The Issues of Freedom and Happiness in Moral Bioenhancement: Continuing the Debate With a Reply to Harris Wiseman

During the previous years, Harris Wiseman has devoted substantial attention to my stance on voluntary moral bioenhancement. He argued that he has been influenced by that position, but nonetheless criticized it. I haven’t replied to his criticisms yet and wish to do so now. One of the reasons is to avoid my position being misrepresented. By replying to Wiseman’s criticisms, I also wish to clarify those issues in my standpoint that might have given rise to some of the misinterpretations. With the same purpose in mind, I will demarcate my concept of voluntary moral bioenhancement from related standpoints, in particular from Persson and Savulescu’s notion of compulsory moral bioenhancement that, as I argued, diminishes our freedom (of the will). Furthermore, I will consider the possibility of adding another essential element to my position—one that I have not discussed in my earlier publications. It is designed to propose a novel explanation of why humans would be motivated to opt for voluntary moral bioenhancement if its outcome is not a lowering of the likelihood of “Ultimate Harm” (as defined by Persson and Savulescu) or a milder form of self-destruction of humanity. This explanation will be based on the conception that an increase in happiness, rather than Ultimate Harm prevention, might be the grounding rationale for moral bioenhancement.     

Against Harmful Research on Non‐Agreeing Children

The Code of Federal Regulations permits harmful research on children who have not agreed to participate, but I will argue that it should be no more permissive of harmful research on such children than of harmful research on adults who have not agreed to participate. Of course, the Code permits harmful research on adults. Such research is not morally problematic, however, because adults must agree to participate. And, of course, the Code also permits beneficial research on children without needing their explicit agreement. This sort of research is also not problematic, this time because paternalism towards children may be justifiable. The moral problem at the center of this paper arises from the combination of two potential properties of pediatric research, first that it might be harmful and second that its subjects might not agree to participate. In Section 2 of this article I explain how the Code permits harmful research on non‐agreeing children. Section 3 contains my argument that we should no more permit harmful research on non‐agreeing children than on non‐agreeing adults. In Section 4, I argue that my thesis does not presuppose that pediatric assent has the same moral force that adult consent does. In Section 5, I argue that the distinction between non‐voluntary and involuntary research is irrelevant to my thesis. In Section 6, I rebut an objection based on the power of parental permission. In Section 7 I suggest how the Code of Federal Regulations might be changed.     

Wade in the Water: Personal Reflections on a Storm, a People, and a National Park

This article is a product of my associative thoughts on Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, my return to the city, and my position as park anthropologist at Jean Lafitte National Historical Park and Preserve, which includes the Chalmette Battlefield and National Cemetery. Fazendeville, or "the village" as it was known, was a historical African American community located on the site of the Battle of New Orleans, now Chalmette Battlefield, from 1867 to 1964. In 1999, the park undertook an oral history project on the community. As the anthropologist for the park, I wanted to reestablish contact with former residents or descendants who had been displaced as a result of the storms. It is my hope that the community's voices will not be lost in the floodwaters but will reemerge as determined and strong as they were once heard, singing "Wade in the Water" during the baptismal processions to the river.     

From Chloroplasts to Chaperones: How One Thing Led to Another

Two lessons I have learned during my research career are the importance of following up unexpected observations and realizing that the most obvious interpretation of such observations can be rational but wrong. When you carry out an experiment there is usually an expectation that the result will fall within a range of predictable outcomes, and it is natural to feel pleased when this turns out to be the case. In my view this response is a mistake. What you should be hoping for is a puzzling result that was not anticipated since with persistence and luck further experiments may uncover something new. In this article I give a personal account of how studies of the synthesis of proteins by isolated intact chloroplasts from pea leaves eventually led to the discovery of the chaperonins and the formulation of the general concept of the molecular chaperone function that is now seen to be a fundamental aspect of how all cells work.     

After 2 years of a pandemic,students are struggling to find strong reference letters

Writing and receiving reference letters in the time of COVID. Subject Categories: Careers

“People influence people. Nothing influences people more than a recommendation from a trusted friend. A trusted referral influences people more than the best broadcast message.” —Mark Zuckerberg.

I regularly teach undergraduate courses in genetics and genomics. Sure enough, at the end of each semester, after the final marks have been submitted, my inbox is bombarded with reference letter requests. “Dear Dr. Smith, I was a student in your Advanced Genetics course this past term and would be forever grateful if you would write me a reference for medical school…” I understand how hard it can be to find references, but I have a general rule that I will only write letters of support for individuals that I have interacted with face‐to‐face on at least a few occasions. This could include, for example, research volunteers in my laboratory, honors thesis students that I have supervised, and students who have gone out of their way to attend office hours and/or been regularly engaged in class discussions. I am selective about who I will write references for, not because I am unkind or lazy, but because I know from experience that a strong letter should include concrete examples of my professional interactions with the individual and should speak to their character and their academic abilities. In today''s highly competitive educational system, a letter that merely states that a student did well on the midterm and final exams will not suffice to get into medical or graduate school.However, over the past 2 years many, if not most, students have been attending university remotely with little opportunity to foster meaningful relationships with their instructors, peers, and mentors, especially for those in programs with large enrollments. Indeed, during the peak of Covid‐19, I stopped taking on undergraduate volunteers and greatly reduced the number of honors students in my laboratory. Similarly, my undergraduate lectures have been predominantly delivered online via Zoom, meaning I did not see or speak with most of the students in my courses. It did not help that nearly all of them kept their cameras and microphones turned off and rarely attended online office hours. Consequently, students are desperately struggling to identify individuals who can write them strong letters of reference. In fact, this past spring, I have had more requests for reference letters than ever before, and the same is true for many of my colleagues. Some of the emails I have received have been heartfelt and underscore how taxing the pandemic has been on young adults. With permission, I have included an excerpt from a message I received in early May:Hi Dr. Smith. You may not remember me, but I was in Genome Evolution this year. I enjoyed the class despite being absent for most of your live Zoom lectures because of the poor internet connection where I live. Believe it or not, my mark from your course was the highest of all my classes this term! Last summer, I moved back home to rural Northern Ontario to be closer to my family. My mom is a frontline worker and so I''ve been helping care for my elderly grandmother who has dementia as well as working part‐time as a tutor at the local high school to help pay tuition. All of this means that I''ve not paid as much attention to my studies as I should have. I''m hoping to go to graduate school this coming fall, but I have yet to find a professor who will write a reference for me. Would you please, please consider writing me a letter?I am sympathetic to the challenges students faced and continue to face during Covid‐19 and, therefore, I have gone out of my way to provide as many as I can with letters of support. But, it is no easy feat writing a good reference for someone you only know via an empty Zoom box and a few online assignments. My strategy has been to focus on their scholarly achievements in my courses, providing clear, tangible examples from examinations and essays, and to highlight the notable aspects of their CVs. I also make a point to stress how hard online learning can be for students (and instructors), reiterating some of the themes touched upon above. This may sound unethical to some readers but, in certain circumstances, I have allowed students to draft their own reference letters, which I can then vet, edit, and rewrite as I see fit.But it is not just undergraduates. After months and months of lockdowns and social distancing, many graduate students, postdocs, and professors are also struggling to find suitable references. In April, I submitted my application for promotion to Full Professor, which included the names of 20 potential reviewers. Normally, I would have selected at least some of these names from individuals I met at recent conferences and invited to university seminars, except I have not been to a conference in over 30 months. Moreover, all my recent invited talks have been on Zoom and did not include any one‐on‐one meetings with faculty or students. Thus, I had to include the names of scientists that I met over 3 years ago, hoping that my research made a lasting impression on them. I have heard similar anecdotes from many of my peers both at home and at other universities. Given all of this, I would encourage academics to be more forthcoming than they may have traditionally been when students or colleagues approach them for letters of support. Moreover, I think we could all be a little more forgiving and understanding when assessing our students and peers, be it for admissions into graduate school, promotion, or grant evaluations.Although it seems like life on university campuses is returning to a certain degree of normality, many scholars are still learning and working remotely, and who knows what the future may hold with regard to lockdowns. With this uncertainty, we need to do all we can to engage with and have constructive and enduring relationships with our university communities. For undergraduate and graduate students, this could mean regularly attending online office hours, even if it is only to introduce yourself, as well as actively participating in class discussions, whether they are in‐person, over Zoom, or on digital message boards. Also, do not disregard the potential and possibilities of remote volunteer research positions, especially those related to bioinformatics. Nearly, every laboratory in my department has some aspect of their research that can be carried out from a laptop computer with an Internet connection. Although not necessarily as enticing as working at the bench or in the field, computer‐based projects can be rewarding and an excellent path to a reference letter.If you are actively soliciting references, try and make it as easy as possible on your potential letter writers. Clearly and succinctly outline why you want this person to be a reference, what the letter writing/application process entails, and the deadline. Think months ahead, giving your references ample time to complete the letter, and do not be shy about sending gentle reminders. It is great to attach a CV, but also briefly highlight your most significant achievements in bullet points in your email (e.g., Dean''s Honours List 2021–22). This will save time for your references as they will not have to sift through many pages of a CV. No matter the eventual result of the application or award, be sure to follow up with your letter writers. There is nothing worse than spending time crafting a quality support letter and never learning the ultimate outcome of that effort. And, do not be embarrassed if you are unsuccessful and need to reach out again for another round of references—as Winston Churchill said, “Success is stumbling from failure to failure with no loss of enthusiasm.”     

A case for more curiosity-driven basic research

Having been selected to be among the exquisitely talented scientists who won the Sandra K. Masur Senior Leadership Award is a tremendous honor. I would like to take this opportunity to make the case for a conviction of mine that I think many will consider outdated. I am convinced that we need more curiosity-driven basic research aimed at understanding the principles governing life. The reasons are simple: 1) we need to learn more about the world around us; and 2) a robust and diverse basic research enterprise will bring ideas and approaches essential for developing new medicines and improving the lives of humankind.When I was a graduate student, curiosity-driven basic research ruled. Studying mating-type switching in budding yeast, for example, was exciting because it was an interesting problem: How can you make two different cells from a single cell in the absence of any external cues? We did not have to justify why it is important to study what many would now consider a baroque question. Scientists and funding agencies alike agreed that this was an exciting biological problem that needed to be solved. I am certain that all scientists of my generation can come up with similar examples.Open in a separate windowAngelika AmonSince the time I was a graduate student, the field of biological research has experienced a revolution. We can now determine the genetic makeup of every species in a week or so and have an unprecedented ability to manipulate any genome. This revolution has led to a sense that we understand the principles governing life and that it is now time to apply this knowledge to cure diseases and make the world a better place. While applying knowledge to improve lives and treat diseases is certainly a worthwhile endeavor, it is important to realize that we are far from having a mechanistic understanding of even the basic principles of biology. What the genomic revolution brought us are lists, some better than others. We now know how many coding genes define a given species and how many protein kinases, GTPases, and so forth there are in the various genomes we sequenced. This knowledge, however, does not even scratch the surface of understanding their function. When I browse the Saccharomyces cerevisiae genome database (my second-favorite website), I am still amazed how many genes there are that have not even been given a name.To me the most important achievement the new genome-sequencing and genome-editing technologies brought us is that nearly every organism can be a model organism now. We can study and manipulate the processes that most fascinate us in the organisms in which they occur, with the exception, of course, of humans. Thus, I believe that the golden era of basic biological research is not behind us but in front of us, and we need more people who will take advantage of the tools that have been developed in the past three decades. I am therefore hoping that many young people will chose a career in basic research and find an exciting question to study. The more of us there are, the more knowledge we will acquire, and the higher the likelihood we will discover something amazing and important. There is so much interesting biology out there that we should strive to understand. Some of my favorite unanswered questions are: What are the biological principles underlying symbiosis and how did it evolve? Why is sleep essential? Why do plants, despite an enormous regenerative potential, never die of cancer? Why do brown bears, despite inactivity, obesity, and high levels of cholesterol, exhibit no signs of atherosclerosis? How do sharks continuously produce teeth?One could, of course, argue that the knowledge we have accumulated over the past 50 years provides a reasonable framework, and it is now time to leave basic science and model organisms behind and focus on what matters—curing diseases, developing methods to produce energy, cleaning up the oceans, preventing global warming, building biological computers, designing organisms, or engineering whatever the current buzz is about. Like David Botstein, who eloquently discussed the importance of basic research in these pages in 2012 (Botstein, 2012 ), I believe that the notion that we already know enough is wrong and the current application-centric view of biology is misguided. Experience has taught us over and over that we cannot predict where the next important breakthrough will be emerge. Many of the discoveries that we consider groundbreaking and that have brought us new medicines or improved our lives in other ways are the result of curiosity-driven basic research. My favorite example is the discovery of penicillin. Alexander Fleming, through the careful study of his (contaminated) bacterial plates, enabled humankind to escape natural selection. More recent success stories such as new cures for hepatitis C, the human papillomavirus vaccine, the HIV-containment regimens, or treatments for BCR-ABL induced chronic myelogenous leukemia have also only been possible because of decades of basic research in model organisms that taught us the principles of life and enabled us to acquire the methodologies critical to develop these treatments. Although work from my own lab on the causes and consequences of chromosome mis-segregation in budding yeast has not led to the development of new treatments, it has taught us a lot about how an imbalanced karyotype, a hallmark of cancer, affects the physiology of cancer cells and creates vulnerabilities in cancer cells that could represent new therapeutic targets.These are but a few examples for why it is important that we scientists must dedicate ourselves to the pursuit of basic knowledge and why we as a society must make funding basic research a priority. Achieving the latter requires that we scientists tell the public about the importance of what we are doing and explain the potential implications of basic research for human health. At the same time, it will be important to manage expectations. We must explain that not every research project will lead to the development of new medicines and that we cannot predict where the next big breakthroughs will materialize. We must further make it clear that this means we have to fund a broad range of basic research at a healthy level. Perhaps a website that collects examples of how basic research has led to breakthroughs in medicine could serve as a showcase for such success stories, bringing the importance of what we do to the public.While conducting research to improve the lives of others is certainly a worthy motivation, it is not the main reason why I get up very early every morning to go to the lab. To me, gaining an understanding of a basic principle in the purest Faustian terms is what I find most rewarding and exciting. Designing and conducting experiments, pondering the results, and developing hypotheses as to how something may work is most exciting, the idea that I, or nowadays the people in my lab, may be (hopefully) the first to discover a new aspect of biology is the best feeling. It is these rare eureka moments, when you first realize how a process works or when you discover something that opens up a new research direction, that make up for all the woes and frustrations that come with being an experimental scientist in an expensive discipline.For me, having a career in curiosity-driven basic research has been immensely rewarding. It is my hope that basic research remains one of the pillars of the American scientific enterprise, attracting the brightest young minds for generations to come. We as a community can help to make this a reality by telling people what we do and highlighting the importance of our work to their lives.     

Unconventional bed mates: Gaia and the selfish gene

In this forum, David M. Wilkinson argued that Gaia-type phenomena can be explained by conventional ecological ideas meaning that such phenomena do not require major changes to existing ecological or evolutionary theory. Overstating my case a little, I will argue that a reconciliation between Gaia and Darwinism will not be conventional in the sense of mainstream ecology. The main addition of this essay is an exploration in how far the claim that the atmosphere is an extension of life on Earth is logically correct. In a thought experiment, the idea of extended phenotypes by Richard Dawkins can be integrated with the one of Gaia. The problem of cheats remains pertinent, however, because the atmosphere will not select differentially between cheats and non-cheats. Conclusion: Gaia-type phenomena will be by-products of naturally selected traits. As such they are not jeopardised by cheats, because side effects can be free to self-organise, while the main effects will be naturally selected for evolutionarily stable states. Understanding the laws of self-organisation of such side effects will be of major importance to all environmental sciences.     

Academic motherhood – what happens when you can't make it happen?

We need more openness about age‐related infertility as it is a particular risk for many female scientists in academia who feel that they have to delay having children. Subject Categories: S&S: Careers & Training, Genetics, Gene Therapy & Genetic Disease

Balancing motherhood and a career in academic research is a formidable challenge, and there is substantial literature available on the many difficulties that scientists and mothers face (Kamerlin, 2016). Unsurprisingly, these challenges are very off‐putting for many female scientists, causing us to keep delaying motherhood while pursuing our hypercompetitive academic careers with arguments “I’ll wait until I have a faculty position”, “I’ll wait until I have tenure”, and “I’ll wait until I’m a full professor”. The problem is that we frequently end up postponing getting children based on this logic until the choice is no longer ours: Fertility unfortunately does decline rapidly over the age of 35, notwithstanding other potential causes of infertility.This column is therefore not about the challenges of motherhood itself, but rather another situation frequently faced by women in academia, and one that is still not discussed openly: What if you want to have children and cannot, either because biology is not on your side, or because you waited too long, or both? My inspiration for writing this article is a combination of my own experiences battling infertility in my path to motherhood, and an excellent piece by Dr. Arghavan Salles for Time Magazine, outlining the difficulties she faced having spent her most fertile years training to be a surgeon, just to find out that it might be too late for motherhood when she came out the other side of her training (Salles, 2019). Unfortunately, as academic work models remain unsupportive of parenthood, despite significant improvements, this is not a problem faced only by physicians, but also one faced by both myself and many other women I have spoken to.I want to start by sharing my own story, because it is a bit more unusual. I have a very rare (~ 1 in 125,000 in women (Laitinen et al, 2011)) congenital endocrine disorder, Kallmann syndrome (KS) (Boehm et al, 2015); as a result, my body is unable to produce its own sex hormones and I don’t have a natural cycle. It doesn’t take much background in science to realize that this has a major negative impact on my fertility—individuals with KS can typically only conceive with the help of fertility treatment. It took me a long time to get a correct diagnosis, but even before that, in my twenties, I was being told that it is extremely unlikely I will ever have biological children. I didn’t realize back then that KS in women is a very treatable form of infertility, and that fertility treatments are progressing forward in leaps and bounds. As I was also adamant that I didn’t even want to be a mother but rather focus on my career, this was not something that caused me too much consternation at the time.In parallel, like Dr. Salles, I spent my most fertile years chasing the academic career path and kept finding—in my mind—good reasons to postpone even trying for a child. There is really never a good time to have a baby in academia (I tell any of my junior colleagues who ask to not plan their families around “if only X…” because there will always be a new X). Like many, I naïvely believed that in vitro fertilization (IVF) would be the magic bullet that can solve all my fertility problems. I accordingly thought it safe to pursue first a faculty position, then tenure, then a full professorship, as I will have to have fertility treatment anyhow. In my late twenties, my doctors suggested that I consider fertility preservation, for example, through egg freezing. At the time, however, the technology was both extravagantly expensive and unreliable and I brushed it off as unnecessary: when the time comes, I would just do IVF. In reality, the IVF success rates for women in their mid‐to‐late 30s are typically only ~ 40% per egg retrieval, and this only gets worse with age, something many women are not aware of when planning parenthood and careers. It is also an extremely strenuous process both physically and emotionally, as one is exposed to massive doses of hormones, multiple daily injections, tremendous financial cost, and general worries about whether it will work or not.Then reality hit. What I believed would be an easy journey turned out to be extremely challenging, and took almost three years, seven rounds of treatment, and two late pregnancy losses. While the driving factor for my infertility remained my endocrine disorder, my age played an increasing role in problems responding to treatment, and it was very nearly too late for me, despite being younger than 40. Despite these challenges, we are among the lucky ones and there are many others who are not.I am generally a very open person, and as I started the IVF process, I talked freely about this with female colleagues. Because I was open about my own predicament, colleagues from across the world, who had never mentioned it to me before, opened up and told me their own children were conceived through IVF. However, many colleagues also shared stories of trying, and how they are for various—not infrequently age‐related—reasons unable to have children, even after fertility treatment. These experiences are so common in academia, much more than you could ever imagine, but because of the societal taboos that still surround infertility and pregnancy and infant loss, they are not discussed openly. This means that many academic women are unprepared for the challenges surrounding infertility, particularly with advanced age. In addition, the silence surrounding this issue means that women lose out on what would have otherwise been a natural support network when facing a challenging situation, which can make you feel tremendously alone.There is no right or wrong in family planning decisions, and having children young, delaying having children or deciding to not have children at all are all equally valid choices. However, we do need more openness about the challenges of infertility, and we need to bring this discussion out of the shadows. My goal with this essay is to contribute to breaking the silence, so that academics of both genders can make informed choices, whether about the timing of when to build a family or about exploring fertility preservation—which in itself is not a guaranteed insurance policy—as relevant to their personal choices. Ultimately, we need an academic system that is supportive of all forms of family choices, and one that creates an environment compatible with parenthood so that so many academics do not feel pressured to delay parenthood until it might be too late.     

Purinergic Receptors,Past and Future (Closing Remarks)

Abstract

At the end of a symposium, it is useful to look back, both at the symposium itself and the developments that led up to the symposium. In this spirit, I thought it would be appropriate to tell the story of how I first became interested in purinergic receptors. I am recounting this story not because I believe that my audience has a burning interest in the history of my intellectual development, but rather because it illustrates the power of ideas.     

The Goldwyn diary of November and December 1960, at the Albert Schweitzer Hospital, Lambaréné, Gabon

Through unexpected circumstances, I went to Lambaréné, in Gabon, to be Dr. Albert Schweitzer's surgeon for 2 months, November and December of 1960.This diary I can honestly say I never thought would become public. The years have passed; I am now 77. I realize that not many of those who served in a medical capacity at his hospital are still alive and not everyone will share his or her experiences.I want to make clear that I was with Dr. Schweitzer only 2 months. I would not want anyone to think that I played a strategic role at the hospital. I did not, but I helped as best I could.Although I have traveled throughout the world and have been a surgeon in many out-of-the-way places, I have not returned to Lambaréné. The reason, I confess, is that I wanted it to remain in my mind as it was. For Dr. Schweitzer and those who served there, his hospital was a way of life. It was a world of its own and, though small, it came into being because of the arching ideals and unflagging dedication of a remarkable man. His example should inspire us to enlarge our personal horizons, not just to recognize the less fortunate but to act without delay on their behalf. For each of us, there is an Ogowe waiting to be crossed.     

In search of evolutionary developmental mechanisms: the 30-year gap between 1944 and 1974

The approach I have elected in this retrospective of how I became a student of evo-devo is both biographical and historical, a case study along the lines of Waddington's The Evolution of an Evolutionist ('75), although in my case it is the Evolution of an Evo-devoist. What were the major events that brought me to developmental biology and from there to evo-devo? They were, of course, specific to my generation, to the state of knowledge at the time, and to my own particular circumstances. Although exposed to evolution and embryology as an undergraduate in the 1960s, my PhD and post-PhD research programme lay within developmental biology until the early 1970s. An important formative influence on my studies as an undergraduate was the work of Conrad Hal Waddington (1905-1975), whose writings made me aware of genetic assimilation and gave me an epigenetic approach to my developmental studies. The switch to evo-devo (and my discovery of the existence of the neural crest), I owe to an ASZ (now SICB) symposium held in 1973.     

Personal recollections

I hope that this article will provide a short review of my involvement with physical and biological aspects of 'excluded volume' or 'molecular crowding'. The list of references is not exhaustive, but is meant primarily to acknowledge my debt to my many colleagues.     

Within a Range of Possibilities: Morality and Ethics in Social Life

Despite its now common currency the anthropological concept of morality remains underdeveloped. One anthropologist who has made several important attempts to work out a more precise theoretical concept of morality is Joel Robbins. In his most recent contribution to this endeavor Robbins addresses the tension in anthropology between what he calls the morality of reproduction and the morality of freedom. In this article, I suggest an alternative solution to the problem of conceiving the distinction between a nonconsciously enacted morality and the conscious awareness of ethical dilemmas and moral questioning. I will support this distinction with ethnographic and life-historical material from my research on the moral lives of some Muscovites.     

Experiments in a Monastery Garden

SYNOPSIS. After a brief account of my early education, studyat the University of Wien, and preliminary experiments on hybridizationconducted at the Augustinian Monastery in Brünn, Austria,I state the reasons for selecting certain features of the ediblepea, Pisum sativum, for extensive investigation of their inheritance.After eight years I reported my results to the Brünn Societyfor the Study of Natural Science, and they were published inthe following year (1866) in the Proceedings of the Society.I discovered two basic principles of inheritance: the law ofsegregation and the law of independent assortment of hypotheticalunits of heredity that I called Elemente. I conclude with someremarks on the possible relation of my work to the evolutionof organic form and on my disappointment that my studies donot seem to be known or understood, and that because of my administrativeduties at themonastery, now being the Abbot, I have no timefor further investigations.     

A Tale of Mother and Daughter

Loving science and nature and being a scientist can be very different, yet the two are so intertwined in a scientist''s life that you will certainly experience both aspects. This essay presents my perspective on how, as one who loves science and nature, I came to fall in love with centrosome behavior in stem cells and how I came to run a lab as a scientist. When I started, there was a big gap between my love for science and my experience as a scientist. I filled this gap by learning a “laid-back confidence.”Before the beauty of cell biology (or whatever you love), who you are (i.e., your age, gender, or race) is immaterial. Yet history shows that the ease with which you can pursue science is influenced by who you are. This has certainly been my experience. The key is to find a way to fill in the gap between who you are and what you are (i.e., a scientist), a goal in which we must all support each other. It is my hope that this essay will convey something helpful to those who are at early stages of their career and might be encountering obstacles because of who they are.     

You are the most valuable reagent in the lab: mental health before and during the pandemic

No one maps out their tenure as a postdoc anticipating a life-altering tragedy. But mental health crises of all kinds affect academic trainees and staff at similar or higher levels than the general public. While the mental health resources available to trainees are often set by healthcare providers, all levels of university leadership can work to remove material and immaterial obstacles that render such resources out of reach. I describe how access to care via telemedicine helped me following a loss in my family.

Over the years, my siblings and close friends have sought mental health resources like therapy, psychoanalysis, or psychiatry, so I loosely understood their benefits. When I was a PhD student I went to therapy briefly, but my counselor and I decided I could do without it. Since I started my postdoc, stress manifested in some new ways but I managed it well with my usual coping strategies and support. That changed one bright December morning in 2019 while I was preparing for our weekly lab meeting. My phone rang indicating a call from my father, whom I had spoken to the night before to celebrate the news of my nephew’s birth. But the voice on the phone was that of a family friend, telling me that my father had died overnight of an undiagnosed heart condition. In the moment I couldn’t even understand what was happening, saying over and over, “but I talked to him last night.” Soon I was sitting at home, dazed, on a string of tearful calls with family and friends.I often read words like “lifted” or “buoyed” to describe the stabilizing support of a network of loved ones. In my case this network was tethering me to reality over the next few weeks, preventing me from spinning off the Earth’s surface in a storm of sorrow and anxiety. The trauma also took a strange physical form and convinced me that I was suffering from a cardiac condition of my own. I had a panic attack during which I went to urgent care convinced my own heart was about to give way. Night after night these physical symptoms prevented me from sleeping.Graced by many loving connections with my siblings, my boyfriend, and close friends, I was actually weathering the process as well as one can. My PI gave me a firm directive to take as much time off as I needed. These were two key elements early in my healing process: a supportive network and an understanding advisor. The third was getting professional help, which I soon realized I needed. Even if I felt OK one day, I didn’t trust that I’d be OK the next. My grief formed too thick and too broad a landscape for me to navigate without help.Deciding to seek mental health resources and realizing that one needs them are often the hardest parts. Connecting with those resources once the decision has been made should be as simple as possible. I called a mental health number, and a triage counselor noted my therapy needs and verified my insurance. She asked what times and locations I preferred and then searched for an open appointment with a therapist who accepted my insurance. She also informed me that my coverage allowed 12 sessions with no copay, which was a pleasant surprise. The therapist who agreed to see me had very few openings, in part because this all happened in December—the holidays are especially busy for therapists. I was aiming for a time after normal working hours, or in the morning before I would head to lab, but none of those times were available. I didn’t like interrupting my workday to trot off to therapy. Taking a long break once a week meant I couldn’t run experiments or mentor my student during that time. But I made the sacrifice because my highest priority was getting the help I needed. There was no shortcut. Prioritizing mental health over lab work is tough for researchers, and I would never have accepted that kind of weekly disruption before my dad’s passing. But as a wonderful mentor of mine used to say, “You are the most valuable reagent in the lab.” She wasn’t describing mental health at the time, but the phrase now provided a guiding principle for my recovery. My first few sessions were on Tuesdays at 2:00 pm.The afternoon break turned out to be less disruptive than I had feared, because I had recently come back to the lab and was working short days. Had she asked, I would have told my PI where I was on Tuesday afternoons, but she wasn’t normally abreast of my daily schedule, so I didn’t seek her approval beforehand. Coordinating experiments with lab members thankfully wasn’t an issue because my work was largely independent; I simply let lab members know that I’d would be out of the lab for a bit on those days.The weeks went by, and the benefits of therapy accrued, helping me in large and small ways as I grieved. In mid-March of 2020, my therapist followed public health guidelines and asked all her clients to transition to remote sessions. While this was easy and sensible, it was still a little disappointing. Therapists are professional empaths, among many other things, and doing away with the physical presence and exchange with her was a blow. Yet therapy via video felt less odd simply because most of my social interactions were now virtual. Thankfully I didn’t have to move out of state for the lockdown (as did many students living in campus housing), which meant I could stay with the same therapist without any insurance complications.A few weeks into lockdown, I asked my therapist whether we had reached the limit of my 12 sessions without a copay. She replied with the good news that my insurance provider had waived all copays for mental health costs due to the pandemic. By that time therapy had generated a platform and an outlet to explore areas of my grief beyond the trauma of my father’s passing. Without needing to weigh the costs and benefits of this resource, I saw my therapist for another 4 months. I slowly took stock of my upbringing in an unconventional family and the loss of my mother when I was 25 and waded through a series of difficult decisions regarding my father’s estate. My father’s death changed me at a depth that is untouched by any amount of therapy or treatment. I’m not “healed”: I feel aged, more brittle, and a little ground down compared with who I had been. But therapy guided me through the worst of my grief, past the acute trauma to help me grasp what I was going through.Since the pandemic began, the number of people reporting increased stress or mental health issues has steadily increased (information on the impact of COVID-19 measures on mental health: https://www.apa.org/workforce/publications/depression-anxiety-coronavirus.pdf) (also see Mental health resources for trainees). I am fortunate to have affordable health insurance and the support from my lab and my department. The ease of finding my institution’s phone number for mental health resources was itself an important benefit. I share these pieces of my story with humility and understanding that not everyone enjoys the privileges that I do and the knowledge that everyone weathers life’s tragedies in their own way. It is not lost on me that some benefits stemmed from a policy change made by a private insurance provider. The provider made the right decision to waive copays, freeing me from having to choose between cost and my mental health needs. Yet had I been a student who had to move out of state due to COVID-19, access to mental health resources might have been disrupted or cut off. The need for reduced out-of-pocket costs for healthcare is known and needs no repetition, but the benefits of telehealth should be a low-cost component of health plans offered to students and staff (information on telehealth recommendations: https://www.apaservices.org/advocacy/news/congress-patient-telehealth?_ga=2.231013471.1538013741.1619359426-1228006513.1619359425 and http://www.apaservices.org/practice/advocacy/state/leadership/telebehavioral-health-policies.pdf?_ga=2.3385904.1067518037.1620039082-1228006513.1619359425.I’m not a cloud of emotions attached to a pair of good pipetting hands, I’m a human who is choosing to spend my time doing research. This observation is easy to repeat, by trainees as much as by faculty and administrators, but much harder to act upon in the midst of conflicting priorities. Consider my story a success: Because I could access the resources I needed, I was able to prioritize my mental health in the midst of my ambitious research program even during the lockdown.MEET THE AUTHORI have been a postdoc in Stefani Spranger’s lab at MIT for 4 years. Supported by an Irvington Fellowship from the Cancer Research Institute, my work examines the behaviors of dendritic cells in tumors that contribute to productive or unproductive anti-tumor immune responses. My doctoral work examined modes of multicellular invasion controlled by the actin cytoskeleton with Margaret Gardel at the University of Chicago. Earlier I was a lab technician with Thea Tlsty at the University of California, San Francisco, which followed a bachelor’s degree in biology at the University of California, Santa Cruz. I serve on the Committee for Students and Postdocs at the American Society for Cell Biology, where I chair the Outreach Subcommittee.     

Quantifying your body: A how-to guide from a systems biology perspective

During the coming decade we will see an accelerated digital transformation of healthcare. Leading this change within the institutional medical community are both the move to digital medical records and the use of digital biomedical measurement devices. In addition to this institutional evolution, there is a non-institutional, bottom-up, unorganized, highly idiosyncratic movement by early adopters to "quantify" their own bodies. In this article, I share my decade-long personal experience of tracking many blood and stool biomarkers, which provide insight into the health or disease of major subsystems of my body. These results are interpreted in the context of the genetics of my human DNA and that of the microbes in my gut. Even though I am a computer scientist and not a medical professional, by using commercially available tests and a systems biology integrative approach, I have become an early example of Leroy Hood's vision of the emergence of predictive, preventive, personalized, and participatory (P4) medicine. It is an individual's story illustrating how each of us can contribute to realizing this paradigm shift.     

Teaming up: from motors to people

When I reflect on how I became a cell biologist and why I love being one today, one thing that comes to mind is the many terrific collaborations I have had. The science I am most proud of from my graduate and postdoctoral training would not have been possible without working in teams with other scientists. Now, in my own group, much of our best work is being done collaboratively, both within the lab and with other labs. In this essay, I will highlight my experiences working in teams as a trainee, the role teamwork has played in my own research group, and how important I think collaborative science is for the future of biological research.     

The coevolution of warning signals

It has long been recognized that defended prey tend to be conspicuous. Current theories suggest that the association ('aposematism') has arisen because predators more readily learn to avoid attacking defended phenotypes when they are conspicuous. In this paper, I consider why such psychology has evolved. In particular, I argue that aposematism may have evolved not because of an independent and pre-existing receiver bias, but because the conspicuousness of a prey item provides a reliable indicator of its likelihood of being defended. To develop my case I consider how warning signals might coevolve in a system containing a number of predators, whose foraging behaviour is also subject to selection. In these cases, models readily show that the greater the conspicuousness of a novel prey item, the more likely that it has been encountered by other predators and survived. As a consequence, naive predators should be less likely to attack highly conspicuous novel prey on encounter, or at least more inclined to attack them cautiously. This adaptive predator behaviour will greatly facilitate the spread of aposematic phenotypes from extreme rarity, which in turn will enhance selection for forms of predator behaviour under which aposematism will coevolve even more readily.