explanation - Science-Education-Research

And then the plant said…

Do plants deliberately deceive insects?

Keith S. Taber

Do plants deceive insects by deliberately pretending to be rotting meat? (Spoiler alert. No, they do not.)
[Image credits: Rafflesia – Maizal, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons; Amorphophallus titanum – ailing moose, CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0, via Wikimedia Commons; fly and beetle – by Clker-Free-Vector-Images from Pixabay]

Mysterious plants

Earlier this week I heard an episode of BBC Radio 4's 'Start the Week' programme entitled 'Mysterious Plants' ¹ (which can be heard here). It is always good to hear science-related episodes of series such as this. The mysterious plants included Amorphophallus titanum ² believed to have the largest un-branched inflorescence of any plant in the world; and the parasitic genus Rafflesia, one species of which is thought to have the largest individual flowers in the world. ³

I could not help notice, however, that according to the guests, some plants are sentient beings, able to reflect on their circumstances, and to deliberately act in the world. Botanist Dr Chris Thorogood (of University of Oxford's Oxford Botanic Garden and Arboretum) described the parasitic plant Rafflesia as being 'pretty sneaky'. This is anthropomorphic, because – if taken literally – it implies deliberate behaviour.

No insects were deceived in the making of this programme

He was outdone, in this sense though, by evolutionary chemical ecologist Dr Kelsey Byers (of The John Innes Centre, Norwich) who told listeners,

"So these flies and beetles like to lay their eggs on rotting meat', and the flower goes 'oh, what if I also looked and smelled like rotting meat', or like the Amorphophallus titanum you might see at Kew Gardens for example, 'what if I also emitted heat, just like a pile of rotting meat?' …

So, what it's attracting are flies and beetles that essentially are going 'Ooh, that smells like food, that looks like food, I'm going to lay my eggs here, it's going to be great, my babies will have a great chance to survive'.

But there's, there's no food, it is deceiving them, it's basically saying 'I'm, mimicking the food, come and stay'."
Dr Kelsey Byer speaking on Radio 4

Now, I assume that Dr Byers does not intend this as a literal account of the biology discussed. In strict scientific terms, it is rather misleading

"flies and beetles like to lay their eggs on rotting meat"

I get a little uneasy when non human entities are described as liking things, as this does not reflect the subjective human experience of liking, say chocolate or Pink Floyd. But this unease probably links to the common alternative conception that students acquire in chemistry that atoms 'like' or 'want' full shells of electrons. Dr Byers could quite reasonably suggest that "flies and beetles tend to lay their eggs on rotting meat"; that their behaviour reflects a preference; and that is what 'likes' means. Fair enough.

"the flower goes 'oh, what if I also looked and smelled like rotting meat' … 'what if I also emitted heat, just like a pile of rotting meat?'…"

Now, flowers do not express themselves in language, and in any case (I'm fairly certain) do not have thoughts to potentially be expressed in language. Plato (2008) has his spokesperson Timaeus suggest that plants were "the kind of living being that…knows nothing of belief, reasoning, and intelligence". ⁴ So, no, plants do not do this – at least not literally.

"flies and beetles essentially are going 'Ooh, that smells like food, that looks like food, I'm going to lay my eggs here, it's going to be great, my babies will have a great chance to survive'…"

So insects are animals, and I can be less sure they do not have any kind of thought processes. (But it seems likely conscious thought requires a much more complex nervous system than that of any insect.) The 'essentially' means that Dr Byers is not suggesting they are directly expressing these ideas, but only indirectly (perhaps, those behavioural preferences again?) But I am pretty sure that even if insects could be said to 'think' at some level, they do not have formal concepts of food. I do not doubt that the fly experiences something when it eats that is different to when it is not eating, but I really doubt it is meaningful to suggest a fly has any concept of eating or can be said to 'know' when it is eating.

Surely, a fly feeding is pure instinct. It responds to cues (smell much more than sight I should think given the fly's compound eye {perhaps excellent for spotting movement, but – identifying potential meals?}, and the likely distance away that food might be found) to approach some material (without thinking, 'oh good, that smells like food!') and then further cues (greater intensity of the smell, perhaps; texture underfoot?) trigger eating, or egg laying. To be honest, I think even as a human I have sometimes behaved this way myself when distracted by a problem occupying all my conscious attention! (To clarify, that's when eating, not laying eggs.)

I do not think flies or beetles have any concept of 'babies'. I am pretty sure they do not know that egg laying is a reproductive function (even if they can be said to have any awareness that they are laying eggs), and will lead to offspring. I'm also pretty sure they are not aware of the issue of infant mortality, and that that they have a greater chance to be a grandparent if they choose the right place to lay their eggs.

The plant is deceiving the insects, it's basically saying 'I'm, mimicking the food, come and stay'.

Again, the plant is not saying anything. If does not have a notion of mimicry, and is not aware it is mimic. It does not have any notions. It is not deliberately deceiving the flies or beetles. It does not know there are flies or beetles in the world. It does not do anything deliberately.

I am not even sure it is right to say the plant deceives. You can only deceive an entity capable of being deceived. Insects are not deceived, just following instincts. The plant does not do anything to deliberately attract or entice the insects – their attraction to the plant is just a consequence of a match of the animal's instincts (not under the control of the insect), and the plant's evolved anatomy, physiology and biochemistry.

Now, as I suggested above, I am pretty sure Dr Byers knows all this (much better than me!) Perhaps this is just a habitual way of talking she has adopted to discuss her work, or perhaps she was deliberately using figurative language on this occasion to help communicate the science to a diverse radio audience. To 'make the unfamiliar familiar' the abstract concepts of science need to be related to more familiar everyday experiences. The narrative here helps to humanise science.

Read about 'making the unfamiliar familiar' in teaching

Dr Byers is not alone in this way of presenting science – it is very common when scientists talk to general audiences (e.g., so, no, vegetarians bees did not realise they were missing out on a potential food source and so decide to start eating meat).

Anthropomorphism and teleology

This type of figurative language is anthropomorphic. That is, it treats non-humans (flowers, whole plants, insects, clouds, atoms…) as if they were human – with human cognition (concepts, deliberate conscious thinking) and motivations and emotions. Humans are part of the natural world, and the extent to which anthropomorphism distorts scientific accounts surely varies. An atom cannot be jealous. Nor a bacterium. But I would think a chimp can be.⁵ What about a fish?

This is a serious issue for science educators because learners often use anthropomorphic language in science lessons, and it is less clear they are doing so figuratively. They may mean this literally – and even if not, may come to habitually use this kind of language and so feel that in doing so they really they can explain phenomena 'scientifically'. But from a technical scientific perspective these are only pseudo-explanations (Taber & Watts, 2000).

Read about the types of pseudo-explanations learners commonly offer

So, sodium reacts with chlorine because the atoms want to fill their shells (Taber & Watts, 1996). So wrong, on so many levels, but so many students think that is the scientific account! Bacteria want to infect us, and seek to become resistant to antibiotics. And so many more examples.

Read about anthropomorphism in students' thinking

Read examples of anthropomorphic explanations in science

The canonical biological explanation is that living things are the way they are because they have evolved to be so, through natural selection. It is natural selection that has led to insects laying eggs in conditions where they are likely to hatch – such as in rotting meat. It is natural selection that has led to some plants attracting insect pollinators by becoming similar to rotting meat – similar, that is, in how those plants are perceived within the insect's unwelt.

But lay people often tend to prefer teleological explanations because they appeal more to our own instincts. It seems that things are the way they are for a purpose: as if a plant was guided towards a new structure because there is an end point, identified from the outset, of becoming attractive to insects that will fertilise the flowers.

As humans behave deliberately and work towards goals, it is easy to transfer this familiar scheme to non-human species. Because human artefacts (the Eiffel Tower, the Pyramids, the iPhone, the international space station) have been designed and built with purposes in mind, it is easy to also see the intricate and effective structures and mechanisms of the living world as also designed with purpose in mind.

Read about teleology

Of course, some of these biological structures can seem so unlikely to have evolved through 'chance' or 'trial and error' that many people find the canonical scientific account non-feasible. (And, it is very hard for people to conceptualise the sheer number of generations over which species have evolved.) Of course, although chance is involved, at each step there is feedback into the system: there is preferential selection of some outcomes. What 'works' is selected not so much because it works, but by virtual of it working.

Evolution is contingent – natural selection can only select the features that are 'in play' at a particular time. But which features remain in play is not just down to chance. ⁶ So, to adopt an analogy, natural selection is not simply a matter of chance, like a number coming up on a roulette wheel. It is more like a game of poker where the cards dealt may be at random, but one can then select which cards to keep, to build up a winning hand. ⁷

Darwin's book on 'various contrivances'

Darwin was very aware of this general problem, and the specific example of how it came to be that some plants need to be fertilised in very particular ways, by particular insects – and would seem to have structures so specific and well matched to their pollinators that it seems incredible they could have evolved rather than had been deliberately designed.

Darwin knew that many people found his account of evolution unconvincing in the face of the subtlety and intricacies of natural forms. He chose to study the orchids in some detail because they showed great diversity in flower structures and often seemed especially well 'designed' (with 'various contrivances') for their particular animal fertilisers. Darwin argued that all these odd structures could be understood to have slowly evolved from a common ancestor plant by myriad small modification of ancestral structures that collectively led to the wide diversification of forms (Darwin, 1862)

A difficult balance for science communicators

So, science communicators – whether teachers or journalists or scientists themselves – have a challenge here. The kind of language that is most likely to engage an audience and make science seem accessible can actually come to stand in the way of genuine understanding of the scientific principles.

I do not think that means figurative language should be completely avoided in discussing science, but it is very important to remember that an account which is intended to obviously be metaphorical may be understood literally because anthropomorphism and teleology seem to make perfectly good sense to most people.

These kinds of pseudo-explanations may not score any credit in science exams, but this way of thinking is perhaps as instinctively appealing to many humans as, say, laying eggs in rotting meat is to some insects.

Work cited:

Darwin, C. (1862) On the various contrivances by which British and foreign orchids are fertilised by insects, and on the good effects of intercrossing. London: John Murray
Plato (2008) Timaeus and Critias (Translator: Robin Waterfield).Oxford University Press, 2008.
Taber, K. S. and Watts, M. (1996) The secret life of the chemical bond: students' anthropomorphic and animistic references to bonding, International Journal of Science Education, 18 (5), pp.557-568. (Download this paper)
Taber, K. S., & Watts, M. (2000). Learners' explanations for chemical phenomena. Chemistry Education: Research and Practice in Europe, 1(3), 329-353. (Download this paper)

Notes:

¹ The enticing episode description is:

"The plant Rafflesia has the world's largest flowers and gives off one of the worst scents; it's also something of a biological enigma, a leafless parasite that lives off forest vines. For the botanist Chris Thorogood, an expert in parasitic and carnivorous plants at the Oxford Botanic Garden and Arboretum, Rafflesia is also an obsession. In his book, Pathless Forest, he goes in search of this mysterious plant in some of the last wildernesses in South East Asia.

Dr Kelsey Byers is an evolutionary chemical ecologist who specialises in floral scent and its influence on the evolution of flowering plants. In her laboratory at the John Innes Centre in Norwich she studies how flowers use different smells to attract their pollinator of choice. From sweet aromas to the stink of rotting flesh, she explores how plants use con-artistry and sexual deception to thrive.

The ethnobotanist William Milliken from Kew Gardens has spent much of his career working with indigenous people in the Amazon to preserve traditional plant knowledge. Now he's focused on collecting folklore about the use of plants to treat ailments in animals in Britain. From wild garlic treating mastitis in cows, to cabbage for flatulence in dogs, he hopes to uncover a cornucopia of plant-based veterinary medicines."
https://www.bbc.co.uk/sounds/play/m001wxkb

² Dr Thorogood helpfully explained that what Amorphophallus titanum actually means is 'giant distorted penis'.

Does a sunflower have large flowers?

³ Some plants have a great many flowers on the same 'head' or inflorescence. Consider the sunflower. From a distance it seems each of the flowers are large, but, on closer inspection, each inflorescence has a great many tiny individual flowers – each one able to produce pollen and be fertilised.

Photograph of bee on sunflower — A bee on a sunflower collecting nectar and pollen. Each of the tiny structures is an individual flower.

A photo-essay showing sunflowers at different stages of development including close-ups of the structures can be seen here.

⁴ Although, to be fair, he went on to suggest that a plant "is aware only of the pleasures and pains that accompany its appetites". I would suggest, not.

⁵ Am I over-cautious? We assume all normal humans beings can potentially feel anger, jealousy, love, fear, etc. But actually no one really knows if anyone else has the same subjective experiences when two people report they are envious, or in love. People could be experiencing something quite different and still using the same label. (This is the qualia issue – e.g., how do I know if the experience I have of red is what you experience? This is something quite different from agreeing on which objects are red.) After all, some people find odours and flavours attractive that others find unpleasant, and the same mode of tickling can lead to quite different responses from different patients.

I think a dog could be sad, and a rabbit can be scared. But I doubt [sic, I mean really doubt] an earthworm could be proud. Unless we can decide where to draw the lines, we really have to wonder if these terms meaningfully transfer across species.

⁶ At the level of an individual's survival and reproduction, there is a lot of chance involved. Being in the right, or wrong, place when a mate, or a predator, appears; or when a flood, or a forest fire, happens, may have little to do with the variations in features within a population. But a slight advantage in attracting the mate or escaping the peril means that over a large population, across many generations, some features will be preferentially passed on.

⁷ Strictly these processes are not random, but 'near enough' for human purposes. A roulette ball is large enough to be a classical object (that is we can ignore the indeterminacy that seems to be part of quantum mechanics) so given the spin of the wheel, and the initial trajectory and entry point of the ball (and such factors as the fiction produced due to the materials involved) it is in principle possible to consider this a deterministic process. That is, particular, precise, starting conditions will lead to distinct, in principle predictable, outcomes. In practice though, no human could control the wheel and ball precisely enough to manufacture a specific outcome. It may as well not be deterministic.

Much the same is true of a pack of cards. Given the original order of the deck and a finite number of specific moves to shuffle the deck, only one new order is possible. It is however again difficult to deliberately shuffle a deck and control the new order (though perhaps not quite impossible – which is why often the person shuffling the deck invites other players to choose cuts within the process).

Sometimes in research, the methodology adopted requires randomisation (for example of individual participants to different experimental conditions) and usually such process as rolling dice or drawing blind ballots are 'good enough' even if not strictly random, as no person could control the outcomes obtained.

Read about the criterion for randomisation in research

Burning is when you are burning something with fire …

Iconic chemical triangles

Keith S. Taber

Derek was a participant in the Understanding Science Project. When I interviewed Derek soon after the start of his secondary schooling, he told me he liked science, and was currently studying 'burning'.

So, I asked him what that was:

What is burning?

[pause, c.2s]

When [pause, c.2s] a fuel, oxygen and heat gets – in, erm, I'm not quite sure how to explain, but it's like – you get the triangle of fire, and then, burning is just when you've got fire and you're burning something with it.

Okay, so you'd recognise it if you saw it, would you?

Yeah.

Yeah, but maybe it's not that easy to explain?

Yeah.

The notion that 'burning is just when you've got fire and you're burning something with it' – might be considered tautological:

burning is when you are burning something

Scientists look to explain natural phenomena with theories, principles, models, and so forth. But for most people, phenomena that they have been familiar with since very young (such as a dropped object falling) do not seem to need explanation – as they are seen as just natural events (Watts & Taber, 1996).

Derek knew about the fire triangle, but his response reminded me of another triangle that is often referred to by science educators.

Johnstone's triangle

For many years Prof. Alex Johnstone (1930-2017) worked at the Centre for Science Education that he founded at the University of Glasgow; where he undertook, supervised, and collaborated on, a good many projects in science education – especially, but not only, relating to the teaching and learning of chemistry and physics in higher education.

However, one of Johnstone's most influential publications must be the short article he published in the School Science Review (Johnstone, 1982) – the secondary science journal of the Association for Science Education. In this short piece he argued that in each of biology, chemistry, and physics, learning difficulties in part derived from how the subject was taught at several 'levels' at once, asking young learners to think simultaneously on different planes as it were. In each of these science subjects, this could be represented by a triangle. In many lessons students would be asked to think about, and inter-relate, considerations from the viewpoints of several vertices.

Johnston's chemistry triangle distinguished between three levels:

the macroscopic (the scale at which people observe and handle materials);
the submicroscopic (molecular) scale at which many chemical explanations are developed;
the symbolic level – where abstract symbols are used to represent the chemistry

"Those of us who are academic chemists can view our subject on at least three levels.

There is the level at which which we can see and handle materials, and describe their properties in terms of density, flammability, colour and so on. We are also interested in the possibility of conversion of one material into another with consequent changes in properties.

A second level is the representational one in which we try to represent chemical substances by formulae and their changes by equations. This is part of the sophisticated language of the subject.

The third level is atomic and molecular, a level at which we attempt to explain why chemical substances behave the way they do. We invoke atoms, molecules, ions, structures, isomers, polymers etc to give us a mental picture by which to direct our thinking and rationalize the descriptive level mentioned above.

These levels could be called (a) descriptive and functional, (b) representational, (c) explanatory. Trained chemists jump freely from level to level in a series of mental gymnastics. It is eventually very hard to separate these levels."
Johnstone, 1982 (added emphasis)

Over the years there have been many attempts to apply, elaborate, and refine Johnston's triangle, and it has been an idea that has proved very productive in thinking about learning difficulties in the subject.

"Chemistry seeks to provide qualitative and quantitative explanations for the observed behaviour of elements and their compounds. Doing so involves making use of three types of representation: the macro (the empirical properties of substances); the sub-micro (the natures of the entities giving rise to those properties); and the symbolic (the number of entities involved in any changes that take place). Although understanding this triplet relationship is a key aspect of chemical education, there is considerable evidence that students find great difficulty in achieving mastery of the ideas involved…" (Publisher's description)

One well-respected, edited, scholarly book ('Multiple Representations in Chemical Education' – Gilbert & Treagust, 2009) consisted of contributions exploring implications of the idea. Indeed, now, there is even a book entitled 'The Johnstone Triangle' (Reid, 2021) with the telling subtitle: 'the key to understanding chemistry'!

Johnstone's triangle is now the subject of a book

Reconceptualisation

Derek was just being introduced to burning as a science topic, and for him it was still just a familiar phenomenon rather than a theoretical construct. We have all seen fires, and can recognise when something is burning – but how many people really know what fire is?¹ Burning and fire are everyday concepts – fire is an impressive phenomenon to a young child: one that is salient enough to be noticed. The child's brain then recognises different instances of fire as being similar and it abstracts a spontaneous concept – that there is a category of events in the world that appear like this.

Of course, the brain of the young child does this without using language (it forms a category of events in the sense that it readily recognises new instances – it does not yet have access to have technical notions of 'category', 'concept', 'abstraction' of course.) And the child does not instinctively know this is called 'fire' or 'el incendio' or 'l' incendie' or whatever, until someone who is a more mature member of the child's natural language community shares this label.²

School science will involve learning that there is a formal scientific concept³ called 'combustion' that is basically the chemist's name for burning. However, 'combustion' is a technical term, so combustion will be defined in terms of other concepts. So, whereas in everyday life we recognise what counts as a fire or burning using the brain's inherent pattern-recognition mechanism (a spontaneous conception), in chemistry we have a technical definition (a scientific concept defined in relation to to other scientific concepts, and so 'theoretical').

That is, in everyday life, if you told someone you saw something on fire, it is unlikely anyone (leaving aside science teachers) would ask you which criteria you used to know this: you did not deliberate on the matter, you simply saw, and instantly recognised, a fire. When you refer to a fire, the other person recognises what you mean because they have learnt 'fire' to be the label for their own spontaneously formed conception that allows their perceptual-cognitive system to instantly recognise a fire.

But, for a chemist, combustion is one class of chemical reaction (so the learner can only understand combustion in chemical terms if they have an appreciation of what a chemical reaction is), which only makes sense to someone who has reasonable idea what a scientist means by a substance, as chemical reactions are changes resulting in different substances. Here we have shifted from everyday notions to the theoretical descriptions of science.

In school chemistry, everyday phenomena (e.g., burning) are reconsolidated in terms of technical concepts and language (e.g., combustion). (From Taber, 2013)

The invisible nanoscopic world

But chemists are seldom satisfied with macroscopic accounts – even when posed in technical language. Rather, students will be taught to explain the observable macroscopic phenomena in terms of invisible entities which have unfamiliar properties. Imagined entities such as molecules⁴, nanoscopic systems which are best understood as fuzzy balls of fields – that have no actual surface, and are mostly tenuous 'clouds' of charge. (Molecules are sometimes modelled as if billiard balls, or sets of balls connected by sticks, but this is just an attempt to represent entities quite unlike the familiar referents available to learners in ways they can make sense of.)

That is, combustion will be explained as a rearrangement of electrons and atomic cores that changes one set of molecules (of the reactants in the reaction) into another (the products). This process will involve energy changes, due to differences in stability of different sets of molecules, and will progress through the breaking and making of chemical bonds.

If the learner is able to form a mental image of (i.e., imagine) chemical reactions at the nanoscopic level, and see how this can be used to explain an actual observable phenomenon (such as a fire), they then also have to learn how chemists often represent these ideas in what is in effect a specialist language – involving chemical formulae, and reaction equations, and the like.

So, when Derek was using a Bunsen burner to set fire to pasta and (not quite set fire to) raisins as he reported to me, he was using a chemical reaction that might be summarised by the chemist or science teacher as:

CH₄ + 2O₂ ➞ CO₂ + 2H₂O

Johnstone suggested that the symbolic representation was the third level, alongside the macroscopic and submicroscopic. He was absolutely right that it added to the 'learning demand'. However, there is another complication in that many of these key representations (the formulae and equations) are ambiguous as they can represent either the macroscopic level of substances weighed out in grammes (2O₂ would represent 64 g of the substance oxygen, although as it is a gas it would normally be measured by volume) or the individual imagined entities of the molecular world (where 2O₂ would mean two molecules of oxygen).

Useful ambiguity

This is useful ambiguity for the chemist – but an added complication for the learner who has to follow the teacher's transitions where one moment a symbol reflects a test tube of stuff, and the next some molecule. Because of its role in bridging between the two very different scales at which we explain chemistry I prefer to see these symbols as being along one side of the triangle (whilst separating out the everyday phenomenological level from the technical, theoretical descriptions used by science). However, whatever version of Johnstone's triangle is applied, it has become something of an iconic image in chemistry education.

The chemist's triplet: a variation on Johnstone's triangle (from Taber, 2013)

Another iconic triangle

Derek had not yet been introduced to all this, and he was still operating with burning as a phenomenon:

And why is this important, do you think? Why do you think we study burning?

[pause, c.2s]

I'm not sure.

No one's told you that?

No.

Is it fun, is it a fun topic?

Yeah.

What Derek did seem to have learned well was the fire triangle.

But you have this 'triangle of fire'. So does that mean that fire is always a triangular shape?

No.

So, what's a triangle of fire?

You need three things to make a fire, which is oxygen, heat and fuel.

Okay, so what if I had erm some fuel and some heat, but I didn't have any oxygen, but maybe I've got lots of fuel?

No – wouldn't have fire.

I can't have extra fuel instead?

No.

No?

You need the three things.

What if I've got lots and lots of fuel, and lots and lots of oxygen, but it's very, very cold?

No.

No, that won't work either. So I always have to have the three things?

Yeah.

Derek stuck to his claim – you always needed all three. This is a useful heuristic (useful if ever one is faced with a fire as it tells you can act by just removing one of the three essentials) even if (like most heuristics) it will sometimes fail, e.g.

some materials will continue burning in the absence of an external supply of oxygen as they have an internal source;
chlorine will support combustion in place of oxygen (but that's seldom a practical issue in everyday situations) ;
substances have an auto-ignition temperature (where they can spontaneously ignite), and for a few substances this is around or below room temperature;

These exceptions do not undermine the general utility of the' 'triangle'.

Some useful learning had gone on here – and potentially not just about fire, because the idea that one factor may be limiting on a process is a generally useful principle (e.g., plants grown in a soil depleted in potassium will not thrive, no matter how much sunlight, water, nitrate and phosphate is present).

But the fire triangle, even if it is not supported by a deep understanding of chemical principles, is worth teaching because of its practical value. It seems to offer a heuristic that people accept and recall. And rather like Johnston's triangle, it seems to have become rather iconic. At least, I assume that is why when COVID-19 infection rates were high, the fire triangle was used as a familiar analogy to persuade people to avoid the 'oxygen' of social mixing…

"I like to think of COVID as a fire, if we are the fuel, social mixing is the oxygen that allows the fuel to burn…'"

Read 'COVID is like a fire because…'

Work cited

Gilbert, J. K., & Treagust, D. F. (Eds.). (2009). Multiple Representations in Chemical Education. Springer.
Johnstone, A. H. (1982). Macro- and microchemistry [Notes and correspondence]. School Science Review, 64(227), 377-379.
Reid, N. (2021). The Johnstone Triangle: The Key to Understanding Chemistry. Royal Society of Chemistry.
Taber, K. S. (2013). Revisiting the chemistry triplet: drawing upon the nature of chemical knowledge and the psychology of learning to inform chemistry education. Chemistry Education Research and Practice, 14(2), 156-168. https://doi.org/10.1039/C3RP00012E (This article is free to download from the publisher's website)
Watts, M. and Taber, K. S. (1996) An explanatory gestalt of essence: students' conceptions of the 'natural' in physical phenomena, International Journal of Science Education, 18 (8), pp.939-954.

Notes

¹ It has been mooted that fire should be understood as an example the 'fourth' phase of matter, plasma – that is an ionised gas.⁵ But actually fire is more complicated than this as it contains a mixture of reactant and product molecules and the molecular fragments that form intermediate and/or transition states. Some chemical reactions, when studied at the molecular level, largely follow a single reaction path. But combustion tends to be much more complex with multiple pathways involving many different ions and molecular fragments.

Read: The states of (don't) matter? Which state of matter is fire?

So, fire is a multiphase mixture, more akin to a solution, aerosol, or suspension, than to a gas or plasma.

² The child does not know this is called fire, and when she is told this she may not realise that such names are social conventions – according to Jean Piaget's research young children may assume that things in the world have (that is, have always had) a name that people have had to learn.

This childish idea reflects superstitious notions about names that are part of some magical systems of knowledge – 'the law of names': the idea that if you know a person or thing's real name this gives you over over them/it.

³ A very influential theory due to Lev Vygotsky takes the distinction between spontaneous concepts formed automatically, and formal taught concepts that are shared through social interaction (such as teaching). These latter kinds of concepts are usually translated from Vygotsky's Russian as 'scientific' though this is meant in the broad sense of any formal field of study. A key point emphasised by Vygotsky was that, assuming the learners could relate a taught concept to existing spontaneous concepts (that is, 'meaningful learning' occurred), they would actually come to operate with a concept which was a hybrid developed from the interaction of the intuitive understanding and the learned technically defined notion – a melded conception.

⁴ By referring to molecules and ions and electrons as imagined entities, I am not suggesting they are only imaginary. Most (if not all) scientists today see them as real things (even if strictly our evidence is indirect, and they arguably remain theoretical constructs). But a teacher cannot directly show the class a molecule or an electron, even if some types of imaging equipment do now produce representations of individual atoms. For the learners (and I would suggest even the teacher) these are only ever imagined entities. Yet, we expect students to do a good deal of thinking about, and with, these imagined entities.

⁵ If we are expanding the three states of matter, then there is an argument for making plasma the 5th phase:

Bose-Einstein condensates
solids
liquids
gases
plasma
(quark 'soups'?)

How to avoid birds of prey

…by taking refuge in the neutral zone

Keith S. Taber

Fact is said to be stranger than (science) fiction

Regular viewers of Star Trek may be under the impression that it is dangerous to enter the neutral zone between the territories claimed by the United Federation of Planets and that of the Romulan Empire in case any incursion results in an attack by a Romulan Bird of Prey.

A bird of prey (with its prey?)
(Image by Thomas Marrone, used by permission – full-size version at the source site here)

However, back here on earth, it may be that entering the neutral zone is actually a way of avoiding an attack by a bird of prey

A bird of prey (with its prey). Run rabbit, run rabbit…*into the neutral zone*
(Image by Ralph from Pixabay)

At least, according to the biologist Jakob von Uexküll

"All the more remarkable is the observation that a neutral zone insinuates itself between the nest and the hunting ground of many raptors, a zone in which they seize no prey at all. Ornithologists must be correct in their assumption that this organisation of the environment was made by Nature in order to keep the raptors from seizing their own young. If, as they say, the nestling becomes a branchling and spends its days hopping from branch to branch near the parental nest, it would easily be in danger of being seized by mistake by its own parents. In this way, it can spend its days free of danger in the neutral zone of the protected area. The protected area is sought out by many songbirds as a nesting and incubation site where they can raise their young free of danger under the protection of the big predator."
Uexküll, 1934/2010

This is a very vivid presentation, but is phrased in a manner I thought deserved a little interrogation. It should, however, be pointed out that this extract is from the English edition of a book translated from the original German text (which itself was originally published almost a century ago).

A text with two authors?

Translation is a process of converting a text from one natural language to another, but every language is somewhat unique regarding its range of words and word meanings. That is, words that are often considered equivalent in different language may have somewhat different ranges of application in those languages, and different nuances. Sometimes there is no precise translation for a word, and a single word in one language may have several near-equivalents in another (Taber, 2018). Translation therefore involves interpretation and creative choices.

So, translation is a skilled art form, and not simply something that can be done well by algorithmically applying suggestions in a bilingual dictionary. A good translation of an academic text not only requires someone fluent in both languages, but also someone having a sufficient understanding of the topic to translate in the best way to convey the intended meaning rather than simply using the most directly equivalent words. A sequence of the most equivalent individual words may not give the best translation of a sentence, and indeed when translating idioms may lead to a translation with no obvious meaning in the target language. It is worth bearing in mind that any translated text has (in effect) two authors, and reflects choices made by the translator as well as the original author.

Read about the challenges of translation in research writing

I am certainly not suggesting there is anything wrong with the translation of Uexküll's text, but it should be born in mind I am commenting on the English language version of the text.

A neutral zone insinuates itself

No it does not.

The language here is surely metaphorical, as it implies a deliberate action by the neutral zone. This seems to anthropomorphise the zone as if it is a human-like actor.

Read about anthropomorphism

The zone is a space. Moreover, it is not a space that is in any way discontinuous with the other space surrounding it – it is a human conception of a region of space with imagined boundaries. The zone is not a sentient agent, so it can not insinuate itself.

Ornithologists must be correct

Science develops theoretical knowledge which is tested against empirical evidence, but is always (strictly) provisional in that it should be open to revisiting in the light of further evidence. Claims made in scientific discourse should therefore be suitable tentative. Perhaps

ornithologists seem to be correct in suggesting…, or
it seems likely that ornithologists were correct when they suggested…or even
at present our best understanding reflects the suggestions made by ornithologists that...

Yet a statement that ornithologists must be correct implies a level of certainty and absoluteness that seems inconsistent with a scientific claim.

Read about certainty in accounts of science

The environment was made by Nature in order to…

This phrasing seems to personify Nature as if 'she' is a person. Moreover, this (…in order to…) suggests a purpose in nature. This kind of teleological claim is often considered inappropriate in science as it suggests natural events occur according to some pre-existing plan rather than unfolding according to natural laws. ¹ If we consider something happens to achieve a purpose we seem to not need to look for a mechanism in terms of (for example) forces (or entropy or natural selection or…).

Read about personification of nature

Read about teleology in science

Being seized by mistake

We can understand that it would decrease the biological fitness of a raptor to indiscriminately treat its own offspring as potential food. There are situations when animals do eat their young, but clearly any species that's members committed considerable resources to raising a small number of young (e.g., nest building, egg incubation) but were also regular consumers of those young would be at a disadvantage when it came to its long-term survival.

So, in terms of what increases a species' fitness, avoiding eating your own children would help. If seeking a good 'strategy' to have descendants, then, eating offspring would be a 'mistake'. But the scientific account is not that species, or individual members of a species, seek to deliberately adopt a strategy to have generations of descendants: rather behaviour that tends to lead to descendants is self-selecting.

Just because humans can reflect upon 'our children's children's, children', we cannot assume that other species even have the vaguest notions of descendants. (And the state of the world – pollution, deforestation, habitat destruction, nuclear arsenals, soil degradation, unsustainable use of resources, etcetera – strongly suggests that even humans who can conceptualise and potentially care about their descendants have real trouble making that the basis for rational action.)

Even members of the very rare species *capable of conceptualising a future for their offspring* struggle to develop strategies taking the well-being of future generations into account.
(Image: cover art for '***To our children's children's children***' {The Moody Blues}).

Natural selection is sometimes seen as merely a tautology as it seems to be a theory that explains the flourishing of some species (and not others) in terms that they have the qualities to flourish! But this is to examine the wrong level of explanation. Natural selection explains in general terms why it is that in a particular environment competing species will tend to survive and leave offspring to different extents. (Then within that general framework, specific arguments have to be made about why particular features or behaviours contribute to differential fitness in that ecological context.)

Particular evolved behaviours may be labelled as 'strategies' by analogy with human strategies, but this is purely a metaphor: the animal is following instincts, or sometimes learned behaviours, but is not generally following a consciously considered plan intended to lead to some desired outcome in the longer term.

But a reader is likely to read about a nestling being "in danger of being seized by mistake by its own parents" as the birds themselves making a mistake – which implies they have a deliberate plan to catch food, while excluding their own offspring from the food category, and so intended to avoid treating their offspring as prey. That is, it is implied that birds of prey are looking to avoid eating their own, but get it wrong.

Yet, surely, birds are behaving instinctively, and not conceptualising their hunting as a means of acquiring nutrition, where they should discriminate between admissible prey and young relatives. Again this seems to be anthropomorphism as it treats non-human animals as if their have mental experiences and thought processes akin to humans: "I did not mean to eat my child, I just failed to recognise her, and so made a mistake".

The protected area is sought out

Similarly, the songbirds also behave instinctively. They surely do not 'seek out' the 'protected' area around the nest of a bird of prey. There must be a sense in which they 'learn' (over many generations, perhaps) that they need not fear the raptors when they are near their own nests but it seems unlikely a songbird conceptualises any of this in a way that allows them to deliberately (that is, with deliberation) seek out the neutral zone.

In terms of natural selection, a songbird that has no fear of raptors and so does not seek to avoid or hide or flee from them would likely be at a disadvantage, and so tend to leave less offspring. Similarly, a songbird that usually avoided birds of prey, but nested in the neutral zone, would have a fitness advantage if other predators (small cats say) kept clear of the area. The bird would not have to think "hey, I know raptors are generally a hazard, but I'll be okay here as I'm close enough to be in the zone where they do not hunt", as long as the behaviour was heritable (and there was initially variation in the extent to which individuals behaved that way) – as natural selection would automatically lead to it becoming common behaviour.

(In principle, the bird could be responding to some cue in the environment that was a reliable but indirect indicator they were near a raptor nesting site. For example, perhaps building a nest very close to a location where there is a regular depositing of small bones on the ground gives an advantage, so this behaviour increases fitness and so is 'selected'.)

Under the protection of the big predator

Why are the songbirds under the protection of the raptors? Perhaps because other potential predators do not come into the neutral zone as they are vulnerable when approaching this area, even if they would be safe once inside. Again, if this is so, it surely does not reflect a conscious conceptualisation of the neutral zone.

For example, a cat that preys on small birds would experience a different 'unwelt' from the bird. A small songbird with a nest where it has young experiences the surrounding space differently to a cat (already a larger animal so experiencing the world at a different scale) that ranges over a substantial territory. Perhaps the songbird perceives the neutral zone as a distinct space, whereas to the cat it is simply an undistinguished part of a wider area where the raptors are regularly seen.

Or, perhaps, for the smaller predator, the area around the neutral zone offers too little cover to risk venturing into the zone. (Again, this does not mean a conscious thinking process along the lines "I'd be safe once I was over there, but I'm not sure I'd make it there as I could easily be seen moving between here and there", but could just be an inherited tendency to keep under cover.)

The birds of prey themselves will not take the songbirds, so the smaller birds are protected from them in the zone, but if this is simply an evolved mechanism that prevents accidental 'infanticide' this can hardly be considered as other birds being under the protection of the birds of prey. Perhaps the birds of prey do scare away other predators – but, if so, this is in no sense a desired outcome of a deliberate policy adopted by the birds of prey because they want to protect their more vulnerable neighbours.

One could understand how the birds of prey might hypothetically have evolved behaviour of not preying on smaller birds (which might include their own offspring) near their nest, but would still attack smaller predators that might threaten their own chicks. In that scenario ², the birds of prey might have indeed protected nearby songbirds from potential predators (even if only incidentally), but this does not apply if, as Uexküll suggests, "they seize no prey at all" in the neutral zone.

Again the, 'under the protection of the big predator' seems to anthropomorphise the situation and treat the birds of prey as if they are acting deliberately to protect songbirds, and so this phrasing needs to be understood metaphorically.

Does language matter?

Uexküll's phrasing offers an engaging narrative which aids in the communication of the idea of the neutral zone to his readers. (He is skilled in making the unfamiliar familiar.) It is easier to understand an abstract idea if it seems to reflect a clear purpose or it can be understood in terms of human ways of thinking and acting, for example:

it is important to keep your children safe
it is good to look out for your neighbours

But we know that science learners readily tend to accept explanations that are teleological and/or anthropomorphic, and that sometimes (at least) this acts as an impediment to learning the scientific accounts based on natural principles and mechanisms.

Therefore it is useful for science teachers in particular to be alert to such language so they can at least check that learners are seeing beyond the metaphor and not mistaking a good story for a scientific account.