NASA discovery slips through the cracks

Felisa Wolfe-Simon explains her discovery at a news conference at NASA headquarters. Photo: AFP

The recent discovery of bacteria that can live on arsenic, and even incorporate the toxic chemical into the structure of its DNA, last week sent the global media into a frenzy (see here for an example). According to NASA, the research was a breakthrough for astrobiology, the search for extra-terrestrial life, because it suggests that there are alternative chemical pathways through which life can exist, broadening the possibilities for detecting life elsewhere in the universe. The research was published in the very prestigious journal Science.

Since the news broke a little more a week ago, many scientists have voiced their concerns about the validity of the research (see here and here for extensive critiques of the research by expert biochemists). The story quickly turned from triumphant discovery to an embarrassing case of research that slipped through the cracks of the peer review process.

Peer review is the system of quality control in science that ensures research is robust. Despite what some people may think, scientists cannot publish whatever they want. Potential articles are read and critiqued by other experts in the field, who advise the editor of a journal about whether the article is scientifically sound and whether it is of sufficient quality for publication.

While peer review is an effective form of quality control, it is system that relies heavily on people’s honesty and good will. Reviewing articles is an unpaid, time-consuming and rather thankless job that comes with the territory of being an academic. The integrity of published research depends on reviewers taking the time to properly check and question scientific claims. I am no expert in biochemistry, so I will not speculate about why or how the arsenic research was allowed to be published, but it is a pertinent example of how the peer review system springs the occasional leak.

Bacteria from Mono Lake in California can survive and grow in high concentrations of arsenic, but do they really incorporate arsenic into their DNA backbone? Photo: Felisa Wolfe-Simon

The reverse situation can also occur. Last year, a group of 14 stem cell researchers wrote an open letter about reviewers they thought were blocking quality research in an attempt to promote their own instead. While the vast majority of scientists would never deliberately reject someone else’s research for their own benefit, the cutthroat nature of academia may be driving some researchers to engage in unethical reviewing practices.

Instances such as these have prompted some to suggest that the system of peer review be changed. I recently attended a seminar by Cameron Neylon, an academic and a prolific blogger who dedicates much of his time to questioning the current ways that we publish our results in science. Among other things, Neylon champions the idea of open publishing and post-publication review. His view is that the current system of peer review is archaic and is a relic of an era in which journals were printed in hardcopy, leaving limited space for articles in each edition. Now, almost all journals publish their articles online in electronic form, which means there is no longer the issue of limited space. He suggests that the current system of pre-publication review is too slow, delaying the release of important research discoveries, and also acts as an unnecessary filter that blocks the publication of many research projects funded by tax-payers’ money.

Neylon proposes that articles be peer reviewed after they are published (post-publication review). In essence, this means any research, regardless of its quality and integrity, can be published online. The research is then publically scrutinised by other scientists in online forums that are linked to the online version of the article.

I certainly agree that post-publication review is an invaluable tool that can only enhance the quality of published research. Comments from biochemists in online forums and blogs about the supposed arsenic-based bacteria are a perfect example of how useful post-publication review can be. However, I support the idea of post-publication review as a supplement rather than as a substitute for pre-publication review.

The current peer review system encourages scientists to write the best possible articles prior to submission, and the process of addressing reviewer comments often significantly improves the quality of the finished product. It is my opinion that articles published online without prior scrutiny are likely to be more sloppily-written than those currently reviewed pre-publication. Furthermore, while it is nice to think that science research is a perfectly cost-effective and efficient endeavour, not all research is worthy of publication. Simply publishing everything regardless of its quality means that scientists must spend a lot more time searching online databases to sort good research from the rubbish.

Nevertheless, healthy debate about the value of current system of peer review continues with gusto. Many scientists discuss this issue in online forums and while support for post-publication review is increasing, the form it would take is hotly contested. I strongly encourage all scientists to think about this issue and engage in the debate, since any changes in the peer review process will have major consequences for the way we conduct and publish science in the future.

The new lab rats

This article won second prize in the New Scientist Prize for Science Writing

Lab rats... or lab lizards?

Bridget Murphy investigates how reproduction in reptiles may help us better understand the evolutionary history of cancer as well as identify new targets for treatment.


It all starts with a single cell, a cell genetically different from the rest in the body. This cell doesn’t have an identity yet and has the potential to develop into any cell type in the body. The single cell divides, repeatedly and rapidly, to form a growing clump of cells. The body’s immune system does not recognise or attempt to destroy the alien cells, which are very effective at “hiding” themselves from the host’s immune system. With the body powerless to halt their rapid growth, the cells continue to grow, unchecked, and begin to tap into the blood supply of the host. The invading cells have now secured the oxygen and nutrients they need to continue to invade and parasitise the body…

This foreboding description sounds like the birth of a cancerous tumour, spreading uncontrollably through the body. But actually, it also perfectly describes the first stages of embryogenesis, when a fertilised egg divides to form a ball of cells that implants into the wall of the uterus at the beginning of its development.

The similarities between a growing cancer and a developing embryo have long been recognised. In fact, the commonalities are so striking that some scientists think that embryos and cancers share an evolutionary connection. To understand this concept, we need to delve hundreds of millions of years back into our evolutionary past, to a time when the ancestors of modern-day mammals laid eggs instead of giving birth to live young.

Embryos and cancerous tumours grow in similar ways. Photo: Nadav Pezaro

Scientists think that our egg-laying ancient ancestors might have been less susceptible to cancer than modern humans because they laid eggs (Medical Hypotheses, vol 66, p 888). This is because as the ability to give birth to live young evolved in our ancestors, a series of gene systems also evolved. Among other things, these gene systems helped to prevent immune rejection of an embryo during pregnancy. They also allowed embryos to produce blood vessels in their placenta, helping to shuttle oxygen and nutrients between the mother and her baby.

Giving birth to live young instead of laying eggs has definite advantages for an animal, but, unfortunately, evolutionary advantages come with side effects. Scientists think that these same gene systems that developed during the evolution of live birth are also the systems that result in cancer cells being so successful at growing and spreading throughout the body. In other words, live-bearing animals (including humans) can’t have their cake and eat it too.

It is sobering to think that cancer, a disease that always seems to be one step ahead of the treatments we develop, may be woven inextricably into our evolutionary history. But researchers hope that this evolutionary connection will allow them to better understand cancer’s arsenal and will help identify new ‘chinks in the armour’ that they can exploit to treat the disease.

But how do you study evolution once it’s already happened? Live birth evolved in the ancestors of rats and mice, the animals usually used in research, about 103 million years ago (Science, vol 294, p 2348). Surprisingly, it’s probably not mammals that will provide the answers about what happens during the evolution of live birth, but lizards and snakes.

More than 20% of snakes and lizards give birth to live young, and live birth has evolved more than one hundred times in the reptile family tree. In fact, scientists have recently discovered an Australian lizard that is right in the middle of this evolutionary process.

The lizard in question is three-toed skink (Saiphos equalis). Living most of its life underground, the three-toed skink is approximately 10 cm long and has tiny legs, each with three toes, helping it slither snake-like through narrow tunnels in the soil. It has a bullet-shaped head, allowing easy burrowing, and its small eyes are ultra-sensitive to light.

The three toed skink (Saiphos equalis) gives birth to live young. Photo: Nadav Pezaro

Scientists think that the three-toed skink is at an “intermediate stage” of the evolutionary process (Journal of Morphology, DOI: 10.1002/jmor.10877). Its egg-laying relatives lay eggs with a thick shell that make take months to hatch, while its live-bearing relatives give birth to fully-developed babies surrounded by a placenta instead of an eggshell. The three-toed skink is somewhere in the middle, laying eggs with very thin translucent eggshells that can hatch in less than 24 hours.

Just as transitional forms in the fossil record can help retrace steps in the evolutionary process, the three-toed skink could tell us more about what happens during the evolution of live birth. New research suggests that this lizard may also harbour secrets about the important evolutionary connection between embryos and cancer.

A rare gene, called VEGF 111, was found expressed in the placenta of the three-toed skink, where it promotes the growth of blood vessels (Journal of Experimental Zoology, vol 314B, p 148). The only other place that medical scientists had seen this gene before was in precancerous human cells grown in the laboratory (Journal of Cell Biology, vol 179, p 1261). It seems that VEGF 111 is a gene that is important for placental growth and maybe also for the evolution of live birth in the three-toed skink, but it is possibly also involved in the transformation of healthy human cells to cancerous ones.

VEGF 111 may be another example of a genetic system that first evolved to allow embryos to grow successfully in utero, but has since been hijacked by cancer cells to improve their own growth. It is information like this that can identify the ‘chinks in the armour’ that cancer researchers are looking for, providing potential targets for future drugs and therapies. The new lab rats in cancer research may, in fact, be lab lizards, if scientists continue to investigate the disease from this novel perspective.

Q & A fuels climate change hysteria

Television is such a powerful medium for stimulating discussion about current topics of debate. A good televised debate among members of a panel has the incredible potential to inform and engage the public about important issues and decisions that we face as a community.

Previously I might have agreed that the ABC’s Q & A program promoted these types of constructive debates, but last night was a disgrace.

Last night’s one hour episode (transcript here) sped through a number of controversial topics, including the canonisation of Mary MacKillop, the prosecution of Australian commandos in Afghanistan, bias in the Australian media and, lastly, the family favourite, climate change policy and carbon taxes.
Q & A seemed to take great pleasure in seating Tim Flannery, a scientist and a prominent climate change activist, next to fellow scientist but passionate climate change denier, Jennifer Marohasy. The two visibly squirmed in their chairs for 45 minutes in anticipation of the big face-off between them, so that the audience was positively baying for blood by the time discussion of climate change finally started.

This is not the appropriate forum for a “balanced” debate (whatever that means anyway) about climate change. In fact, Q & A last night served to actively promote and encourage the hysteria and fervour that clouds any notion of reason surrounding this topic.

Climate science, and all science for that matter, is founded on evidence-based research and hypothesis testing. It is based on real data, numbers and statistics that are meticulously and thoroughly presented in well-respected peer-reviewed publications. A “balanced” view, as the media so often piously claims to strive for, requires thorough review of this peer-reviewed scientific literature. A “balanced” view does not come from 10 minutes of two people from opposite sides talking over the top of each other, reeling off numbers and percentages to support their argument. Quoting facts and figures in this scenario becomes hear say rather than hard evidence. How can people be expected to develop informed opinions if neither side is given the opportunity to provide any substance and evidence for their argument? How can someone possibly effectively demonstrate the credibility of their evidence in such a highly emotionally-charged forum?


A debate such as this does not empower people to develop informed opinions and is far more destructive than constructive. At a time when we need society to start forming some sort of consensus for making policy decisions on this issue, the Q and A debate will serve only to further polarise public opinion rather than encouraging any common ground. The media needs to start accepting responsibility for the chaos that they continue to create.

Lamentably, debates about climate science are no longer based on careful review of available evidence, or even any sense of reason or logic, but are “won” by those who can yell the loudest. I don’t endorse the behaviour of the representatives of either side of the debate last night, even though I do agree with the opinions of one and not the other. Both Marohasy and Flannery showed gross disrespect for each other and for the subject they were attempting to discuss, and this was largely the result of their desperation to cover too much ground in such a short time slot. Both scientists became visibly flustered, interrupted each other and unnecessarily raised their voices to express completely futile arguments on both sides.

Whatever your opinion on climate change, decisions made about climate policy have serious ramifications for everyone and do not deserve to be trivialised in emotionally-charged debates such as this. What Q & A staged last night was no better than a melodramatic conflict better suited to a reality TV show. The debacle produced no clear result, rather just two frustrated, flustered and, dare I say, embarrassed scientists. The real victim of last night’s fiasco was neither Marohasy nor Flannery, only our prospects of rational and constructive debate about how to tackle climate change.

Happy birthday, love from “Me, no me first” et al.

Buying a birthday present for a friend isn’t a difficult task in theory, but it does become more complicated as more and more people contribute. What starts off as a generous gesture can become an awkward and, in extreme cases, nasty situation as the number of names on the card grows. Especially when you have to get one of those huge novelty-sized cards!

All gift givers are not created equal, and there are always a few people who put in more effort, time and money on the present than others. There are also many different steps involved in group gift-giving. First of all, someone has to come up with the original idea to give the present, and then it needs to be decided what the present should be. The gift needs to be found, paid for and wrapped up. Someone needs to organise and write on the card and finally, someone needs to hand over the gift to the birthday person. Then there is almost certainly one person who has forgotten their friend’s birthday who, having been involved in no part of the gift-giving process, asks to put their name on the card at the last minute.

It is important to be acknowledged on the card if you have contributed in a significant way in the gift-giving process. But how worthy does this contribution need to be to be recognised on the card? Usually the person who organises the gift writes their name first on the list of gift-givers on the card, and the recipient can tell who to thank most. But what if someone else contributed more money or prepared an elaborate hand-made card especially for the occasion? What position in the list of names do they deserve to occupy?

Most of you would agree that this is a rather trivial and petty argument and you might ask what a post about group birthday presents is doing in a science blog like this. But the scenario of giving a group birthday present is perhaps the most appropriate analogy to describe the issue of authorship on science research papers. And authorship is certainly not a trivial issue.

As I discussed in my previous post, it is no easy task to climb (or sometimes simply hold onto) the slippery sides of the pyramid scheme of science academia. Peer-reviewed research papers are the internationally-recognised currency of science research. A scientist’s chances of landing a job, successfully applying for grant funding or achieving the respect of their peers all depends largely on the number of research papers they have authored.


Quantifying a researcher’s excellence is not simply a case of counting the number of articles they have authored, since not all articles are created equal. A single-authored papers is often considered more valuable fodder for a curriculum vitae that one with multiple authors. The order of names in the author list on multi-author articles is also paramount – being first author suggests ownership and leadership of the research project, while the last author is usually the head of the laboratory or research group and may have supplied the funds for the project. Other positions in the author list are less esteemed, reserved for people who played more minor parts in the project, but they nevertheless serve as a feather in the cap of any scientist’s CV.

Potential employers and funding bodies also consider the reputation of the journal in which the article is published, and how many times other researchers around the world have cited the article in subsequent publications. Both the quality of the journal and the number of citations are good indicators of the timeliness and excellence of the research. Such is the need to measure the research output of scientists that there are several indices that attempt to reduce a scientist’s worth to a single number for ease of comparison.

The pressure on scientists to be authors on more and more articles creates tension and politics and can lead to soured relationships between colleagues. It is not unusual for arguments to arise about author list order or about whether someone’s contribution is sufficient to merit authorship or simply an acknowledgement at the end of the article. Unfortunately, inexperienced researchers and students can be exploited and may not receive the recognition they deserve if other co-authors or supervisors abuse their positions of trust.

Navigating the sticky issue of authorship requires sensible and honest discussion before the project starts, and a certain amount of tact and diplomacy never goes astray. This should avoid the problem of last-minute, unexpected or unreasonable requests for authorship, because the consequences of authorship in science are definitely more significant than whether or not you get due credit for the bath soaps and scented candles you gave your mate for their birthday.

Comic from www.phdcomics.com

Science academia: Cutting edge or cut-throat?

A career in science academia is an attractive one. An academic career offers perks that just aren’t available in other lines of work. Research scientists enjoy a job with flexible hours, a high degree of autonomy, the chance to travel, and the luxury of choosing a research topic that is intellectually stimulating and challenging. Academia seduces many with its alluring mix of research and teaching, as well as the opportunity to make new discoveries and win respect from the international scientific community.

No doubt this is part of the reason why there are more people than ever studying for PhDs. A PhD is a huge commitment – 3 to 4 years in Australia, and 5 to 6 years in the U.S – and presumably a large proportion of students begin studying for a PhD with an academic career in mind. But are students sufficiently informed about the realities of academia before they begin such a huge undertaking? What is involved in climbing the academic ladder, and how many people fall off the ladder along the way?

Actually, the academic ladder is more like a pyramid; There are many more PhD graduates than there are post-doctoral positions, and many more post-docs than permanent tenured positions as lecturers. Job security for aspiring academics is precarious until they get a permanent position, and many people fall (or leap for dear life!) off the pyramid in their quest for greater job certainty. Competition for academic jobs is fierce in a world where your curriculum vitae boasts about the number of publications you have, what journal they are in, and the amount of grant money you have won.


But is such cutthroat competition really conducive to good research? Or are we compromising the quality of our science by placing researchers under such high levels of job stress? Such a highly competitive environment is certainly not a pre-requisite for good research, as the likes of Darwin and Einstein slowly (in Darwin’s case, this took decades) but carefully developed their revolutionary theories under the patronage of wealthy members of society.

Inevitably for some, the long hours and job stress of a modern academic career begin to take their toll on a researcher’s personal life. Frequently switching jobs (and often countries) often makes it difficult to sustain personal relationships. Those ‘significant others’ that do come along for the ride usually make large sacrifices for their partner’s academic career. Aspiring academics without sufficient financial support in tough times, either from family or partners, can also fall by the wayside. Carola Vinuesa, awarded the Science Minister’s prize for Life Scientist of the Year in 2008, recently wrote in Cosmos Magazine (August 2010) that prior to winning the prize she was struggling to manage her lab while also raising a toddler and baby at home. She said that the prize meant she could afford some domestic help, which saved her career. She wrote to thank one of her mentors in Britain, who replied bluntly that he “always suspected that every woman scientist needs a wife”.


I wonder how many students would still begin studying for a PhD if they knew that this was the case? Often by the time a PhD student works this out for themselves, many feel they come too far to turn back. So why then aren’t students warned about this before they start? [citation needed] speculates that PhD students are often collateral damage in the highly-competitive world of modern-day science research, just a means to an end for the supervising academic to increase the research output and increase their success when applying for their own grants. This is certainly not the case for my own PhD supervisors, but frankly it seems to be the case for one or two academics that I know of.

Or is it simply the case that there are too many people doing PhDs out there, competing for too few jobs? I think it is important for students to understand that an academic career is not the only option after a PhD, and that choosing to opt out of academia is not something to be ashamed of. In order to graduate, PhD students must be highly self-motivated, show initiative, have superb organisational skills and, as my fellow PhD students will agree, be able to take constructive (and often not-so-constructive) criticism on board. These characteristics are highly sought-after in other careers that afford employees better work-life balance than academia.

So if you feel like academia is your true calling, go for it, but be aware of what hurdles you face along the way. If you do choose to do a PhD and then realise that academia isn’t for you, walk away with your head held high and find a career that satisfies you. Remember that your PhD was by no means a waste of time, but is an achievement that you should be proud of.



All comics are from www.phdcomics.com

Justifying experimentation

Bridget Murphy puts the science back into the debate about animal research.

“You ask about my opinion on vivisection. I quite agree that it is justifiable for real investigations on physiology; but not for mere damnable and detestable curiosity. It is a subject which makes me sick with horror, so I will not say another word about it, else I shall not sleep tonight.” – Charles Darwin, 1871.

Sobering words from a man, whose intimate knowledge of anatomy from animal dissections allowed him to compile enough evidence for his revolutionary theory of evolution.

In response to “Feathers, fur and faculties” in the Week 6 edition of Honi Soit, scientists are not the crazed characters depicted in films, “playing god” with their research on animals. I know of no researcher who feels comfortable or “normal” about killing or experimenting on animals. The issue is a highly sensitive and moral one, but the benefit of both historical and modern animal research to society is undeniable. For this reason, scientists strive to develop and use alternatives to animals in their research as much as possible.

But scientists are also fully aware that our society would be very different without animal research. Our basic knowledge of biology, as well as most of modern medicine, is thanks to pioneering discoveries made in animal research. For example, it was animal research that allowed Louis Pasteur to discover that diseases were not caused by imbalances of the organs but external micro-organisms. Only by isolating and culturing these microbes from the gut of chickens with cholera, and then reintroducing these microbes back into healthy chickens, did Pasteur prove that the culprits were not evil spirits, not the flying spaghetti monster, but pesky microbes.

Armed with this new knowledge, British surgeon Joseph Lister began insisting that other surgeons wash their hands in between patients. He also started sterilising his instruments, sutures and wound dressings with carbolic acid.

The result was a drastic reduction in the number of deaths from septicaemia in his hospital ward, and the concept of antiseptic technique was born. Animal research has also indisputably established causes and vaccines for many diseases, aided the development of antibacterial and antibiotic drugs and helped researchers develop the techniques used in modern-day organ transplants.

But just because animal research played an important part in these developments, does it mean that they were an essential part? Would these discoveries have been made eventually by other means? The alternative methods that activists say could have been used, such as cell culture, would never have been developed without the basic descriptive knowledge that scientists gained from animal studies.

It is fantastic that the availability and validity of alternative methods continues to improve and that they are increasingly being substituted for animals. But there are still no viable alternatives to animals in many avenues of research. For this reason, animal research for which there is sufficient justification but no viable alternatives must continue.

The argument that animal research should be stopped because of animal rights is the safe but soft stance to take on this highly complex issue. Physiologist and physician, Dr. Walter B. Cannon, described the conundrum beautifully in 1896 by quoting Theodore Roosevelt: “Common sense without conscience may lead to crime, but conscience without common sense may lead to folly, which is the handmaiden of crime.” All of us need to acknowledge that we are indebted to animals used in research, but we also need to support rather than slander scientists in their pursuits to improve animal welfare.

This article was published in the University of Sydney newspaper Honi Soit 14/9/10

Semantics of scientific theory

Scientific theory too often becomes a matter of debate and opinion in the public arena when there is no debate to be had. The two most obvious examples of this are the evolution-creation debate and arguments about climate science. Much of this debate arises not because of deficiencies in the science, but because of confusion in the terminologies used, particularly differences in the type of language used by scientists and the general public to describe the scientific method.

Colloquially, and to most people, a theory refers to a prediction or an idea. In science, a theory is not just an idea that people float out into the scientific literature, but is actually the best available explanation, well-supported by the evidence, that correctly accounts for all elements of a given phenomenon. Evidence that contradicts a current scientific theory invalidates the theory in its current form, and it must be rejected or revised to incorporate the new evidence.

So why are scientific theories – the best available explanations based on the evidence – demoted to mere opinions in public forums? Much of the basis of the argument against the theory of evolution, for example, is that “it is just a theory, not a fact”. This argument highlights how language and expression can distort the meaning of science and the debate quickly becomes one about semantics. As Massimo Pigliucci elegantly explains, “evolution is both a theory and fact” (emphasis from the original); it is fact because the fossil record demonstrates that present-day life forms are very different from those that lived millions of years ago (1). Detectable changes in life forms also occur over shorter time scales, in organisms with short generation times such as bacteria, for example, allowing us to observe evolution in action. The mechanisms that biologists have proposed to explain these changes over time form the theory of evolution (1). The amount of evidence contradicting creationism means that it does not qualify as a theory in the scientific sense of the word. But creationists have, and will continue to, exploit the confusion about this term to lend weight to “their side of the story”.

This brings me to my next point. The noble aim of (hopefully all) journalists is to report stories objectively and without bias. Unfortunately, because scientific theory is too often misrepresented as only one side of a debate, news reporters present both sides of the story as a matter of fairness. But do both sides deserve the equal treatment they usually receive?

Before scientific discoveries even reach the news desk, they are scrutinized by other scientists. Only if these scientists agree that the methods of the investigation are sufficiently rigorous can the discovery be published in a scientific journal and then covered in the media. If there was any room for debate about the issue, then the study would have been deemed inconclusive and the discovery would not be published. So why give “both sides of the story” – one supported by the science and the other just an opinion – equal and undue attention in news pieces? When scientific conclusions are presented as just one side of the debate, then rigorous science becomes worth no more than opinion, and all because the journalist wanted to seem fair. The general public must then choose which “opinion” they agree with, without the benefit of knowing the true weight of evidence that supports or contradicts each option. This is why there may be no controversy about issues such as climate change and the theory of evolution in the scientific community, but public opinion is often split close to 50-50.

Unfortunately this means that people can no longer publicly acknowledge a scientific conclusion. Instead this becomes their opinion, or more cringeworthy, their belief. Emotive language used to convey what was originally a completely objective and tested conclusion rapidly demotes the “opinion” to “propaganda”, and much of this transformation comes down to the use (or misuse) of the word “believe”. A quick google search reveals that countless people “believe in evolution”, and our current prime minister Julia Gillard has repeatedly emphasized her belief in climate change. The word “believe” carries with it distinct religious connotations of having faith in an idea (namely a god or a creation story) for which there isn’t necessarily any evidence. Religions require faith in order to accept their teachings and creation stories, but people’s belief in a scientific theory misrepresents science as an alternative faith, quite the opposite of science and its philosophy.

The use of the word “believe” in discussions about the theory of evolution and the validity of climate science adds an uncomfortable religious fervour to these debates. I suggest that it is this religious-like fervour from climate change advocates that has resulted in such skepticism of climate science. While reviewing a book from climate change sceptic Bjørn Lomborg, The Skeptical Environmentalist (2), Andrew Greely commented in the Chicago Sun-Times that environmentalists have “helped create a new religion whose devotees are compelled to accept false prophecy as unquestionable truth” (3). While reviewing the same book, Jonathan Adler in the National Review refers to the green orthodoxy of environmentalists. Religious analogies paint scientists and, in this case, environmentalists, as people pushing hidden agendas. This produces a level of distrust in ill-informed members of the public that is sometimes sufficient to sway their opinion away from the “side” that is rational, logical and supported by rigorous science. All this from a lack of understanding of the language used to describe science and the scientific method.

Science and its philosophies are some of the most important tools we have for gaining new knowledge as a society. But our failure to communicate this science to non-scientists effectively allows often influential individuals to remain irrational and ignorant about important issues and persuade others accordingly. Confusing terms need to be explained to the general public in ways they can understand, or be substituted with non-ambiguous ones. The media must also be ethical in their news reports and place the correct emphasis on the side of the story supported by the facts. And please, for God’s sake, don’t believe in science!

(1) Massimo Pigliucci, Nonsense on stilts: How to tell science from bunk (University of Chicago Press, 2010), 163.
(2) Bjørn Lomborg, The skeptical environmentalist (Cambridge University Press, 2001).
(3) Andrew Greeley, “Doomsday phophecies lack merit,” Chicago Sun-times, 9 December 2001.
(4) Jonathan Adler, “Dissendent from Denmark,” National Review, 8 April 2002.

The proof of climate change

Where is the proof that climate change is real and that humans are at fault? Climate sceptics love to pounce on the fact that scientists cannot prove that humans are the cause of climate change. Tony Abbott has said previously that climate science is “absolute crap”. More recently he has clarified that he meant to say the science of climate change is not yet “settled”. These comments presumably refer to climate scientists’ inability to prove that the climate is warming and that humans are contributing to it.

The concept of “proof” in science relates to the way in which scientists form and test hypotheses. But, as discussed by Massimo Pigliucci in his book Nonsense on Stilts, the way scientists go about testing these hypotheses depends on the complexity of the system they are trying to explain.

For example, a chemist in the laboratory may be trying to determine whether some compound “A” causes a particular reaction “B” to occur. To test this hypothesis, the chemist would probably set up an experiment to test whether reaction B occurred in the presence of A, and compare this with what happened in the absence of A. The chemist can follow this particular line of inquiry because they have the ability to manipulate and control most or all of the different factors that could affect the outcome of the lab experiment. An experiment is highly repeatable in controlled conditions, meaning that if the experiment is repeated over and over, the same results can be obtained consistently. Thus, predicting the behaviour of a system becomes very accurate when most of the variables are accounted for.

But imagine now that the chemist now has to perform their experiment out of the lab. The temperature and light intensity now fluctuates, and a little dust or dirt gets into the reaction. A little of compound A blows away in the wind before the chemist can add it to the reaction. Reaction B does not occur. The frustrated chemist repeats the process and this time reaction B does occur. Another repeat of the experiment produces a negative result. Once a system moves outside the lab and into the real world where some variables cannot be controlled, the system becomes less predictable.

Now consider an atmospheric scientist, who, like the chemist, wants to know whether compound A causes reaction B to occur in the atmosphere. In this situation, the atmospheric scientist cannot perform an experiment to change the concentration of compound A in the air - that would be impractical and irresponsible. Instead, the atmospheric scientist has observed that the concentration of compound A has increased in the atmosphere over the last few decades. Furthermore, the rate of reaction B has also increased during the same time period. Is the atmospheric scientist able to confirm or refute their hypothesis that compound A causes reaction B to occur in the atmosphere? Given that an experiment in the atmosphere is not feasible, is the current evidence sufficient to support the hypothesis? Or is the question just unanswerable? Is the science just “crap”?

Not all streams of science are able to test hypotheses by conducting a controlled experiment. While the outcome of a controlled experiment is highly repeatable, the results of the experiment have limited relevance in the real world, where conditions are impossible to standardise. On the other hand, it is difficult to conclusively demonstrate cause-and-effect relationships in natural systems because there are so often multiple factors that determine the outcome. Streams of science such as ecology and climate science often rely on making observations to identify trends and links between potential causes and effects. But scientists in these fields must report these results using sufficiently cautious language, using phrases such as “the evidence suggests…” and “our results may mean…”

Pigliucci argues that this does not make the science “crap” but instead reflects the limitations that scientists face in answering questions about complex systems. Unless we have a spare planet earth that we could observe, subject to exactly the same conditions as our own, except devoid of human life, proving in a scientific sense that climate change is human-induced is an impossible task and a foolish endeavour.

Scientists studying these complex systems are stuck between a rock and a hard place when it comes to communicating their work. The philosophy of science is such that definite conclusions are made only when hypotheses are tested in controlled experiments. The strict peer-review process, in which published science research is scrutinised by other experts in the field (I’ve discussed this in a previous post), effectively discourages scientists from making outlandish, unfounded claims. In contrast, those in business and politics want to see strong definitive results from science research, particularly when deciding whether to make a monetary investment in a discovery or when making government policies based on the results of a study.

But in some situations, as is the case with climate science and climate change, another aspect needs to be taken into account. With the climate data we have and the trends we have identified, we need to weigh up whether the price of inaction outweighs our need for a controlled experiment to prove our hypothesis. With this in mind, and considering that a controlled experiment to test the hypotheses is not feasible, I think we need accept that we are as close to proof as we are going to get, and we to act now.

Who are the real population experts?

A debate on the ABC program Q and A on Thursday followed the screening of Dick Smith’s Population Puzzle. The debate panel plus guests from the floor comprised a curious selection of “population experts”. These included four politicians, a professor of cultural studies, a chairman of an infrastructure company, a representative of the Minerals Council of NSW, a newspaper columnist and the mayor of a small town in South Australia.

Oh, and some biologist called Tim Flannery.

What a strange choice of panellists for a debate about population growth! Politicians, with one hand in developers’ back pockets while checking their poll results to make sure they don’t ruffle too many feathers with their policy decisions, are not the truly impartial judges we need when it comes to deciding whether we need to stem our population growth.

Neither are people with vested business interests in seeing our population grow. And neither are social commentators, whose simplistic solution to the problem seems to be to allow people to migrate from very overpopulated areas of the world to less-densely populated ones. Even if our planet's population was evenly distributed among countries, we would still be grossly overpopulated. According to the Worldwide Fund for Nature (WWF), our global ecological footprint exceeded the biological capacity of our planet in the mid 1980s. Population growth is an international issue requiring international solutions.

Unfortunately what this debate lacked completely was any real science about the factors that control the growth of populations. It seems to me that if people want to hear from real experts on population growth and sustainability, to get the hard facts and real data on the dynamics of populations, that we should be asking people who study this for their job – biologists.

So why are biologists the real authorities on population growth?

Well, as much as most people don’t like to admit, we are just another species on the earth. We are just another organism reproducing selfishly until something stops us. Population ecology describes the how populations swell and crash and how they interact with their environment. Theory says that populations will multiply exponentially until one of two things stops the increase: when resources become limited (food, water, space), or when a disease epidemic culls a significant percentage of the population.

Finite resources limiting population growth is an obvious concept that the majority of people (except property developers and most economists) can understand. No more food, no more water, no more space means no more growth.

But the threat of disease epidemics may sound more like science-fiction than science fact in a developed country like Australia. After all we have a decent healthcare system, we are educated in basic hygiene practices and medical research provides us with vaccinations for most of the communicable diseases that are responsible for epidemics in poorer parts of the world. But diseases, particularly those caused by viruses, can still ravage developed countries if they spread faster than we can quarantine infected people, or if they mutate more quickly than we can develop vaccines for them.

The most virulent viruses come from other animals, such as bird flu and swine flu. These viruses can persist in the host animal species asymptomatically, but they inflict incredible destruction when they move to another species, such as humans, that is immunologically naïve to the virus. A pertinent example of a virus that crossed the species barrier is HIV, which spread from chimps to humans in the early 1980s.

As the recent book Virolution by Frank Ryan explains, the ability of viruses to cross the species barrier is not unnatural and is in fact crucial to their evolutionary success. Viruses co-evolve over multiple generations with a particular species until the virus causes only very mild or no symptoms for the host. In some cases, the virus actually inserts its own DNA into the genetic code of the host species. In a strange twist, this results in a situation that is mutually beneficial for both the host and the virus. The virus has a place to live and has effectively become immortal, reproducing every time DNA replication occurs in the host species. In return, the virus acts as the host's secret attack arsenal. The virus lies latent until the habitat of the host species is under threat from a competitor, at which point the virus can reawaken and infect the immunologically-naïve invader. Not a bad evolutionary partnership really, and one that is, and may always be, one step ahead of our efforts to stop it.

Humans, with our rapidly growing population, are the immunologically-naïve invader in this story, encroaching on the habitat of other species as we expand our own territory. And as our population density increases, we will also live in closer and closer contact with the animals that we have domesticated for our food, increasing the potential for more viruses to jump the species divide. Additionally, a very dense population promotes the quick spread of these viral outbreaks and provides more human hosts in which the virus can mutate. All of this combines to impede our ability to quarantine infected individuals during an outbreak and develop vaccines before the virus mutates.

So the debate about population growth is not just a social, economic or environmental issue. We have to realise that we are not outside the laws of biology that keep populations of all species in check. Unlike other species, however, we have the advantage of being able to understand and acknowledge that these biological processes act on populations, including our own. We also have the ability to choose whether we limit our own population growth or allow these biological processes to do the job instead. Although it would be far from easy, I am sure that we could come up with an effective global plan to manage our own population. But at the moment, any effective action is hampered by an economic system that relies on population growth for economic prosperity, by religions that oppose all forms of contraception, and by a lack of basic education in many parts of the world. In light of what we know, if we still choose to take no action and face population control enforced by depleted resources and disease epidemics, instead of at our own hands, we will truly prove that we are no different and no better than all other selfishly-reproducing species on this planet.

Exciting science made snoozy

In my last post I discussed the different ways that journalists and scientists deal with information. Frantically searching for a headline story by the day’s deadline, journalists look for the sexy side of a scientist’s research. In the process, journos may distort the meaning of the research or leave out so much detail that the story loses credibility.

Last week I attended a scientific conference (I won’t name which one), during which I realised that scientists could really learn a thing or two from journalists.

Most scientific conferences have the same format. They start with the obligatory tea and coffee in the morning before the motley crew of researchers file into the auditorium for the first talk of the day. Sessions often start with a keynote speaker, selected to talk at length (usually an hour) about their chosen field of research and take questions at the end of the presentation. The session then continues with a series of shorter talks (usually 15 – 20 minutes) by other researchers and postgraduate students. There are generally two to three sessions during each day, stopping for morning tea, lunch and afternoon tea.

I always arrive at the first day of a conference pretty excited, both nervously anticsipating presenting my own work as well as keen to hear what others having been doing. By the end of the first day I wonder what it would feel like to stab myself in the eye with the pen that comes in the conference pack. Or I start perfecting ways of sleeping inconspicuously at the back of the lecture theatre. Or starting writing this rant for my blog...

While journalists may leave out some of the detail in a story, they do so in the interest of interest, so to speak. A newspaper or TV news bulletin is a compilation of many stories about very different topics and these stories compete for the attention of the audience. Unnecessary detail may make the reader turn to the social pages or the viewer change the channel, and the story doesn’t reach its target.

Scientists, on the other hand, are so intimately involved in every step of their work and seem to be emotionally attached to every tedious detail. Reporting detail is crucial in peer-reviewed publications, but excruciatingly painful detail is unnecessary and completely undesirable, in my opinion, when presenting at conferences or to any general audience.

Particularly boring, and unfortunately very typical talks at science conferences are delivered with an audible lack of enthusiasm, which is an automatic turn off to any audience. Your voice is your major asset when giving a presentation, and you should at least try to sound excited about what you are talking about.

I have heard a certain science communicator describe Microsoft Powerpoint as the worst thing that has happened to science conferences. The initial concept of using Powerpoint was that it should complement a science presentation, but more often than not it has become a crutch to the point that the presenter is lost without their slides. This becomes embarrassingly obvious if the powerpoint presentation malfunctions, and the researcher is left literally speechless.

An audience is all too often forced to decipher huge tables of data in tiny font flashed up for a few seconds while trying to follow a shaky laser pointer dot racing in circles across the screen. Speakers use too much jargon in places where simple language could suffice, and I think presenters can appear arrogant when they deliberately and unashamedly go over their allotted time.

I can totally understand that some speakers, especially students, are relatively inexperienced at giving talks and are often terribly nervous. But I am always dumbfounded when professors, leaders in their field for decades, ramble on in illogical presentations full of jargon and indigestible information. At this most recent conference I attended, it was the keynote speaker, a distinguished professor who received a medal acknowledging his amazing contribution to the field, who gave the most painfully boring talk. By halfway through the hour we were passing notes to each other like school kids in class, until finally we raced out of the lecture theatre to get to the infinitely more exciting scones and biscuits at morning tea.

The best talk of the conference told an enthralling story about the forensic science used in the O.J. Simpson murder trial. While I realise that this topic is inherently interesting, the presenter had obviously prepared his talk very well, telling a logical and exciting story and using lots of anecdotes and well-delivered humour. The style and confidence of his presentation told me that he took great pride in the message of his research and that he had taken the time to make sure that the message reached as diverse an audience as possible. I really respected him for that.

Poor preparation not only shows a distinct lack of respect and consideration for the audience but sells the scientist and their work short. Conferences are an invaluable opportunity for networking and to introduce your science to others who would otherwise be unlikely to read your publications. I think it is a real shame and a wasted chance when groundbreaking research is presented poorly. Poor communication at conferences not only leaves a bad first impression, but it hinders the potential for future collaborations because the real message of the research never reaches the intended audience.

There has always been the unfortunate stereotype of scientists being social misfit lab rats. I won’t deny that this stereotype is well founded, since there are definitely a few of these personalities lurking in the hallways in my department. But for those of us who would like to avoid the stigma of the science nerd enigma, we need to ensure that we can effectively communicate our work to a diverse audience in an engaging and entertaining way. And what better place to start improving our presentation skills than at conferences - pretty please?

In scientists we trust

In the Australian Reader’s digest annual trust survey, ambulance officers have once again topped the list of the most trusted professions.

Other professions we consider trustworthy include firefighters, nurses, pilots and doctors. Not surprisingly, politicians, car salesmen and telemarketers were the least trusted of 40 professions in the list.

But how much do people trust my profession – the scientist?

Scientists are used to intense scrutiny about the validity of their work. Attention to detail, testing and retesting, and criticizing research of our peers is what we do, so I think the job description alone means scientists are, by definition, honest and accountable. Scientists came in a respectable 10th on the list, less trustworthy than farmers (9th) but more honest (and hopefully less scary) than dentists (11th).

But why then are people so skeptical of scientists and their findings in many of the topical science issues currently under debate?

Recently climate scientists have been publicly accused of having vested financial interests in the outcomes of their research or stretching the truth in search of the media spotlight. Stephan Lewandowsky, an Australian Professorial Fellow at the University of Western Australia, has brought some sense to this argument by clarifying that Australian research grants cannot be used to top up a scientist’s salary.

A stringent peer review process must occur before a scientist’s work can be published. This is a process that quickly, and I think effectively, identifies and weeds out unsubstantiated conclusions and speculation in science. Under such scrutiny from their peers, the foundation of a scientist’s reputation is built on their ability to faithfully report results and interpret them accurately. Scientists who somehow alter or extrapolate data to support any “vested interest” simply cannot survive in a system in which a successful career depends on respect from fellow scientists.

So is this skepticism of science really because people doubt the credibility of scientists? If scientists really are the 10th most trusted profession, the answer to this question is no. But if we trust our scientists, why do we so often question the science they produce? Perhaps it has less to do with the scientists and more to do with the profession that scored a lowly 35th on the list of trustworthy professions, just below lawyers and tow-truck drivers – journalists.

While scientists are experts in their own field, they often find it difficult to communicate the message of their research to a general audience and become bogged down in technical jargon. It is the journalist’s job to translate, breaking down the complex language into something that is understandable to non-scientists.

But journalists and scientists have very different motivations when reporting science. Scientists take pride in reporting information accurately and in detail, while journalists will often look for a “sexy” angle of the research that they can exploit to attract the attention of their target audience. Journalists may decide that the true message of a scientist’s research just isn’t interesting enough and turn the story into something far from the truth.

A good example of this is a story that seems to have been first reported in October 2009 in Science News. This initial report told of how John Warner, an organic chemist at the University of Massachusetts tested some shopping receipts to see if they contained bisphenol A (BPA), an estrogen-mimicking chemical that can feminizing effects in foetuses and predispose them to developing cancer later in life. Just recently, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration has acknowledged the effect of BPA on human development and said it was working to remove the chemical from plastic baby bottles.

Warner’s preliminary results indicated that the carbonless copy paper used in the receipts contained high levels of BPA, much higher than the amounts that leached out of plastic baby bottles. This research was never published and this fact was made very clear in the initial report in Science News.

Today this story made big news in most newspapers and blogs worldwide. I personally saw in first in The Daily Mail, where these preliminary results were being shamelessly toted as just another reason why men shouldn’t do the shopping – because the chemicals on the receipts might make them impotent. A powerful example of how the game of Chinese whispers among journalists can completely distort the message of scientific research, or in this case, the message of just a few preliminary results.

My faith in humanity was partially restored when I saw that scientists were the 10th most trusted profession. I’d like to think that this demonstrates that people don’t appreciate being fed simplistic, misrepresented science in the media. For the most part, I hope that people are able to sort the fact from the hype in science journalism, and according to what they think of journalists in the annual trust survey, it appears that they do.

http://www.readersdigest.com.au/content/printContent.do?contentId=182809

http://www.abc.net.au/unleashed/stories/s2842091.htm


http://www.sciencenews.org/view/generic/id/48084/title/Science_%2B_the_Public__Concerned_about_BPA_Check_your_receipts

http://www.physorg.com/news182959051.html

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/sciencetech/article-1290753/Shopping-makes-men-impotent.html

Running science keeps us on our toes

It’s not the fall that hurts, but the sudden stop at the end. Scientists in the United States, Kenya and Scotland say this is also true for our feet when we run.

Recent research, published in the international science journal Nature by Leiberman and colleagues, compares foot strike patterns and vertical collision forces in habitually barefoot runners and runners who wear shoes.

There are three types of foot strike patterns in runners. Runners who strike the ground heel-first are called rear-foot strike (RFS) runners. Those who land on the ball of their foot are fore-foot strike (FFS) runners and those who strike simultaneously with their heel and the ball of their foot are mid-foot strike (MFS) runners.

It seems that foot strike pattern largely determines the vertical force experienced by a runner every time they hit the ground. It has to do with the biomechanics of the leg and the foot, and the conversion of translational force (the runner’s body moving up and down) into rotational force around the ankle.

In FFS runners, the calf acts like a spring during impact and some of the downwards force of the body is converted into rotational energy around the ankle joint. This means that much of the runner’s body mass can decelerate gradually rather than suddenly. In RFS runners, impact occurs just below the ankle and little downwards force can be converted to rotational energy, leaving a greater amount of body mass to decelerate quickly during foot strike. This results in a vertical force in RFS runners that is approximately three times higher than in FFS runners.

Furthermore, it appears that running shoes are influencing our foot strike patterns. Runners who normally run barefoot usually FFS or MFS. Runners who normally wear shoes tend to RFS.

Modern running shoes have an elevated cushioned heel to make RFS running more comfortable. However, running shoes may encourage RFS running. Foot strike patterns in a group of habitually-shod runners were recorded before and after six weeks of training in conditions to simulate barefoot running (no or minimal footwear). The proportion of RFS runners in the group decreased from 72% to 36% after barefoot running training.

This research has important implications for running-related injuries. Some members of the running community are staunch advocates of the benefits of barefoot running, and this research may support some of their claims. It is somewhat disconcerting, however, to find that this research was in part funded by Vibram USA, the designers of the new FiveFingers® footwear that aims to imitate barefoot running. We wait in anticipation of a controlled study, funded by bodies other than footwear companies, to compare the incidence of injuries among FFS, MFS and RFS runners, in shoes and barefoot.

Leiberman et al. (2010). Foot strike patterns and collision forces in habitually barefoot versus shod runners. Nature. 463:531-535.

World Cup soccer exposed as fake: Fans deluded

I’m a keen soccer fan, and since retiring from playing the game two years ago with injuries, I’ve taken up watching my boyfriend play on the weekend for the All Age 2 side at Sydney University.

I’m usually one of two or three supporters that turn up to watch the boys play – usually one of the younger guys’ dads and maybe a girlfriend of one of the players. Interestingly if there is a girl sitting on the sideline, it’s always someone different each week. My conversations with a few of these girls make me realise that I’m one of very few people who regularly watches park soccer – willingly, at least. The rapid turnover of fans for the AA2s suggest to me that most supporters begrudgingly meet their quota of attending one game per season, and that’s generally one game too many. I personally really enjoy having a front row seat to an always entertaining game of local social soccer. I will admit though that the minute-by-minute, player-by-player analysis of the game on the way home in the car can get slightly tedious.

But recently I’m struggling to fulfill my duty as the faithful spectator at these games. My attention wanders and I get distracted. Suddenly it is far more interesting to tear up blades of grass and sleep in the sun than watch the beautiful drama unfold in front of me. What’s wrong with me? Don’t I care about soccer anymore?

What’s wrong is that I’m suffering a case of World Cup delusion. Every four years soccer fans are bombarded with images and footage of soccer freaks from around the world. Men with fitness and skill so extraordinary that they make gravity-defying moves look effortless. In park soccer, the moments that make you gasp come not from feats of skill but feats that defy physics or all probability – most notably when you have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from yelling “How the %*$# did you miss that!” After seeing such well-oiled, perfectly drilled teams on TV, watching games where the ball spends more time stuck in trees or out on the road than on the pitch is quite a shock to the system.

So if I can get more than my fill of ridiculously good games from the comfort of the couch, what’s the point of making the trek halfway across Sydney, in weekend traffic, to sit on cold hard ground in bone chilling wind to watch amateur soccer?

The point is that World Cup soccer, and all professional soccer for that matter, is a fantasy world that in no way resembles the reality of the world game. The vast majority of soccer players around the world do not get paid tens of thousands of dollars to simply roll out of bed in the morning and rock up to training. Your average weekend warrior certainly does not get round-the-clock access to free physio treatment and massage or free boots and gear from their sponsors, nor do they play with the roundest ball ever manufactured on perfectly manicured pitches.

The reality of soccer is far more interesting and entertaining if you make the effort to go and watch it.

After navigating their way to an obscure field somewhere out in the Sydney ‘burbs, the weekend warrior turns their gaze to the pitch. You may not know that the pitch is an important factor to take into account when devising tactics for each game. Players should aim to keep any slide tackles or falling over to a minimum on concrete-like pitches. Make a spectacular slide on your knees to celebrate a goal like they do in the world cup and you will be rewarded with a spectacular hospital bill for your knee reconstruction. The more experienced in the team make mental notes of the sprinkler heads and ankle-twisting divots in the playing surface.

Commentators have been raving about the technology behind the playing surfaces at this year’s world cup – an impressive hybrid of natural grass and artificial turf to strengthen the field. Apparently no one has told them that this technology has been used on Sydney pitches for years. As the weekend warriors will attest, most Sydney soccer fields have at least some percentage of artificial turf, usually in the form of an Astroturf cricket pitch right across the middle of the field. Some Sydney councils kindly cover these cricket pitches during the soccer season with a two-foot high mound of top soil, forcing all play to the edges of the field and leaving centre midfielders picking clods of dirt out of their studs for days.

Nevertheless, the weekend warriors pull on their boots, using sufficient electrical tape to keep their toes from coming out the split that develops, without fail, along the inner seam of their shoes. These broken bravehearts are an innovative lot, devising imaginative methods to strap up dodgy knees and weak ankles and developing entirely new uses for heat cream. Broken legs and gushing wounds from head clashes can always be treated with water from someone’s drink bottle on the sideline. I’m still waiting for this all-curing “magic elixir” to be snapped up by pharmaceutical companies.

Weekend warriors are resourceful too. Three shirts that have the number “8” on the back? Some quick thinking and those guys have turned two of them into “18” and “81” with their trusty electrical tape. And it seems like these shirts are always recycled, lovingly salvaged from mythical soccer teams full of blokes sized XX-large (I’ve never understood why soccer clubs buy their jerseys so bloody big!).

Refs have a tough and thankless job and let me tell you, they’re not doing it for the money! But there has been a lot of dissatisfaction about the standard of refereeing this world cup. The Socceroos in particular are crying that they’ve been hard done by in their two games so far against Germany and Ghana. I reckon they should send some of our very talented local Sydney refs over to South Africa. Our referees are so good that they can accurately make offside calls without linesman and from the relative comfort of the centre circle. Unbelievable (yes, really)!

So get up off the couch and go and watch the weekend warrior you know play the game they love, even with the odds stacked against them in every way. You won’t have to put up with those awful vuvuzelas either!

Tahu offended by Johns' "black c***" remark

The unceremonious departure of Andrew Johns from the Blues origin camp earlier this week after making a racist slur about Queensland winger Greg Inglis was met with a unanimous call to address an underlying culture of racism in rugby league. Timana Tahu handed in his Blues guernsey in protest over the slur and has received full support from the likes of ex-player Anthony Mundine, Gold Coast full back Preston Campbell and Maroons coach Mal Meninga.

In a dressing room pep talk, Johns called Inglis a “black c***” and referred to himself as “white trailer trash from Cessnock”. Johns has emphasized that his comments were just banter to fire up the Blues squad and that there was no malice intended. Johns has expressed his remorse about his choice of language to the press and has apologized to Tahu in person.

I think that Joey's comments were probably made in jest. But the fact of the matter is that Johns’ comments were inappropriate and inexcusable, irrespective of their context. Regardless of your intentions, coaches and managerial staff need to avoid any language that could be interpreted as racist or discriminatory in any way. There are definitely better ways to motivate your players than making insulting remarks about the other team.

Nevertheless I find the irony of this media frenzy amusing. To clarify, I find nothing amusing about racism or Johns’ comments. Rather I am intrigued by which part of Johns’ slur that Tahu and others have found offensive, especially when some players’ respect for women has been called into question in the not so distant past. Most women find the word “c***” particularly insulting, but I don’t see any Blues players giving up their spot in the team in protest over this part of Johns’ remark.

While rugby league goes back into damage control to address perceived racism in the sport, perhaps it should also take a good hard look at their re-education programs that encourage players to respect women. If league is serious about improving its public image, coaches and managers need to lead by example and re-education needs to start from the top. Respect for people of different genders and races needs to come not only from the players but also the coaching and managerial staff who mentor them.