Can I quote a quote? I did, and hopefully I
provided enough citations to make it legit. I know it is not wise to try and
out-zimmer Carl Zimmer but there is so much to write about here I am going for it. This quote encompasses the mission of this blog
(**although - see my commentary below) and is a great example of the
return on our investment in curiosity. In this case, the return is slowing
down the spread of Zika and other diseases transmitted by insects using Wolbachia, an insect bacterial parasite.
The reason we know about Wolbachia,
and its potential to reduce the spread of viruses like Zika, is because of
public and institutional support for unbridled curiosity. The Wolbachia-Zika story is part of a
decades long history of research on Wolbachia
that goes back to 1924.
 |
| Image credit: Seth Bordenstein (from EOL). Image description: Insect testes showing sperm DNA (red) and Wolbachia endoysymbionts (green). |
If we start from the beginning, however, I
think we will need to break this up into multiple posts, which is okay. There
is plenty here to keep us all fascinated. Today we will start with Simeon Burt
Wolbach, after whom Wolbachia was
named, and based on what I have seen so far he is deserving of his own post. Here is an excerpt from a tribute published in the Harvard Medical School Alumni Bulletin:
“S. Burt Wolbach,
one of Harvard Medical School's most beloved as well as one of its most
distinguished professors, died on March 19, 1954, in his seventy-fourth year,
after a relatively brief illness, of cancer of the prostate. In the minds of many,
both his scientific achievements and his personality present a perfect synthesis
of the best in the past and in the present. Sound training in morphology,
guided by imaginative insight, made it possible for him to place new and
fruitful interpretations upon cellular structural mechanisms. In his
personality too, one was aware of that blend of conventional and liberal
attitudes, an appreciation of the traditions of the past and the freedoms of
the present. Thus his stature, [equaled] by few, resulted from that rare integration
of the austerity and vision of the scientist with the humanity and warmth of
the guide and teacher. His name will be remembered with a lift of the heart and
a quickening of the imagination by student, colleague and friend.” (Dr.
Charlotte L. Maddock and Dr. Arthur T. Hertig (1954) Harvard Medical School Alumni Bulletin 28: 41-45).
 |
| Figure 1 from Hubbard (1987). Figure caption: "S. Burt Wolbach, circa 1938. Etching, 300 x 251 mm, by Arthur Heintzelman (1891-1965)." |
Simeon B. Wolbach was a polymath (much like my beloved Schrank)
growing up riding horses on the plains of Nebraska “…ranging free with the
cowboys…..” in the late 1800s, and graduating cum laude from Harvard Medical
School in 1903. Wolbach subsequently held a variety of esteemed posts at
various institutions on the east coast where he pursued research in two fields
of study, infectious disease and vitamin deficiency. The diseases he worked on
included both viral
(i.e influenza and Rocky Mountain spotted fever) and bacterial (tuberculosis, leprosy, syphilis, and typhus) pathogens. In
fact, it was his work on typhus that led to the discovery of Wolbachia. While Wolbach’s work on
disease transmission is the most relevant to this blog post, some think “[h]is most
brilliant work was done on those disorders associated with vitamin deficiency
and excess.” Among other distinctions, the quality and breadth of Wolbach’s
research granted him induction to the National Academy of Sciences in 1938.
The language used to describe Wolbach’s
character is cryptic and intriguing. It outlines a person of genuine character
that embodied both seriousness and a sound sense of humor. His lecture style was
described as non-didactic, but his students clearly revered him as was demonstrated
by two separate instances where they paid him tribute by coming to lecture with
a red carnation in their lapel, something Wolbach did on a regular basis. While
perhaps a tough nut to crack, it seems that upon cracking a plethora of
goodness was exposed. He remained an avid outdoors-man through his academic
pursuits and continued riding horses throughout his life. “It was there, along the
banks of the Jeannotte River and Lac Castor, that his friends knew him best.
There he became a boy again and would engage in an impromptu canoe race, or
chase a moose in the lake until he could smack its rump with a paddle.” (All quotes from the previous two paragraphs are from the Maddock and Hertig tribute referenced above.)
I could go on, and am surprised a
more detailed biography of Wolbach has not been published. When I started
looking for one I actually found that in addition to all of the accomplishments
listed in the Harvard Medical School tribute, Wolbach appears to have written a biography of Hans Zissner, a
physician, bacteriologist, and author of Rats, Lice, and History.
!!. The more I find the more I am intrigued by these scientists, what amazing
stories. I literally have about 20 tabs open in my web browser right now.
I found an example of Wolbach’s non-didactic
delivery method, combined with the foresight of a complex mind, in this passage
from “The Glorious Past, the Doleful Present, and the Uncertain Future of
Pathology”, a presentation he gave on Harvard Alumni Day in 1952 (his last
public presentation) that was subsequently published in the Harvard Medical School Alumni Bulletin 28: 41-45:
“What do I mean by
the Science of Pathology? Years ago, challenged by Theobald Smith, I defined
Pathology as that branch of Biology which investigates the reactions of living
things — unicellular to man — to injurious agents. Deleterious environments of
all sorts are productive of pathological states and a super Darwin become
pathologist would, I believe, have a grand time in attacking problems of phylogenesis
from the viewpoint of a pathologist. The scientific use of the imagination is
legitimate and I get satisfaction in believing that the adaptation of marine creatures
to terrestrial conditions was the result of eons of responses in myriads of survivors
of non-lethal injuries.”
I will give you,
and myself, some time to ponder this and we will pick-up here next time.
PS **My issue with this quote, and
this is my opinion only, is that the tone highlights an ongoing
problem we all have of downplaying the importance of exploratory research. I do
not know Dr. O'Neill and I want to make it clear that I am not slighting him; he and his colleagues
have done amazing work, which we will look at next time. In all honesty, I think
the quote reflects Dr. O'Neill’s humility while talking about his own research. But
I am going to go all Sheryl Sandburg on this right now. I think we need to lean in to the immense impact of exploratory research. I think scientists, myself
included, need to be careful about downplaying the importance of exploratory
research. When I first read Dr. O'Neill’s quote I thought, bingo, perfect for
the blog, and retweeted it. It wasn’t until I was typing it out for this post
that I picked up on the tone, and thought about how much language
can impact public perception. If we want curiosity driven research to be
understood and funded by the public we need to be proud and put it on the
pedestal it deserves. The same is true when we talk about taxonomy and natural
history museums, which I have written about before. If we want our taxonomists to be rock stars and our museum collections respected, we cannot refer to them
as a bunch of dead insects. Which happens, from places we should least expect
it.
 |
| Again, I don't mean to diss
anyone here, just highlighting the need to be more aware (and UConn got $500k, not $500). |
