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For Facebook, the study reported an estimated improvement of 0.060 standard deviations in the emotional state index among users in the deactivation group compared to the control group. This represents a statistically significant enhancement (p < 0.001), indicating that users who deactivated Facebook experienced measurable improvements in overall well-being based on the composite measure of how often they felt happy, less depressed, and less anxious. In contrast, Instagram deactivation led to a 0.041 standard deviation improvement in the emotional state index relative to the control group. This effect was statistically significant at the p = 0.016 level when considered in isolation; however, after adjusting for multiple hypothesis tests (with the full set of political outcomes also being considered), the result did not meet the pre-registered significance threshold (q-value = 0.139). Thus, while both platforms showed improvements, the effect was stronger and more robust for Facebook.^[1]

The study also examined the three individual components of emotional state. In the Facebook experiment, deactivation improved self-reported happiness by 0.064 standard deviations, reduced the negative feeling of depression (re-signed as depressed × (−1)) by 0.039 standard deviations, and reduced anxiety (re-signed as anxious × (−1)) by 0.028 standard deviations. The Instagram experiment, while similarly oriented, produced smaller point estimates with improvements of 0.044, 0.026, and 0.024 standard deviations respectively for happiness, depression, and anxiety. These findings indicate that the magnitude of the beneficial effects is consistently higher for Facebook deactivation across all measured emotional states.^[1]

The analysis further highlighted interesting subgroup differences between the two platforms. For Facebook, the results suggested that the beneficial effects on emotional state were primarily driven by users over the age of 35. In contrast, the effects observed for Instagram deactivation were most pronounced among young women under the age of 25, with an estimated improvement of 0.111 standard deviations for this subgroup. Other subgroup comparisons (including those based on baseline usage, baseline emotional state, and baseline political engagement) did not reveal significant differences, indicating that the overall improvements were uniformly distributed outside of the noted age and gender interactions. This suggests that while both platforms exert a positive influence when deactivated, the characteristics of the affected population differ between Facebook and Instagram.^[1]

The study provided several benchmarks that help contextualize the size of the improvements. The effects of Facebook deactivation, for instance, were equivalent to moving a median user from the 50th percentile to the 52.4th percentile in the distribution of the emotional state index, while Instagram’s effect moved users to the 51.6th percentile. Moreover, when translated back into the original survey response units, Facebook deactivation shifted responses by values equivalent to about 3.8 percent of people indicating higher frequencies of feeling happy. In comparative terms, the emotional state improvements from deactivation were roughly 15 to 22 percent as large as those reported by an average psychological intervention, such as those cited in the psychological interventions meta-analysis. This comparison suggests that the magnitude of the improvements, while positive, is modest relative to standard psychological treatments.^[1]

In summary, the study reveals that deactivating social media accounts in the weeks leading up to an election can have a positive impact on users’ emotional state. Facebook deactivation produced a larger and more statistically robust improvement (0.060 standard deviations) compared to Instagram deactivation (0.041 standard deviations), which became non-significant after multiple testing adjustments. Furthermore, subgroup analyses indicate that the benefits for Facebook are more pronounced among older users, whereas Instagram deactivation appears to benefit young women more significantly. Overall, these findings contribute to the ongoing debate concerning the psychological impacts of social media and offer evidence that targeted periods of deactivation may lead to modest improvements in emotional well-being.^[1]

Rocks are, by definition, non-living. As explained in one source, a rock is a solid mass of geological materials that does not move, grow, or reproduce. The text points out that even though rocks can host living matter, they themselves do not have cells or metabolic processes. Specifically, the explanation clarifies that even though a rock can contain bacteria or other forms of life, the rock is not alive because it lacks the freedom to move, process energy, or reproduce on its own^[4]. This perspective draws a clear distinction between the inert nature of the rock and the dynamic life forms that might be found within or on its surface.

Recent scientific studies have demonstrated that microorganisms have been discovered living deep within ancient rocks. In an extraordinary discovery, researchers identified microbial cells residing in minuscule fractures of a 2-billion-year-old volcanic rock from South Africa^[1]. The study involved staining the microbial DNA and imaging the cells using advanced microscopy techniques. The researchers confirmed that these cells were indigenous to the rock sample, as they compared them with potential contaminants. One key observation was the intact cell walls of these microbes—a clear indication of life, even after billions of years. A similar study described in another source highlighted that these microbes had been living in isolation for far longer than any previously known subterranean microbial community, a fact that broke records previously held by 100-million-year-old seafloor sediments^[2].

The concept of life within rocks is frequently linked to the study of endoliths—organisms that live inside rock substrates or within mineral grain boundaries. Endoliths are found in various environments ranging from surface rocks to deep terrestrial and ocean crusts^[3]. These organisms often include members of the Bacteria, Archaea, and Fungi kingdoms and can exist under extreme conditions, such as in total darkness and with limited access to nutrients. The presence of these endolithic communities has not only expanded our understanding of the resilience and adaptability of life on Earth, but it also underscores the potential for similar life forms to exist on other planets, where surface conditions may be harsh but subsurface environments could offer viable habitats.

The discoveries of living microbes inside ancient rocks have significant implications for both geology and the search for extraterrestrial life. While rocks themselves are clearly non-living, as detailed in the explanation from Yes Dirt^[4], the fact that living organisms can thrive within them offers a unique perspective on the preservation of life over geological timescales. For example, the discoveries in the Bushveld Igneous Complex not only provide clues about the early evolution of life on Earth but also suggest that similar rock formations on Mars might harbor living microorganisms^[1][2]. This connection between deep Earth biology and astrobiology has led researchers to consider the deep subsurface as an important area for ongoing exploration and study.

In summary, while rocks are inherently non-living entities that do not possess growth, metabolism, or reproduction, they can nonetheless serve as hosts to life. The existence of resilient microbial communities within ancient rock formations demonstrates the remarkable capacity of life to colonize and persist in even the most inhospitable environments. This duality—that rocks are non-living yet capable of nurturing living organisms—is central to our understanding of both geological processes and biological evolution. The findings serve as a poignant reminder that life finds a way, even in the seemingly inert corners of our planet^[1][2][3][4].

As time progressed, elements of ceremony and formality began to infiltrate the dueling practice^[1]. This is exemplified by instances where combatants sought permission from higher authorities, such as kings or lords, to stage a duel^[1]. Challenges were formally delivered, and seconds were employed to ensure fair play—or at least, adherence to a certain code^[1]. The story of the Baron des Guerres and the Lord de Fendilles illustrates this transition, where they 'applied to King Henry to appoint them a place for combat'^[1]. This seeking of approval and adherence to set procedures marks a shift from the raw, unregulated combat of previous eras.

The Renaissance brought with it a renewed interest in classical ideals, which subtly influenced the perception of dueling^[1]. There was now some emphasis on generosity and behaving respectfully toward the opponent, but also an increased use of quasi-religious reflection^[1]. However, this was often superficial, as 'the quasi-religious reflections which he has ready for all suitable occasions are mainly ornamental'^[1]. While figures like Bayard were held up as paragons of chivalry, there was also a pervasive acceptance of 'artful and cold-blooded assassination thinly disguised by a few artificial formalities'^[1]. This duality reflects the complex moral landscape of the time, where outward piety often masked ruthless behavior.

The evolving etiquette placed greater significance on the roles of seconds and umpires^[1]. These individuals were responsible for ensuring that the duel was conducted fairly and according to established rules^[1]. They examined weapons, ensured combatants adhered to the agreed-upon conditions, and even intervened to prevent excessive brutality^[1]. 'The seconds were then examined by the seconds to see if they had any arms or charms concealed under their clothes or on their persons'^[1]. However, even with these precautions, disputes often arose, requiring the umpire to make difficult judgments, as seen in the contested duel between De Guerres and Fendilles^[1].

Despite the increasing formalization, the concept of 'fair play' remained fluid and often self-serving^[1]. While some duelists, like the aforementioned Azevedo, demonstrated unusual generosity, others sought to exploit any advantage, however dishonorable^[1]. Brantome notes that 'there were punctilious people who raised considerable dispute about that. For example, it might be said that if, either through ignorance, forgetfulness, or any reason, you left your enemy’s arms on the field, you had no right to send and demand them afterwards'^[1]. This suggests a growing tension between the ideals of chivalry and the pragmatic pursuit of victory.

Brantome illustrates that Spanish bravado and artificial wit had influence^[1]. The book mentions violent and deadly incidents, with Caravajal the Cruel having killed 'a hundred men with his own hands in one battle'^[1]. It also raises questions about the means employed in duels, as it was said 'that he (M. Vitaux) killed his men unfairly'^[1]. This reflects on the relaxed moral code that allowed the end to justify the means.

By the late sixteenth century, the romanticized notions of chivalry were increasingly at odds with the realities of dueling^[1]. While figures like Bayard were still admired, the era was marked by treachery and a decline in genuine piety^[1]. As Brantome notes, 'the spirit of chivalry, of the piety animating men like Bayard, had practically died out of society before the death of Brantome'^[1]. This shift is evident in the increasing acceptance of deceit and cunning in duels, blurring the lines between honorable combat and outright assassination.

Throughout the sixteenth century, the duel remained a paradoxical institution, caught between the decaying ideals of chivalry and the brutal realities of a society steeped in violence^[1]. While efforts were made to regulate and civilize the practice, it often served as a stage for personal vendettas, political maneuvering, and displays of ruthless ambition^[1]. Brantome’s work offers a glimpse into this complex world, where honor and violence were inextricably intertwined, and where the line between a gentleman and a cold-blooded killer was often perilously thin^[1].