Author: Christie Wilcox

Dr. Christie Wilcox is a science writer based in the greater Seattle area. Her bylines include National Geographic, Popular Science, and Quanta. Her debut book, Venomous, released August 2016 (Scientific American/FSG Books). To learn more about her life and work, check out her webpage or follow her on Twitter, Google+, or Facebook.

Your average, everyday zombie

“The purpose of man’s life…is to become an abject zombie who serves a purpose he does not know, for reasons he is not to question.” – Ayn Rand

Of all the cryptic, creepy and cruel creatures that emerge each Halloween, few captivate our imaginations like the living dead. Sure, they look dreadful, smell bad, and have the conversational skills of a well-adjusted slug, but despite their bad manners and constant lust for our brains, zombies have clawed their way into our hearts. It just wouldn’t be Halloween without them.

Like any good monster, the legend of the zombie is based in truth. According to Voodoo traditions, powerful spiritual men called Bokors have the power to kill a man and then raise him from the dead, turning him into a zombi, a mindless slave to the Bokor who created him. As outsiders began to look into the myths, they discovered that these sinister sorcerers use a chemical cocktail, including the deadly poison tetrodotoxin, to mimic the physiological signs of death. This zombi juice doesn’t just slow the victim’s heart rate – the toxic mix has lasting effects on the human brain including memory loss and delirium, making them ideal slaves. Once the target is declared dead and buried, the Bokor can dig up the grave and claim his zombi.

While Bokors have been tinkering with brain chemistry to make the perfect zombie for hundreds of years, there are others that have been perfecting the art of zombification for much longer. Parasites are the Victor Frankensteins of the natural world. These mini-neuroscientists turn other creatures into mindless slaves, serving only to further the master’s selfish goals. They do that voodoo better than we do, and they have for eons.

In all of the cases I’m about to present, once the host is infected, they are the living dead. They have no hope of recovery, no chance for redemption. They will perform their acts as needed by their parasitic Bokor, and only once their bodies have served their function will the zombie be released into the sweet arms of eternity.

The zombie, it stings

While they might lack the lust for brains, parasitic wasps are the masters of neurological zombification. The emerald cockroach wasp, for example, turns its cockroach host into an ill-fated nanny. With carefully placed stings which inject a venom cocktail into the roach’s brain, the wasp puts the roach into a zombie-like state where it happily follows its attacker to a dark chamber underground. The wasp then lays her eggs in the complacent roach and seals it in its tomb. Soon enough, the eggs hatch, eat, pupate, and emerge while the cockroach sits and waits for its body to be consumed.

But perhaps it is the parasitic wasp Cotesia glomerata that most deserves the title of master. Females lay their eggs in unsuspecting caterpillars. When the larvae hatch, they literally eat their host from the inside out. But even more incredible is the caterpillar’s reaction to such usury: the hapless host transforms into an undead bodyguard, protecting the young wasps even after they have gorged themselves on the caterpillar’s internal organs. The mostly-eaten victim will even spin a silk web over the pupated wasps which just feasted on its flesh, a final act of devotion to its Bokors, before it dies. What chemical spell the larvae cast on their host to instill such loyalty remains a mystery.

Fly me to the grave

They might look like fruit flies, but Phorid flies are more than just a harmless pest – at least to the ants which serve as host for the fly’s larvae. Phorid flies are the ideal Hollywood zombie parasite, complete with a hunger for neurological tissue. Gruesome as they might be, you gotta give the flies points for style.

Phorid fly larvae hatching from an
ant's head, from National Geographic


First, the momma fly injects her eggs into the body cavity of the ant host. Once they hatch, the larvae make their way to the ant’s head, where they feed on hemolymph (ant blood), muscle, and nervous tissue (aka brraaaaaiiiiiinnnnssss). The larval flies will spend weeks inside the head of their host, controlling its behavior while snacking on its brains until they have completely emptied the ant’s head. The ant, meanwhile, wanders around in a zombie-like state. When the young fly decides it is ready to pupate, it releases an enzyme which decapitates the ant by dissolving the membrane which attaches its head to its body. The larva pupates in the ant’s disembodied head for about two more weeks, then emerges as a full-grown adult, ready to mate and find its own zombie host.

Other flies turn wasps into murderous zombie queens. Xenos vesparum larvae wait patiently until a wasp lands close by. When it senses its victim, the larva leaps onto the wasp and burrows through its exoskeleton into its abdomen, and begins feasting on the wasp’s blood. As it grows, the larva starts to mess with the wasp’s mind. The normally social wasp withdraws from its colony, and starts to act recklessly. Then, in early summer, the infected wasp just leaves its colony behind, and as if under some spell, travels to a meeting place. Soon, other parasitized wasps arrive, and the parasites begin to mate. The male flies emerge from the wasps and seek out the females which remain in their zombie hosts, granting the men access to the only part needed for reproduction.

The wasps which were lucky enough to be infected by male flies die. Those infected with females, though, are still under the control of their parasites. They begin to act like wasp queens, gathering food and gaining weight. They then travel to sites where queens gather in the fall, and spend the winter in the lap of luxury among other wasp royalty. When the seasons change and the wasps emerge, the zombie queens go back to their colonies, carrying their deadly load of fly larvae. Everywhere they travel, larvae are left behind, waiting for the next unsuspecting wasp to land.

Rosemary’s baby barnacle

Most parasites are really, really small. But not all zombifying parasites are itsy-bitsy. Take, for example, the Rhizocephalans – the parasitic barnacles.

Yes, I did just say parasitic barnacle, although they don’t look much like barnacles as adults. The adult parasites look like a sac where a female crab would have eggs. It’s classified as a barnacle, however, due to its larval forms, specifically the cypris larvae, which neatly place it in the class Cirripedia.

The barnacle’s strategy is simple: find a crab. Stop her from shedding so she can’t get rid of you. Tap into her nervous and circulatory systems and get comfortable. Grow. Sterilize her, so nothing competes for your living space. As you get too big to fit inside, pretend to be an egg sac. Have her bathe you in water, take gentle care of you, and feed you nutrients because she thinks she’s pregnant. She’ll even help you spread your larvae like they’re her own eggs by fanning them into the water.

However, there is an obvious problem. Not every crab is female, and thus predisposed to tending its eggs. So what does the parasite do when it accidentally infects a male crab instead? Well, it’s simple, really. It makes it act like a woman.

That’s right – the parasite turns male crabs into transvestites.

By altering hormones in the male crab’s neurophysiology, it causes the male crab to act like a female one. Its abdomen flattens and widens, and it starts taking on the behavioral traits of a pregnant female. The male goes through the same process of nurturing and caring for its wee little parasite babies that the female would. The big boy will continue to love, adore and feed its little parasitic baby until he dies, just like a girl crab would.

Swimming with the fishes

Spinochordodes tellinii, also known as a hairworm, are free-living aquatic organisms as adults, who, as nematodes, eek out an existence in the mud. Their young, though, thrive on the flesh of crickets. Problem is, crickets don’t always hang around wet places, and if the nematode were to leave its host when it’s somewhere high and dry, it would die. What better way to ensure that it ends up where it wants to be than to drive the unwitting cricket host to suicide by drowning?

How exactly the worm control the cricket’s brain is unknown, but theories suggest that the parasite has developed a way to mimic natural chemical signals in the bug’s brain. Analysis of the compounds of infested brains reveals heightened levels of neurotransmitters and chemicals responsible for movement and orientation, particularly with relation to gravity. These proteins are similar to the ones produced by the insect, but are not naturally occurring, suggesting that the parasite is able to produce and excrete its own chemical signals to screw with the cricket’s mind. The end result of which, much to the parasite’s joy, is that the cricket seeks out water and hops right in. More often than not, the act is fatal – crickets are terrible swimmers, and most who leap into the cool depths drown. This assisted suicide gives the parasite the chance to break free and wiggle its way easily down to the mud, where it continues its life cycle.

More than a fluke

Trematodes, or flukes, are known for their complex life cycles which involve multiple hosts. Often, switching from host to host is facilitated by predatory interactions. Dicroelium dentriticum, a trematode which lives in the livers of sheep, is no exception. The trouble is, its intermediate host is an ant, and sheep aren’t generally known for their hunger for ants. So how does a parasitic fluke get from an ant to a sheep?

Well, actually, it starts with a snail. The snail accidentally eats the fluke’s eggs while going along its merry snail way, and the parasite hatches and develops in the snail’s gonads. Eventually, the fluke is excreted in the snail’s slime, which is conveniently eaten by an ant. This is where things get weird. Once infected, the ant continues about its business as normal – for the most part. By day the ant acts like an ant. But as the sun goes down, the parasite takes over. Every night, the zombie ant will leave its colony behind and search for a blade of grass. When it finds one, it climbs to the top, bites down, and waits until sunrise. Night after night, the ant will dutifully wait atop its blade until it gets accidentally eaten by a grazing sheep, thus completing its enslaver’s life cycle.

Who said zombies aren’t fungis?

Even microscopic fungi get in on the zombifying trend. The fungus Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is yet another zombifying parasite targeting ants (they really get the short end of the zombie stick). It’s all well and good to target ants, but a bit of a dilemma for the fungus arose from its choice of host: the fungus needs the perfect combination of light, humidity and temperature to survive, and those conditions don’t exist on the ground. Ants generally live on the ground, and thus shouldn’t be good housing for Ophiocordyceps. Not to worry, though – the fungus has engineered a mind-altering solution.

Ants infected with Ophiocordyceps unilateralis find themselves compelled to amble far from their homes, climb trees or sprouts, and end up on the bottom side of a leaf where they clamp down their jaws and wait while the fungus eats them from the inside out. What’s incredible is the precision with which these zombied ants choose their final resting place: they all choose to die on the vein on the bottom of a north-facing leaf approximately 25 cm above the ground in an area with 94 to 95 percent humidity and between 20 and 30 degrees Celsius – perfect conditions for the fungus to grow. After a few weeks, spores fall from the now fully eaten corpse to infect other ants and continue the fungus’ life cycle.

Time – and brain chemistry – heal all wounds

I know I’m not physically hurt. Though it feels like I’ve been kicked in the stomach with steel-toed boots, my abdomen isn’t bruised. Spiking cortisol levels are causing my muscles to tense and diverting blood away from my gut, leading to this twisting, gnawing agony that I cannot stop thinking about. I can’t stop crying. I can’t move. I just stare at the ceiling, wondering when, if ever, this pain is going to go away.

It doesn’t matter that my injuries are emotional. The term heartache isn’t a metaphor: emotional wounds literally hurt. The exact same parts of the brain that light up when we’re in physical pain go haywire when we experience rejection. As far as our neurons are concerned, emotional distress is physical trauma.

Evolutionary biologists would say that it’s not surprising that our emotions have hijacked the pain system. As social creatures, mammals are dependent from birth upon others. We must forge and maintain relationships to survive and pass on our genes. Pain is a strong motivator; it is the primary way for our bodies tell us that something is wrong and needs to be fixed. Our intense aversion to pain causes us to instantly change behavior to ensure we don’t hurt anymore. Since the need to maintain social bonds is crucial to mammalian survival, experiencing pain when they are threatened is an adaptive way to prevent the potential danger of being alone.

Of course, being able to evolutionarily rationalize this feeling doesn’t make it go away.

I lie flattened, like the weight of his words has literally crushed me. I need to do something, anything to lessen this ache. The thought crosses my mind to self medicate, but I quickly decide against that. Mild analgesics like ibuprofen would be useless, as they act peripherally, targeting the pain nerves which send signals to the brain. In this case, it is my brain that is causing the pain. I would have to take something different, like an opioid, which depresses the central nervous system and thus inhibits the brain’s ability to feel. Tempting as that might be, painkillers are an easy – and dangerous – way out. No, I need to deal with this some other way.

Slowly, I sit up and grab the guitar at the foot of my bed.

Where music comes from, or even why we like and create music, is still a mystery. What we do know is that it has a powerful effect on our brains. Music evokes strong emotions and changes how we perceive the world around us. Simply listening to music causes the release of dopamine, a neurotransmitter linked to the brain’s reward system and feelings of happiness. But even more impressive is its effect on pain. Multiple studies have shown that listening to music alters our perception of painful stimuli and strengthens feelings of control. People are able to tolerate pain for longer periods of time when listening to music, and will even rate the severity of the sensation as lower, suggesting that something so simple as a melody has a direct effect on our neural pathways.

So, too, does self expression. Expressive writing about traumatic, stressful or emotional events is more than just a way to let out emotion – college students told to write about their most upsetting moments, for example, were found to be in remarkably better health four months later than their counterparts who wrote on frivolous topics. These positive results of self-expression are amplified when the product is shared with others. While negative emotions may have commandeered our pain response, art has tapped into the neurochemical pathways of happiness and healing.

So, I begin to write. At first, it is just a jumble of chords and words, haphazardly strung together. But, slowly, I edit and rewrite, weaving my emotions into lyrics. I play it over and over, honing the phrasing, perfecting the sound. Eventually, it begins to resemble a song:

    (lyrics)

The rush of dopamine loosens the knot in my stomach ever so slightly. For now, the agony is dulled. Still, I can’t help but think that I’m never going to really feel better – that the memory of this moment will be seared into my brain, and a mental scar will always be there, torturing me with this intense feeling of loss.

Scientifically, I know I’m wrong. As I close my eyes, I am comforted by the thought that the human brain, though capable of processing and storing ridiculous amounts of information, is flawed. The permanence of memory is an illusion. My memory of this moment will weaken over time. It will be altered by future experiences, until what I envision when I try to recall it will be only a faint reflection of what I actually feel. Eventually, this pain won’t overwhelm me, and I will finally be able to let go.

Social Media For Scientists Part 3: Win-Win

I confidently believe that increasing the use of social media for outreach by scientists will positively affect how the public views and understands science. I stand by my statement that part of our job is to improve science communication, and as the world turns to the internet, social media is vital to that cause.

So let’s get selfish for a moment here: I’m telling you that you should take the extra time to add social media to your schedule (see my post on having time, too). But we all know that it’s hard to convince people to do something unless it directly benefits them (which is why we have tax write-offs for charitable donations, for example). So what do you, as a scientist, have to gain from engaging in social media?

A lot, actually. Here are five big ways that social media benefits you directly.

1. If It Was Worth Doing, It’s Worth Telling Someone About

Science is a labor of love. You do what you do because you think it matters, and you publish your research because you think it’s worth talking about. What better way to make sure your research is talked about than to start the conversation?

Just ask Peter Janiszewski, of Obesity Panacea. Last year, he and his colleague published a fascinating paper in the prestigious journal Diabetes Care. The problem was, it went unnoticed. For three months, his study wasn’t blogged about. It wasn’t picked up by the press. No one seemed to care.

But Peter cared. He decided that the paper fit well into his blog’s theme, and wrote a 5-part series on the topic of metabolically-healthy obesity, the final post of which was a discussion of his recently published paper.

The series was a hit. Peter’s blog posts received over 12,000 pageviews and more than 70 comments from readers during the week of the series. As Peter recounts, “Put another way, the same research which I published in a prestigious medical journal and made basically no impact, was then viewed by over 12,000 sets of eyes because I decided to discuss it online.” A few days later, an article about his study was published on MSNBC.com.

Sure, Peter’s tale might be exceptional, but the point is there is a lot of potential to expand the reach of your research over social media. This kind of exposure isn’t just for the sake of communication. As Daniel McArthur noted, “A fairly hefty proportion of the readership of most science blogs consists of other scientists, so having your work disseminated in these forums both increases your profile within the scientific community, promotes thoughtful discussion of your work and can lead to opportunities for collaboration.”.

It should be mentioned that multiple studies have shown media attention can positively influence how often a paper is cited1,2. Sure, blogging, tweeting or facebooking about your paper won’t guarantee it’ll be cited more, but it certainly won’t hurt.

Even if you’re paper is already being talked about, it’s important that you are a part of that conversation. As Paul Knoepfler wrote in a comment for NatureNews, “Savvy scientists must increasingly engage with blogs and social media… Even if you choose not to blog, you can certainly expect your papers and ideas will increasingly be blogged about. So there it is – blog or be blogged.”

Social media allows you to respond to and correct attacks or errors made by other bloggers, scientists, members of the press or politicians. As GrrlScientist explains in a post about scientists blogging, “a blog can be used to rapidly correct errors in mainstream media reporting, and to highlight the value of one’s findings while doing so. But perhaps most important, a blog provides scientists with a public platform where they can defend their research from misuse or misrepresentation by politicians and corporations that seek to abuse scientific data to bolster their agendas.”

In a nutshell, if you want your research to be out there and done right, there’s a strong benefit to you being the involved in the online conversation.

2. Networking x 1000

Part of social media is inherent in the name: you have to be social. Being social has this funny side effect of introducing you to new people and allowing you to create new contacts, both in the academic realm and outside it.

I don’t have to stress the importance of this kind of networking in a career. Scientists already go to meetings with the express purpose of networking. We know networking matters. Think of social networks as conference mingling on steroids: instead of rubbing elbows with a handful of scientists, you’re chatting with thousands of people from all walks of life, any of whom might become an important contact later on.

Yes, this might seem like choosing quantity over quality, but these networks aren’t just superficial – even those loose acquaintanceships can be beneficial. For example,social media can increase fundraising efforts by 40%. The more casual followers you have, the more the things you say will be disseminated through the ripple effect.

But even more importantly, a percentage of those online interactions will blossom into more. I know firsthand that this can occur – one of my collaborators on my PhD first met me through blogging. Others have shared similar stories. Bertalan Mesko of Scienceroll.com feels that “blogging and Twitter don’t just help me in my research but totally changed the way I interact with other researchers and collaborators.” Similarly, for John Fossella, who blogs at Genes to Brains to Mind to Me, social networking has expanded his scientific network. “Instead of getting feedback from the same handful of folks I regularly see in the lab, I’m getting comments and new ideas from folks who I used to work with 5, 10 and even 20 years ago, not to mention new folks who I’ve struck up online interactions with.”

When I asked my twitter followers what they gained from social media, they echoed these sentiments. Kiyomi Deards (@KiyomiD) said that social media has opened “publication, collaboration and speaking opportunities that would have been otherwise closed”. MarieClaire Shanahan (@mcshanahan), too, noted that she has made great connections to colleagues through twitter, and even gotten speaking invites. And for Sara C (@SciencingSara), tweeting is her “favorite way to keep up with current research and what technology scientists are currently utilizing.”

3. You Want Broader Impacts? I Got Yer Broader Impacts Right Here

You don’t have to make blogging or tweeting your primary form of outreach. Whatever outreach you might engage in, social media will amplify, allowing you to expand your efforts. I’ve had blog posts translated into Chinese, Romanian, and French, for example – my small effort broadcast out far beyond any audience I could reach on my own. This kind of expansion of reach is only good for you – after all, NSF calls them “broader” impacts for a reason.

All you have to do is be a little creative. Let’s say your lab currently does community outreach by going into local schools and talking about science, for example. Imagine how many more school kids could be reached if you made the materials you create or your lessons available online, complete with an outline of how the day was structured and reflections afterwards.

Or, let’s say you organize volunteering events which benefit the environment, like beach cleanups or invasive species removal efforts. How many more helping hands do you think you’d get if you posted them as facebook events or developed a network of local tweeps who like to volunteer?

Yes, there are lots of ways to make a difference without social media. But for each of those ways, social media can enhance and expand the impacts, allowing localized, small-scale efforts to become global.

4. It’s Not Narcissistic To Google Yourself

I have two words for you: Personal Branding.

Once upon a time, opinions of a person were based on resumes and references. Then came Facebook and Google. Suddenly, in a little less than a second, a potential employer or colleague can learn a lot about you. After all, the internet never forgets.

In fact, as the world turns to the web, if you don’t have a presence there, it seems odd. Just ask Danah Boyd, an Assistant Professor at NYU and a visiting researcher at Harvard Law. “There is no doubt that all faculty searches include a Google search,” writes Boyd. “One of the things I hear most frequently about a new hire is how disturbing it is that he doesn’t have a web presence. Something must be wrong, right?”

Being active on social media allows you to build and manage your web presence. Suddenly, you are controlling what appears as a top search result for your name. Potential collaborators or employers will find what you want them to, instead of what might be lingering around without you realizing it.

The best part is that they’ll get to see the real you. If you’re a good fit, they’ll be able to get that impression from your twitter feed or blog posts. Instead of being a name and a resume, you’ll be a person – and you’ve already begun charming them, even before they’ve met you face to face.

5. Practice Your Mad Skillz

No matter how good you might naturally be at anything, there is always room for improvement. I can say with full confidence that engaging in social media will improve skills which are beneficial to your career as a scientist. Most obviously, you’ll improve as a communicator. Tweeting, for example, forces you to express thoughts clearly and concisely. Blogging allows you to practice writing. As Drew Conway wrote, “a wonderful side effect of [blogging] is that the overall quality of your work will also increase, as you become a better writer, researcher and conveyer of complex ideas.”

Not only will you practice skills you already have, you might find you learn some new ones. I had never learned HTML before blogging – now, I’m in charge of updating and relaunching my lab’s website. Without a doubt, I am more marketable because of the skills that social media has forced me to learn and hone.

Citations

  1. Phillips DP, Kanter EJ, Bednarczyk B, & Tastad PL (1991). Importance of the lay press in the transmission of medical knowledge to the scientific community. The New England journal of medicine, 325 (16), 1180-3 PMID: 1891034
  2. KIERNAN, V. (2003). Diffusion of News about Research Science Communication, 25 (1), 3-13 DOI: 10.1177/1075547003255297

Posts In This Series:

September’s Scishimi: Musings on menstrual blood and spraying sperm.

Sorry I’m a week late in posting this: it’s been a busy October so far. Without further ado…

This just in: women aren’t toxic.

You get more stubborn when people tell you you’re wrong.

In case you haven’t heard, Border’s closed. They have a message for all bookstore patrons.

NERD.

Science museums are failing grown-ups. Or maybe it’s just because adults can’t think as scientifically as kids?

The evolution of collective violence.

There’s something to be said for spraying others with sperm (at least if you’re a squid.)

Flashing attracts the wrong crowd.

How good is your color vision? A fun online test.

A truly awesome video of peacock spider dancing.

I. Hate. Politics.

The rivalry between lions and hyenas has been around for a long time. Now for the fossil evidence of a devious lion with an ugly scar joining up with the hyenas to take over the savannah…

That which they give, they can take away.

Nothing is more frightening than the teenage brain.

You’re never really living in the moment.

A stunning slideshow of the evolution of feathers. Go. Watch. Now.

“In many respects, the history of technology is a history of failed machines”

A dolphin’s whistle isn’t a whistle at all.

We spend more money when relaxed. I must have been really relaxed this month…

Turns out evolution favors complex brains – enough for them to have arisen a lot.

Can stem cells be used to rescue endangered species?

Oh, and PETA gets into porn.

A Moral Gene?

If our moral psychology is a Darwinian adaptation, what does that say about human nature? About social policy, which always presupposes something about human nature? About morality itself?

– Steven Pinker

Morality is often considered to be the domain of philosophers, not biologists. But scientists have often wondered what role our genomes play in directing our moral compass. Today, a paper was published in the open access journal PLoS ONE which found moral decision making was influenced by different forms of a single gene.

Picture yourself standing at branching train tracks with a unstoppable train barreling towards you. On one side, an evil villain has tied five people, while on the other, he has tied only one. You’ve got the switch in your hands which chooses which track the train goes down. Do you feel it’s morally acceptable to choose to kill the one instead of the five?

The scenario above is an example of foreseen harm. When such harm is unintentional, like in the train situation, most people are willing to go with Spock and say that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. But previous research has found that people taking a particular group of antidepressants called selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs) were different – overall, they were less willing to say that killing the one person is morally justified, even if it’s unavoidable.

Serotonin is a chemical released at the junctions between nerves as a part of signaling in the brain. Since lower levels of serotonin are linked to sadness and depression, it is thought that by preventing the reuptake of serotonin, SSRIs fake higher overall serotonin levels and thus boost happy feelings.

But the connection between SSRIs and morality got Abigail Marsh and her colleagues from Georgetown University and the National Institutes of Health thinking. They knew that natural variation in serotonin reuptake ability exists in the population because of alterations in the promoter for one of the serotonin transmitter genes. People with the long form of the promoter (L) have normal levels of reuptake, while those with a truncated version (S) have reduced serotonin reuptake, similar to taking an SSRI. The researchers wondered if this natural variation influenced moral decision making in the same way that treatment with an SSRI does.

So, they took 65 healthy volunteers and tested their genes to see what versions of the promotor they had. Overall, 22 had two copies of the long form of the gene (LL), 30 had one of each (SL), and 13 had two copies of the short form of the gene (SS). They then asked these individuals to rate the overall morality of a variety of scenarios, including ones like the one above where one person is unintentionally harmed to save five others.

The results were clear: although the three groups showed no differences when presented with morally neutral scenarios or those where harm is intentionally caused to an individual, there were significant differences between groups when it came to scenarios of foreseen harm. Those with the long form of the promoter were much more willing to approve of harming one person to protect five. They felt that doing so was the better moral choice:

Those with the short form of the gene, however, felt that harming the one was morally neutral.

“I think this study is useful in helping to point out that maybe the way people arrive at their moral intuitions is just different for different people, in ways that are very deeply rooted,” says Marsh, the lead author, in a press release. Indeed, moral decision making may be as deeply rooted as it can be – that is, in our genomes.

Of course, as the quote from Steven Pinker at the beginning alluded, this kind of result leads to bigger questions. How has natural selection shaped what we think is right and wrong? How much of our moral code is influenced by our genes? And what does this say about the nature of morality itself?

Research: Marsh, A., Crowe, S., Yu, H., Gorodetsky, E., Goldman, D., & Blair, R. (2011). Serotonin Transporter Genotype (5-HTTLPR) Predicts Utilitarian Moral Judgments PLoS ONE, 6 (10) DOI: 10.1371/journal.pone.0025148

Social Media for Scientists Part 2.5: Breaking Stereotypes

Ok, I swear I will get to Part 3 soon. But first, I want to comment on some of the critiques of my article.

There are two main ones: this post by Steven Hamblin and this one, by Kevin Zelnio. Both seem to suggest that I made the argument that “all scientists have to do is get a Twitter account and a blog and magic will happen.”

But both missed my point. I wasn’t saying “build it and they will come” – I was saying “don’t build it and they can’t come”.

More and more, people are turning to the internet for news, information, and conversation. If the scientists aren’t there, they won’t be included in the dialogue. End of story.

Kevin argues that it’s about reach. That blogging or tweeting won’t really reach anyone, and is thus not necessarily worth it, but I disagree. First off, Part 3 will go into detail about what the scientist gets out of all of this even if no one reads it. Second off, so what if my post only reaches three people? That’s three more people who can name a living scientist. Three more people who care about the research I am doing in my lab. Three more people who I communicated my science to successfully. I personally think those three people matter. They are worth my time and effort, and they are enough. As I said in my second post, it’s not about being popular, having a thousand twitter followers or getting millions of pageviews a month – it’s about making yourself and your research searchable and accessible.

For that matter, imagine if every lab reached three people. That wouldn’t be a total of three people – it would be thousands. And those thousands would actually be themselves plus the friends, family and colleagues they tell about what they learned and who they learned it from. Don’t underestimate the power of reaching three people.

But what disturbs me more is that both posts seem to operate on a flawed assumption. You can hear it echoed when Steven says “they do good science, but they make for terrible speakers” or when Kevin writes “we shouldn’t expect every scientist to want to do this and many should, in fact, NOT engage with the public!”. It’s the same assumption made by Randy Olson when he wrote Don’t Be Such A Scientist. It’s the assumption that the stereotypical scientist is the norm for the profession.

By the stereotypical scientist, I mean that gruff, elitist misanthrope with crazy hair and the social skills of a wet blanket. They’re not alone in portraying scientists that way – that is exactly what the public thinks scientists are like, too. But from what I’ve experienced in Academia, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Of all the scientists I have met, only a very small percentage fit the bill. Most are like most of the farmers, plumbers, lawyers, and salespeople I’ve met – that is, they’re just like everyone else.

They go out and hit clubs on a Friday night. Or they have happy, healthy kids who are athletes or musicians. They are, if anything, scarily normal people who all just happen to be good at and like science.

My whole point with saying scientists should be active in social media is that it’s not just about getting the research out there, it’s about getting the scientists out there, too, so we can break the very stereotype that Steven and Kevin use as a reason for scientists not to get engaged.

Sure, scientists could be better communicators. But by and large, I think we’re not too bad at it. Good communication skills are how we get grants from non-scientific agencies like National Geographic or NGOs. Social skills are how we network at conferences, not just with each other but media specialists, government officials, and the locals we meet at the bar after hours. De-jargoning what we do for a living is how we tell our kids, parents and grandparents about our research.

I know that not every scientist will do what I propose (though, to be fair, I didn’t say every scientist – I said every lab, but I digress). I don’t think every scientist has to be on twitter. But I do think every scientist should consider the dissemination of their research a crucial part of their job. It’s not naïve to think that social media is an important part of doing that – it’s naïve to think that we can make any kind of impact on the global scale without it.

** Given the comments, I want to add that I’m not arguing that social media is the only way for scientists to reach out to the community at large, and other ways are important, too. I will contend, though, that all kinds of outreach can be improved by adding social media to the mix.

Posts In This Series:

Observations: Reverse Bestiality

The submissions are now in for The Open Laboratory 2011, an anthology of the best science blogging of the year. There are 721 great science posts in the chase for 52 slots in the anthology! I’m more than flattered that four of my posts were nominated. Three of them are already here on the Scientific American Blog Network: How Do You ID A Dead Osama?, Why Do Women Cry? and Mythbusting 101: Organic > Conventional Agriculture. So this is the last of the four posts which might get a coveted spot among the best science blog posts of the year, originally posted on my old blog in January. Enjoy!

Sexual assault is no laughing matter – unless, of course, the would-be rapist isn’t human. Who doesn’t giggle when they see a small dog humping someone’s leg? But what many people don’t realize is that reverse bestiality – where an animal makes unwanted sexual advances on a person – is a true problem for scientists working in the field where the actions of wild animals are completely unpredictable.

Sure, sexual assault is embarrassing though tolerated when committed by a small, fluffy pomeranian with an overactive sex drive. Most people won’t report the assailant to any kind of authority. It’s even pretty funny when sexual advances are made by large, flightless parrot, even though real harm can be done (as you can see in the video on the right). But what do you do if a much larger creature decides you’re the sexiest thing it’s ever seen?

That is exactly what conservation geneticist Brian Bowen had to ask himself in spring of 2007 when diving off the coast of Australia. It was a beautiful morning for scuba diving. The water was a warm 78.8 ºF with crystal clear visibility of at least 100 feet. Bowen and his team were collecting reef fish specimens for ongoing research into the population genetics and phylogeography of Pacific fish species, when a large, male green sea turtle suddenly approached the divers.

More often than not, sea turtles avoid people. Their natural reaction to scuba divers is to swim away. However, this turtle showed no aversion to the presence of people on his reef. He slowly approached Bowen, staying about six feet off to the side as he passed by. But once behind the confused diver, the turtle suddenly turned around and aimed himself at Bowen’s backside.

Quick to respond, Bowen placed his fish collection device on the side of the turtle, keeping him at a distance. The turtle spun the diver around three times in its attempt to mount, but upon realizing the diver had no intention of allowing such an advance, he eventually gave up and swam away.

Green_sea_turtle_Chelonia_mydas.JPG
The face of a would-be rapist?

A large green sea turtle in the water is quite the force to be reckoned with. Bowen estimated this turtle weighed in at over 220 pounds, more than capable of injuring an adult human being. More frighteningly, as mating attempts often involve pinning to the sea floor, these large beasts have the potential to drown an unsuspecting victim. Bowen learned that male sea turtles are known to make these unwanted advances at divers with some frequency, as numerous others have shared similar stories.

Bruce Gernon, an Islamorada real estate agent diving on vacation, recounts a terrible encounter with a large, male loggerhead sea turtle. “The damn thing really overpowered me,” Gernon told local news columnist Bob Epstein. The reptilian attacker pinned him to the sea floor, scaring him half to death. Gernon goes on to describe the attack in detail:

I shoved a lobster at the turtle who inhaled the crustracean, and then I spun out of its grasp. I felt I was free of the encounter, but then the turtle, with renewed interest, grasped me again with its front flippers from the back and around my shoulders. Once again it attempted to pin me to the bottom. All the while the stupid turtle probed me in my backside. Being a strong swimmer and determined not to be molested any further by this deluded loggerhead, I twisted out of its grasp and made for the surface and my boat.

Bowen & Gernon were lucky that their quick reflexes saved them from potentially dangerous and demeaning situations. Others that Epstein spoke to were not so fortunate. Another male diver, who wished to remain anonymous, told Epstein a turtle attacked him twice, pinning him to the bottom. According to Epstein, the turtle eventually “made good its mating attack on this luckless individual.”

These cases serve as a warning to all that animal sexual assaults are serious and dangerous. It’s likely that the frequency of such incidents is even higher, as the social stigma of being the victim of such events is so strong that many attacks likely go unreported. Upon publishing his article, Epstein received at least 10 calls from other victims who had not spoken up previously.

Why do animals shag other species? It’s hard to say. Evolutionarily speaking, there’s no real point in it. Sexing up a member of another species isn’t going to produce offspring. So did the turtle or the parrot mistake their victims for members of their own species? It seems unlikely – but I guess it’s possible. Or were they just so sex crazed, with their hormones on overdrive, that they simply couldn’t stop themselves? Perhaps a truly prepared scientist can find out, if they’re willing to put themselves at risk of assault for the sake of a blood sample.

I want everyone to know this, though: if you are ever sexually assaulted by an animal, do not be afraid to share your story. You are not alone. While it may be hard to verbalize your trauma, you have to know that it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be attacked. You should also know that by telling of your assault, you are helping others who are not brave enough to do the same. Your account may even help catch a repeat offender. No one should have to feel ashamed by what a wild animal has done to them. No one.

And for those of you who think sexual assault by a turtle or a kakapo is funny: shame on you. Those are real people who have undergone real trauma. Have some compassion! Someday, if karma exists, you may find yourself on the wrong end of an animal’s long stick – and I bet you won’t find it quite so amusing then.

ResearchBlogging.org Citations:

  1. Brian Bowen (2007). Sexual Harassment By A Male Green Turtle (Chelonia mydas) Marine Turtle Newsletter, 117
  2. Epstein, B.T. 1989. Turtle Attack is reported: Loggerhead molests divers. The Reporter (weekly newspaper for the Upper Florida Keys), September 7, 1989, pp. 1-2.

Students need your help!

It’s back! This year’s Science Bloggers For Students giving challenge has commenced!

Every year, science bloggers from around the interwebs team up with DonorsChoose.org to help teachers. Science blogging networks battle to raise the most money to buy supplies for needy classrooms across the country. Last year science bloggers raised over $40,000!

The challenge runs from now until October 22nd. I sincerely hope you’ll follow this link here and join the crusade. I chose to focus my fundraising on projects here in Hawaii because the education system here is dismal – the teachers here need all the help they can get to rise above some of the worst public education infrastructure I’ve ever seen. You should also check out all the other SciAm bloggers and their projects – let’s show the other networks that our readers are the most giving!

Please consider making a donation, even if it’s small. And if you can’t afford to donate, you can still help out by spreading the word on Facebook, Twitter and beyond.

Social Media for Scientists Part 2: You Do Have Time.

If you look at the comments on my last post, it seems like everyone agrees that scientists should be more active online. But when I gave my talk last week, I was hardly met with open arms by the scientists themselves. The grad students were mostly on board, but the tenured faculty were more hesitant. They asked questions like Is there any real evidence that social media makes a difference? What about embargoes and confidentiality clauses? But by far, the most vehement response from the seasoned scientists I talked to is that they simply don’t have time. They have to run a lab, mentor students, teach classes, not to mention do some stuff that that isn’t work-related. Who has time to learn how to use social media platforms, yet alone actually use them?

I already explained why it is essential that more scientists get on social media. From the responses to my post, I’d say at least the public reading my blog agrees. So I was going to focus this second post on what the scientists get out of the deal. But before I do that, I want to address this issue of time. The title of my talk was no accident. I said “every lab should tweet” – not “every scientist should tweet”. I get it. Many scientists really are very busy. I know the PIs of my lab are – they are directly overseeing 32 other lab members, not to mention the other students whose committees they are on. They spend an exorbitant amount of time trying to make sure the lab stays well stocked and has the funding for supplies, stipends, etc. Our lab has published almost 200 papers in the 8 years since it was established. That kind of productivity doesn’t leave room for a lot of free time.

So maybe my PIs don’t have time to write a blog post or two every month. Maybe they can’t stay up to date on twitter and facebook. But you know what? They don’t have to do it alone. We have 34 people in our lab. As I pointed out to my PIs, that means if everyone committed to writing one post a year, we’d average more than two a month. Heck, we all have to work with the press office anyway on any papers we are first author on, and that takes a heck of a lot more time than writing up a little post. Instead of hours per week, a lab like ours could succeed in social media with everyone committing a couple hours a year. If people still want to argue they don’t have time, well, all I can say is bull.

Every lab has the time to do this – even the small ones. I’m not saying you have to send out a tweet every hour or post to Google+ and Facebook daily. You don’t have to spend 4 hours a day replying to facebook posts or commenting like crazy on every blog post on every paper related to your field. The goal isn’t for you to become the most well-read scientist or science blogger in your field – the goal is for you and your research to be out there. So maybe you just write a blog post when you publish a new paper – and maybe that’s once every year or two. That’s OK. Or maybe you want to get more involved in the conversation, but you’re not comfortable jumping on all the networks at once – fine, stick to whichever ones you’re most comfortable with. Try talking to your grad students, who probably have been on some of these sites for years and can show you how they work.

Getting involved with social media is like working out. You know you should do it, even if you find excuses not to. You feel like you don’t have the time, but it’s worth your while to make the time. And no one expects you to go from never having lifted a weight to Mr. Universe pageants overnight. Just start with the basics, force yourself to put in a little effort, and push yourself just past where you’re comfortable.

Because, really, you do have time. I get that individual scientists might not have the time to be really active in social media. But as a lab – heck, as a department if you have to spread the workload around – you have enough time to keep the public up to speed with your research and engage in a dialogue about the science you do.

Saying you don’t have time isn’t just an easy cop out. Just think for a moment about what kind of message we are sending when we say that. “Hey, guys, thanks for all that funding from NSF or NIH that your taxes paid for. We’re doing stellar stuff with it – really groundbreaking. We’re gonna change the world with this… what? You want to know more? Sorry. I don’t have time to explain it.”

In a way, the general public are our customers. Every day, we ask them to spend their time and money supporting science. We tell them what we do is vital, that they need to tell their representatives that science and science funding matter. We want their votes and their tax dollars and for them to take the time to understand the issues scientifically, but then we say we don’t have time to really interact with them? To walk them through what we do, why it’s cool, and get them excited about our research?

Imagine if companies had that kind of attitude. There’s a reason that Apple is so popular – they not only provide cool new products, they have dedicated staff waiting to answer questions or provide training so that everyone can get the most out of what they sell. There would be a lot fewer people interested in buying Apple products if the conversation went more like this: “Hey, Steve Jobs here. We’ve got these great computers. Really magical stuff. Life-changing technology. You really should buy one… what? You want someone to show you the ropes so you can use all our cool new features? Look, if you can’t figure it out for yourselves, we just don’t have the time to explain it to you.”

We can’t rely solely on press offices and journalists to be our liaisons to the rest of the world. If we want people to invest in science – emotionally, physically or monetarily – we have to show them why they should. We have to make at least a little time to communicate. If we really don’t have the time to do that, then we’re doing it wrong.

Posts In This Series: