Expertise

The attitude of many laypeople toward medical science can be summed up as "all you have to do is."

Never mind those silly experts, who actually went to medical school and all.  All you have to do is (choose one or more):

• take vitamins (two favorites are C and D)
• spend more time outdoors
• get more exercise
• get more exposure to sunshine
• drink more water
• stop eating meat
• eat more probiotics
• eat more protein
• eat less protein
• eat less processed food
• eat less sugar
• eat less salt
• eat less, period

Now, mind you, I'm not saying these are bad ideas, with the exception of eating both more and less protein, which are hard to do at the same time.  Most of us could use more exercise and eating less sugar and salt, for example.  It's just that the "all you have to do is" attitude tries to boil down all medical conditions to some easily understandable, easily treated set of causes, and avoids the scary truth that human health is complicated.

Sometimes so complicated that even the experts are stumped.

One of the weirdest examples of that latter phenomenon is a ten-year-long epidemic that happened in the early twentieth century, which directly caused at least a half a million deaths worldwide, and that even so most people haven't heard of.  It's called encephalitis lethargica, but that's really only a description of its symptoms; encephalitis means "brain swelling," and lethargica -- well, that one's obvious.  The first cases in the epidemic (although as you'll see, perhaps not the first cases ever) happened in 1915, and just about all of the patients experienced the same, very odd progression of symptoms:

• first, sore throat, headache, and lethargy
• double vision and an uncontrollable upward motion of the eyes ("oculogyric crisis") 
• upper body weakness, spasms, and neck rigidity
• "sleep inversion" -- the drive to sleep during the day and be awake at night
• temper tantrums, psychosis, and hypersexuality
• "klazomania" -- compulsive screaming
• catatonia

The most commonly effected were males between the ages of five and eighteen, but people of all genders and ages could (and did) get the disease.  The mortality rate was high -- about half of the known victims died within a year of onset -- and of the ones who survived, a great many had neurological problems for the rest of their lives, with many of them exhibiting emotional disturbances and/or Parkinsonism.

The disease is sometimes called Economo's disease, after Austrian neurologist Constantin von Economo,  who along with French pathologist Jean-René Cruchet wrote several papers describing the pathology, symptoms, and treatments (the latter, mostly unsuccessful) for it.

Medical journal photographs from 1920, showing Constantin von Economo (upper left) along with four patients suffering from encephalitis lethargica [Image is in the Public Domain]

To cut to the punch line: we still have no idea what caused it.

Initially, it was thought to have something to do with the Spanish flu, which happened around the same time -- possibly an autoimmune reaction triggered by the flu virus -- but that hypothesis was ruled out because there seems to be no correlation between the disease and previous flu exposure.  Also, the Spanish flu pandemic ended in 1919, while the epidemic of encephalitis lethargica went on until 1926.  (This by itself doesn't eliminate a connection; odd immune reactions occurring long after exposure are relatively common, such as shingles turning up years after contracting, and recovering from, chicken pox.)  The brilliant writer Oliver Sacks, in his book Awakenings, stated that the most likely culprit was an enterovirus, a group that contains the causative pathogen of another multi-symptom disease -- polio -- as well as the Coxsackie viruses, thought to play a role in such autoimmune diseases as type 1 diabetes, myalgic encephalomyelitis, and Sjögren's syndrome.  This contention, however, is still considered speculative at best.

While the 1915-1926 outbreak was the most serious, medical historians have identified other epidemics that may be encephalitis lethargica in Europe -- 1580, 1674, 1712, and 1890.  Because there's no certainty of the cause of the 1915 outbreak, it's hard to be sure these are the same disease, but from the symptoms they sound similar.

The reason I bring all this up today is more than just a chance to talk about a biological oddity.  It's to point out that human physiology, and all the things that can go wrong with it, are complex topics.  Emergent diseases like encephalitis lethargica are scary precisely because they strike suddenly and hard, then can vanish before we have much of a chance to study them (and potentially prevent subsequent outbreaks).

And -- the crucial point -- when they do, we need the best-trained minds in medical science to have every tool at their disposal.

Which, in the United States, we don't.  At the moment, the head of the Department of Health and Human Services is a loony anti-vaxxer who is still trying to connect vaccines to autism despite massive study after massive study showing there's no correlation, much less a causation.  His latest salvo was touting putting cane sugar back into Coke as a major victory in "Making America Healthy Again," despite the fact that it's hard for me to see how anything involving drinking Coke would foster better health.  There's a real concern that because of his policies we may have significant shortages of the flu and COVID-19 vaccines this fall, raising the specter of unchecked epidemics.  Research into cancer treatment -- including an mRNA vaccine that shows great promise in treating deadly pancreatic cancer -- have had their funding pulled.

Oh, but according to RFK Jr., that's not a problem.  "All you have to do" to remain healthy is spend more time outdoors and take vitamins.

This is the man in charge of our health policy today.

Look, I know all too well that there were serious problems with the American medical system even before RFK was appointed.  Overpresciption of antibiotics, opioids, antidepressants, and anxiolytics.  Necessary medical procedures being denied by avaricious insurance companies.  Getting the runaround from GP to specialist and back again, with the result that treatment can be delayed weeks to months.  My wife's a registered nurse; don't think I'm unaware of the issues.

But.  If I were to develop a serious medical condition, I'd still want trained experts working on it.  Why on earth would I not?  How does it make sense to doubt medical expertise, when we trust expertise of just about every other sort?  No one gets on an airplane and says, "To hell with training, I'm okay if the plane is piloted by a plumber who has never flown before."  When your house's wiring needs work, you don't say, "I'm fine hiring an accountant to do the job.  He'll do just as well as an actual electrician."  People of all professions work long and hard to acquire their skills and knowledge, and by and large, we trust that they know what they're doing within their given fields.

So why have we been told that medical researchers are somehow the only ones who are lying to us?  And why do so many believe it?

I wish I knew the answer to that.  Maybe it's just because with something as complex and potentially scary as our health, we tend to flail around for something, anything, to make it simpler and more reassuring.  And it's a sad truth of life that sometimes the answers evade even the experts.  The outbreak of encephalitis lethargica is just one of many examples.  But when the next mystery disease strikes -- or even some of the familiar ones -- we want the best shot we have to respond quickly and effectively.

And for that, we need trained doctors and researchers, not anti-science ideologues.

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Who benefits?

One of the most curious features of evolutionary biology is the cui bono principle.

Cui bono? is Latin for "who benefits?" and is an idea that found its first expression in courts of law.  If a crime is committed, look for who benefitted from it.  In evolutionary biology, it's adjuring the researcher to look for an evolutionary explanation for seemingly odd, even self-harming behavior.  Somebody, the principle claims, must benefit from it.

A while back, I did a post on one of the strangest and most complex examples of cui bono; the pathogen Toxoplasma gondii, a protist that primarily infects humans, cats, rats, and mice.  In each, it triggers changes in behavior, but different ones.  It turns rats and mice fearless, and in fact, makes them attracted to the smell of cat urine.  Infected cats are more gregarious and needing of physical contact (either with other cats or with humans).  Humans are more likely to be neurotic and anxious, impelling them to seek comfort from others... including, of course, their pets.  Each of these behaviors increases the likelihood of the pathogen jumping to another host.

That this behavioral engineering is successful can be gauged by the fact that by some estimates three billion people are Toxoplasma-positive.  Yes, that's "billion" with a "b."  As in, one third of the human population.  I can pretty much guarantee that if you've ever owned a cat, you are Toxoplasma-positive.

What effects that has had on the collective behavior of humanity, I'll leave you to ponder.

I just ran into another cool example of cui bono a couple of days ago -- well, cool if you're not a tomato grower.  This is another one for which the answer to "who benefits?" turns out to be a pathogen, this time a virus called tomato yellow leaf curl virus, which has the obvious effect on infected plants.

Uninfected (top) and infected (bottom) tomato plants [Image credit: Zhe Yan et al., MDPI]

The researchers, led by Peng Liang of the Chinese Academy of Agricultural Sciences, noticed a strange pattern; there's a pest of tomato plants (and many other crops) called the silverwing whitefly (Bemisia tabaci) that shows a distinct preference for tomato plants depending on who is infected with what.  If the whitefly is uninfected with the virus, it's preferentially attracted to infected tomato plants; if the whitefly is already infected, it shows a preference for uninfected plants.

So cui bono?  The virus, of course.  Infected whiteflies pass the virus along to uninfected plants, and uninfected whiteflies pick the virus up from infected plants.  Clever.  Insidious, but damn clever.

Liang et al. found that the virus accomplishes this by meddling with a chemical signal from tomato plants called β-myrcene.  The virus actually up-regulates the β-myrcene gene -- essentially, turning the volume up to eleven on β-myrcene's production -- which attracts uninfected whiteflies.  Once the virus gets into the whiteflies, it dials down the sensitivity of the whiteflies' β-myrcene receptors, making them less attracted to it.  

No need to be lured in by the infected plants if you're already infected yourself.

So like with Toxoplasma, we have here a microscopic pathogen that is manipulating the behavior of more than one host species.  It's fascinating but creepy.  You have to wonder what other features of our behavior are being steered by pathogens we might not even be aware of.  Recent studies have found that between five and eight percent of our DNA is composed of endogenous retroviruses -- scraps of DNA left behind by viruses in the genomes of our forebears, and which are suspected to have a role in multiple sclerosis and some forms of schizophrenia.

Who knows what else they might be doing?

If you find this whole topic a little shudder-inducing, you're not alone.  Science is like that sometimes.  If there's one thing I've learned, it's that the universe is under no compulsion to make me feel comfortable.  If you agree, sorry I put you through reading this.  Go cuddle with your kitty.

I'm sure that'll make you feel better.

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The reanimators

An announcement a few weeks ago by microbiologist Jean-Michel Claverie of Aix-Marseille University that he and his team had successfully resuscitated a 48,500-year-old virus from the Siberian permafrost brought horrified comments like, "I read this book, and it didn't end well" and "wasn't this an episode of The X Files?  And didn't just about everyone die?"  It didn't help when Claverie's team mentioned that the particular virus they brought back to life belonged to a group called (I shit you not) "pandoraviruses," and the media started referring to them by the nickname "zombie viruses."

Claverie's pandoravirus [Image courtesy of Chantal Abergel and Jean-Michel Claverie]

The team hastened to reassure everyone that the virus they found is a parasite on amoebas, and poses no threat to humans.  This did little to calm everyone down, because (1) not that many laypeople understand viral host specificity, and (2) shows like The Last of Us, in which a parasitic fungus in insects jumps to human hosts and pretty much wipes out humanity, have a fuckload more resonance in people's minds than some dry scientific paper.

What's scary about Claverie's study, though, isn't what you might think.  First, the good news.  Not only is the virus they found harmless to humans, the team is made up of trained microbiologists who are working under highly controlled sterile conditions.  Despite what the "lab leak" proponents of the origins of COVID-19 would have you believe, the likelihood of an accidental release of a pathogen from a lab is extremely unlikely.  (The overwhelming consensus of scientists is that COVID is zoonotic in origin, and didn't come from a lab leak, accidental or deliberate.)  So the obvious "oh my god what are we doing?" reaction, stemming from a sense that we shouldn't "wake up" a frozen virus because it could get out and wreak havoc, is pretty well unfounded.

What worries me is the reason Claverie and his team are doing the research in the first place.

Permafrost covers almost a quarter of the land mass of the Northern Hemisphere.  A 2021 study found that every gram of Arctic permafrost soil contains between a hundred and a thousand different kinds of microbes, some of which -- like Claverie's pandoravirus -- have been frozen for millennia.  A three-degree Celsius increase in global average temperature could melt over thirty percent of the upper layers of Arctic soil.

So potentially, what Claverie's team did under controlled, isolated conditions could happen out in the open with nothing to keep it in check.

Concern over this isn't just hype.  In 2016, melting permafrost in Siberia thawed out the carcass of a reindeer that had died of anthrax.  Once thawed, the spores were still viable, and by the time the incident had been contained, dozens of people had been hospitalized, one had died, and over two thousand reindeer had been infected.  Anthrax isn't some prehistoric microbe that scientists know nothing about, which actually acted in our favor; once it was identified, doctors knew how to treat it and prevent its further spread.

But what if the thawing frost released something we haven't had exposure to for tens of thousands of years, and that was unknown to science?

"We really don’t know what’s buried up there," said Birgitta Evengård, a microbiologist at Umeå University in Sweden, which in a few words says something that is absolutely terrifying.

So the hysteria over Claverie's reawakening of the "zombie virus" focused on the wrong thing.  The reanimators we should be worried about aren't Claverie and his team; they're us.  There were already a myriad excellent reasons to curb fossil fuel use (hard) and try to rein in climate change, but this study just gave us another one.

As always, the problem isn't the scientists; the scientists are the ones trying to figure all this out in time to prevent a catastrophe.  (And, if I haven't made this point stridently enough already, the scientists have been trying to warn us about the effects of climate change for decades.)  The problem is the fact that politicians, and the voters who elect them, have steadfastly refused to do a damn thing about a problem that we could have addressed years ago and that has so many potential horrible outcomes you'd think any one of them would be sufficient justification for acting.  

So how about we stop worrying about the wrong thing and face the fact that we're the ones who need to change what we're doing?

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The memory virus

It's virus season, which thus far I've been able to avoid participating in, but every time I go to the grocery store I see people who are hacking and snorting and coughing and I figure it's only a matter of time, despite my insistence on wearing a mask in public.  Viruses are odd beasts; they're obligate intracellular parasites, doing their evil work by hijacking your cellular machinery and using it to make more viruses.  Furthermore, they lack virtually all of the structures that cells have, including cell membranes, cytoplasm, and organelles.  They really are more like self-replicating chemicals than they are like living things.

Simian Polyoma Virus 40  [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Phoebus87 at English Wikipedia, Symian virus, CC BY-SA 3.0]

What is even stranger about viruses is that while some of the more familiar ones -- colds, flu, COVID, measles -- invade the host, make him/her sick, and eventually (with luck) are cleared from the body -- some of them leave behind remnants that can make their presence known later.  This behavior is what makes the herpes family of viruses so insidious.  If you've been infected once, you are infected for life, and the latent viral genetic material hidden in your cells can cause another eruption of symptoms, sometimes decades later (as I found out the hard way when I got shingles a couple of years ago).

Even weirder is when those latent viral remnants cause havoc in a completely different way than the original infection did.  There's a piece of a virus left in the DNA of many of us called HERV-W (human endogenous retrovirus W) which, if activated, can trigger multiple sclerosis or schizophrenia.  Another one, Coxsackie virus, has an apparent connection to type-1 diabetes and Sjögren's syndrome.  Thus far, all of the viral infections, whether or not they're latent, are damaging to the host.  So it was quite a shock to me to read a piece of recent research that there's a viral remnant that not only is beneficial, but is critical for intercellular communication -- and individuals without it have trouble forming long-term memories!

In two separate papers published in the journal Cell -- "The Neuronal Gene Arc Encodes a Repurposed Retrotransposon Gag Protein that Mediates Intercellular RNA Transfer" and "Retrovirus-like Gag Protein Arc1 Binds RNA and Traffics Across Synaptic Boutons," each by a large team of neurobiologists and geneticists -- we learn about the proteins Arc and Gag, which were put into our cells by retroviruses (probably) hundreds of millions of years ago, and which generate virus-like particles that transfer from one brain cell to another.  This process seems to mediate memory formation, as mice that have the Arc/Gag gene knocked out are unable to retain long-term memories -- and may even be unable to form them in the first place.

As Sara Reardon explained it, writing in Nature:

Shepherd and Budnik [lead researchers in the two studies] think that the vesicles containing Arc play a part in helping neurons to form and break connections over time as an animal’s nervous system develops or adapts to a new environment or memory.  Although the fly and mouse versions of Arc are similar, they seem to have evolved from two distinct retroviruses that entered the species’ genomes at different times.  "There must be something really fundamental about it," Budnik says, for it to appear in both mice and flies... 

The human genome contains around 100 Gag-like genes that could encode proteins that form capsids.  It’s possible that this new form of communication between cells is more common than we thought, Shepherd says.  "We think it’s just the beginning."

Which is pretty astonishing.  The idea that some viruses might have beneficial effects on the host is weird enough; the idea that they could facilitate something as basic as memory storage is mind-blowing.  As such, they'd be a major driver for evolution -- given that organisms that have strong memory capacity are clearly at an advantage over ones that don't.

So before you curse the viruses this winter, be a little thankful for Arc and Gag and any other genetic parasites we might have that help us to function.  It may be small consolation if you are currently fighting a cold, but keep in mind that without viruses, you might not be keep anything in mind at all.

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Viral reality

If you are of the opinion that more evidence is necessary for demonstrating the correctness of the evolutionary model, I give you: a paper by biologist Justin R. Meyer of the University of California-San Diego et al. that has conclusively demonstrated speciation occurring in the laboratory.

The gist of what the team did is to grow populations of bacteriophage Lambda (a virus that attacks and kills bacteria) in the presence of populations of two different potential food sources, more specifically E. coli that had one of two different receptors where the virus could attach.  What happened was that the original bacteriophages were non-specialists -- they could attach to either receptor, but not very efficiently -- but over time, more of them accrued mutations that allowed them to specialize in attacking one receptor over the other.  Ultimately, the non-specialists became extinct, leaving a split population where each new species could not survive on the other's food source.

Diagram of a bacteriophage [Image is in the Public Domain]

Pretty amazing stuff.  My response was, "If that isn't evolution, what the hell is it?"  Of course, I'm expecting the litany of goofy rejoinders to start any time now.  "It's only microevolution."  "There was no novel gene produced."  "But both of them are still viruses.  If you showed me a virus evolving into a wombat, then I'd believe you."

Nevertheless, this sticks another nail in the coffin of the anti-evolutionists -- both Intelligent Design proponents and the young-Earth creationists, the latter of whom believe that all of the Earth's species were created as-is six thousand or so years ago along with the Earth itself, and that the two hundred million year old trilobite fossils one sometimes finds simply dropped out of God's pocket while he was walking through the Garden of Eden or something.

So as usual, you can't logic your way out of a stance you didn't logic your way into.  Still, I have hope that the tide is gradually turning.  Certainly one cheering incident comes our way from Richard Lenski, who is justly famous for his groundbreaking study of evolution in bacteria and who co-authored the Meyer paper I began with.  But Lenski will forever be one of my heroes for the way he handled Andrew Schlafly, who runs Conservapedia, a Wikipedia knockoff that attempts to remodel the world so that all of the ultra-conservative talking points are true.  Schlafly had written a dismissive piece about Lenski's work on Conservapedia, to which Lenski responded.  The ensuing exchange resulted in one of the most epic smackdowns by a scientist I've ever seen.  Lenski takes apart Schlafly's objections piece by piece, citing data, kicking ass, and taking names.  I excerpt the end of it below, but you can (and should) read the whole thing at the article on the "Lenski Affair" over at RationalWiki:

I know that I’ve been a bit less polite in this response than in my previous one, but I’m still behaving far more politely than you deserve given your rude, willfully ignorant, and slanderous behavior.  And I’ve spent far more time responding than you deserve.  However, as I said at the outset, I take education seriously, and I know some of your acolytes still have the ability and desire to think, as do many others who will read this exchange.

Sincerely, Richard Lenski

And if that's not spectacular enough, check out one of the four P.S.s:

I noticed that you say that one of your favorite articles on your website is the one on “Deceit.”  That article begins as follows: “Deceit is the deliberate distortion or denial of the truth with an intent to trick or fool another.  Christianity and Judaism teach that deceit is wrong.  For example, the Old Testament says, ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.’”  You really should think more carefully about what that commandment means before you go around bearing false witness against others.

I can only hope that there was a mic around after that so that Lenski could drop it.

So there you have it.  Science finding out cool stuff once again, because after all, that's what science does.  The creationists, it is to be hoped, retreating further and further into the corner into which they've painted themselves.  It's probably a forlorn wish that this'll make Ken Ham et al. shut up, but maybe they'll eventually have to adapt their strategy to address reality instead of avoiding it.

You might even say... they'll need to evolve.

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Viral reality

If you are of the opinion that more evidence is necessary for demonstrating the correctness of the evolutionary model, I give you: a paper by biologist Justin R. Meyer of the University of California-San Diego et al. that has conclusively demonstrated speciation occurring in the laboratory.

The gist of what the team did is to grow populations of bacteriophage Lambda (a virus that attacks and kills bacteria) in the presence of populations of two different potential food sources, more specifically E. coli that had one of two different receptors where the virus could attach.  What happened was that the original bacteriophages were non-specialists -- they could attach to either receptor, but not very efficiently -- but over time, more of them accrued mutations that allowed them to specialize in attacking one receptor over the other.  Ultimately, the non-specialists became extinct, leaving a split population where each new species could not survive on the other's food source.

Diagram of a bacteriophage [Image licensed under the Creative Commons GrahamColm at English Wikipedia, Phage, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Pretty amazing stuff.  My response was, "If that isn't evolution, what the hell is it?"  Of course, I'm expecting the litany of goofy rejoinders to start any time now.  "It's only microevolution."  "There was no novel gene produced."  "But both of them are still viruses.  If you showed me a virus evolving into a wombat, then I'd believe you."

"Anti-evolutionists," see "Goalposts, Moving the."

Nevertheless, this sticks another nail in the coffin of both Intelligent Design proponents and the young-Earth creationists, the latter of whom believe that all of the Earth's species were created as-is six thousand or so years ago along with the Earth itself, and that the two hundred million year old trilobite fossils one sometimes finds simply dropped out of God's pocket while he was walking through the Garden of Eden or something.

So as usual, you can't logic your way out of a stance you didn't logic your way into.  Still, I have hope that the tide is gradually turning.  Certainly one cheering incident comes our way from Richard Lenski, who is justly famous for his groundbreaking study of evolution in bacteria and who co-authored the Meyer paper I began with.  But Lenski will forever be one of my heroes for the way he handled Andrew Schlafly, who runs Conservapedia, a Wikipedia clone that attempts to remodel reality so that all of the ultra-conservative talking points are true.  Schlafly had written a dismissive piece about Lenski's work on Conservapedia, to which Lenski responded.  The ensuing exchange resulted in one of the most epic smackdowns by a scientist I've ever seen.  Lenski takes apart Schlafly's objections piece by piece, citing data, kicking ass, and taking names.  I excerpt the end of it below, but you can (and should) read the whole thing at the article on the "Lenski Affair" over at RationalWiki:

I know that I’ve been a bit less polite in this response than in my previous one, but I’m still behaving far more politely than you deserve given your rude, willfully ignorant, and slanderous behavior.  And I’ve spent far more time responding than you deserve.  However, as I said at the outset, I take education seriously, and I know some of your acolytes still have the ability and desire to think, as do many others who will read this exchange.

Sincerely, Richard Lenski

And if that's not spectacular enough, check out one of the four P.S.s:

I noticed that you say that one of your favorite articles on your website is the one on “Deceit.”  That article begins as follows: “Deceit is the deliberate distortion or denial of the truth with an intent to trick or fool another.  Christianity and Judaism teach that deceit is wrong.  For example, the Old Testament says, ‘Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.’”  You really should think more carefully about what that commandment means before you go around bearing false witness against others.

I can only hope that there was a mic around after that so that Lenski could drop it.

So there you have it.  Science finding out cool stuff once again, because after all, that's what science does.  The creationists, it is to be hoped, retreating further and further into the corner into which they've painted themselves.  It's probably a forlorn wish that this'll make Ken Ham shut up, but maybe he'll eventually have to adapt his strategy to address reality instead of avoiding it.

You might even say... he'll need to evolve.

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The sad truth of our history is that science and scientific research has until very recently been considered the exclusive province of men.  The exclusion of women committed the double injury of preventing curious, talented, brilliant women from pursuing their deepest interests, and robbing society of half of the gains of knowledge we might otherwise have seen.

To be sure, a small number of women made it past the obstacles men set in their way, and braved the scorn generated by their infiltration into what was then a masculine world.  A rare few -- Marie Curie, Barbara McClintock, Mary Anning, and Jocelyn Bell Burnell come to mind -- actually succeeded so well that they became widely known even outside of their fields.  But hundreds of others remained in obscurity, or were so discouraged by the difficulties that they gave up entirely.

It's both heartening and profoundly infuriating to read about the women scientists who worked against the bigoted, white-male-only mentality; heartening because it's always cheering to see someone achieve well-deserved success, and infuriating because the reason their accomplishments stand out is because of impediments put in their way by pure chauvinistic bigotry.  So if you want to experience both of these, and read a story of a group of women who in the early twentieth century revolutionized the field of astronomy despite having to fight for every opportunity they got, read Dava Sobel's amazing book The Glass Universe: How the Ladies of the Harvard Observatory Took the Measure of the Stars.

In it, we get to know such brilliant scientists as Willamina Fleming -- a Scottish woman originally hired as a maid, but who after watching the male astronomers at work commented that she could do what they did better and faster, and so... she did.  Cecilia Payne, the first ever female professor of astronomy at Harvard University.  Annie Jump Cannon, who not only had her gender as an unfair obstacle to her dreams, but had to overcome the difficulties of being profoundly deaf.

Their success story is a tribute to their perseverance, brainpower, and -- most importantly -- their loving support of each other in fighting a monolithic male edifice that back then was even more firmly entrenched than it is now.  Their names should be more widely known, as should their stories.  In Sobel's able hands, their characters leap off the page -- and tell you a tale you'll never forget.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

I contain multitudes

One of the things that even folks conversant in the evolutionary model sometimes don't know is the extent to which we are composite organisms.

On the gross level (and I mean that in both senses of the word), there is the sheer number of cells in us that are not human.  The adult human body has about 10 trillion human cells, and (depending on who you talk to) between 1 and 3 times more bacterial cells -- intestinal flora, bacteria hitching a ride on our skin, in our mouths, in our respiratory mucosa.  Most of these are commensals at the very worst -- neither harmful nor helpful -- but a significant number are in a mutualistic arrangement with us, which is one of several reasons why the overuse of antibiotics is a bad idea.

Then there are the little invaders we can't live without -- namely the mitochondria, those tiny organelles that every high school biology student knows are the "powerhouses of the cell."  What fewer people know is that they are actually separate organisms, descended from aerobic prokaryotes that colonized our cells 2.5 billion years ago (give or take a day or two).  They have their own DNA, and reproduce inside our cells by binary fission the same way they did when they were free-living proto-bacteria.

Mitochondria [Image is in the Public Domain courtesy of microscopist/photographer Louisa Howard]

And that's not all.  If you're a plant (I'm assuming you're not, but you never know), you have three separate ancestral lines -- your ordinary plant cells, the mitochondria, and the chloroplasts, which are also little single-celled invaders that now plants can't live without.  But even that's not the most extreme example.  The microorganism Mixotricha paradoxa is a composite being made up of five completely separate ancestral genomes that have fused together into one organism.

But back to humans, if you're not already so skeeved out that you've stopped reading.  Because it's even more complicated than what I've already told you, as you'll learn from geneticists Cedric Feschotte, Edward Chuong and Nels Elde of the University of Utah in a paper in which we find out that even our nuclear DNA isn't entirely human.  10% of our 30,000-odd genes and three-billion-odd base pairs...

... came from viruses.

We usually think of viruses as little parasites, some of which are killers like COVID-19, rabies, and ebola fever, but also include nuisances like colds, flu, warts and chickenpox.  Turns out, though, that they're more than that.  Some of them -- the retroviruses (HIV being the best-known example) -- are capable of inserting genetic material into the host's DNA, thus altering what the host does.  Certainly, sometimes this is bad; both AIDS and feline leukemia are outcomes of this process.  But now Feschotte, Chuong, and Elde have shown that some of our viral hangers-on have had their genes repurposed to work in our benefit.

These stowaway bits of DNA are called endogenous retroviruses (ERVs), and some of them seem to be associated with cancer.  Others have been implicated in multiple sclerosis and schizophrenia.  But what the researchers found is that not all of them are deleterious; the gene that allows us to digest starch, and (even more importantly) the gene that triggers the fusion of the developing embryo to the placenta, seem to have viral origins.

"We think we’ve only scratched the surface here on the regulatory potential of ERVs," Feschotte said.

All of which is pretty amazing.  And it definitely gives one pause when you stop to think of how we define the word "organism."  Am I a single organism?  Well, not really.  Besides my regular human cells, I've got trillions of prokaryotic hangers-on and trillions of mitochondria, each with their separate bacterially-derived genome; and 10% of what I think of as "my DNA" came from viruses, at least some of which has then been modified into genes that I depend on to survive.  So humans -- and all living things -- are looking more and more like composite colonies of symbiotic life forms, representing a web of interrelationships that is so complex that it's mind-boggling.

Remember the Trill from Star Trek:Deep Space Nine?  A lot of us were kind of creeped out to find out that Jadzia Dax's personality and intelligence didn't come from her humanoid brain, but from a weird, crustacean-like symbiotic life form that was wired into her nervous system.  Turns out that once again, Star Trek hit close to the target of the reality we've now uncovered with science -- only the reality is even more bizarre than the fiction.

So step aside, Star Trek aliens.  I'm too busy being blown away by how weird and cool the life here on Earth turns out to be.

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Back when I taught Environmental Science, I used to spend at least one period addressing something that I saw as a gigantic hole in students' knowledge of their own world: where the common stuff in their lives came from.  Take an everyday object -- like a sink.  What metals are the faucet, handles, and fittings made of?  Where did those metals come from, and how are they refined?  What about the ceramic of the bowl, the pigments in the enamel on the surface, the flexible plastic of the washers?  All of those substances came from somewhere -- and took a long road to get where they ended up.

Along those same lines, there are a lot of questions about those same substances that never occur to us.  Why is the elastic of a rubber band stretchy?  Why is glass transparent?  Why is a polished metal surface reflective, but a polished wooden surface isn't?  Why does the rubber on the soles of your running shoes grip -- but the grip worsens when they're wet, and vanishes entirely when you step on ice?

If you're interested in these and other questions, this week's Skeptophilia book-of-the-week is for you.  In Stuff Matters: Exploring the Marvelous Materials that Shape Our Man-Made World, materials scientist Mark Miodownik takes a close look at the stuff that makes up our everyday lives, and explains why each substance we encounter has the characteristics it has.  So if you've ever wondered why duct tape makes things stick together and WD-40 makes them come apart, you've got to read Miodownik's book.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Space germs

I'm fully in support of pure research, which should be obvious to anyone who is a regular reader of Skeptophilia.  But sometimes I run into a paper that leaves me scratching my head.

This happened this past weekend when I stumbled upon a press release from the University of Exeter entitled, "Mammals Could Struggle to Fight Space Germs."  The gist was that a team led by microbiologist Neil Gow did a series of experiments exposing mammalian cells to lab-synthesized peptides containing two amino acids that have been detected in space but not found in terrestrial proteins (isovaline and α-aminoisobutyric acid), and they found that the cell cultures had a "weak immune response."  From this, they concluded that if we're exposed to extraterrestrial microbes, we might really suck at fighting them off.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Phoebus87 at English Wikipedia, Symian virus, CC BY-SA 3.0]

This seemed like a rather overblown conclusion, so I went to the original paper (always a good idea; even university press releases are often oversimplifications or miss important points).  In this case, though, the press release was pretty much spot-on.  Here it is, straight from the paper:

The discovery of liquid water at several locations in the solar system raises the possibility that microbial life may have evolved outside Earth and as such could be accidently introduced into the Earth’s ecosystem.  Unusual sugars or amino acids, like non-proteinogenic isovaline and α-aminoisobutyric acid that are vanishingly rare or absent from life forms on Earth, have been found in high abundance on non-terrestrial carbonaceous meteorites.  It is therefore conceivable that exo-microorganisms might contain proteins that include these rare amino acids.  We therefore asked whether the mammalian immune system would be able to recognize and induce appropriate immune responses to putative proteinaceous antigens that include these rare amino acids. To address this, we synthesised peptide antigens based on a backbone of ovalbumin and introduced isovaline and α-aminoisobutyric acid residues and demonstrated that these peptides can promote naïve OT-I cell activation and proliferation, but did so less efficiently than the canonical peptides.  This is relevant to the biosecurity of missions that may retrieve samples from exoplanets and moons that have conditions that may be permissive for life, suggesting that accidental contamination and exposure to exo-microorganisms with such distinct proteomes might pose an immunological challenge.

Okay, I'll admit that this is one possible conclusion you could draw; it certainly has been riffed on often enough in science fiction, starting all the way back in 1969 with The Andromeda Strain.  (You could argue that it goes back further than that, given that at the end of H. G. Wells's 1898 novel The War of the Worlds, the invading Martians are destroyed by terrestrial microbes to which they have no natural immunity.)

The other possibility, however, is that the microbes wouldn't affect us at all.  When pathogens attack our cells, they usually obtain ingress by bonding to receptors on the surface.  Those receptors can be amazingly specific; this is why there are so many strains of flu, some of which only attack birds or pigs... or humans.  The immune species, in this case, lack the surface proteins that can form bonds to the viral proteins, so they don't get in.  The result: no disease.

In fact, it's even more specific than that.  In 2006, an outbreak of H5N1 bird flu generated worries about a pandemic, until it was learned that although highly contagious in birds, it only affects humans if the virus binds deep in the lung tissue -- the receptors in the upper respiratory system aren't able to bind to the virus efficiently (fortunately for us).  The only ones who became ill were poultry workers who were exposed to dust and debris in poultry houses.  No cases of human-to-human transmission were recorded.

So my suspicion is that extraterrestrial microbes probably wouldn't be able to attack us at all.  And given that our tissues would lack the two oddball amino acids the researchers used in their experiments, it seems pretty likely that if the microbes did get in, they'd starve to death.  (Put more scientifically, our proteins would lack two amino acids they need, so we wouldn't be of much use to them as a food source.)

Of course, it's possible that Gow et al. are right, and extraterrestrial microorganisms would consider the Earth an all-you-can-eat buffet.  But given that (1) the number of extraterrestrial microorganisms we've actually studied is zero, and (2) there are equally persuasive arguments to the contrary, it might be a little bit of a premature conclusion.

Now, that doesn't mean we should be bringing outer space debris to Earth, sans quarantine.  Hell, I've read The Colour Out of Space, and last thing I want is to have a gaseous entity from a meteorite cause my limbs to crumble and fall off.  COVID-19 is bad enough, thanks.  We really don't need any more reasons to panic, however.  So for now, let's confine ourselves to dealing with threats that currently exist.

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Being in the middle of a pandemic, we're constantly being urged to wash our hands and/or use hand sanitizer.  It's not a bad idea, of course; multiple studies have shown that communicable diseases spread far less readily if people take the simple precaution of a thirty-second hand-washing with soap.

But as a culture, we're pretty obsessed with cleanliness.  Consider how many commercial products -- soaps, shampoos, body washes, and so on -- are dedicated solely to cleaning our skin.  Then there are all the products intended to return back to our skin and hair what the first set of products removed; the whole range of conditioners, softeners, lotions, and oils.

How much of this is necessary, or even beneficial?  That's the topic of the new book Clean: The New Science of Skin by doctor and journalist James Hamblin, who considers all of this and more -- the role of hyper-cleanliness in allergies, asthma, and eczema, and fascinating and recently-discovered information about our skin microbiome, the bacteria that colonize our skin and which are actually beneficial to our overall health.  Along the way, he questions things a lot of us take for granted... such as whether we should be showering daily.

It's a fascinating read, and looks at the question from a data-based, scientific standpoint.  Hamblin has put together the most recent evidence on how we should treat the surfaces of our own bodies -- and asks questions that are sure to generate a wealth of discussion.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]

Viral nonsense

Some days, optimism is just a losing proposition.

Today's reason for repeated facepalms has to do with COVID-19, better known as Wuhan coronavirus.  It's not that the virus isn't scary enough by itself; there are currently 75,000 cases of confirmed COVID-19 worldwide, just over 2,000 of which have died of the illness.  So the mortality rate still isn't as high as that of this year's influenza strains, but it's enough to be worrisome.

So I suppose it's an understandable enough impulse -- to ascribe some kind of underlying reason for an event that otherwise just appears to be an unfortunate example of the chaotic nature of the universe.  But for fuck's sake, can't we try to restrain that a little bit?  Because the nonsense about this epidemic is really beginning to piss me off, and (I suspect) piss off the legitimate researchers, as well.

First, we have the evangelical wingnuts weighing in.

Rick Wiles, of TruNews, who has been something of a frequent flier here at Skeptophilia, jumped into the fray with the statement that the coronavirus was God's "death angel" sent to visit destruction upon us because of the push in the United States for LGBTQ rights, and also for all the "filth" in television and movies.  When the topic was raised of why (if that was so) the vast majority of cases were in China, Wiles didn't hesitate.  It's because China has a "godless communist government that persecutes Christians."  "God is about to purge a lot of the sin off this planet," he said.

Then there's the ever-entertaining Jim Bakker, who said that yes, coronavirus is bad, but it can be "cured in twelve hours" by a solution of colloidal silver.  That, coincidentally, he's selling by the bottle on his television show ("Call now to get yours!  Only forty dollars!").  Never mind that colloidal silver doesn't do a damn thing for a viral infection, and also has a permanent side effect -- it turns your skin a bizarre blue/gray color, a condition called argyria.

Maybe he's hoping that if all his followers turn blue, they won't feel so awkward supporting a politician who is orange.  I dunno.

Then the conspiracy theorists got involved.

It couldn't possibly be that the COVID-19 was introduced into the human population in the usual fashion -- via accidental contact with an animal vector.  This is virtually always the cause of so-called "emergent viruses," from the deadly Ebola, Marburg, and Lassa fevers to diseases like chikungunya, which usually doesn't kill you but makes you wish it did (the name comes from the Makonde language of Tanzania, and means "doubled over with pain").  But no, that's too prosaic.

It has to be biowarfare.

COVID-19  [Image is in the Public Domain, courtesy of the CDC]

The first piece of the conspiracy theory came when Charles Lieber, chair of Harvard University's Department of Chemistry, was arrested and charged with "making a materially false statement" regarding funding received from China.  So far, big news to academics, but not of much interest to the rest of us.

Until it came out that some of the funding came from Wuhan University.

Well, no way was that a coincidence.  Then a Chinese researcher was arrested trying to smuggle 21 vials of "biological substances," so of course there was no way it could be anything else but coronavirus, because Chinese + biological samples = deliberate viral terrorism.

Cue all the conspiracy fans to start having multiple orgasms.

Okay.  Where to start?

First, Lieber's arrest had nothing to do with coronavirus, and neither did the arrest of Zaosong Zheng, the Chinese researcher/smuggler.  And if you dig a little deeper, you find out that Zheng was trying to smuggle the samples out of the United States and back to China, not the other way around (which is what you'd expect if there was some kind of horrible plot by the Chinese to cause a pandemic using a manufactured bioweapon), and... most importantly... the "biological substances" weren't even virus cultures.  They were cancer cells that he was hoping to get back home so he could publish the data from the cultures under his own name and scoop the American researchers at Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center, where he'd stolen them from.

But even that information didn't make much of a dent.  So The Lancet decided to respond.  One of the most prestigious and respected medical journals in the world, The Lancet published a couple of days ago a statement by 27 medical researchers, epidemiologists, and health professionals saying that there was nothing artificial about COVID-19.  They write:

The rapid, open, and transparent sharing of data on this outbreak is now being threatened by rumours and misinformation around its origins.  We stand together to strongly condemn conspiracy theories suggesting that COVID-19 does not have a natural origin.  Scientists from multiple countries have published and analysed genomes of the causative agent, severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV-2), and they overwhelmingly conclude that this coronavirus originated in wildlife, as have so many other emerging pathogens.  This is further supported by a letter from the presidents of the US National Academies of Science, Engineering, and Medicine and by the scientific communities they represent.  Conspiracy theories do nothing but create fear, rumours, and prejudice that jeopardise our global collaboration in the fight against this virus.  We support the call from the Director-General of WHO to promote scientific evidence and unity over misinformation and conjecture.

There you have it.  The people who have actually studied this stuff have spoken authoritatively.  So when this came out, you would expect that the conspiracy theorists would chuckle in an embarrassed sort of way and say, "Wow, what a bunch of goobers we are."

You would be wrong.

This just reinforced their conviction that something big was afoot, because now they had proof that not only was COVID-19 a Chinese-manufactured bioweapon, the evil scientists responsible were covering it up.  How did they know this?

Because there was no evidence.  Duh.  You think evil super-conspirators are dumb enough to leave evidence?

And because the whole story wouldn't be complete without an American politician getting involved, just a couple of days ago Tom Cotton, Senator from Arkansas -- who is in some kind of contest with Matt Gaetz and Louie Gohmert to see who has the lowest IQ in Congress -- stated that "we have to keep our minds open:"

I'm suggesting we need to be open to all possibilities and we need to demand that China open up and be transparent so a team of international experts can figure out exactly where this virus originated.  We know it didn't originate in the Wuhan food market based on the study of Chinese scientists ...  I'm not saying where it started, I don't know.  We don't know because the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) won't open up to international experts.  That's what we need to do so they can get to the bottom of where the virus originated and hopefully can effect a diagnostic test and vaccine for it. 

Let's take the professor [Professor Richard Ebright of Rutgers University]  He was ...in fact today cited in the Asia Times saying that it was quite possible that it was a laboratory incident.  That's not saying this is a bioweapon, but we do know they were investigating and researching coronavirus in that laboratory.  It could've been an accidental breach, it could've been a worker that was infected.  My point is that we don’t know until we get all the evidence from the Chinese Communist Party, it is only responsible, not irresponsible, to keep an open mind about the hypotheses.

Okay.  First of all, we already have fucking international experts.  27 of them, in fact, who have stated unequivocally that COVID-19 is of natural origin.  Second, if you actually read the Asia Times article (or in Cotton's case, have a staffer read it to him), you find out that Ebright said "there was no indication that the virus had been artificially modified," but "there was no way to rule out" that the epidemic hadn't started in a lab accident.

Which is an example of typical scientific caution.  You can't rule something out for certain unless you have proof.  No proof = there's still a possibility.  But this is a far cry from Cotton's statement that "it's quite possible that it was a laboratory incident."

The whole thing is making me grind my teeth down to nubs.

But that's the problem with conspiracy theories.  The more you argue, the more convinced the conspiracy theorists become.  And if you're arguing, you're either a dupe or a shill.  It's kind of the opposite of the scientific method; with conspiracy theories, the less evidence you have, the more likely it is.

Because those conspirators are just that sly.

Anyhow, that's the latest on coronavirus.  It's bad, but not as bad as the flu, which we deal with every single year without people having complete meltdowns.  It'll probably dwindle, the way most epidemics do -- no one I've talked to who knows about viruses and epidemiology is particularly concerned that this is going to be the next Black Death.

But try to convince the evangelical lunatics, conspiracy theorists, and Tom Cotton of that.

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This week's book recommendation is a fascinating journey into a topic we've visited often here at Skeptophilia -- the question of how science advances.

In The Second Kind of Impossible, Princeton University physicist Paul Steinhardt describes his thirty-year-long quest to prove the existence of a radically new form of matter, something he terms quasicrystals, materials that are ordered but non-periodic.  Faced for years with scoffing from other scientists, who pronounced the whole concept impossible, Steinhardt persisted, ultimately demonstrating that an aluminum-manganese alloy he and fellow physicists Luca Bindi created had all the characteristics of a quasicrystal -- a discovery that earned them the 2018 Aspen Institute Prize for Collaboration and Scientific Research.

Steinhardt's book, however, doesn't bog down in technical details.  It reads like a detective story -- a scientist's search for evidence to support his explanation for a piece of how the world works.  It's a fascinating tale of persistence, creativity, and ingenuity -- one that ultimately led to a reshaping of our understanding of matter itself.

[Note: if you purchase this book from the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]