The need for sustainable leadership in academia: A survey of German researchers reveals a widespread lack of training for leadership skills

A survey of academics in Germany shows a lack of and a great demand for training in leadership skills. Subject Categories: Careers, Science Policy & Publishing

Success and productivity in science is measured largely by the number of publications in scientific journals and the acquisition of third‐party funding to finance further research (Detsky, 2011). Consequently, as young researchers advance in their careers, they become highly trained in directly related skills, such as scientific writing, so as to increase their chances in securing publications and grants. Acquiring leadership skills, however, is often neglected as these do not contribute to the evaluation of scientific success (Detsky, 2011). Therefore, an early‐career researcher may become leader of a research group based on publication record and solicitation of third‐party funding, but without any training of leadership or team management skills (Lashuel, 2020). Leadership, in the context of academic research, requires a unique list of competencies, knowledge and skills in addition to “traditional” leadership skills (Anthony & Antony, 2017), such as managing change, adaptability, empathy, motivating individuals, and setting direction and vision among others. Academic leadership also requires promoting the research group’s reputation, networking, protecting staff autonomy, promoting academic credibility, and managing complexity (Anthony & Antony, 2017).     

Structural basis of transport and inhibition of the Plasmodium falciparum transporter PfFNT

In “Structural basis of transport and inhibition of the Plasmodium falciparum transporter PfFNT” by Lyu et al (2021), the authors depict the inhibitor MMV007839 in its hemiketal form in Fig 3A and F, Fig 4C, and Appendix Figs S10A, B and S13. We note that Golldack et al (2017) reported that the linear vinylogous acid tautomer of MMV007839 constitutes the binding and inhibitory entity of PfFNT. The authors are currently obtaining higher resolution cryo‐EM structural data of MMV007839‐bound PfFNT to ascertain which of the interconvertible isoforms is bound and the paper will be updated accordingly.     

Experts in science communication: A shift from neutral encyclopedia to equal participant in dialogue

Even if the predominant model of science communication with the public is now based on dialogue, many experts still adhere to the outdated deficit model of informing the public. Subject Categories: Genetics, Gene Therapy & Genetic Disease, S&S: History & Philosophy of Science, S&S: Ethics

During the past decades, public communication of science has undergone profound changes: from policy‐driven to policy‐informing, from promoting science to interpreting science, and from dissemination to interaction (Burgess, 2014). These shifts in communication paradigms have an impact on what is expected from scientists who engage in public communication: they should be seen as fellow citizens rather than experts whose task is to increase scientific literacy of the lay public. Many scientists engage in science communication, because they see this as their responsibility toward society (Loroño‐Leturiondo & Davies, 2018). Yet, a significant proportion of researchers still “view public engagement as an activity of talking to rather than with the public” (Hamlyn et al, 2015). The highly criticized “deficit model” that sees the role of experts as educating the public to mitigate skepticism still persists (Simis et al, 2016; Suldovsky, 2016).Indeed, a survey we conducted among experts in training seems to corroborate the persistence of the deficit model even among younger scientists. Based on these results and our own experience with organizing public dialogues about human germline gene editing (Box 1), we discuss the implications of this outdated science communication model and an alternative model of public engagement, that aims to align science with the needs and values of the public.Box 1

The DNA‐dialogue project

The Dutch DNA‐dialogue project invited citizens to discuss and form opinions about human germline gene editing. During 2019 and 2020, this project organized twenty‐seven dialogues with professionals, such as embryologists and midwives, and various lay audiences. Different scenarios of a world in 2039 (https://www.rathenau.nl/en/making‐perfect‐lives/discussing‐modification‐heritable‐dna‐embryos) served as the starting point. Participants expressed their initial reactions to these scenarios with emotion‐cards and thereby explored the values they themselves and other participants deemed important as they elaborated further. Starting each dialogue in this way provides a context that enables everyone to participate in dialogue about complex topics such as human germline gene editing and demonstrates that scientific knowledge should not be a prerequisite to participate.An important example of “different” relevant knowledge surfaced during a dialogue with children between 8 and 12 years in the Sophia Children’s Hospital in Rotterdam (Fig 1). Most adults in the DNA‐dialogues accepted human germline gene modification for severe genetic diseases, as they wished the best possible care and outcome for their children. The children at Sophia, however, stated that they would find it terrible if their parents had altered something about them before they had been born; their parents would not even have known them. Some children went so far to say they would no longer be themselves without their genetic condition, and that their condition had also given them experiences they would rather not have missed.Open in a separate windowFigure 1 Children participating in a DNA‐dialogue meeting. Photographed by Levien Willemse.     

Involving society in science: Reflections on meaningful and impactful stakeholder engagement in fundamental research

Open Science calls for transparent science and involvement of various stakeholders. Here are examples of and advice for meaningful stakeholder engagement. Subject Categories: Economics, Law & Politics, History & Philosophy of Science

The concepts of Open Science and Responsible Research and Innovation call for a more transparent and collaborative science, and more participation of citizens. The way to achieve this is through cooperation with different actors or “stakeholders”: individuals or organizations who can contribute to, or benefit from research, regardless of whether they are researchers themselves or not. Examples include funding agencies, citizens associations, patients, and policy makers (https://aquas.gencat.cat/web/.content/minisite/aquas/publicacions/2018/how_measure_engagement_research_saris1_aquas2018.pdf). Such cooperation is even more relevant in the current, challenging times—even apart from a global pandemic—when pseudo‐science, fake news, nihilist attitudes, and ideologies too often threaten social and technological progress enabled by science. Stakeholder engagement in research can inform and empower citizens, help render research more socially acceptable, and enable policies grounded on evidence‐based knowledge. Beyond, stakeholder engagement is also beneficial to researchers and to research itself. In a recent survey, the majority of scientists reported benefits from public engagement (Burns et al, 2021). This can include increased mutual trust and mutual learning, improved social relevance of research, and improved adoption of results and knowledge (Cottrell et al, 2014). Finally, stakeholder engagement is often regarded as an important factor to sustain public investment in the life sciences (Burns et al, 2021).

Stakeholder engagement in research can inform and empower citizens, help render research more socially acceptable and enable policies grounded on evidence‐based knowledge

Here, we discuss different levels of stakeholder engagement by way of example, presenting various activities organized by European research institutions. Based on these experiences, we propose ten reflection points that we believe should be considered by the institutions, the scientists, and the funding agencies to achieve meaningful and impactful stakeholder engagement.     

Promises and rules: The implications of rethinking the 14‐day rule for research on human embryos

Removing the 14‐day limit for research on human embryos without public deliberation could jeopardize public trust in and support of research on human development. Subject Categories: Development & Differentiation, S&S: Economics & Business, Molecular Biology of Disease

In On Revolution, Hannah Arendt, one of the great political thinkers of the 20^th century, stated that “promises and agreements deal with the future and provide stability in the ocean of future uncertainty where the unpredictable may break in from all sides” (Arendt, 1963). She cited the Mayflower Compact, which was “drawn up on the ship and signed upon landing” on the uncharted territory of the American continent, as such an example of promise in Western history. Human beings are born with the capacity to act freely amid the vast ocean of uncertainty, but this capacity also creates unpredictable and irreversible consequences. Thus, in society and in politics, moral virtues can only persist through “making promises and keeping them” (Arendt, 1959).     

Bioremediation of cyanide‐containing wastes: The potential of systems and synthetic biology for cleaning up the toxic leftovers from mining

Synthetic biology could harness the ability of microorganisms to use highly toxic cyanide compounds for growth applied to bioremediation of cyanide‐contaminated mining wastes and areas. Subject Categories: Biotechnology & Synthetic Biology, Evolution & Ecology, Metabolism

Cyanide is a highly toxic chemical produced in large amounts by the mining and jewellery industries, steel manufacturing, coal coking, food processing and chemical synthesis (Luque‐Almagro et al, 2011). The mining industry uses so‐called cyanide leaching to extract gold and other precious metals from ores, which leaves large amounts of cyanide‐containing liquid wastes with arsenic, mercury, lead, copper, zinc and sulphuric acid as cocontaminants.Although these techniques are very efficient, they still produce about one million tonnes of toxic wastewaters each year, which are usually stored in artificial ponds that are prone to leaching or dam breaks and pose a major threat to the environment and human health (Luque‐Almagro et al, 2016). In 2000, a dam burst in Baia Mare, Romania, caused one of the worst environmental disasters in Europe. Liquid waste from a gold mining operation containing about 100 tonnes of cyanide spilled into the Somes River and eventually reached the Danube, killing up to 80% of wildlife in the affected areas. A more recent spill was caused by a blast furnace at Burns Harbor, IN, USA, which released 2,400 kg of ammonia and 260 kg of cyanide at concentrations more than 1,000 times over the legal limit into Calumet River and Lake Michigan, severely affecting wildlife. Notwithstanding the enormous damage such major spills cause, industrial activities that continuously release small amounts of waste are similarly dangerous for human and environmental health.The European Parliament, as part of its General Union Environment Action Programme, has called for a ban on cyanide in mining activities to protect water resources and ecosystems against pollution. Although several EU member states have joined this initiative, there is still no binding legislation. Similarly, there are no general laws in the USA to prevent cyanide spills, and former administration even authorized the use of cyanide for control predators in agriculture.     

A bag of genes and surprises: Giant viruses continue to fascinate researchers for their role in eukaryote evolution and ecology

Giant viruses continue to yield fascinating discoveries from ancient eukaryotic immune defenses to viruses’ role in the global carbon cycle. Subject Categories: Ecology, Microbiology, Virology & Host Pathogen Interaction

The identification of the first giant virus shook up the field of virology in 2003 and challenged common ideas about the early evolution of viruses and eukaryotes (La Scola et al, 2003). Since, more giant viruses from different host species have been discovered, along with virophages that are viral parasites of giant viruses. It has also become increasingly clear that giant viruses and their parasites are not just another curiosity from an ecological niche but do play an important role in eukaryotic evolution and also perhaps in global marine carbon cycles. Notwithstanding, the evolution and ecology of giant viruses has become a fascinating field of study in itself.     

Reply to Bronstein and Vinogradov

The response by the author. Subject Categories: S&S: Economics & Business, S&S: Ethics

I thank Michael Bronstein and Sophia Vinogradov for their interest and comments. I would like to respond to a few of their points.First, I agree with the authors that empirical studies should be conducted to validate any approaches to prevent the spread of misinformation before their implementation. Nonetheless, I think that the ideas I have proposed may be worth further discussion and inspire empirical studies to test their effectiveness.Second, the authors warn that informing about the imperfections of scientific research may undermine trust in science and scientists, which could result in higher vulnerability to online health misinformation (Roozenbeek et al, 2020; Bronstein & Vinogradov, 2021). I believe that transparency about limitations and problems in research does not necessarily have to diminish trust in science and scientists. On the contrary, as Veit et al put it, “such honesty… is a prerequisite for maintaining a trusting relationship between medical institutions (and practitioners) and the public” (Veit et al, 2021). Importantly, to give an honest picture of scientific research, information about its limitations should be put in adequate context. In particular, the public also should be aware that “good science” is being done by many researchers; we do have solid evidence of effectiveness of many medical interventions; and efforts are being taken to address the problems related to quality of research.Third, Bronstein and Vinogradov suggest that false and dangerous information should be censored. I agree with the authors that “[c]ensorship can prevent individuals from being exposed to false and potentially dangerous ideas” (Bronstein & Vinogradov, 2021). I also recognize that some information is false beyond any doubt and its spread may be harmful. What I am concerned about are, among others, the challenges related to defining what is dangerous and false information and limiting censorship only to this kind of information. For example, on what sources should decisions to censor be based and who should make such decisions? Anyone, whether an individual or an organization, with a responsibility to censor information will likely not only be prone to mistakes, but also to abuses of power to foster their interests. Do the benefits we want to achieve by censorship outweigh the potential risks?Fourth, we need rigorous empirical studies examining the actual impact of medical misinformation. What exactly are the harms we try to protect against and what is their scale? This information is necessary to choose proportionte and effective measures to reduce the harms. Bronstein and Vinogradov give an example of a harm which may be caused by misinformation—an increase in methanol poisoning in Iran. Yet, as noticed by the authors, misinformation is not the sole factor in this case; there are also cultural and other contexts (Arasteh et al, 2020; Bronstein & Vinogradov, 2021). Importantly, the methods of studies exploring the effects of misinformation should be carefully elaborated, especially when study participants are asked to self‐report. A recent study suggests that some claims about the prevalence of dangerous behaviors, such as drinking bleach, which may have been caused by misinformation are largely exaggerated due to the presence of problematic respondents in surveys (preprint: Litman et al, 2021).Last but not least, I would like to call attention to the importance of how veracity of information is determined in empirical studies on misinformation. For example, in a study of Roozenbeek et al, cited by Bronstein and Vinogradov, the World Health Organization (WHO) was used as reliable source of information, which raises questions. For instance, Roozenbeek et al (2020) used a statement “the coronavirus was bioengineered in a military lab in Wuhan” as an example of false information, relying on the judgment of the WHO found on its “mythbusters” website (Roozenbeek et al, 2020). Yet, is there a solid evidence to claim that this statement is false? At present, at least some scientists declare that we cannot rule out that the virus was genetically manipulated in a laboratory (Relman, 2020; Segreto & Deigin, 2020). Interestingly, the WHO also no longer excludes such a possibility and has launched an investigation on this issue (https://www.who.int/health‐topics/coronavirus/origins‐of‐the‐virus, https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel‐coronavirus‐2019/media‐resources/science‐in‐5/episode‐21‐‐‐covid‐19‐‐‐origins‐of‐the‐sars‐cov‐2‐virus); the information about the laboratory origin of the virus being false is no longer present on the WHO “mythbusters” website (https://www.who.int/emergencies/diseases/novel‐coronavirus‐2019/advice‐for‐public/myth‐busters). Against this backdrop, some results of the study by Roozenbeek et al (2020) seem misleading. In particular, the perception of the reliability of the statement about bioengineered virus by study participants in Roozenbeek et al (2020) does not reflect the susceptibility to misinformation, as intended by the researchers, but rather how the respondents perceive reliability of uncertain information.I hope that discussion and research on these and related issues will continue.     

Prenatal genetic screening and the evolving quest for “perfect babies”: at what cost for genetic diversity?

Commercial screening services for inheritable diseases raise concerns about pressure on parents to terminate “imperfect babies”. Subject Categories: S&S: Economics & Business, Molecular Biology of Disease

Nearly two decades have passed since the first draft sequences of the human genome were published at the eyewatering cost of nearly US$3 billion for the publicly funded project. Sequencing costs have dropped drastically since, and a range of direct‐to‐consumer genetics companies now offer partial sequencing of your individual genome in the US$100 price range, and whole‐genome sequencing for less than US$1,000.While such tests are mainly for personal peruse, there have also been substantial drops in price in clinical genome sequencing, which has greatly enabled the study of and screening for inheritable disorders. This has both advanced our understanding of these diseases in general, and benefitted early diagnosis of many genetic disorders, which is crucial for early and efficient treatment. Such detection can, in fact, now occur long before birth: from cell‐free DNA testing during the first trimester of pregnancy, to genetic testing of embryos generated by in vitro fertilization, to preconception carrier screening of parents to find out if both are carriers of an autosomal recessive condition. While such prenatal testing of foetuses or embryos primarily focuses on diseases caused by chromosomal abnormalities, technological advances allow also for the testing of an increasing number of heritable monogenic conditions in cases where the disease‐causing variants are known.The medical benefits of such screening are obvious: I personally have lost two pregnancies, one to Turner''s syndrome and the other to an extremely rare and lethal autosomal recessive skeletal dysplasia, and I know first‐hand the heartbreak and devastation involved in finding out that you will lose the child you already love so much. It should be noted though that, very rarely, Turner syndrome is survivable and the long‐term outlook is typically good in those cases (GARD, 2021). In addition, I have Kallmann syndrome, a highly genetically complex dominant endocrine disorder (Maoine et al, 2018), and early detection and treatment make a difference in outcome. Being able to screen early during pregnancy or childhood therefore has significant benefits for affected children. Many other genetic disorders similarly benefit from prenatal screening and detection.But there is also obvious cause for concern: the concept of “designer babies” selected for sex, physical features, or other apparent benefits is well entrenched in our society – and indeed culture – as a product from a dystopian future. Just as a recent example, Philipp Ball, writing for the Guardian in 2017, described designer babies as “an ethical horror waiting to happen” (Ball, 2017). In addition, various commercial enterprises hope to capitalize on these screening technologies. Orchid Inc claims that their preconception screening allows you to “… safely and naturally, protect your baby from diseases that run in your family”. The fact that this is hugely problematic if not impossible from a technological perspective has already been extensively clarified by Lior Pachter, a computational biologist at Caltech (Pachter, 2021). George Church at Harvard University suggested creating a DNA‐based dating app that would effectively prevent people who are both carriers for certain genetic conditions from matching (Flynn, 2019). Richard Dawkins at Oxford University recently commented that “…the decision to deliberately give birth to a Down [syndrome] baby, when you have the choice to abort it early in the pregnancy, might actually be immoral from the point of view of the child’s own welfare” (Dawkins, 2021).These are just a few examples, and as screening technology becomes cheaper, more companies will jump on the bandwagon of perfect “healthy” babies. Conversely, this creates a risk that parents come under pressure to terminate pregnancies with “imperfect babies” as I have experienced myself. What does this mean for people with rare diseases? From my personal moral perspective, the ethics are clear in cases where the pregnancy is clearly not viable. Yet, there are literally thousands of monogenic conditions and even chromosomal abnormalities, not all of which are lethal, and we are making constant strides in treating conditions that were previously considered untreatable. In addition, there is still societal prejudice against people with genetic disorders, and ignorance about how it is to live with a rare disease. In reality, however, all rare disease patients I have encountered are happy to be alive and here, even those whose conditions have significant impact on their quality of life. Many of us also don''t like the term “disorder” or “syndrome”, as we are so much more than merely a disorder or a syndrome.Unfortunately, I also see many parents panic about the results of prenatal testing. Without adequate genetic counselling, they do not understand that their baby’s condition may have actually a quite good prognosis without major impact on the quality of life. Following from this, a mere diagnosis of a rare disease – many of which would not even necessarily have been detectable until later in life, if at all – can be enough to make parents consider termination, due to social stigma.This of course raises the thorny issue of regulation, which range from the USA where there is little to no regulation of such screening technologies (ACOG, 2020), to Sweden where such screening technologies are banned with the exception of specific high‐risk/lethal medical conditions both parents are known carriers for (SMER, 2021). As countries come to grips with both the potential and the risks involved in new screening technologies, medical ethics board have approached this issue. And as screening technologies advance, we will need to ask ourselves difficult questions as a society. I know that in the world of “perfect babies” that some of these companies and individuals are trying to promote, I would not exist, nor would my daughter. I have never before had to find myself so often explaining to people that our lives have value, and I do not want to continue having to do so. Like other forms of diversity, genetic diversity is important and makes us richer as a society. As these screening technologies quickly advance and become more widely available, regulation should at least guarantee that screening must involve proper genetic counselling from a trained clinical geneticist so that parents actually understand the implications of the test results. More urgently, we need to address the problem of societal attitudes towards rare diseases, face the prejudice and fear towards patients, and understand that abolishing genetic diversity in a quest for perfect babies would impoverish humanity and make the world a much poorer place.     

Discussions on the quality of antibodies are no reason to ban animal immunization

Debates about the source of antibodies and their use are confusing two different issues. A ban on life immunization would have no repercussions on the quality of antibodies. Subject Categories: S&S: Economics & Business, Methods & Resources, Chemical Biology

There is an ongoing debate on how antibodies are being generated, produced and used (Gray, 2020; Marx, 2020). Or rather, there are two debates, which are not necessarily related to each other. The first one concerns the quality of antibodies used in scientific research and the repercussions for the validity of results (Bradbury & Pluckthun, 2015). The second debate is about the use of animals to generate and produce antibodies. Although these are two different issues, we observe that the debates have become entangled with arguments for one topic incorrectly being used to motivate the other and vice versa. This is not helpful, and we should disentangle the knot.Polyclonal antibodies are being criticized because they suffer from cross‐reactivity, high background and batch‐to‐batch variation (Bradbury & Pluckthun, 2015). Monoclonal antibodies produced from hybridomas are criticized because they often lack specificity owing to genetic heterogeneity introduced during hybridoma generation that impairs the quality of the monoclonals (Bradbury et al, 2018). These are valid criticisms and producing antibodies in a recombinant manner will, indeed, help to improve quality and specificity. But a mediocre antibody will remain a mediocre antibody, no matter how it is produced. Recombinant methods will just produce a mediocre antibody more consistently.Getting a good antibody is not easy and much depends on the nature and complexity of the antigen. And low‐quality antibodies are often the result of poor screening, poor quality control, incomplete characterization and the lack of international standards. Nevertheless, the technologies to ensure good selection and to guarantee consistent quality are much more advanced than a decade ago, and scientists and antibody producers should implement these to deliver high‐quality antibodies. Whether antibodies are generated by animal immunization or from naïve or synthetic antibody libraries is less relevant; they can all be produced recombinantly, and screening and characterization are needed in all cases to determine quality, and if the antibody is fit for purpose.But criticisms on the quality of many antibodies and pleas for switching to recombinant production of antibodies cannot be mixed up with a call to ban animal immunization. The EU Reference Laboratory for Alternatives to Animal Testing (EURL ECVAM) recently published a recommendation to stop using animals for generating and producing antibodies for scientific, diagnostic and even therapeutic applications (EURL ECVAM, 2020). This recommendation is mainly supported by scientists who seem to be biased towards synthetic antibody technology for various reasons. Their main argument is that antibodies derived from naïve or synthetic libraries are a valid (and exclusive) alternative. But are they?One can certainly select antibodies from non‐immune libraries, and, depending on the antigen and the type of application, these antibodies can be fit for purpose. In fact, a few of such antibodies have made it to the market as therapeutics, Adalimumab (Humira®) being a well‐known example. But up to now, the vast majority of antibodies continues to come from animal immunization (Lu et al, 2020). And there is a good reason for that. It is generally possible to generate a few positive hits in a naïve/synthetic library; and the more diverse the library, the more hits one is likely to get. But many decades of experience with immunization of animals—especially when they are outbred—shows that they generate larger amounts of antibodies with superior properties. And the more complex your antigen is, the more the balance swings towards animal immunization if you want to have a guarantee for success.There are different factors at work here. First, the immune system of mammals has evolved over millions of years to efficiently produce excellent antibodies against a very diverse range of antigens. Second, presenting the antigen multiple times in its desired (native) conformation to the animal immune system exploits the natural maturation process to fine‐tune the immune response against particular qualities. Another factor is that in vivo maturation seems to select against negative properties such as self‐recognition and aggregation. It also helps to select for important properties that go beyond mere molecular recognition (Jain et al, 2017). In industrial parlance, antibodies from animal immunization are more “developable” and have favourable biophysical properties (Lonberg, 2005). Indeed, the failure rate for antibodies selected from naïve or synthetic libraries is significantly higher.Of course, the properties of synthetic antibodies selected from non‐immune libraries can be further matured in vitro, for example by light chain shuffling or targeted mutagenesis of the complementarity determining region (CDR). While this method has become more sophisticated over the years, it remains a very complex and iterative process without guarantee that it produces a high‐quality antibody.Antibodies are an ever more important tool in scientific research and a growing area in human and veterinary therapeutics. Major therapeutic breakthroughs in immunology and oncology in the past decades are based on antibodies (Lu et al, 2020). The vast majority of these therapeutic antibodies were derived from animals. An identical picture appears when you look at the antibodies in fast‐track development to combat the current COVID‐19 crisis: again, the vast majority are either derived from patients or from animal immunizations. The same holds true for antibodies that are used in diagnostics and epidemiologic studies for COVID‐19.It is for that reason that we need the tools and methods that guarantee antibodies of the highest quality and provide the best chance for success. The COVID‐19 pandemic is only one illustration of this need. If we block access to these tools, both scientific research and society at large will be negatively impacted. We therefore should not limit ourselves to naïve and synthetic libraries. Animal immunization remains an inevitable method that needs to stay. But we all agree that these immunizations must be performed under best practice to further reduce the harm to animals.     

Structural basis of transport and inhibition of the Plasmodium falciparum transporter PfFNT

Subject Categories: Membranes & Trafficking, Microbiology, Virology & Host Pathogen Interaction, Structural Biology

We recently reported the first structures of the Plasmodium falciparum transporter PfFNT, both in the absence and presence of the inhibitor MMV007839 (Lyu et al, 2021). These structures indicated that PfFNT assembles as a pentamer. The bound MMV007839 was found in the middle of the elongated channel formed by each PfFNT protomer, adjacent to residue G107. MMV007839 exists in two tautomeric forms and can adopt either a cyclic hemiketal‐like structure or a linear vinylogous acid conformation (Fig ​(Fig3A).3A). Unfortunately, these two tautomeric forms could not be clearly distinguished based on the existing cryo‐EM data at 2.78 Å resolution. The bound MMV007839 inhibitor was reported as the cyclic hemiketal‐like form in the structure in Figs ​Figs3A3A and ​andF,F, and ​and4C,4C, Appendix Figs S10A and B, and S13 and in the online synopsis image.Open in a separate windowFigure 3Cryo‐EM structure of the PfFNT‐MMV007839 complex

1. Chemical structure of MMV007839. The compound can either be in cyclic hemiketal‐like or linear vinylogous acid tautomeric forms.
2. Cryo‐EM density map of pentameric PfFNT viewed from the parasite’s cytoplasm. Densities of the five bound MMV007839 within the pentamer are colored red. The five protomers of pentameric PfFNT are colored yellow, slate, orange, purple, and gray.
3. Ribbon diagram of the 2.18‐Å resolution structure of pentameric PfFNT‐MMV007839 viewed from the parasite’s cytoplasm. The five protomers of pentameric PfFNT are colored yellow, slate, orange, purple, and gray.
4. Ribbon diagram of pentameric PfFNT‐MMV007839 viewed from the extracellular side of the parasite. The five protomers of pentameric PfFNT are colored yellow, slate, orange, purple, and gray.
5. Ribbon diagram of pentameric PfFNT‐MMV007839 viewed from the parasite’s membrane plane. The five protomers of pentameric PfFNT are colored yellow, slate, orange, purple, and gray. Densities of the five bound MMV007839 are depicted as red meshes.
6. The MMV007839‐binding site of PfFNT. The bound MMV007839 is colored green. Density of the bound MMV007839 is depicted as black mesh. Residues involved in forming the inhibitor binding site are colored yellow. The hydrogen bonds are highlighted with black dotted lines.

Open in a separate windowFigure 4Structure of the central channel in the PfFNT‐MMV007839 protomer

• CA cartoon of the central channel formed within a PfFNT protomer. The channel contains one constriction site in this conformational state. Residues forming the constriction and the K35‐D103‐N108 and K177‐E229‐N234 triads are illustrated as sticks. Residues F94, I97, and L104, which form the first constriction site in the apo‐PfFNT structure, are also included in the figure.

Eric Beitz alerted us to the findings reported by his group that the linear vinylogous acid tautomer of MMV007839 constitutes the binding and inhibitory entity of PfFNT (Golldack et al, 2017).     

Insulin responsiveness of glucose transporter 4 in 3T3-L1 cells depends on the presence of sortilin

Insulin-dependent translocation of glucose transporter 4 (Glut4) to the plasma membrane of fat and skeletal muscle cells plays the key role in postprandial clearance of blood glucose. Glut4 represents the major cell-specific component of the insulin-responsive vesicles (IRVs). It is not clear, however, whether the presence of Glut4 in the IRVs is essential for their ability to respond to insulin stimulation. We prepared two lines of 3T3-L1 cells with low and high expression of myc₇-Glut4 and studied its translocation to the plasma membrane upon insulin stimulation, using fluorescence-assisted cell sorting and cell surface biotinylation. In undifferentiated 3T3-L1 preadipocytes, translocation of myc₇-Glut4 was low regardless of its expression levels. Coexpression of sortilin increased targeting of myc₇-Glut4 to the IRVs, and its insulin responsiveness rose to the maximal levels observed in fully differentiated adipocytes. Sortilin ectopically expressed in undifferentiated cells was translocated to the plasma membrane regardless of the presence or absence of myc₇-Glut4. AS160/TBC1D4 is expressed at low levels in preadipocytes but is induced in differentiation and provides an additional mechanism for the intracellular retention and insulin-stimulated release of Glut4.Adipocytes, skeletal muscle cells, and some neurons respond to insulin stimulation by translocating intracellular glucose transporter 4 (Glut4) to the plasma membrane. In all these cells, the insulin-responsive pool of Glut4 is localized in small membrane vesicles, the insulin-responsive vesicles (IRVs; Kandror and Pilch, 2011 ; Bogan, 2012 ). The protein composition of these vesicles has been largely characterized (Kandror and Pilch, 2011 ; Bogan, 2012 ). The IRVs consist predominantly of Glut4, insulin-responsive aminopeptidase (IRAP), sortilin, low-density-lipoprotein receptor–related protein 1 (LRP1), SCAMPs, and VAMP2. Glut4, IRAP, and sortilin physically interact with each other, which might be important for the biogenesis of the IRVs (Shi and Kandror, 2007 ; Shi et al., 2008 ). In addition, the IRVs compartmentalize recycling receptors, such as the transferrin receptor and the IGF2/mannose 6-phosphate receptor, although it is not clear whether these receptors represent obligatory vesicular components or their presence in the IRVs is explained by mass action (Pilch, 2008 ), inefficient sorting, or other reasons.Deciphering of the protein composition of the IRVs is important because it is likely to explain their unique functional property: translocation to the plasma membrane in response to insulin stimulation. Even if we presume that IRV trafficking is controlled by loosely associated peripheral membrane proteins, the latter should still somehow recognize the core vesicular components that create the “biochemical individuality” of this compartment. In spite of our knowledge of the IRV protein composition, however, the identity of the protein(s) that confer insulin sensitivity to these vesicles is unknown.Insulin responsiveness of the IRVs was associated with either IRAP or Glut4. Thus it was shown that Glut4 interacted with the intracellular anchor TUG (Bogan et al., 2003 , 2012 ), whereas IRAP associated with other proteins implemented in the regulation of Glut4 translocation, such as AS160 (Larance et al., 2005 ; Peck et al., 2006 ), p115 (Hosaka et al., 2005 ), tankyrase (Yeh et al., 2007 ), and several others (reviewed in Bogan, 2012 ). Results of these studies, or at least their interpretations, are not necessarily consistent with each other, as the existence of multiple independent anchors for the IRVs is, although possible, unlikely.Ablation of the individual IRV proteins has also led to controversial data. Thus knockout of IRAP decreases total protein levels of Glut4 but does not affect its translocation in the mouse model (Keller et al., 2002 ). On the contrary, knockdown of IRAP in 3T3-L1 adipocytes has a strong inhibitory effect on translocation of Glut4 (Yeh et al., 2007 ). In yet another study, knockdown of IRAP in 3T3-L1 adipocytes did not affect insulin-stimulated translocation of Glut4 but increased its plasma membrane content under basal conditions (Jordens et al., 2010 ). By the same token, total or partial ablation of Glut4 had various effects on expression levels, intracellular localization, and translocation of IRAP (Jiang et al., 2001 ; Abel et al., 2004 ; Carvalho et al., 2004 ; Gross et al., 2004 ; Yeh et al., 2007 ). Knockdown of either sortilin or LRP1 decreased protein levels of Glut4 (Shi and Kandror, 2005 ; Jedrychowski et al., 2010 ).One model that might explain these complicated and somewhat inconsistent results is that depletion of either major integral protein of the IRVs disrupts the network of interactions between vesicular proteins and thus decreases the efficiency of protein sorting into the IRVs (Kandror and Pilch, 2011 ). Correspondingly, the remaining IRV components that cannot be faithfully compartmentalized in the vesicles are either degraded (Jiang et al., 2001 ; Keller et al., 2002 ; Abel et al., 2004 ; Carvalho et al., 2004 ; Shi and Kandror, 2005 ; Yeh et al., 2007 ; Jedrychowski et al., 2010 ) or mistargeted (Jiang et al., 2001 ; Jordens et al., 2010 ), depending on experimental conditions and types of cells used in these studies. In other words, knockdown of any major IRV component may decrease vesicle formation along with insulin responsiveness. Thus, in spite of a large body of literature, the identity of protein(s) that confer insulin responsiveness to the IRVs is unknown.Here we used a gain-of-function approach to address this question. Specifically, we attempted to “build” functional IRVs in undifferentiated 3T3-L1 preadipocytes by forced expression of the relevant proteins. Undifferentiated preadipocytes do not express Glut4 or sortilin and lack IRVs (ElJack et al., 1999 ; Shi and Kandror, 2005 ; Shi et al., 2008 ). Correspondingly, IRAP, which is expressed in these cells, shows low insulin response (Ross et al., 1998 ; Shi et al., 2008 ). We found that ectopic expression of increasing amounts of Glut4 in undifferentiated preadipocytes does not lead to its marked translocation to the plasma membrane upon insulin stimulation. On the contrary, sortilin expressed in undifferentiated preadipocytes was localized in the IRVs and was translocated to the plasma membrane in response to insulin stimulation. Moreover, upon coexpression with Glut4, sortilin dramatically increased its insulin responsiveness to the levels observed in fully differentiated adipocytes. Thus sortilin may represent the key component of the IRVs, which is responsible not only for the formation of vesicles (Shi and Kandror, 2005 ; Ariga et al., 2008 ; Hatakeyama and Kanzaki, 2011 ), but also for their insulin responsiveness. It is worth noting that sortilin levels are significantly decreased in obese and diabetic humans and mice (Kaddai et al., 2009 ). We thus suggest that sortilin may be a novel and important target in the fight against insulin resistance and diabetes.Our experiments also demonstrate that undifferentiated preadipocytes lack a mechanism for the full intracellular retention of Glut4 that can be achieved by ectopic expression of AS160/TBC1D4.     

How many animals are used for SARS‐CoV‐2 research?: An overview on animal experimentation in pre‐clinical and basic research

Non‐technical summaries of research projects allow tracking the numbers and purpose of animal experiments related to SARS‐CoV2 research so as to provide greater transparency on animal use. Subject Categories: Economics, Law & Politics, Pharmacology & Drug Discovery, Science Policy & Publishing

The COVID‐19 pandemic has accelerated biomedical research and drug development to an unprecedented pace. Governments worldwide released emergency funding for biomedical research that allowed scientists to focus on COVID‐19 and related drug and vaccine development. As a result, a flood of scientific articles on SARS‐CoV‐2 and COVID‐19 was published since early 2020. More importantly though, within less than 2 years, scientists in academia and industry developed vaccines against the virus from scratch: Several vaccines have now received regulatory approval and are being mass produced to immunize the human population worldwide.This colossal success of science rests in large part on the shoulders of animals that were used in basic and pre‐clinical research and regulatory testing. Notwithstanding, animal experimentation has remained a highly controversial and heated topic between advocates for research and animal rights activists. During the past decades, European policymakers responded to the debate by enacting stricter regulations, which inevitably has increased the bureaucratic hurdles for experimentation on animals. Scientists have for long spoken out against this additional burden, arguing that both basic and translational researches to improve human health crucially relies on animal experimentation—as the COVID‐19 pandemic aptly demonstrated (Genzel et al, 2020).     

Secretory production of an FAD cofactor-containing cytosolic enzyme (sorbitol–xylitol oxidase from Streptomyces coelicolor) using the twin-arginine translocation (Tat) pathway of Corynebacterium glutamicum

Carbohydrate oxidases are biotechnologically interesting enzymes that require a tightly or covalently bound cofactor for activity. Using the industrial workhorse Corynebacterium glutamicum as the expression host, successful secretion of a normally cytosolic FAD cofactor-containing sorbitol–xylitol oxidase from Streptomyces coelicolor was achieved by using the twin-arginine translocation (Tat) protein export machinery for protein translocation across the cytoplasmic membrane. Our results demonstrate for the first time that, also for cofactor-containing proteins, a secretory production strategy is a feasible and promising alternative to conventional intracellular expression strategies.The secretory expression of recombinant proteins can offer significant process advantages over cytosolic production strategies, since secretion into the growth medium greatly facilitates downstream processing and therefore can significantly reduce the costs of producing a desired target protein (Quax, 1997). And, in fact, the enormous secretion capacity of certain Gram-positive bacteria (e.g. various Bacillus species) has been used since many years in industry for the production of mainly host-derived secretory proteins such as proteases and amylases, resulting in amounts of more than 20 g l⁻¹ culture medium (Harwood and Cranenburg, 2008). In contrast, attempts to use Bacillus species for the secretory production of heterologous proteins have often failed or led to disappointing results, a fact that, among other reasons, could in many cases be attributed to the presence of multiple cell wall-associated and secreted proteases that rapidly degraded the heterologous target proteins (Li et al., 2004; Sarvas et al., 2004; Westers et al., 2011). Therefore, an increasing need exists to explore alternative host systems with respect to their ability to express and secrete problematic and/or complex heterologous proteins of biotechnological interest.So far, the Gram-positive bacterium Corynebacterium glutamicum has been used in industry mainly for the production of amino acids and other low-molecular weight compounds (Leuchtenberger et al., 2005; Becker and Wittmann, 2011; Litsanov et al., 2012). However, various recent reports have indicated that C. glutamicum might likewise possess a great potential as an alternative host system for the secretory expression of foreign proteins. Corynebacterium glutamicum belongs to a class of diderm Gram-positive bacteria that, besides the cytoplasmic membrane, possess an additional mycolic acid-containing outer membrane-like structure that acts as an extremely efficient permeability barrier for hydrophilic compounds (Hoffmann et al., 2008; Zuber et al., 2008). Despite this fact, an efficient secretion of various heterologous proteins into the growth medium of this microorganism has been observed (e.g. Billman-Jacobe et al., 1995; Meissner et al., 2007; Kikuchi et al., 2009; Tateno et al., 2009; Tsuchidate et al., 2011).In bacteria, two major export pathways exist for the transport of proteins across the cytoplasmic membrane that fundamentally differ with respect to the folding status of their respective substrate proteins during the actual translocation step. The general secretion (Sec) system transports its substrates in a more or less unfolded state and folding takes places on the trans side of the membrane after the actual transport event (Yuan et al., 2010; du Plessis et al., 2011). In contrast, the alternative twin-arginine translocation (Tat) system translocates its substrates in a fully folded form and therefore provides an attractive alternative for the secretory production of proteins that cannot be produced in a functional form via the Sec route (Brüser, 2007). Carbohydrate oxidases are biotechnologically interesting enzymes (van Hellemond et al., 2006) that are excluded from Sec-dependent secretion since they depend on a tightly or covalently bound cofactor for their activity and, for this reason, require that their folding and cofactor insertion has to take place in the cytosol. Because C. glutamicum has shown to be an excellent host for the Tat-dependent secretion of the cofactor-less model protein GFP (Meissner et al., 2007; Teramoto et al., 2011), we now asked whether it is likewise possible to secrete a cofactor-containing enzyme into the supernatant of C. glutamicum using the same protein export route.As a model protein, we chose the sorbitol–xylitol oxidase (SoXy) from Streptomyces coelicolor, a normally cytosolic enzyme that possesses a covalently bound FAD molecule as cofactor (Heuts et al., 2007; Forneris et al., 2008). FAD is incorporated into the apoprotein in a post-translational and self-catalytic process that only occurs if the polypeptide chain has adopted a correctly folded structure (Heuts et al., 2007; 2009). To direct SoXy into the Tat export pathway of C. glutamicum, we constructed a gene encoding a TorA–SoXy hybrid precursor in which SoXy is fused to the strictly Tat-specific signal peptide of the periplasmic Escherichia coli Tat substrate trimethylamine N-oxide reductase (TorA) (Fig. 1) which, in our previous study, has been proven to be a functional and strictly Tat-specific signal peptide also in C. glutamicum (Meissner et al., 2007). The corresponding torA–soxy gene was cloned into the expression vector pEKEx2 (Eikmanns et al., 1991) under the control of an IPTG-inducible P_tac promotor. After transformation of the resulting plasmid pTorA–SoXy into the C. glutamicum ATCC13032 wild-type strain, two independent colonies of the resulting recombinant C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy) strain and, as a control, a colony of a strain that contained the empty expression vector without insert [C. glutamicum (pEKEx2)] were grown in CGXII medium (Keilhauer et al., 1993) at 30°C for 16 h in the presence of 1 mM IPTG. Subsequently, the proteins present in the culture supernatants were analysed by SDS-PAGE followed by staining with Coomassie blue. As shown in Fig. 2, in the supernatants of the pTorA–SoXy-containing cells (lanes 3 and 4), a prominent protein band of approximately 44 kDa can be detected, the size of which is very similar to the calculated molecular mass (44.4 kDa) of SoXy. Since this band is completely lacking in the supernatant of the control strain (lane 2), this strongly suggests that this band corresponds to SoXy that has been secreted into the culture supernatant of C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy). And, in fact, this suggestion was subsequently confirmed in a direct way by MALDI-TOF mass spectrometry after extraction of the protein out of the gel followed by tryptic digestion (Schaffer et al., 2001) (data not shown).Open in a separate windowFigure 1The TorA–SoXy hybrid precursor protein. Upper part: Schematic drawing of the relevant part of the pTorA–SoXy expression vector. P_tac, IPTG-inducible tac promotor. RBS, ribosome binding site. To maintain the authentic TorA signal peptidase cleavage site, the first four amino acids of the mature TorA protein (black bar) were retained in the TorA–SoXy fusion protein. White bar: TorA signal peptide (TorA^SP); grey bar: SoXy (amino acids 2–418). Lower part: Amino acid sequence of the signal peptide and early mature region of the TorA–SoXy hybrid precursor. The twin-arginine consensus motif of the TorA signal peptide is underlined. The four amino acids derived from mature TorA are shown in italics. The signal peptidase cleavage site is indicated by an arrowhead.Open in a separate windowFigure 2Secretion of SoXy into the growth medium of C. glutamicum. Cells of C. glutamicum ATCC13032 containing the empty vector pEKEx2 and two independently transformed colonies of C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy) were grown overnight in 5 ml of BHI medium (Difco) at 30°C. The cells were washed once with CGXII medium (Keilhauer et al., 1993) and inoculated to an OD₆₀₀ of 0.5 in 5 ml of fresh CGXII medium containing 1 mM IPTG. After 16 h of further growth at 30°C, the supernatant fractions were prepared as described previously (Meissner et al., 2007). Samples corresponding to an equal number of cells were subjected to SDS-PAGE followed by staining with Coomassie blue. Lane 1, molecular mass marker (kDa). Lane 2, C. glutamicum (pEKEx2); lanes 3 and 4, C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy). The position of the secreted SoXy protein is indicated by an arrow.Next, the supernatant of C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy) was analysed for SoXy enzyme activity by measuring the production of H₂O₂ that is formed during the enzymatic conversion of sorbitol to fructose (Meiattini, 1983). Six hours after induction of gene expression by 1 mM IPTG, an enzymatic activity of 10.3 ± 1.6 nmol min⁻¹ ml⁻¹ could be determined in the supernatant of C. glutamicum (pTorA–SoXy). In contrast, no such activity was found in the supernatant of the control strain C. glutamicum (pEKEx2). From these results we conclude that we have succeeded in the secretion of enzymatically active and therefore FAD cofactor-containing SoXy into the culture supernatant of C. glutamicum.Finally, we examined whether the secretion of SoXy had in fact occurred via the Tat pathway of C. glutamicum. Plasmid pTorA–SoXy was used to transform C. glutamcium ATCC13032 wild type and a C. glutamicum ΔTatAC mutant strain that lacks two essential components of the Tat transport machinery and therefore does not possess a functional Tat translocase (Meissner et al., 2007). The corresponding cells were grown in BHI medium (Difco) at 30°C in the presence of 1 mM IPTG for 6 h. Subsequently, the proteins present in the cellular and the supernatant fractions of the corresponding cells were analysed by SDS-PAGE followed by Western blotting using SoXy-specific antibodies. As shown in Fig. 3, polypeptides corresponding to the unprocessed TorA–SoXy precursor and some minor smaller degradation products of it can be detected in the cellular fractions of both the wild-type and the ΔTatAC deletion strains (lanes 3 and 5). In the supernatant fraction of the Tat⁺ wild-type strain (lane 4), but not that of the ΔTatAC strain (lane 6), a polypeptide corresponding to mature SoXy is present, clearly showing that export of SoXy in the wild-type strain had occurred in a strictly Tat-dependent manner. Another noteworthy finding is the observation that hardly any mature SoXy protein accumulated in the cellular fraction of the Tat⁺ wild-type strain (lane 3), indicating that SoXy is, after its Tat-dependent translocation across the cytoplasmic membrane and processing by signal peptidase, rapidly transported out of the intermembrane space across the mycolic acid-containing outer membrane into the supernatant. However, the mechanism of how proteins cross this additional permeability barrier is completely unknown so far (Bitter et al., 2009).Open in a separate windowFigure 3Transport of TorA–SoXy occurs in a strictly Tat-dependent manner. Plasmid pTorA–SoXy was transformed into C. glutamcium ATCC13032 (Tat⁺) and a C. glutamicum ΔTatAC mutant that lacks a functional Tat translocase (Meissner et al., 2007). As a control, the empty pEKEx2 expression vector was transformed into C. glutamicum ATCC13032 (Tat⁺). The respective strains were grown overnight in 5 ml of BHI medium (Difco) at 30°C. The cells were washed once with BHI and resuspended in 20 ml of fresh BHI medium containing 1 mM IPTG. After 6 h of further growth at 30°C, the cellular (C) and supernatant (S) fractions were prepared as described previously (Meissner et al., 2007). Samples of the C and S fractions were subjected to SDS-PAGE followed by immunoblotting using anti-SoXy antibodies as indicated at the top of the figure. Lanes 1 and 2: C. glutamicum ATCC13032 (pEKEx2); lanes 3 and 4: C. glutamicum ATCC13032 (pTorA–SoXy); lanes 5 and 6: C. glutamicum ΔTatAC (pTorA–SoXy). Asterisk: TorA–SoXy precursor; arrow: secreted SoXy protein. The positions of molecular mass markers (kDa) are indicated at the left margin of the figure.To the best of our knowledge, our results represent the first documented example of the successful secretion of a normally cytosolic, cofactor-containing protein via the Tat pathway in an active form into the culture supernatant of a recombinant expression host. Our results clearly show that, also for this biotechnologically very interesting class of proteins, a secretory production strategy can be a promising alternative to conventional intracellular expression strategies. Besides for SoXy and other FAD-containing carbohydrate oxidases, for which various applications are perceived by industry such as the in situ generation of hydrogen peroxide for bleaching and disinfection performance in technical applications, their use in the food and drink industry, as well as their use in diagnostic applications and carbohydrate biosynthesis processes (Oda and Hiraga, 1998; Murooka and Yamashita, 2001; van Hellemond et al., 2006; Heuts et al., 2007), a secretory production strategy might now be an attractive option also for biotechnologically relevant enzymes that are used as biocatalysts in chemo-enzymatic syntheses and that possess cofactors other than FAD, such as pyridoxal-5′-phosphate (PLP)-dependent ω-transaminases (Mathew and Yun, 2012) or various thiamin diphosphate (TDP)-dependent enzymes (Müller et al., 2009).