why diversity is important to me

   Diversity is the reason I pursued a career in science. And several events over the past few months have prompted me to think about diversity more than I usually do. The esteemed entomologist and science writer Edward O. Wilson published his 32^nd book “Half Earth: Our Planet’s Fight for Life”, asserting we dedicate one half of earth to maintain current biodiversity levels. A few weeks later, the US National Science Foundation announced a funding “hiatus” for natural history and living collections; the places where species diversity is stored, studied, and documented. But it’s not just biological diversity I have been thinking about. Diversity in general has been on the chopping block, even more so than usual. Generally speaking, diversity is valuable. Not just for ecosystems, but for our own society as well. A variety of perspectives, ideas, and experiences can generate more opportunity than uniform societies. From financial portfolios to biological systems, diversity improves buffering capacity and increases stability. Uniformity is vulnerable to even the smallest disturbance.

Figure 2 from Schilthuizen (2003). Figure caption: "Diversity of shell ornamentation in Bornean species of the subgenus Plectostoma of the genus Opisthostoma. Top row, from left to right: O. everettii, O. goniostoma, O. grandispinosum. Middle row, from left to right: O. hosei, O. mirabile, O. pulchellum. Bottom row, from left to right: O. lituus, O. shelfordi, O. stellasubis. All drawings by J.J. Vermeulen."

 

   Biodiversity refers to variation within species, among species, and among ecosystems. It was first put into print by E.O. Wilson in the late 1980s (with a likely influence from W.G. Rosen) and was a contraction of the words biological diversity, a phrase coined by Thomas Lovejoy in 1980. Both of these men have been instrumental to the study of biodiversity, and have made a large impact raising awareness of the risks associated with large-scale extinction. Both have been doing this work for most of their lives, E.O. Wilson is 86 and Thomas Lovejoy is 74. And, remarkably, based on recent published interviews, it is clear that both Lovejoy and Wilson remain refreshingly optimistic about our ability to protect and maintain biodiversity.

   In previous discussions outlining the role of taxonomy, we have touched on particular aspects of diversity science and its importance for describing and documenting new species. If I go out collecting, it is possible I will collect a beetle specimen that is new to science. In order to test this hypothesis, I need to compare my newly collected specimen to specimens maintained in collections and verify similarities and differences. Without such reference material it would be very difficult, if not impossible, to continue the process of documenting earth’s species. An essential task for many reasons, including the reasons I started this blog. There are of course many other important roles collections play, and I will refer you to one of many articles published in the media when funding agencies threaten to pull support.

   One of the reasons I pursued a graduate degree in entomology was to help study and document biodiversity. Some of the motivating factors behind this decision were books (some of which were written by E.O. Wilson), journal articles, and other literature that lamented how much more work there was to do. Sign me up, I thought, I wanted to contribute. What I didn’t realize at the time was how low of a priority it was to granting agencies and many institutions. And this reflects the priorities of our society. It is safe to say that studying diversity, taxonomy, and systematics is not a moneymaker, either for the individual doing it or for the institution they are working for. We can change that. I am imagining a society where collections are revered, put on pedestals, and the curators are rock stars. Why not? Let's carry the torch of optimism. Natural history collections started out as privately owned cabinets of curiosity (mostly by people wealthy enough to purchase and maintain the specimens) and proudly displayed to visitors. It was actually cool and distinguished to have a collection. While we have come a long way in prioritizing scientific study of collected specimens, dwindling public admiration for our collections is putting them at risk. 

 

A curiosity cabinet of corals that is referred to as an "An early eighteenth-century German Schrank with a traditional display of corals (Naturkundenmuseum Berlin)." But I am wondering if there was a translation issue and this was a cabinet from our friend Schrank. I will look into this and provide details in the upcoming Schrank update I am planning (Image credit)

   So let’s think about collections in a different way. Museum collections fall into the category of biological infrastructure. They are the foundation from which other types of science can progress. Infrastructure in general is not categorically sexy, and competitive funding environments like the one we are in right now tend not to favor investment. For example, collections are like transportation infrastructure. We rely on roads, bridges, and railways to travel and don’t realize how important continued investment is until something tragic happens. But investment in maintenance is boring; it does not result in anything new. It is not sexy. But it is necessary if we want to get from point A to B. The same is true for biological infrastructure; collections are an essential aspect of scientific study. It may not seem sexy but without it, the sexy science will eventually get held up by a collapsed bridge.

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