By Yvette Marris Behind the Mask By Yvette Marris 23 March 2022 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen It would be hard to write about A Year in Science without the obligatory COVID article. We hear constantly about the stresses of being a frontline healthcare worker, the signs and symptoms of long COVID, and the endless vaccine scepticism. I’d like to tell a slightly different story. During the COVID pandemic, other infections didn’t just take a holiday and cancers didn’t just stop growing. More ordinary illness and injury continued behind the headlines. As a consequence of the pandemic, healthcare workers are additionally dealing with an abundance of patients, delays with diagnosis and some very complex medical cases. Megan Gifford worked in a hospital that didn’t primarily treat COVID-19 patients, but still had to adapt to the constant changing of rules, regulations and policies put in place to protect staff and patients alike from the virus. Now at the Peter MacCallum Cancer Centre in Melbourne, Gifford spoke to me about her experiences working at Townsville University Hospital in the only bone marrow transplant ward servicing a large population across regional Queensland. Gifford experienced the stress and burden of trying, not only to assuage their own anxieties but to also provide current, up-to-date information to patients and deliver high quality care. There were the frustrations of unavoidable logistical problems like border closures, stay-at-home orders, preventing access to crucial materials and patient transport. There was heartbreak of watching transplant patients deteriorate mentally, as their will to persist with treatments began to fade. Pathologists and haematologists also found themselves facing an unprecedented logistical nightmare, including re-allocation of diagnostic equipment and protective equipment for mass COVID testing. Access to essential biomedical material like blood and plasma became increasingly difficult and many suffered as a result. While pandemic consequences like long COVID and the increased prevalence of affective disorders, like depression and anxiety, are well documented in media and academia, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) hasn’t gotten the same amount of attention. Statistics and anecdotes alike are staggering, both for patients and healthcare workers. With stressors like an unprecedented number of critically ill patients, capricious disease progressions, high mortality, and ever-changing treatment guidelines the world was sympathetic to healthcare workers’ struggles (3). Yet with the lockdowns and restrictions over, it would be naïve to think everything would just return to normal. It was found that 29% of healthcare workers had clinical or sub-clinical symptoms of PTSD (1), and that this figure was significantly higher for healthcare workers directly treating COVID patients (2). Gifford recalled anecdotes of “patients suffering anxiety attacks when they smell the hospital alcohol rub and hear the familiar beeping of the various equipment”. Even beyond the mental health scope, logistical issues like delayed learning for medical students or the backlog of elective procedures is still placing an enormous burden on healthcare workers, despite the immediate threat seemingly behind us. But to say that everything remains in shambles would frankly be insulting to healthcare workers, who are working tirelessly to deliver good quality healthcare. The speed at which pathologists and scientists have adapted to limited resources and supply shortages, and the way in which doctors and frontline workers have shifted their style of care and developed new problem-solving skills, are exceptional and should not go unnoticed or unappreciated. Importantly, the COVID-19 pandemic and its ripple effects have brought centre stage the consequences of under-resourced healthcare centres in a way that affected all people, irrespective of geography, class or reputation. The reality is that the conditions in which many metropolitan hospitals found themselves in, with never enough staff or supplies, is a condition that some hospitals experienced long before COVID-19 ever appeared, particularly in rural settings. To say that every dark cloud has a silver lining would be horribly cliché, but in this case, there may be truth to it. This edition of A Year in Science is a chance for us to reflect on all that COVID-19 has called attention to and decide to do something about it. References Carmassi C, Foghi C, Dell’Oste V, Cordone A, Bertelloni CA, Bui E, et al. PTSD symptoms in healthcare workers facing the three coronavirus outbreaks: What can we expect after the COVID-19 pandemic. Psychiatry Research. 2020 Oct;113312. Janiri D, Carfì A, Kotzalidis GD, Bernabei R, Landi F, Sani G. Posttraumatic Stress Disorder in Patients After Severe COVID-19 Infection. JAMA Psychiatry. 2021 Feb; Johnson SU, Ebrahimi OV, Hoffart A. PTSD symptoms among health workers and public service providers during the COVID-19 outbreak. Vickers K, editor. PLOS ONE. 2020 Oct 21;15(10):e0241032. Previous article Next article

< Back to Issue 9 Rewilding Our Cities with Dr Kylie Soanes by Ciara Dahl 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Jess Walton Edited by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo When you think of nature, I bet the last things that come to mind are skyscrapers, freeways and footpaths. Welcome to the hidden world of urban ecology! I recently spoke to urban ecologist and prolific science communicator Dr Kylie Soanes about the challenges of conserving wildlife in urban environments, and what drives her to protect nature in our cities. Dr Kylie Soanes is determined to protect wildlife in our urban environments. (1) A research fellow at the University of Melbourne, Soanes describes herself as “your friendly neighbourhood wildlife scientist” on a mission to “save nature in cities and towns.” Her projects range from designing rope bridges to help endangered possums cross busy roads, to installing floating wetlands that bring biodiversity back to our urban waterways. Cities are a bustling weave of people and places, but where does nature belong in all of that chaos? That’s the question Soanes has dedicated much of her career to exploring. Like many of us, she grew up in a classic urban environment, longing to get into the wild. Her passion for learning about the natural world eventually grew into a career studying ecology and conservation at university. There is a common assumption that nature doesn't belong in cities. However, Soanes emphasises that cities are a “perfect place for people to connect with nature; there’s heaps of amazing biodiversity here”, adding that “it doesn't always have to look like the pristine natural conditions for it to be valuable”. She emphasises that communicating this message is the "first real step" in shifting mindsets. Soanes notes that urban ecology is often more about working with people than with science, explaining that “there are still people in this space that need to use it." Urban ecologists must be skilled collaborators, working with communities and experts across disciplines – from architects and engineers, to social scientists and artists – to reach solutions that balance the needs of nature and people. But what happens when communities don't feel seen by urban plans? A recent effort to protect swamp wallaby habitat along the Merri Creek Trail by diverting pedestrian traffic was met with concern from the community about personal safety (2). Cases like these highlight the challenges urban ecologists face every day when trying to make space for nature in our cities. Soanes argues that it is critical for urban ecologists to discuss “social risks and social justice, to make sure that we're not changing cities in a way that makes it worse for people". Public outcries like these often stem from communities that are faced with “a decision that they think that they weren't involved in”. The biggest tool in an urban ecologist's belt is community consultation, "so that everybody is brought along on the journey and we can make the right call for everyone." Some of Soanes’ favourite work is not just about protecting nature in cities, but putting it back. She speaks about creating new habitats in urban spaces, such as floating wetlands that transform bleak industrial wastelands into thriving ecosystems, or even rooftop gardens that reclaim space for nature. One of the most exciting areas of urban ecology includes restoring locally extinct species. Soanes cites the example of the endangered Key’s Matchstick Grasshopper, which was reintroduced to Royal Park in 2022 to restore the local population and support a healthy ecosystem (3). Often, such projects are overlooked in urban areas. She explains how they are frequently “put in the too hard basket”; but there is now a shift in focus towards “physically reintroducing species once we know that all the things that they need are there". So, where can we find some of Melbourne’s most exciting urban ecology projects? You can spot the floating wetlands in various locations along the Yarra River (4), and native wildflower meadows planted on roadsides throughout the city (5). Ever spotted those wooden boxes on trees around Melbourne’s gardens? They’re not decorations – they’re artificial hollows providing safe places for wildlife to nest (6). Additionally, “lots of councils are really embracing water sensitive urban design" by installing "miniature wetlands that slow rainwater down and clean it up before it hits our stormwater system" (7). The City of Melbourne has installed floating wetlands in the Yarra River since 2022. (4) Soanes also emphasises how cultural values and knowledge can be woven into urban ecology projects. She points to the revitalised Moonee Ponds Creek as an example, noting “it has a calendar for the Wurundjeri seasons and a beautiful cultural trail.” Projects like these offer valuable opportunities for communities to connect not only with nature, but with culture. So, how can we make our own homes more wildlife-friendly? Soanes encourages asking, “What can I add to make living here easier for species other than me? ”. It could be as simple as planting a few more native plants in your garden. As the warmer months approach, placing birdbaths or shallow water trays outside can help wildlife keep cool, “especially as our cities become hotter and drier”. Outside of her work as a researcher, Soanes has a strong social media presence, using it as a platform to share her conservation messages with the wider public. She emphasises that science communication is "about making your messages and your science accessible not just to the broader public, but to the people making decisions". Dr Kylie Soanes platforms her conservation messages on social media. (8) Soanes argues that "showcasing and celebrating those stories of success" gives people "hope that they can make change in their area", while inspiring councils and urban land managers to apply similar solutions. She acknowledges that wildlife conservation can feel "very heavy” at times but stresses “it is important to show that there are all these options out there.” "There are so many other people that want the same things, or would like to see their neighbourhood become a little bit better for nature," she adds. "I think almost everybody cares about nature – it just doesn't always look like wearing khaki and carrying binoculars at all times." A big thank you to Dr Kylie Soanes for taking the time to speak with us and shed light on the fascinating world of urban ecology. To keep up with her work, follow her on Instagram @drkyliesoanes or explore her research and projects at kyliesoanes.com . References Soanes K. Dr Kylie Soanes [Internet]. Dr Kylie Soanes. [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://kyliesoanes.com/ Paul M. A “balancing act” as council votes to fence dogs out of park, sparking safety concerns [Internet]. ABC News. 2025 Aug 21. Available from: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2025-08-21/merri-creek-dog-fence-swamp-wallaby-coburg-victoria/105675854 City of Melbourne. Melbourne jumps at the chance to bring back the grasshopper [Internet]. City of Melbourne. 2022 [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/media/melbourne-jumps-chance-bring-back-grasshopper Balance Enviro. Yarra River Floating Wetlands – Balance Enviro Solutions [Internet]. 2022. Available from: https://balanceenviro.com.au/project/yarra-river-floating-wetlands/ City of Melbourne. Wildflower meadows and rare blooms boost biodiversity in Melbourne [Internet]. Vic.gov.au . 2024 [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.melbourne.vic.gov.au/news/wildflower-meadows-and-rare-blooms-boost-biodiversity-melbourne#meadows Arthur Rylah Institute. Use of nest boxes in Victoria [Internet]. 2020. Available from: https://www.ari.vic.gov.au/research/people-and-nature/use-of-nest-boxes-in-victoria Melbourne Water. Constructed wetlands | Melbourne Water [Internet]. 2022. Available from: https://www.melbournewater.com.au/building-and-works/stormwater-management/options-treating-stormwater/constructed-wetlands Soanes K. Dr Kylie Soanes [Instagram page]. Instagram. [cited 2025 Oct 18]. Available from: https://www.instagram.com/drkyliesoanes/?hl=en Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 6 Proprioception: Our Invisible Sixth Sense by Ingrid Sefton 28 May 2024 Edited by Subham Priya Illustrated by Jessica Walton What might constitute a sixth sense? Perhaps, it involves possessing a second sight or superhuman abilities. A classic example of this would be Spider-Man and his ‘spidey-sense’ — an instinctual warning system that alerts him to imminent danger. Enhancing his reflexes and agility, his sixth sense enables him to evade threats with precision. Turns out Spider-Man is not the sole bearer of a ‘spidey sense’. While we may not be scaling walls anytime soon, we too possess a special sense that unconsciously guides our movements. It might sound peculiar, but knowing your arm is indeed your own arm involves a unique form of sensory processing. Considered by neuroscientists as our own ‘sixth sense’, proprioception is our own way of helping the brain to understand the position of our body and limbs in space (Sherrington, 1907). Consider a typical scenario: your first sip of coffee in the morning. Eyes shut, you savour your latte before the day begins. Such a simple act, yet impossible without proprioception. With closed eyes, how do you know where your mouth is? How do you gauge the position of your arm to ensure the coffee cup reaches your lips? Proprioception seamlessly transmits information about muscle tension, joint position, and force to the brain, making drinking your coffee an automatic and coordinated process. Proprioception operates on principles akin to those guiding our other senses. Specialised cells, known as receptors, are found in each sensory organ and receive information from the environment. Receptors in your eyes capture visual information, while those in your ears detect auditory stimuli. This sensory information is transduced through signals to the central nervous system – through the spinal cord and to the brain – where it’s integrated and processed to determine an appropriate response. Analogously, proprioceptive information is mediated by proprioceptors, a unique type of receptors located in your muscles and joints (Proske & Gandevia, 2012). Unlike our other senses, proprioception does not rely on input from the external environment. Rather, it provides feedback to the brain about what the body itself is doing. Changes in muscle tension and the position of our joints are relayed to the brain, ensuring awareness of the body’s whereabouts at any given moment. One implication of this ‘internal’ feedback loop is that proprioception never turns ‘off’. When you cover your ears, you experience silence. If you hold your nose, you can block out the smell. Yet even when still, in motion, or unconscious, your brain continuously receives proprioceptive input. Imagine this in the context of going to bed each night. What exactly prevents you from falling out of bed, once asleep? While most senses are subdued when sleeping, proprioception remains active, informing the brain about the slightest changes in the position of the body. This ensures a perpetual awareness of our body in space – and luckily for us, stops us from rolling out of bed (Proske & Gandevia, 2012). It can be hard to appreciate what our proprioceptive system allows us to do, given its unconscious nature and integration with our other senses. Rare neurological disorders affecting proprioception highlight just how critical this sense is in our daily lives. The case of Ian Waterman – now known as ‘the man who lost his body – offers profound insights into the significance of proprioception (McNeill et al., 2009). Following a fever in 1971 at age 19, a subsequent auto-immune reaction destroyed all his sensory neurons from the neck down–a condition termed ‘neuronopathy’. Despite retaining his intact motor functions, Waterman lost all proprioceptive abilities, rendering him unaware of his body's position in space. Although the viral infection’s initial effect was that of immobility, this loss was not due to paralysis. Rather, it was Waterman’s lack of control over his body that inhibited his ability to move. Sitting, walking, and manipulating objects became impossible tasks as a result of the absence of any proprioceptive feedback from the body. Remarkably, Waterman has been able to teach himself precise strategies to walk and function with a degree of normality (Swain, 2017). Yet, all movement requires concerted planning and relies entirely on vision to compensate for the unconscious proprioceptive processing. In the absence of any light, Waterman is unable to see his limbs, thus restricting his ability to move. An understanding of the molecular mechanisms underlying proprioception remains somewhat of a mystery compared to that of our other senses. However, recent genetic advancements are paving the way for the development of novel therapies aimed at neurological and musculoskeletal disorders (Woo et al., 2015). A study involving two young patients with unique neurological disorders affecting their body awareness revealed a mutation in their PIEZO2 gene (Chesler et al., 2016). Both individuals experienced significant challenges with balance and movement, coupled with progressive scoliosis and deformities in the hips, fingers, and feet. The PIEZO2 gene typically encodes a type of mechanosensitive protein in cells, r esponsible for generating electrical signals in response to alterations in cell shape (Coste et al., 2010). Mutations to this gene prevent signal generation and render the neurons incapable of detecting limb or body movement. These findings firmly establish PIEZO2 as a critical gene for facilitating proprioception in humans, a sense that is crucial for bodily awareness. PIEZO2 mutations have also been implicated in genetic musculoskeletal disorders (Coste et al., 2010). Joint problems and scoliosis experienced by the patients in a study suggest that proprioception may also indirectly guide skeletal development. These insights into the role of the PIEZO2 gene in proprioception and musculoskeletal development open up promising avenues for understanding and treating neurological and musculoskeletal disorders. It’s more than fitting to regard proprioception as our sixth sense. The capacity of our nervous system to seamlessly process vast amounts of information from our joints and muscles, all without any conscious effort on our part, is truly remarkable. So, the next time you have that eyes-shut first sip of coffee, give yourself a pat on the back. With your sixth sense at play, you’re clearly a superhero! References Chesler, A. T., Szczot, M., Bharucha-Goebel, D., Čeko, M., Donkervoort, S., Laubacher, C., Hayes, L. H., Alter, K., Zampieri, C., Stanley, C., Innes, A. M., Mah, J. K., Grosmann, C. M., Bradley, N., Nguyen, D., Foley, A. R., Le Pichon, C. E., & Bönnemann, C. G. (2016). The Role of PIEZO2 in Human Mechanosensation. N Engl J Med , 375 (14), 1355-1364. https://doi.org/10.1056/NEJMoa1602812 Coste, B., Mathur, J., Schmidt, M., Earley, T. J., Ranade, S., Petrus, M. J., Dubin, A. E., & Patapoutian, A. (2010). Piezo1 and Piezo2 are essential components of distinct mechanically activated cation channels. Science , 330 (6000), 55-60. McNeill, D., Quaeghebeur, L., & Duncan, S. (2009). IW - “The Man Who Lost His Body”. In (pp. 519-543). https://doi.org/10.1007/978-90-481-2646-0_27 Proske, U., & Gandevia, S. C. (2012). The Proprioceptive Senses: Their Roles in Signaling Body Shape, Body Position and Movement, and Muscle Force. Physiological Reviews , 92 (4), 1651-1697. https://doi.org/10.1152/physrev.00048.2011 Sherrington, C. S. (1907). On the proprio-ceptive system, especially in its reflex aspect. Brain , 29 (4), 467-482. Swain, K. (2017). The phenomenology of touch. The Lancet Neurology , 16 (2), 114. https://doi.org/10.1016/S1474-4422(16)30389-1 Woo, S. H., Lukacs, V., de Nooij, J. C., Zaytseva, D., Criddle, C. R., Francisco, A., Jessell, T. M., Wilkinson, K. A., & Patapoutian, A. (2015). Piezo2 is the principal mechanotransduction channel for proprioception. Nature Neuroscience , 18 (12), 1756-1762. https://doi.org/10.1038/nn.4162 Previous article Next article Elemental back to

< Back to Issue 2 Hiccups Evolution might be a theory, but if it’s evidence you’re after, there’s no need to look further than your own body. The human form is full of fascinating parts and functions that hold hidden histories - from the column that brought you a deep-dive into ear wiggling in Issue 1, here’s an exploration of why we hiccup! by Rachel Ko 10 December 2021 Edited by Katherine Tweedie and Ashleigh Hallinan Illustrated by Gemma Van der Hurk Hiccups bring a special brand of chaos to a day. It’s one that lingers, rendering us helpless and in suspense; a subtle, internal chaos of quiet frustration that forces us to drop what we’re doing to monitor each breath – in and out, in and out – until the moment they abruptly decide to stop. It’s an experience we’ve all had – one that can hit anyone at any time – and for most of us, hiccups are a concentrated episode of inconvenience; best ignored, and overcome. Yet, despite our haste to get rid of them when they interrupt our day, hiccups seem to have mystified humans for generations. Historically, the phenomenon has been the source of many superstitions, both good and bad. A range of cultures associate them with the concept of remembrance: in Russia, hiccups mean someone is missing you (1), while an Indian myth suggests that someone is remembering you negatively for the evils you have committed (2). Likewise, in Ancient Greece, hiccups were a sign that you were being complained about (3), while in Hungary, they mean you are currently the subject of gossip. On a darker note, a Japanese superstition prophesises death to one who hiccups 100 times. (4) Clearly, the need to justify everything, even things as trivial as hiccups, has always been an inherent human characteristic, transcending culture and time. As such, science has more recently made its attempt at objectively identifying a reason behind the strange phenomenon of hiccups. After all, if you take a step back and think about it, hiccups are indeed quite strange. Anatomically, hiccups (known scientifically as singultus) are involuntary spasms of the diaphragm (5): the dome-like sheet of muscle separating the chest and abdominal cavities. (6) The inspiratory muscles, including the intercostal and neck muscles, also spasm, while the expiratory muscles are inhibited. (7) These sudden contractions cause a rapid intake of air (“hic”), followed by the immediate closure of the glottis or vocal cords (“up”). (8) As many of us have probably experienced, a range of stimuli can cause these involuntary contractions. The physical stimuli include anything that stretches and bloats the stomach, (9) such as overeating, rapid food consumption and gulping, especially of carbonated drinks. (10) Emotionally, intense feelings and our responses to them, such as laughing, sobbing, anxiety and excitement, can also be triggers. (11) This list is not at all exhaustive; in fact, the range of stimuli is so large that hiccups might be considered the common thread between a drunk man, a Parkinson’s disease patient and anyone who watches The Notebook. The one thing that alcohol, (12) some neurological drugs (13) and intense sobbing (14) do have in common is that they exogenously stimulate the hiccup reflex arc. (15) This arc involves the vagal and phrenic nerves that stretch from the brainstem to the abdomen which cause the diaphragm to contract involuntarily. (16) According to Professor Georg Petroianu from the Herbert Wertheim College of Medicine, (17) many familiar home remedies for hiccupping – being scared, swallowing ice, drinking water upside down – interrupt this reflex arc, actually giving these solutions a somewhat scientific rationale. While modern research has successfully mapped out the process of hiccups, their purpose is still unclear. As of now, the hiccup reflex arc and the resulting diaphragmatic spasms seem to be effectively useless. Of the existing theories for the function of hiccups, the most prominent seems to be that they are a remnant of our evolutionary development, (18) essentially ‘vestigial’; in this case, a feature that once served our amphibian ancestors millions of years ago, but now retain little of their original function. (19) In particular, hiccups are believed to be a relic of the ancient transition of organisms from water to land. (20) When early fish lived in stagnant waters with little oxygen, they developed lungs to take advantage of the air overhead, in addition to using gills while underwater. (21) In this system, inhalation would allow water to move over the gills, during which a rapid closure of the glottis – which we see now in hiccupping – would prevent water from entering the lungs. It is theorised that when descendants of these fish moved onto land, gills were lost, but the neural circuit for this glottis closing mechanism was retained. (22) This neural circuit is indeed observable in human beings today, in the form of the hiccup central pattern generator (CPG). (23) CPGs exist for other oscillating actions like breathing and walking, (24) but a particular cross-species CPG stands out as a link to human hiccupping: the neural CPG that is also used by tadpoles for gill ventilation. Tadpoles “breathe” in a recurring, rhythmic pattern that shares a fundamental characteristic feature with hiccups: both involve inspiration with closing of the glottis. (25) This phenomenon strengthens the idea that the hiccup CPG may be left over from a previous stage in evolution and has been retained in both humans and frogs. However, the CPG in frogs is still used for ventilation, while in humans, the evolution of lungs to replace gills has rendered it useless. (26) Based on this information, it seems hiccupping lost its function with time and the development of the human lungs, remaining as nothing more than an evolutionary remnant. However, we cannot discredit hiccupping as having become entirely useless as soon as gills were lost. Interestingly, hiccupping has only been observed in mammals – not in birds, lizards or other air-breathing animals. (27) This suggests that there must have been some evolutionary advantage to hiccupping at some point, at least in mammals. A popular theory for this function stems from the uniquely mammalian trait of nursing. (28) Considering the fact that human babies hiccup in the womb even before birth, this theory considers hiccupping to be almost a glorified burp, intended to remove air from the stomach. This becomes particularly advantageous when closing the glottis prevents milk from entering the lungs, aiding the act of nursing. (29) Today, we reduce hiccups to the disorder and disarray they bring to our day. But, next time you are hit with a bout of hiccups, take a second to find some calm amidst the chaos and appreciate yet another fascinating evolutionary fossil, before you hurry to dismiss them. After that, feel free to eat those lemons or gargle that salty water to your diaphragm’s content. References Sonya Vatomsky, "7 Cures For Hiccups From World Folklore," Mentalfloss.Com, 2017, https://www.mentalfloss.com/article/500937/7-cures-hiccups-world-folklore. Derek Lue, "Indian Superstition: Hiccups | Dartmouth Folklore Archive," Journeys.Dartmouth.Edu, 2018, https://journeys.dartmouth.edu/folklorearchive/2018/11/14/indian-superstition-hiccups/. Vatomsky, "7 Cures For Hiccups From World Folklore". James Mundy, "10 Most Interesting Superstitions In Japanese Culture | Insidejapan Tours," Insidejapan Blog, 2013, https://www.insidejapantours.com/blog/2013/07/08/10-most-interesting-superstitions-in-japanese-culture/. Paul Rousseau, "Hiccups," Southern Medical Journal, no. 88, 2 (1995): 175-181, doi:10.1097/00007611-199502000-00002. Bruno Bordoni and Emiliano Zanier, "Anatomic Connections Of The Diaphragm Influence Of Respiration On The Body System," Journal Of Multidisciplinary Healthcare, no. 6 (2013): 281, doi:10.2147/jmdh.s45443. Christian Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," Bioessays no. 25, 2 (2003): 182-188, doi:10.1002/bies.10224. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. John Cameron, “Why Do We Hiccup?,” filmed for TedEd, 2016, TED Video, https://ed.ted.com/lessons/why-do-we-hiccup-john-cameron#watch. Monika Steger, Markus Schneemann, and Mark Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," Alimentary Pharmacology & Therapeutics 42, no. 9 (. 2015): 1037-1050, doi:10.1111/apt.13374. Lien-Fu Lin, and Pi-Teh Huang, "An Uncommon Cause Of Hiccups: Sarcoidosis Presenting Solely As Hiccups," Journal Of The Chinese Medical Association 73, no. 12 (2010): 647-650, doi:10.1016/s1726-4901(10)70141-6. Steger, Schneemann and Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," 1037-1050. Unax Lertxundi et al., "Hiccups In Parkinson’s Disease: An Analysis Of Cases Reported In The European Pharmacovigilance Database And A Review Of The Literature," European Journal Of Clinical Pharmacology 73, no. 9 (2017): 1159-1164, doi:10.1007/s00228-017-2275-6. Lin and Huang, "An Uncommon Cause Of Hiccups: Sarcoidosis Presenting Solely As Hiccups," 647-650. Peter J. Kahrilas and Guoxiang Shi, "Why Do We Hiccup?" Gut 41, no. 5 (1997): 712-713, doi:10.1136/gut.41.5.712. Steger, Schneemann and Fox, "Systemic Review: The Pathogenesis And Pharmacological Treatment Of Hiccups," 1037-1050. Georg A. Petroianu, "Treatment Of Hiccup By Vagal Maneuvers," Journal Of The History Of The Neurosciences 24, no. 2 (2014): 123-136, doi:10.1080/0964704x.2014.897133. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Cameron, “Why Do We Hiccup?” Michael Mosley, "Anatomical Clues To Human Evolution From Fish," BBC News, published 2011, https://www.bbc.com/news/health-13278255. Michael Hedrick and Stephen Katz, "Control Of Breathing In Primitive Fishes," Phylogeny, Anatomy And Physiology Of Ancient Fishes (2015): 179-200, doi:10.1201/b18798-9. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Pierre A. Guertin, "Central Pattern Generator For Locomotion: Anatomical, Physiological, And Pathophysiological Considerations," Frontiers In Neurology 3 (2013), doi:10.3389/fneur.2012.00183. Hedrick and Katz, "Control Of Breathing In Primitive Fishes," 179-200. Straus et al., "A Phylogenetic Hypothesis For The Origin Of Hiccough," 182-188. Daniel Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," Bioessays 34, no. 6 (2012): 451-453, doi:10.1002/bies.201100194. Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," 451-453. [1] Howes, "Hiccups: A New Explanation For The Mysterious Reflex," 451-453. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 4 PT by Saachin Simpson 1 July 2023 Edited by Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko and Patrick Grave Illustrated by Jolin See 'Pt' (medical abbreviation for ‘patient’) recounts a patient visit on an early-morning ward round at Footscray Hospital in my first placement as a second-year medical student. The line “I came to hospital with my innocence” was actually said by the patient and stuck with me, eventually inspiring this poem, which I wrote in a Narrative Medicine class run by Dr Fiona Reilly and Dr Mariam Tokhi. The poem depicts a dramatic rise and fall in tension during the patient visit. It is bookended by soulless technical medical abbreviations that exemplify patient notes on electronic medical records. Pt Pt alert and oriented, sitting upright in chair. Breathing comfortably, responsive to questions. Bilat basal creps, bilat pitting oedema to knee. Pt gazes out window at the opposite concrete wall Pt’s cataracts suddenly shimmer, a sorcerer’s crystal ball. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt’s power becomes apparent in his mighty ocular grip Pt’s lungs echo black tattered sails of a ramshackle timber ship. “I came to hospital with my innocence” Professional, qualified eyes dart from computer To patient And back. “and now I muse on dark and violent tricks” Med student looks at intern looks at reg looks at consultant. Feet shuffle, lips purse Pretending not to hear. “Your poisons gift no remedy, your words fat and hollow” Like a serpentine hiss, his derision rings through sterile air 5-step Therapeutic Guidelines for Reassurance (vol 23.4, updated 2023) does little for his despair. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt need not speak for his stony grimace conveys Pt’s sheer and utter avowal of his final dying days. Pt to await GEM. Frusemide 40mmHg. Cease abx. Refer physio. Refer OT. Call family. For d/c Monday. Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

< Back to Issue 7 Neuralink: Mind Over Matter? by Kara Miwa-Dale 22 October 2024 edited by Weilena Liu illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin What if I told you that you could control a computer mouse with just your thoughts? It sounds like something straight out of a sci-fi movie, doesn’t it? But this isn’t fiction… Welcome to the brain-computer interface, a device which is able to record and interpret neural activity in the brain, enabling direct communication between your mind and a computer. Tech billionaire Elon Musk founded ‘Neuralink’, a company developing coin-sized brain-chips that can be surgically inserted into the brain using a robot. Neuralink made headlines a few months ago by successfully implanting their brain-chip, dubbed ‘Telepathy’, into their first trial patient, Noland Arbaugh. While there were a few technical glitches, it seems to be working relatively well so far. Noland has been able to regain some of the autonomy that he lost following a devastating spinal cord injury. He is even able to play video games with a superhuman-like reaction speed, thanks to the more direct communication route between the Neuralink implant and his computer. But it doesn’t stop there; Elon Musk’s ultimate vision is to have millions of people using Neuralink in the next 10 years, not only to restore autonomy to those with serious injuries, but to push the boundaries of what the human brain is capable of. He thinks that Neuralink will allow us to compete with AI and vastly improve our speed and efficiency of communication, which is ‘pitifully slow’ in comparison to AI. Neuralink implants may seem like an incredible leap in scientific technology, but what will happen if they become normalised in our society? Let’s imagine for a moment … Jade, April 7th 2044 Shoving my jacket into my bag, I dart out of the hospital and pull onto the main road in my Tesla. As I speed past the intersection, I see a giant advertisement plastered on a sleek building: ‘Neuralink: Seamless Thoughts, Limitless Possibilities’. When I signed up to get a Neuralink implant, all I’d thought about were the infinite possibilities of how it would change my life – not what could go wrong. I wish I could say that I was brainwashed into getting a Neuralink, or that I had no choice in the matter. But the truth? I got an implant so that I could be ‘ahead of the crowd’ and because I was so frustrated at feeling inadequate compared to the other doctors at my hospital. When I graduated medical school, at the top of my class, people told me that I would do ‘great things’ and ‘change the world’. I followed the standard path, landing my first job and climbing the ranks one caffeine-fuelled shift at a time. I loved my job. Every time I saved a life, it felt like all my effort had paid off. Then Neuralink happened. I still remember the day Dr Maxwell - a doctor I worked with - proudly announced that he’d ‘bitten the bullet’ and gotten the implant. Over the coming weeks, we watched in awe: his diagnoses were quicker and more accurate than any human could imagine, and he went home as energetic as he’d arrived. Now, the extra hours I spent figuring out tricky cases were no longer a representation of my work ethic, but a symptom of my inadequacy compared to the Neuralink-enhanced doctors. One by one, my colleagues signed up for the implant. I hated the thought of having something foreign nestled in my brain, recording my brain’s neurons every second of the day. I told myself I wouldn’t let peer pressure get to me. But, as I watched those around me get promoted while I continued to work endless days, the frustration started to build. One afternoon, the department head came into my office to tell me that they were reconsidering the renewal of my contract. I wasn’t ‘keeping up’ with my Neuralink-enhanced colleagues. “We respect your personal decision, of course,” she said with hollow politeness. I wasn’t keen on being pressured into it, but at the same time, I genuinely believed that the implant would improve my life. When I told my friends and family about getting an implant, they were concerned. They tried to list all the things that could go wrong, but I came up with enough reasons to convince myself that it was the right decision. Once they saw how incredible the Neuralink device was, I thought, they would want one too. *** I’m jolted back to reality as the car veers slightly left, and I manually yank the wheel to correct it. Perhaps my implant glitched for a second… *** Everything changed after I had my Neuralink implanted. I was the only person in my family who had one, although a couple of friends did. At first, I felt invincible. The phenomenal speed with which I was able to come up with previously challenging diagnoses was thrilling. I was able to process enormous amounts of data and draw connections that I had never been able to before. It was addictive to feel that I was working at my full potential, using my newfound ‘superpower’ to save more lives than ever. About a month in, my thoughts began racing uncontrollably, until I felt like I was drowning in a flood of information. Sometimes, the input was so overwhelming that my head pounded and I struggled to breathe. My thoughts didn’t even feel like mine anymore. Family and friends started to grow more and more distant from me. This device was stuck inside my brain like superglue, and sometimes I just wanted to dig it right out of my skull. When I asked the doctor about removing it, he looked at me and smirked, “Why on earth would you want to get rid of such a game-changing device? Neuralink’s the new normal, honey. Get used to it.” *** A honk startles me as a car zooms past, nearly colliding with mine. I turn into a quieter street to regain my composure. But then – suddenly – thoughts of accelerating the car bombard my mind – so loud that I can barely hear myself think. The speedometer rises from 60 to 80 to 100 km an hour. I desperately try to disconnect my Neuralink from the car, to manually override the system – anything that will slow the car down. I start pushing random buttons hoping that I will get some kind of response. A red light flashes on my dashboard. ERROR. SIGNAL DISRUPTED BY UNKNOWN USER. I look up and meet the panicked eyes of a woman pushing a man in a wheelchair. Noah, April 7th 2044 The sun makes its final, glorious descent below the horizon, painting a beautiful array of pinks and oranges across the sky. I take a deep breath as Sophia, my support worker, pushes me along the road. We’re on our way to the grocery store, just in time for the end of day specials, which are all I can afford right now. Since my accident, I’ve tried my best to appreciate what I have, but it isn’t easy. Some days, I’m filled with rage as I struggle to complete daily tasks that I did on autopilot before my accident – back when I wasn’t confined to a wheelchair. It’s been hard to come to terms with this new body that I’m stuck with, and all the ways it seems to betray me. I miss the simple things – going to the grocery store by myself or playing board games with friends. But most of all, I miss working as an architect. I loved seeing my clients’ faces light up as they imagined the memories they would make in the new homes I had designed. This sense of satisfaction was taken from me the moment I was paralysed from the neck down. It’s why I’m so desperate to get a Neuralink implant. I would get one right this second if they weren’t so expensive. The Neuralink device isn’t covered by my insurance because the government claims that it wouldn’t be ‘cost effective’. While it won’t restore movement in my arms and legs, this implant would give me some precious freedom back. Maybe if I keep saving and take out a loan, I’ll have just enough to cover it and get my life back … *** “God, these Tesla drivers think they own the road!” I chuckle at Sophia, as a Tesla races towards the crossing in this 40km zone. As we begin to cross the road, I realise that the Tesla is showing no signs of slowing down. The car swerves violently, hurtling towards us without mercy. Sophia’s face pales as she frantically tries to push me out of the road. I squeeze my eyes shut, bracing for impact. Bibliography: Cernat, M., Borțun, D., & Matei, C. (2022, April). Human-Computer Interaction: Ethical Perspectives on Technology and Its (Mis) uses. In International Conference on Enterprise Information Systems (pp. 338-349). Cham: Springer Nature Switzerland. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-39386-0_16 Fridman, Lex. (Host). (2024, August 3rd). Elon Musk: Neuralink and the Future of Humanity (No 438). [Audio podcast episode]. In Lex Fridman Podcast. https://lexfridman.com/elon-musk-and-neuralink-team/ Jawad, A. J. (2021). Engineering ethics of neuralink brain computer interfaces devices. Perspective , 4 (1). https://doi.org/10.23880/abca-16000160 Oravec, B. Neurotechnology, Ethical Privacy, and Information Technology. Knighted , 36. https://www.mga.edu/arts-letters/docs/knighted-journal/Issue-6.pdf#page=37 Youssef, N. O. A., Guia, V., Walczysko, F., Suriyasuphapong, S., & Moslemi, C. (2020). Ethical concerns and consequences of Neuralink. Natural Science. https://rucforsk.ruc.dk/ws/files/75503337/NIB3_Group1_Neuralink.pdf Previous article Next article apex back to

< Back to Issue 9 It’s Dangerous to Go Alone by Julia Lockerd 28 October 2025 Illustrated by Jason Chien Edited by Luci Ackland It’s safe to say that as a species, we have done a fair bit of thinking over the years. From microbes to mammals, to mapping the stars, we have always searched for ways to make meaning of the world and its many mysteries. Every day, the amount of knowledge possessed grows, building on the ideas we learn from each other. But what is knowledge without someone to know it? And how can we build a reliable foundation upon which to amass this knowledge? Many modern philosophers take a ‘what’s mine is mine’ approach to epistemology – the development of knowledge – with ideas like trust and collaboration altogether excluded from the recipe for ‘good science’ (1). Philosopher John Locke suggests that an ‘autonomous knower’ (2) – that’s you! – should only accept input from someone existing outside the self if she already possesses empirical evidence confirming that input is true (3). That is to say, don’t believe anything you read online, or in a book, or hear from your friend, or your professor alone. Basically, don’t believe the sky is blue unless you can look outside and see it for yourself. This seems like a hard way to live and makes it nearly impossible to make any headway on scientific advancement. If there is truly no way to build on previous knowledge, how do we measure anything at all? When considering scientific disciplines, the (presumably brooding) ‘autonomous knower’ must give up her lone wolf life and finally make some friends. This is not only for her emotional benefit, but also because science simply cannot occur without it. Epstein (2006) argues that the three main drivers of scientific collaboration are as follows: 1. The topic demands it. This applies to fields such as cognitive psychology, where the topic is an amalgam of different specialisations. 2. To gain a new perspective. Researchers interviewed by Epstein highlighted how collaboration helps them gain new approaches and techniques. 3. To provide additional knowledge. Although it’s all well and good to assert you should only believe what you can prove yourself (looking at you, Locke), collaboration is crucial to avoid ‘reinventing the wheel’ every time you want to learn something new (4). This last reason, by its very nature, proves that, despite my best efforts, no one person can possess the whole of human understanding by herself. Thus, the ‘many-headed knower’ makes her appearance on stage. This version of the knower exists as an alternative to Locke’s Autonomous Knower, where multiple individuals can share fragments of a greater epistemic idea. Without it, whole scientific disciplines can be reasoned away as no single person possesses the evidence to prove the scientific idea exists (2). For example, many medical devices could not be realised without input from both clinicians and engineers. If knowledge cannot be shared between these two groups, MedTech might cease to exist at all. With the multiheaded knower by your side, you can now solve scientific conundrums with the power of friendship (or, begrudging teamwork if it’s 11.59pm and you’re still working on that group project due at 12.00am). To fully grasp how systems of collaboration function, we need to investigate the interpersonal relationships that make up the heads of the knower. Generally, these relationships are of two kinds: Moral and Epistemic trust. Returning to our old friend, the multi-headed knower, epistemic trust allows multiple heads to exist, while moral trust in social bonds between researchers keeps her many heads attached. Epistemic trust involves the acceptance of knowledge provided by an external source as true. While trustworthiness often evokes a sense of superior moral value, epistemic trust has far more to do with the perceived competency of the individual providing information. Wagenknecht calls these relationships ‘Epistemic Dependence’ (5). The word dependence here is interesting, as it reveals a certain vulnerability in the relationship between researchers. Wagenknecht likens it to someone asking for directions in a foreign city. Simply, it is a blind trust that one's partner knows the way to go and is capable of leading them there. But where does this trust come from? If trust were truly blind, I could justify my lab results with a simple ‘Trust me bro,’ and my supervisor would go ‘Fantastic. Nobel prize for you.’ Unfortunately, this isn’t how it works, and my career trajectory will (probably) look a little more complicated. It is instead proposed that there are ‘shades of trust and distrust’ that can be influenced by external modifiers, such as accurate conduct of experiments, analysis of results, and epistemic authority. In this model, trust is a dynamic concept that builds or deteriorates between trustees over a chain of interactions (5). If a series of interactions is positive and trust is progressively built up, at some point, an asymptotic limit of trust will be reached. However, the level of epistemic trust between any two researchers is high but never complete, even when there is no reason to doubt the other's testimony. This is good news for Locke, as there still might be a space in which his autonomous knower can exist in happy isolation. Moral trust, the far less popular younger brother of Epistemic trust, is the scrappy underdog in the world of scientific relationships. It is argued that morality shouldn’t even get a seat at the big kids' table, as there is no place for it in scientific collaboration (2). This raises the ever-devious question: why not lie? A little fudge of the numbers could make you the next Elizabeth Holmes, minus the jail time and general disgrace (6). To find an answer, I turn to T.M. Scanlon’s ‘What We Owe Each Other’ (7). Specifically, in chapter five, he discusses the ever-sexy ‘structure of moral contractualism’. Scanlon explores a set of moral requirements that must be accepted or rejected based on the concern we hold for another's well-being, their own personal values, and perspective. Simply, academic falsification is rare because one researcher owes it to another to give a truthful testimony. Returning to the analogy of being lost in a foreign city, what keeps the locals from sending a tourist in the wrong direction out of laziness or fun? I argue that it is the acceptance of a moral principle out of concern for another person's well-being. Immanuel Kant believed lying was always wrong, in every situation (a stance I’m sure made him suuuuuuuuper fun to be around) (8). If this is true, the structure of scientific collaboration must surely crumble in the absence of moral trust (9). Interestingly, Scanlon discusses the place of ‘impersonal values’ in the development of moral code. This relates to reasons for adherence to a moral code that does not pertain to the well-being or status of any one individual. He uses the preservation of the Grand Canyon as an example. We do not deface the Grand Canyon because it would harm any particular group of people, and we cannot argue that this principle is 'what we owe to others', as the canyon doesn't have any personal feelings (that we know of). Instead, only the value we have tied to the land itself stops us from turning it into the biggest lazy river in the world (7). In the context of research, not only do we owe it to each other to adhere to truthfulness, but we also owe it to science as a concept. Essentially, if you’re not doing science with a pure and truthful heart, you’re not doing science at all. Someone needs to tell Dr. Evil about this. As scientific communities have relied more and more on each other to produce collaborative results, science as a whole has become somewhat of a team sport. I argue that while epistemic and moral are two different forms of trust – or even the same form of trust applied to different issues – they both contribute to the social basis of scientific collaboration. Trust in itself is a purely social concept; just as knowledge cannot exist without a 'knower', trust cannot exist without two people, between whom that trust can exist. Therefore, whether you subscribe to the idea that moral trust has any place in scientific collaboration, it is indisputable that there is a social level to any interaction between researchers. This is to say nothing about the more 'frivolous' aspects of collaboration in which personal opinions, egos, and attitudes have been anecdotally proven to affect the quality of collaborative work. Science, at its core, is about understanding. It makes sense that we can’t even get off the ground if we don't start by understanding each other. References 1. J. Locke. An Essay concerning Human Understanding. www.gutenberg.org , 1689. Available: https://www.gutenberg.org/files/10615/10615-h/10615-h.htm 2. J. Hardwig. The Role of Trust in Knowledge. The Journal of Philosophy . 1991;88(12):693. doi: 10.2307/2027007 3. R. W. Grant. John Locke on Custom’s Power and Reason’s Authority. The Review of Politics. 2012;74(4) 607–629.doi: 10.2307/23355688. Available: https://www.jstor.org/stable/23355688 4. S. Epstein. Making Interdisciplinary Collaboration Work. Available: https://www.cs.hunter.cuny.edu/~epstein/papers/collaboration.pdf . [Accessed: Mar. 29, 2024] 5. S. Wagenknecht. Facing the Incompleteness of Epistemic Trust: Managing Dependence in Scientific Practice. Social Epistemology . 2014;29(2):160–184. doi: 10.1080/02691728.2013.794872 6. E. Fricker. Testimony and Epistemic Autonomy. The Epistemology of Testimony . 2006:225–245. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199276011.003.0011 7. T. M. Scanlon. What We Owe to Each Other. 1998. Available: https://www.hup.harvard.edu/file/feeds/PDF/9780674248953_sample.pdf 8. T. L. Carson. Kant and the Absolute Prohibition against Lying. Lying and Deception . 2010:67–87. doi: 10.1093/acprof:oso/9780199577415.003.0004 9. Immanuel Kant. An Answer to the Question: What is Enlightenment? by Immanuel Kant 1784. Marxists.org , 1798. Available: https://www.marxists.org/reference/subject/ethics/kant/enlightenment.htm Previous article Next article Entwined back to

< Back to Issue 2 Building the Lightsaber Some of the most iconic movie gadgets are the oldest ones. For this issue we look at how the lightsaber was brought to life. by Manthila Ranatunga 10 December 2021 Edited by Sam Williams and Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Rohith S Prabhu Star Wars : A New Hope was a massive success when it hit cinemas back in 1977. It was a groundbreaking sensation in the field of science fiction movies and computer generated imagery (CGI) in films. What really caught many fans’ eyes was, of course, the lightsaber. Also referred to as a “laser sword”, it is described as “an elegant weapon, for a more civilised age”. Now in our civilised age, we have decided to replicate this dangerous weapon. Lightsabers have already been built by a few enthusiasts. For this piece, we will be focusing on Hacksmith Industries’ lightsaber build from 2020 , as it is the closest to the real deal. Fig. 1. “Hacksmith Industries’ latest lightsaber build”, Hacksmith Industries, 4000° PLASMA PROTO-LIGHTSABER BUILD, 2020. Hacksmith Industries was founded by James Hobson, an engineer who builds real-life versions of film and video game gadgets. After multiple attempts, the team managed to fabricate a retractable, plasma-based lightsaber. However, this is not a real lightsaber, but more-so a protosaber in the Star Wars universe. We will get back to this point later on. How do they work? Let us first talk about how lightsabers work in the movies. A lightsaber consists of three parts: the hilt, the Kyber crystal and the blade itself. Similar to a traditional sword, the hilt is the handle and is made of a durable metal such as aluminium. It contains the Kyber crystal, which is a rare crystal found in the Star Wars universe and is the power source of the lightsaber. Moving onto the more interesting part, the blade is a beam of plasma. Often called “the fourth state of matter”, it is created by heating gas up to temperatures as high as 2,500 degrees celsius. A battery inside the hilt activates the crystal. The produced plasma is then focused through a lens and directed outwards. An electromagnetic field, essentially a force field, generated at the hilt contains the plasma in a defined beam and directs it back into the hilt. The crystal absorbs the energy and recycles it. Hence lightsabers are extremely energy-efficient, allowing Jedi Knights to use them for their whole lifetimes. Fig. 2. Robert W. Schönholz, Blue Lightsaber, c.2016. Of course, the lightsaber breaks the laws of physics. Electromagnetic fields do not work as they do on fictional planets like Coruscant. Energy-dense power sources such as Kyber crystals do not exist in real life, which leads us to the protosaber. In Star Wars lore, a protosaber is a lightsaber with an external power source. It was the predecessor to the lightsaber when Kyber crystals could not be contained inside the hilt. Since real-life high energy sources cannot be squished into the hilt, Hacksmith Industries' lightsaber build is reminiscent of the early protosaber. The build The engineers at Hacksmith Industries settled on liquefied petroleum gas (LPG) as the power source, the same gas used for home heating systems and barbecues. This gas is fed through the brass and copper hilt, and is burnt continuously to keep producing plasma. To form the beam shape of the blade, they incorporated laminar flow of gas. Ever seen videos of “frozen” water coming out of taps like this ? Laminar flow occurs when layers of fluid molecules, in this case LPG, flow without mixing. In this instance, a smooth beam is created. Unlike actual lightsabers, the beam does not return to the hilt to be absorbed. Of course, to be a lightsaber, it has to function like one, too. The plasma is extremely hot, reaching up to 2,200 degrees celsius. Therefore, it can cut through metal and other objects much like we see in the movies. This also means contact with the blade can lead to serious or even fatal injuries. The external power supply is in the form of a backpack, with mounted LPG canisters and electronics for assistance. Overall, the build looks, feels and works like a real lightsaber, which makes it a pretty accurate replica. However, we do not have the Force or ancient Jedi wisdom, so there are some notable imperfections in the design. Fig. 3. “Finished lightsaber build”, Hacksmith Industries, 4000° PLASMA PROTO-LIGHTSABER BUILD, 2020. Colours Lightsabers come in a variety of colours, each reflecting the wielder's moral values in Star Wars canon. Blue, for example, represents justice and protection. Green, blue and red are the most commonly seen in the movies, but lightsabers also come in purple, orange, yellow, white and black. If you did high school science, you may remember mixing bunsen burner flames with salts to produce colours. The same principle applies here; salts can be mixed in with plasma to colour the blade. For example, Strontium Chloride gives a red colour, so you can finally live out your Sith fantasies. Fig. 4. “Lightsaber colours by mixing salts”, Hacksmith Industries, 4000° PLASMA PROTO-LIGHTSABER BUILD, 2020. Improvements The downside of using plasma is that we cannot fight with it. Blades would pass right through each other without clashing. To fix this, a metal rod that can withstand high temperatures, such as Tungsten, could form the blade with a beam of plasma around it. However, this means the lightsaber would not be retractable, which defeats the purpose. To keep the blade coloured, salts have to be continuously fed through the hilt. This can be done with another pressurised canister along with the LPG, although it requires extra space. Despite the imperfections, the protosaber by Hacksmith Industries is the closest prototype to a real-life lightsaber. With constantly evolving technology, we will be able to build a more compact model that more closely resembles those in the movies. Makers all around the world are building cool movie gadgets like the lightsaber, so keep a lookout for your favourite ones. You never know what the nerds may bring! References 1. Amy Tikkanen, “Star Wars”, Britannica, published April 10, 2008, https://www.britannica.com/topic/Star-Wars-film-series. 2, 4, 7. Hacksmith Industries, “4000° PLASMA PROTO-LIGHTSABER BUILD (RETRACTABLE BLADE!)”, October 2020, YouTube video, 18:15, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xC6J4T_hUKg. 3. Joshua Sostrin, “Keeping it real with the Hacksmith”, YouTube Official Blog (blog), November 12, 2020, https://blog.youtube/creator-and-artist-stories/the-hacksmith-10-million-subscribers/. 5. Daniel Kolitz, “Are Lightsabers Theoretically Possible?”, Gizmodo, published August 10, 2021, https://www.gizmodo.com.au/2021/08/are-lightsabers-theoretically-possible/. 6. Richard Rogers, “Lightsaber Battery Analysis”, Arbin Instruments: News, published October 3, 2019, https://www.arbin.com/lightsaber-battery-analysis/. 8. Phil Edwards, “Star Wars lightsaber colors, explained”, Vox, published May 4, 2015, https://www.vox.com/2015/5/31/8689811/lightsaber-colors-star-wars. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 2 Mastering Chaos with Pen and Paper The mathematical laws which govern our chaotic and complex universe have found special use in describing the rapidly changing global climate. The work of three research scientists, with backgrounds in physics and meteorology, offered crucial insight into models describing the chaotic processes of climate change, granting them the 2021 Physics Nobel Prize. by Xen Papailiadis 10 December 2021 Edited by Mia Horsfall & Katherine Tweedie Illustrated by Jess Nguyen The world in which we live is densely packed with randomness and disorder. From the stampede of pedestrians navigating a major intersection and meshing together at the zebra crossing, to a flock of blackbirds hovering above like a shapeless dark cloud. All seems random and without any sense of pattern. However, at a very fundamental level, all of these processes can be described by logic and equations; as once remarked by Galileo, “the order of the natural world is written in the language of mathematics”. Through the tireless efforts of natural scientists from across the world, over millennia we have developed a remarkable understanding of the nature of the physical world. At the atomic scale of quantum physics right up to the largest astronomical objects in our universe, physics can both describe the present and decisively predict the future and past of a system. This is all with a pinch of salt, of course, as we run into some serious issues where probability and uncertainty takes over at the quantum level (best saved for another feature article), however, by and large we are capable of determining how a rocket will launch into space and where it will land on dry land, thanks to this deterministic tool. This may seem like the end of the story, however, Mother Nature will not dispel all her secrets at once. In the past century, scientists studying random behaviour, such as how clouds move and disperse or how the small fluctuations in the stock market can be tracked, have been at a loss applying deterministic methods (i.e. methods where we can determine or predict the outcome from a few fixed starting conditions) to these systems. There seemed to be no way to accurately predict the evolution of the system through time. This began with the likes of Poincare fruitlessly predicting the future movement of the planets in our solar system at the request of a monarch, and later Lorenz with his breakthrough and accidental discovery of the mathematical field of chaos itself. “Chaos Theory” is the study of complex nonlinear dynamic systems. In other words, a reckoning with systems that display persistent randomness and a perceived lack of total predictability. There is a nuance to this, however, as a system can simultaneously appear ordered, yet harbour chaotic behaviour within (as Lorenz discovered). Alternatively the systems may seem entirely chaotic however it obeys certain patterns when looked at closely (such as the aforementioned flocking birds). Among all the far reaching applications of Chaos Theory in describing the natural and human-made world, the most recent development has also been deemed worthy of the Nobel Prize. On Tuesday 5th October of this year, three leading scientists in their respective fields were awarded the title of the Nobel Prize, including a share in a $1.53 AUD million reward, by the Royal Swedish Academy of the Sciences. The Nobel recipients are Syukuro Manabe of Princeton University, Klaus Hasselmann of the Max Planck Institute for Meteorology, and Giorgio Parisi of Sapienza University of Rome. The prize itself was awarded “for groundbreaking contributions to our understanding of complex physical systems”, including “the physical modelling of Earth’s climate… and reliably predicting global warming”. This is the first occasion a Nobel Prize in Physics has been attributed to the field of environmental science and studying the future of the world’s changing climate, and initiates an interesting chapter in the interplay between research in physics, mathematics, and the global climate in decades to come. Receiving one half of the total prize money, Professor Parisi was awarded for the discovery of the interplay of disorder and fluctuations in physical systems from atomic to planetary scales. Having been at the cutting edge of complex systems research since the 1980’s, Parisi observed hidden patterns in disordered complex materials. His discoveries in understanding and describing the behaviour of these seemingly random materials and phenomena has far reaching contributions into biology, neuroscience and machine learning. Parisi’s work provides a mathematical framework for studying the evolution of the global climate as an example of a complex system. The Earth’s climate is a complex system of vital importance to humankind. Professors Manabe and Hasselmann, two senior climate scientists, shared in the other half of the prize for their contributions in modelling the Earth’s climate system to reliably predict global warming and climate change. In the 1960’s, Professor Manabe led the development of physical modelling of the Earth’s climate, uniting previously separate models of the ocean and atmosphere to demonstrate how increased levels of carbon dioxide impact on temperature on the Earth’s surface. This has effectively laid the foundations of modern climate models used today. Professor Hasselmann followed this up with research of his own a decade later, finding a link between local weather and climate. Hasselmann and his colleagues produced a model which described why climate models can be reliable despite weather being changeable and chaotic, and his work has been used to prove that the increased temperature in the atmosphere is due to human emissions of carbon dioxide. The decades-long work of all three Nobel Laureates fundamentally shaped our understanding and ability to predict how the chaotic and interwoven behavior of the atmosphere, oceans and land will change over time, and strengthen our understanding of the changing climate on our planet. As put by the Nobel Committee for Physics, their discoveries demonstrate that our knowledge about the climate rests on a “solid scientific foundation”, one which can only grow with future generations of climate scientists, physicists and inquirers of the world under a scientific lens. The world in which we live is a random and chaotic one. Despite this sea of unpredictability, a deeper understanding of its mathematical nature can reveal patterns which have far reaching ramifications to our society and even our existence on planet Earth. The Nobel Prize in Physics is one significant step toward greater understanding of real-world complex systems which impact us, and a deeper recognition of the impact we have upon the Earth’s climate. Our ability to understand complex systems is one of a myriad of stepping stones into the great unknowns of science. To those turning away from studies in mathematics and physics for their seemingly abstract and complex nature, the future of our society is written in these laws and it is up to us to master them with pen and paper. References: Bradley, Larry. “Strange Attractors.” Chaos & Fractals, 2010. https://www.stsci.edu/~lbradley/seminar/attractors.html Gardini, L., Grebogi, C. & Lenci, S. “Chaos theory and applications: a retrospective on lessons learned and missed or new opportunities.” Nonlinear Dyn 102, 643–644 (2020). https://doi.org/10.1007/s11071-020-05903-0 Irfan, Umair. “Earth’s climate is chaotic. The winners of the 2021 Nobel Prize in physics found patterns in the noise.” Vox, October 5, 2021. https://www.vox.com/22710418/2021-physics-nobel-prize-climate-change-chaos-model Oestreicher, Christian. “A history of chaos theory.” Dialogues in clinical neuroscience vol. 9,3 (2007): 279-89. doi:10.31887/DCNS.2007.9.3/coestreicher Plus Magazine. “Maths in a minute: Poincaré and the beginnings of chaos.” Universtiy of Cambridge, February 28, 2017. https://plus.maths.org/content/maths-minute-beginnings-chaos Press release: The Nobel Prize in Physics 2021. NobelPrize.org. Nobel Prize Outreach AB 2021. Thu. 25 Nov 2021. https://www.nobelprize.org/prizes/physics/2021/press-release/ Randall, David. “Winners of 2021 Nobel Prize in Physics built mathematics of climate modeling, making predictions of global warming and modern weather forecasting possible.” The Conversation, October 6, 2021. https://theconversation.com/winners-of-2021-nobel-prize-in-physics-built-mathematics-of-climate-modeling-making-predictions-of-global-warming-and-modern-weather-forecasting-possible-169329 Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

By Clarisse Sawyer < Back to Issue 3 Death of the Scientific Hero By Clarisse Sawyer 10 September 2022 Edited by Ruby Dempsey Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen Next Trigger warning: This article mentions racism, sexism and misogyny and death. As a kid I was obsessed, like most kids, with animals of any kind. I would spend hours at a time scouring the beach for shells, getting sunburnt watching lizards, and tentatively feeding the praying mantises I caught, watching with morbid fascination as they hunted and dismembered the unfortunate crickets. It was only natural that I soon became interested in science. The long days of summer holidays were spent pouring over children’s encyclopaedias and watching David Attenborough documentaries. Through David Attenborough, I discovered two incredibly influential scientists - the co-discoverers of evolution, Charles Darwin, and Alfred Wallace. I idolised them, in particular, Wallace. As a shy child, who avoided the limelight like the plague, I had a natural inclination to root for the underdog, and Wallace was presented as such. Wallace was, in contrast to Darwin, much poorer, much more humble, and received much less credit for the theory of evolution than his co-discoverer Darwin. In my developing brain, Wallace took on the status of hero. I would chatter incessantly about him. I developed an interest in insects and butterfly collecting because he was a lepidopterist. I am sure my parents found me insufferable, but they hid their frustrations well, through subtle eye rolls and conversation changes, because they were happy to see me interested in science. So for my 11th birthday, my Dad bought me a book of Wallace’s letters from his time spent as a butterfly collector in the Malay Archipelago. The book was a lot drier than an 11 year old would have hoped for. Most of it was just taxonomy, peppered with the odd personalised comment complaining about the heat. But there was one passage which stood out to me in particular. A passage in which he describes shooting a “wild woman”, upon mistaking her for an orangutan in the forest canopy. In this section he details taking the baby she carefully carried on her back, and raising it as his own “n-word baby”. He promptly taxidermied the mother, with the intention of selling her remains to a wealthy private collector in England7. It was at this point I stopped reading. At 11, there was no way I could tell this was just an incredibly bad taste joke, and that in reality Wallace had actually shot a peculiar subspecies of orangutan, and not a Malaysian woman carrying her child. At 11, I believed my hero would kill me, if I wasn’t half white, if I wasn’t so light skinned, if I didn’t wear clothes, if I didn’t speak English. I would wonder for years afterwards: how brown would I have to be? To be plastinised, taxidermied, sold to some rich collector to sit in a sterile glass cabinet, at the back of some ex nobleman’s mansion. The passage ruined Wallace for me, but not science. Sometimes I wonder, if my passion for science was only marginally less, would I still be in science? I don’t know. For every child who is only mildly deterred by the racism or sexism of their former heroes, surely there is one child whose passion slowly fades, until the only time it is mentioned is by anxious mothers pushing their children to study medicine. I lost my hero, a precedent for who a scientist should be, in addition to developing a paranoia. A paranoia that if I were to start idolising another white, male, historical, scientific figure, I would be met with the same realisation that he would’ve despised me. And I haven’t been able to find a new hero since. Despite there being numerous people of colour, and women in science for a millennia before me, they weren’t the ones promoted to me, or if they were, I found them unrelatable save for their gender or the colour of their skin. They were people who were, 99% of the time, hard working to a fault, such as Marie Curie. Often this diligence was presented as being a detriment to their happiness. So my decision to study science, like many other women and people of colour, was also a decision to be my own precedent for what a scientist should be. While this is empowering, it is difficult not to envy those, like the privileged archetype of a white man, who might be able to draw confidence and inspiration from the figures in the preliminary pages of scientific textbooks. Whilst the majority of them may prove unrelatable, the sheer quantity would ensure that at least one would be a sympathetic character, in stark contrast to the singular, tokenistic entries on historical non-white or female scientists in such text books. But does it really have to be this way? Why should anyone have to feel alienated by scientific history? Why are there not more diverse heroes for us to fall back on? At the crux of my alienation from Wallace, and scientific history more generally, was deceit, more specifically what I perceived as lying by omission. The initial presentation of scientific figures such as Wallace by media, institutions and the like is so sympathetic and devoid of grisly details, that upon discovering the multifaceted nature of these individuals, I experienced a kind of historical whiplash. A scientific education is often presented as being objective. What you are taught in a classroom, at least at a primary or secondary level, is not meant to be subject to much nuance or interpretation. Now, when this concerns science itself, it is a non-issue, because it is true, for instance, that chromosomes are made of DNA, or that the first electron shell of an atom contains 2 electrons. The issue is that the perception of objectivity carries over into the way science history is taught. Unfortunately, this teaching is unavoidably subjective. Teachers and institutions often present positive anecdotes about scientists' hobbies and personal lives. A teacher may share for instance, an endearing fact about the influential French palaeontologist, Georges Cuvier, that he became as knowledgeable in biology as university trained naturalists by the age of 126. However, said teacher may neglect to mention the fact that after her death, Georges Cuvier dissected and taxidermied Sarah Baartman , a South African woman of the Khoisan tribe, and paraded her as a freak for the English public5. Her plastinated body remained on display at the Museum of Manin Paris until 19744. In this example, it would be impossible to say that the teacher’s presentation of Cuvier was objective. Choosing to share the nicest facts about a scientist, to make them appealing to your audience, while neglecting the ugly truths,is at best, irresponsible, and at worst, lying by omission. .Abhorrent actions, such as Cuvier’s treatment of Baartman’s corpse, a woman with whom he had danced and conversed with before her death, are treated as unnecessary details in objective scientific history, as they do not pertain to Cuvier’s scientific discoveries. However, equally unnecessary details, such as Cuvier’s early aptitude for biology, are peppered into school curricula liberally. However, it would be unfair to say that the primary reason why natural history is taught in this way is because of conscious racism and sexism. There are a multitude of explanations for why educators teach like this. Educators may choose to include only the nicer traits of scientific figures, in part perhaps because they do not want to risk disengaging students with affronting subject matter. Further, the morbidity and the racism of scientific history is not exactly appropriate content to teach to younger children. Precedent also plays a role in the way in which natural history is taught. Teaching natural history in an unbiased and inclusive fashion would require rewriting a lot of material. Educators would also have to reevaluate their own personal perceptions of historical figures, which is a difficult task. For instance in Australia, the textbooks A Short History of Australia2 and The Story of Australia3, which were staples of Australian high school history classes for decades, are white-centric stories of Australian exploration, which gloss over perturbing historic details such as massacres of Indigenous peoples. While teaching scientific history in a fair, unbiased and age appropriate manner might seem like an impossible task, there are a variety of small steps educators can take towards this end goal. A strong start would be the following; if teachers decide to include personal details about famous scientific figures, they should seek to include both positive and negative anecdotes, which frame negative actions in a disapproving light. The negative anecdotes serve to ensure that students don’t get ‘whiplash’ as they pursue their education, and also serve to show that modern science does not condone or approve of these actions. In the case of younger students, it is best for teachers to avoid talking about triggering topics, so teachers should teach scientific history from an objective standpoint sans personal details. Teachers also should, as part of their responsibilities as an educator, seek out alternative historical perspectives which challenge their own preconceived notions. And educational institutions should offer professional development courses which provide educators with a more balanced view on scientific history. These actions would help eliminate any subliminal biases teachers might have whilst teaching scientific history. And why are there not more diverse heroes for us to fall back upon? Lack of equal opportunity for marginalised groups in Western society for most of history and the systemic erasure of their contributions is an obvious reason, however through relying on secondary, colonial sources for information, instead of delving deeper into primary sources, educators and institutions inadvertently gloss over scientific contributions by marginalised groups. For example, the contributions of Indigenous Australian scientists and explorers are often ignored by museums. Many famous white explorers of Australia, such as Thomas Mitchell, Charles Sturt and Alexander Forrest worked closely alongside Indigenous guides, who helped navigate territory, and point out items of scientific interest, and their names are actually often acknowledged in primary sources1. For instance, one of explorer Thomas Mitchell’s chief guides, Yuranigh, is mentioned extensively in Mitchell’s personal accounts of his expeditions, and was acknowledged posthumously by Mitchell with a grave and monument1. These people, who were explorers in their own right, have largely been relegated to the footnotes of history and museums, in particular after the publications such as the aforementioned textbooks A Short History of Australia, and The Story of Australia in the 1950’s, which deliberately omitted Indigenous contributions to white Australian exploration in order to sell the false narrative of terra nullius. Luckily, through researching primary sources further, historians, educators and curators will be able to change the narrative, and shed light on these marginalised scientists. But what of scientific heroes? How is it possible to keep students engaged without the more personal aspects of science, given that many scientific figures will have to be cut from curriculums, at least for younger students?My answer to that would be to find new heroes. History is littered with people who made significant contributions without committing atrocities. And who knows, maybe in the void left by problematic figures, space could be cleared for more diverse heroes, the kind removed from history textbooks, such as Yuranigh; an exciting prospect. And yet, there is an unavoidable anguish in throwing out the old in favour of the new. Coming to terms with the fact that the people we idolised were terrible people is no easy feat. But all we can endeavour to do is to portray scientific figures as they were. To portray all aspects of these figures, good and bad, or none at all, and hopefully develop a new history, a new tradition, one that is inclusive, one for which everyone can be proud of and take solace in. References 1. Watson T. Recognising Australia's Indigenous explorers [Internet]. researchgate.net. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.researchgate.net/publication/321579451_Recognising_Australia's_indigenous_explorers 2. Scott E. Short History of Australia. Forgotten Books; 2019. 3. SHAW A. The story of Australia. London: Faber; 1975. 4. Parkinson J. The significance of Sarah Baartman [Internet]. BBC News. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35240987 5. Kelsey-Sugg A, Fennell M. Sarah Baartman was taken from her home in South Africa and sold as a 'freak show'. This is how she returned [Internet]. Abc.net.au. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-11-17/stuff-the-british-stole-sarah-baartman-south-africa-london/100568276 6. Georges Cuvier [Internet]. Britannica Kids. 2022 [cited 19 May 2022]. Available from: https://kids.britannica.com/students/article/Georges-Cuvier/273885 7. Wallace A, Van Wyhe J, Rookmaaker K. Letters from the Malay Archipelago. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press; 2013. Previous article Next article alien back to

2022: A YEAR IN SCIENCE 23 March 2023 Message from the Editors in Chief By Caitlin Kane, Rachel Ko, Patrick Grave, Yvette Marris A short message from the Editors in Chief Svante Pääbo: Talking to the Past By Lily McCann The world of today might seem completely alien to an archaic human, but 2022 Nobel Prize winner Svante Pääbo is pioneering work using archaeological DNA to decode genetic links to help us understand humans of the past. Meet the New Kid By Julia Lockerd Imagine a machine joins your art class, creating new art from an AI algorithm fed by original human creation. No need to imagine — AI has already refined art in 2022. From Fusion to Submarines: A Nuclear Year By Andrew Lim In 2022, nuclear science stood between old fears and new possibilities. What’s next for politicians, scientists and the public? Behind the Mask By Yvette Marris 2022 brought new stories of healthcare workers struggling in our post-pandemic world, but the big picture goes beyond the COVID wards.

< Back to Issue 2 What’s the forecast for smallholder farmers of Arabica coffee? For millions of smallholder farmers residing in the rural highlands of East Timor and Ethiopia, Arabica coffee is a major source of income. Yet, weather patterns are threatening their future livelihoods. With global coffee yields predicted to dramatically reduce in coming decades, how will this touch Melbourne’s privileged cafe culture? by Hannah Savage 10 December 2021 Edited by Ashleigh Hallinan & Irene Yonsuh Lee Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin The world loves its coffee. After crude oil, coffee is the most exported commodity in the world and global demands are projected to skyrocket alongside demographic growth (2). With a strong inclination by Australian citizens to participate in our bourgeois cafe culture, Australian demand can be expected to mimic this trend. However, as climate change continues to throw curveballs, pressures to satisfy these demands will be felt by all in the supply chain. There are many species of coffee beans, yet global consumption relies only on a narrow genetic selection. Coffea Arabica is the dominant coffee bean species in commercial production (approximately 70 percent), followed by Coffea Robusta (2). Agricultural research and breeding of these crops are not extensive, considering their high sensitivity to climate. If Arabica was a child, it would be the no-mash-touching-the-peas type. Though a laborious crop to farm, this fussy plant has low yield when too much shade deprives it of sunlight or too little shade shrinks soil moisture levels. It insists on altitudes 1000-2000m above sea level and 2000mm of rainfall per annum (2). Moreover, the optimal air temperature for Arabica is 18-21 degrees Celsius (3). With these environmental specifications, it is expected that half of the world’s optimal areas for growth of Arabica and Robusta are expected to be lost by 2050 due to climate change (13). After Hurricane Maria hurtled across Puerto Rico in 2017, 80 percent of coffee trees were destroyed and rural livelihoods were flattened overnight (4). Climate change does not pay sympathy towards poor and marginalized rural communities. Frequency and intensity of extreme weather is increasing in many developing nations. Changes in temperature, weather events and rainfall patterns are already challenging the ability of farmers to adapt. Rainfall distribution is becoming more erratic and unpredictable. This is a key concern to farmers as rain patterns correlate with timing of flowering and fruit production (2). Flowering is usually triggered by the first rains of the wet season, yet unpredictable rains during the year may cause flowering at undesirable times. Unsynchronized ripening requires additional harvesting cycles, costing farmers more money and labour. In addition, water scarcity and warmer air temperature also have profound impacts on harvests. Prolonged drought leads to misshapen or small beans with marks and imperfections (3). Low moisture and heat stress causes wilting, death of crops or acceleration of bean growth (3). At temperatures above 23 degrees, fruit ripens too fast for a rich, sweet coffee flavour to develop (2). What will thrive from these changing climatic conditions are pests, diseases and coffee rust fungus, which are becoming more prevalent in areas previously unfavourable for their survival (5). The insect Coffee berry borer has been a particular challenge to coffee producers globally, as it feeds on coffee beans and damages plantations. One to four generations of these critters are born each fruiting season (5). Climate change brings uncertainty to the future livelihoods of millions of smallholder coffee farmers around the world, who produce 70 percent of the world’s coffee (6). While world leaders dance around pretty statistical graphs of their carbon-cutting “achievements”, there is the underlying issue that global efforts to lower emissions will not have equal consequences across geographical locations. Poorer economies abundant in fossil fuel resources are pressured to implement policies that further increase their vulnerability and are left grappling to find quick coping strategies. Although it accounts for only a small percentage of global coffee production, East Timor is one of the most economically dependent on coffee. East Timor, the small-island nation 700km north-west of Darwin, has relied on its oil sector for economic development in recent decades, but now interest from foreign traders is depleting with global trends towards renewable energy. The coffee industry has been identified by the East Timor government as being a key opportunity for sustained economic growth and reduction of rural poverty. More than 18 percent of Timorese households rely on coffee production as their primary source of income (7). Coffee producers have a poverty rate of 47.9 percent, which is higher than the national rate of poverty, 40.3 percent (7). Many coffee-producing households are without electricity or access to clean water and regular meals. Figure 1: Distribution of coffee-selling households in Timor-Leste (7). Timorese Arabica coffee farmers today celebrate achieving yields their grandparents would have considered inadequate in the early 20th century during Portuguese occupation. This reflects how much the climate has changed across generations. Rain, once predictable to begin at the end of every November, is now inconsistent and reduced (1). Unfortunately, adaptive solutions often demand high investment and low reward in the initial implementation stages. Farmers may be reluctant to remove their aging, unproductive coffee trees and replant new ones for fear of losing a major source of income while waiting for financial output from the new growth (9). There is the temptation to instead plant new crops between existing ones, which exploits soil nutrients and harms coffee yields. Small short-term rewards also discourage poorer farmers from participating in collective reforestation projects (9). There is much work to be done to restore ecosystems devastated from rainforest clearances during Indonesian colonisation in 1975, which occurred mere months after independence from Portugal. Shade trees that characterise these tropical rainforests play important roles in supporting coffee growth. If farmers grow coffee crops amongst the rainforest, crops will benefit from wind shelter and rich soil nutrients (8). Shade reduces daytime air temperature and increases humidity. In the region of Baguia, the collaboration project WithOneSeed, (co-founded by Melbourne’s own ‘The Corner Store Cafe’ owners), actively alleviates poverty by restoring rainforests and granting farmers profits from carbon credit trades. Farmers plant an indigenous shade tree, carbon credits are purchased by foreign customers to offset fossil fuel emissions and a remuneration of 50cents per tree is given to farmers each year so long as the tree survives (10). WithOneSeed therefore provides rural coffee producers with income before trees mature and re-establishes tara bandu, customary resource management that sustained Timor Leste’s environment for centuries pre-colonisation. Organic beans are purchased from smallholder farms at a fair price by The Corner Store and roasted in Oakleigh. The supply chain is transparent and traceable and profits go towards funding WithOneSeed planting. Plus the coffee is good quality and grown without nasty chemicals! (11) Simple adaptive responses are also being made by coffee producers in the world’s fifth largest Arabica producer, Ethiopia (3). As Arabica has been said to originate here, it is perhaps unsurprising that 16 percent of the population rely on coffee for their livelihood. Figure 2: The main coffee growing areas of Ethiopia (3). In the case of a global temperature rise of 2.4 degrees Celsius, land areas suitable for coffee production in Ethiopia would be expected to decline by 21 percent (12). Resilience for smallholder Arabica producers now depends on creative solutions using limited technology and resources available to rural communities. Relocating farms to higher altitudes of Ethiopian highlands is one solution. But this transition comes at a cost for coffee producers in the form of social network losses. While climate conditions of higher land might be more suitable, other factors such as land tenureship rights and soil quality may pose new obstacles (13). As rain seasons shorten and dry seasons lengthen, Ethiopian coffee producers aim to boost irrigation by diverting nearby streams. This is an ancient and cost-effective solution that enables coffee to successfully be grown in areas classified unsuitable (3). Similarly, coffee producers are carrying out traditional techniques of mulching, where laying compost over soil conserves soil moisture (3). However, more government investment in supporting these adaptations is needed to keep ahead of global warming (3). Sustainable agriculture also needs to be met with fair prices. Many Ethiopian farmers do not have access to foreign traders who will pay premium prices that outweigh production costs. Coffee prices are determined by the international market, or “C price”, which is based on the theory that cost is proportional to global demand, with no consideration of quality or organic farming practices (14). This supports and encourages cheap, unsustainable agricultural practice because sustainable or not, farmers will receive the same revenue for their produce. To combat this, Ethiopian business CoQua, based in Addis Ababa city, facilitates opportunities for private producers to link with international clients and initiate direct lines of trade (14). Through CoQua, Melbourne’s Seven Seeds cafe were able to establish a trade relationship with private smallholder Ethiopian Arabica producers. Seven Seeds claim to pay 3.56 times the “C price” (14). Continue as we may to remain disconnected from the challenges of an environmentally fragile coffee industry, it is only a matter of time before global reduction makes noticeable impacts on Melbourne’s shielded society. What will happen when coffee stocks fail to meet Melbourne demand? Seven Seeds co-owner Mark Dundon told The Sydney Morning Herald that he predicts coffee prices will rise, despite general reluctance of consumers to spill more than one bank note from their wallets for a flat white (14). And why shouldn't we pay more for our hot beverages if producers vulnerable to food insecurity are paying more from the brunt of climate change? The following decades have a bitter outlook, but the recent pandemic outbreak enhanced our ability to envision rapid global disruptions where no corner of the world is excluded. Certainly a disruption to Melbourne coffee culture is a trivial issue in the grand scheme of things, but as consumers it is one worth considering now. The future for Melbourians to satisfy their cultural addiction balances dangerously on a series of environmental conditions being met in foreign highlands. While it’s true that being a “smart consumer” can feel like a matter of blind faith (how fair is fair trade?), favouring businesses that have ethical, direct lines of trade with smallholder producers is one small, immediate solution towards building a sustainable future for our treasured beans and those in the firing line of climate change. References: 1. Jack Board, “From crop to kopitiam, Asia's coffee is facing its biggest threat - climate change,” CNA, published 29 February 2020, https://www.channelnewsasia.com/asia/climate-change-coffee-prices-timor-leste-crops-1338741 2. Abaynesh Asegid, “Impact of Climate Change on production and Diversity of Coffee (Coffea Arabica L) in Ethiopia,” International Journal of Research Studies in Science, Engineering and Technology 7, 8 (2020): 31-38. 3. Kew Royal Botanic Garden, Coffee farming and climate change in Ethiopia, (London: The Strategic Climate Institutions Programme), 37, https://www.kew.org/sites/default/files/2019-01/Coffee%20Farming%20and%20Climate%20Change%20in%20Ethiopia.pdf 4. “How is Climate Change Impacting the Future of Coffee?,” TechnoServe Business Solutions to Poverty, published 16 September 2021, https://www.technoserve.org/blog/climate-change-impacting-future-coffee/ 5. Getachew Weldemichael and Demelash Teferi, “The Impact of Climate Change on Coffee (Coffea arabica L.) Production and Genetic Resources,” International Journal of Research Studies in Agricultural Sciences (IJRSAS) 5, 11, (2019): 26-34, DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.20431/2454-6224.0511004. 6. Michon Scott, “Climate and Coffee,” Science Information for a climate-smart nation, published 19 June 2015, https://www.climate.gov/news-features/climate-and/climate-coffee 7. Brett Inder and Nan Qu, Coffee in Timor-Leste : What do we know ? What can we do ?, (Australia: Monash University), 17. 8. Simon P.J Batterbury, Lisa R. Palmer, Thomas R. Reuter, Demetrio do Amaral de Carvalho, Balthasar Kehi and Alex Cullen, “Land access and livelihoods in post-conflict Timor-Leste: no magic bullets,” International Journal of the commons, 9, 2, (2015): 619-647. 9. Lisa Walker, Understanding Timor Leste, (Dili: Swinburne Press, 2013), 22-158. 10. Andrew Mahar, “Meet the farmers helping to reforest Timor-Leste,” World Economic Forum, published 26 January 2021, Meet the farmers helping to reforest Timor-Leste | World Economic Forum (weforum.org) 11. “The Roastery,” The Corner Store, accessed November 2021, https://cornerstorenetwork.org.au/the-roastery 12. Cheikh Mbow et al., Climate Change and Land: an IPCC special report on climate change, desertification, land degradation, sustainable land management, food security, and greenhouse gas fluxes in terrestrial ecosystems, (2019), https://www.ipcc.ch/site/assets/uploads/sites/4/2021/02/08_Chapter-5_3.pdf 13. Yen Pham, Kathryn Reardon-Smith, Shahbaz Mushtaq and Geoff Cockfield, “The impact of climate change and variability on coffee production: a systematic review”, Climatic Change, 156, (2019): 609-630, The impact of climate change and variability on coffee production: a systematic review | SpringerLink 14. Dani Valent, “ 'The industry's at risk': the high price of cheap coffees,” published 31 May 2019, national/the-industry-s-at-risk-the-high-price-of-cheap-coffees-20190528-p51rti.html Previous article back to DISORDER Next article