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 bondingInternational 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


Making molecular mechanisms familiar

A reflection on the pedagogy in Andrew Scott's 'Vital Principles'


Keith S. Taber



Andrew Scott's introduction to the chemistry of the cell is populated by a diverse cast of characters, including ballot machines, beads; blind engineers and blind-folded art-seekers; builders and breaker's yards; cars, freight vehicles and boats; Christmas shoppers, dancers; gatecrashers (despite gatekeepers) and their hosts; invaders, jack-in-the-boxes, legal summonses, light bulbs, mixing bowls, maelstroms, music tapes, office blocks; oceans, seas, rivers, streams, floods and pools; skeletons and their bones, split personalities, springs; sorting offices and postal systems; turnstiles, the water cycle, water wheels, ropes, pulleys and pumps; work benches and work stations; and weeding and seaweed forests.


Scott, A. (1988). Vital Principles. The molecular mechanisms of life. Basil Blackwell.


The task of the popular science writer

This piece is not a formal review of, what is, now, hardly a recent title 1, but a reflection on an example of a science book aimed at – not a specific level of student, but – a more general audience. The author of a 'popular science book' has both a key advantage over the author of many science textbooks, and a challenge. The advantage is being able to define your own topic – deciding what you wish to cover and in how much detail. By contrast, a textbook author, certainly at a level related to formal national examination courses, has to 'cover' the specified material. 2

However the textbook author has the advantage of being able to rely on a fairly well defined model of the expected background of the readership. 3 Students taking 'A level' physics (for example) will be expected to have already covered a certain range of material at a known level through science teaching at school ('G.C.S.E. level') and to have also demonstrated a high level of competence against the school maths curriculum. This is important because human learning is incremental, and interpretive, and so iterative: we can only take in a certain amount of new material at any time, and we make sense of it in terms of our pool of existing interpretative resources (past learning and experiences, etc.) 4


The teacher or textbook author designs their presentation of material based on a mental model of the interpretive resources (e.g., prerequisite learning, familiar cultural referents that may be useful in making analogies or similes, etc.) available to, and likely to be activated in the mind of, the learner when engaging with the presentation.


So, the science teacher works with a model of the thinking of the students, so as to pitch material in manageable learning quanta, that should relate to the prior learning. The teacher's mental model can never be perfect, and consequently teaching-learning often fails (so the good teacher becomes a 'learning doctor' diagnosing where things have gone wrong). However, at least the teacher has a solid starting point, when teaching 11 year olds, or 15 year olds, or new undergraduates, or whatever.

The textbook author shares this, but the popular science author has a potential readership of all ages and nationalities and levels of background in the subject. Presumably the reader has some level of interest in the topic (always helpful to support engagement) but beyond that…

Now the role of the science communicator – be they research scientist with a general audience, teacher, lecturer, textbook author, journalist, documentary producer, or popular science author – is to make what is currently unfamiliar to the learner into something familiar. The teacher needs to make sure the learners both have the prerequisite background for new teaching and appreciate how the new material relates to and builds upon it. Even then, they will often rely on other techniques to make the unfamiliar familiar – such as offfering analogies and similes, anthropomorphism, narratives, models, and so forth.

Read about making the unfamiliar familiar

As the popular science writer does not know about the background knowledge and understanding of her readers, and, indeed, this is likely to be extremely varied across the readership, she has to reply more on these pedagogic tactics. Or rather, a subset of these ways of making the unfamiliar familiar (as the teacher can use gestures, and computer animations, and physical models; and even get the class to role-play, say, electrons moving through a circuit, or proteins binding to enzymes). Thus, popular science books abound with analogies, similes, metaphors and the like – offering links between abstract scientific concepts, and what (the author anticipates) are phenomena or ideas familiar to readers from everyday life. In this regard, Andrew Scott does not disappoint.

Andrew Scott

Scott's website tells us he has a B.Sc. in biochemistry from Edinburgh, and a Ph.D. from Cambridge in chemistry, and that he has produced "science journalism published by academic publishers, newspapers, magazines and websites", and he is an "author of books translated into many languages". I have not read his other books (yet), but thought that Vital Principles did a good job of covering a great deal of complex material – basically biochemistry. It was fairly introductory (so I doubt much could be considered outdated) but nonetheless tackled a challenging and complex topic for someone coming to the book with limited background.

I had a few quibbles with some specific points made – mainly relating to the treatment of underpinning physics and chemistry 5 – but generally enjoyed the text and thinking about the various comparisons the author made in order to help make the unfamiliar familiar to his readership.

Metaphors for molecular mechanisms

Andrew Scott's introduction to the chemistry of the cell is populated by a diverse cast of characters, including ballot machines, beads; blind engineers and blind-folded art-seekers; builders and breaker's yards; cars, freight vehicles and boats; Christmas shoppers, dancers; gatecrashers (despite gatekeepers) and their hosts; invaders, jack-in-the-boxes, legal summonses, light bulbs, mixing bowls, maelstroms, music tapes, office blocks; oceans, seas, rivers, streams, floods and pools; skeletons and their bones, split personalities, springs; sorting offices and postal systems; turnstiles, the water cycle, water wheels, ropes, pulleys and pumps; work benches and work stations; and weeding and seaweed forests.

A wide range of metaphors are found in the book. Some are so ubiquitous in popular science discourse that it may be objected they are not really metaphors at all. So, do "… 'chloroplasts'…trap the energy of sunlight…"? This is a simplification of course (and Scott does go into some detail of the process), but does photosynthesis actually 'trap' the energy of sunlight? That is, is this just a simplification, or is it a figurative use of language? Scott is well aware that energy is not a concept it is easy to fully appreciate,

"Energy is really an idea invented by mankind, rather than some definite thing…

energy can be thought of as some sort of 'force resistance' or 'antiforce' able to counteract the pushes or pulls of the fundamental forces."

pp.25-26

But considerable ingenuity has been used in making the biochemistry of the cell familiar through metaphor:

  • lipids "have split personalities" (and they have 'heads' and 'tails' of course)
  • proteins can "float around within a sea of lipid"
  • proteins are "the molecular workers"
  • the inside of cells can be a "seething 'metabolite pool' – a maelstrom of molecules"; "a swirling sea of chemical activity…the seething sea of metabolism" (so, some appealing alliteration, as well, here 6);
  • the molecules of the cell cytosol are "dancing"
  • "...small compressed springs of ATP, can be used to jack up the chemistry of the cell…"
  • "…thermal motion turns much of the chemical microworld into a molecular mixing bowl."
  • "The membranes of living cells…form a boundary to all cells, and they cordon off specific regions within a cell into distinct organelles."
  • "Some of these gatecrashers within other cells would then have slowly evolved into the mitochondria and chloroplasts of present-day life..."
  • "the 'Ca2+ channels' to open up, this causes Ca2+ ions to flood into the cell …"
  • "the 'ribosomes' … are the chemical automatons"

The figurative flavour of the author's language is established early in the book,

"In a feat of stunning self-regulating choreography, billions of atoms, molecules and ions become a part of the frantic dance we call life. Each revolution of our planet in its stellar spotlight raises a little bit of the dust of earth into the dance of life, while a little bit of the life crumbles back into dust."

p.1

Phew – there is quite a lot going on there. Life is a dance, moreover a frantic dance, of molecular level particles: but not some random dance (though it relies on molecular motion that is said to be a random dance, p.42), rather one that is choreographed, indeed, self-choreographed. Life has agency. It is a dance that is in some sense powered by the revolution of the earth (abound its axis? around its star?) which somehow involves the cycling of dust into, and back out, of life – dust to dust. The reference to a stellar spotlight seems at odds with the Sun as symmetrically radiating in all directions out into the cosmos – the earth moves through that radiation field, but could not escape it by changing orbit. Perhaps this image is meant to refer to how the daily rotation of the earth brings its surface into, and out of, illumination.

So, there is not a spotlight in any literal, sense (the reference to "the central high energy furnace", p.39, is perhaps a more accurate metaphor), but the 'stellar spotlight' is a metaphor that offers a sense of changing illumination.

Similarly, the choreographed dance is metaphorical. Obviously molecules do not dance (a deliberate form of expression), but this gives an impression of the molecular movement within living things. That movement is not choreographed in the sense of something designed by a creator. But something has led to the apparently chaotic movements of billions of molecules and ions, of different kinds, giving rise to highly organised complex entities (organisms) emerging from all this activity. Perhaps we should think of one of those overblown, heavily populated, dance sequences in Hollywood films of the mid 20th century (e.g., as lampooned in Mel Brook's Oscar winning 'The Directors')?

So, in Vital Principles, Scott seeks to make the abstract and complex ideas of science seem familiar through metaphors that can offer a feel for the basic ideas of biochemistry. The use of metaphor in science teaching and other forms of science communication is a well established technique.

Read about science metaphors


Nature and nurture

Later in the book a reader will find that the metaphorical choreographer is natural selection, and natural selection is just the tautological selection of what can best reproduce itself in the environment in which it exists,

"…the brute and blind force of natural selection can be relied upon to weed out the harmful mutations and nurture the beneficial ones. We must always remember, however, that the criterion by which natural selection judges mutations as harmful or beneficial is simply the effect of the mutations on an organism's ability to pass its genetic information on to future generations."

p.182

So, natural selection is a force which is brute and blind (more metaphors) and is able to either weed out (yes, another metaphor) or nurture. That is an interesting choice of term given the popular (but misleadingly over-simplistic) contrast often made in everyday discourse between 'nature' (in the sense of genetics) and 'nurture' (in the sense of environmental conditions). Although natural selection is 'blind', it is said to be able to make judgements.

Form and function in biology

Here we enter one of the major issues in teaching about biology: at one level, that of a naturalistic explanation 7, there is no purpose in life: and anatomical structures, biochemical processes, even instinctive behaviours, have no purpose – they just are; and because they were components of complexes of features that were replicated, they have survived (and have 'survival value').

Yet, it seems so obvious that legs are for walking, eyes are for seeing, and the heart's function is to pump blood around the body. A purist would deny each of these (strictly these suggestions are teleological) and replace each simple statement with a formally worded paragraph completely excluding any reference to, or hint at, purpose.

So, although it seems quite natural to write

"…hormones… are released from one cell to influence the activity of other cells;

…neurotransmitters…are released from nerve cells to transmit a nerve impulse…"

pp.120-121

we might ask: is this misleading?

One could argue that in this area of science we are working with a model which is founded on the theory of natural selection and which posits the evolved features of anatomy, physiology, biochemistry,etc., that increase fitness are analogous to designed and purposeful features that support the project of the continuation of life.

Something that scientists are very quick to deny (that organisms have been designed with purposes in mind) is nevertheless the basis of a useful analogy (i.e., we can consider the organism as if a kind of designed system that has coordinated component parts that each have roles in maintaining the 'living' status of the overall system). We then get the economy of language where

  • hormones and neurotransmitters are released for 'this' purpose, to carry out 'that' function;

being selected (!) over

  • more abstract and complex descriptions of how certain patterns of activity are retained because they are indirectly selected for along with the wider system they are embedded in.

Do scientists sometimes forget they are working with a model or analogy here? I expect so. Do learners appreciate that the 'functions' of organs and molecules in the living thing are only figurative in this sense? Perhaps, sometimes, but – surely -more often, not; and this probably both contributes to, and is encouraged by, the known learning demand of appreciating the "blind [nature of the] force of natural selection".

Scott refers to proteins having a particular task (language which suggests purpose and perhaps design) whilst being clear he is only referring to the outcomes of physical interactions,

"A protein folds up into a conformation which is determined by its amino acid sequence, and which presents to the environment around it a chemical surface which allows the protein to perform its particular chemical task; and the folding and the performance of the task (and, indeed, the creation of the protein in the first place) all proceed automatically governed only by physical laws and forces of nature – particularly the electromagnetic force."

pp.54-55

In practice, biologists and medical scientists – and indeed the rest of us – find it much more convenient to understand organisms in terms of form and function. That is fine if you always keep in mind that natural selection only judges mutations metaphorically. Natural selection is not the kind of entity which can make a judgement, but it is a process that we can conceptualise as if it makes judgements.

This is a difficult balancing act:

"Nature is a blind but a supremely effective engineer. Through the agency of undirected mutation she continually adjusts the structure and the mechanisms of the living things on earth."

p.182

Nature is here treated as if a person: she is an engineer tinkering with her mechanisms. Personification of nature is a long-standing trope, once common among philosophers and not always eschewed by scientists in their writings (e.g., Nicolaus Copernicus, Henri Poincaré, Michael Faraday, even Albert Einstein have personified Nature) – and she is always female.

But usually a competent engineer tinkers according to a plan, or at least with a purpose in mind, whereas nature's tinkering is here described as 'undirected' – it is like she arbitrarily changes the size of a gear or modifies the steam pressure in a cylinder or changes the number of wheels on the locomotive, and then tinkers some more with those that stay on the tracks and manage to keep moving.

Read about personification in science

"All proteins begin life…"

Anthropomorphism: living metaphors

Personification (by referring to her, she, etc.) is not needed to imply entities have some human traits. Indeed, a very common pedagogic technique used when explaining science, anthropomorphism, is to use a kind of metaphorical language which treats inanimate objects or non-human beings as if they are people – as if they can feel, and think, and plan, and desire; and so forth.

  • "Once an enzyme had met and captured the required starting materials …"
  • "Some [non-protein metabolites] act as 'coenzymes', which becomes bound to enzymes and help them to perform their catalytic tasks."
  • "Cells, which had previously been aggressively independent individualists, discovered the advantages of communal life."
  • "descendants of cells which took up residence within other cells and then became so dependent on their hosts, and also so useful to them, that neither hosts nor gatecrashers could afford to live apart."

So, for example, plants are living beings, but do not have a central nervous system and do not experience and reflect on life as people do: so, they do not wish for things,

"…the oxidation of sugars, is also performed by plants when they wish to convert some of their energy stores (largely held in the form of complex carbohydrates) back into ATP."

p.144

Again, such phrasing offers economy of language. Plants do not wish, but any technically correct statement would likely be more complicated and so, arguably, more difficult to appreciate.

Dead metaphors

A key issue in discussing metaphors is that in many cases different readers are likely to disagree over whether a term is indeed being used figuratively or literally. Language is fluid (metaphorically speaking), and a major way language grows is where the need for new terms (to denote newly invented artefacts or newly discovered phenomena) is satisfied by offering an existing term as a metaphor. Often, in time the metaphor becomes adopted as standard usage – so, no longer a metaphor. These examples are sometimes called dead metaphors (or clichéd metaphors). So, for example, at some point, many decades ago, astronomers started to talk of the 'life cycle' of stars which have a moment of 'birth' and eventual 'death'. These metaphors have become so established they are now treated as formal terms in the language of the discipline, regularly used in academic papers as well as more general discourse (see 'The passing of stars: Birth, death, and afterlife in the universe').

So, when Scott writes of "how some micro-organism, say a virus, invades the body…"(p.109) it is very likely most readers will not notice 'invade' as being a metaphor, as this usage is widely used and so probably familiar. The (former?) metaphor is extended to describe selective immune components "binding to foreign invaders [that] can act as a very effective means of defence against disease." These terms are very widely used in discussing infections: though of course there are substantive differences, as well as similarities, with when a country defends itself against actual foreign invaders.

I suspect that considering the lipid bilayer to be "a stable sandwich of two layers of lipid molecules" (p.115) is for many, a dead metaphor. The reference to a DNA double-helix leading to"two daughter double-helices" reflects how atomic nuclei and cells are said to give rise to 'daughters' on fission: again terminology that has become standard in the field.

Sharing a psuedo-explanation for covalent bonding

One phrase that seems to have become a dead metaphor is the notion of electrons being 'shared' in molecules, which "…are formed when their constituent atoms come together to leave at least some of their electrons shared between them" (pp.28-29). Whilst this seems harmless as a description of the structure, it is also used as an explanation of the bonding:

"'hydrogen molecules and water molecules (and all other molecules) are held together by virtue of the fact that electrons are shared between the individual atoms involved, a similarity recognised by saying that in such cases the atoms are held together by 'covalent' bonds.

p.29

But we might ask: How does 'sharing' a pair of electrons explain the molecule being 'held together'? Perhaps a couple with a strained relationship might be held together by sharing a house; or two schools in a confederation by sharing a playing field; or two scuba divers might be held together if the breathing equipment of one had failed so that they only had one functioning oxygen cylinder shared between them?

In these examples, there is of course a sense of ownership involved. Atoms do not 'own' 'their' electrons: the only bonds are electromagnetic; not legal or moral. This may seem so obvious it does not deserve noting: but some learners do come to think that the electrons are owned by specific atoms, and therefore can be given, borrowed, stolen, and so forth, but should ultimately return to their 'own' atom! So, if we acknowledge that there is no ownership of electrons, then what does it even mean for atoms to 'share' them?

So, why would two atoms, each with an electron, become bound by pooling these resources? (Would sharing two houses keep our couple with a strained relationship together; or just offer them a ready way to separate?) The metaphor does not seem to help us understand, but the notion of a covalent bond as a shared electron pair is so well-established that the description commonly slips into an explanation without the explainer noticing it is only a pseudo-explanation (a statement that has the form of an explanation but does not explain anything, e.g., "a covalent bond holds two atoms together because they share a paired of electrons").

Read about types of pseudo-explanation

Elsewhere in the book Scott does explain (if still anthropomorphically) that viable reactions occur because:

"In the new configuration, in other words, the electromagnetic forces of attraction and repulsion between all the electrons and nuclei involved might be more fully satisfied, or less 'strained' than they were before the reaction took place."

p.36

How are metaphors interpreted?

The question that always comes to my mind when I see metaphorical language used in science communication, is how is this understood by the audience? Where I am reading about science that I basically understand reasonably well (and I was a science teacher for many years, so I suspect I cannot be seen a typical reader of such a book) I do reflect on the metaphors and what they are meant to convey. But that means I am often using the familiar science to think about the metaphor, whereas the purpose of the metaphor is to help someone who does not already know the science get a take on it. This leads me to two questions:

  • to what extent does the metaphor give the reader a sense of understanding the science?
  • to what extent does the metaphor support the reader in acquiring an understanding that matches the scientific account?

These are genuine questions about the (subjective and objective) effectiveness of such devices for making the science familiar. There is an interesting potential research programme there.


Shifting to similes

The difference between metaphors and similes is how they are phrased. Both make a comparison between what is being explained/discussed and something assumed to be more familiar. A metaphor describes the target notion as being the comparison (nature is an engineer), but the listener/reader is expected to realise this is meant figuratively, as a comparison. A simile makes the comparison explicit. The comparison is marked – often by the use of 'as' or 'like' as when physicist Max Planck suggested that the law of conservation of energy was "like a sacred commandment".

Read about examples of similes in science

So, when Scott refers to how proteins "act as freight vehicles transporting various chemicals around the body", and "as chemical messages which are sent from one cell to another" (p.10), these are similes.

Springs are used as similes for the interactions between molecules or ions in solids or the bonds within molecules

"…even in solids the constituent molecules and atoms and ions are constantly jostling against one another and often vibrating internally like tiny sub-microscopic springs. All chemical bonds behave a bit like tiny springs, constantly being stretched and compressed as the chemicals they are part of are jostled about by the motion of the other chemicals all around them."

p.39

[Actually the bonds in molecules or crystals are behaving like springs because of the inherent energy of the molecule or lattice: the 'jostling' can transfer energy between molecules/ions and 'springs' so that the patterns of "being stretched and compressed" change, but it is always there. The average amount of 'jostling' depends on the temperature of the material. 5]

In the way the word is usually used in English, jostling is actually due to the deliberate actions of agents – pushing through a crowd for example, so strictly jostling here can be seen as an anthropomorphic metaphor, but the intended meanings seems very clear – so, I suspect many readers will not even have noticed this was another use of figurative language.


One way of marking phrases meant as similes is putting then in inverted commas, so-called scare-quotes, as in

"A rather simple chemical 'cap', for example, is added to the start of the RNA, while a long 'tail' consisting of many copies of the nucleotide A is added to its end…The most significant modifications to the precursor, however, involve the removal of specific portions from the interior [sic] of the RNA molecule, and the joining together of the remaining portions into mature mRNA… This 'splicing' process …"

p.79

Here we have something akin to a cap, and something akin to a tail. As noted above, a difficulty in labelling terms as metaphors or similes is that language is not static, but constantly changing. In science we often see terms borrowed metaphorically from everyday life to label a technical process as being somewhat like something familiar – only for the term to become adopted within the field as a technical term. The adopted terms become literal, with a related, but somewhat different – and usually more precise – meaning in scientific discourse. (This can be the basis of one class of learning impediments as students may not realise the familiar term has specials affordances or restrictions in its technical context.)

Here 'splicing' is marked as a simile – there is a process seen as somewhat similar to how, for example, radio programmes and musical recordings used to be edited by the cutting and resequencing strips of magnetic tape. Yet gene splicing is now widely accepted as a literal use of splicing, rather than being considered figurative. [I suspect a young person who was told about, for example, the Beatles experiments with tape splicing might guess the term is used because the process is like gene splicing!]

The following quote marks a number of similes by placing them within inverted commas:

"The interior of the cell is criss-crossed by a network of structural proteins which is known as the cytoskeleton. The long protein 'bones' of this skeleton are formed by the spontaneous aggregation of many individual globular protein molecules…

Cells use many strong chemical 'pillars' and 'beams' and 'glues' and 'cements', both inside them, to hold the internal structure of cells together, and outside of them, to hold different cells together; but the electromagnetic force is the fundamental 'glue' upon which they all depend."

pp.995-6

Again the phrasing here suggests something being deliberately undertaken towards some end by an active agent (teleology): the cell uses these construction materials for a purpose.

There are various other similes offered – some marked with inverted commas, some with explicit references to being comparisons ('kind of', 'act as', 'sort of', etc.)

  • "…amino acids comprise the chemical 'alphabet' from which the story of protein-based life (i.e., all life on earth) is constructed"
  • "the endoplasmic reticulum is a kind of molecular 'sorting office'"
    • endosomes and lysomes "form a kind of intracellular digestive system and 'breaker's yard'."
    • "Proteins can act as gatekeepers of the cell…"
    • "Proteins can…act as chemical controllers"
    • proteins "can act as defensive weapons"
    • "The proteins which perform these feats are not gates, but 'pumps'..."
    • "Proteins could be described as the molecular workers which actually construct and maintain all cells…"
    • "…proteins are the molecular 'labourers' of life, while genes are the molecular 'manuals' which store the information needed to make new generations of protein labourers"
    • "Membrane proteins often float around within a sea of lipid (although they can also be 'held at anchor' in the one spot if required)"
    • "A ribosome travels down its attached mRNA, a bit like a bead running down a thread (or sometimes like a thread being pulled through a bead)..."
    • "…the 'ribosomes' – molecular 'work-benches' composed of protein and RNA…"
    • Nucleic acids "act as genetic moulds"
    • "the high energy structure of ATP really is very similar to the high energy state of a compressed spring"
    • "Some vital non-protein metabolites act as a sort of 'energy currency'…"

Advancing to analogies

Metaphors and similes point out a comparison, without detailing the nature and limits of that comparison. A key feature of an analogy is there is a 'structural mapping': that is that two systems can be represented as having analogous structural features. In practice, the use of analogy goes beyond suggesting there is a comparison, to specifying, at least to some degree, how the analogy maps onto the target.

Read about examples of analogies in science

Scott employs a number of analogies for readers. He develops the static image of the cell skeleton (met above) with its 'bones', 'pillars' and 'beams' into a dynamic scenario:

"Structural proteins are often referred to as the molecular scaffolding of life, and the analogy is quite apt since so many structural proteins are long fibres or rods; but we think of scaffolding as a static, unchanging, framework. Imagine, however, a structure built of scaffolding in which some of the scaffolding rods were able to slide past one another and then hold the whole framework in new positions."

p.96

Many good metaphors/similes may be based upon comparisons of this type, but they do not become analogies until this is set out, rather than being left to the listener/reader to deduce. For this reason, analogies are better tools to use in teaching than similes as they do not rely on the learners inferring (guessing?) what the points of comparison are intended to be. 8

So, Scott offers the simile of molecules released as 'messengers', but then locates this in the analogy of the postal system, before using another analogy to specify the kind of message being communicated,

"Cells achieve such chemical communication in various ways, but the most vital way is by releasing chemical 'messenger' molecules (the biological equivalent of the postal system, if you like analogies), and many of these messengers are either proteins, or small fragments of proteins."

"A biological messenger molecular is more like a legal summons than a friendly note or some junk mail advertisement – it commands the target cell to react in a precise way to the arrival of the message."

pp.102-103


In the following analogy the mapping is very clear:

"One gene occupies one region of a chromosome containing many genes, much like one song occupies one region of a music tape containing many songs overall."

p.7

Song on music tape is to gene on chromosome


For an analogy to be explicit the mapping between target and analogue must be clear, as here, where Scott spells out how workstations on a production line map onto enzymes,

"The production line analogy is a very good one. The individual 'work stations' are the enzymes, and at these molecular work stations various chemical components are brought together and fashioned into some new component of product. The product of one enzyme can then pass down the line, to become the substrate of the next enzyme, and so on until the pathway is complete."

p.147

Some analogies offer a fairly basic mapping between relatively simple systems:

"If there is lots of A around in the cell, for example, then the rate at which A tends to meet up with enzyme EAB will obviously increase (just as an increase in the number of people you happen to know entering a fairground will increase the chances of you meeting up with someone you know)."

p.150
fairgroundcell
people at a fairgroundmolecules in the cytosol
you at the fairgrounda specific enzyme in the cytosol
people entering the fairground that know you personallymolecules of a type that binds to the specific enzyme
chance of you meeting someone you knowrate of collision between enzyme and the specific molecules it binds to

An analogy with a vote counting machine


Scott compares a nerve cell, the activity of each of which is influenced by a large number of 'input' signals, to a ballot counting machine,

"…most nerve cells receive inputs, in the form of neurotransmitters, from many different cells, so the 'decision' about whether or not the cell should fire depends on the net effect of all the different inputs, some of which will be excitatory, and some inhibitory, with the pattern of input perhaps varying all the time.

So any single nerve cells acts like an [sic] tiny automatic ballot machine, assessing the number of 'yes' and 'no' votes entering it at any one time and either firing or not firing depending on which type of vote predominates at any one time.

…Nerve cells receive electrochemical signals from other cells, and each signal represents a 'yes' or a 'no' vote in an election to determine whether the cell should fire."

pp.166-8


Turnstiles in Alewife station, image from Wikimedia Commons (GNU Free Documentation License)

Scott uses the image of a turnstile, a device that blocks entry unless triggered by a coin or ticket, and which automatically locks once a person has passed through, as a familiar analogue for an ion channel into a cell. The mapping is not spelt out in detail, but should be clear to anyone familiar with turnstiles of this kind,

"When it is sitting in a polarised membrane, this protein is in a conformational state in which it is unable to allow any ions to pass through the cell. When the membrane around it becomes depolarised, however, the protein undergoes a conformational change which causes it briefly to form a channel through which Na+ ions can pass. The channel only remains open for a short time, however, since the conformational upheaval [sic] of the protein continues until it adopts a new conformation in which the passage of Na+ ions is once again blocked. The overall effect of this conformational change is a bit like the operation of a turnstile – it moves from one conformation which prevents anything from passing, into a new conformation which also prevents anything from passing, but in the process of changing from one conformation to another there is a brief period during which a channel allowing passage through is opened up."

p.163

An analogy between a sodium ion channel in a membrane, and a turnstile of the kind sometimes used to give entry to a sporting ground or transport system.


Whether there is an absolute distinction between metaphors/similes and analogies in practice can be debated. So, for example, Scott goes beyond simply suggesting that the nanoscale of molecules is like a mixing bowl, but does not offer a simple mapping between systems,

"Thermal motion turns much of the chemical microworld into a 'molecular mixing bowl' … So the solution of the cytosol acts as an all pervading chemical sea in which many of the chemicals of life are mixed together by random thermal motion as if in a molecular mixing bowl."

p.40

We could see the ocean as a simile (marked by 'acts as an') and the mixing bowl as another (marked by the scare quotes, and then 'as if in a') – but there is a partial mapping with a macroscopic mixing bowl: we are told (i) what is mixed, and (ii) the agent that mixes at the molecular scale, but it is assumed that we already know these should map to (i) the ingredients of a dish being mixed by (ii) a cook.

In places, then, Scott seems to rely on his readers to map features of analogies themselves. For example, in the following (where "The chaos of a large department store on Christmas Eve, or during the January sales, is a reasonable analogy [for the cell, as] there is order and logic within a scene of frantic and often seemingly chaotic activity"), the general point about scale was well made, but (for this reader, at least) the precise mapping remained obscure,

"The frantic chaos of chemistry proceeds too fast and too remotely for us to follow it without great difficulty. We are in the position of airborne observers who see trainloads of shoppers flowing into the city on Christmas Eve morning, and trainloads of the same shoppers laden with purchases flowing back to the suburbs in the evening. From the air we can see the overall effect of suburban shoppers 'reacting' with the shops full of goods, but we remain unaware of the hidden random chaos which allows the reaction to proceed!

p.44

Perhaps other readers immediately see this, but I am not sure what the shoppers are: molecules? but then they are unchanged by reactions? As they flow together into and out of the city (cell?) they could be ions in a nerve cell, but then what are the purchases they carry away (and have they paid for them in energy)? What are the trains? (ion channels? ribosomes?) What are the shops (mitochondria)? Perhaps I am trying to over-interpret an image that is not meant to be specific – but elsewhere Scott seems to have designed his analogies carefully to have specific mappings.


A reference to "a cofactor called 'heme' which actually acts as the chemical vessel on which the oxygen is carried"seems, by itself to be a metaphor, but when read in the context of text that precedes it, seems part of a more developed analogy:

"The most obvious system of bulk transport in the human body is the blood, which flows through our arteries, capillaries and veins like a 'river of life', bringing chemical raw materials (oxygen, water and food) to every cell of the body, and taking waste products away. Within this bulk system, however, the actual job of transporting specific substances is sometimes performed by small 'freighters' such as individual blood cells and even individual protein molecules."

p.98

The precise form of transport acting as an analogue shifts when the discussion shifts from the transport process itself to what I might refer to as the loading and unloading of the 'freighter',

"So the binding of one oxygen molecule to one subunit of an empty [sic] haemoglobin complex greatly encourages the binding of oxygen to the other three available sites. This makes the multi-subunit haemoglobin complex a bit like a four-seater car in which the first person into the car unlocks the door for another three passengers. The crucial step in loading the car is getting the first person in, after which the first person helps all the others to climb aboard.

An opposite effect occurs when loaded haemoglobin reaches a tissue in need of oxygen: the loss of one oxygen molecule from one subunit causes a conformational change in the complex which allows the other three oxygen molecules to be off-loaded much more readily. A suitable analogy to this would be an unstable four-man boat, since, if one man jumps overboard, he may rock the boat sufficiently to make the other three fall out!"

pp.100-101

Why is a child like an office block?

Child is to zygote as office building is to light bulb? (Images from Pixabay)


Scott compares the development of the child from a single cell with a self-assembling office block,

"When a human egg cell begins to divide and create a newborn child it achieves an enlargement equivalent to a lightbulb giving rise to a massive office block 250 metres high; which then, over the next 15 years or so, stretches and widens to an astounding 1,000 metres in height and nearly 250 metres across. In the 'office block' that is you all the plumbing, heating, lighting, telecommunication and ventilation systems were assembled automatically and work together smoothly to sustain a bewildering diversity of very different 'suites' and 'offices'.

p.4

Scott later revisits his office analogy, though now the building is not the growing organism, but just a single cell (one of the 'offices' from the earlier analogy?),

"Cells are not stable and unchanging structures like office blocks. Instead, most parts of a cell are in a state of continual demolition and renewal, known as 'metabolic turnover'. Imagine an office block in which a large team of builders is constantly moving through, knocking down existing walls and using the bricks to build up new ones; ripping apart the furniture and then reassembling it into new forms; peeling off wallpaper, then using it as the raw material to produce new paper which is then put back up again; and all the time some new materials are arriving through the door, to assist in the continual rebuilding, while some of the older materials are constantly being discarded out of the windows. The living cells is in a very similar siltation, with teams of enzymes constantly ripping down the structure of the cell while other teams of enzymes build it up.

Life in the office block imagined earlier might sometimes be a little difficult and chaotic, but at least when change was required it could be brought about quickly, since the necessary tradesmen and supplies would always be on hand; and any mistakes made during the building process could always quickly be put right. Metabolic turnover bestows similar advantages on the living cell."

pp.118-119

The reference to 'teams' of enzymes is another subtle anthropomorphic metaphor. Those in a team are conscious of team membership and coordinate their activities towards a common goal – or at least that is the ideal. Enzymes may seem to be working together, but that is a just a slant we put on processes. Presumably the two sets of teams of enzymes (a catabolic set and an anabolic set) map onto the large team of builders – albeit the enzymes seem to be organised into more specialised working teams than the builders.


Some of Scott's prose, then, combines different ways of making the science familiar, as when he tells the reader

"Water, in other words, is the solvent of life, meaning that it is the liquid which permeates into all the nooks and crannies of the cell and in which all the chemical reactions of life take place. There are various small regions of the cell from which water is excluded, especially within the interior of some large molecules; but the chemistry of life largely proceeds in an ocean of water. It is not a clear ocean – thousands of different types of chemical are dissolved in it, and it is criss-crossed by a dense tangle of giant molecules which form 'fibres' or 'cables' or 'scaffolding' throughout the cell. Swimming through the cell 'cytosol' (the internal 'fluid' of the cell) would be like struggling through a dense underwater forest of seaweed, or through a thick paste or jelly, rather than darting though clear ocean."

p.6

On the molecular level, the water inside of a cell is "an ocean" (a metaphor), which can access the "nooks and crannies of the cell" (a metaphor). The ocean is interrupted by "giant molecules which form 'fibres' or 'cables' or 'scaffolding'…" These terms seem to be used as similes, marked by the use of inverted commas, although Scott also uses this convention to introduce new terms – 'cytosol' is not a simile. Presumably 'fluid' (marked by inverted commas) is being used as a simile as the cytosol is not a pure liquid, but a complex solution.

[The quote implies that "It is not a clear ocean – [as/because] thousands of different types of chemical are dissolved in it", but dissolved solutes would not stop a solution being clear: the actual ocean is very salty, with many different types of ions dissolved in it, but can be clear. Lack of transparency would be due to material suspended, but not actually dissolved, in the water.]

If this is a metaphorical ocean, it is an ocean that would be difficult to swim in, as the tangle of giant molecules is analogous to "a dense underwater forest of seaweed" so it would be like swimming trough "a thick paste or jelly".


The water cycle of life

Perhaps the pièce de résistance in terms of an analogy adopted in the book was the use of a comparison between metabolism and the water cycle,

"I have drawn an analogy between the creation of living things containing many high energy chemicals (i.e. those in which the electromagnetic force is resisted much more than it could be), and the raising water vapour from the sea into the sky. We can continue with this analogy as we look deeper into the energetics of the living cell."

pp.126-127

Scott does indeed develop the analogy, as can be seen from the quotations parsed into the table below:

target conceptanalogue
"…thermodynamic law determines that the energy of the sun must disperse out to the earth and raise the energy level of the things that are found there.
The raw materials of life are some of the things that are found there, and the energy from the sun raises these raw materials up into the higher energy levels associated with organised life,
just as
it raises water up into the sky and deposits some of it in tidy little mountain pools."
"…I have drawn an analogy between
the creation of living things containing many high energy chemicals…
and
the raising water vapour from the sea into the sky."
"The raising of water to the skies is not an isolated and irreversible event, but part of a cycle in which the water eventually loses the energy gained from the sun and returns to the earth as rain, only to absorb some more energy and be lifted up once more, and so on…
Similarly, of course,
the creation of a living being such as yourself is not an isolated and irreversible event, but is part of a cycle of life and death, of growth and decay…"
"If we look inside the chemical mechanisms of the living cell we find that they can harness the energy available in the environment, most of which ultimately comes from the sun,
in a manner similar to
the [person] who has built a water wheel, a pump, a reservoir and many secondary wheels used to power many different tasks…."
"In living things
the roles of
the water-wheels and pumps
are played by
various systems of proteins and membranes,
whilst
the the most common immediate energy reservoir is a chemical known as 'adenosine triphosphate' (ATP).
ATP is the cell's
equivalent of
water stored in a high level reservoir or a tank
because
it takes an energy input to make it, while energy is given out when it breaks apart into ADP and phosphate."
"The considerable resistance to the electromagnetic force embodied in the structure of ATP imposes a strain on the ATP molecule.
It is like
the compressed spring of a jack-in-the-box just waiting to be released;
and when it is released in some appropriate chemical reaction, then the energy level of the molecule falls as it splits up into ADP and phosphate.
Just as the force of water falling from a high gravitational energy level to a lower one can be harnessed to make various energy-requiring processes proceed,
so
the force of an ATP molecule falling from a high chemical energy level to a lower one can be harnessed to make a wide variety of energy-requiring chemical reactions proceed…"
"The ATP manufacturing enzyme
is closely analogous to
a water-wheel,
for
as the hydrogen ions are allowed to flow back through the enzyme,
just as
water flows over a water-wheel,
so
the ensuing chemical reactions 'lift up' the precursors of ATP into their high energy ATP state."
"The principle of such energy coupling
can be understood by the simple analogy of
the water flowing downhill over a water-wheel, and thus serving to turn the wheel and, for example, raise some weight from the ground using a pulley."
"These proteins are the molecular machines
which take the place of
the water-wheels and ropes and pulleys which can couple the falling of water down a mountainside to the lifting of some weight beside the stream"
An extended analogy between two systems

Whether this should be seen as one extended analogy, or more strictly as several, somewhat distinct but related, comparisons is moot, as becomes clear when trying to map out the different features. My best attempt involved some duplication and ambiguity. (Hint to all designers of teaching analogies – map them out as parallel concept maps to help you visualise and keep track of the points being made.)


An analogy (or set of analogies) between biological/biochemical and physical systems


Visualisation – mental simulation

Teaching analogies usually link to what is expected to be (for the members of the audience) a familiar situation, experience, or phenomenon. Readers will be familiar with an office block, or swimming in water.

However, it is also possible for the science communicator to set up an analogy based on a scenario which is unlikely to be familiar, but which can be readily imagined by the reader.

"To appreciate the power of random motion to bring about seemingly purposeful change, imagine a room full of blindfolded people all instructed to walk about at random 'bouncing' off the walls and one another. Imagine also that they have been told to stop moving only when they bump into a small picture hanging from a wall. Finally, suppose that all the pictures are hung in a second room, linked to the room full of people by a narrow open doorway…"

p.40

Few if any readers will have been familiar with this scenario, but the components – groups of people in rooms, blindfolding, adjoining rooms, pictures hung on walls – are all familiar and there is nothing inherently problematic about the scenario even it does not seem very likely. So, here the reader has to build up the analogy from a number of familiar but distinct images.

So, we might consider this a kind of 'gedankenexperiment' or thought experiment – the reader is prompted to consider what would happen if…(and then to transfer what would happen to the target system at the molecular scale). Perhaps some readers immediately 'see' (intuit) what happens in this situation, but otherwise they can 'run' a mental simulation to find out – a technique scientists themselves have used (if probably not regarding blindfolded people in picture galleries).

Analogies only reflect some aspects of the target being compared. The features that map unproblematically are known as the positive analogy, but there is usually a negative analogy as well: features that do not match, and so which would be misleading if carried across. Realistically, the negative analogy will usually have more content than the positive analogy, although much of the negative analogy will be so obviously irrelevant that it is unlikely to confuse anyone.

So, for example, in the analogy the blindfolded people will be wearing clothes, may exchange apologies (or curses) on bumping into each other, and will likely end up bruised – and human nature being what it is, some may cheat by sneaking a look past the edge of the blindfold – but no reader is likely to think these are features that transfer across to the target! Perhaps, however, a reader might wonder if the molecules, like the blindfolded people, are drawing on a source of energy to keep up the activity, and would tire eventually?

There are some other potentially more problematic aspects of the negative analogy. In the thought experiment, the people have been given instructions about what to do, and when to stop, and are acting deliberately. These features do not transfer across, but a reader might not realise this, and could therefore understand the analogy anthropomorphically. It is in situations like this where the teacher can seek feedback on how the analogy is being interpreted (that is, use informal formative assessment), but an author of a book loses control once the manuscript is completed.

Molecular mechanisms made familiar?

There is nothing unusual in Scott's use of metaphor, simile and analogy in seeking to help readers understand abstract scientific ideas. This is an approach common to a good deal of science communication, within and beyond formal teaching. Vital Principles offers many examples, but such devices are common in books seeking to explain science.

I did raise two questions about these techniques above. How do we know if these comparisons are effective in communicating the science? To find out, we would need to talk to readers and question them about their interpretations of the text.

In formal science teaching the focus of such research would likely be the extent to which the presentation supported a learner in acquiring a canonical understanding of the science.

However, as I suggested above, if such research concerned popular science books, we might ask whether the purpose of such books is to teach science or satisfy reader interest. Thus, above, I distinguished an objective and a subjective aspect. If a reader selected a book purely for interest, and is satisfied by what they have read – it made sense to them, and satisfied their curiosity – then does it matter if they may have not understood canonically?

When I read such texts, I wonder about both how a general readership responds to the comparisons offered by authors to make the unfamiliar familiar, and what sense the readers come away with of the science. I guess to some extent popular science authors at least get some level of feedback on the former question – if readers come back for their other titles, then they must be doing something right.

I thought Scott showed a good deal of ingenuity and craft in setting out an account of a challenging and complex area of science – but I would love to know how his different readers interpreted some of his comparisons.


Work cited:

Notes:

1 I have picked up a good many 'popular science books' over the years, but quite a few of them got put on the shelves till I had time to engage with them in any depth. Other things usually got in the way – lesson/lecture preparation being the most demanding imperative for soaking up time over my 'working' life. Retirement has finally allowed me to start going through the shelves…


2 In the English context, perhaps elsewhere, the textbook is now also often expected to not only cover the right content, but follow the examination board's line on the level of treatment, even to the degree of what is acceptable phrasing. Indeed, there are now textbooks associated with the different exam board syllabuses for the 'same' qualification (e.g., A level Chemistry). This seems very unhealthy, and come the revolution


3 The model I am referring to here is the mental model in the teacher's mind of the learner or reader – the background knowledge they have available, their existing level of understanding, the sophistication of their thinking, the range of everyday references they are familiar with which might be useful in making comparisons, their concentration span for dealing with new material or complex language …

If we think of teaching-learning as a system, many system failure (failures of students to understand teaching as intended) can be considered to be due to a mismatch – the teacher's mental model is inaccurate in ways that leads to non-optimal choices in presenting material (Taber, 2001 [Download article]).

This is the basis of the 'learning doctor' approach.

Read about Science learning doctors


4 This is the crux of the so called 'constructivist' perspective on teaching science – a perspective discussed in depth elsewhere on the site.

Read about constructivism


5 There was little in the book I really would have argued with. However, there were a few questionable statements:


"Yet this apparent miracle is completed thousands of times each day throughout the world [in humans], and similar miracles create all manner of simpler creatures, from elephants and birds and flies to bacteria and flowers and mighty oaks."

p.5

This statement seemed to reflect the long-lasting notion of nature as a 'great chain of being' with humans (in the middle of the chain, below a vast range of angelic forms, but) top of the natural world. Bacteria are simpler than humans, I would acknowledge; but I am less sure about flies; even less sure about birds; and question considering trees and other flowering plants, or elephants, as (biologically) simpler than us. This seems an anthropocentric (human-centred), rather than a scientific, take.


"…the periodic table… lists the 92 naturally occurring atoms (plus a few man-made ones) which are the basic raw materials of chemistry…"

p.19

There are clearly more than 92 naturally occurring atoms in the universe. I believe we think there are 90 naturally occurring elements. That is 90 "naturally occurring [kinds of, in the specific sense of proton number] atoms".


Similarly, "a 'compound' is any chemical [sic] composed of two or more atoms chemically bonded together" (pp.29-30) would imply that H2, C60, N2, O2, F2, P4, S8, Cl2, etc are all compounds (when these are elements, not compounds).


Another slightly questionable suggestion was that

"…electrons appear to surround the atomic nucleus, but in a way that allows them to dart to and fro in a seemingly chaotic manner within a particular region of space."

p.21

The notion of electrons darting back and forth does not really reflect the scientific model, but the orbital/quantum model of the atom is subtle and difficult to explain, and was not needed at the level of the description being presented.


A more obvious error was that

"…'heat' is just a measure of the kinetic energy with which particles of matter are moving…"

p.26

In physics, the temperature of a material is considered to reflect the average kinetic energy of the particles (e.g., molecules). But heat is a distinct concept from temperature. Heat is the energy transferred between samples of matter, due to a difference in temperature. So, when Scott writes

"We all know that heat energy moves inevitably from hot places to cold places, and that it will never spontaneously move in the opposite direction."

p.32

this could be seen as a tautology: like saying that imports always come into the county rather than leave – because of how imports are defined.

Although heat and temperature are related concepts, confusing or conflating them is a common alternative conception found among students. Confusing heat with temperature is like confusing a payment into your bank account with the account balance.

Moreover, Scott uses the wrong term when writes,

"[The molecules of?] Chemicals come into contact with one another because they are all constantly moving with the energy we call heat."

p.191

This internal energy that substances have due to the inherent motion of their particles is not heat – it is present even when there is a perfectly uniform temperature throughout a sample (and so no heating going on).


Scott tells readers that "Another name for … a voltage difference is a 'potential difference'…" (p.162) but the term voltage (not voltage difference) normally refers to a potential difference, p.d.. (So, the term voltage difference implies a difference between potential differences, not a difference in potential. If you had one battery with a p.d. across its terminals of 6.0V, and another with a p.d. across its terminals of 4.5V, you could say the 'voltage difference' between the batteries was 1.5V.)


A common alternative conception which Scott seems to share, or at least is happy to reinforce, is the 'fairy tale'* of how ionic bonding results from the transfer of an electron from a metal atom to a neutral non-metal atom,

"When sodium atoms react with chlorine atoms electrons are actually transferred from one atom to the other (see figure [which shows electron transfer from one atom to another]). One electron which is relatively loosely held by a sodium atom can move over to become attached to a chlorine atom."

p.30

This describes a chemically very unlikely scenario (neither sodium nor chlorine are found in the atomic state under normal conditions on earth), and if a sodium atom were to somehow collide with a chlorine atom, the process Scott describes would be thermodynamically non-viable – it requires too much energy to remove even the outermost 'relatively loosely held' electron from the neutral sodium atom. Perhaps this is why in the school laboratory NaCl tends to be prepared from solutions that already contain the sodium ions [NaOH(aq)] and the chloride ions [HCl(aq)].

* For example, read 'A tangible user interface for teaching fairy tales about chemical bonding'

It is hard to be too critical of Scott here, as this account is found in many chemistry text books (and I have even seen it expected in public examinations) although from a scientific point of view, it is a nonsense. That many learners come to think that ionic bonding is due to (or even, 'is') a process of electron transfer is surely a pedagogic learning impediment (Taber, 1994) – a false idea that is commonly taught in school chemistry.

Read more about common misconceptions of ionic bonding


6 As the author of a paper called ' Mediating mental models of metals: acknowledging the priority of the learner's prior learning', I must confess to being somewhat partial to some decent alliteration.


7 Many scientists will believe there is a purpose underpinning the evolution of life on earth, and will see creation as the unfolding of a supernatural plan. (Some others will vehemently reject this. Others still will be agnostic.) However, natural science is concerned with providing natural explanations of the world in terms of natural mechanisms. Even if a scientist thinks things are the way they are because that is God's will, that would be inadmissible as a scientific argument, as it does not explain how things came about through natural processes.

Read more about science and religion


8 Teaching, or for that matter writing a science book, is informed by the teacher's/author's mental model of how the reader/listener will make sense of the text (see above). How they actually make sense of the text depends on the interpretive resources they have available, and bring to mind, and it is common for learners/readers not to interpret texts in the way intended – often they either do not make sense of the information, or make a different sense to that intended. A teacher who is a 'learning doctor' can seek to diagnose and treat these 'teaching-learning system failures' when they inevitably occur, but teachers can avoid a good many potential problems by being as explicit as possible and not relying on learners to spontaneously make intended associations with prior learning or cultural referents.

Read about being a learning doctor

As suggested above, authors have an even more challenging task as their readerships may have a diverse range of prior knowledge and other available interpretive resources (e.g., a popular television programme or pop star in one country may be unknown to readers from another); and the author cannot check they have been understood as intended, in the way a teacher usually can.


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, etceterastrongly 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.


Work cited:

Notes:

1 Many people, including some scientists, do believe the world is unfolding according to a pre-ordained plan or scheme. This would normally be considered a matter of religious faith or at least a metaphysical commitment.

The usual stance taken in science ('methodological naturalism'), however, is that scientific explanations must be based on scientific principles, concepts, laws, theories, etcetera, and must not call upon any supernatural causes or explanations. This need not exclude a religious faith in some creator with a plan for the world, as long as the creator is seen to have set up the world to unfold through natural laws and mechanisms. That is, faith-based and scientific accounts and explanations may be considered to work at different levels and to be complementary.

Read more about the relationship between science and religion


2 That this does not seem to be the case might reflect how a flying bird perceives prey – if it has simply evolved to swoop upon and take any object in a certain size range {that we might explain as small enough to be taken, but not so small as not to repay the effort} that matches a certain class of movement pattern {that we might interpret as moving under its own direction and so being animate} then the option of avoiding smaller birds but taking other prey would not be available.

After all, studies show parent birds will try and feed the most simple representations of a hatchling's open beak – suggesting they do not perceive the difference between their own children and crude models of an open bird mouth.


The general form of a chick's open mouth (as shown by these hatchlings) is enough to trigger feeding behaviour in adult birds.
(Image by Tania Van den Berghen from Pixabay )

Uexküll himself reported that,

"…a very young wild duck was brought to me; it followed me every step. I had the impression that it was my boots that attracted it so, since it also ran occasionally after a black dachshund. I concluded from this that a black moving object was sufficient to replace the image of its mother…"

Uexküll, 1934/2010

(A year later, Lorentz would publish his classic work on imprinting which reported detailed studies of the same phenomenon.)


The book that EVERY physics student reads

Certainty as the Nemesis of science


Keith S. Taber


My library is in desperate need of some sorting and tidying, but I have a tendency, when entering in there and picking up a book I've not looked at for while, to dip into it rather than get organising.

So it was that I found myself re-reading the Introduction to Richard Muller's (1988) book 'Nemesis: The Death Star'. I presumably do not need to describe the book as it is so widely read (😉 see below) 1, but the Introduction was by Muller's colleague and former research supervisor Luis Alverez – a Nobel Prize winning physicist. He died the same year that Nemesis was published, so this was probably one of his last pieces of writing about science.

A claim that cannot be taken at face vlaue

In the introduction, Alverez suggests that,

"I am convinced that every student of physics will read and reread Nemesis several times, learning important lessons on each occasion, as well as having a wonderful time."

Alverez, 1988, p.xi

Now I struggle with this kind of claim.

Richard Muller's book 'Nemesis The Death Star' – has this been read and reread by every student of physics since 1988?


I have admitted here before to being rather pedantic, and although it's never been diagnosed as being on the autism spectrum, I recognise I do share some of the common traits – including a tendency to focus on literal meanings. (Perhaps that explains my regular exploration of scientific metaphors and the like on this site).

Clearly, Alverez thinks very highly of Muller, and the work reported is related to some of his own research, so there might be some quite understandable personal bias here. I am also prepared to be charitable, and read 'every student of physics' to only refer to those majoring in physics at university level rather than anyone taking a physics course.

Even so, I find this an extraordinary thing to write.

Now, I was recently asked to write something about a book I had been sent in manuscript and was quite happy to suggest that the book (on a critical but generally under-examined theme) should be required reading for all future science educators. But that is surely different: the kind of difference to be drawn between the claims:

  • all good citizens should pay their due taxes
  • all citizens do pay their due taxes

Alverez was not only suggesting that he thought all physics students would benefit from the book, but was apparently making a prediction, moreover a 'confident' prediction, that all future physics students would read the book (at least twice!) and enjoy it. The likelihood of that must have surely seemed infinitesimally small!

Had this been part of the cover blurb, I might have suspected the publisher had taken liberties with the text (which should not surprise me as publishers now seem to regularly issue contracts asking authors for the right to change their scholarly text in any way that suits them). I had wondered if that had happened, for example, when I read on the cover of a book on evolution the author's claim that today everyone accepts Darwin's theory.2 But Alverez was not writing an endorsement, but a part of the book itself. (This was not even a Foreword – but the actual Introduction to the book.)

I can only understand Alverez's claim if I understand it as a piece of rhetoric, indeed hyperbole – surely the author could not possibly really think that henceforth every physics student was going to read and reread this book about one specialised programme of research (and which was very unlikely to be directly relevant to the assignments and examinations that would given them course credit) no mater how interesting it might be? Surely, rather, he was just communicating via rhetoric that the book was so worthy of attention that in his view it would justify such a broad readership.

What's wrong with rhetoric?

I see this as an issue worth raising because (a) the statement is a knowledge claim and (b) the claim was made by a scientist in the context of part of a book reporting scientific work.

Yet it is in the nature of scientific knowledge that it is theoretical, and, strictly, provisional (always open to be revisited in the light of new evidence or ways of interpreting evidence) – and therefore scientific knowledge claims should reflect this, and not be absolute.

Read about the nature of scientific knowledge

This is one way that some accounts of science that appear in the news and other media distort the nature of science (and usually the original reports of that science as presented in research journals) by suggesting scientists have made discoveries that definitively prove some idea or other and reflect certain, absolute, knowledge

Read about scientific certainty in the media

Alverez's claim is absolute: all physics students WILL read and re-read this book.

I am not suggesting that there is no place for rhetoric in science. Scientific claims are presented in formal research reports which are organised to make an argument for the claims being presented. They are rhetorical.

Read about rhetoric in science writing

But, even if scientific claims are structured rhetorically in order to make a case, they still need to be measured, and honest, and – if they are to be considered scientific – suitably provisional.

This was perhaps [sic] exemplified when Crick and Watson, reporting what was arguably [sic] one of the most important scientific discoveries of the twentieth, if not all, centuries, pointed out that

"It has not escaped our notice that the specific pairing we have postulated immediately suggests a possible copying mechanism for the genetic material."

Watson & Crick, 1953

They did not suggest that

"our model of D.N.A. structure definitely provides the mechanism by which genetic material IS copied and is without doubt the basis of heredity".

Counterfactual: what Crick and Watson did not publish in Nature

So, rhetoric is important in science – scientists need the ability to present a best case for the argument being made so that other scientists can readily appreciate the logic of, and strength of, some new claim. However, hyperbole involves making such extreme exaggerations that they are not expected to be taken literally, and surely has no place in scientific writing. When a scientist make an absolutist claim (e.g., "every student of physics will read and reread Nemesis several times [and have a] wonderful time") other scientists know this cannot be seen as an authentic scientific claim, and so are likely to simply disregard it as something which cannot be interpreted sensibly within the context of scientific discourse.


Sources cited
  • Alvarez, L. W. (1988). Introduction. In Nemesis: The Death Star. The story of a scientific revolution (pp. xi-xiii). Guild Publishing.
  • Watson, J. D., & Crick, F. H. C. (1953). Molecular Structure of Nucleic Acids: A Structure for Deoxyribose Nucleic Acid. Nature, 171(4356), 737-738.
  • Muller, R. (1988). Nemesis: The Death Star. The story of a scientific revolution. Guild Publishing.
  • Eldredge, N. (1995). Reinventing Darwin: The great evolutionary debate. Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Note:


1 Just in case anyone has not read the book, it describes a theory that the earth is subject to regular mass extinction events due to the effect of a planet (Nemesis) with such a large and eccentric orbit that it only comes near the sun once every 26 million years. The publisher tells readers that

"…the Nemesis hypothesis has established itself as the only viable scientific theory to explain a bewildering variety of phenomena in fields ranging from geology to astronomy to palaeontology…"

but then the editor responsible for this claim has presumably NOT won a physics Nobel prize.

(Image by Bela Geletneky from Pixabay)


2 The back cover of 'Reinventing Darwin' (Eldredge, 1995) tells potential readers that,

"No one doubts that Darwin's theory of Evolution by Natural Selection is correct."

No matter how much one recognises natural selection and Neodarwinism as the consensus view, the present paradigm, in the scientific community, it is difficult to believe that any person on earth who has taken any interest in the matter is not aware that there are large numbers of people (albeit, only a small proportion of practising scientists) who not only 'doubt' Darwin was correct but, in many cases, are strongly committed to the idea that he was completely wrong!


Monkeys that do not give a fig about maggotty fruit?

Some spider monkeys like a little something extra with "all this fruit"

Keith S. Taber


(Photograph by by Manfred Richter from Pixabay)

"oh heck, what am I going to do, I'm faced with all this fruit with no protein and I've got to be a spider monkey"

Primatologist Adrian Barnett getting inside the mind of a monkey

I was listening to an item on the BBC World Service 'Science in Action' programme/podcast (an episode called 'Climate techno-fix would worsen global malaria burden').

This included an item with the title:

Primatologist Adrian Barnett has discovered that spider monkeys in one part of the Brazilian Amazon seek out fruit, full of live maggots to eat. Why?

BBC Science in Action episode included an item about spider monkey diets

The argument was that the main diet of monkeys is usually fruit which is mostly very low in protein and fat. However, often monkeys include figs in their diet which are an exception, being relatively rich in protein and fats.

The spider monkeys in one part of the Amazon, however, seem to 'seek out' fruit that was infested with maggots – these monkeys appear to actively choose the infected fruits. These are the fruits a human would probably try to avoid: certainly if there were non-infested alternatives. Only a proportion of fruit on the trees are so infested, yet the monkeys consume a higher proportion of infested fruit and so seem to have a bias towards selecting fruit with maggots. At least that was what primatologist Dr Adrian Barnett's analysis found when he analysed the remains of half-eaten fruit that reached the forest floor.

The explanation suggested is that this particular area of forest has very few fig trees, therefore it seems these monkeys do not have ready access to figs, and it seems they instead get a balanced diet by preferentially picking fruit containing insect larvae.

Who taught the monkeys about their diet?

A scientific explanation of this might suggest natural selection was operating.

Even if monkeys had initially tended to avoid the infested fruit, if this then led to a deficient diet (making monkeys more prone to disease, or accidents, and less fertile) then any monkeys who supplemented the fruit content of their diet by not being so picky and eating some infested fruit (whether because of a variation in their taste preferences, or simply a variation in how careful they were to avoid spoilt fruit) would have a fitness advantage and so, on average, leave more offspring.

To the extent their eating habits reflected genetic make-up (even if this was less significant for variations in individual behaviour than contingent environmental factors) this would over time shift the typical behaviours in the population. Being willing to eat, or perhaps even enjoying, maggotty fruit was likely to be a factor in being fertile and fecund, so eventually eating infested fruit becomes the norm – at least as long as the population remains in a habitat that does not have other ready sources of essential dietary components. Proving this is what happened would be very difficult after the fact. But an account along these lines is consistent with our understanding of how behaviour tends to change.

An important aspect of natural selection is that it is an automatic process. It does not require any deliberation or even conscious awareness on behalf of the members of the population being subject to selection. Changes do not occur in response to any preference or purpose – but just reflect the extent to which different variants of a population match their environment.

This is just as well, as even though monkeys are primates, and so relatively intelligent animals, it seems reasonable to assume they do not have a formal concept of diet (rather, they just eat), and they are not aware of the essential need for fat and protein in the diet; nor of the dietary composition of fruit. Natural selection works because where there is variation, and differences in relative fitness, the fittest will tend to leave more offspring (as by fittest we simply mean those most able to leave offspring!)

Now he's thinking…

I was therefore a little surprised when the scientist being interviewed, Adrian Barnett, explained the behaviour:

"So, suddenly the monkey's full of, you know, squeaking the monkey equivalent of 'oh heck, what am I going to do, erm, I'm faced with all this fruit with no protein and I've got to be a spider monkey'."

Adrian Barnett speaking on Science in Action

At first hearing this sounds like anthropomorphism, where non-humans are assigned human feelings and cognitions.

Anthropomorphic language refers to non-human entities as if they have human experiences, perceptions, and motivations. Both non-living things and non-human organisms may be subjects of anthropomorphism. Anthropomorphism may be used deliberately as a kind of metaphorical language that will help the audience appreciate what is being described because of its similarly to some familiar human experience. In science teaching, and in public communication of science, anthropomorphic language may often be used in this way, giving technical accounts the flavour of a persuasive narrative that people will readily engage with. Anthropomorphism may therefore be useful in 'making the unfamiliar familiar', but sometimes the metaphorical nature of the language may not be recognised, and the listener/reader may think that the anthropomorphic description is meant to be taken at face value. This 'strong anthropomorphism' may be a source of alternative conceptions ('misconceptions') of science.

Read about anthropomorphism

What goes through a monkey's mind?

Why 'at first hearing this seems like an example of anthropomorphism'? Well, Dr Barnett does not say the monkey actually has these thoughts but rather squeaks the monkey equivalent of these words. This leaves me wondering how we are to understand what the monkey equivalent actually is. I somehow suspect that whatever thoughts the monkey has they probably do not include any direct equivalents of either being a spider monkey or protein.

I am happy to accept the monkey has a concept somewhat akin to our fruit, as clearly the monkey is able to discriminate particular regularities in its environment that are associated with the behaviour of picking items from trees and eating them – regularities that we would class as fruit. It is interesting to speculate on what would be included in a monkey's concept map of fruit, were one able to induce a monkey to provide the data that might enable us to produce such a diagram. Perhaps there might be monkey equivalents of such human concepts as red and crunchy and mushy…but I would not be expecting any equivalents of our concepts of dietary components or nutritional value.

So, although I am not a primatologist, I wonder if the squeaking Dr Barnett heard when he was collecting for analysis the partially eaten fruit dropped by the spider monkeys was actually limited to the monkey equivalent of either "yummy, more fruit" or perhaps "oh, fruit again".

Of opportunistic viruses and meat-eating bees

The birds viruses and the bees do it: Let's do it, let's…evolve

Keith S. Taber

bees that once were vegetarian actually decided to change their ways…

this group of bees realised that there's always animals that are dying and maybe there's enough competition on the flowers [so] they decided to switch

How the vulture bee got its taste for meat

I was struck by two different examples of anthropomorphism that I noticed in the same episode of the BBC's Science in Action radio programme/podcast.

Science in Action episode broadcast 5th December 2021

Anthropomorphism in science?

Anthropomorphism is the name given treating non-human entities as if they were human actors. An example of anthropomorphic language would be "the atom wants to donate an electron so that it can get a full outer shell" (see for example: 'A sodium atom wants to donate its electron to another atom'). In an example such as that, an event that would be explained in terms of concepts such as force and energy in a scientific account (the ionisation of an atom) is instead described as if the atom is a conscious agent that is aware of its status, has preferences, and acts to bring about desired ends.

Read about Anthropomorphism

Of course, an atom is not a complex enough entity to have mental experience that allows it to act deliberately in the world, so why might someone use such language?

  • Perhaps, if the speaker was a young learner, because they have not been taught the science.
  • Perhaps a non-scientist might use such language because they can only make sense of the abstract event in more familiar terms.

But what if the speaker was a scientist – a science teacher or a research scientist?

When fellow professionals (e.g., scientists) talk to each other they may often use a kind of shorthand that is not meant to be taken literally (e.g., 'the molecule wants to be in this configuration') simply because it can shorten and simplify more technical explanations that both parties understand. But when a teacher is talking to learners or a scientist is trying to explain their ideas to the general public, something else may be going on.

Read about Anthropomorphism in public science discourse

Anthropomorphism in science communication and education

In science teaching or science communication (scientists communicating science to the public) there is often a need to present abstract or complex ideas in ways that are accessible to the audience. At one level, teaching is about shifting what is to be taught from being unfamiliar to learners to being familiar, and one way to 'make the unfamiliar familiar' is to show it is in some sense like something already familiar.

Therefore there is much use of simile and analogy, and of telling stories that locate the focal material to be learned within a familiar narrative. Anthropomorphism is often used in this way. Inanimate objects may be said to want or need or try (etc.) as the human audience can relate to what it is to want or need or try.

Such techniques can be very useful to introduce novel ideas or phenomena in ways that are accessible and/or memorable ('weak anthropomorphism'). However, sometimes the person receiving these accounts may not appreciate their figurative nature as pedagogic / communicative aids, and may mistake what is meant to be no more than a starting point, a way into a new topic or idea, as being the scientific account itself. That is, these familiarisation techniques can work so well that the listener (or reader) may feel satisfied with them as explanatory accounts ('strong anthropomorphism').

Evolution – it's just natural (selection)

A particular issue arises with evolution, when often science only has hypothetical or incomplete accounts of how and why specific features or traits have been selected for in evolution. It is common for evolution to be misunderstood teleologically – that is, as if evolution was purposeful and nature has specific end-points in mind.

Read about teleology

The scientific account of evolution is natural selection, where none of genes, individual specimens, populations or species are considered to be deliberately driving evolution in particular directions (present company excepted perhaps – as humans are aware of evolutionary processes, and may be making some decisions with a view to the long-term future). 1

Yet describing evolutionary change in accord with the scientific account tends to need complex and convoluted language (Taber, 2017). Teleological and anthropomorphic shorthand is easier to comprehend – even if it puts a burden on the communicatee to translate the narrative into a more technical account.

What the virus tries to do

The first example from the recent Science in Action episode related to the COVID pandemic, and the omicron variant of the SARS-CoV-2 virus. This was the lead story on the broadcast/podcast, in particular how the travel ban imposed on Southern Africa (a case of putting the lid on the Petri dish after the variant had bolted?) was disrupting supplies of materials needed to address the pandemic in the countries concerned.

This was followed by a related item:

"Omicron contains many more mutations than previous variants. However scientists have produced models in the past which can help us understand what these mutations do. Rockefeller University virologist Theodora Hatziioannou produced one very similar to Omicron and she tells us why the similarities are cause for concern."

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/w3ct1l4p

During this item, Dr Theodora Hatziioannou noted:

"When you give the virus the opportunity to infect so many people, then of course it is going to try not only every possible mutation, but every possible combination of mutations, until it finds one that really helps it overcome our defences."

Dr Theodora Hatziioannou interviewed on Science in Action

Dr Theodora Hatziioannou
Research Associate Professor
Laboratory of Retrovirology
The Rockefeller University

I am pretty sure that Dr Hatziioannou does not actually think that 'the virus' (which of course is composed of myriad discrete virus particles) is trying out different mutations intending to stop once it finds one which will overcome human defences. I would also be fairly confident that in making this claim she was not intending her listeners to understand that the virus had a deliberate strategy and was systematically working its way through a plan of action. A scientifically literature person should readily interpret the comments in a natural selection framework (e.g., 'random' variation, fitness, differential reproduction). In a sense, Dr Hatziioannou's comments may be seen as an anthropomorphic analogy – presenting the 'behaviour' of the virus (collectively) by analogy with human behavior.

Yet, as a science educator, such comments attract my attention as I am well aware that school age learners and some adult non-scientists may well understand evolution to work this way. Alternative conceptions of natural selection are very common. Even when students have been taught about natural selection they may misunderstand the process as Lamarckian (the inheritance of acquired characteristics – see for example 'The brain thinks: grow more fur'). So, I wonder how different members of the public hearing this interview will understand Dr Hatziioannou's analogy.

Even before COVID-19 came along, there was a tendency for scientists to describe viruses in such terms as as 'smart', 'clever' and 'sneaky' (e.g., 'So who's not a clever little virus then?'). The COVID pandemic seems to have unleashed a (metaphorical) pandemic of public comments about what the virus wants, and what it tries to achieve, and so forth. When a research scientist talks this way, I am fairly sure it is intended as figurative language. I am much less sure when, for example, I hear a politician telling the public that the virus likes cold weather ('What COVID really likes').

Vulture bees have the guts for it

The other item that struck me concerned vulture bees.

"Laura Figueroa from University of Massachusetts in Amhert [sic] in the US, has been investigating bees' digestive systems. Though these are not conventional honey bees, they are Costa Rican vulture bees. They feed on rotting meat, but still produce honey."

https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/w3ct1l4p
Bees do not actually make reasoned choices about their diets
(Original image by Oldiefan from Pixabay)

The background is that although bees are considered (so I learned) to have evolved from wasps, and to all have become vegetarians, there are a few groups of bees that have reverted to the more primitive habits of eating meat. To be fair to them, these bees are not cutting down the forests to set up pasture and manage livestock, but rather take advantage of the availability of dead animals in their environment as a source of protein.

These vulture bees (or carrion bees) are able to do this because their gut microbiomes consist of a mix of microbes that can support them in digesting meat, allowing them to be omnivores. This raises the usual kind of 'chicken and egg' question 1 thrown up by evolutionary developments: how did vegetarian bees manage to shift their diet: the more recently acquired microbes would not have been useful or well-resourced whilst the bees were still limiting themselves to a plant-based diet, but the vegetarian bees would not have been able to digest carrion before their microbiomes changed.

As part of the interview, Dr Figueroa explaied:

"These are more specialised bees that once they were vegetarian for a really long time and they actually decided to change their ways, there's all of this meat in the forest, why not take advantage? I find that super-fascinating as well, because how do these shifts happen?

Because the bees, really when we are thinking about them, they've got access to this incredible resource of all of the flowering plants that are all over the world, so then why switch? Why make this change?

Over evolutionary time there are these mutations, and, you know, maybe they'd have got an inkling for meat, it's hard to know how exactly that happened, but really because it is a constant resource in the forest, there's always, you know, this might sound a little morbid but there's always animals that are dying and there's always this turn over of nutrients that can happen, and so potentially this specialised group of bees realised that, and maybe there's enough competition on the flowers that they decided to switch. Or, they didn't decide, but it happened over evolutionary time.

Dr Laura Figueroa interviewed on Science in Action

Dr Figueroa does not know exactly how this happened – more research is needed. I am sure Dr Figueroa does not think the bees decided to change their ways in the way that a person might decide to change their ways – perhaps deciding to get more exercise and go to bed earlier for the sake of their health. I am also sure Dr Figueroa does not think the bees realised that there was so much competition feeding on the flowers that it might be in their interests to consider a change of diet, in the way that a person might decide to change strategy based on an evaluation of the competition. These are anthropomorphic figures of speech.

Dr Laura Figueroa, NSF Postdoctoral Research Fellow in Biology
Department of Entomology, Cornell University / University of Massachusetts in Amherst

As she said "they didn't decide, but it happened over evolutionary time". Yet it seems so natural to use that kind of language, that is to frame the account in a narrative that makes sense in terms of how people experience their lives.

Again, the scientifically literate should appreciate the figurative use of language for what it is, and it is difficult to offer an accessible account without presenting evolutionary change as purposive and the result of deliberation and strategy. Yet, I cannot help wondering if this kind of language may reinforce some listeners' alternative conceptions about how natural selection works.

Work cited:
Notes

1 The 'selfish' gene made famous by Dawkins (1976/1989) is not really selfish in the sense a person might be – rather this was an analogy which helped shift attention from changes at the individual or species level when trying to understand how evolution occurs, to changes in the level of distinct genes. If a mutation in a specific gene leads to a change in the carrying organism that (in turn) leads to that specimen having greater fitness then the gene itself has an increased chance of being replicated. So, from the perspective of focusing on the genes, the change at the species level can be seen as a side effect of the 'evolution' of the gene. The gene may be said to be (metaphorically) selfish because it does not change for the benefit of the organism, but to increase its own chances of being replicated. Of course, that is also an anthropomorphic narrative – actually the gene does not deliberately mutate, has no purpose, has no notion of replication, indeed, does not even 'know' it is a gene, and so forth.

2 Such either/or questions can be understood as posing false dichotomies (here, either the bees completely changed their diets before their microbiomes or their microbiomes changed dramatically before their diets shifted) when what often seems most likely is that change has been slow and gradual.

Opposites avoid attracting

Do species become more different from one another to avoid breeding?


Keith S. Taber


They say "opposites attract". True perhaps for magnetic poles and electrical charges, but the aphorism is usually applied to romantic couples. It seems like one of those sayings that survives due to the 'confirmation bias' in human cognition. That is, as long as from time to time seemingly unlikely couplings occur, the explanation that 'opposites attract' seems to have some merit, even in it only applies to a minority of cases.

Trying to avoid a fight

What got me thinking about this was an interview (on BBC's Inside Science radio programme/podcast) with Dr Jacob Dunn, Associate Professor in Evolutionary Biology at Anglia Ruskin University, who studies primate vocal communication. He was discussing his research into the calls of tamarin monkeys in the Amazon rainforest, and in particular the calls of two different species where their ranges overlap.

Apparently, in the area of overlap the red-handed tamarins seemed to have adapted one of their calls so it sounds very similar to that of the pied tamarins. (N.b. The images above represent two contrasting species, just as an illustration.) The suggested explanation was that this modification made it more likely that the monkeys of different types would recognise each other's calls – in particular that "…they are trying to be understood, so they don't end up in a fight…".

Anthropomorphism?

I wondered if these monkeys were really "trying" to achieve this, or whether this might be an anthropomorphism. That is, were the red-handed tamarins deliberately changing their call in this way in order to ensure they could be understood – or was this actually natural selection in operation – where, because there was an advantage to cross-species communication (and there will be a spread of call characteristics in any population), over time calls that could be understood by monkeys of both species would be selected for in a shared niche.

Then again, primates are fairly intelligent creatures, so perhaps Dr Dunn (who, unlike me is an evolutionary biologist) means this literally, and this is something deliberate. Certainly, if the individual monkeys are shifting their calls over time in response to environmental cues, rather than the shift just occurring across generations, then that would seem to suggest this is learning rather than evolution. (Of course, it could be implicit learning based on feedback from the responses to their behavior, and still may not be the monkeys consciously adopting a strategy to be better understood.)

Becoming more distinct

Dr Dunn's explanation of the wider issue of how similar animals will compete for scarce resources intrigued me:

"When you have species that are closely related to one another and live in sort of overlapping areas there's quite a lot of pressure because they're likely to be competing for key resources. So, sometimes we see that these species actually diverge in their traits, they become more different from one another. Examples of that are sort of coloration and the way that animals look. Quite often they become more distinct than you would expect them to, to avoid breeding [sic] with one another."

My initial reaction to this was to wonder why the two species of monkeys needed to avoid breeding with each other. 'Breeding' normally refers to producing offspring, reproduction, but usually breeding is not possible across species (except sometimes to produce infertile hybrids).

Presumably, all tamarins descended from a common ancestor species. Speciation may have occurred when different populations become physically separated and so were no longer able to inter-breed (although still initially sexually compatible) simply because members of the two groups never encountered each other. Over time (i.e., many generations) the two populations might then diverge in various traits because of different selection pressures in the two different locations, or simply by chance effects* which would lead to the two gene pools drifting in different ways.

(* Read about 'Intergenerational couplings in the family: A thought experiment about ancestry')

Two groups that had formed separate species such that members of the two different species are no longer able to mate to produce fertile offspring, might subsequently come to encounter each other again (e.g., members of one species migrating into to the territory of the other) but inter-breeding would no longer be possible. A further mechanism to avoid breeding (by further "diverge[nce] in their traits") would not seem to make any difference.

If they actually cannot breed, there is no need to avoid breeding.

A breeding euphemism?

However, perhaps 'breeding' was being used by Dr Dunn as a euphemism (this was after all a family-friendly radio programme broadcast in the afternoon), as a polite way of saying this might avoid the moneys copulating with genetically incompatible partners – tamarins of another species. As tamarins presumably do not themselves have a formal biological species concept, they will not avoid coupling with an animal from a different species on the grounds that they cannot breed and so it would be ineffective. They indulge in sexual activity in response to instinctive drives, rather than in response to deliberate family planning decisions. That is, we might safely assume these couplings are about sexual attraction rather than a desire to have children.

I think that was what Jürgen Habermas may have meant when he wrote that:

"…the reproduction of every individual organism seems to warrant the assumption of purposiveness without purposeful activity…"

In terms of fitness, an animal is clearly more likely to have offspring if it is attracted to a sexually comparable partner than a non-compatible one. Breeding is clearly important for the survival of the species, and uses precious resources. Matings that could not lead to pregnancy (or, perhaps worse from a resource perspective, might lead to infertile hybrids that need to be nurtured but then fail to produce 'grandchildren'), would reduce breeding success overall in the populations. Assuming that a tamarin is more likely to be attracted to a member of a different species when it does not look so different from its own kind, it is those monkeys in the two groups that look most alike who are likely to be inadvertently sharing intimate moments with biologically incompatible partners.

A teleological explanation

Dr Dunn's suggestion that "quite often [the two species] become more distinct than you would expect them to, to avoid breeding with one another" sounds like teleology. That is, it seems to imply that there is a purpose (to avoid inter-breeding) and the "species actually diverge in their traits" in order to bring about this goal. This would be a teleological explanation.

(Read about 'Teleology')

I suspect the actual explanation is not that the two species "come more distinct…to avoid breeding with one another" but rather than they come more distinct because they cannot breed with each other, and so there is a selection advantage favouring the most distinct members of the two different species (if they are indeed less likely than their less distinguishable conspecifics to couple with allospecific mates).

I also suspect that Dr Dunn does not actually subscribe to the teleological argument, but is using a common way of talking that biologists often adopt as a kind of abbreviated argument: biologists know that when they refer to evolution having a purpose (e.g., to avoid cross-breeding), that is only a figure of speech.

Comprehension versus accuracy?

However, I am not sure that is always so obvious to non-specialists listening to them. Learners often find natural selection a challenging topic, and many would be quite happy with accepting that adaptations may have a purpose (rather than just a consequence). This reflects a common challenge of communicating science – either in formal teaching or supporting public understanding.

The teacher or science communicator simplifies accounts and uses everyday ways of expressing ideas that an audience without specialist knowledge can readily engage with to help 'make the unfamiliar familiar'. However, the simplifications and approximations and short-cuts we use to make sure what is said can be understood (i.e., made sense of) by non-specialists also risks us being misunderstood.

Learning about natural selection and denying evolution

An ironic parallel

Keith S. Taber

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay 

I was checking some proofs for something I had written today* [Taber, 2017], and was struck by an ironic parallel between one of the challenges for teaching about the scientific theory of evolution by natural selection and one of the arguments put forward by those who deny the theory. The issue concerns the value of having only part of an integrated system.

The challenge of evolutionary change

One of the arguments that has long been made about the feasibility of evolution is that if it occurs by many small random events, it could not lead to progressive increases in complexity – unless it was guided by some sense of design to drive the many small changes towards some substantive new feature of ability. So, for example, birds have adaptations such as feathers that allow them to fly, even though they are thought to have evolved from creatures that could not fly. The argument goes that for a land animal to evolve into a bird there need to be a great many coordinated changes. Feathers would not appear due to a single mutation, but rather must be the result of a long series of small changes. Moreover, simply growing features would not allow an animal to fly without other coordinated changes such as evolving very light bones and changes in anatomy to support the musculature needed to power the wings.  

The same argument can be made about something like the mammalian eye, which can hardly be one random mutation away from an eyeless creature. The eye requires retinal cells, linked to the optic nerve, a lens, the iris, and so on. The eye is an impressive piece of equipment which is as likely to be the result of a handful of random events, as would be – say, a pocket watch found walking on the heath (to use a famous example). A person finding a watch would not assume its mechanism was the result of a chance accumulation of parts that had somehow fallen together. Rather, the precise mechanism surely implies a designer who planned the constructions of the overall object. In 'Intelligent Design' similar arguments are made at the biochemical level, about the complex systems of proteins which only function after they have independently come into existence and become coordinated into a 'machine' such as a flagellum.  

The challenge of conceptual change

The parallel concerns the nature of conceptual changes between different conceptual frameworks. Paul Thagard (e.g., 1992) has looked at historical cases and argued that such shifts depend upon judgements of 'explanatory coherence'. For example, the phlogiston theory explained a good many phenomena in chemistry, but also had well-recognised problems.

The very different conceptual framework developed by Lavoisier [the Lavoisiers? **] (before he was introduced to Madame Guillotine) saw combustion as a chemical reaction with oxygen (rather than a release of phlogiston), and with the merits of hindsight clearly makes sense of chemistry much more systematically and thoroughly. It seems hard now to understand why all other contemporary chemists did not readily switch their conceptual frameworks immediately. Thagard's argument was that those who were very familiar with phlogiston theory and had spent many years working with it genuinely found it had more explanatory coherence than the new unfamiliar oxygen theory that they had had less opportunity to work with across a wide range of examples. So chemists who history suggests were reactionary in rejecting the progressive new theory were actually acting perfectly rationally in terms of their own understanding at the time. ***

Evolution is counter-intuitive

Evolution is not an obvious idea. Our experience of the world is of very distinct types of creatures that seldom offer intermediate uncertain individuals. (That may not be true for expert naturalists, but is the common experience.) Types give rise to more of their own: young children know that pups come from dogs and grow to be adult dogs that will have pups, and not kittens, of their own. The fossil record may offer clues, but the extant biological world that children grow up in only offers a single static frame from the on-going movie of evolving life-forms. [That is, everyday 'lifeworld' knowledge can act as substantial learning impediment – we think we already know how things are.]

Natural selection is an exceptionally powerful and insightful theory – but it is not easy to grasp. Those who have become so familiar with it may forget that – but even Darwin took many years to be convinced about his theory.

Understanding natural selection means coordinating a range of different ideas about inheritance, and fitness, and random mutations, and environmental change, and geographical separation of populations, and so forth. Put it all together and the conceptual system seems elegant – perhaps even simple, and perhaps with the advantage of hindsight even obvious. It is said that when Huxley read the Origin of Species his response was "How extremely stupid not to have thought of that!" That perhaps owes as much to the pedagogic and rhetorical qualities of Darwin's writing in his "one long argument". However, Huxley had not thought of it. Alfred Russel Wallace had independently arrived at much the same scheme and it may be no coincidence that Darwin and Wallace had both spent years immersing themselves in the natural history of several continents.   

Evolution is counter-intuitive, and only makes sense once we can construct a coherent theoretical structure that coordinates a range of different components. Natural selection is something like a shed that will act as a perfectly stable building once we have put it together, but which  it is very difficult to hold in place whilst still under construction. Good scaffolding may be needed. 

Incremental change

The response to those arguments about design in evolution is that the many generations between the land animal and the bird, or the blind animal and the mammal, get benefits from the individual mutations that will collectively, ultimately lead to the wing or mammalian eye. So a simple eye is better than no eye, and even a simple light sensitive spot may give its owner some advantage. Wings that are good enough to glide are useful even if their owners cannot actually fly. Nature is not too proud to make use of available materials that may have previously had different functions (whether at the level of proteins or anatomical structures). So perhaps features started out as useful insulation, before they were made use of for a new function. From the human scale it is hard not to see purpose – but the movie of life has an enormous number of frames and, like some art house movies, the observer might have to watch for some time to see any substantive changes. 

A pedagogical suggestion – incremental teaching?

So there is the irony. Scientists counter the arguments about design by showing how parts of (what will later be recognised as) an adaptation actually function as smaller or different advantageous adaptations in their own right. Learning about natural selection presents a situation where the theory is only likely to offer greater explanatory coherence than a student's intuitive ideas about the absolute nature of species after the edifice has been fully constructed and regularly applied to a range of examples.

Perhaps we might take the parallel further. It might be worth exploring if we can scaffold learning about natural selection by finding ways to show students that each component of the theory offers some individual conceptual advantages in thinking about aspects of the natural world. That might be an idea worth exploring. 

(Note. 'Representing evolution in science education: The challenge of teaching about natural selection' is published in B. Akpan (Ed.), Science Education: A Global Perspective. The International Edition is due to be published by Springer at the end of June 2016.)

Notes:

* First published 30th April 2016 at http://people.ds.cam.ac.uk/kst24/

** "as Madame Lavoisier, Marie-Anne Pierrette Paulze, was his coworker as well as his wife, and it is not clear how much credit she deserves for 'his' ideas" (Taber, 2019: 90). Due to the times in which they works it was for a long time generally assumed that Mme Lavoisier 'assisted' Antoine Lavoisier in his work, but that he was 'the' scientist. The extent of her role and contribution was very likely under-estimated and there has been some of a re-evaluation. It is known that Paulze contributed original diagrams of scientific apparatus, translated original scientific works, and after Antoine was executed by the French State she did much to ensure his work would be disseminated. It will likely never be know how much she contributed to the conceptualisation of Lavoisier's theories.

*** It has also been argued (in the work of Hasok Chang, for example) both that when the chemical revolution is considered, little weight is usually given to the less successful aspects of Lavoisier's theory, and that phlogiston theory had much greater merits and coherence than is usually now suggested.

Sources cited:
  • Taber, K. S. (2017). Representing evolution in science education: The challenge of teaching about natural selection. In B. Akpan (Ed.), Science Education: A Global Perspective (pp. 71-96). Switzerland: Springer International Publishing
  • Taber, K. S. (2019). The Nature of the Chemical Concept: Constructing chemical knowledge in teaching and learning. Cambridge: Royal Society of Chemistry.
  • Thagard, P. (1992). Conceptual Revolutions. Oxford: Princeton University Press.

So who's not a clever little virus then?

The COVID-19 virus is not a clever or sneaky virus (but it is not dumb either) 1

Keith S. Taber

Image by Syaibatul Hamdi from Pixabay 

One of the things I have noticed in recent news reports about the current pandemic is the tendency to justify our susceptibility to the COVID-19 coronavirus by praising the virus. It is an intelligent and sneaky foe, and so we have to outwit it.

But no, it is not. It is a virus. It's a tiny collection of nucleic material packaged in a way that it can get into the cells which contain the chemical resources required for the virus to replicate. It is well suited to this, but there is nothing intelligent about the behaviour. (The virus does not enter the cell to reproduce any more than an ice cube melts to become water; or a hot cup of coffee radiates energy to cool down; or a toddler trips over to graze its knee rather than because gravity acts on it.) The virus is not clever nor sneaky. That would suggest it can adapt its behaviour, after reflecting upon feedback from its interactions with the environment. It cannot. Over generations viruses change – but with a lot of variations that fail to replicate (the thick ones in the family?)

Yet any quick internet search finds references to the claimed intellectual capacities of these deadly foes. Now of course an internet search can find references to virtually anything – but I am referring to sites we might expect to be authoritative, or at least well-informed. And this is not just a matter of a hasty response to the current public health emergency as it is not just COVID 19, but, it seems, viruses generally that are considered intellectually superior.

Those smart little viruses

The site Vaccines Today has a headline in a posting from 2014, that "Viruses are 'smart', so we must be smarter", basing its claims on a lecture by Colin Russell, Royal Society University Research Fellow at Cambridge University. It reports that "Dr Russell says understanding how 'clever' viruses are can help us to outsmart them". (At least there are 'scare quotes' in some of these examples.)

An article from 2002 in an on-line journal has the title "The contest between a clever virus and a facultatively clever host". Now I have moaned about the standard of many new internet journals, but this is the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, and the article is in volume 95, so I think it is safe to apply the descriptor 'well-established' to this journal.

A headline in Science news for Students (published by Society for Science & the Public) from 2016 reads "Sneaky! Virus sickens plants, but helps them multiply". I am sure it would not take long to find many other examples. An article in Science refers to a "nasty flu virus".

Sneaky viruses

COVID-19 is a sneaky virus according to a doctor writing in the Annals of Internal Medicine. Quite a few viruses seem to be sneaky – the the human papillomavirus is according to an article in the American Journal of Bioethics. The World Health Organisation considers that a virus that causes swine fever, H1N1, is sneaky according to an article in Systematic Reviews in Pharmacy, something also reported by the BMJ.

There are many references in the literature to clever viruses, such as Epstein‐Barr virus according to a piece in the American Journal of Transplantation. The Hepatitis C virus is clever according to an article in Clinical Therapeutics.

Science communication as making the unfamiliar, familiar

Science communication is a bit like teaching in that the purpose of communication is often to be informative (rather than say, social cohesion, like a lot of everyday conversation {and, by the way,it was another beautiful day here in Cambridgeshire today, blue sky – was it nice where you are?}) and indeed to make the unfamiliar, familiar. Sometimes we can make the unfamiliar familiar by showing people the unfamiliar and pointing it out. 'This is a conical flask'. Often, however, we cannot do that – it is hard to show someone hyperconjugation or hysteresis or a virus specimen. Then we resort to using what is familiar, and employing the usual teacher tricks of metaphor, analogy, simile, modelling, graphics, and so forth. What is familiar to us all is human behaviour, so personification is a common technique. What the virus is doing, we might suggest, is hijacking the cell's biochemical machinery, as if it is a carefully planned criminal operation.

Strong anthropomorphism and dead metaphors

This is fine as far as it goes – that is, if we use such techniques as initial pedagogic steps, as starting points to develop scientific understanding. But often the subsequent stage does not happen. Perhaps that is why there are so many dead metaphors in the language – words introduced as metaphors, which over time have simple come to be take on a new literal meaning. Science does its fair share of borrowing – as with charge (when filling a musket or canon). Dead metaphors are dead (that is metaphorical, of course, they were never actually alive) because we simply fail to notice them as metaphors any more.

There are probably just as many references to 'clever viruses' referring to computer viruses as to microbes – which is interesting as computer viruses were once only viruses metaphorically, but are now accepted as being another type of virus. They have become viruses by custom and practice, and social agreement.

Whoever decided to first refer to the covalent bond in terms of sharing presumably did not mean this in the usual social sense, but the term has stuck. The problem in education (and so, presumably, public communication of science) is that once people think they have an understanding, an explanation that works for them, they will no longer seek a more scientific explanation.

So if the teacher suggests an atom is looking for another electron (a weak form of anthropomorphism, clearly not meant to be taken too seriously – atoms are not entities able to look for anything) then there is a risk that students think they know what is going on, and so never seek any further explanation. Weak anthropomorphism becomes strong anthropomorphism: the atom (or virus) behaves like a person because it has needs and desires just like anyone else.

Image by Tumisu from Pixabay 

Why does it matter?

Perhaps in our current situation this is not that important – the public health emergency is a more urgent issue than the public understanding of the science. But it does matter in the long term. Viruses are not clever – they have evolved over billions of years, and a great many less successful iterations are no longer with us. The reason it matters is because evolution is often not well understood.

As an article in Evolution News and Science Today (a title that surely suggests a serious science periodical about evolution) tells us again that "Viruses are, to all appearances, very clever little machines" and asks "do they give evidence of intelligent design" (that is, rather than Darwinian natural selection, do they show evidence of having an intelligent designer?) After exploring some serious aspects of the science of viruses, the article concludes: "So it seems that viruses are intelligently designed" – that is, a position at odds with the scientific understanding that is virtually a consensus view based on current knowledge. Canonical science suggests that natural processes are able to explain evolution. But these viruses are so clever they must surely have been designed (Borg technology, perhaps?)

This is why I worry when I hear that viruses are these intelligent, deliberate agents that are our foes in some form of biological warfare. It is a dangerous way of thinking. So, I'm concerned when I read, for example, that the cytomegalovirus is not just a clever virus but a very clever virus. Indeed, according to an article in Cell Host & Microbe "CMV is a very clever virus that knows more about the host immune system and cell biology than we do". Hm.

(Read about 'anthropomorphism')

Footnote:

1. The subheading was amended on 4th October 2021, after it was quite rightly pointed out to me that the original version, "COVID-19 is not a clever or sneaky virus (but it is not dumb either)", incorrectly conflated the disease with the virus.