threat, intensified during Donald Trump’s 2016 presidential campaign and continued into his first presidency. Burton Speakman, a scholar of digital media, and I found an increasing acceptance of such rhetoric among the political right in social media posts from 2016-19.

Social media posts and comments showed an increasing use of dehumanizing language toward Muslims. In a study I conducted in 2020, a majority of 830 Muslim Americans reported encountering the most Islamophobic content on Facebook, followed by Twitter and Instagram. This shift was also reflected in the language and coverage of Islam in right-wing media, which often portrayed Muslims as invaders wanting to impose sharia and as a drain on social welfare.

Mainstream media can also amplify negative depictions of Muslims by often discussing Islam within the context of terrorism and portraying Muslims more negatively than other racial, ethnic or religious minority groups.

Hate crimes tend to increase alongside Islamophobic rhetoric. During 2016, a period with high rates of Islamophobic rhetoric, there were 307 reported incidents – the highest recorded number since immediately following 9/11. The numbers dropped in 2017 but were followed by an increase in 2024 with the start of the Israel-Hamas war. That year, 288 anti-Muslim hate crimes were reported.

A 2025 poll found that 63% of American Muslims reported experiencing religious discrimination, with many reporting at least one such incident every year since 2016.

Mental health of Muslim Americans

The cumulative effects of Islamophobia have an impact an American Muslims’ mental health and access to care.

Numerous studies since 9/11 link the high rates of discrimination experienced by the Muslim American community to higher rates of depression. Experiences of discrimination also lead some Muslim Americans to believe they are not viewed as being American.

Thirty-one percent of participants in my 2020 study described the impact of social media on their mental health. Many said they avoided displaying their Muslim identity in social media posts, supporting a Muslim political candidate on social media, or even sharing religious content or videos. Some just withdrew – 27% deactivated or deleted their social media accounts.

In addition, many Muslims reported feeling discouraged from seeking both physical and psychological treatment from non-Muslim providers. This leads Muslim Americans to significantly underutilize available services compared to other ethnic and religious minority groups.

A 2015 study found that nearly one-third of Muslim Americans reported experiencing discrimination in health care settings, which has an impact on their trust in providers. The majority reported rude treatment by providers, insensitivity regarding modesty requirements, or having their pain disregarded. One participant in that study said: “Going into a surgery, health care providers didn’t recognize the importance of me keeping my hijab on and wanting most of my body covered.”

In my 2023 study, a number of participants described personal experiences with mental health professionals who seemed not to see them as individuals beyond their religious affiliation. One participant described a provider as being “quick to attribute problems” to religion or culture. “I worry about them stereotyping and end up feeling as if I’m on the defense,” this participant said.

My most recent study, conducted in 2024, which is currently under review, asked 325 Muslim Americans who had used any psychological services about their health-seeking behavior: 56% said they were worried about provider bias; 57% were worried about being misunderstood.

Following Trump’s travel ban targeting several Muslim countries in 2017, a study conducted by researchers at the Yale School of Public Health found that many Muslim Americans skipped their primary care appointments. At the same time, their visits to the emergency room went up.

Addressing the challenges

In response, a number of initiatives have emerged at the local and national levels.

One approach involves increasing mental health literacy within Muslim communities and creating networks of mental health professionals working with Muslim clients.

For example, mental health professionals and community leaders are working to increase mental health literacy both digitally and through in-person education. Muslim community members learn about symptoms of mental health disorders through training, such as Mental Health First Aid. Online directories of Muslim mental health providers have also been created.

Another approach involves training mental health professionals. A team at Stanford University has created a six-part training module that provides therapists with knowledge of religious norms and an opportunity to reflect on their own possible biases.

Finally, Muslim researchers and providers have begun to develop therapies and resources that integrate Muslim beliefs and spiritual approaches with treatment. These include psychotherapy that is inspired by the Quran, the teachings of the prophet and spiritual practices such as self-reflection, prayer and mindfulness.

A vulnerable community

The war with Iran has fueled an increase in anti-Muslim rhetoric that has increasingly spilled into political discourse. In February 2026, for example, U.S. Rep. Randy Fine of Florida posted on X that “the choice between dogs and Muslims is not a difficult one.” In another post he wrote, “We need more Islamophobia, not less.” Similarly, U.S. Rep. Brandon Gill of Texas called for stopping the entry of “Muslims immigrating to America.”

The shooting at the Islamic Center of San Diego has deepened fear of harassment and violence among an already vulnerable community.

Muslim Americans can often feel powerless in the face of such hostility. Greater public awareness, stronger advocacy and efforts to address the mental health impacts of anti-Muslim hatred are critical for a community that already feels vulnerable.

This is an updated version of an article first published on April 17, 2026.

Anisah Bagasra receives funding from Meta for Content Policy research in 2019