Welcome to Sci-shimi, my monthly roundup of great science online! Like a delicious, fresh platter of sashimi, these tasty links are meant to be shared —どうぞめしあがれ !
Runner up: Angry Birds Part 1, Barbarism From Above by Jake Buehler. Think birds are fluffy and cute? Think again. (And don’t say I didn’t warn you it is a LONG read…)
I am one of the people who reacted strongly to a science fiction story sexist piece of crap published by Nature in their Futures section titled Womanspace. In it, the Draper-esque protagonist discovers that his wife’s apparently miraculous shopping aptitude is due to her remarkable ability to transit into parallel universes, an extension of her evolutionary success as a ‘gatherer’ as opposed to his innate role as the ‘hunter’.
There was plenty of outrage, but not everyone had the same reaction that I did. Comments supporting (or at least not outright condemning) the author, Ed Rybicki, and the editor who approved the story, Henry Gee, all sound about the same: lighten up, ladies. There’s no call to be angry – it’s just a joke, even if it’s a bad one.
For example, Michele Busby wrote in her defense of Womanspace that we should “cut Ed a break” because, after all, it’s not “worth getting upset about.” A commenter on Janet Stemwedel’s post was more defensive: “Until your response, the sexism was humor. Now, your foolishness makes it an actual issue. Who ACTUALLY harmed interpretation of women?” Meanwhile, though he doesn’t condone the work, Hank Campbell feels that “the “Womanspace” thing was just goofing around, pretty harmless.”
That’s the thing, though. Reinforcing negative gender stereotypes is anything but harmless.
It was Claude Steele and Joshua Aronson who, in 1995, first coined the term stereotype threat. It refers to how the knowledge of a prejudicial stereotype can lead to enough anxiety that a person actually ends up confirming the image. Since that landmark paper, more than 300 studies have found evidence for the pervasive negative effects of societal stereotypes.
When it comes to women, studies have shown that stereotype threat is very real. Women are stereotyped to be worse at math than men due to lower test scores. But it turns out that women only score lower when they are reminded of their gender or take the test in the presence of men. In fact, the greater the number of men in the room with a female test taker, the worse she will do. The gender profile of the environment has no effect, however, on women’s verbal test scores, where no such inferiority stereotype exists.
So, yes, I was outraged to see something which comes off as overtly sexist and reinforces gender stereotypes published under Nature‘s name, whether it was intended to be humorous or not. The result of Womanspace is that women in science feel alienated. It is exactly the kind of environment that contributes to the STEM gender gap. Just listen to how women reacted:
Kate Clancy: “I felt completely alienated and abandoned by a journal that is supposed to publish science”.
Anne Jefferson: “it seems in every way designed to make me feel othered and excluded from the scientific academy”
Ali Kerwein: “I am so disappointed. I admired this publication so much, and now I feel completely disgusted.”
Ed may not have meant to demoralize women scientists when he wrote Womanspace, but by reinforcing the stereotype of the domesticated woman as opposed to the scientific man, he did just that. But even worse, as Anne Jefferson said, by approving of such a piece, Nature has given this kind of sexist attitude their highly-valued stamp of approval.
Shame on you, Nature, for contributing to the kind of environment which leads to stereotype threat – the kind of environment that tells girls they shouldn’t bother becoming a scientist. Because while I can shrug off some bigoted humor, they can’t. They’re the ones harmed by such careless support of antiquated gender roles. I am mad at you for them. You have done wrong by little nerdy girls everywhere, Nature, and you need to acknowledge it. Anything less says that you simply don’t care.
Last year, I entered this $10,000 blogging scholarship on a whim. After all, why not? $10,000 is a lot of money, money that as a poor grad student, I could definitely use. I remember I was so excited when I saw that I’d made it into the list of finalists – the only science blogger in the running. I was even more excited, and a little amazed, when I won, thanks to the incredible support of the science blogging community.
This year, I’m thrilled to see that there are a whopping total of six science bloggers in the race. I’m glad I won last year, because I’d hate to have to compete with the talent in the running now! I encourage you to visit each and every one of the six blogs I’m about to link to, as well as the other finalists. These students need votes to win the scholarship, which means they need your help. All you have to do is follow this link and vote for the one you think deserves to win the most. I also want to encourage you to pass this along and get your friends, family and social networks to do the same.
So, without further ado, here are the science finalists:
Biology Blogs
Yes, I’m listing the bio blogs first. I’m biased. Given my career field of choice, it’s no wonder that these blogs have a special place in my heart. Bio blogs are a whopping 15% of the entries this year – way to go, biology lovers! Here are the three bio-themed blogs, in order of appearance in the overall list:
Ahoy, matey! If you’ve never sailed over to Southern Fried Science before, you don’t know what you’re missing. This marine-themed blog is the perfect blend of science and saltiness. David’s coblogger, Andrew, just posted a nice list of some of David’s best posts, which I highly recommend reading.
It’s not easy to make immunology engaging and interesting, but Heather does a fantastic job of it. She clearly has a passion for what she does, and loves to share it with others. She hopes that her blog will help connect the general public to a field that is often overhyped and misinterpreted – and I’d say she’s off to a damn good start.
I grew up reading prehistorical fiction like The Clan of the Cave Bear. As a child, I wished more than anything I could travel back and time and walk among mammoths. Well, Jacquelyn does, every day. Her job as a paleoecologist is to use clues in the fossil record and from the world around us to recreate and study the past. Her blog brings readers back with her, exploring the science which lets us learn about the world as it once was as well as what it’s like to be a graduate student now, studing animals long since extinct.
Physics & Astronomy
I saw this great cartoon the other day, which definitely applies here. I guess if you can’t study the life on this planet, studying the rest of the universe is not a bad compromise. Two finalists manage to make the non-life sciences fun to read:
A little confession: I almost became a physicist. At least, I listed myself as a physics major when I started undergrad. In the end, I couldn’t hack it as a theoretical physicist, so I have a lot of respect for anyone who can make the Higgs boson into something I actually care about. Philip (or Flip) has a knack for turning some of the most complex topics out there into fun, entertaining reads.
Ray wants to be sure that no astronomy question goes unanswered. If you have a question about our universe, he’ll try to answer it. He started his blog with the express purpose of acting as resource, complete with a good helping of “cheeky shenanigans to help make Astronomy fun and entertaining.”
Data Analysis
What is science without good data analysis? Sure, the last blog on my list isn’t *exactly* a science blog, but he sneaks in here because anyone who finds talking about data to be a fun hobby is a scientist at heart.
Kevin is a perfect example of why this contest is so great. I’d never heard of EdMantics before this, but when I checked out his blog, I was stunned. Who thought data could be so interesting? Kevin writes about presenting and analyzing data as if it is an art form – which, frankly, it is. He gets major kudos from me for turning most scientists’ least favorite part of the job into something beautiful.
Scientists. We’re an enigmatic group of people. On the one hand, we are trailblazers. We’re the innovators and inventors whose job it is, quite literally, to expand the world’s technology through knowledge. We’re quick to see the merit in new methods like fluorescent proteins and hit the ground running with them.
Yet when it comes to social adaptation and technology, we’re more than behind the curve. Although 72% of internet-using Americans are on Facebook, less than 2/3 of college faculty are. Similarly, in one survey, more than half of lab managers said they have never used Facebook.
It may seem of little consequence whether scientists are using social media. That certainly seems to be the attitude of many scientists – social media platforms like Facebook are seen as little more than ways to tell everyone how good the omlette you just made was or convince yourself that your ex’s new girlfriend isn’t prettier than you.
But social media platforms aren’t just digital water coolers. They are the way the world is networking and communicating. They are how and where we share information – with friends, colleagues, acquaintances and any and everyone else.
Last Friday, I gave a talk titled “Science and the Public: Why Every Lab Should Tweet.” My slides can be downloaded here (keynote for now – will get ppt ones soon!), but I want to go over the argument I presented. I have broken this into two parts: this first post covers why, from a global perspective, it is important for scientists to engage in social media. My second post will cover what scientists can gain – personally and professionally – from doing so.
So who cares if scientists are slow to adopt social media? For one, I do. I care because especially here in the US, science is poorly understood. Only 28% of our population can pass a basic science literacy test with questions like “Does the Earth revolve around the sun?” or “Did modern humans live alongside dinosaurs?” Such results might be funny if science weren’t so central to current politics. How can our nation make good decisions on climate change, medical practices or research funding if so little of our population understands even basic science?
Yes, part of the solution to this problem is to invest in better education. But even assuming we do that, we are ignoring the millions of Americans who are no longer in school. We can make the next generation more scientifically literate, but we have to consider the current generations, too. Adults over age of 35 never learned about stem cells, nanotechnology or climate change in school, so they depend on the media to learn what they need to know. These are the people who vote. They are the ones whose taxes pay for scientific funding. We need to reach out to them, and to do that we need their trust.
Contrary to how it might seem, scientists as a group are highly trusted by Americans. We rank second only to military personnel. But this trust is only in a broad sense – as a recent survey by Scientific American and Nature showed, the minute you start asking about specific topics, especially complicated scientific topics like the causes of autism or climate change, that trust fizzles.
How to we build and maintain that trust? We have to communicate better. As Rick E. Borchelt and colleagues wrote in an essay for AAAS, “The scientific community needs to understand what ethical practitioners of public relations have long known: trust is not about information; it’s about dialogue and transparency.”
Right now, science is almost entirely a one-way conversation. Scientists, as a group, pride themslves on doing cutting-edge research and publishing it in the top-tier journals of their field – then most feel that their part in the conversation is over. The problem is, these publications aren’t really communicating science to anyone but other scientists. Articles are kept locked behind expensive paywalls, and even those that are published in open access journals are still inaccessible, as they lie behind what I like to call jargon walls.
It’s not that non-scientists are too stupid to get science. Far from it. The average person simply doesn’t have the specific vocabulary to understand a scientific paper. I’m not stupid, yet when I take my car in to the mechanic, I don’t have the specific vocabulary to understand exactly what is making my check engine light keep turning on.
This jargon wall breeds distrust. Do I overall trust mechanics to know how to fix my car? Sure. But when one starts going on and on about how my timing belt needs adjustment, my fuel injectors need to be replaced, and there’s an oil leak in my engine that needs fixing, do I fully trust that he’s not just making up problems to get me to pay more for repairs? Not for a second.
Even worse, scientists pass the buck when it comes to communicating science. We write the papers, but then hand them off to journalists and say “here, explain this to everyone else.” We hand what we’ve committed years of our life to over to a writer that may have little to no science training and even less passion for the discipline as a whole. Then, we gripe and moan when the science is shottily explained or, worse, completely misinterpreted.
Guess what? As scientists, that is our fault. Sure, some science writers are worse than others. Some are perfectly content to publish hype-driven stories that neglect scientific integrity. Others are amazing – I would trust Ed Yong or Carl Zimmer with even my most precious scientific baby. But it is first and foremost the scientist’s job to share his or her research with the broader community. That means it is the scientist who is ultimately to blame when their research isn’t communicated well.
How can the public trust us when we’re not out there sharing what we do? When they can’t see our passion? When we say we ‘don’t have time’ to interact with them, to explain our research better or answer their questions?
Only 18% of Americans can name a living scientist. That statistic crushes my heart.
When I say scientists should be involved in social media, it is because we need to open that dialogue. If people don’t know who we are or what we do, they will never really care about or trust what we say. Once upon a time I would have said this meant walking down the street and talking to people, but we now live in a digital age. 57% of Americans say they talk to people more online than they do in real life. Scientists need to be on social media because everyone else is already, talking about their thoughts and feelings, having discussions about things they care about, and generally, well, being social.
48% of young Americans check Facebook first thing in the morning. 28% do so before they even get out of bed (including me). There are now more than 200 million tweets posted every day. If you’re trying to communicate but you’re not on social media, you’re like a tree falling in an empty forest – yes, you’re making noise, but no one is listening. It’s not much of a dialogue if you’re the only one talking.
Scientists need to be searchable. We need to be available. We need to take the time to open a dialogue about our research. Yes, it’s going to take up time, which is a rare and precious commodity to the average scientist. Yes, it’s going to take extra effort and dedication. But it will be worth it.
Alan Alda said it perfectly when he asked,
“if scientists could communicate more in their own voices—in a familiar tone, with a less specialized vocabulary—would a wide range of people understand them better? Would their work be better understood by the general public, policy-makers, funders, and, even in some cases, other scientists?”
The answer is YES.
Update: my slideshow for the talk (though it’s much prettier in Keynote… just sayin’)
This week, a paper came out looking at testosterone levels in fathers. A whirlwind of poor journalism followed, which was beautifully smacked down by William Saletan over at Slate (aslo: see this great post on the topic by our very own Kate Clancy). But it reminded me of a similar kerfluffle that occurred this past January over a paper on the effects of sniffing tears. This was my post from Jan 8th on that paper and the media surrounding it, which just so happens to look at the meaning of lowered testosterone levels in terms of evolution.
I don’t think Brian Alexander is a bad guy or a misogynist. He writes the Sexploration column for MSNBC, so sure, his job is all about selling sex stories to the public. He even wrote a book about American sexuality. But I don’t personally think he has a burning hatred for women, or views them as objects placed on this Earth for the sexual satisfaction of men. However, I very easily could, given how he chose to report on a recent study published in Science about men’s physiological responses to the chemicals present in women’s tears.
The headline alone was enough to make me gag — “Stop the waterworks, ladies. Crying chicks aren’t sexy.” The sarcastic bitch in me just couldn’t help but think Why THANK YOU Brian! I’ve been going about this all wrong. When I want to get some from my honey, I focus all my thoughts on my dead dog or my great grandma and cry as hard as I can. No WONDER it isn’t working!
I didn’t even want to read the rest of the article.
But I did.
It doesn’t get better.
Alexander’s reporting of the actual science was quick and simplistic, and couched in sexist commentary (like how powerful women’s tears are as manipulative devices). And to finish things off, he clearly states what he found to be the most important find of the study:
“Bottom line, ladies? If you’re looking for arousal, don’t turn on the waterworks.”
It’s no wonder that the general public sometimes questions whether science is important. If that was truly the aim of this paper, I’d be concerned, too!
Of course, Brian Alexander missed the point. This paper wasn’t published as a part of a women’s how-to guide for getting laid. Instead, the authors sought to determine if the chemicals present in human tears might serve as chemosignals like they do for other animals — and they got some pretty interesting results.
In many species, chemical signals run rampant. Scents, pheromones, and other chemical cues are deliberately and unconsciously given off to tell other individuals anything from “Back Off – MY Tree!” to “Hop on and ride me, baby!” But despite how common they are in the rest of the animal kingdom, the function of chemical signals in humans is hotly debated. Years of searching has yet to find human pheromones (no matter what those websites tell you), and while scent seems to play a role in communication in people, there is still relatively little knowledge as to what chemicals and why.
Given that tears are known to serve as sexual signals in mice, it isn’t strange at all that Noam Sobel and his team chose to look at the physiological responses to tears. The Israeli team designed an impressive and unbiased set of experiments to determine if the tears produced by women when sad elicit physiological responses in men separate of the visual or auditory stimuli of a woman crying.
To find out if tears alone acted as chemosignals, the scientists collected tears from women watching tear-jerkers, and as a control, compared their effects to saline rolled down women’s cheeks. Men sniffed the solutions without any knowledge as to what they were during a series of different experiments. In the first, men with a tear-soaked pad under their nose were asked to rate the sexual attractiveness and mood of female faces. While the smell of saline had no effect, men inhaling Eau de Tears consistently rated women’s faces as less attractive, though this had no impact on whether they found the faces happy or sad.
For the second experiment, men sniffed tears before watching a sad movie. While doing so didn’t affect their mood, the smell of tears did elicit a physiological response: men’s faces became more conductive to electricity, which happens when we sweat and is indicative of a psychological reaction. Furthermore, the men self-reported less sexual arousal, which was reflected in their bodies as a 13% drop in saliva testosterone levels.
But to really get to the meat of it, the team threw their male test subjects into an fMRI machine and scanned their brains for activity while sniffing tears. Researchers saw much less activity in the hypothalamus and the fusiform gyrus, both of which are thought to be involved in sexual arousal. All three experiments lead to the same conclusion: the chemicals in women’s emotional tears reduce male sex drive.
The real question, though, is why? Why do men’s testosterone levels tank at the smell of a woman’s tears? The overwhelming answer given by mainstream media (as Rheanna pointed out) is that tears just aren’t sexy. When women cry, so the journalists say, it’s a chemical signal that they don’t want to have sex. Because evolution is all and only about sex… right?
Sorry to burst their bubble, but even when it comes to evolution, it’s not all about sex. Selection also favors survival — because, you know, you can’t have sex when you’re dead*. Thus women’s tears are not necessarily evolutionarily intended to turn guys off. For example, Ed Yong brings up the hypothesis that tears might be used to downplay aggression. Think about it: we cry when we’re sad or physically in pain. In both cases, we’re more vulnerable. Getting others, especially angry men, to be less aggressive towards us in that moment could certainly be a benefit to survival.
Really, the idea that tears are intentionally used as a turn off is a hard sell to an evolutionary biologist. What benefit do women get from not having sex when crying? Does it somehow make them have healthier or more babies? Not for any reason I can think of.
There is, instead, an even more intriguing explanation, one that makes a whole lot more sense. Many who wrote about this paper (including Brian Alexander) mentioned that tears are known to contain a variety of compounds, including prolactin, the hormone which is responsible for making a guy cool his jets after he gets off. But prolactin does much more than ensure a guy stops going at it — it’s a hugely important hormone for nurturing behaviors. In fact, the connection between reduced testosterone and nurturing/bonding behaviors may be the real reason as to why men’s testosterone levels dip upon sniffing tears.
Perhaps prolactin or other chemical signals in tears are directly targeting and activating the nurturing pathway in men’s brains. Being taken care of or protected when in emotional or physical pain would definitely benefit an individual’s survival. Personally, I would like to see this study of tears replicated to determine women’s responses to the scent as well as men’s reactions when using men’s and children’s tears, as well as looking at the levels of prolactin, oxytocin, and other well-established bonding and empathetic hormones. My bet is the response isn’t limited to men, and isn’t limited to emotional secretions from women.
While Brian Alexander and the rest of the sensationalists seem to suggest the signal is “I’m not in the mood,” its likely that the message has nothing to do with having or not having sex. Women aren’t saying “back off” — they’re saying “help me.”
Why do I care so much? It’s not just that they got it wrong. It’s that their interpretation of research isn’t labeled as opinion. It’s that the vast majority of people who have any interest in science news are going to read inaccurate (if not downright insulting) news articles and think studies like this one are either misogynistic or frivolous. It’s that journalists like Brian Alexander undermine good science for the sake of attention grabbing headlines. And as a scientist and a writer, it’s a double insult.
Gelstein, S., Yeshurun, Y., Rozenkrantz, L., Shushan, S., Frumin, I., Roth, Y., & Sobel, N. (2011). Human Tears Contain a Chemosignal Science DOI: 10.1126/science.1198331
* I can hear the comments now, you sickos, so let me clarify: you can’t have baby-producing sex when you’re dead.
Also, thanks to Kira Krend for the thoughtful and hilarious discussion on this topic!
Other References:
Haga S, Hattori T, Sato T, Sato K, Matsuda S, Kobayakawa R, Sakano H, Yoshihara Y, Kikusui T, & Touhara K (2010). The male mouse pheromone ESP1 enhances female sexual receptive behaviour through a specific vomeronasal receptor. Nature, 466 (7302), 118-22 PMID: 20596023
Fleming, A. (2002). Testosterone and Prolactin Are Associated with Emotional Responses to Infant Cries in New Fathers Hormones and Behavior, 42 (4), 399-413 DOI: 10.1006/hbeh.2002.1840
Storey AE, Walsh CJ, Quinton RL, & Wynne-Edwards KE (2000). Hormonal correlates of paternal responsiveness in new and expectant fathers. Evolution and human behavior : official journal of the Human Behavior and Evolution Society, 21 (2), 79-95 PMID: 10785345
Burnham, T. (2003). Men in committed, romantic relationships have lower testosterone Hormones and Behavior, 44 (2), 119-122 DOI: 10.1016/S0018-506X(03)00125-9
Zak, P., Kurzban, R., Ahmadi, S., Swerdloff, R., Park, J., Efremidze, L., Redwine, K., Morgan, K., & Matzner, W. (2009). Testosterone Administration Decreases Generosity in the Ultimatum Game PLoS ONE, 4 (12) DOI: 10.1371/journal.pone.0008330
HERMANS, E., PUTMAN, P., & VANHONK, J. (2006). Testosterone administration reduces empathetic behavior: A facial mimicry study Psychoneuroendocrinology, 31 (7), 859-866 DOI: 10.1016/j.psyneuen.2006.04.002
Every once in a while, you write something you really, really like. You write something you like so much, you wish you could write it again, over and over. Well, I happen to have a few of these posts that I have written previous to my move here, and I want to share them with you. They’ll be labelled as “Observations,” indicating they were originally posted on my old blog, Observations of a Nerd. Enjoy!
Mouse, my adorable cousin, showing off a bubble
“Christie! Christie!” My four-year old cousin tugs eagerly on my jacket. “I wanna see the fishes.”
“Ok, Tuna, we can go see the fish.”
My little cousin loves the word ‘tuna’. She says it all the time. Tuna, tuna, tuna. Everything is a tuna-face or a tuna-head. She doesn’t even like tuna (she doesn’t eat it), but she loves the sound of the word rolling off her tongue. Finally, her nanny threatened that if she kept saying ‘tuna,’ we’d have to start calling her it. My ever so adorable cousin’s response was, of course, “TUNA!” So now that’s her nickname. She’s Tuna.
I’m waiting in line with her and her sister at the Rainforest Cafe in the Burlington Mall. They love the Rainforest Cafe. There’s a giant mechanical alligator out front that they can’t seem to get enough of. Mouse (as I now call Tuna’s older sister) is convinced that it’s real. Who am I to burst her bubble?
But now, in line, their eyes are instead drawn to the entrance arch of fish tanks. As a marine biologist, I feel obligated to tell them about the fish.
“You see that one? That’s a butterflyfish. And that one — that’s a grouper. Oh! And that little colorful one there — that’s the Hawaii State Fish. It’s name in Hawaiian is Humuhumunukunukuapua’a. Can you say Humuhumunukunukuapua’a?”
My two cousins look at me like I’m insane. I guess they’re a little young to try and learn Hawaiian fish names.
“Christie! Christie!” Tuna grabs my jacket again. “Are there any tuna?”
“Tuna. Tuna. TUNA!” Mouse grins at her sister, and the two burst into giggles.
Their attention quickly drifts to shooting back and forth funny words like Tuna and Pizza, and instead I am left with my little cousin’s innocent question derailing my thoughts.
Tuna. One of my favorite fish. Large, majestic creatures built for speed and strength. Even a rudimentary understanding of how perfectly suited they are as open ocean predators leaves one in awe of evolution’s handiwork. A sleek, streamlined design, with specialized circulation and muscles to provide warmth and power even in cold water — they are truly incredible fish.
There are many kinds of tuna: Albacore, Bigeye, Blackfin, Bluefin, Karasick, Longtail Skipjack and Yellowtail. Even within a ‘kind’ like Bluefin there is Northern Bluefin, Southern Bluefin, and Pacific Bluefin.
They’re all similar in that they’re unbelievably delicious.
I remember the last time I ate tuna. I would love to say it was a long time ago, but it wasn’t. I slipped into the take-out sushi place as quietly as possible, but the little bells attached to the door handle announced my entrance.
“Wat can get fo you?” the nice man behind the counter asked.
“I’ll have the Spicy Ahi Maki, please.” Once my treat was handed over, I made quick work of the bright red fish smothered in my favorite chili mayo. The soft, tender flesh melted in my mouth, tasting of decadence. Within a matter of minutes it was all over.
As soon as I walked out the door, though, it hit me. The guilt. You should know better, I chided myself. The tuna fisheries, by and large, are a disgrace. Many are overfished and on the verge of collapse. Take the Mediterranean Bluefin tuna fishery, the largest fishery for Bluefin in the world, for example. Tuna are caught young in massive numbers and corralled in cages offshore where they’re fattened for the sushi and sashimi market. If the Mediterranean Bluefin tuna fishery is not closed now, some scientists project that the tuna in that part of the world will be functionally extinct in just two years.
Of course, I know that the tuna I ate wasn’t likely to be Bluefin. It wasn’t Albacore, either, as Albacore is the tuna you get in cans, not the kind served in sushi bars (though it can be found under the name “Shiromaguro” if they have it). While the Japanese are much pickier about their labeling, giving each species a different name, in the states, Ahi or Maguro can refer to just about any tuna species, though most often it refers to Bigeye, Yellowfin or sometimes Skipjack. It’s only if you get Toro, the fatty tuna that will cost you an arm and a leg, that you’re likely to be eating Bluefin.
But ordering tuna in a restaurant is a bit like playing ecological Russian Roulette. Rarely do restaurants know or care where their fish comes from, only that they got it at a decent price. Even if they think they know and think they care, they’re often wrong. A recent study which genetically tested ordered tuna in restaurants found you may be served anything from the critically endangered Southern Bluefin to Escolar, a disgusting fish known to cause illness when eaten. Most (79%) of the menus did not say what species was served, and when asked, almost a third said the wrong species while another 9% had no idea.
The problem, of course, is that it matters which species you eat. All Bluefin fisheries are unsustainable, and eating them ensures their doom. Meanwhile, Yellowtail and Bigeye, though better off, are approaching the same fate — though if caught with pole and line (the slower and more expensive way to fish), they could be sustainable. Only Albacore and Skipjack have healthy and well managed stocks right now, though if we lean more on them to make up for losses in the other three major fisheries, it’s likely they, too, will be in trouble. Despite warning after warning, government agencies all over continue to keep quotas for most species well above sustainable levels.
As if that’s not bad enough, members at the recent CITES meeting rejected legislation that would have limited the trade of tuna between countries. It seems that the politicians just don’t care enough, and it’s up to the public to make it clear that driving these species to extinction is not something we’re willing to stand for. To do that, we have to stop supporting the market… to stop going out to little take out sushi places and getting the Spicy Ahi Maki.
I tried to console myself that, living in Hawaii, it’s possible that the tuna I just ate was Skipjack, pole-caught locally… but I know better. Pole-caught fish are more expensive, and it’s not likely the cheap take-out sushi place is splurging for the local variety just for kicks, especially if they aren’t advertising the fact. No, that delicious meat was likely Yellowfin or Bigeye purse-seined or long-lined in some foreign country and shipped, frozen, to Honolulu to be eaten by cheap people like me.
The feeling that washed over me in that instant was not unlike the feeling you get when you drunkenly sleep with your ex a month or so after the breakup. Sure, it seems like a good idea at the time, and for a brief moment you feel pure pleasure. But you wake up the next morning coated with filth and regret. The truth is, you’ve only made things worse. You glare at yourself in the mirror, pissed that you were so stupid. But the worst part is the unshakeable feeling that lingers for days. You feel… well, there’s really no nice word for it. You feel like a slut.
That’s what you are, you know my conscience spits at me. You’re a tuna slut.
“Christie! Christie!” My cousin’s pleas snap me back.
“What is it Tuna?”
“You’re a toushie-face!” They erupt into laughter. The two are completely out of control. With the artful skill only an older cousin can have, I draw their attention back to the fish, explaining the different types and little facts about how they live. They’re mesmerized. Soon enough we’ve been seated, ordered our food, and had a nice lunch surrounded by the chaotic jungle of the Rainforest Cafe.
Later that evening, the girls kiss and hug me goodnight. “Goodnight Mouse, Goodnight Tuna,” I whisper to each. As they head upstairs with their parents to bed, I sip a glass of my uncle’s homemade red wine and can’t help but think about the plight of tuna.
A fish so beloved by so many like myself, yet its very survival is threatened by that adoration. The trouble is that it’s just hard to give up something we love so much. If I — a marine biologist armed to the teeth with the knowledge of exactly how bad the problem is — still cannot restrain myself from indulging, it seems hopeless to expect that the world will. If we continue to fish for bluefin and other tuna like we do now, there is no ambiguity about the result. They will disappear. Probably within my lifetime, maybe even sooner. And before they disappear, they’ll become so hard to find that a slice of sashimi will be as expensive as Beluga caviar is now.
It’s possible that regulating agencies will come to their senses and limit the catch, thus allowing tuna species to rebound before they’re completely gone — but they sure as all hell don’t seem inclined to. Some have had the idea of rolling moratoriums, where certain fishing locations are banned for several years, then others the next few years, to allow wild populations time to recover. Or maybe they could instate tuna credits, allowing fish-hungry nations like Japan to eat their fill while others abstain. There are a lot of ways politicians could help prevent overfishing — none of which, of course, they seem to want to do.
It’s also possible that we’ll find a way to farm tuna, taking the pressure off of falling wild stocks. As it stands now, many species of tuna are caught young and kept in pens until they’re big and fat enough to be slaughtered. But this isn’t really farming in the truest sense because they still have to be wild-caught first. Tuna species, particularly the plummeting Bluefin, have proven to be extremely difficult to aquaculture. They take 12 years to mature, and apparently, don’t find large aquariums or offshore corrals very romantic, so they don’t produce the next generation in captivity. Some have had luck using drugs to trick them into producing eggs, but the method was expensive and labor intensive, and it has yet to be seen if the young produced are healthy. While this does produce hope, it’s limited, and it’s hard to see commercial aquaculture technology rising fast enough to the occasion to save these species.
I can’t help but wonder if, in fifteen or twenty years, I’ll even be able to order maguro if I take my cousin out to a nice sushi restaurant so she can try the fish she’s nicknamed after.
Even if I can, I hope that when I suggest it, she glares, then sighs like she’s sick of explaining this kind of thing to ignorant people like me. Her generation will have learned from our mistakes. They will do better. She will remind me that tuna are rare and beautiful fish; that they’re aren’t that many left, and if we keep ordering tuna and continuing the demand for their meat, they will disappear altogether.
And, she’ll likely say, I’m a grown woman now — so stop calling me Tuna.
For more information about sustainable seafood choices, take a look at the Monterrey Bay Aquarium’s Seafood Watch List for your area. In particular, you can help protect the wild tuna by ordering other, more sustainable sushi. For examples, check out SustainableSushi.Net.
Learn more about the plight of the tuna and what you can do to help at SaveTheBluefinTuna.Com.
The worst part, though, is that these negative effects start at a very young age. Simply 
In case you haven’t heard, Border’s closed. 
Scientists. We’re an enigmatic group of people. On the one hand, we are trailblazers. We’re the innovators and inventors whose job it is, quite literally, to expand the world’s technology through knowledge. We’re quick to see the merit in new methods like fluorescent proteins and hit the ground running with them.
