Public research
Dan Hind’s article about the democratisation of research funding allocation, and the ensuing correspondence, raises provocative questions about who chooses what research gets done (11 December 2010, p 26). However, it fails to take into account the strides already made in this direction.
Since losing my son to vCJD in 2001, I have been involved with, and now chair, the James Lind Alliance. Supported by UK public funds, the JLA enables clinicians, patients and carers to agree which areas of research matter most to them. The premise is that researchers and the drug industry have, for too long, dominated decisions about funding, and that those at the sharp end, the ill and those who care for them, must be involved in deciding key research.
Iain Chalmers, a driving force behind the JLA and the UK Database of Uncertainties About the Effects of Treatments (DUETs), cites several examples of the benefits of lay involvement in research. Though he concedes the need to build a formal evidence base for its effectiveness, he adds that many people “may feel that greater lay involvement in a pattern of research decision-making which has been dominated by professional researchers is justified on the basis of existing informal experience, common sense and justice”.
Dan Hind may not have used the phrase, but common sense and justice can take us a long way.
The galactic zoo
I wonder whether the solution to the Fermi paradox 鈥� that if there are intelligent aliens, why are there no signs of them 鈥� might be that a civilisation capable of colonising the stars may consider it, on the whole, wiser not to do so (5 February, p 40).
After all, the global population of Earth itself is incredibly diverse: colonies light years removed from their mother world might be expected to mutate even more dramatically. In only a few centuries we could find ourselves confronted with cousins akin to warmongering Klingons 鈥� a scenario perhaps best avoided.
Seeding the universe with bacteria is another question entirely and is, of course, not without risk. Though nothing would be likely to evolve for billions of years, an advanced, stay-at-home civilisation might be quick to change its ways if it found us sending waves of pestilence its way.
From Bryn Glover
I wondered whether your piece about sending life to other planets may have been an early April Fool, so shocked was I by the underlying arrogance of the suggested idea. The assumption that life on Earth is unique flies in the face of a large and growing body of understanding.
Such a position seems to rely on the assumption that the only source of “value” in the universe is life, and it occurs to me that this entire concept may be suffused with an element of religious fervour. Are some of those who are keen to pursue such ideas spurred by the belief that the universe is God’s creation, brought into being in order to serve the needs of humans? And, upon recognising that the Earth is not without end, have these same believers recognised a clear duty to their creator to ensure the perpetuation of his concept?
To these questions, I suggest that there is no need for the universe to have meaning or purpose. For the notion of value to make sense, there needs to be something or someone to appreciate that value. Like any open-minded individual, I eagerly await evidence of an external observer that can appreciate meaning in the universe. Until such a time, though, I remain unconvinced.
Cracoe, North Yorkshire, UK
Moonshadows
“Tales from an alternate Earth” (22 January, p 38) made fascinating reading, especially the scenario of our planet having two moons. One consequence of this, not mentioned in the article, is the variety of different eclipses that could occur. As well as the usual solar and lunar eclipses, we might be treated to spectacular displays in which one moon occults the other, or casts its shadow on it.
Microbes in mind
I read Linda Geddes’s account of how depression and mental illness might be catching with great interest (15 January, p 30). It made me wonder if researchers have considered similar work into chronic fatigue syndrome.
The effects of cytokines on the human body during times of illness closely match the symptoms reported by those suffering chronic fatigue and myalgic encephalomyelitis (ME). Perhaps investigating chronically raised inflammatory responses could shed some light on this poorly understood illness.
From Stephanie Woodcock
Geddes describes the case of Sammy Maloney, a 12-year-old who developed a set of complex, seemingly psychiatric symptoms but then recovered after prolonged antibiotic treatment. This is not particularly unusual.
A similar thing happened to me in the 1980s: I developed a set of bizarre symptoms that doctors couldn’t explain. Luckily, I have a microbiological background and guessed I had some sort of bacterial infection. Following my hunch, I treated myself with antibiotics. Like Sammy, I needed three years of treatment, but made a full recovery, which has now lasted 25 years.
Penryn, Cornwall, UK
Scientific curiosity
I would like to congratulate you on your suggestion that “to find out if DNA can be teleported, others must replicate this work” (15 January, p 5). Investigating heretical ideas reflects the true nature of science: a curiosity and passion to explore and discover.
Do those who suggest that such speculative work should never be published really deserve to be called scientists? While repeating everyday experiments and judiciously following protocols are essential to science, researchers should not allow their opinions, based on the current paradigm, to censor further exploration.
I urge you to continue to publish articles about “extraordinary” claims. The church closed its mind and would not look through Galileo’s telescope; modern science must not fall prey to the same attitude.
Dracula's disease
I was surprised that in your otherwise excellent article about the basis for belief in vampires (29 January, p 40), Paul Collins made no mention of porphyria 鈥� the disease many people believe started the vampire legend.
Porphyria is an incurable genetic disease, the symptoms of which align perfectly with those ascribed to vampires. Sufferers shun bright light because it irritates their skin and hurts their eyes. Their skin tightens and shrinks, and when this occurs around the mouth, the canine teeth appear to be more prominent, suggestive of fangs. Discoloration of the skin also gives sufferers a very pale appearance and, fittingly, garlic exacerbates these symptoms, so it should be avoided at all costs.
Finally, their urine takes on a reddish colour, which led some to believe those with porphyria drank blood. Some people with the disease did, in fact, drink blood to replace missing chemicals in their own bodies, though it was probably from an animal, rather than a human.
However, they certainly do not vanish in a mirror, and one suspects they can be killed with more than a silver bullet or a wooden stake.
Pharaoh point
In Jo Marchant’s article designed to debunk theories about Tutankhamun (15 January, p 42), it is a shame that a couple of myths surrounding his probable father, Akhenaten, seem to have been perpetuated. Probably the most mythologised character in history after Jesus, Akhenaten was, I believe, neither a heretic nor a monotheist.
The idea of heresy, meaning a departure of belief from a strict orthodoxy, was invented by a particular sect of Christians approximately between the years 110 and 150, and there was no concept like it before then. There was, anyway, no fixed theology or belief system in Ancient Egypt, and deities continually changed and evolved.
What’s more, a number of minor gods and spirits appear in Akhenaten’s official paintings and relief carvings, and images of other gods were found in the houses of his major officials. There is also no direct evidence that he suppressed worship or closed the temples of any gods other than Amun.
Jo Marchant writes:
鈥� With very little information available about Akhenaten and Tutankhamun, there will always be differing opinions on this subject. The feature went with the mainstream view, using as one of its sources the respected Egyptian historian Nicholas Reeves.
In his book The Complete Tutankhamun, Reeves writes about how Akhenaten imposed “a new order” on his subjects. Its basic tenet says “there is but one god, the Aten, the sole creator and gentle benefactor of mankind”.
As for whether Akhenaten was a heretic, it is obviously true that he wasn’t in the formal sense of disagreeing with the Roman Catholic church. The word heretic was used to suggest to the reader that his opinions were at odds with what was generally accepted at the time.
Who's a clever boy?
In your discussion about the ability of animals to develop a vocabulary, you mention Alex the grey parrot, who could make sentences out of about 100 words (25 December 2010, p 8).
That Alex did more than parrot the words he learned is best exemplified by an exchange recounted by his trainer, Irene Pepperberg, in her book Alex and Me (Harper, 2008, p 154). Fuming after a frustrating meeting, Pepperberg stormed silently into the lab where Alex was housed. Instead of his usual whistled greeting, Alex looked at his trainer and said, “Calm down.”
Alex’s response suggests a keen perception of non-verbal cues and an ability to produce, at least occasionally, a wonderfully appropriate verbalisation.
Queue for questions
When I read in Feedback (8 January) of a reader who was told that 2,147,483,646 people were ahead of him in a waiting list, it brought two questions to mind.
First, how many other New 杏吧原创 readers immediately recognised this number as 231 鈥� 2? And secondly, of all the things I learned at graduate school, why is this the only one I can remember?