The Joys of Bottled Borscht in Space

Across different times, cultures, and places, food has always been a unifier. This is especially salient in space, where the tough environment and complete detachment from Earth makes a good meal both comforting and psychologically affirming.

Some endearing examples: pictured below are American astronauts holding what appear to be tubes of Russian vodka given to them by Russian cosmonauts in a gesture of goodwill. This followed the famous “handshake in space” of 1975, when the two political and scientific rivals docked one another’s flagship space vessels in an unlikely display of cooperation and mutual respect (notwithstanding continued rivalry in and out space). The “vodka” was actually Russian borscht, a sour but hearty beet soup.

Supercluster

Flashforward to this photo of a typical dinner night aboard the International Space Station, which by some measures is the largest and most expensive scientific project in history. Not much has changed otherwise.

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Once again, the U.S. and Russia have come together in space exploration, despite their very real political differences, this time joined by Japan, Canada, and over eleven European nations. This makes the creature comforts of space all the more enjoyable, as Smithsonian Magazine notes:

One big perk of international cooperation on the station is the advancement of the space food frontier. Astronauts and cosmonauts regularly gather on both sides of the station to share meals and barter food items. Roscosmos’ contribution to the food rations is the unique assortment of canned delicacies from traditional Russian cuisine. Perlovka (pearl barley porridge) and tushonka (meat stew), dishes familiar to the Russian military veterans since World War II, found new popularity among the residents of the station. Cosmonaut Aleksandr Samokutyaev says his American counterparts were big fans of Russian cottage cheese.

The cosmonauts, meanwhile, have few complaints about sharing meals with a country that flies up real frozen ice cream (not the freeze-dried stuff made for gift shops), as the U.S. did in 2012. Ryazansky has also spoken fondly of the great variety of American pastries. “We should say,” he clarified, “our food is better than the Americans’…. Despite the variety, everything is already spiced. But in ours, if you wish you can make it spicy; if you want, you can make it sour. American rations have great desserts and veggies; however, they lack fish. Our Russian food has great fish dishes.” The cosmonauts’ cuisine benefits when European and Japanese crew arrive. Both agencies brought unique flavors from their culinary heritages—including the one thing the cosmonauts really wanted. “Japanese rations have great fish,” Ryazansky wrote.

Every new cargo ship comes with fresh produce, filling the stale air on the station with the aroma of apples and oranges. Deprived of strong flavors in their packaged food, cosmonauts often craved the most traditional Russian condiment: fresh garlic. Mission control took the request seriously. “They sent us so much that even if you eat one for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we still had plenty left to oil ourselves all over our bodies for a nice sleep,” Suraev joked on his blog.

There’s something endearing and downright adorable about astronauts perhaps the world’s toughest and gruffest folks, one would think — excitedly exchanging meals with one another like kids trading candy on the playground. It almost makes you forget all the petty and vicious squabbles back on Earth. (As I understand it, scientists, space explorers, and visionaries of these nations tend to operate on a different level than their politicians.)

The Intelligence of Betta Fish

Contrary to popular belief, Siamese fighting fish are fairly intelligent. Research indicates they have complex behaviors, social interactions, and even individualized personalities. Males engage in carefully coordinated combat, dance-like courtship, and the building of “bubble nests”, which they fiercely protect; all this indicates a fairly well developed nervous system. Bettas are even capable of associative learning, meaning they develop and adopt certain responses to new stimuli (think of Pavlov’s famous experiment with dogs, where they learned to associate a bell ring with food).

Having had bettas for over fifteen years—including around 36 at the moment (blame the pandemic!)—I can vouch for this by personal experience. Our bettas are inquisitive, alert, and generally perceptive of their surroundings, watching and exploring anything new that comes their way. They also have varied personalities: Some are nearly always aggressive, tending to flare at us when we walk by; others are more shy and reclusive. They even have distinct tastes in food (which has prompted me to get several different brands and types).

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Our beautiful betta Dream, a “dumbo” or “elephant ear” type.

Now, aside from this being anecdotal, I know we humans tend to anthropomorphize animals, especially our pets, attributing human traits, behaviors, and intelligence to their natural behaviors. But there is quite a bit of scientific research backing my impressions (and perhaps those of fellow betta fish keepers).

In fact, Siamese fighting fish are frequently utilized in physiology and psychology studies due to their complex biology; many scientists in these fields consider them “prime models” in understanding how hormones and other hormones affect behavior.

For example, one study found that bettas were affected by antidepressants, specifically fluoxetine, which relies on serotonin transporter pathways to regulate behaviors; in this case, the bettas saw a reduction in their characteristic aggression, which indicates that have a comparable neurological framework. (In fact, bettas can be bored, depressed, and happy; moving them to a bigger tank or placing new decorations will elicit a positive response, with each specific betta having its own preference.)

A more recent study showed that bettas are able to synchronize their behavior during fights—something that has been observed among mammal as well! The longer they fought, the more they could precisely time their strikes and bites, to an extent that surprised the researchers. The study also determined that fights are highly choreographed, with seemingly “agreed on” breaks between each move. Bouts escalated every five to ten minutes, when fish locked onto each other’s jaws to prevent breathing—and thus test who can hold out the longest. The bettas then break apart to catch their breath, and the cycle begins anew—not unlike a boxing match!

Even more surprising, the team found that this synchronicity went down to the molecular level: Certain genes of the combatants were “turned on”, and while it is unclear what they do, this may influence how bettas will engage in future fights. Thanks to the betta’s renowned martial prowess, the researchers claim to have a “new dimension” to studying the relationship between genes and the nervous system in humans.

Given the complex personalities among bettas, and their capacity to feel happy, sad, or bored, they should be given far more than a cup or vase to live in: Not unlike humans, they prefer more space, more decor, and cleaner water, even if they can otherwise tolerate less than ideal conditions.

The Swedes Who Saved Millions of Lives

Meet the Nils Bohlin and Gunnar Engellau, whose work at Swedish carmaker Volvo has helped save millions of lives worldwide.

Engellau, Volvo’s president and an engineer himself, helped push for a more effective seatbelt, after a relative died in a traffic accident due partly to the flaws of the two-point belt design—which was not even standard feature in cars at the time. This personal tragedy drove Engellau to find a better solution, hiring Bohlin to find a solution quickly.

There were two major problems with the historic two-point belt design, which crosses the lap only. First, because the human pelvis is hinged, a single strap fails to restrain the torso, leaving passengers vulnerable to severe head, chest and spinal injuries; positioned poorly, the belt can even crush internal organs on impact. Second, they were notoriously uncomfortable, so many people chose not to wear them. Bohlin’s innovation was to find a design that resolved both problems at once.

After millions of dollars and thousands of tests through the 1950s and 1960s, Volvo became the first carmaker in the world to standardize the three-point safety belt we now take for granted. More than that, Volvo pushed hard for the seatbelt to be adopted in its native Sweden, which like most places was initially resistant to having to wear seatbelts.

But Volvo didn’t stop there. While it patented the designs to protect their investment from copy-cats, the company did not charge significant license fees to rivals or keep the design to itself to give their cars an edge. Knowing that lives were at stake worldwide, Engellau made Bohlin’s patent immediately available to all. Having sponsored the costly R&D, they gifted their designs to competitors to encourage mass adoption. It is estimated that Volvo may have lost out on $400 million in additional profits, if not more.

Instead, literally millions of people have been spared injury and death by this now-ubiquitous seatbelt we take for granted. All because a couple of Swedes decided to put people over profits (which isn’t to say they didn’t reap any financial incentive, but proved you can do both).

World Mental Health Day

Today is World Mental Health Day, launched in 1996 by the UN—at the urging of the World Mental Health Federation and with support from the WHO—to raise awareness about one of the most misunderstood but increasingly problematic issues facing humanity.

Even the concept of mental health is fairy new in human history. What we now call mental illnesses were known, studied, and treated by the ancient Mesopotamians, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, Chinese, and Indians. Some were called “hysteria” and “melancholy” by the Egyptians, and certain Hindu texts describe symptoms associated with anxiety, depression, and schizophrenia. The Greeks coined the term “psychosis”, meaning “principle of life/animation”, in reference to the condition of the soul.

In virtually every society up until the 18th century, mental health was associated with moral, supernatural, magical and/or religious causes, usually with the victim at fault in some way. The Islamic world came closest to developing something like a mental health institution, with “bimaristans” (hospitals) as early as the ninth century having wards dedicated to the mentally ill. The term “crazy” (from Middle English meaning “cracked”) and insane (from Latin insanus meaning “unhealthy”) came to mean mental disorder in Medieval Europe.

In the mid 19th century, American doctor William Sweester coined the term “mental hygiene” as a conceptual precursor to mental health. Advances in medicine, both technologically and philosophically, quickly found the connection between mental and physical health while minimizing the idea of moral or spiritual flaws being the cause (the Greeks did come close to this, namely Hippocrates, who linked syphilis to a physical cause).

But the dark takeaway from this was the so called “social hygiene movement“, which saw eugenics, forced sterilization, and harsh experimental treatments as the solutions to mental and physical disabilities or divergences. Though the Nazis were the ultimate manifestation of this odious idea, their propaganda and policies cited most of the Western world, including the U.S., as standing with them in their efforts to cleanse populations. (In fact, the term mental health was devised after the Second World War partly to replace the now-poisoned idea of mental “hygiene”.)

While we have come a long way towards realizing the evils and horrors of how we treat mental illness—from ancient times to very recent history—abuses, misunderstandings, and neglect remain worldwide problems.

Hence I also want to take today to thank everyone throughout my life who has been so understanding, supportive, and affirming with respect to my own mental health struggles. I would never have broken through my anxiety or depression induced barriers without a loving and compassionate social support structure along the way (to say nothing of my relative socioeconomic privileges, which unfortunately remains the most common barrier to mental health treatment in the U.S.).

I am certainly luckier than most. Mental illnesses are more common in the U.S. than cancer, diabetes, or heart disease, which are far better known and addressed. Over a quarter of all Americans over the age of 18 meet the criteria for having a mental illness. Youth mental health has become especially dire, with 13% reporting a major depressive episode just over the past year, of whom only 28% get treatment. And over 90% of Americans with a substance abuse issue (which is usually tied to mental health) receive no treatment.

Worldwide, one out of four humans endure a mental health episode in their lifetimes. Depressive disorders are already the fourth leading cause of the global disease burden, and will likely rank second by the end of 2020, behind only ischemic heart disease. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), the global cost of mental illness—in terms of treatment, lost productivity, etc.—was nearly $2.5 trillion in 2010, with a projected increase to over $6 trillion by 2030.

Tragically, most mental health issues can be treated with relative ease: 80% of people with schizophrenia can be free of relapses following one year of treatment with antipsychotic drugs combined with family intervention. Up to 60% of people with depression can recover with a proper combination of antidepressant drugs and psychotherapy. And up to 70% of people with epilepsy can be seizure free with simple, inexpensive anticonvulsants. Even changing one’s diet could have an effect.

But over 40% of countries have no mental health policy, over 30% have no mental health programs, and around 25% have no mental health legislation. Nearly a third of countries allocate less than 1% of their total health budgets to mental health, while another third spend just 1% of their budgets on mental health. (The U.S. spent about 7.6% in 2001.)

In his book, Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression – and the Unexpected Solutions, Johann Hari explores the environmental and socioeconomic factors that contribute to poor mental health, and how these are often neglected in discussions and approaches to depression and anxiety.

Someone could meditate, think positively, or pursue therapy all they want, but if they are rationing insulin to stay alive, cannot find affordable housing, struggle to find a well paying job, and are otherwise at the mercy of external forces that leave them fundamentally deprived, such treatments—however effective and beneficial in many contexts—can only go so far.

He illustrates this perfectly with the following account:

In the early days of the 21st century, a South African psychiatrist named Derek Summerfeld went to Cambodia, at a time when antidepressants were first being introduced there. He began to explain the concept to the doctors he met. They listened patiently and then told him they didn’t need these new antidepressants, because they already had antidepressants that work. He assumed they were talking about some kind of herbal remedy.

He asked them to explain, and they told him about a rice farmer they knew whose left leg was blown off by a landmine. He was fitted with a new limb, but he felt constantly anxious about the future, and was filled with despair. The doctors sat with him, and talked through his troubles. They realised that even with his new artificial limb, his old job—working in the rice paddies—was leaving him constantly stressed and in physical pain, and that was making him want to just stop living. So they had an idea. They believed that if he became a dairy farmer, he could live differently. So they bought him a cow. In the months and years that followed, his life changed. His depression—which had been profound—went away. ‘You see, doctor,’ they told him, the cow was an ‘antidepressant’.

To them, finding an antidepressant didn’t mean finding a way to change your brain chemistry. It meant finding a way to solve the problem that was causing the depression in the first place. We can do the same. Some of these solutions are things we can do as individuals, in our private lives. Some require bigger social shifts, which we can only achieve together, as citizens. But all of them require us to change our understanding of what depression and anxiety really are.

This is radical, but it is not, I discovered, a maverick position. In its official statement for World Health Day in 2017, the United Nations reviewed the best evidence and concluded that ‘the dominant biomedical narrative of depression’ is based on ‘biased and selective use of research outcomes’ that ‘must be abandoned’. We need to move from ‘focusing on ‘chemical imbalances’, they said, to focusing more on ‘power imbalances’.

I can only hope that as mental health becomes less stigmatized—less a matter of superstition, genetic inferiority, or moral and individual failing—we can work towards building fairer and more just societies that promote human flourishing, physically, mentally, and spiritually.

Source: WHO

The Little Satellite that Triggered the Space Age

On this day in 1957, the Soviet spacecraft Sputnik 1, the first artificial satellite to orbit the Earth, was launched from the Baikonur Cosmodrome (the first, largest, and most active space port to this day). Thus, began a series of pioneering Soviet firsts—from nonhuman lunar landings to explorations of Venus—that would in turn trigger the Space Race with America culminating in the Moon landings.

60 Years Since Sputnik | Space | Air & Space Magazine

Ironically, despite the centralized and authoritarian nature of the Soviet political system, the U.S.S.R. never developed a single coordinating space agency like NASA. Instead it relied on several competing “design bureaus” led by brilliant and ambitious chief engineers vying to produce the best ideas. In other worlds, these Cold War rivals embraced space exploration with the other side’s philosophy: the Americans were more government centered, while the Russians went with something closer to a free market. (Of course, this oversimplifies things since the U.S. relied and still relies on independent contractors.)

Sergei Korolev - Wikipedia

Hence Sputnik was the product of six different entities, from the Soviet Academy of Science to the Ministry of Defense and even the Ministry of Shipbuilding. The satellite had been proposed and designed by Sergei Korolev, a visionary rocket scientist who also designed its launcher, the R-7, which was the world’s first intercontinental ballistic missile. He is considered the father of modern aeronautics, playing a leading role in launching the first animal and human into space, with plans to land on the Moon before his unexpected death in 1966—three years before the U.S. would achieve that feat (who knows if the Russians would have made it had Korolev lived).

As many of us know, Sputnik’s launch led to the so called “Sputnik crisis”, which triggered panic and even hysteria among Americans, who feared the “free world” was outdone by the communists and that American prestige, leadership, scientific achievement, and even national security were all at stake. (After all, the first ICBM had just been used to launch the satellite and could very well do the same with nukes.)

Surprisingly, neither the Soviet nor American governments put much importance in Sputnik, at least not initially. The Russian response was pretty lowkey, as Sputnik was not intended for propaganda. The official state newspaper devoted only a few paragraphs to it, and the government had kept private its advances in rocketry and space science, which were well ahead of the rest of the world.

The U.S. government response was also surprisingly muted, far more so than the American public. The Eisenhower Administration already knew what was coming due to spy planes and other intelligence. Not only did they try to play it down, but Eisenhower himself was actually pleased that the U.S.S.R., and not the U.S., would be the first to test the waters of this new and uncertain frontier of space law.

But the subsequent shock and concern caught both the Soviet and American governments off guard. The U.S.S.R. soon went all-in with propaganda about Soviet technological expertise, especially as the Western world had long propagandized its superiority over the backward Russians. The U.S. pour money and resources into science and technology, creating not only NASA but DARPA, which is best known for planting the seeds of what would become the Internet. There was a new government-led emphasis on science and technology in American schools, with Congress enacting the 1958 National Defense Education Act, which provided low-interest loans for college tuition to students majoring in math and science.

After the launch of Sputnik, one poll found that one in four Americans thought that Russian sciences and engineering were superior to American; but the following year, this stunningly dropped to one out of ten, as the U.S. began launching its own satellites into space. The U.S.-run GPS system was largely the result of American physicists realizing Sputnik’s potential for allowing objects to be pinpointed from space.

The response to Sputnik was not entirely political, fearful, or worrisome. It was also a source of inspiration for generations of engineers, scientists, and astronauts across the world, even in the rival U.S. Many saw it optimistically as the start of a great new space age. The aeronautic designer Harrison Storms—responsible for the X-15 rocket plane and a head designer for major elements of the Apollo and Saturn V programs—claimed that the launch of Sputnik moved him to think of space as being the next step for America. Astronauts Alan Shepard, the first American in space, and Deke Slayton, one of the “Mercury Seven” who led early U.S. spaceflights, later wrote of how the sight of Sputnik 1 passing overhead inspired them to pursue their record-breaking new careers.

Who could look back and imagine that this simple, humble little satellite would lead us to where we are today? For all the geopolitical rivalry involved, Sputnik helped usher in tremendous hope, progress, and technological achievement.

The WEIRD Phenomenon

Most of us are familiar with the Muller-Lyer optical illusion above, named after its creator, German psychologist Franz Carl Müller-Lyer.

Like most optical illusions, it is designed to test basic brain and visual functions, helping us learn how and why human senses, cognition, etc. work the way they do. Many folks think the second line is longer than the first, even though both are the same, which purportedly shows that humans are susceptible to certain visual guides like arrows (though explanations for why this happens vary).

But the results do not tell the whole story: while many Westerners fall for this illusion (myself included), a study of 14 indigenous cultures found that none were tricked to the same degree. In fact, some cultures, like the San people of the Kalahari Desert, knew the two lines were equal length.

That’s because most studies claiming to reflect universal traits of human psychology and physiology only do so for a small and specific demographic—people from “WEIRD” societies, or Western, Educated, Industrialized, Rich and Democratic—which represent a tiny minority of all humans (about 12 percent).

The “WEIRD” phenomenon was first described in a 2010 paper from the University of British Columbia in Vancouver, which found that 96 percent of studies in economics, psychology, and cognitive science—such as the ones on optical illusions—were performed on people with European backgrounds. A sample of hundreds of studies in leading psychology journals found close to 70 percent of subjects were from the U.S., and of these, 67 percent were undergraduates studying psychology (which further slants studies to reflect one particular age group).

All this means that a randomly selected American undergraduate is 4,000 times likelier to be a subject in a psych study—and thus reflect all of human nature—than a random non-Westerner.

Yet when scientists perform some of these experiments in other cultures, the results are very different—not just for optical illusions, but for things as diverse as moral reasoning, notions of fairness, and sexual behavior. Even mental disorders seem to manifest differently across cultures and ethnic groups: one small study found that people with schizophrenia in India and Ghana hear friendlier voices than their counterparts in the U.S., suggesting that culture and environment may play a role. (This may account for why Westerners have a harder time with the Muller-Lyer optical illusion than some indigenous people: Most Americans are raised in urban environments where horizontal lines and sharp corners are ubiquitous; this presumably influences us into making optical calibrations that can potentially misfire, which forager societies like the San do not have to worry about.)

In fact, people from WEIRD societies like the U.S. appear to be outliers among humans, with the authors of the UBC concluding that Westerners “are among the least representative populations one could find for generalizing about humans”.

As an writer for NPR blithely noted, “It was not so much that the emperor of psychology had no clothes. It was more that he was dancing around in Western garb pretending to represent all humanity”.

Fortunately, researchers have wizened to these biases over the past decade, carefully adding qualifiers and caveats such as “in college populations” or “in Western society.” But its still easy for journalists, analysts, and casual readers like ourselves to read the findings of these studies and ascribe them to all of humanity. Much of human nature, like humans themselves, is a lot more complicated and multi-variable than WEIRD folks suggest.

Mayan Supermoms

Like most aspiring parents, I think a lot about how I will raise my children. Obviously, I am not alone in these concerns, since raising another human being is one of the most consequential things one can do.

That is why parenting advice is a dime a dozen, and why there has been so much interest and discussion around parenting styles from Asia or France. People everywhere share the same understandable need to learn the best way to shape their children in ways that will help them flourish.

One approach that has received far less attention is Mayan parenting, which challenges many of the assumptions that underpin parenting across the world. NPR has a great piece about it, and I recommend reading the whole thing. Here are some choice excerpts highlighting the life and philosophies of a Mayan mom:

Burgos is constantly on parental duty. She often tosses off little warnings about safety: “Watch out for the fire” or “Don’t play around the construction area.” But her tone is calm. Her body is relaxed. There’s no sense of urgency or anxiety.

In return, the children offer minimal resistance to their mother’s advice. There’s little whining, little crying and basically no yelling or bickering.

In general, Burgos makes the whole parenting thing look — dare, I say it — easy. So I ask her: “Do you think that being a mom is stressful?”

Burgos looks at me as if I’m from Mars. “Stressful? What do you mean by stressful?” she responds through a Mayan interpreter.

A five-minute conversation ensues between Burgos and the interpreter, trying to convey the idea of “stressful.” There doesn’t seem to be a straight-up Mayan term, at least not pertaining to motherhood.

But finally, after much debate, the translator seems to have found a way to explain what I mean, and Burgos answers.

“There are times that I worry about my children, like when my son was 12 and only wanted to be with his friends and not study,” Burgos says. “I was worried about his future.” But once she guided him back on track, the worry went away.

In general, she shows no sense of chronic worry or stress.

“I know that raising kids is slow,” she says. “Little by little they will learn.”

I would love to channel that delicate balance of stoicism and paternalism, somewhere between “helicopter” and “free-range” parenting.

Families In A Maya Village In Mexico May Have The Secret To Getting Kids To  Do Chores : Goats and Soda : NPR
Credit: Adriana Zehbrauskas / NPR

As it turns out, the Mayan approach reflects a fundamentally different paradigm to parenting. Whereas most Western cultures frame parenting as a matter of control—be it less or more, or over some things but not others—the Maya do not even have a word for control as it relates to children.

“We think of obedience from a control angle. Somebody is in charge and the other one is doing what they are told because they have to,” says Barbara Rogoff, a psychologist at the University of California, Santa Cruz, who has studied the Maya culture for 30 years.

And if you pay attention to the way parents interact with children in our society, the idea is blazingly obvious. We tend to boss them around. “Put your shoes on!” or “Eat your sandwich!”

“People think either the adult is in control or the child is in control,” Rogoff says.

But what if there is another way to interact with kids that removes control from the equation, almost altogether?

That’s exactly what the Maya — and several other indigenous cultures — do. Instead of trying to control children, Rogoff says, parents aim to collaborate with them.

“It’s kids and adults together accomplishing a common goal,” Rogoff says. “It’s not letting the kids do whatever they wantIt’s a matter of children — and parents — being willing to be guided.”

In the Maya culture, even the littlest of children are treated with this respect. “It’s collaborative from the get-go.”

No doubt this collaborative and egalitarian approach would be alien to most American parents (among others I’m sure). So would the Mayan idea of what is called “alloparenting”:

Human children didn’t evolve in a nuclear family. Instead, for hundreds of thousands of years, kids have been brought up with a slew of people — grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, the neighbors, Lancy writes. It’s not that you need a whole village, as the saying goes, but rather an extended family — which could include biological relatives but also neighbors, close friends or paid help.

Throughout human history, motherhood has been seen as a set of tasks that can be accomplished by many types of people, like relatives and neighbors, the historian John R. Gillis writes in The World Of Their Own Making. Anthropologists call them “alloparents” — “allo” simply means “other.”

Across the globe, cultures consider alloparents key to raising children, Lancy writes.

The Maya moms value and embrace alloparents. Their homes are porous structures and all sorts of “allomoms” flow in and out. When a woman has a baby, other mothers work together to make sure she can take a break each day to take a shower and eat meals, without having to hold the baby. (How civilized is that!)

In one household with four kids that I visited, the aunt dropped off food, the grandma stopped by to help with a neighbor’s baby and, all the while, the oldest daughter looked after the toddler — while the mom fed the livestock and started to make lunch. But in Western culture, over the past few centuries, we have pushed alloparents to the periphery of the parenting landscape, Gillis writes. They aren’t as valued and sometimes even denigrated as a means for working mothers to outsource parenting duties.

It is a stark contrast to the stereotypical—and still widespread—notion of the “mom in a box”: A mother stuck at home with the kids and responsible for virtually every domestic task in addition to nearly all parental duties. Learning on dads, relatives, or close friends is more common—if only by necessity—but is still treated as a last resort or otherwise unusual.

The Monument to Mice

The Institute of Cytology and Genetic in Novosibirsk, Russia has a statue dedicated to lab mice and the role they have played in a variety of medical research.

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Bronze Mouse Sculpture

The statue was unveiled in 2013 following a fund drive for $50,000, which includes the cost of the surrounding mini park. As sculptor Andrei Kharkevich explains, the statue “combines both the image of a laboratory mouse and a scientist, because they are connected to each other and serve one cause. The mouse is imprinted at the time of scientific discovery.”

Smithsonian Magazine notes another prominent feature of the institute:

“The most notable research to come out of the institute in its 60 years was a long-running study on animal domestication, reported Maggie Koerth-Baker in 2014 for BoingBoing. Researchers in the program, started by Soviet geneticist Dmitry Belyaev, carefully bred more than 40 generations of wild silver foxes, and documented the extensive physical changes the animals experienced as each generation grew increasingly friendly and playful toward humans. The experiment is still ongoing today, and some of the domesticated foxes are sold as sought-after pets to help fund the research. Perhaps a monument to the fox will one day join the knitting mouse.”

Mice have been interacting with humans, often to our mutual detriment, for around 15,000. Yet for decades they have been the go-to animal for studying everything from cancer to disease to treatment to even the effect of space travel (this is due to their simple, fast-growing biology, which is nonetheless still complex enough to be a conveniently close, if not imperfect, analogue to the human body).

While many researchers have raised both ethical and practical questions about using mice for science, virtually everyone agrees on the invaluable role mice played and continue to play in biomedical research.

In addition to being the only institute with a high profile (and adorable) home to the humble lab mouse, the Institute of Cytology and Genetics was established in 1957, only four years after the discovery of DNA in the U.K., making it one of the earliest institutions of its kind.

Photo credit: My Modern Met

The Pandemic Success Story No One Has Heard Of

Senegal is the pandemic success story no one has heard of—which actually tells you how successful it has been! The much-maligned WHO, as well as the CDC and UNICEF, played a key role in that.

In this country of 16 million known for its peaceful democracy and sense of community, Senegal’s response to the coronavirus is notable not only for its humanity but for its thoroughness. For example, each newly diagnosed individual – no matter how mild or severe the case – is provided a hospital or health center bed where he or she stays isolated and observed– a key element to Senegal’s strategy to contain the virus.

“Senegal is doing quite well, and we were impressed at the beginning at the full engagement and commitment by the head of state,” says Michel Yao, program manager for emergency response for the World Health Organization Africa.

Officials from both Senegal’s ministry of health and WHO stress that the wheels of the response team were set in motion five years ago in response to the Ebola outbreak in West Africa. Yao explains: “What we advised countries to have in place following Ebola in West Africa was to have an operations center, to have in one place the required information for effective decision making. It’s quite an important tool to control the crisis, and this was a good plan from Senegal to have this structure.”

Senegal set up its Health Emergency Operation Center (also known by its French acronym, COUS), in December 2014, in response to the Ebola outbreak spreading in nearby countries. At the start of this year, the center had some 23 staff members – five of them doctors.

Over the past five years, that center, working with the ministry of health and the support of international partners such as the World Health Organization, the U.S. Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and UNICEF, have run simulations of mock outbreaks and crafted emergency measures to activate in case of an epidemic.

Along with Vietnam and the Indian state of Kerala, Senegal proves that wealth alone is not a predictor for a successful pandemic response. It also shows the importance of working with international partners to get as many different perspectives, resources, and knowledge as possible.

The "Madman" Who Advocated Hand-washing

Ignaz Semmelweis is not a household name. But the Hungarian doctor may be one of the history’s greatest and most consequential medical pioneers. As the man who proposed the now-universally accepted importance of handwashing for healthy, now is as good a time as any to commemorate him.

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Especially since he died broken and ostracized in an insane asylum for daring to devise what we now take for granted. An unfitting fate for a man called the “savior of mothers”.

Semmelweis was a man of his time. The 19th century was the “golden age of the physician scientist”, when doctors were expected to have scientific training and perspective. Gone were the days when illness was an imbalance of “humors” or caused by “bad air” or divine will. Autopsies, once taboo, were more common. Anatomy was taking off, as we began to connect ailments with actual physical causes in the body. Doctors—like the young Dr. Semmelweis—were driven to collect data, crunch numbers, and find evidence to inform their practice.

When he began his new job in the maternity clinic at the General Hospital in Vienna (then the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire) he immediately started gathering data on something that troubled him: Why so many women in maternity wards were dying from “puerperal fever”, commonly known as childbed fever, a horrible and painful illness.

Dr. Semmelweis wasted no time. He studied two maternity wards in the hospital—one staffed by all male doctors and medical students, the other by female midwives—and counted the number of deaths on each ward.

After crunching the numbers, he discovered that the clinic staffed by male doctors and medical students had a death rate nearly five times higher than the midwives’ clinic.

Semmelweis was appalled. It “made me so miserable that life seemed worthless”, he remarked. The reputation of the first clinic was so bad that women literally begged not to go there, with some reportedly preferring to give birth on the streets. He had to get to the bottom of it.

Semmelweis carefully assessed the data and tried to find empirical evidence. He ruled out various hypotheses—overcrowding, climate, etc.—and discovered one key difference: The male doctors and medical students did autopsies; the midwives did not. The germ theory of disease was not yet widely accepted, so the doctor proposed that it was “cadaverous materials” that were causing the infections.

The solution was simple: He decreed that doctors needed to wash their hands after autopsies, not just with water, but with a chlorine based chemical solution he devised.

The result was dramatic: The mortality rate in the first clinic dropped an astonishing 90 percent. After hand washing was instituted in mid-May of 1847, death rates continued dropping precipitously: 2.2 percent in June, 1.2 percent in July, and—for the first time ever—zero in two months in the year following this discovery.

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Semmelweis wasted no time getting the word out to doctors and hospitals everywhere. Yet despite his evidence, the idea that all that mattered was cleanliness was considered extreme at the time. How could this one factor be the cause? The doctor was largely ignored, rejected, or even ridiculed.

In fact, he was ultimately dismissed from the hospital for political reasons and was so horribly harassed by the medical community in Vienna that he was forced to move to Budapest.

Semmelweis was outraged. He began writing open and increasingly angry letters to prominent European obstetricians, sometimes denouncing them as irresponsible murderers. His colleagues, including his own wife, believed he was losing his mind. In 1865, 1865, nearly twenty years after his breakthrough, he was committed to an insane asylum. Ironically, he died there of septic shock—similar to the infectious deaths he had worked to prevent—just two weeks later, possibly from being severely beaten by guards.

It was ignoble and cruelly ironic end to a man whose findings are now the bedrock of public health and sanitation worldwide. Semmelweis was ridiculed, marginalized, and ultimately forgotten because his observations conflicted with the established scientific and medical opinions of the time; indeed, many doctors took offense at the idea that they should wash their hands — at the cost of their patients’ lives.

It was only two decades after his sad death that Semmelweis’s recommendations gained widespread acceptance: Louis Pasteur’s confirmation of the germ theory of disease, followed by Joseph Lister’s use of hygienic methods during surgery both validated the Hungarian doctor, who lacked the scientific means to explain his findings.

But given his selfless and righteous dedication to the well-being of patients, I like to imagine Semmelweis would be pleased to see his ideas become conventional wisdom. He might also be amused that his name is used for the eponymous “Semmelweis reflex” or “Semmelweis effect”, which describes a tendency for new evidence or knowledge to be viscerally rejected because it contradicts established norms, beliefs, or paradigms.