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People Hate Daylight Saving. Science Tells Us Why.

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Monday, March 11, 2024

In the summer of 2017, when communication professor Jeffery Gentry moved from Oklahoma to accept a position at Eastern New Mexico University, he was pleasantly surprised to find it easier to get up in the morning. The difference, he realized, was early morning light. On September mornings in Portales, New Mexico, Gentry rose with the sun at around 6:30 a.m., but at that time of day in Oklahoma, it was still dark.As the Earth rotates, the sun reaches the eastern edge of a time zone first, with sunrise and sunset occurring progressively later as you move west. Gentry’s move had taken him from the western side of Central Time in Oklahoma to the eastern edge of Mountain Time. Following his curiosity into the scientific literature, he discovered the field of chronobiology, the study of biological rhythms, such as how cycles of daylight and dark affect living things. “I really just stumbled upon it from being a guinea pig in my own experiment,” he said.In 2022, Gentry and an interdisciplinary team of colleagues added to that body of research, publishing a study in the journal Time & Society that showed the rate of fatal motor-vehicle accidents was highest for people living in the far west of a time zone, where the sun rises and sets at least an hour later than on the eastern side. Chronobiology research shows that longer evening light can keep people up later and that, as Gentry found, morning darkness can make it harder to get going for work or school. Western-edge folks may suffer more deadly car wrecks, the team theorized, because they are commuting in the dark while sleep deprived and not fully alert.On supporting science journalismIf you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.With all the hullabaloo over the health and safety of setting clocks forward an hour in the spring for Daylight Saving Time (DST) and back in the fall with Standard Time (ST), could where you live in a time zone actually have a more profound effect? I asked Gentry. “That’s very possible,” he said.Time researchers make this point, and research results and public opinion polls reflect it: Something is awry about the way we mark time. Those problems start with the annual toggle between DST and ST. In these days of sharp division, poll after poll finds most people unified in their dislike of switching clocks back and forth with the season. However, the question of whether to stick with ST or DST year-round once again sends people to different camps.Scientists generally advocate for permanent ST, or “natural time,” as Gentry calls it because it better aligns people’s schedules with the sun year-round. “People who study the issue are all in agreement,” he said. On the other hand, public opinion on both sides of the Atlantic tends to favor permanent DST — and many politicians agree — perhaps because of the positive associations with summer sunshine. (A bill to make that switch passed the U.S. Senate unanimously in 2022, but then stalled in the House; a new version was recently reintroduced.)Some scientists have fired back that such a move would be a grave mistake: The German newspaper Die Welt quoted pioneering chronobiologist and sleep researcher Till Roenneberg warning that permanent DST would make Europeans “dicker, dümmer und grantiger” (fatter, dumber, and grumpier).The conflict over DST versus ST makes for grabby headlines and engaging social media posts. But focusing on the clash misses the bigger questions about how we choose to mark time. A close look at the research reveals not only uncertainties about the effects of DST, but also about other factors, such as how time zones are drawn and, possibly most important, how structuring our schedules around light and dark could have a profound impact on health and safety.“We absolutely need to think about our time,” said Beth Malow, a neurologist and director of the sleep division at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. “And how are we going to actually figure this out as a country?”The 24-hour cycle of light and dark created by the Earth’s rotation is the force that rules our lives. Homer’s rosy-fingered dawn is what chronobiologists call a zeitgeber, German for “time giver” — a natural signal that touches off cyclical processes in the body governing our internal clocks. Morning light, for example, cues our bodies to ramp up production of cortisol, a hormone that helps us feel awake and alert. Meanwhile, as cortisol dwindles through the evening, darkness triggers the sleep-promoting hormone melatonin.In the language of chronobiologists, the biological clock rhythms of humans and other animals are entrained, or synchronized, to the solar clock.Humans have devised schemes such as time zones and Daylight Saving Time to optimize their interactions with these natural cycles of light and dark. But the match between time policy and the zeitgeber is often imperfect.When we set clocks forward with DST in the spring, many people suddenly have to get up for school or work before the light has jumpstarted physiological processes associated with wakefulness. Cortisol levels peak about an hour later during DST according to a 2014 Australian study. Then, at the other end of the day, people have to go to bed before hours of darkness have signaled to their body that it’s time to sleep.The abrupt change, especially to DST in the spring, can wreak havoc on health and safety. In a 2020 commentary for JAMA Neurology, Beth Malow and colleagues outline evidence for negative health effects during the DST transition, including less and poorer quality sleep, an increased risk of stroke and heart attack, and a decreased sense of well-being, particularly for men who work full time.In addition, although the research on road safety is mixed, some studies find an uptick in traffic accidents and fatalities in the days after the DST switch.However, those bad effects are fleeting. The longer-term impact of DST is hard to research because the amount of sunlight changes with the seasons. Only one study has directly compared permanent DST to permanent ST: a seven-year study of students aged 10 to 24 living in northwestern Russia when the government mandated a switch from seasonal DST to year-around DST in 2011 — and then switched again, to permanent ST, in 2014.Permanent DST meant that the sun also rose and set later in the winter. Results published in 2017 associated year-round DST with a greater likelihood of feeling down in the winter as well as sleeping later on weekends, a phenomenon known as social jet lag. Chronobiologist Till Roenneberg and colleagues coined the term nearly two decades ago to describe the chronic sleep deprivation that people experience when they have to get up for school or work before they would awaken naturally.“Social jet lag is the umbrella term for not being able to live in sync with one’s biological time,” said Roenneberg. He likens wakening with an alarm to stopping the washing machine before the cycle is complete: “All we get is wet and dirty laundry,” he said. “And that’s what we get in our body.”Social jet lag is an artifact of our modern world. Nearly half of U.S. adults sleep at least an hour later when they have the chance, according to a study published in JAMA Network Open in 2022. And research suggests that the phenomenon is especially pronounced in adolescents due to both biology — melatonin release tends to be delayed in that age group, for example — and environmental factors such as late nights on electronics and early school-start times.Research by Roenneberg and others have associated social jet lag — and the sleep deprivation it reflects — with smoking and consuming higher amounts of alcohol and caffeine as well as a range of ill health effects including obesity, metabolic syndrome (a group of health conditions that increase the risk of heart disease, stroke, and type 2 diabetes), risk factors for heart disease, and depression. Studies have also linked social jet lag to worse academic performance for high school and college students.In a thorough review, Roenneberg and colleagues argue that by pushing sunrise and sunset an hour later, permanent DST is bound to worsen social jet lag. But the Russian study is the only direct evidence of that link, and it’s uncertain whether those effects, which the Russian researchers characterize as “small or very small,” apply to older age groups or people living where the cycles of light and dark are less extreme. In Vorkuta, one of three cities in the study, for example, the sun never rises for a time in the winter and never sets for six weeks in the summer.Like all of the researchers I spoke with for this story, Derk-Jan Dijk, a sleep and physiology professor at the University of Surrey in England, sees potential harm in permanently setting our clocks an hour ahead because in the winter many people would have to start their day in darkness. “Any schedule that implies that you have to get up before sunrise may cause problems,” said Dijk. But he also doesn’t like to overstate the case against DST, especially when we observe it seasonally.“The entire discussion about Daylight Saving Time and how bad it is upsets me a little bit,” he told me. The slight effects seen during the transition to DST in the spring and then back to ST in the autumn, quickly disappear he noted. “There is no good evidence that during the entire summer, when we are on Daylight Saving Time, everything is worse,” he said. “I don’t think the evidence is there.”Polls show that we generally dislike mucking with time twice a year. Nearly two-thirds of Americans want to eliminate the changing of clocks, according to a nationally representative survey of 1,500 U.S. adults conducted by The Economist magazine and market research company YouGov in 2021.Permanent DST enjoys bipartisan support among many political leaders in the U.S. In a document supporting the Sunshine Protection Act, Sen. Marco Rubio, Republican of Florida, cites evidence that DST promotes health, safety, recreation, commerce, and energy savings. However, some of that research focuses on the harms of switching back and forth, so one could also use it to support year-around ST.In other cases, Rubio cherry picks studies showing benefits to DST while ignoring contradictory research. A 2020 report from the Congressional Research Service prepared for members of the U.S. Congress did not find substantial evidence that DST improves health and safety or that it reduces energy consumption by much — if at all.And, in drumming up supportive evidence, the permanent DST camp hits the same wall as the eliminate DST camp: Researchers haven’t sufficiently studied the effects of year-around DST.In a controversial 2020 perspective for the journal Clocks & Sleep, sleep scientists Christina Blume and Manuel Schabus call on the scientific establishment to own up to uncertainties in the existing data and to do the research needed to fill those holes. Still, even Blume acknowledges that taken as a whole, the available data makes a decent case that changing clocks to shift light from the morning to the evening could be bad for our health and safety.“We all agree as researchers that the safer option is to go for perennial Standard Time,” said Blume, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Basel in Switzerland.The nonprofit organization Save Standard Time lists endorsements from more than 30 sleep-science and medical organizations — including the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, the American Medical Association, and the American Academy of Neurology among others — in addition to individual scientists and researchers.Here, I feel compelled to note that the last time we tried permanent DST, it didn’t go well. In attempt to conserve energy, Congress established a trial period of year-round DST in late 1973. But public approval dropped precipitously as Americans faced the reality of dark winter mornings. By October 1974, the country had reverted to four months of yearly ST.The disconnect between the perception and reality arises because of how we think and talk about the seasons and time change, said neurologist Malow, who testified before the U.S. Congress about the benefits of permanent ST. “People have associated being on standard time, with it being cold and winter and dark,” she said. Meanwhile “springing forward” coincides with the return of warmer, longer days.But, of course, DST doesn’t buy you more light. Winter days are short and summer days are long regardless of how you mark time.In addition to DST, other factors about how we control light and time in our environment — how we draw time zones, use artificial light, and set school and work schedules — affect our relationship to the solar clock as well as health and safety.To understand time zones, it helps to go back to basic geography. The Earth rotates all the way around in 24 hours. Imagine longitude lines running north and south separating the globe into 24 segments, each marking one hour’s rotation. Time zones roughly follow those longitude lines. As the Earth rotates, the sun rises and sets first on the eastern edge of a time zone, and then about an hour later on the western edge.Things gets interesting on either side of a time-zone boundary, where the sun position is essentially the same, but the clock time is different. In late January, for example, the sun sets around 6:10 p.m. in Columbus, Georgia in Eastern Time, but at 5:10 p.m. just over the time-zone border in Auburn, Alabama.People living on the late-sunset side of a time-zone border, like those in Columbus, tend to go to bed later, sleeping an average of around 20 minutes less each night than those on the early-sunset side, like those in Auburn, according to a 2019 study published in the Journal of Health Economics. Drawing on large national surveys and data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, researchers found that health outcomes associated with sleep deficiency and social jet lag were worse for the late-sunset folks. Their wages were also about 3 percent lower than those of early-sunset people, who, better rested, were presumably more productive.“The effects are larger when you zoom in really close the border,” said study co-author Osea Giuntella, an economics professor at the University of Pittsburgh.Seasonal changes, including the shift to DST in the spring, didn’t have a significant effect. Giuntella said that it’s possible that where you live in a time zone could have a bigger effect than DST, but he couldn’t be sure because DST wasn’t a focus of the study. That would be harder to study, he noted, as the time change typically affects people on both sides of a time-zone border. (Arizona is the only state in the continental U.S. that does not observe DST.)Another tricky aspect of time zones is that they don’t strictly adhere to longitude lines, but instead meander to accommodate city and state boundaries. In the U.S., all the time zones except Pacific Time encompass areas west of what would be the natural time-zone boundary. Communication professor Jeffery Gentry and a team that included Eastern New Mexico University professors with expertise in geography, biology, and education have dubbed those regions west of the geographic time zone “eccentric time localities,” or ETLs.In these ETLs, sunrise and sunset time may occur more than an hour later than the eastern side of the time zone. For example, geographically, Marquette, Mich., should be in Central Time, but instead the city lies in an ETL in Eastern Time. In late October, the sun rises at around 7:10 a.m. Eastern Time in Bangor, Maine, but not until around 8:30 a.m. in Marquette.Gentry and colleague’s analysis of more than 400,000 fatal traffic accidents that occurred between 2006 and 2017 showed that ETL residents suffered a 22 percent higher fatality rate than those living elsewhere in the time zone. If the death rate in ETLs had been the same as the rest of the time zone, they would have experienced about 15,000 fewer fatalities over 12 years, according to the analysis.The most likely explanation, according to the researchers, is that people in ETLs are forced to keep schedules that are out of sync with cues from the solar clock — what the authors call “dysfunctional social time.” Compared to people living with more light in the morning and less in the evening, Gentry told me, ETL dwellers may not sleep as long or as well and may be less sharp for their morning commute.The authors accounted for differences in urban and rural areas, but not for other factors linked to traffic accidents such as speed limits, drunk driving, and road conditions. Still, Gentry said that the strength of the study is the size and completeness of the data set, meaning that small regional differences are unlikely to affect the overall results. “We eliminated everything we could and we still have a pretty stark number here,” said Gentry.Gentry would like to see time zones redrawn. But other policy fixes could help as well. The authors didn’t explore whether accidents varied by season, but they found evidence from other research strong enough to presume that DST magnifies the potential harm of living in an ETL. Gentry said that notion leaves him hopeful because he views DST as simple enough to fix. “I’m more positive that if Daylight Saving Time were eliminated, that we might save quite a few lives.”The focus on issues like DST and time zones, some researchers say, can overlook another key part of the time policy puzzle.In our artificially lit world, our internal clocks are affected by far more than sunrise and sunset. No doubt, the sun is the strongest zeitgeber, but artificial light also affects our internal clocks, said sleep researcher Derk-Jan Dijk. He dismissed the notion that humans are entrained solely to the sun as a romantic idea. “We, to a large extent, have divorced our activity schedules from the natural light-dark cycle,” he said.A body of research shows that even dim light can suppress melatonin production and delay sleep. Blue light from fluorescent lights and our ubiquitous screens, which has the shortest wavelength and highest energy of light that the human eye can see, has a particularly powerful effect on circadian rhythms.Dijk is frustrated that focus on DST overlooks harder questions about the built environment and how we choose to live and work. “The more general question is how the heck do we actually come up with our work schedules and social schedules, which basically determine to what extent we make use of natural light versus man-made light?” said Dijk. Aligning our sleep and work schedules with the light that is available for free would not only be better for us, but, because we’d use less electricity to power devices late into the night, better for the planet.Doing so goes far beyond the details of the daylight saving debate — although it involves changes that are not so easily legislated by Congress.Like many other researchers, Dijk advocates for adjusting school-start times and allowing flexible work schedules so that people don’t have to get up before sunrise. In the time-zone study by Giuntella and colleagues, for example, when people could sleep later in the morning — because they were unemployed or started work later — they didn’t seem to experience the negative effects of living with later sunsets.And, although it sounds like a radical idea, states could also adjust time-zone boundaries. “I don’t think we want 10 time zones, but maybe we add one for the Northeast,” said Malow. Because the New England states are so far east, winter sunsets come early — before 4 p.m. in December in parts of Maine.And then there is the question of whether so-called ETLs would better align with the time zone to their west. For example, Malow lives in the Nashville area in Central Time, but part of the state juts into Eastern time. “If we could get Eastern Tennessee into Central Time, that would solve a lot of problems,” she said. As it is, if the country shifts to permanent DST, the cities of Chattanooga and Knoxville wouldn’t see the sun until nearly 9 a.m. in January or darkness until nearly 10 p.m. in June.Chronobiologist Till Roenneberg and colleagues have also suggested redrawing time-zone boundaries in Europe, which in some cases are even more skewed than those in the U.S.Ideally, Malow would like to see all of the above — flexible schedules, adjusted time zones, and permanent ST. “It’s important to look at the whole picture, and for us to figure something out,” said Malow. She’s somewhat hopeful as the discussions about how we mark time are not particularly partisan and changes wouldn’t cost much if anything.It could even bring people together across the political divide, said Malow. “Wouldn’t that be great?” she said. “Stopping the clock back and forth could be the great unifier in our country.”This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

Something is awry about the way we mark time. Can research and policy changes help us reset the clocks?

In the summer of 2017, when communication professor Jeffery Gentry moved from Oklahoma to accept a position at Eastern New Mexico University, he was pleasantly surprised to find it easier to get up in the morning. The difference, he realized, was early morning light. On September mornings in Portales, New Mexico, Gentry rose with the sun at around 6:30 a.m., but at that time of day in Oklahoma, it was still dark.

As the Earth rotates, the sun reaches the eastern edge of a time zone first, with sunrise and sunset occurring progressively later as you move west. Gentry’s move had taken him from the western side of Central Time in Oklahoma to the eastern edge of Mountain Time. Following his curiosity into the scientific literature, he discovered the field of chronobiology, the study of biological rhythms, such as how cycles of daylight and dark affect living things. “I really just stumbled upon it from being a guinea pig in my own experiment,” he said.

In 2022, Gentry and an interdisciplinary team of colleagues added to that body of research, publishing a study in the journal Time & Society that showed the rate of fatal motor-vehicle accidents was highest for people living in the far west of a time zone, where the sun rises and sets at least an hour later than on the eastern side. Chronobiology research shows that longer evening light can keep people up later and that, as Gentry found, morning darkness can make it harder to get going for work or school. Western-edge folks may suffer more deadly car wrecks, the team theorized, because they are commuting in the dark while sleep deprived and not fully alert.


On supporting science journalism

If you're enjoying this article, consider supporting our award-winning journalism by subscribing. By purchasing a subscription you are helping to ensure the future of impactful stories about the discoveries and ideas shaping our world today.


With all the hullabaloo over the health and safety of setting clocks forward an hour in the spring for Daylight Saving Time (DST) and back in the fall with Standard Time (ST), could where you live in a time zone actually have a more profound effect? I asked Gentry. “That’s very possible,” he said.

Time researchers make this point, and research results and public opinion polls reflect it: Something is awry about the way we mark time. Those problems start with the annual toggle between DST and ST. In these days of sharp division, poll after poll finds most people unified in their dislike of switching clocks back and forth with the season. However, the question of whether to stick with ST or DST year-round once again sends people to different camps.

Scientists generally advocate for permanent ST, or “natural time,” as Gentry calls it because it better aligns people’s schedules with the sun year-round. “People who study the issue are all in agreement,” he said. On the other hand, public opinion on both sides of the Atlantic tends to favor permanent DST — and many politicians agree — perhaps because of the positive associations with summer sunshine. (A bill to make that switch passed the U.S. Senate unanimously in 2022, but then stalled in the House; a new version was recently reintroduced.)

Some scientists have fired back that such a move would be a grave mistake: The German newspaper Die Welt quoted pioneering chronobiologist and sleep researcher Till Roenneberg warning that permanent DST would make Europeans “dicker, dümmer und grantiger” (fatter, dumber, and grumpier).

The conflict over DST versus ST makes for grabby headlines and engaging social media posts. But focusing on the clash misses the bigger questions about how we choose to mark time. A close look at the research reveals not only uncertainties about the effects of DST, but also about other factors, such as how time zones are drawn and, possibly most important, how structuring our schedules around light and dark could have a profound impact on health and safety.

“We absolutely need to think about our time,” said Beth Malow, a neurologist and director of the sleep division at Vanderbilt University Medical Center. “And how are we going to actually figure this out as a country?”

The 24-hour cycle of light and dark created by the Earth’s rotation is the force that rules our lives. Homer’s rosy-fingered dawn is what chronobiologists call a zeitgeber, German for “time giver” — a natural signal that touches off cyclical processes in the body governing our internal clocks. Morning light, for example, cues our bodies to ramp up production of cortisol, a hormone that helps us feel awake and alert. Meanwhile, as cortisol dwindles through the evening, darkness triggers the sleep-promoting hormone melatonin.

In the language of chronobiologists, the biological clock rhythms of humans and other animals are entrained, or synchronized, to the solar clock.

Humans have devised schemes such as time zones and Daylight Saving Time to optimize their interactions with these natural cycles of light and dark. But the match between time policy and the zeitgeber is often imperfect.

When we set clocks forward with DST in the spring, many people suddenly have to get up for school or work before the light has jumpstarted physiological processes associated with wakefulness. Cortisol levels peak about an hour later during DST according to a 2014 Australian study. Then, at the other end of the day, people have to go to bed before hours of darkness have signaled to their body that it’s time to sleep.

The abrupt change, especially to DST in the spring, can wreak havoc on health and safety. In a 2020 commentary for JAMA Neurology, Beth Malow and colleagues outline evidence for negative health effects during the DST transition, including less and poorer quality sleep, an increased risk of stroke and heart attack, and a decreased sense of well-being, particularly for men who work full time.

In addition, although the research on road safety is mixed, some studies find an uptick in traffic accidents and fatalities in the days after the DST switch.

However, those bad effects are fleeting. The longer-term impact of DST is hard to research because the amount of sunlight changes with the seasons. Only one study has directly compared permanent DST to permanent ST: a seven-year study of students aged 10 to 24 living in northwestern Russia when the government mandated a switch from seasonal DST to year-around DST in 2011 — and then switched again, to permanent ST, in 2014.

Permanent DST meant that the sun also rose and set later in the winter. Results published in 2017 associated year-round DST with a greater likelihood of feeling down in the winter as well as sleeping later on weekends, a phenomenon known as social jet lag. Chronobiologist Till Roenneberg and colleagues coined the term nearly two decades ago to describe the chronic sleep deprivation that people experience when they have to get up for school or work before they would awaken naturally.

“Social jet lag is the umbrella term for not being able to live in sync with one’s biological time,” said Roenneberg. He likens wakening with an alarm to stopping the washing machine before the cycle is complete: “All we get is wet and dirty laundry,” he said. “And that’s what we get in our body.”

Social jet lag is an artifact of our modern world. Nearly half of U.S. adults sleep at least an hour later when they have the chance, according to a study published in JAMA Network Open in 2022. And research suggests that the phenomenon is especially pronounced in adolescents due to both biology — melatonin release tends to be delayed in that age group, for example — and environmental factors such as late nights on electronics and early school-start times.

Research by Roenneberg and others have associated social jet lag — and the sleep deprivation it reflects — with smoking and consuming higher amounts of alcohol and caffeine as well as a range of ill health effects including obesity, metabolic syndrome (a group of health conditions that increase the risk of heart disease, stroke, and type 2 diabetes), risk factors for heart disease, and depression. Studies have also linked social jet lag to worse academic performance for high school and college students.

In a thorough review, Roenneberg and colleagues argue that by pushing sunrise and sunset an hour later, permanent DST is bound to worsen social jet lag. But the Russian study is the only direct evidence of that link, and it’s uncertain whether those effects, which the Russian researchers characterize as “small or very small,” apply to older age groups or people living where the cycles of light and dark are less extreme. In Vorkuta, one of three cities in the study, for example, the sun never rises for a time in the winter and never sets for six weeks in the summer.

Like all of the researchers I spoke with for this story, Derk-Jan Dijk, a sleep and physiology professor at the University of Surrey in England, sees potential harm in permanently setting our clocks an hour ahead because in the winter many people would have to start their day in darkness. “Any schedule that implies that you have to get up before sunrise may cause problems,” said Dijk. But he also doesn’t like to overstate the case against DST, especially when we observe it seasonally.

“The entire discussion about Daylight Saving Time and how bad it is upsets me a little bit,” he told me. The slight effects seen during the transition to DST in the spring and then back to ST in the autumn, quickly disappear he noted. “There is no good evidence that during the entire summer, when we are on Daylight Saving Time, everything is worse,” he said. “I don’t think the evidence is there.”

Polls show that we generally dislike mucking with time twice a year. Nearly two-thirds of Americans want to eliminate the changing of clocks, according to a nationally representative survey of 1,500 U.S. adults conducted by The Economist magazine and market research company YouGov in 2021.

Permanent DST enjoys bipartisan support among many political leaders in the U.S. In a document supporting the Sunshine Protection Act, Sen. Marco Rubio, Republican of Florida, cites evidence that DST promotes health, safety, recreation, commerce, and energy savings. However, some of that research focuses on the harms of switching back and forth, so one could also use it to support year-around ST.

In other cases, Rubio cherry picks studies showing benefits to DST while ignoring contradictory research. A 2020 report from the Congressional Research Service prepared for members of the U.S. Congress did not find substantial evidence that DST improves health and safety or that it reduces energy consumption by much — if at all.

And, in drumming up supportive evidence, the permanent DST camp hits the same wall as the eliminate DST camp: Researchers haven’t sufficiently studied the effects of year-around DST.

In a controversial 2020 perspective for the journal Clocks & Sleep, sleep scientists Christina Blume and Manuel Schabus call on the scientific establishment to own up to uncertainties in the existing data and to do the research needed to fill those holes. Still, even Blume acknowledges that taken as a whole, the available data makes a decent case that changing clocks to shift light from the morning to the evening could be bad for our health and safety.

“We all agree as researchers that the safer option is to go for perennial Standard Time,” said Blume, a postdoctoral researcher at the University of Basel in Switzerland.

The nonprofit organization Save Standard Time lists endorsements from more than 30 sleep-science and medical organizations — including the American Academy of Sleep Medicine, the American Medical Association, and the American Academy of Neurology among others — in addition to individual scientists and researchers.

Here, I feel compelled to note that the last time we tried permanent DST, it didn’t go well. In attempt to conserve energy, Congress established a trial period of year-round DST in late 1973. But public approval dropped precipitously as Americans faced the reality of dark winter mornings. By October 1974, the country had reverted to four months of yearly ST.

The disconnect between the perception and reality arises because of how we think and talk about the seasons and time change, said neurologist Malow, who testified before the U.S. Congress about the benefits of permanent ST. “People have associated being on standard time, with it being cold and winter and dark,” she said. Meanwhile “springing forward” coincides with the return of warmer, longer days.

But, of course, DST doesn’t buy you more light. Winter days are short and summer days are long regardless of how you mark time.

In addition to DST, other factors about how we control light and time in our environment — how we draw time zones, use artificial light, and set school and work schedules — affect our relationship to the solar clock as well as health and safety.

To understand time zones, it helps to go back to basic geography. The Earth rotates all the way around in 24 hours. Imagine longitude lines running north and south separating the globe into 24 segments, each marking one hour’s rotation. Time zones roughly follow those longitude lines. As the Earth rotates, the sun rises and sets first on the eastern edge of a time zone, and then about an hour later on the western edge.

Things gets interesting on either side of a time-zone boundary, where the sun position is essentially the same, but the clock time is different. In late January, for example, the sun sets around 6:10 p.m. in Columbus, Georgia in Eastern Time, but at 5:10 p.m. just over the time-zone border in Auburn, Alabama.

People living on the late-sunset side of a time-zone border, like those in Columbus, tend to go to bed later, sleeping an average of around 20 minutes less each night than those on the early-sunset side, like those in Auburn, according to a 2019 study published in the Journal of Health Economics. Drawing on large national surveys and data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, researchers found that health outcomes associated with sleep deficiency and social jet lag were worse for the late-sunset folks. Their wages were also about 3 percent lower than those of early-sunset people, who, better rested, were presumably more productive.

“The effects are larger when you zoom in really close the border,” said study co-author Osea Giuntella, an economics professor at the University of Pittsburgh.

Seasonal changes, including the shift to DST in the spring, didn’t have a significant effect. Giuntella said that it’s possible that where you live in a time zone could have a bigger effect than DST, but he couldn’t be sure because DST wasn’t a focus of the study. That would be harder to study, he noted, as the time change typically affects people on both sides of a time-zone border. (Arizona is the only state in the continental U.S. that does not observe DST.)

Another tricky aspect of time zones is that they don’t strictly adhere to longitude lines, but instead meander to accommodate city and state boundaries. In the U.S., all the time zones except Pacific Time encompass areas west of what would be the natural time-zone boundary. Communication professor Jeffery Gentry and a team that included Eastern New Mexico University professors with expertise in geography, biology, and education have dubbed those regions west of the geographic time zone “eccentric time localities,” or ETLs.

In these ETLs, sunrise and sunset time may occur more than an hour later than the eastern side of the time zone. For example, geographically, Marquette, Mich., should be in Central Time, but instead the city lies in an ETL in Eastern Time. In late October, the sun rises at around 7:10 a.m. Eastern Time in Bangor, Maine, but not until around 8:30 a.m. in Marquette.

Gentry and colleague’s analysis of more than 400,000 fatal traffic accidents that occurred between 2006 and 2017 showed that ETL residents suffered a 22 percent higher fatality rate than those living elsewhere in the time zone. If the death rate in ETLs had been the same as the rest of the time zone, they would have experienced about 15,000 fewer fatalities over 12 years, according to the analysis.

The most likely explanation, according to the researchers, is that people in ETLs are forced to keep schedules that are out of sync with cues from the solar clock — what the authors call “dysfunctional social time.” Compared to people living with more light in the morning and less in the evening, Gentry told me, ETL dwellers may not sleep as long or as well and may be less sharp for their morning commute.

The authors accounted for differences in urban and rural areas, but not for other factors linked to traffic accidents such as speed limits, drunk driving, and road conditions. Still, Gentry said that the strength of the study is the size and completeness of the data set, meaning that small regional differences are unlikely to affect the overall results. “We eliminated everything we could and we still have a pretty stark number here,” said Gentry.

Gentry would like to see time zones redrawn. But other policy fixes could help as well. The authors didn’t explore whether accidents varied by season, but they found evidence from other research strong enough to presume that DST magnifies the potential harm of living in an ETL. Gentry said that notion leaves him hopeful because he views DST as simple enough to fix. “I’m more positive that if Daylight Saving Time were eliminated, that we might save quite a few lives.”

The focus on issues like DST and time zones, some researchers say, can overlook another key part of the time policy puzzle.

In our artificially lit world, our internal clocks are affected by far more than sunrise and sunset. No doubt, the sun is the strongest zeitgeber, but artificial light also affects our internal clocks, said sleep researcher Derk-Jan Dijk. He dismissed the notion that humans are entrained solely to the sun as a romantic idea. “We, to a large extent, have divorced our activity schedules from the natural light-dark cycle,” he said.

A body of research shows that even dim light can suppress melatonin production and delay sleep. Blue light from fluorescent lights and our ubiquitous screens, which has the shortest wavelength and highest energy of light that the human eye can see, has a particularly powerful effect on circadian rhythms.

Dijk is frustrated that focus on DST overlooks harder questions about the built environment and how we choose to live and work. “The more general question is how the heck do we actually come up with our work schedules and social schedules, which basically determine to what extent we make use of natural light versus man-made light?” said Dijk. Aligning our sleep and work schedules with the light that is available for free would not only be better for us, but, because we’d use less electricity to power devices late into the night, better for the planet.

Doing so goes far beyond the details of the daylight saving debate — although it involves changes that are not so easily legislated by Congress.

Like many other researchers, Dijk advocates for adjusting school-start times and allowing flexible work schedules so that people don’t have to get up before sunrise. In the time-zone study by Giuntella and colleagues, for example, when people could sleep later in the morning — because they were unemployed or started work later — they didn’t seem to experience the negative effects of living with later sunsets.

And, although it sounds like a radical idea, states could also adjust time-zone boundaries. “I don’t think we want 10 time zones, but maybe we add one for the Northeast,” said Malow. Because the New England states are so far east, winter sunsets come early — before 4 p.m. in December in parts of Maine.

And then there is the question of whether so-called ETLs would better align with the time zone to their west. For example, Malow lives in the Nashville area in Central Time, but part of the state juts into Eastern time. “If we could get Eastern Tennessee into Central Time, that would solve a lot of problems,” she said. As it is, if the country shifts to permanent DST, the cities of Chattanooga and Knoxville wouldn’t see the sun until nearly 9 a.m. in January or darkness until nearly 10 p.m. in June.

Chronobiologist Till Roenneberg and colleagues have also suggested redrawing time-zone boundaries in Europe, which in some cases are even more skewed than those in the U.S.

Ideally, Malow would like to see all of the above — flexible schedules, adjusted time zones, and permanent ST. “It’s important to look at the whole picture, and for us to figure something out,” said Malow. She’s somewhat hopeful as the discussions about how we mark time are not particularly partisan and changes wouldn’t cost much if anything.

It could even bring people together across the political divide, said Malow. “Wouldn’t that be great?” she said. “Stopping the clock back and forth could be the great unifier in our country.”

This article was originally published on Undark. Read the original article.

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Laurent Demanet appointed co-director of MIT Center for Computational Science and Engineering

Applied mathematics professor will join fellow co-director Nicolas Hadjiconstantinou in leading the cross-cutting center.

Laurent Demanet, MIT professor of applied mathematics, has been appointed co-director of the MIT Center for Computational Science and Engineering (CCSE), effective Sept. 1.Demanet, who holds a joint appointment in the departments of Mathematics and Earth, Atmospheric and Planetary Sciences — where he previously served as director of the Earth Resources Laboratory — succeeds Youssef Marzouk, who is now serving as the associate dean of the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing.Joining co-director Nicolas Hadjiconstantinou, the Quentin Berg (1937) Professor of Mechanical Engineering, Demanet will help lead CCSE, supporting students, faculty, and researchers while fostering a vibrant community of innovation and discovery in computational science and engineering (CSE).“Laurent’s ability to translate concepts of computational science and engineering into understandable, real-world applications is an invaluable asset to CCSE. His interdisciplinary experience is a benefit to the visibility and impact of CSE research and education. I look forward to working with him,” says Dan Huttenlocher, dean of the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing and the Henry Ellis Warren Professor of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science.“I’m pleased to welcome Laurent into his new role as co-director of CCSE. His work greatly supports the cross-cutting methodology at the heart of the computational science and engineering community. I’m excited for CCSE to have a co-director from the School of Science, and eager to see the center continue to broaden its connections across MIT,” says Asu Ozdaglar, deputy dean of the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing, department head of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, and MathWorks Professor.Established in 2008, CCSE was incorporated into the MIT Schwarzman College of Computing as one of its core academic units in January 2020. An interdisciplinary research and education center dedicated to pioneering applications of computation, CCSE houses faculty, researchers, and students from a range of MIT schools, such as the schools of Engineering, Science, Architecture and Planning, and the MIT Sloan School of Management, as well as other units of the college.“I look forward to working with Nicolas and the college leadership on raising the profile of CCSE on campus and globally. We will be pursuing a set of initiatives that span from enhancing the visibility of our research and strengthening our CSE PhD program, to expanding professional education offerings and deepening engagement with our alumni and with industry,” says Demanet.Demanet’s research lies at the intersection of applied mathematics and scientific computing to visualize the structures beneath Earth’s surface. He also has a strong interest in scientific computing, machine learning, inverse problems, and wave propagation. Through his position as principal investigator of the Imaging and Computing Group, Demanet and his students aim to answer fundamental questions in computational seismic imaging to increase the quality and accuracy of mapping and the projection of changes in Earth’s geological structures. The implications of his work are rooted in environmental monitoring, water resources and geothermal energy, and the understanding of seismic hazards, among others.He joined the MIT faculty in 2009. He received an Alfred P. Sloan Research Fellowship and the U.S. Air Force Young Investigator Award in 2011, and a CAREER award from the National Science Foundation in 2012. He also held the Class of 1954 Career Development Professorship from 2013 to 2016. Prior to coming to MIT, Demanet held the Szegö Assistant Professorship at Stanford University. He completed his undergraduate studies in mathematical engineering and theoretical physics at Universite de Louvain in Belgium, and earned a PhD in applied and computational mathematics at Caltech, where he was awarded the William P. Carey Prize for best dissertation in the mathematical sciences.

Scientists Reveal That the Red Sea Completely Vanished 6.2 Million Years Ago

KAUST researchers discovered that the Red Sea experienced a massive disruption 6.2 million years ago, completely transforming its marine life. Researchers at King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST) have confirmed that the Red Sea once completely dried up around 6.2 million years ago, only to be suddenly refilled by a catastrophic influx of [...]

New research shows the Red Sea dried out 6.2 million years ago before being suddenly flooded by the Indian Ocean. (Artist’s concept). Credit: SciTechDaily.comKAUST researchers discovered that the Red Sea experienced a massive disruption 6.2 million years ago, completely transforming its marine life. Researchers at King Abdullah University of Science and Technology (KAUST) have confirmed that the Red Sea once completely dried up around 6.2 million years ago, only to be suddenly refilled by a catastrophic influx of water from the Indian Ocean. Their work places a precise timeline on a remarkable event that reshaped the basin’s history. By combining seismic imaging, microfossil analysis, and geochemical dating, the team discovered that this transformation occurred within just 100,000 years, an exceptionally short span in geological terms. During this period, the Red Sea shifted from being linked to the Mediterranean to becoming a desolate salt basin. The dry phase ended when a powerful flood cut through volcanic ridges, opening the Bab el-Mandab strait and restoring the Red Sea’s connection to the global oceans. “Our findings show that the Red Sea basin records one of the most extreme environmental events on Earth, when it dried out completely and was then suddenly reflooded about 6.2 million years ago,” said lead author Dr. Tihana Pensa of KAUST. “The flood transformed the basin, restored marine conditions, and established the Red Sea’s lasting connection to the Indian Ocean.” How the Indian Ocean Flooded the Red Sea The Red Sea was initially connected from the north to the Mediterranean through a shallow sill. This connection was severed, drying the Red Sea into a barren salt desert. In the south of the Red Sea, near the Hanish Islands, a volcanic ridge separates the sea from the Indian Ocean. But around 6.2 million years ago, seawater from the Indian Ocean surged across this barrier in a catastrophic flood. The torrent carved a 320-kilometer-long submarine canyon that is still visible today on the seafloor. The flood rapidly refilled the basin, drowning the salt flats and restoring normal marine conditions in less than 100,000 years. This event happened nearly a million years before the Mediterranean was refilled by the famous Zanclean flood, giving the Red Sea a unique story of rebirth. Why the Red Sea Matters Geologically The Red Sea formed by the separation of the Arabian Plate from the African Plate beginning 30 million years ago. Initially, the sea was a narrow rift valley filled with lakes, then became a wider gulf when it was flooded from the Mediterranean 23 million years ago. Marine life thrived initially, as seen by the fossil reefs along the northern coast near Duba and Umlujj. However, evaporation and poor seawater circulation increased salinity, causing the extinction of marine life between 15 and 6 million years ago. Additionally, the basin was filled with layers of salt and gypsum. This culminated in the complete desiccation of the Red Sea. The catastrophic flood from the Indian Ocean restored marine life in the Red, which persists in the coral reefs to the present. All in all, the Red Sea is a natural laboratory for understanding how oceans are born, how salt giants accumulate, and how climate and tectonics interact over millions of years. The discovery highlights how closely the Red Sea’s history is linked with global ocean change. It also shows that the region has experienced environmental extremes before, only to return as a thriving marine ecosystem. “This paper adds to our knowledge about the processes that form and expand oceans on Earth. It also maintains KAUST’s leading position in Red Sea research,” said co-author KAUST Professor Abdulkader Al Afifi. Reference: “Desiccation of the Red Sea basin at the start of the Messinian salinity crisis was followed by major erosion and reflooding from the Indian Ocean” by Tihana Pensa, Antonio Delgado Huertas and Abdulkader M. Afifi, 9 August 2025, Communications Earth & Environment.DOI: 10.1038/s43247-025-02642-1 Never miss a breakthrough: Join the SciTechDaily newsletter.Follow us on Google, Discover, and News.

The Sun’s Poles Hold the Key to Its Three Greatest Mysteries

The Sun’s poles may hold answers to long-standing mysteries about magnetic cycles, solar wind, and space weather. The polar regions of the Sun remain one of the least explored areas in solar science. Although satellites and ground-based observatories have captured remarkable details of the Sun’s surface, atmosphere, and magnetic field, nearly all of these views [...]

The Sun’s polar regions, long hidden from our Earth-bound perspective, are a critical frontier in solar physics, holding the secrets to the solar magnetic cycle and the origin of the fast solar wind. An upcoming mission is designed to achieve an unprecedented polar orbit, promising to finally reveal these uncharted territories and transform our ability to predict space weather. Credit: Image courtesy of Zhenyong Hou and Jiasheng Wang at Peking University. Beijing Zhongke Journal Publising Co. Ltd.The Sun’s poles may hold answers to long-standing mysteries about magnetic cycles, solar wind, and space weather. The polar regions of the Sun remain one of the least explored areas in solar science. Although satellites and ground-based observatories have captured remarkable details of the Sun’s surface, atmosphere, and magnetic field, nearly all of these views come from the ecliptic plane, the narrow orbital path followed by Earth and most other planets. This restricted perspective means scientists have only limited knowledge of what occurs near the solar poles. Yet these regions are critical. Their magnetic fields and dynamic activity are central to the solar magnetic cycle and provide both mass and energy to the fast solar wind. These processes ultimately shape solar behavior and influence space weather that can reach Earth. Why the Poles Matter On the surface, the poles may seem calm compared to the Sun’s more active mid-latitudes (around ±35°), where sunspots, solar flares, and coronal mass ejections (CMEs) are common. However, research shows that polar magnetic fields contribute directly to the global solar dynamo and may act as the foundation for the next solar cycle by helping establish the Sun’s dipole magnetic field. Observations from the Ulysses mission further revealed that the fast solar wind originates mainly from vast coronal holes in the polar regions. For this reason, gaining a clearer view of the Sun’s poles is essential to addressing three of the most fundamental questions in solar physics: 1) How does the solar dynamo work and drive the solar magnetic cycle? The solar magnetic cycle refers to the periodic variation in sunspot number on the solar surface, typically on a time scale of approximately 11 years. During each cycle, the Sun’s magnetic poles undergo a reversal, with the magnetic polarities of the north and south poles switching. The Sun’s global magnetic fields are generated through a dynamo process. Key to this process are the differential rotation of the Sun that generates the active regions, and the meridional circulation that transport magnetic flux toward the poles. Yet, decades of helioseismic investigations have revealed conflicting results about the flow patterns deep within the convection zone. Some studies even suggest poleward flows at the base of the convection zone, challenging the classical dynamo models. High-latitude observations of the magnetic fields and plasma motions could provide the missing evidence to refine or rethink these models. 2) What drives the fast solar wind? The fast solar wind – a supersonic stream of charged particles – originates primarily from the polar coronal holes, and permeates the majority of the heliospheric volume, dominating the physical environment of interplanetary space. However, critical details regarding the origin of this wind remain unresolved. Does the wind originate from dense plumes within coronal holes or from the less dense regions between them? Are wave-driven processes, magnetic reconnection, or some combination of both responsible for accelerating the plasma in the wind? Direct polar imaging and in-situ measurements are required to settle the debate. 3) How do space weather events propagate through the solar system? Heliospheric space weather refers to the disturbances in the heliospheric environment caused by the solar wind and solar eruptive activities. Extreme space weather events, such as large solar flares and CMEs, can significantly trigger space environmental disturbances such as severe geomagnetic and ionospheric storms, as well as spectacular aurora phenomena, posing a serious threat to the safety of high-tech activities of human beings. To accurately predict these events, scientists must track how magnetic structures and plasma flows evolve globally, not just from the limited ecliptic view. Observations from a vantage point out of the ecliptic would provide an overlook of the CME propagation in the ecliptic plane. Past Efforts Scientists have long recognized the importance of solar polar observations. The Ulysses mission, launched in 1990, was the first spacecraft to leave the ecliptic plane and sample the solar wind over the poles. Its in-situ instruments confirmed key properties of the fast solar wind but lacked imaging capability. More recently, the European Space Agency’s Solar Orbiter has been gradually moving out of the ecliptic plane and is expected to reach latitudes of around 34° in a few years. While this represents a remarkable progress, it still falls far short of the vantage needed for a true polar view. A number of ambitious mission concepts have been proposed over the past decades, including the Solar Polar Imager (SPI), the POLAR Investigation of the Sun (POLARIS), the Solar Polar ORbit Telescope (SPORT), the Solaris mission, and the High Inclination Solar Mission (HISM). Some envisioned using advanced propulsion, such as solar sails, to reach high inclinations. Others relied on gravity assists to incrementally tilt their orbits. Each of these missions would carry both remote-sensing and in-situ instruments to image the Sun’s poles and measure key physical parameters above the poles. The SPO Mission The Solar Polar-orbit Observatory (SPO) is designed specifically to overcome the limitations of past and current missions. Scheduled for launch in January 2029, SPO will use a Jupiter gravity assist (JGA) to bend its trajectory out of the ecliptic plane. After several Earth flybys and a carefully planned encounter with Jupiter, the spacecraft will settle into a 1.5-year orbit with a perihelion of about 1 AU and an inclination of up to 75°. In its extended mission, SPO could climb to 80°, offering the most direct view of the poles ever achieved. The 15-year lifetime of the mission (including an 8-year extended mission period) will allow it to cover both solar minimum and maximum, including the crucial period around 2035 when the next solar maximum and expected polar magnetic field reversal will occur. During the whole lifetime, SPO will repeatedly pass over both poles, with extended high-latitude observation windows lasting more than 1000 days. The SPO mission aims at breakthroughs on the three scientific questions mentioned above. To meet its ambitious objectives, SPO will carry a suite of several remote-sensing and in-situ instruments. Together, they will provide a comprehensive view of the Sun’s poles. The remote-sensing instruments include the Magnetic and Helioseismic Imager (MHI) to measure magnetic fields and plasma flows at the surface, the Extreme Ultraviolet Telescope (EUT) and the X-ray Imaging Telescope (XIT) to capture dynamic events in the solar upper atmosphere, the VISible-light CORonagraph (VISCOR) and the Very Large Angle CORonagraph (VLACOR) to track the solar corona and solar wind streams out to 45 solar radii (at 1 AU). The in-situ package includes a magnetometer and particle detectors to sample the solar wind and interplanetary magnetic field directly. By combining these observations, SPO will not only capture images of the poles for the first time but also connect them to the flows of plasma and magnetic energy that shape the heliosphere. SPO will not operate in isolation. It is expected to work in concert with a growing fleet of solar missions. These include the STEREO Mission, the Hinode satellite, the Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO), the Interface Region Imaging Spectrograph (IRIS), the Advanced Space-based Solar Observatory (ASO-S), the Solar Orbiter, the Aditya-L1 mission, the PUNCH mission, as well as the upcoming L5 missions (e.g., ESA’s Vigil mission and China’s LAVSO mission). Together, these assets will form an unprecedented observational network. SPO’s polar vantage will provide the missing piece, enabling nearly global 4π coverage of the Sun for the first time in human history. Looking Ahead The Sun remains our closest star, yet in many ways it is still a mystery. With SPO, scientists are poised to unlock some of its deepest secrets. The solar polar regions, once hidden from view, will finally come into focus, reshaping our understanding of the star that sustains life on Earth. The implications of SPO extend far beyond academic curiosity. A deeper understanding of the solar dynamo could improve predictions of the solar cycle, which in turn affects space weather forecasts. Insights into the fast solar wind will enhance our ability to model the heliospheric environment, critical for spacecraft design and astronaut safety. Most importantly, better monitoring of space weather events could help protect modern technological infrastructure — from navigation and communications satellites to aviation and terrestrial power systems. Reference: “Probing Solar Polar Regions” by Yuanyong Deng, Hui Tian, Jie Jiang, Shuhong Yang, Hao Li, Robert Cameron, Laurent Gizon, Louise Harra, Robert F. Wimmer-Schweingruber, Frédéric Auchère, Xianyong Bai, Luis Rubio Bellot, Linjie Chen, Pengfei Chen, Lakshmi Pradeep Chitta, Jackie Davies, Fabio Favata, Li Feng, Xueshang Feng, Weiqun Gan, Don Hassler, Jiansen He, Junfeng Hou, Zhenyong Hou, Chunlan Jin, Wenya Li, Jiaben Lin, Dibyendu Nandy, Vaibhav Pant, Marco Romoli, Taro Sakao, Sayamanthula Krishna Prasad, Fang Shen, Yang Su, Shin Toriumi, Durgesh Tripathi, Linghua Wang, Jingjing Wang, Lidong Xia, Ming Xiong, Yihua Yan, Liping Yang, Shangbin Yang, Mei Zhang, Guiping Zhou, Xiaoshuai Zhu, Jingxiu Wang and Chi Wang, 29 August 2025, Chinese Journal of Space Science.DOI: 10.11728/cjss2025.04.2025-0054 Never miss a breakthrough: Join the SciTechDaily newsletter.Follow us on Google and Google News.

In a World-First, Scientists Directly Observe Elusive “Dark Excitons”

Using one of the world’s most advanced spectroscopy systems, researchers have developed a framework to guide studies in next-generation quantum information technologies. For the first time, scientists in the Femtosecond Spectroscopy Unit at the Okinawa Institute of Science and Technology (OIST) have directly tracked how dark excitons evolve in atomically thin materials. This achievement paves [...]

The TR-ARPES setup used in the research. Credit: Jeff Prine (OIST)Using one of the world’s most advanced spectroscopy systems, researchers have developed a framework to guide studies in next-generation quantum information technologies. For the first time, scientists in the Femtosecond Spectroscopy Unit at the Okinawa Institute of Science and Technology (OIST) have directly tracked how dark excitons evolve in atomically thin materials. This achievement paves the way for advances in both classical and quantum information technologies. The study was published in Nature Communications. Professor Keshav Dani, who leads the unit, emphasized the importance of the work: “Dark excitons have great potential as information carriers, because they are inherently less likely to interact with light, and hence less prone to degradation of their quantum properties. However, this invisibility also makes them very challenging to study and manipulate. Building on a previous breakthrough at OIST in 2020, we have opened a route to the creation, observation, and manipulation of dark excitons.” “In the general field of electronics, one manipulates electron charge to process information,” explains Xing Zhu, co-first author and PhD student in the unit. “In the field of spintronics, we exploit the spin of electrons to carry information. Going further, in valleytronics, the crystal structure of unique materials enables us to encode information into distinct momentum states of the electrons, known as valleys.” The ability to use the valley dimension of dark excitons to carry information positions them as promising candidates for quantum technologies. Dark excitons are by nature more resistant to environmental factors like thermal background than the current generation of qubits, potentially requiring less extreme cooling and making them less prone to decoherence, where the unique quantum state breaks down. The experimental setup at OIST, featuring the world-leading TR-ARPES (time- and angle-resolved photoemission spectroscopy) microscope, which features a proprietary, tabletop XUV (extreme ultraviolet) source, capable of imaging the electrons and excitons at femtosecond timescales (1fs = one quadrillionth (10-15) of a second). Credit: Jeff Prine & Andrew Scott (OIST)Defining landscapes of energy with bright and dark excitons In the last ten years, researchers have made significant strides in studying a family of atomically thin semiconductors called TMDs (transition metal dichalcogenides). Like all semiconductors, TMDs consist of atoms arranged in a crystal lattice that restricts electrons to defined energy levels, or bands, such as the valence band. When light strikes the material, electrons are lifted from the valence band into the higher-energy conduction band, leaving behind positively charged vacancies known as holes. The mutual attraction between the negatively charged electrons and positively charged holes binds them into hydrogen-like quasiparticles called excitons. If the electron and hole share specific quantum features, such as having the same spin configuration and occupying the same “valley” in momentum space (the energy minima available in the crystal lattice), they recombine within a trillionth of a second (1ps = 10−12 second), releasing light. These are known as “bright” excitons. However, if the quantum properties of the electron and hole do not match up, the electron and hole are forbidden from recombining on their own and do not emit light. These are characterized as ‘dark’ excitons. “There are two ‘species’ of dark excitons,” explains Dr. David Bacon, co-first author who is now at University College London, “momentum-dark and spin-dark, depending on where the properties of electron and hole are in conflict. The mismatch in properties not only prevents immediate recombination, allowing them to exist up to several nanoseconds (1ns = 10−9 second – a much more useful timescale), but also makes dark excitons more isolated from environmental interactions.” The atomic structure of ultrathin semiconductors like TMDs is hexagonal, and this symmetry is reflected in momentum space, where the conduction (top) and valence (bottom) bands each have local energy minima and maxima at specific points (K), which can be visualized as valleys in a momentum landscape. Time-reversal symmetry in quantum mechanics dictates that what happens in one valley is mirrored in the opposite valley: if the conduction band at K has spin-down (red), then K’ must have spin-up (blue), leading to an alternating pattern along the edge of the hexagon. Bright excitons form when the electron rests in the same valley and has the same spin as the corresponding hole. By using either left- or right-circularly polarized light, one can selectively populate bright exciton in a specific valley. The insert shows energy measurements of bright excitons, showing the contrast in valleys K and K’. Credit: Momentum landscape figure adapted Bussolotti et al., (2018) Nano Futures 2 032001. Insert adapted from Zhu et al., (2025) Nature Communications 16 6385“The unique atomic symmetry of TMDs means that when exposed to a state of light with a circular polarization, one can selectively create bright excitons only in a specific valley. This is the fundamental principle of valleytronics. However, bright excitons rapidly turn into numerous dark excitons that can potentially preserve the valley information. Which species of dark excitons are involved and to what degree they can sustain the valley information is unclear, but this is a key step in the pursuit of valleytronic applications,” explains Dr. Vivek Pareek, co-first author and OIST graduate who is now a Presidential Postdoctoral Fellow at the California Institute of Technology. Observing electrons at the femtosecond scale With the state-of-the-art TR-ARPES (time- and angle-resolved photoemission spectroscopy) system at OIST, equipped with a custom-built table-top XUV (extreme ultraviolet) source, the researchers were able to monitor how different excitons evolved after bright excitons formed in a particular valley of a TMD semiconductor. They accomplished this by measuring momentum, spin state, and the population of electrons and holes at the same time, a combination of properties that had never previously been quantified together. Graphical illustration of the results, showing how the population of different exciton emerge and evolve over time at a picosecond scale (1ps = 10−12 second). Credit: Jack Featherstone (OIST), adapted from Zhu et al. (2025) Nature Communications 16 6385Their findings show that within a picosecond, some bright excitons are scattered by phonons (quantized crystal lattice vibrations) into different momentum valleys, rendering them momentum-dark. Later, spin-dark excitons dominate, where electrons have flipped spin within the same valley, persisting on nanosecond scales. With this, the team has overcome the fundamental challenge of how to access and track dark excitons, laying the foundation for dark valleytronics as a field. Dr. Julien Madéo of the unit summarizes: “Thanks to the sophisticated TR-ARPES setup at OIST, we have directly accessed and mapped how and what dark excitons keep long-lived valley information. Future developments to read out the dark excitons valley properties will unlock broad dark valleytronic applications across information systems.” Reference: “A holistic view of the dynamics of long-lived valley polarized dark excitonic states in monolayer WS2” by Xing Zhu, David R. Bacon, Vivek Pareek, Julien Madéo, Takashi Taniguchi, Kenji Watanabe, Michael K. L. Man and Keshav M. Dani, 10 July 2025, Nature Communications.DOI: 10.1038/s41467-025-61677-2 Funding: Okinawa Institute of Science and Technology Graduate University, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Fusion Oriented REsearch for disruptive Science and Technology, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, Japan Science and Technology Agency Never miss a breakthrough: Join the SciTechDaily newsletter.

Kenya’s Turkana people genetically adapted to live in harsh environment, study suggests

Research which began with conversations round a campfire and went on to examine 7m gene variants shows how people survive with little water and a meat-rich dietA collaboration between African and American researchers and a community living in one of the most hostile landscapes of northern Kenya has uncovered key genetic adaptations that explain how pastoralist people have been able to thrive in the region.Underlying the population’s abilities to live in Turkana, a place defined by extreme heat, water scarcity and limited vegetation, has been hundreds of years of natural selection, according to a study published in Science. Continue reading...

A collaboration between African and American researchers and a community living in one of the most hostile landscapes of northern Kenya has uncovered key genetic adaptations that explain how pastoralist people have been able to thrive in the region.Underlying the population’s abilities to live in Turkana, a place defined by extreme heat, water scarcity and limited vegetation, has been hundreds of years of natural selection, according to a study published in Science.It shows how the activity of key human genes has changed over millennia and the findings place “Turkana and sub-Saharan Africa at the forefront of genomic research, a field where Indigenous populations have historically been underrepresented”, according to Charles Miano, one of the study’s co-authors and a postgraduate student at the Kenya Medical Research Institute (Kemri).The research sequenced 367 whole genomes and analysed more than 7m genetic variants, identifying several regions of the genome under natural selection. It was conducted through the Turkana Health and Genomics Project (THGP), an initiative bringing together researchers from Kenya and the US, including Kemri, the Turkana Basin Institute (TBI), Vanderbilt University in Tennessee and the University of California, Berkeley.The genomic analysis found eight regions of DNA that had undergone natural selection but one gene, STC1, expressed in the kidneys, showed exceptionally strong evidence of humans adapting to extreme environments. Evidence included the body’s response to dehydration and processing purine-rich foods such as meat and blood, staples of the Turkana people’s diet.Turkana women give water to their goats from a shallow well. The region is characterised by extreme heat, water scarcity, and limited vegetation. Photograph: Monicah Mwangi/ReutersTurkana stretches across a large swathe of northern Kenya, one of the most arid regions in the world, where shade is scarce and water even more rare. Rainfall arrives in short, unpredictable bursts, and securing enough water for themselves and their herds of cattle, goats and camels is a daily chore. Fetching water can involve journeys of many hours each day across hot terrain devoid of vegetation.About 70% to 80% of the community’s diet comes from animal sources, mostly milk, blood and meat, reflecting resourcefulness and adaptation to scarcity, which is common among pastoralist societies around the world living in environments where crops cannot grow and where markets are too far away to be accessed on foot.Yet, after years of documenting the Turkana people’s lifestyle and studying blood and urine samples to assess their health, researchers found that, although the community consumes too much purine, which should lead to gout, the condition rarely appears among the Turkana.“About 90% of the people assessed were dehydrated but generally healthy,” said Prof Julien Ayroles, from the University of California, Berkeley, one of the project’s co-principal investigators. “The Turkana have maintained their traditional way of life for thousands of years, providing us with an extraordinary window into human adaptation.”Genetic adaptations are believed to have emerged about 5,000 years ago, coinciding with the aridification of northern Africa, the study suggesting that as the region became drier, natural selection favoured variants that enhanced survival under arid conditions.A Turkana woman carries the leg of a cow as she migrates with Turkana people to find water and grazing land for cattle. Photograph: Goran Tomašević/Reuters“This research demonstrates how our ancestors adapted to dramatic climate shifts through genetic evolution,” said Dr Epem Esekon, responsible for Turkana county’s health and sanitation sector.However, as more members of the Turkana community move to towns and cities, the same adaptations that once protected them may now increase risks of chronic lifestyle diseases, a phenomenon known as “evolutionary mismatch”. This occurs when adaptations shaped by one environment become liabilities in another, highlighting how rapid lifestyle changes interact with deep evolutionary history.When the researchers compared biomarkers and gene expression – the process by which information encoded in a gene is turned into a function – in the genomes of city-dwelling Turkana people with their kin still living in the villages, they found an imbalance of gene expression that may predispose them to chronic diseases such as hypertension or obesity, which are more common in urban settings where diets, water availability and activity patterns are radically different.“Understanding these adaptations will guide health programmes for the Turkana, especially as some shift from traditional pastoralism to city life,” said Miano.As the world faces rapid environmental change, the Turkana people’s story offers inspiration and practical insights. For generations, the researchers said, this community has developed and maintained sophisticated strategies for surviving in a challenging and variable environment, knowledge that becomes increasingly valuable as the climate crisis creates new survival challenges.The study has combined genetic findings with community insights on environment, lifestyle and health. Photograph: Luis Tato/AFP/Getty ImagesFor close to a decade, the project centred on co-production of knowledge, combining genomic science with ecological and anthropological expertise. The agenda emerged from dialogue with Turkana elders, scientists, chiefs and community members, conversations about health, diet and change, often in the evening around a campfire.“Working with the Turkana has been transformative for this study,” said Dr Sospeter Ngoci Njeru, a co-principal investigator and deputy director at Kemri’s Centre for Community Driven Research. “Their insights into their environment, lifestyle and health have been essential to connecting our genetic findings to real-world biology and survival strategies.”Dr Dino Martins, director of the TBI, says the deep ecological connection and the adaptation to one of the Earth’s hottest and most arid environments provides lessons for how climate continues to shape human biology and health. “The discovery adds another important piece of knowledge to our wider understanding of human evolution,” he said.Researchers say other pastoralist communities in similar environments in east Africa, including the Rendille, Samburu, Borana, Merille, Karamojong and Toposa, are likely to share this adaptation.The research team will create a podcast in the Turkana language to share the study’s findings and also plan to offer the community practical health considerations that arise from rapidly changing lifestyles.

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