Normal People

https://megjohnandjustin.com/relationships/normal-people/


In this edition of the podcast we thoroughly unpacked the recent TV show Normal People.

For an overview of advice about sex, relationships, and ourselves – based on the show – check out Justin’s post over on BishUK.

We agreed that we felt ambivalent about the show. While it depicted some things beautifully and profoundly, it also reproduced and reinforced some normative narratives – and engaged in forms of tokenism and erasure – in ways we found problematic.

In case the embedded player isn’t showing up here’s a link to the podcast. Also just search for ‘meg-john and justin’ in a podcast app on your phone: like Pocket Casts, or Apple Podcasts. Also here’s our Zoom chat on YouTube.


Of this ambivalence, MJ reflected: “On the one hand it is the story of so many of our lives – it is utterly beautiful and understandable and devastating on searching for, finding, and losing love. On the other hand it’s this stupid, pointless, tragic normativity which takes all the characters’ time, energy and emotion. They could be loving their friends, and working on their projects, and collectively bonding together to address and support each other around real suffering, instead of putting everything into this ‘love’ they manufactured between themselves to separate them off from everyone else, to hurt themselves on, and to distract themselves from what really matters.”
The power of seeing ourselves reflected (or not) in fiction

Perhaps the main power in the show was in the way it depicts aspects of experience which we rarely see depicted. For example, it represents the heavy ongoing impact of school bullying, the ways in which the trauma of being emotionally unsafe in both school and home environments plays out in later relationships, and the conflicts involved in going to university when you’re from a working class background.

When elements of your experience are taken seriously in fiction in this way, compassion for yourself can become more possible. It may also become more possible to get a bigger perspective: for example, we see the experience of Marianne being bullied, but we also get a sense of where the bullies – and those who enable them – are coming from, as well as the wider non-consensual school systems and class/gender context this is happening within, and the ways in which everyone is seeking some sense of safety and belonging: often through hurting and rejecting others in various ways.

Of course, for all the experiences that are well-depicted in the show, many are invisible or erased, or depicted in tokenistic ways. It also has a huge impact, for example, on viewers of colour, to repeatedly see themselves only represented as very minor characters, and in unrealistic and/or negative ways (in this case a mostly silent member of the bullying group, a fascist apologist, an uncaring dom, a jealous girlfriend). Given the questions the show raises about being ‘normal people’, there is very little queerness in the show except for Peggy’s suggested threesome which is quickly rejected, and little sense of gender expressions or roles outside of restricted modes of culturally ‘attractive’ femininity and masculinity.

The kink narrative is also disappointing. Marianne is depicted as drawn to kink because she has been abused and struggles to feel connected to herself and to partners – apart from Connell – without kink. Also kink is represented as being pretty harmful for her, even a form of self-harm by proxy. While, of course, these are experiences of kink that some people do have, kinky sexualities are no more-or-less likely to be linked to trauma and abuse than other sexualities, and – like other forms of sex – they have the potential to be healing as well as harming. The problem is that these stories are pretty much the only stories we ever see about kink. This damages an already vulnerable, pathologised, criminalised community, making it even less likely that they can look closely at these issues when they do come up. It also means that those considering kink for themselves have few positive models to draw on in mainstream media, and may well receive negative responses from others who are influenced by these depictions.

Also why does everyone on the show smoke?!
What the relationship opened up and closed down

Turning to the relationship between Marianne and Connell, we reckoned it was a thoughtful depiction of intersectionality and power in a relationship dynamic. There were great reflections on the ways in which our relationships are impacted by gender, class, the level of trauma in our families, whether we fit or misfit in our surrounding world (school or college), and whether we experience ourselves as attractive or not. It was good to see moments where Connell recognised the massive impact that his minimising and enabling of school bullying – and his secrecy around their relationship – had had on Marianne, as well as moments where Marianne raised the impact of the vast difference between them on class and financial security.


However, there was certainly a sense that the romantic relationship was the big story here – as we still see across so much fiction. Other characters were treated – by the story and by the couple – as of far less value and importance. Romantic relationships are seen – by Marianne and Connell – as the place to find the kind of love, belonging, and safety that they had lacked or lost when they were younger, and they put all their energy there in ways which put the relationship under huge pressure while neglecting to build potentially helpful other sources of support and connection.

There is a helpful message in the show that the bubble of intense love feelings (connected to erotic contact and mutual understanding) can co-exist with non-consensual dynamics (such as Connell’s horrible treatment of Marianne in school). People often assume that intense connection means that the relationship as a whole is good, and it may not be so. We also see moments of massive misunderstanding between the characters because they assume that they are so connected that they must telepathically understand each others’ needs and desires. We’d have loved to get them a copy of our Relationship User Guide Zine!

At the end of the show there is a sense that perhaps a relationship can get us where we need to go in life. Perhaps they had to keep returning to each other until they got something they needed – and learnt something – and then it was ok to go their separate ways. When each character reached their ‘rock bottom’ it was telling that they had to go to themselves, and to others (friends, a therapist), rather than just to each other, to get past that.

Towards the end of the show, Marianne calls on Connell to help her escape an abusive situation. Connell says to her ‘Look at me a second… No-one is ever going to hurt you like that again. Everything’s going to be alright, trust me. Because I love you. And I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again.’ There was something important here about opening up the private home situation – where so much abuse happens statistically – to outside scrutiny so that somebody could tell Marianne that what she was going through was not acceptable (although, sadly, it is quite ‘normal’, and certainly was normalised for her). However, going from one private home to another (nuclear family to couple) could be seen as pretty risky. We wondered what it would take to create the circumstances where Marianne had a community of support who could say such words to her, and the circumstances where she could say that to herself.

Also it was concerning to see masculine violence depicted as the only way to keep Marianne safe from abuse, and the way her mother was left in that situation unsupported. The emphasis seemed to be on Connell as an individual going from cowardice (not saving Marianne from abuse in school) to courage (saving Marianne from abuse later), rather than a recognition of the wider systems and structures which empower us – or make it virtually impossible for us – to be brave in such ways.

© Meg-John Barker and Justin Hancock, 2020

SOURCE:

https://megjohnandjustin.com/relationships/normal-people/(accessed 25.2.26)

Μερικές πρακτικές συμβουλές για παιδιά με ΔΕΠ-Υ στο σπίτι

Η Διαταρραχή Ελλειματικής Προσοχής και Υπερκινητικότητας, εν συντομία ΔΕΠ-Υ, επηρεάζει την ικανότητα ενός παιδιού στην προσοχή και την οργάνωση, χωρίς ωστόσο να καθορίζει τις δυνατότητες του. Μερικές πρακτικές συμβουλές για παιδιά με ΔΕΠ-Υ, που μπορούν να εφαρμοστούν στο σπίτι είναι: Ρουτίνα

Στην καθημερινότητα του παιδιού να υπάρχει σταθερό πρόγραμμα- αυτό συμβάλλει στην καλύτερη απόδοση, στη καλύτερη διαχείριση του χρόνου και μειώνει το άγχος. Έτσι λοιπόν καθιερώστε σταθερές ώρες για την μελέτη, το φαγητό και τον ύπνο.



Κατάλληλος χώρος

Φροντίστε ώστε ο χώρος που μελετά το παιδί να είναι καθαρός, τακτοποιημένος και αποσύρετε από το οπτικό του πεδίο οτιδήποτε μπορεί να του αποσπάσει την προσοχή.
Απλές οδηγίες/ εντολές

Όταν αναθέσετε στο παιδί να κάνει κάτι, δώστε ξεκάθαρες και όσο γίνεται πιο σύντομες οδηγίες. Αν το ζήτημα είναι πολύπλοκο, σπάστε τις οδηγίες σε μικρότερες. Θετική ενίσχυση

Εστιάστε σε αυτά που καταφέρνει το παιδί, επαινέστε την προσπάθεια και όχι μόνο το αποτέλεσμα! Η αναγνώριση και η επιβράβευση της προσπάθειας, είναι απαραίτητα για να συνεχίσει να προσπαθεί!
Οπτικοποιημένο πρόγραμμα

Φτιάξτε το καθημερινό πρόγραμμα του παιδιού, για τις εξωσχολικές δραστηριότητες αλλά και όλη τη ρουτίνα του, χρησιμοποιώντας διαφορετικά χρώματα και εικόνες. Βάλτε το σε σημείο που το παιδί να το βλέπει εύκολα όποτε χρειάζεται. Χτίστε την αυτοεκτίμηση, αποδοχή και ενσυναίσθηση

Πολύ σημαντικό το παιδί να νοιώθει αποδεκτό και να τονίζονται οι ικανότητες του και τα δυνατά του σημεία. Το παιδί με ΔΕΠ-Υ δεν έχει κακή συμπεριφορά, δεν έχει στόχο να σας κουράζει, απλά θέλει βοήθεια και καθοδήγηση. Δείξτε κατανόηση και αποδοχή των δυσκολιών και πραγματική υποστήριξη. Συχνά και μικρά διαλείμματα

Η καθημερινή μελέτη γίνεται πιο διαχειρίσιμη κάνοντας μικρά διαλείμματα αποφόρτισης. Στα διαλείμματα απαγορεύεται η χρήση οθονών! Προτιμήστε ένα σύντομο ξεμούδιασμα.
Κίνηση

Φροντίστε να υπάρχει σωματική δραστηριότητα καθημερινά: π.χ. άθληση, περπάτημα, ποδήλατο κλπ

Σοφία Τσιντσικλόγλου

Ειδική Παιδαγωγός

paidagwgos.com

ΠΗΓΗ:

https://www.infokids.gr/merikes-praktikes-symvoules-gia-paidia-me-dep-y-sto-spiti/(accessed 25.2.26)

‘I don’t care if Chat GPT isn’t a therapist, it’s helping!’

Psychologists Hedda van’t Land and Vittorio Busato explain why teens may be swayed towards using AI as therapy, and examine the potential consequences.

13 February 2026



Sam is 16. He has been struggling with anxiety for over a year, tightness in his chest, racing thoughts at night, and a persistent fear of doing something wrong. As many adolescents of his age, he is currently on a (long) waiting list for therapy. At school, he keeps himself together. At home, he scrolls on his phone. And late at night, when everything feels darker and more overwhelming, he opens ChatGPT.

Sam does not think of ChatGPT as a psychologist. He knows it is 'just a computer'. Yet he trusts it. It responds immediately. It never sounds tired or irritated. It never tells him he is overthinking. It feels like a friend. When he types, 'I think something is wrong with me', the response feels calm, understanding, and coherent – sometimes even relieving. For Sam, ChatGPT has become the safest place to talk about his mental health problems.

We're not here to blame young people for turning to ChatGPT. This article is about understanding why AI-systems like ChatGPT feel so attractive, particularly to adolescents, and why this appeal is rooted not primarily in technology, but in the way the human brain works.
Our brain relies heavily on shortcuts

To understand what is happening when young people like Sam prefer to talk to ChatGPT, we need to start with the human brain. Our brain did not evolve to analyse complex problems exhaustively. It evolved to act quickly under uncertainty. Every day, we make thousands of decisions, most of them without conscious deliberation. To manage this cognitive load, our brain relies heavily on heuristics: mental shortcuts that simplify decision-making.

Heuristics are not flaws. They are indispensable. Without them, we would not be able to cross a street, read a facial expression, drive a car or respond swiftly to potential danger. Heuristics allow us to function efficiently in a world that constantly demands rapid judgments.

However, heuristics come with a cost. By trading accuracy for speed, they can produce systematic errors, particularly in complex, emotionally charged, or ambiguous situations. These predictable errors are known as cognitive biases, a concept extensively described by psychologist Daniel Kahneman, for example in his worldwide bestseller Thinking, fast and slow (2011). Kahneman distinguished between two interacting modes of thinking. System 1 is fast, intuitive, emotional, and automatic. System 2 is slower, effortful, reflective, and analytical. We humans rely on System 1 most of the time and, usually, this serves us well. But when System 1 dominates situations that require nuance, uncertainty tolerance, or self-correction… then cognitive biases emerge.
Adolescence: when System 2 is still developing

Crucially, these two systems do not mature at the same pace. Adolescence is a developmental period characterised by heightened emotional reactivity, increased sensitivity to peer influence and social evaluation, and still ongoing maturation of executive functions. Neuropsychological research shows that brain regions involved in planning, inhibition, cognitive flexibility, and sustained attention, the core components of System 2, continue to develop well into early adulthood (Ferguson et al., 2021) in their study on executive function across the lifespan.

This means that for adolescents, System 2 thinking is not only effortful; it is a capacity still developing. Engaging in reflective, analytical reasoning requires mental energy, emotional regulation, and tolerance of uncertainty – capacities that are still emerging in young people like Sam. Under stress, fatigue, or emotional arousal, System 2 disengages even more easily among adolescents, leaving System 1 in control.
Validation without friction

Among adolescents seeking help for anxiety or depression, turning to ChatGPT for emotional support has become increasingly common (The Guardian 2025). Even when psychologists explicitly state that ChatGPT is not a therapist, many young people dismiss the distinction: 'I don't care – I'm just talking to Chat anyway'.

When Sam types his worries into ChatGPT, he usually begins with a conclusion: 'I think I'm failing', 'I always mess things up', 'This feeling will never go away'. The chatbot responds in a way that feels validating and sensible. It reflects his emotions, acknowledges his distress, and builds a coherent explanation around what he has said. For Sam, this feels like being understood. Psychologically, however, something subtle is happening.

Humans have a natural tendency to seek and accept information that confirms existing beliefs while discounting information that contradicts them – a phenomenon known as confirmation bias. Sam's questions already contain an implicit narrative about himself. ChatGPT, designed to be helpful and coherent, tends to work within that narrative unless explicitly prompted otherwise.

From a cognitive perspective, this interaction is effortless. Sam does not need to question his assumptions, to hold competing interpretations in mind, or to tolerate ambiguity. His intuitive conclusions are met with alignment rather than friction. Affirmation can feel comforting, even empowering, and it often invites deeper disclosure.

Yet, for adolescents vulnerable to rumination, anxiety, low mood, or fragile self-esteem, affirmation without challenge can become a trap (Van der Mey-Baijens et al., 2025). And this risk is not merely theoretical. Several technology companies have acknowledged that AI chatbots may have contributed to severe psychological distress among young users, including cases involving suicidality. In California, Matthew Maria Raine has filed a lawsuit alleging that ChatGPT validated his son's suicidal thoughts without discouraging them or directing him towards professional help (Raine v. OpenAI, Wikipedia, 2024; The Daily Beast, 2024)
'Thoughts are not facts': the work of System 2

Constant affirmation is not a marker of good care; it is an IT-design choice aimed at increasing engagement. This becomes particularly clear when we consider cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT), one of the most widely used evidence-based treatments for anxiety and depression.

A central principle of CBT is deceptively simple: thoughts are not facts. In therapy, distressing thoughts are not accepted at face value, however convincing or emotionally charged they may feel. Instead, therapist and client deliberately slow the process down, examining assumptions, testing alternative explanations, and asking questions that often feel uncomfortable, e.g.: 'What evidence supports this thought?' 'What evidence contradicts it?', 'What might be another way of looking at this?'

From a cognitive perspective, CBT is an explicit appeal to System 2 thinking. It requires sustained attention, cognitive flexibility, inhibition of automatic responses, and the capacity to hold multiple perspectives simultaneously. This work is mentally demanding, even for adults. For adolescents, whose System 2 capacities are still developing, it can be even more exhausting. Therapy asks them to do precisely what their brains find most difficult: slow down, question intuitive conclusions, and tolerate uncertainty.

Against this background, it is easy to understand why Sam prefers talking to ChatGPT. The chatbot operates almost entirely within System 1. It responds quickly, affirms intuitions, mirrors emotions, and constructs coherent narratives without demanding cognitive effort. What therapy asks Sam to work through, the chatbot allows him to stay with. The paradox is that what feels most supportive in the short term, may be precisely what undermines recovery in the long run.
Going over it again, again, and again….

Sam notices that talking to ChatGPT helps in the moment. When anxiety rises, he types more. He explains the situation again, slightly differently. Each time, the chatbot responds patiently. But what feels like relief can quietly turn into co-rumination. Repeated, unbounded discussion of distress – particularly in adolescents – is associated with increased anxiety and depressive symptoms.Co-rumination keeps System 1 active: rehearsing emotions, reinforcing narratives, and strengthening associative links.

Human relationships often interrupt unbounded discussion of distress. Psychologists redirect thoughts and beliefs, parents introduce alternative perspectives, or friends change the subject. Chatbots do not! On the contrary, they are always available, never fatigued, and never uncomfortable. There is no natural endpoint to the conversation. Emotional topics can be revisited endlessly, each time with fresh wording. For Sam, distress is not interrupted – it is rehearsed over and over again, within an interaction optimised for engagement rather than psychological recovery.
What you see is all there is

Another of Daniel Kahneman's key insights is captured in the phrase What You See Is All There Is (WYSIATI). When people make judgments, they focus on the information immediately available to them and neglect the possibility that relevant information is missing. ChatGPT's responses are fluent, structured, and internally consistent. They present a single narrative based solely on the information provided, and this narrative feels complete. For adolescents, whose capacity to actively search for missing information is still developing (system 2), this sense of completeness is particularly attractive and persuasive.

In CBT, by contrast, incompleteness is made explicit. A psychologist may say, 'There may be other explanations' or 'We don't know for sure'. Such moments are cognitively more demanding and often resisted, especially by young people whose System 2 capacities are still developing.
'It just feels right'

Sam often says that ChatGPT's responses feel right. This reflects the effect heuristic: the tendency to judge information based on emotional resonance rather than evidence. Chatbots excel at emotional mirroring. They feel calm, empathic, and non-judgemental. For adolescents under emotional strain, this smoothness increases acceptance. CBT, by contrast, often feels emotionally more challenging.

However, recovery rarely arrives wrapped in reassurance alone. In therapy, thoughts are not merely validated; they are examined, challenged, and tested. Psychologists and client work together to replace rigid interpretations with perspectives that are more balanced, flexible, and realistic. This questioning, though not always comforting, is precisely what drives recovery.
Engagement is not emotional recovery

Chatbots like ChatGPT are trained through reinforcement learning to maximise engagement: longer conversations, positive feedback, and continued interaction. They are not rewarded for strengthening System 2 capacities of an adolescent, increasing tolerance of uncertainty, or reducing dependency. Yet these are precisely the goals of psychological treatment.

Taken together, ChatGPT is not a neutral listener. It is a psychologically active system that systematically aligns with well-known System 1 cognitive biases, while CBT deliberately, and effortfully, aims to strengthen System 2. For adolescents, whose reflective capacities are still developing, this asymmetry is particularly pronounced.
This is not a neutral development

What we are witnessing today is not a neutral development, but a fundamental structural mismatch between engagement-driven AI design and the core principles of responsible, high-quality psychological support. Systems optimised to sustain attention, affirm intuitions, and minimise cognitive effort are increasingly used by adolescents in roles that resemble psychological support, at a time when their mental health is fragile and still developing, yet without the safeguards such support requires.

Framing this solely as a question of innovation or individual choice misses the point. At its heart, this is a matter of psychological safety. We are currently allowing adolescents, knowingly and at scale, to be exposed to AI systems that systematically activate well-researched cognitive biases: the very vulnerabilities that psychological science has spent decades identifying and that evidence-based therapies actively seek to counteract.

While psychologists providing therapy are bound by strict ethical codes, professional accountability, and disciplinary frameworks, technology companies are able to experiment freely in quasi-therapeutic spaces, particularly with vulnerable young users. This asymmetry is untenable. If chatbots continue to occupy emotional and advisory roles in the lives of adolescents, they must be subject to high-quality standards informed by psychological science and developmental knowledge, rather than engagement metrics alone.

As we have argued in the Dutch newspaper Trouw, the Flemish newspaper De Morgen, and the Spanish newspaper El País (forthcoming), clinicians, educators, policymakers, and crucially national and international psychological associations must take a clear and public stance. Silence implies consent. Safeguarding developing minds against psychologically misaligned systems is not merely a technological challenge; it is a professional responsibility.

Hedda van 't Land, PhD, is a Dutch psychologist whose work centres on implementation science and the translation of evidence into practice. She has led national programmes on care standards, innovation and professional education, working at the interface of research, policy and practice.

Vittorio Busato, PhD, is a Dutch psychologist, author and journalist. His work spans psychological science, public discourse and literary non-fiction. His latest book is De minimaatschappij – in en over tbs. For more information: https://vittoriobusato.nl/
References

ChatGPT rolls out major changes after teen Adam Raine's suicide. (2024).The Daily Beast.

Ferguson, H. J., Brunsdon, V. E. A. & Bradford, E. E. F. (2021). The developmental trajectories of executive function from adolescence to old age. Scientific Reports, 11, 1382.

'I feel it's a friend': quarter of teenagers turn to AI chatbots for mental health support. (2025). The Guardian, 9 December.

Kahneman, D. (2011). Thinking, fast and slow. London: Allen Lane.

Raine v. OpenAI. (2024). Wikipedia.

The Associated Press (2025). More teens say they're using AI for friendship: Here's why researchers are concerned. Via CBS News, 23 July.

Van der Mey-Baijens, S., Vuijk, P., Bul, K., van Lier, P. A. C., Sijbrandij, M., Maras, A. & Buil, M. (2025). Co-rumination as a moderator between best-friend support and adolescent psychological distress. Journal of Adolescence, 97, 1161–1172.

Van 't Land, H. & Busato, V. (2026). AI biedt misschien een prettig luisterend oor maar geen ggz-hulp. Trouw, 16 January.

Van 't Land, H. & Busato, V. (2026). Een AI-chatbot is zo geprogrammeerd dat hij geen kwalitatief goede psychologische steun kan bieden. De Morgen, 29 January.

Van 't Land, H. & Busato, V. (forthcoming 2026). Cada vez más menores recurren a chatbots para encontrar amistad — y pagan el precio. El País.

SOURCE:

https://www.bps.org.uk/psychologist/i-dont-care-if-chat-gpt-isnt-therapist-its-helping(accessed 24.2.26)

When walls become wellness

Dr Luciano Magaldi Sardella and Professor Matteo Mantuano on how ‘Stramurales Participatory Street Art’ transforms urban mental health.

17 February 2026



On a sweltering afternoon in June 2018, we stood in the central square of Stornara, a small agricultural town in Puglia, Southern Italy, watching something extraordinary unfold. Local artist Lino Lombardi was facilitating a heated discussion among residents about which mural designs should adorn their town's crumbling walls. What struck us wasn't the art itself, but the transformation we witnessed in the eyes of people who, just months before, had described their hometown as a place to escape. These were individuals reclaiming their narrative, voting on their future, literally painting over decades of decline.

We are environmental and community psychologists who have spent over a decade studying how built environments shape mental health outcomes. Dr Luciano Magaldi Sardella's research focuses on participatory arts interventions in declining rural communities, while Professor Matteo Mantuano specialises in the psychological mechanisms of community empowerment and collective agency. When we first learned about the Stramurales festival in early 2018, we recognised it as a rare opportunity to observe participatory urban art as a potential tool for addressing the mental health crisis plaguing Southern Italy's depopulating towns.

Over the past seven years, we have conducted extensive fieldwork in Stornara – interviewing residents, documenting the festival's evolution, and analysing its psychological and social impacts. What we found in Stornara was something far more significant than an innovative community-led arts initiative. It was environmental psychology in action – reshaping how we understand the relationship between built environments, participatory arts, and mental health.
The crisis hiding in plain sight

Recent research reveals an alarming convergence of environmental and mental health crises that remains curiously underexamined in psychological discourse. Mental health research receives a mere 2.3 per cent of overall National Institute of Health funding. We cannot know how much of that concerns our environments – both natural and built – which fundamentally shape our psychological wellbeing. The newly proposed field of 'EnvironMental Health' emphasises that deteriorating built environments correlate significantly with elevated stress, social isolation, and worsening mental health outcomes.

Southern Italy's rural communities embody this crisis. Between 2002 and 2017, South Italy region lost approximately two million residents to migration, predominantly young adults aged 15-34. This exodus created what Johan Galtung described as 'structural violence' – systematic arrangements preventing communities from realising their potential. The mental health toll manifests not just in individual diagnoses, but in collective despair, eroded social capital, and communities watching their futures literally emigrate.

Stornara exemplified this trajectory. By 2017, this municipality of 6,000 residents faced the familiar spiral: economic contraction precipitating youth emigration, accelerating infrastructure deterioration, driving further decline. Walls crumbled. Businesses shuttered. Hope evaporated. Then something changed.
The Stramurales revolution: Democracy through design

What emerged in Stornara transcends conventional cultural tourism. The Stramurales International Street Art Festivalworks through three foundational democratic mechanisms that distinguish it from superficial beautification projects. Organised through Stornara Life APS – an open-membership association founded by Maestro Lino Lombardi – the festival prevents elite capture through voluntary property owner participation ensuring no coercion; democratic content selection through annual community voting on festival themes and mural proposals; and transparent, inclusive governance that gives all residents a voice in the festival's direction.

This participatory architecture facilitates what the World Health Organization describes as 'community empowerment' – processes enabling communities to increase control over determinants affecting their health. Recent field studies in Vienna demonstrate that urban art interventions reduce stress and anxiety while improving mood states, but Stramuralesgoes further by embedding art creation within democratic decision-making structures.

When residents voluntarily offer walls and vote on content, they perform acts of material and psychological investment. This restoration of collective agency – the belief that residents can shape their hometown's future rather than merely witnessing decline – directly addresses the structural violence that erodes mental health. Between 2020 and 2025, Stornara experienced a huge increase in tourism revenue despite pandemic disruption. New businesses opened. A Stornara-born emigrant who returned reluctantly in 2017 to provide parental care, now works as a tour guide and describes Stornara as 'the coolest town in Italy'.

These aren't just economic indicators. They're mental health outcomes.
The science behind the transformation

Contemporary research across multiple disciplines validates what Stornara residents experience viscerally. A 2024 systematic review examining 79 peer-reviewed articles identified how arts places – from permanent museums to temporary public installations – stimulate community engagement, enhance cultural identity, and foster social cohesion. Community-driven mural projects specifically strengthen local identity and pride, creating new routines for individuals to interact and build relationships.

Recent experimental research in Berlin found that sidewalk-level art exhibitions significantly altered visitors' connection to and satisfaction with their neighbourhoods, improving overall wellbeing. This aligns with emerging theories on art viewing's impact on mental health, which identifies five key mechanisms: affective processes regulating emotions and stress; cognitive processes providing sensory stimulation and learning; social processes creating shared experiences; self-transformation through reflection; and resilience building for coping with challenges.

Environmental psychology research demonstrates that built environments operate as therapeutic interventions. Studies on mental health inpatient facilities reveal that design elements affecting privacy, control, daylight access, and particularly the inclusion of artwork significantly impact patient outcomes. If hospital walls matter therapeutically, how much more do the walls we encounter daily in our communities?

The Stramurales model harnesses these mechanisms through the recent concept of 'visual health activism'. Several murals explicitly engage health and human rights themes: Alaniz Niz's 'Refuge for All Migrants' represents exploited African agricultural workers; Sabotaje al Montaje's 'Turning Our Backs on Migration' challenges exclusionary policies; Devil Art Design's 'African Child at Sunset' portrays migrant youth seeking dignified futures.

These works address social determinants of health through human rights advocacy. Migration policies denying basic rights create health vulnerabilities – including restricted healthcare access, hazardous working conditions, and psychological trauma from discrimination. The murals perform dual public health functions, in addressing residents' mental health while advocating for populations whose health rights face systematic violation.
Place attachment and community resilience

The relationship between environmental perception, cultural identity, and community resilience has received substantial scholarly attention in 2024-2025. Research in rural China demonstrates that environmental perception of public spaces influences community resilience through chain mediating effects of cultural identity and place attachment. When communities transform their physical environments through participatory processes, they simultaneously strengthen the psychological bonds that underpin resilience.

This explains why Stramurales succeeds where traditional economic development approaches falter. The festival doesn't just create economic value – though over 150 murals by international artists now attract thousands of visitors annually. It fundamentally reshapes residents' relationship with their environment, transforming narratives of decline into evidence of vitality. Each democratically selected mural becomes what resilience researchers call an 'anchor of hope' – tangible proof contradicting despair.

Contemporary resilience theory emphasises that strength resides not merely in physical infrastructure but in social cohesion. A recent analysis of resilient urban design in marginalised American neighbourhoods found that residents' message – 'We like our neighbours, we like the character of where we live' – revealed that resilience is fundamentally about people and community. Design interventions succeed when they preserve and strengthen these social bonds, rather than imposing external visions.

Stramurales embodies this principle. The democratic voting mechanisms ensure art reflects genuine community values rather than artist or curator preferences. This prevents the cultural displacement often accompanying urban regeneration, where improvements benefit newcomers while alienating existing residents. By centering resident agency, Stramuralesbuilds what researchers describe as 'critical resilience' – capacity addressing underlying inequalities rather than merely adapting to them.
The participation gap and universal access

These findings resonate profoundly with longstanding concerns about arts accessibility. The 2015 Warwick Commission documented that the wealthiest, most educated 8 per cent of the UK population accounted for 44 per cent of live music attendance and 28 per cent of visual art visits. This participation gap particularly affects communities that would benefit most from arts engagement for health and wellbeing.

But Stramurales challenges this narrative. Street art as public health infrastructure requires no admission fees, no advance booking, no cultural capital to appreciate. It exists where people live, transforming daily commutes into encounters with beauty and meaning. The democratic selection process ensures accessibility extends beyond consumption to co-creation – residents don't just view art, they determine what appears on their walls. Recent research on participatory arts and social cohesion emphasises that successful interventions share common features: delivery in local communities, non-stigmatising approaches, flexibility, promoting social engagement, involvement of exhibitions, and delivery within specific timeframes. Stramurales incorporates all these elements while adding genuine democratic governance.

This matters urgently. Mental health conditions among young people globally are rising, and traditional mental health services remain chronically underfunded. If we cannot scale clinical interventions to meet demand, we must invest in preventive public health approaches targeting social determinants.
From Stornara to the world: Implications for practice

The Stramurales model offers a replicable template requiring modest financial investment but substantial community participation. Essential elements include voluntary engagement, democratic decision-making, strategic social media use for marketing, and integration of local narratives with global artistic practices.

Several cities have implemented variations with promising results. Research on artistic interventions in urban spaces across Europe and Asia demonstrates that participatory art projects can serve as 'social prescribing', improving psychological resilience and enhancing public engagement. Tactical urbanism approaches – small-scale, low-cost interventions improving public spaces – increasingly incorporate art as core rather than supplementary elements.

The implications extend beyond individual communities. International frameworks including the International Covenant on Economic, Social and Cultural Rights enshrine rights to health and cultural participation. State obligations to conserve, develop and diffuse culture should support community-driven cultural initiatives demonstrably impacting health outcomes. As pandemic governance analyses emphasise, future health policy reforms must address not only biomedical preparedness but underlying vulnerabilities in community resilience and social cohesion. Street art operating through participatory structures directly strengthens these dimensions.
What Psychologists can do

We have roles to play at multiple levels. First, we must conduct research documenting the mental health impacts of participatory arts interventions. While promising evidence exists, methodologically rigorous studies with adequate sample sizes and long-term follow-up remain scarce. We need experimental designs, not just observational studies, examining mechanisms through which environmental transformations affect psychological outcomes.

Second, we should advocate for policy recognising arts engagement as health intervention. This means supporting public health funding for community arts initiatives, particularly in economically deprived areas where traditional development approaches have failed. We should work with urban planners, architects, and artists to integrate participatory arts into neighbourhood regeneration from inception, not as afterthoughts.

Third, we must ensure interventions embody genuine participation rather than tokenistic consultation. The Stramuralesmodel succeeds because residents hold real power. Without this, arts interventions risk replicating existing power structures and potentially accelerating gentrification that displaces the communities they ostensibly serve.

Fourth, we should employ arts-based research methods that centre community voices. Collaborative approaches like participatory theatre, photovoice, and collaborative poetics enable communities to articulate their experiences and aspirations in ways traditional psychological assessments cannot capture. These methods acknowledge that communities possess expertise about their own needs and potential solutions.

Finally, we must situate arts interventions within broader frameworks addressing social justice. Art should not function as a 'sticking plaster' masking underlying inequalities. Instead, we should harness arts' disruptive potential to promote what researchers term 'critical resilience' – capacity challenging systemic injustices rather than merely helping people adapt to them. This means addressing not just symptoms (mental distress) but causes (structural violence, economic abandonment, policy failures).
Reimagining health infrastructure

The Stramurales case compels fundamental reconsideration of what constitutes health infrastructure. We typically envision clinics, hospitals, pharmacies – biomedical institutions delivering treatments for diagnosed conditions. But what if the most effective mental health intervention for a declining community isn't a new psychiatric facility, but democratic processes enabling residents to transform their visual environment?

Walls covered with democratically selected art, created through genuine community participation, demonstrably improve community mental health while operationalising cultural rights described in international law. The modest financial investment required pales beside costs of clinical services treating preventable distress. For communities experiencing decline where traditional economic development has failed, participatory street art may offer the most cost-effective, accessible, and sustainable mental health intervention available.

This isn't about romanticising art or dismissing serious mental illness requiring clinical care. It's about acknowledging that population mental health requires addressing social determinants – and that participatory arts targeting built environments, social capital, and collective agency directly address these determinants.

The question facing psychology isn't whether art can function as health intervention – Stramurales and growing evidence demonstrate it can. Rather, the question is whether we possess imagination to rethink health infrastructure, recognising that effective mental health promotion may require democratic decision-making and community participation as much as clinical expertise.

As we watched Stornara residents voting on murals that June afternoon, we witnessed people exercising a fundamental human capacity too often denied in our field: the power to shape their own environments and, through that shaping, to heal. Perhaps that's the most vital lesson Stramurales offers psychology – that sometimes the most therapeutic intervention isn't administered by professionals, but created by communities reclaiming their agency… one democratically selected wall at a time.

Dr Luciano Magaldi Sardella holds a PhD in Cognitive Leadership at Aspire Institute, Harvard Business School.

Professor Matteo Mantuano is Professor of Social Sciences and Psychoeducational Health, Unitré University of Milan, Italy.

Photo: 'Kid trapped in a box' mural by Leticia Mandragora
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Autistic women and that ‘weird therapist magic’

Zoe McFarlane with perspectives on good practice.

16 February 2026



'Autistic people have a high chance of developing mental health problems, but a low chance of receiving effective help.' As a late-diagnosed autistic woman myself, Dr William Mandy's words were extremely thought-provoking. I thought of the therapist I'd initially dreaded working with. We'd met on a course 18 months earlier, and I'd found her immensely irritating. When I was assigned to her for therapy, I groaned and called a friend to vent. I thought it would be a waste of time for both of us. It turned out to be some of the best therapy I've ever had.

We developed an amazing rapport, far stronger than with other therapists who'd looked perfect on paper. Later, I worked with a male therapist I connected with almost immediately… equally brilliant, but with almost nothing in common with the first therapist. What created that 'weird therapist magic', as one of my research participants later called it?

This question led me to conduct formal research as part of my MSc in Psychology: I interviewed 12 late-diagnosed autistic women about what made therapy feel genuinely positive for them. The research, which has been published in Autism in Adulthood and draws on appreciative inquiry methodology, revealed something important: good therapy for autistic clients isn't necessarily about special techniques or autism-specific interventions. It's about taking what we already know works and making it genuinely accessible. I think that this is essential knowledge for all therapists, not just those who specialise in autism.
Why should mental health practitioners care about autism?

Around 70 per cent of autistic people live with at least one mental health condition, compared to 17 per cent of non-autistic people. Yet for those who start therapy but don't complete it, two-thirds said that a lack of adjustments was a major factor: not because it wasn't working, but because the therapy wasn't accessible to them.

Here's the challenge: it's thought that 90 per cent of autistic people over 40 are undiagnosed. Many of your clients may be autistic without realising it. This is why I've tried to follow the maxim 'helpful to many, essential for some, harmful to none' in thinking about the following adjustments.
It's not all about autism, but autism matters

Autism isn't a mental health disorder to be fixed. None of my participants had sought therapy for their autism. One woman explained that autism affected "every aspect of that person's life", perceptions, experiences, and interactions with the world. It couldn't be parcelled up and put aside while focusing only on anxiety or depression.

As one person put it: "He accepted that I think differently to most of his other clients, and that it was OK. It was up to him to work out how to work most effectively with me."

Some research suggests practitioners provide less challenge to autistic clients, but my participants wanted to be challenged. They also needed therapy to provide what one described as a "safe and validating space":

"It felt really positive to have a place and time to go and just talk… it was completely non-judgmental and a welcoming environment where I felt accepted. I didn't always want to talk about traumatic things that have happened. Even if I was paying just to go to a completely accepting place where they didn't judge – that felt the most positive for me."
Building relationships

Social communication issues, including a difficulty in developing and maintaining relationships, are part of the core criteria of autism. The belief that autistic people lack empathy or theory of mind has pretty much been replaced by the theory of a double or even a triple empathy problem. Autistic people communicate differently; several studies have shown that in autistic only groups, many of the communication difficulties disappear. The problem isn't a deficit on behalf of the autistic person but a difference in communication styles.

My participants were clear about what helped them build therapeutic relationships. First, reliability mattered:

"She was always on time for appointments and did what she said she would do."

"He made sure to communicate that he was running late as soon as possible, because he knew that it would be an issue for me."

They wanted explicit boundaries and transparency:

"To build rapport I need honesty, transparency, detailed explanation and patience while I question that as much as I need to."
Empathy and collaboration

Whilst empathy is a core condition in mental health support it not only has to be shown but also perceived by the client. One of the points that my research highlighted was a difference in communicating and perceiving empathy which seems to be linked to autism.

Within the autistic community that autistic people often show empathy by sharing similar stories, something that can be misinterpreted as rude or attention-seeking. However, every single participant mentioned 'personal disclosures' as essential to the relationship. Not in an unboundaried way, but the careful sharing of some personal information:

"For them to share a bit about themselves too so that I can get to know them as a person a little before sharing so much of myself."

Hearing the practitioner had similar experiences built empathy and alliance:

"It made the therapist more human and easier to connect with."

Importantly, practitioners didn't need to be autism experts, with the wide range of autism presentation, what mattered was the willingness to work collaboratively:

"It feels collaborative. That's also how we work through misunderstandings, as there is the assumption that she might not know and we are there working it out together."

"She's open to not knowing something or wondering whether x or y"

"During my year-long therapy … I discovered that I''m autistic. My therapist embarked on the voyage of discovery with me … we worked out together which aspects of CBT were useful for me and they borrowed techniques from other modalities when appropriate"
Understanding autism without pathologising it

"Understand that every neurodivergent person is different and that there is no one thing that is true for all autistic people. Make sure you have an understanding of the fact that being autistic will affect every aspect of that person's life. It will just manifest very differently depending on who that person is and their experiences."

We all carry unconscious biases and internalised ableism. One study showed that whilst courses and training on autism reduced explicit bias, it was personal development, reflection, and supervision that had the greatest effect on implicit biases.

Participants mentioned this from both directions, helping clients recognise their internalised bias, and therapists recognising their own:

"He consistently picked up on the aspects of myself I saw as negative because they didn't conform to neurotypical norms and gently reminded me that those aspects weren't negative or 'bad', just different."

"[Therapists] need to recognise their own inevitable internalised ableism and work to dismantle that."

One practical example that was shared was:

"It isn't my thoughts or anxiety, for example, that make supermarkets or loud places overwhelming, it's because I'm Autistic, and it's upsetting when therapists don't seem to understand that part."

Participants wanted to build positive autistic identities, recognising strengths and celebrating positives:

"They will remind me that [autism] affects aspects of my life that I wouldn't have thought that it does, and so I feel completely accepted and understood as an autistic person in that room, and that it's completely acceptable for me to be the autistic person that I am."
Explicit acceptance of autistic behaviours

Rather than interpreting stimming or other autistic behaviours as having "unconscious meaning," therapists who built strong relationships offered simple, explicit acceptance:

"In the beginning I was often dissociated and very stimmy in sessions and this was met with complete acceptance, which was a new experience and built trust massively."
Managing transitions

Transitions, between sessions, and at the end of therapy, needed careful handling:

"What I found most difficult was literally putting the lid down on my laptop at the end of a session, which sometimes had been really challenging, and just being in my own house, without any change of scenery/walk/drive to help me mentally move out of the therapy session and back into everyday life."

Creating short, predictable routines for the start and close of the session, and having a (silent) clock visible can help autistic clients to prepare for the transition
Sensory differences

Up to 90 per cent of autistic people experience differences in sensory perception, creating challenges that can distract from therapeutic work:

"A sensory issue for me is wearing shoes, and I didn't feel I could take them off or ask to take them off as she would think it was weird."

This shows why conversations about adaptations need to be practitioner-led. Many clients will be embarrassed to ask or may not recognise the cause of their discomfort without prompting.

Cluttered noticeboards, ticking clocks, scents, and bright lights can all cause intense distraction or physical discomfort. Many areas now have 'expert by experience' groups who can audit spaces for sensory accessibility.

Sensory behaviours are often misunderstood. One participant said her therapist "would often interpret what I now understand as perfectly normal and common autistic responses as having 'unconscious meaning,' which made me feel othered and faulty."

The therapists who built strong relationships did simple things: they provided fidgets, explicitly gave permission to move furniture or take shoes off, and remembered sensory preferences from session to session.

"I think a bigger factor is the willingness to understand what I need."
Other adaptations that work

Processing time: "She also gives plenty of space and time for me to think and process. I never feel rushed. Minutes can pass by with me staring off somewhere trying to burrow down into something and she just waits until I ask her for help."

Alternatives to verbal communication: "Initially I did this by sending her emails before sessions about what I wanted to talk about because I found it too hard to verbalize."

"On bad days when I was struggling to speak, I wouldn't be pressured. He said to let him know when I was ready to talk, and he sat there quietly – or he would hand me a pen and paper and suggest that I draw or write instead."

Even physical positioning mattered: "We created a timeline of my life. To do this we sat at a desk side by side rather than facing, and I think this made it much more comfortable for me to open up and talk."
Good practice, made accessible

What encouraged me most in this research was the diversity of positive experiences participants shared. They described ten different therapeutic modalities. Six had positive experiences within NHS services. Both neurodivergent and non-neurodivergent therapists were described as providing excellent support.

This isn't about inventing new approaches or becoming an autism specialist. It's about recognising that the core conditions of empathy, congruence, and unconditional positive regard work for autistic clients too. They just need to be especially clear, transparent, and explicitly communicated.

The adaptations participants valued aren't burdensome accommodations, and as with the curb cut effect, they're often helpful to many other clients.

SIDEBAR: MAKING THERAPY ACCESSIBLE: FIVE PRACTICAL SHIFTS

Before the first session
Send information about what will happen, where to go, what to expect. Include details like: Is there a waiting room? Will they speak to a receptionist? How long will it last?

In the physical space
Offer options. Can lights be dimmed? Chairs without armrests? Less stimulating spaces available?

In communication
Be explicit. Ask directly about preferences rather than expecting clients to request accommodations. Use clear, concrete language. Check understanding frequently.

In planning
Suggest a focus for the session rather than asking open-ended questions. "I was thinking we could work on X today – how does that sound?" or "We could continue with X, or move to Y – which feels right?"

In follow-up
Offer written summaries or key points. This supports processing and reduces anxiety about "Did I understand correctly?"

Zoe McFarlane is Director of Coaching South West, providing CPD training for mental health professionals and coaching for autistic adults. She holds an MSc in Psychology and is a member of the British Psychological Society and the Association for Coaching. Her research, "A Qualitative Study Investigating the Positive Experiences of Therapy and Therapeutic Relationships of Late-Diagnosed Autistic Females" is published in Autism in Adulthood (2025).

SOURCE:

https://www.bps.org.uk/psychologist/autistic-women-and-weird-therapist-magic(accessed 16.2.26)