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< Back to Issue 5 Why Do We Gossip? Lily McCann 24 October 2023 Edited by Celina Kumala Illustrated by Rachel Ko Have you ever heard of ‘Scold’s bridle’? A metal restraint, fitted with a gag, that was strapped about the face as a medieval punishment for excessive chatter; gossip, it seems, was not received too fondly in the Middle Ages. While the bridle may have gone out of fashion long ago, today the word gossip still carries negative connotations. The Oxford Dictionary, for instance, defines gossip as “informal talk or stories about other people’s private lives, that may be unkind or not true” (Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries, 2023). Entries in the Urban Dictionary use yet stronger terms, going so far as to describe gossip as the “garbage of stupid silly ignorant people” (Lorenzo, 2006). Is this too harsh? Cruz et al. (2021) propose a much more neutral definition in their analysis of frameworks to study gossip, concluding that gossip is “a sender communicating to a receiver about a target who is absent or unaware of the content”. Whether the gossip conveys positive or negative content — otherwise known as its valence — is not a requirement of the definition itself. Gossip, then, is not always “unkind” (Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries, 2023) or “garbage” (Lorenzo, 2006). In fact, with a bit of further reading, we can see that this “informal talk” has played an important part in our evolution and even serves positive purposes in society. In the first sense, gossip is an important facilitator of safety. It allows dangerous situations to be identified: spreading the knowledge that a certain individual is prone to violence, for instance, ensures the rest of a community takes care of their own safety with regards to that individual. On a different note, passing about the fact that another individual is skilled in certain aspects of resource procurement allows wider access to these resources. It is easy to see in these examples how gossip could give a selective advantage in the survival of societies. But the influence of gossip goes further than this. It has been shown that gossip in fact encourages cooperation and generosity (Wu et al., 2015). How? The crucial mediator is reputation (Nowak, 2006). Reputation is incredibly important - see Taylor Swift’s 2017 album for more. A poor reputation leads to ostracisation, and for an individual in prehistoric societies, this could be fatal. Cultivating a good reputation among peers thousands of years ago, as today, improves the chances of success in life by increasing access to resources and the willingness of others to help you. Positive gossip can facilitate all this. So, how do we foster positive gossip? What will encourage someone to put in a good word for us? The most effective approach is to act in a way that benefits that individual. It predisposes them to spread the word of our generosity, helping to build a reputation for goodness that will in turn have positive outcomes for ourselves. Thus, it’s easy to see how behaviours that foster good gossip are incentivised in our everyday lives. This propensity to spread the knowledge of how certain individuals interact with others has been incredibly impactful in the development of human societies. The fact that our species can flourish and sustain itself in such immense populations requires a high level of cooperation - which enables us to share resources and productivity - even with people we do not know. Otherwise known as indirect reciprocity, this ability to work with strangers is enabled by reputation (Nowak, 2006). How else do we know that it is safe to interact with a stranger, other than through the means of gossip, which informs us of their reliability and trustworthiness? But what about when gossip is incorrect? The Oxford definition hints at the possibility that information spread through gossip “may be…not true”. Can untrue gossip hinder our progress, by limiting interactions with individuals who may have the potential to help us, or promoting those interactions that would better have been avoided? And if gossip can be incorrect, does that not render reputation meaningless? What is the incentive to be good, if gossip could label you as a bad egg, regardless (Nieper et al., 2022)? Incorrectly negative gossip can be extremely impactful for the subject of that gossip. Studies have shown that it decreases productivity and prosocial behaviour - not to mention burdening victims with the psychological effects of ostracisation, injustice and loneliness (Kong, 2018; Martinescu et al., 2021). Through gossip, we can exert immense power over other beings. It is understandable, then, that we fear gossip, and try to discount it by painting it as “garbage” (Lorenzo, 2006), “unkind” or “not true” (Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries, 2023). And yet, whilst negative gossip can be a detriment, positive gossip can yield great benefits, reinforcing prosocial behaviour, fostering cooperation and promoting generosity. So, rather than fearing gossip, perhaps we ought to acknowledge its benefits and harness it for good. Perhaps it's worth considering how we can each use gossip to exert a bit of good upon our world. References Dores Cruz, T. D., Nieper, A. S., Testori, M., Martinescu, E., & Beersma, B. (2021). An Integrative Definition and Framework to Study Gossip. Group & Organization Management, 46(2), 252-285. http://doi.org/10.1177/1059601121992887 Kong, M. (2018). Effect of Perceived Negative Workplace Gossip on Employees’ Behaviors. Frontiers in Psychology , 9(2728). http://doi.org/10.3389/fpsyg.2018.01112 Lorenzo, A. (2006). Gossip . Urban Dictionary. Accessed October 10, 2023. https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=gossip Martinescu, E., Jansen, W., & Beersma, B. (2021). Negative Gossip Decreases Targets’ Organizational Citizenship Behavior by Decreasing Social Inclusion: A Multi-Method Approach. Group and Organization Management, 46(3), 463-497. http://doi.org/10.1177/1059601120986876 Oxford Learner’s Dictionaries. (2023). Gossip - definition . Accessed October 10, 2023. https://www.oxfordlearnersdictionaries.com/definition/american_english/gossip_1#:~:text=gossip-,noun,all%20the%20gossip%20you%20hear . Nieper, A. S., Beersma, B., Dijkstra, M. T. M., & van Kleef, G. A. (2022). When and why does gossip increase prosocial behavior? Current Opinion in Psychology, 44, 315-320. http://doi.org/10.1016/j.copsyc.2021.10.009 Nowak, M. A. (2006). Five Rules for the Evolution of Cooperation . Science, 314(5805), 1560-1563. http://doi.org/10.1126/science.1133755 Wu, J., Balliet, D., & Van Lange, P. A. M. (2015). When does gossip promote generosity? Indirect reciprocity under the shadow of the future. Social Psychological and Personality Science, 6(8), 923-930. http://doi.org/10.1177/1948550615595272 Wicked back to

< Back to Issue 7 Pointing the Way: A Triangular View of the World by Ingrid Sefton 22 October 2024 edited by Hendrick Lin illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin You, my friend, are living in a world created by triangles. Since the dawn of time, this humble three-sided polygon has quietly shaped the evolution of human civilisation. As you gaze around, you can likely spot a triangle or two tucked within your surroundings. This may be of no surprise to you. Externally, the triangle governs the material construction of our world, underpinning the foundations of countless engineering and architectural designs. Yet these more obvious physical constructions are just one contribution of this pointy, three-sided shape to modern society. Indeed, it is where the role of the triangle remains invisible that it harnesses the most power. Triangles have played an integral role in sailing and modern navigation systems, having enabled us to explore all corners of the Earth. Beyond this, let us not forget the massive contributions this shape has made to the development of 3D modelling, used everywhere from graphic design and animation to CGI. All thanks to the simple, unassuming triangle. The physical, the navigational and the digital. Three key sides of the triangle’s influence in shaping the modern world. The Physical The triangle's importance in the physical world stems from its inner strength. Unbeknownst to many, it is the strongest two-dimensional shape that exists, with its power amplified in three-dimensional polyhedrons derived from triangles. How can this unique strength be explained? Consider applying force to one corner, or apex, of a triangle. This force is distributed down either side of the triangle and as these sides are compressed, the base is stretched outwards. Weight can therefore be evenly dispersed across the shape, preventing it from bending and breaking (Saint Louis Science Center, 2020). It is for good reason that the triangular shape underpins many fundamental principles of architecture and design. Perhaps the most iconic of the structures that utilise this shape are the Pyramids of Giza, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World. Constructed in the early 25th Century BCE, they housed the tombs of ancient Egyptian pharaohs and are the last remaining Wonder that exists today. The tallest of the Pyramids, known as the Great Pyramid, originally soared as high as 147 metres above the ground, though today erosion has reduced it to 138 metres (Encylopedia Britannica, 2024a). This architectural feat was monumental for its time, and to this day, how exactly the Pyramids were constructed remains a hotly contested debate amongst archeologists and engineers. One proposition is that large ramps were used in conjunction with a complex system of ropes, sledges and levers to haul stone blocks up (Handwerk, 2023). Whatever the method of construction may have been, these ancient wonders have stood the test of time for over 4500 years - a remnant of one of humanity's first advanced civilisations that exemplifies the scale, strength and resilience of construction made possible by triangles. Triangles also play a crucial role in the construction of seemingly dissimilar shapes. This is highlighted in the case of geodesic structures - spheres constructed from a network of triangles approximating a rounded shape, like a soccer ball. First developed in the 20th Century by architect Richard Buckminster Fuller, these domes are lightweight and able to distribute stress across large, arching structures (Encylopedia Britannica, 2024b). Since Fuller’s earliest constructions, these domes have been widely utilised in the construction of stadiums, planetariums and even "glamping" accommodations. One notable example is the Eden Project - the world's largest biodome botanical garden in the United Kingdom, housing thousands of plant species over 5.5 acres of land (Eden Project, 2024). The interconnectedness of the triangles allows for maximum sunlight exposure across wide spaces, creating an ideal environment for plant photosynthesis and cultivation. Intriguingly, Fuller's use of triangles in this innovative manner led to a breakthrough in the far-away field of synthetic chemistry. Scientists Robert Curl, Harold Kroto and Richard Smalley discovered the nanomaterial Buckminsterfullerene, or “the Buckyball”, after the scientists realised the structure's similarity to Fuller's geodesic spheres (The Stanford Libraries, 2024). This led to the discovery of a new class of materials known as fullerenes. The scientists were subsequently awarded the 1996 Nobel Prize in Chemistry for elucidating this molecule’s structure (The Stanford Libraries, 2024). Balancing power with versatility, triangles form the crux of our built environments at both an atomic and architectural level. The Navigational Remember those sine and cosine formulas your maths teacher insisted had important real world applications? Turns out they weren’t kidding. Triangulation is the process of finding an unknown location of an object by forming a triangle between this object and two other reference points. Sine, cosine and tangent, the main trigonometric ratios, are used to relate the sides and angles formed within a right triangle and hence, determine the position of an unknown point. For centuries, humans have turned to triangles as a means to find their ways. Sailors, in particular, have long used landmarks and celestial objects like the stars to orient themselves at sea. By observing the angle between known locations (or stars) and using basic trigonometry, navigators could calculate distances and determine their precise location. Moving to a more global scale of navigation becomes a bit more complicated, as the Earth is a sphere and not a flat surface (although some may beg to differ…). A more advanced form of triangulation known as trilateration underpins the Global Positioning System (GPS) in order to determine three-dimensional coordinates of a receiver. Instead of angles, GPS utilises the time taken for radio signals sent from satellites to reach a receiving device on Earth. A connected system of navigation satellites circles the Earth, each sending out signals with the location and time it was sent by that satellite. By measuring the delay between the time of signal reception and the broadcast time, the distance from the receiver to each satellite can be computed (Federal Aviation Administration, 2024). Once distances to at least three satellites are known, the receiving device can determine its own three-dimensional position, employing similar techniques to triangulation. GPS data is not only used to guide your Google Map directions. Analysing the positions of satellite stations and their movements is a crucial tool for monitoring volcanic and seismic activity (Murray & Svarc, 2017). Recent breakthroughs have even suggested that there may be a future for utilising the GPS to detect earthquakes before they happen (Rao, 2023). From the seas to the skies, triangles allow us to push the boundaries of exploration while always guiding us home to safety. The Digital What does connect-the-dots have to do with triangles or 3D modelling? A connect-the-dots drawing begins with nothing but some labelled dots. Yet as each dot is joined by a straight line, a complex and curved picture emerges. The more dots you use, the smoother the picture looks. Consider now trying to design a three-dimensional surface. Just as you might use dots to approximate a curve, triangles serve as building blocks for constructing complex surfaces. By taking enough triangles and joining them at their edges, we too can approximate intricate and multidimensional structures. In 3D modelling, objects are represented as meshes - models consisting of vertices (points in 3D space) connected by edges to form polygons and thus, the surface of an object (Stanton, 2023). To define a flat surface oriented in a plane, a minimum of three distinct points are needed. Triangles are the simplest shape for constructing these planes as they are coplanar, meaning any three points in space will always form a flat surface (Licata & Licata, 2015). This makes them perfect for modelling complex 3D shapes out of interconnected triangles. Animation, gaming, graphic design and computer generated imagery (CGI) in movies are just some of the many varied applications that utilise these mesh modelling techniques to create intricate 3D models, with curved and highly detailed surfaces. Additionally, there exist efficient computer algorithms that are optimised to dissect objects into hundreds of thousands of flat triangles. A complex, digital representation of any object can therefore be easily portrayed as a simple collection of points and triangles. Combined with their simple geometric properties, triangles can then be processed quickly by modern Graphics Processing Units (GPUs), optimising their performance in real-time applications. Add in lighting, shading and smooth deformation, and you will find yourself with an intricate, three-dimensional model. Pointing the Way Forward For too long, the triangle has been overshadowed by its more popular cousin, the square. Yet, what is a square? Two triangles put together. The simplicity of this three-sided shape allows it to integrate within our society, with its contributions often invisible to the naked eye. From the physical, to the navigational and the digital, modern human society is built on the triangle. Maybe that trigonometry class wasn’t so pointless after all. References Eden Project (2024). Eden Project's Mission . https://www.edenproject.com/mission/origins Encylopedia Britannica (2024a). Great Pyramid of Giza . https://www.britannica.com/place/Great-Pyramid-of-Giza Encylopedia Britannica (2024b). Geodesic Dome. https://www.britannica.com/technology/geodesic-dome Federal Aviation Administration (2024). Satellite Navigation - GPS - How It Works . United States Department of Transportation. https://www.faa.gov/about/office_org/headquarters_offices/ato/service_units/techops/navservices/gnss/gps/howitworks Handwerk, B. (2023). The Pyramids at Giza were built to endure an eternity—but how? National Geographic. https://www.nationalgeographic.com/history/article/giza-pyramids Licata, J., & Licata, A. (2015). From triangles to computer graphics . ABC Science. https://www.abc.net.au/science/articles/2015/06/10/4251713.htm Murray, J. R., & Svarc, J. (2017). Global Positioning System Data Collection, Processing, and Analysis Conducted by the U.S. Geological Survey Earthquake Hazards Program. Seismological Research Letters , 88 (3), 916-925. https://doi.org/10.1785/0220160204 Rao, R. (2023). GPS satellites may be able to detect earthquakes before they happen . Space. https://www.space.com/earthquake-prediction-gps-satellite-data Saint Louis Science Center (2020). The Secret Strength of Triangles . https://www.slsc.org/the-secret-strength-of-triangles/ Stanton, A. (2023). Exploring the World of 3D Modeling: Solid vs. Mesh Modeling . Cadmore. https://cadmore.com/blog/solid-vs-mesh-modeling-differences The Stanford Libraries (2024). What is a geodesic dome? Stanford University. https://exhibits.stanford.edu/bucky/feature/what-is-a-geodesic-dome Previous article Next article apex back to

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< Back to Issue 7 Timeless Titans: Billionaires defying death by Holly McNaughton 22 October 2024 edited by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo illustrated by Esme MacGillivray Humans are destined to face an unavoidable end, but what if we weren't? What if humans could push the boundaries of death and become "un-ageable"? What would be the consequences if the world's top apex predators became immortal? The concept of anti-ageing and the quest for eternal life is not new. Cleopatra supposedly bathed in donkeys’ milk to reduce wrinkles. The first emperor of the Qin dynasty (221-206 B.C.), tried to achieve immortality by taking pills. Unfortunately for him, the key ingredient was the highly toxic substance—mercury. In 16th century France, members of the nobility would drink gold to preserve youthful looks. Much like in the past, today’s leading figures in the anti-ageing field are those with power and wealth. Today, the same obsessive quest for youth persists, but now it is backed by cutting-edge science and more importantly, staggering wealth. This article delves into the latest anti-ageing trends—pills, specialised diets, and more—championed by modern-day billionaires. We’ll explore the innovations they fund, and more provocatively, what it means for humanity when death is no longer inevitable. Anti-ageing pills The first “key” to anti-ageing is metformin, which dates to the1920s and was first discovered in the medicinal herb Galega officinalis . It lowers blood sugar levels and is taken as a popular treatment for type 2 diabetes (Bailey, 2017). Metformin works by tricking your body into thinking there is not enough energy, lowering blood glucose levels, and helping the insulin your body makes to work better. In a 2014 clinical study, patients with type 2 diabetes initiated with metformin had longer survivals than non-diabetics who did not receive the drug (Bannister et al. 2014). Although this is a correlation, not causation, some studies state Metformin has increased lifespan in mice (Martin-Montalvo et al., 2013). While we are anticipating the results of a trial on the effects on humans, and particularly the effects on non-diabetic lifespan, some are already convinced by the results from preliminary studies, such as Byran Johnson. Johnson is a self-proclaimed Professional Rejuvenation Athlete and founder of Project Blueprint. The Blueprint protocol is an extensive regimen of exercise, health tests, supplements, and a strict diet, to reverse biological age. Bryan has been following the protocol since 2021 and has successfully slowed down his rate of ageing to 0.76, meaning that for every year, Bryan is only ageing 277 days. Luckily, it only costs him 2 million a year. As part of the protocol, Bryan takes several prescription drugs daily, including metformin twice a day and rapamycin. Rapamycin is another promising “key” anti-ageing drug that works as a mTOR inhibitor. mTOR is a key component in cell growth, proliferation and survival. By inhibiting mTOR, cell growth and protein synthesis processes are slowed, thus reducing the chance of pathology (disease and/or injury) of cells and tissues. It has been shown to extend the lifespan of mice, yeast, worms and fruit flies (Harrison et al., 2009) and in 2018, elderly humans given rapamycin showed promising results with improvement in immune function and decreased infection rates (Mannick et al., 2018), which could ultimately lead to longer lifespans. Young blood transfusion Throughout history, blood has been a popular anti-ageing remedy. In the 15th century, Pope Innocent VIII drank the blood of three young boys, to heal his ailments (Scott & DeFrancesco, 2015). It did not work. The term “Young Blood transfusion” is now used to refer to the practice of transfusing blood from a young person into an older one to tackle age-related diseases. The rationale comes from parabiosis experiments. Parabiosis is the anatomical and physiological union of two organisms, and in the 1950s it was performed on two mice, surgically stitched together. A month after the procedure, the older mice showed rejuvenation (Conboy et al., 2005). In 2017, a new startup called Ambrosia emerged offering transfusion from young people at $8,000 a session. According to the U.S Food and Drug Administration, there were no clinical benefits of this treatment, and it was shortly shut down. PayPal founder Peter Thiel believes he will live to be 120 years old; a fan of young blood transfusions, he also credits his future success to taking human growth hormones daily and following a strict paleo diet. The science of which diet is best for anti-ageing is constantly changing. The paleo diet cuts out sugar, carbohydrates and highly processed food and is praised by celebs, but is not currently supported by science for having anti-aging benefits. Other diets such as intermittent fasting, keto and veganism are all praised for their anti-aging properties, but again the claims are under-researched. However, there is a growing body of evidence that a whole-food, plant-based diet can aid in the prevention, and in some cases reversal, of chronic diseases (Solway et al., 2020). For example, in Loma Linda, California, one of the world's five original blue zones (areas of the world with the healthiest, longest-living populations), the life expectancy is 10 years longer than the average American, which has been linked to the high number of Adventist vegetarians in the community. The key link between all five blue zones is a mostly whole-food, plant-based diet. Ethical and social implications – consequences of immortal humans The cure to ageing is still a while away but there is already a growing body of evidence of how we can extend our lifespans, but is that a good idea? The first argument against extending human lifespans is the risk of furthering the gaps in inequality. There is already a 30–40-year life expectancy gap between first-world and third-world countries. As highlighted in this article, it is primarily the wealthy benefiting from advancements in anti-ageing. Although, it is the responsibility of politicians and governments to remove the disparities worldwide. Thus, the question arises – should our focus and resources be directed towards addressing the health crises in developing countries instead? The second argument is overpopulation. An interesting study that looked at a 100-year projection of population size if no one aged after 60 showed that total population size only increased by 22% or 9 million to 11 million (Gavrilov & Gavrilova, 2010). They also pointed out that many members of society may choose to reject new anti-ageing technologies due to religious reasons, fear of side effects and/or costs. I would also like to point out that the world’s declining birth rates due to increased fertility issues may also mean overpopulation won’t be a near-future issue. An increasing population size does however mean increased demand for finite resources like water. Increases in water demand could cause an increase in civil and international conflicts over existing water supplies. In Australia, water scarcity is already a persistent issue, given the relatively dry and variable climate and an increased population size will see demand rise above our limits. To conclude, science has not found a cure for mortality, but with the development in age reversal or anti-ageing science, we may see the longevity of life increasing as well as quality of life. There are several ethical and social implications of an “un-ageable” race, but most importantly, developments in the anti-ageing community may allow loved ones to be healthier for longer. References AIHW, Australian Institute of Health and Welfare. (2024). Deaths in Australia. Retrieved from https://www.aihw.gov.au/reports/life-expectancy-deaths/deaths-in-australia Bannister, C. A., Holden, S. E., Jenkins-Jones, S., Morgan, C. L., Halcox, J. P., Schernthaner, G.,Mukherjee, J., & Currie, C. J. (2014). Can people with type 2 diabetes live longer than those without? A comparison of mortality in people initiated with metformin or sulphonylurea monotherapy and matched, non-diabetic controls. Diabetes Obes Metab , 16 (11), 1165-1173. https://doi.org/10.1111/dom.12354 Bailey, C. J. (2017). Metformin: historical overview. Diabetologia , 60 (9), 1566-1576. Conboy, I. M., Conboy, M. J., Wagers, A. J., Girma, E. R., Weissman, I. L., & Rando, T. A. (2005). Rejuvenation of aged progenitor cells by exposure to a young systemic environment. Nature , 433 (7027), 760-764. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature03260 Gavrilov, L. A., & Gavrilova, N. S. (2010). Demographic consequences of defeating aging. Rejuvenation Res , 13 (2-3), 329-334. https://doi.org/10.1089/rej.2009.0977 doi.org Metformin: historical overview - Diabetologia Metformin (dimethylbiguanide) has become the preferred first-line oral blood glucose-lowering agent to manage type 2 diabetes. Its history is linked to Galega officinalis (also known as goat’s rue), a traditional herbal medicine in Europe, found to be rich in guanidine, which, in 1918, was shown to lower blood glucose. Guanidine derivatives, including metformin, were synthesised and some (not metformin) were used to treat diabetes in the 1920s and 1930s but were discontinued due to toxicity and the increased availability of insulin. Metformin was rediscovered in the search for antimalarial agents in the 1940s and, during clinical tests, proved useful to treat influenza when it sometimes lowered blood glucose. This property was pursued by the French physician Jean Sterne, who first reported the use of metformin to treat diabetes in 1957. However, metformin received limited attention as it was less potent than other glucose-lowering biguanides (phenformin and buformin), which were generally discontinued in the late 1970s due to high risk of lactic acidosis. Metformin’s future was precarious, its reputation tarnished by association with other biguanides despite evident differences. The ability of metformin to counter insulin resistance and address adult-onset hyperglycaemia without weight gain or increased risk of hypoglycaemia gradually gathered credence in Europe, and after intensive scrutiny metformin was introduced into the USA in 1995. Long-term cardiovascular benefits of metformin were identified by the UK Prospective Diabetes Study (UKPDS) in 1998, providing a new rationale to adopt metformin as initial therapy to manage hyperglycaemia in type 2 diabetes. Sixty years after its introduction in diabetes treatment, metformin has become the most prescribed glucose-lowering medicine worldwide with the potential for further therapeutic applications. Harrison, D. E., Strong, R., Sharp, Z. D., Nelson, J. F., Astle, C. M., Flurkey, K., Nadon, N. L., Wilkinson, J. E., Frenkel, K., Carter, C. S., Pahor, M., Javors, M. A., Fernandez, E., & Miller, R. A. (2009). Rapamycin fed late in life extends lifespan in genetically heterogeneous mice. Nature , 460 (7253), 392-395. https://doi.org/10.1038/nature08221 Martin-Montalvo, A., Mercken, E. M., Mitchell, S. J., Palacios, H. H., Mote, P. L., Scheibye-Knudsen, M., Gomes, A. P., Ward, T. M., Minor, R. K., Blouin, M. J., Schwab, M., Pollak, M., Zhang, Y., Yu, Y., Becker, K. G., Bohr, V. A., Ingram, D. K., Sinclair, D. A., Wolf, N. S., . . . de Cabo, R. (2013). Metformin improves healthspan and lifespan in mice. Nat Commun , 4 , 2192. https://doi.org/10.1038/ncomms3192 Mannick, J. B., Morris, M., Hockey, H.-U. P., Roma, G., Beibel, M., Kulmatycki, K., Watkins, M., Shavlakadze, T., Zhou, W., Quinn, D., Glass, D. J., & Klickstein, L. B. (2018). TORC1 inhibition enhances immune function and reduces infections in the elderly. Science Translational Medicine , 10 (449), eaaq1564. https://doi.org/doi:10.1126/scitranslmed.aaq1564 Scott, C., & DeFrancesco, L. (2015). Selling Long Life. Nature Biotechnology , 33 , 28-37. Solway, J., McBride, M., Haq, F., Abdul, W., & Miller, R. (2020). Diet and Dermatology: The Role of a Whole-food, doi.org Selling long life - Nature Biotechnology A new generation of commercial entities is beginning to explore opportunities for new types of interventions and services in a graying world. Plant-based Diet in Preventing and Reversing Skin Aging-A Review. J Clin Aesthet Dermatol , 13 (5), 38-43. Poganik, J. R., Zhang, B., Baht, G. S., Tyshkovskiy, A., Deik, A., Kerepesi, C., Yim, S. H., Lu, A. T.,Haghani, A., Gong, T., Hedman, A. M., Andolf, E., Pershagen, G., Almqvist, C., Clish, C. B., Horvath, S., White, J. P., & Gladyshev, V. N. (2023). Biological age is increased by stress and restored upon recovery. Cell Metab , 35 (5), 807-820.e805. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cmet.2023.03.015 Previous article Next article apex back to

< Back to Issue 2 Law and Order: Medically Supervised Injecting Centres Keeping people safe from the harms of drug use is an important public health goal, but some question the value of medically supervised injecting centres in improving health and community outcomes. by Caitlin Kane 10 December 2021 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic & Natalie Cierpisz Illustrated by Rachel Ko Medically supervised injecting centres (MSICs) are an exemption from the standard practices of law and order: instead of policing drug users, these facilities allow people to bring illegal drugs to dedicated, clean settings where they can legally inject themselves and receive medical care if required. Essentially, drugs like heroin and ice can be used in a safer environment often integrated with other health and welfare services. These centres aim to improve public health and amenity outcomes, but are criticised for facilitating drug use. Australia’s MSICs have been controversial since their inception. The first local MSIC opened in Kings Cross, Sydney in 2001, following a Vatican intervention to withdraw nuns and the arrest of a Reverend for opening a short-lived unsanctioned injecting facility (1,2). Local businesses and residents feared a nearby “safe haven for drug users” would accelerate rampant and disruptive public drug use and threatened last-minute legal action (3). The centre is still in operation and has now supervised more than one million injections without a single overdose fatality (1,4). Medical director Dr Marianne Jauncey explained how the Kings Cross centre saves lives in a discussion with the ABC this year (5). Yet before Australia’s second MSIC opened in Richmond, Melbourne in 2018, commentators continued to decry the proposition as accepting and passively encouraging drug use. Nationals MP Emma Kealy announced, "It sends the wrong message to our kids and effectively says we've given up on preventing drug use” (6). With consultation ongoing to establish a third Australian MSIC in the Melbourne city centre, it’s valuable to detangle the misconceptions around the effects of MSICs on communities and their value as public health tools. Much controversy around Australia’s MSICs centres on three concerns: the number of overdoses occurring on premises, the attraction of drug addicts to the areas, and the drain on public health resources. Examining the data collected by public health scientists demonstrates that these concerns are unfounded and supports the continued consideration of MSICs as effective public health interventions. WHAT EFFECT DO MSICS HAVE ON OVERDOSES? It’s critical to understand that MSICs are proposed for areas with heavy drug use, particularly use in public settings and causing medical emergencies like overdoses. At the turn of the millennium, the streets of Kings Cross were a major site of public drug use, overdoses, and ambulance callouts (7). In 2000, one spate of thirty-five Sydney overdoses, four fatal, occurred in a single twenty-four hour period (3). At the time, 10% of all drug overdoses in Australia occurred in Kings Cross (3). In response, the Kings Cross MSIC opened in 2001 following decades of mounting evidence in Europe. European drug injection centres had been operating since the 1970s, with growing official support through the 1990s in countries like the Netherlands, Switzerland, and Germany (2). Evaluations reported successful reductions in public nuisance, improved service access, and declining overdose deaths (2). Switzerland demonstrated annual overdose deaths halved in four years and a tenfold reduced chance of hospital admission in MSIC overdoses compared to overdoses on the streets (2,3). Similarly, the Richmond MSIC opened in 2018 as a response to the highest heroin death toll in sixteen years and record ice deaths in 2016, with the major drug market in Richmond considered the “epicentre of Melbourne’s heroin crisis” (8). It could be easy to criticise the overdoses occurring on the MSIC premises, but these overdoses predated the MSICs and prompted their opening after other strategies failed to address the crisis. As public health interventions, MSICs are most effective in areas with high densities of public drug use, like Kings Cross and Richmond, which is why these sites were chosen to house MSICs (7). A systematic review of studies covering a range of MSIC facilities, including Kings Cross, concluded that all facilities had a significant reduction in overdose deaths in their local area (9). Ambulance callouts for overdoses near Kings Cross decreased by 68% within six years of opening (9). In Richmond, emergency medical attendances to drug overdoses near the MSIC have decreased significantly. Only 30 of the 2657 overdoses treated at the MSIC in its first eighteen months led to ambulance attendance and there has been a 25% decrease in naloxone administration, a treatment for opioid overdose, by ambulances in the one kilometre radius of the MSIC (10). The impact of drug overdoses in these areas has been greatly mediated by the presence of the MSICs. In 2017, the Kings Cross MSIC celebrated one million injections with zero fatal overdoses (1). The lack of a single overdose death at these facilities despite the number of overdoses should be considered a mark of commendation (1,5,10,11). DO MSICS ATTRACT DRUG USERS TO THE AREA? A second concern is that MSICs attract drug addicts to the area in which they are situated. However, this misattribution of causality arises because MSICs are purposefully located in areas with pre- existing drug markets. Major drug markets create local hotspots of public injection as many drug users inject immediately to reduce withdrawal and avoid police attention (7). These areas of high public drug use became candidates for the establishment of MSICs because drug users already frequented the area. Before the MSIC opened, over 90% of ambulances attendances for overdoses in Kings Cross were within a 300 metre radius of the proposed MSIC location. The area was chosen for an MSIC because of the existing disruption caused by public drug use and overdose. Improving public amenity, such as decreasing encounters with discarded needles, drug injection and overdose, is one of the most important goals of MSICs (2,11). Despite initial outrage in Kings Cross, support for the centre among local businesses increased to 70% in 2005, and local perceptions were positive (11,12). Monitoring of the area found no increase in drug-related crime, dealing or loitering after the Kings Cross MSIC opened (11). This is also supported by more recent findings in 2017, that alongside improving local amenity and reducing ambulance callouts, the Kings Cross MSIC did not draw dealers and addicts to the area in a ‘honey pot’ effect (6). This was corroborated by a systematic analysis which found no increase in drug-related violence and crime related to MSICs in Sydney and Vancouver across the results of four studies (9). The same review concluded that MSICs do not promote drug use, crime, drug trafficking, or increase new drug users (9). Likewise, demand for the Richmond MSIC was created by the existing Richmond drug market and disruption to the community, with 46 of 49 local stakeholders found to support a proposed MSIC in a 2017 consultation (11). Alongside harm minimisation, one submission highlighted the “significant toll on health workers and members of the local community who have to deal with the aftermath of overdoses and for children to see people in public in such a terrible state” as motivating their support for establishing a Richmond MSIC (11). Since opening, concern that additional people would travel to use the centre was abated by findings that travel distance was a major reason for not attending the MSIC and residential information collected from Richmond MSIC users (10). Regarding public amenity, an evaluation found mixed results in its eighteen months of operation, with reduced sightings of public injections and incidents at the neighbouring school, but decreased perception of safety and community support for the MSIC (10). It remains to be seen how this trend develops with continued operation of the centre. DO MSICS DRAIN PUBLIC HEALTH RESOURCES? While the primary goal of MSICs is to reduce the harms associated with overdose and public drug injection, MSICs have broader public impact through integration with complementary social and medical services. People who inject drugs are subject to associated harms, ranging from increased risks of blood-borne diseases (HIV, HBV, HCV) and psychiatric disorders to homelessness, crime, and prostitution (2,10). This socially marginalised group often lacks adequate access to healthcare, despite the significantly increased risks of harm and death (9). Analysis of the Vancouver MSIC found the streamlined and preventative healthcare provided to drug users was quantifiably more effective and saved both millions of dollars and 920 years of life over 10 years (9). In 2008, an economic review of the Kings Cross MSIC determined that averted health costs alone made significant savings for the government, and the value of prevented deaths would pay for operating costs more than 30 times (13). Furthermore, unprecedented access to drug users can facilitate important research to investigate and validate public health issues and strategies. For example, a 2017 paper analysed the rates and severity of overdoses for illicit and prescription opioids with data from the Sydney MSIC, producing clinically salient research enabled by access to marginalised and vulnerable populations (14). Alongside reductions in ambulance callouts and overdose complications which are instead managed at the centre, MSICs can improve the reach and delivery of health and social services for drug users, including blood-borne disease screening, drug treatment and rehabilitation, and mental health counselling (9,10). Engagement with MSICs and integrated services promoted safer injecting practices, health and social service use, and entry to treatment programs. The overall proportion of MSIC-attending drug users in treatment programs was 93%, compared to 61% of first-time attendees at the facility, demonstrating the improved effectiveness of reaching drug users with healthcare programs (15). Across seven studies on drug user uptake of MSICs, 75% of drug users reported improvements in their behaviours regarding public amenity and safe injection (9). This effect was particularly strong for marginalised and at-risk attendees, like those who were homeless, Indigenous, had previously overdosed, and others with self-identified need (15). MSICs contribute massively to overall public health strategy, through both direct harm reduction and efficiently increasing access to existing services. BEYOND MEDICALLY SUPERVISED INJECTING CENTRES MSICs in Australia and across the world have been successful in achieving their objectives; reducing drug-associated harms and community exposure to public injection and overdose (9,12). The continued controversy around MSICs despite their established and validated success betrays widespread misunderstanding around the nature of addiction, the effective treatment and harm reduction for drug abuse. In 2017, despite the support of three coronial recommendations and the Australian Medical Association for a Richmond MSIC, MP Tim Smith asked, “Since when did we start rewarding people who break the law, since when did drug users become victims, we need to enforce the law" (6,8). Political discourse that distorts the goals of MSICs and distracts from their established efficacy only serves to stagnate evidence-based action and weaken Australia’s response to damaging drug use. While MSICs attract stagnating attention and controversy, public health issues around drug addiction and opioid dependency remain unaddressed (16). In Australia, prescription drug abuse causes ten times more overdose deaths than illicit drug abuse, and prescription opioids provides a pathway to the use of illegal opioids, like heroin and fentanyl (14,16). As seen in the 2017 investigation into the prevalence and consequences of opioid overdoses in the Kings Cross MSIC, prescription opioid injection is a significant form of harmful drug use (14). MSICs are a useful and effective tool to combat drug abuse, but are not intended to solve all drug-pertinent problems; they must be incorporated into broader public health and crime strategies (9). Drug abuse is a seriously complicated problem, so it makes sense to have misconceptions around the impacts of MSICs. Effective drug policy needs to consider MSICs as a component of a broader public health strategy and educate the public about responses to drug abuse. It’s critical for communities and decision-makers to stay informed and choose evidence-based strategies to address the public health and amenity goals around drug use. References: Alcohol and Drug Foundation. ‘Medically Supervised Injecting Centres - Alcohol and Drug Foundation’. Accessed 1 December 2021. https://adf.org.au/insights/medically-supervised-injecting-centres/. Dolan, Kate, Jo Kimber, Craig Fry, John Fitzgerald, David McDonald, and Franz Trautmann. ‘Drug Consumption Facilities in Europe and the Establishment of Supervised Injecting Centres in Australia’. Drug and Alcohol Review 19, no. 3 (2000): 337–46. https://doi.org/10.1080/713659379. Barkham, Patrick. ‘Sydney Gets Safe Haven for Drug Users’. The Guardian, 4 September 2000, sec. World news. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2000/sep/04/patrickbarkham. ‘20th Anniversary of Sydney’s Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Accessed 9 December 2021. https://www.uniting.org/blog-newsroom/newsroom/news-releases/20th-anniversary-of-sydney-s-medically-supervised-injecting-cent. The Kings Cross Supervised Injecting Facility Marks Its 20th Anniversary. ABC News, 2021. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-05-06/united-medically-supervised-injecting-centre-20th-anniversary/13332878. Carey, Adam. ‘“People Are Dying”: Trial of Safe Injecting Room Blocked by Andrews Government’. The Age, 7 September 2017. https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/people-are-dying-trial-of-safe-injecting-room-blocked-by-andrews-government-20170907-gycmiu.html. Uniting. ‘History of the Uniting Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Accessed 9 December 2021. https://www.uniting.org/community-impact/uniting-medically-supervised-injecting-centre--msic/history-of-uniting-msic. Willingham, Richard. ‘Renewed Calls for Safe Injecting Room as Victoria’s Heroin Death Toll Reaches 16-Year High.’ ABC News, 27 October 2017. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-27/spike-in-heroin-deaths-in-victoria-safe-injecting-rooms/9092660. Potier, Chloé, Vincent Laprévote, Françoise Dubois-Arber, Olivier Cottencin, and Benjamin Rolland. ‘Supervised Injection Services: What Has Been Demonstrated? A Systematic Literature Review’. Drug and Alcohol Dependence 145 (1 December 2014): 48–68. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2014.10.012. Department of Health. Victoria, Australia. ‘Medically Supervised Injecting Room Trial - Review Panel Full Report’. State Government of Victoria, Australia, 25 June 2020. http://www.health.vic.gov.au/publications/medically-supervised-injecting-room-trial-review-panel-full-report. Victoria, Parliament, Legislative Council, and Legal and Social Issues Committee. Inquiry into the Drugs, Poisons and Controlled Substances Amendment (Pilot Medically Supervised Injecting Centre) Bill 2017. East Melbourne, Vic: Victorian Government Printer, 2017. Salmon, Allison M., Hla-Hla Thein, Jo Kimber, John M. Kaldor, and Lisa Maher. ‘Five Years on: What Are the Community Perceptions of Drug-Related Public Amenity Following the Establishment of the Sydney Medically Supervised Injecting Centre?’ International Journal of Drug Policy 18, no. 1 (1 January 2007): 46–53. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2006.11.010. SAHA. ‘NSW Health Economic Evaluation of the Medically Supervised Injection Centre at Kings Cross (MSIC)’, August 2008. https://www.uniting.org/content/dam/uniting/documents/community-impact/uniting-msic/MSIC-Final-Report-26-9-08-Saha.pdf. Roxburgh, Amanda, Shane Darke, Allison M. Salmon, Timothy Dobbins, and Marianne Jauncey. ‘Frequency and Severity of Non-Fatal Opioid Overdoses among Clients Attending the Sydney Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Drug and Alcohol Dependence 176 (1 July 2017): 126–32. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2017.02.027. Belackova, Vendula, Edmund Silins, Allison M. Salmon, Marianne Jauncey, and Carolyn A. Day. ‘“Beyond Safer Injecting”—Health and Social Needs and Acceptance of Support among Clients of a Supervised Injecting Facility’. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 16, no. 11 (January 2019): 2032. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph16112032. Fitzgerald, Bridget. ‘Drug Overdoses Killed More than 2,000 Australians for the Fifth Consecutive Year, Report Finds’. ABC News, 31 August 2020. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-08-31/more-than-2000-australians-lost-their-lives-due-to-overdose-2018/12612058. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 8 Terror Birds: The Discovery of Prolific Hunters by Jason Chien 3 June 2025 Edited by Luci Ackland Illustrated by Max Yang It began in the 1880s with a toothless jaw. And then some leg and hip bones and a vertebra were found. The leg bones, comparable in size to those of African ostriches, also bore similarities to fossils of the unrelated, giant, flightless Gastornis birds of Europe. Across the 1880s and 1890s, these discoveries slowly led archaeologists to realise they were dealing with a hitherto unknown group of giant, fearsome birds (1). With more complete fossil specimens subsequently discovered and clues provided by their unique morphologies, it did not take long for paleontologists to realise that all members of the “terror birds”, or Phorusrhacids, were carnivores, and that some were apex predators. Through isotopic dating of sediments in which terror bird fossils were found, paleontologists concluded that this taxonomic family existed from 43 million years ago (mya) – possibly even earlier – until their extinction 100,000 years ago (although no single species of Phorusrhacids survived this long) (2,3). Various fossils have since been found in South America and deemed to belong to Phorusrhacids species. Though most fossils have been found in Argentina, they have also been found in Brazil, Uruguay, Chile, Bolivia, Peru, the Southern United States and most recently, in Colombia. Throughout South America, there are various more fossils currently being discovered, some of which are being assigned to new species. At the moment, there are at least 18 characterised species, with some fossil-described species in contention of belonging to Phorusrhacids (4). Although size differed between species, there are morphological features common to all Phorusrhacids. Species such as Kelenken guillermoi , Phorusrhacos longissimus , and a few individuals of the North American Titanis walleri were giants at least 2 meters tall, weighing more than 100kg. Meanwhile, the shorter North American Titanis walleri was 1.4 to 1.9m in height and weighed an impressive 150kg (5,6). At the other extreme, the comparatively tiny Psilopterus bachmanni weighed only 4.5kg (7)! Smaller Phorusrhacids preyed on small vertebrates and invertebrates, with some species perhaps capable of short flight durations, filling a different predator niche than their larger counterparts (7). Though the prehistoric South American environment, unlike today's, was generally grasslands and woodlands, different Phorusrhacids species lived in distinct habitats. These differences include variation in aridity, as well as differences in the large and small prey present in different localities (8). Furthermore, Earth’s overall climate also varied during the more than 40 million years in which terror birds were present, such that the habitats of different terror bird species living in different periods of geologic time also differed. Reconstruction of some specifics of each locality’s prehistoric environment is not always possible (9). Lastly, the earliest and latest discovered fossils of each species indicate the period during which a species survived, but the boundary at which a species becomes distinctly different from an ancestral species is not always clear (10). Here are some terror birds whose habitats are better understood: Phorusrhacos longissimus : an environment with water bodies and a mix of open and enclosed areas. For instance, the first discovered terror bird fossils originated from longissimus individuals living in what was later reconstructed to be temperate forests and bushlands. This bird survived during parts of the Miocene period (23 mya to 5 mya) (8,10) Titanis Walleri : Tropical grasslands with springs, similar to today’s Florida. This species lived in a more unique environment than other terror birds, from 5 mya to 1.8 mya (5,6) But what did all the terror birds, large and small, have in common regarding how they hunted? From the structure of the terror birds’ legs, feet and hips, a paleontologist can infer features that suggest some terror birds were fast runners (11), or otherwise had limbs adapted for running. Despite natural uncertainties associated with paleontology, there is some headway into the running speeds of some terror bird species. For instance, the running speed of the 1m tall, 45kg Patagornis marshi was estimated to be 50 km/h (12,13), more than enough to chase down their prey. Once the prey was chased down, some terror birds would use their powerful legs to kick and incapacitate it, as suggested by features indicating strength in the bones of some species (14). Furthermore, some terror bird species possessed sharp claws, which are thought to have been used to stab prey (14). Though not all terror birds – especially the smaller species – were fast runners, all terror birds used their beaks when hunting, relying on beak strikes rather than the biting force used by many other birds. Their long necks were able to be flexed far backwards and forwards, allowing them to frontally strike prey repeatedly and powerfully with their beaks. Unlike that of many other birds, their ancestors and even their closest living relatives (the seriemas), the skull structure of most terror bird species is such that there is no moveable hinge between the upper beak and the skull due to the fusion of some bones in that region. This adaptation allows the skulls of Phorusrhacids to specifically resist loads from striking prey without suffering damage – though only if the strikes are precise (15). Other interesting features of the terror birds include gaze stabilisation and their hearing capacity. Based on their inner ear anatomies, the terror birds had the capacity for fast head movements while maintaining sight on their prey, evidencing their agility. Further evidence from the inner ear anatomies indicate the enhanced ability of the terror birds to hear low frequency sounds. Low frequency sound waves can travel a longer distance and are less affected by obstacles that absorb and scatter sound, allowing the terror birds to hear prey far out of sight. If terror birds were capable of producing low frequency sound as well, this would have enabled them to communicate from long distances apart (11). If one were to picture the heterogeneity of the terror bird species, they would probably imagine a predator in the act of hunting, or doing something else. In periods of geologic time with the greatest terror bird diversity, you may even be able to picture individuals of two different terror bird species, though you wouldn’t see two species of apex predator terror birds together (10). However, if you were to imagine beyond the bird, you would wonder how the flora, the other animals present, the climate, and many more all played a role in the story of the terror birds. Tracing the lineages of the Phorusrhacids backwards, one would reach a bird capable of flight. The characteristic of complete flightlessness arose specifically in large Phorusrhacids species, which were apex predators that consumed large mammals (10). The extinction of dinosaurs, and the absence of large placental carnivores in South America from 65 mya to 3 mya, made the apex predator niche unfilled (16). Subsequently, they started to be filled by the ancestors of large Phorusrhacids. But with diverse fauna, why did terror birds become one of the apex predators, and not many other animal groups, for instance the South American marsupial mammals? It is a persistent evolutionary mystery in perhaps all of paleontology, with many possible explanations but few, if any, ways to test them (17). Two hypotheses have been proposed to explain the demise of the terror birds: the encroachment of North American fauna into South America beginning 9 mya; and the episode of global cooling that occurred 3 mya. Due to continental drift, the North and South American continents were drifting towards each other, with a land bridge formed by 3 mya, though the movement of some groups of animals across the gap began much earlier. Known as the Great American biotic exchange, North American placental carnivores, some of them large predators, moved into South America and rapidly diversified (9). The former hypothesis suggests that competition with these predators drove the terror birds to extinction. In the latter hypothesis, rapid cooling not only affected the terror birds, but also affected the ecosystems where the terror birds lived (9). Despite the lack of direct evidence that is able to resolve this uncertainty, the contingent belief is that the latter hypothesis is more likely to be true and that the encroachment of North American fauna in the former hypothesis had a small to none effect on the extinction of the terror birds (9,12). Attached to every bone and bone fragment is a history of discovery, of being dated, of measurement, of cataloging and sometimes, of reexamination. Every bone was once a part of the organism, each with the potential to yield valuable information. As a testament to how far science has come since the early days of fossil hunting, we now have a much larger cache of fossils to make comparisons to, we have the tools to model an organism’s mass and some of its biomechanics based on fossilised bones, and we even have the means to look at the bone structures under a light or electron microscope to infer some of an organism’s probable behavioural characteristics. The fact that we figured out this much about the birds is astounding. Fossils form only under specific conditions – an organism has to be buried before there is a chance of it being eaten and then covered with sediments in conditions where microorganisms that decompose the body cannot survive (such as anoxic environments). Scientists estimate that the fossil record contains less than 0.1% of all species that have ever lived (18)! Furthermore, it is common ecological knowledge that for every ecosystem, the population of apex predators is small and are less likely to be preserved in the fossil record. Many mysteries, ranging from their colours to their various behaviour, remain. Perhaps these mysteries are what deepen our curiosity and account for our fascination with these organisms. Still, we are truly fortunate to be able to infer so much from the terror birds’ unique morphology and get to know of them and their stories, beyond just what we imagine them to be. References Buffetaut, E. Who discovered the Phorusrhacidae? An episode in the history of avian palaeontology. In: Göhlich UB, Kroh A, editors. Proceedings of the 8th International Meeting Society of Avian Paleontology and Evolution; 2013 Dec 10; Naturhistorisches Museum Wien. Vienna (AT): Naturhistorisches Museum Wien, 2013 [cited 2025 May 12.]. p.123-134. Available from: https://verlag.nhm-wien.ac.at/buecher/2013_SAPE_Proceedings/10_Buffetaut.pdf Jones W, Rinderknecht A, Alvarenga H, Montenegro F, Ubilla M. The last terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae): new evidence from the late Pleistocene of Uruguay. PalZ [Internet]. 2018 Jun [cited 2025 May 12];92(2):365–72. Available from: http://link.springer.com/10.1007/s12542-017-0388-y Acosta Hospitaleche C, Jones W. Insights on the oldest terror bird (Aves, Phorusrhacidae) from the Eocene of Argentina. Historical Biology [Internet]. 2025 Feb [cited 2025 May 12];37(2):391–9. Available from: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/08912963.2024.2304592 Degrange FJ, Cooke SB, Ortiz‐Pabon LG, Pelegrin JS, Perdomo CA, Salas‐Gismondi R, et al. A gigantic new terror bird (Cariamiformes, Phorusrhacidae) from middle Miocene tropical environments of La Venta in northern South America. Papers in Palaeontology [Internet]. 2024 Nov [cited 2025 May 12];10(6):e1601. Available from: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/spp2.1601 Gould GC, Quitmyer IR. Titanis walleri : bones of contention. Bull Fla Mus Nat Hist. 2005 [cited 2025 May 12]. 45(4):201-229. Available from https://flmnhbulletin.com/index.php/flmnh/article/download/flmnh-vol45-no4-pp201-230/vol45-no4/1140 Baskin JA. The giant flightless bird Titanis walleri (Aves: Phorusrhacidae) from the Pleistocene coastal plain of south Texas. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology [Internet]. 1995 Dec 27 [cited 2025 May 12];15(4):842–4. Available from: http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02724634.1995.10011266 Degrange FJ, Noriega JI, Areta JI. Diversity and paleobiology of the Santacrucian birds. In: Bargo MS, Kay RF, Vizcaíno SF, editors. Early Miocene Paleobiology in Patagonia: High-Latitude Paleocommunities of the Santa Cruz Formation [Internet]. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; 2012 [cited 2025 May 13]. p. 138–55. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511667381.010 Vizcaíno SF, Bargo MS, Kay RF, Fariña RA, Di Giacomo M, Perry JMG, et al. A baseline paleoecological study for the Santa Cruz formation (Late–early miocene) at the Atlantic coast of Patagonia, Argentina. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology [Internet]. 2010 Jun [cited 2025 May 13];292(3–4):507–19. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.palaeo.2010.04.022 Prevosti FJ, Romano CO, Forasiepi AM, Hemming S, Bonini R, Candela AM, et al. New radiometric 40Ar–39Ar dates and faunistic analyses refine evolutionary dynamics of Neogene vertebrate assemblages in southern South America. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2021 May 10 [cited 2025 Jun 1];11(1):9830. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-021-89135-1 LaBarge TW, Gardner JD, Organ CL. The evolution and ecology of gigantism in terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae). Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2024 Apr 30 [cited 2025 May 13];291(2021):20240235. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2024.0235 Degrange FJ. Research: The “Terror Bird:” Paleobiology of a Fierce Bird. 2015. Accessed May 13, 2025. https://www.myfossil.org/research-the-terror-bird-paleobiology-of-a-fierce-bird/ Marsà JAG, Agnolín FL, Angst D, Buffetaut E. Paleohistological analysis of “terror birds” (Phorusrhacidae, Brontornithidae): Paleobiological Inferences. Diversity (14242818) [Internet]. 2025 Mar 1 [cited 2025 May 12];17(3):153. Available from: https://doi.org/10.3390/d17030153 Blanco RE, Jones WW. Terror birds on the run: a mechanical model to estimate its maximum running speed. Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2005 Sep 7 [cited 2025 May 13];272(1574):1769–73. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2005.3133 Melchor RN, Feola SF, Cardonatto MC, Espinoza N, Rojas-Manriquez MA, Herazo L. First terror bird footprints reveal functionally didactyl posture. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2023 Sep 30 [cited 2025 Jun 1];13(1):16474. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-023-43771-x Degrange FJ, Tambussi CP, Moreno K, Witmer LM, Wroe S. Mechanical analysis of feeding behavior in the extinct “terror bird” Andalgalornis steulleti (Gruiformes: Phorusrhacidae). Turvey ST, editor. PLoS ONE [Internet]. 2010 Aug 18 [cited 2025 Jun 1];5(8):e11856. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0011856 Marshall LG. Scientific American. 1994 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. The terror birds of south america. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/scientificamerican0294-90 Olson ME, Arroyo-Santos A. How to study adaptation(And why to do it that way). The Quarterly Review of Biology [Internet]. 2015 Jun [cited 2025 Jun 1];90(2):167–91. Available from: https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/10.1086/681438 How can I become a fossil? [Internet]. 2018 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. Available from: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180215-how-does-fossilisation-happen Previous article Next article Enigma back to

By Gavin Choong < Back to Issue 3 Love and Aliens By Gavin Choong 10 September 2022 Edited by Khoa-Anh Tran and Niesha Baker Illustrated by Ravon Chew Next Neither Daniel Love nor Brendan Thoms were Australian citizens, but they were both recognised as First Nations Australians by law. Under legislation, “aliens” who commit crimes with a sentence of over a year may be removed from the country. (1) Due to their non-citizenship, the then Minister for Home Affairs Peter Dutton classified these men as aliens and tried to deport them after they were convicted of serious crimes. This attempt failed. The High Court of Australia ruled, in the hotly contested landmark decision of Love v Commonwealth, that Indigenous Australians could not be considered aliens under Australian law because of the “spiritual connection” they hold with the lands and waters of the country we live in. (1) Effectively, this barred the deportation of Love and Thoms but also sent astronomical ripples through the fabric of our nation’s legal framework. This year, major challenges to the decision made in Love v Commonwealth have arisen. Of the arguments put forward, some protest the judicial activism of the judges – that is, them going above and beyond written law to produce a fairer ruling. For example, many contend the term spiritual connection bears no actual legal meaning. However, with a history dating back upwards of seventy-thousand years, two hundred and fifty languages and eight hundred dialects, complex systems of governance, deeply vested religious and spiritual beliefs, and a profound understanding of land, it would be ignorant to argue this rich culture should simply be disregarded in the face of the law. This article adopts a scientific lens and delves into an empirical basis for the spiritual connection Aboriginal Australians share with country, traversing from Dreamtime to spacetime and beyond. THE DREAMING: FROM NOTHING, EVERYTHING From nothing came everything. Nearly fourteen billion years ago, a zero-volume singularity held, tightly, all the energy, space, and time from our current universe. In the moment of creation, temperature and average energies were so extreme all four fundamental forces which shape the universe, as we know it, acted as one. Cosmological inflation followed, allowing for exponential expansion and rapid cooling. Within a picosecond, the four fundamental forces of nature – gravity, electromagnetism, weak interactions, and strong interactions – emerged independently. These forces interacted with matter, resulting in the formation of elementary particles now coined quarks, hadrons, and leptons. For twenty more minutes, elementary particles coupled to form subatomic particles (protons, neutrons) which in turn underwent nuclear fusion to create simple early atoms such as hydrogen and helium. From nothing, came everything. In an eternal present, where there had once been flat and barren ground, Ancestral and Creator spirits emerged from land, sea, and sky to roam the Earth. As they moved, man and nature – mountains, animals, plants, and rivers – were birthed into existence. Once these spirits had finished, instead of disappearing, they transformed into the world they had created, existing in sacred sites such as the night sky, monolithic rocks, and ancient trees. The Dreaming is a First Nations peoples’ understanding of the world and its creation. Importantly, it is an event which cannot be fixed in time – “it was, and is, everywhen,” continuing even today. Countless retellings have caused Dreamtime tales to diverge slightly, leading communities of Aboriginal Australians to identify with different variations of similar stories. (2) These fables refer to natural worldly features and sacred sites, whilst also incorporating favourable values such as patience, humility, and compassion. An example is the tale of the Karatgurk, told by the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, about seven sisters representing what we now consider as the Pleiades star constellation. (3) The Karatgurk These seven sisters once lived by the Yarra River, where Melbourne now stands. They alone possessed the secret of fire, carrying live coals at the end of their digging sticks. (Crow ("trickster, cultural hero, and [another] ancestral being") called the sisters over claiming he had discovered tasty ant larvae. (3) The women began scouring, only to find viscious snakes underneath the dirt which they beat using their digging sticks. As they did so, the live coals flew off and were stolen by Crow who brought fire to mankind. The Karatgurk sisters were swept into the sky, with their glowing fire sticks forming the Pleiades star cluster. In theory, the extreme physical reactions occurring minutes after the Big Bang, paired with hyper-rapid cosmic inflation, should have resulted in a completely homogeneous universe with an even distribution of all existing matter and energy. Cosmological perturbation theory explains, however, that micro-fluctuations in material properties create gravitational wells resulting in the random grouping of matter. These aggregations formed the first stars, quasars, galaxies, and clusters throughout the next billion years. It took, however, another ten billion years for the solar system to form. Similar to Saturn’s planetary rings, the early Sun had its own rotating, circumstellar disc composed of dust, gas, and debris. According to the nebular hypothesis, over millions of years, enough particulates coagulated within the Sun’s spinning disc to form small, primordial planets. Early Earth was a hellish fire-scape as a result of constant meteoric bombardment and extreme volcanic activity. The occasional icy asteroids which collided with Earth deposited large amounts of water, vaporising upon contact – as our planet began to cool, these gaseous deposits condensed into oceans, and molten rock solidified into land mass. In the blink of an eye, early traces of modern humans fluttered into existence at the African Somali Peninsula. They were a nomadic people, travelling westwards and then north through modern day Egypt and into the Middle East. Ancestral Indigenous Australians were amongst the first humans to migrate out of Africa some 62,000 to 75,000 years ago. While other groups travelled in different directions filling up Asia, Europe and the Americas, ancestral Indigenous Australians took advantage of drastically lower sea levels during that time to travel south, as, back then, mainland Australia, Tasmania, and Papua New Guinea formed a single land mass (Sahul) while South-East Asia formed another (Sunda). In spite of this, the wanderers still had to possess the requisite sea-faring skills to traverse almost ninety kilometres of ocean. When the last ice age ended 10,000 years ago, rising waters from melting ice caps covered many of the terrestrial bridges early humans had once journeyed over. This severing allowed Indigenous Australians to foster culture and tradition in their very own passage of time, uninterrupted and independent until a British fleet of eleven ships approached Botany Bay thousands of years later. Significant parts of Australia’s coast were also submerged due to ice age flooding. As coastal Indigenous Australians observed this phenomenon, they recognised its significance through their tales. The Gimuy Walubara Yidinji, traditional custodians of Cairns and the surrounding district, are one of the many groups which reference coastal flooding in their geomythology. Gunya and the Sacred Fish Gunyah, who had lived on Fitzroy Island, went out to hunt for fish one day. Spotting a glimmer in the water, he plunged a spear towards it only to find he had attacked the sacred black stingray. The stingray beat its wing-like fins, causing a great, unending storm. Gunyah fled from the rapidly rising sea and managed to find refuge in a clan living on the cliffs of Cairns. Together, they heated huge rocks in a fire and threw them far into the sea. The pacific was once again pacified, and the Great Barrier Reef created. Isaac Newton proposed, in Principia Mathematica, that the strength of the force of gravity between two celestial bodies would be proportional to both of their masses. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Albert Einstein refined this concept with the theories of Special and General Relativity. His mathematical models suggested time and space were woven into a four-dimensional canvas of spacetime, and the presence of massive objects such as black holes and stars created gravitational wells which distorted spacetime. Within these distortions, bodies closer to large masses would conceive time and space differently than those further away. This unique phenomenon, for example, means astronauts living onboard the International Space Station age fractionally slower relative to us grounded on Earth. Einstein was also able to find that as the velocity of any given body increased to that near the speed of light, it would gain an almost-infinite mass and experience a drastically slowed perception of time relative to their surroundings. These once inconceivable findings had monumental implications in the sphere of theoretical physics, with two examples below. (4, 5) Dark Matter ‘Visible’, baryonic matter humanity is familiar with makes up less than a fifth of the known universe, with a hypothetical ‘dark’, non-baryonic matter comprising the rest. Dark matter lies between and within galaxies, driving baryonic matter to aggregate, forming stars and galaxies. As it cannot be detected using electromagnetic radiation, gravitational lensing provides the strongest proof of its existence. Gravitational lensing occurs when there is an interfering body between us, here on Earth, and a given target. As per Einstein’s relativity, the interfering body has mass which will bend space and therefore distort the image we receive of the target. There exists a mathematically proportional relationship between mass and distortion – the more massive an interfering body, the greater the distortion. Scientists performed calculations but found that the levels of distortion they observed correlated to masses much greater than that of the interfering body. Dark matter accounts for this invisible and undetectable missing mass. String Theory At its core, quantum physics deals with interactions at the atomic and subatomic level. This body of work has borne unusual findings – including that light can act both as a particle and wave, that we may never identify a particle’s position and momentum simultaneously with complete certainty, and that the physical properties of distant entangled particles can fundamentally be linked. On paper, however, there has been great difficulty reconciling quantum physics with relativity theory, as the former deals with interactions which occur in “jumps…with probabilistic rather than definite outcomes”. (4) String theory, however, seeks to settle this tension by proposing the universe is comprised of one-dimensional vibrating strings interacting with one another. This theoretical framework has already bore fascinating fruit – it has been hypothesised that the universe has ten dimensions (nine spatial, one temporal) and during the Big Bang, a “symmetry-breaking event” caused three spatial dimensions to break from the others resulting in an observable three-dimensional universe. (5) On 21 September 1922, astronomers in Goondiwindi, Queensland, used a total solar eclipse to successfully test and prove Einstein’s theory of relativity. Aboriginal Australians present believed they were “trying to catch the Sun in a net”. (6) Western academics were far from the only ones who sought to explain natural phenomena. From the ancient Egyptians to Japanese Shintoists and South American Incas, many civilisations of the past revered the Sun and Moon, having been enthralled by the two celestial bodies. Indigenous Australians were one such people, wanting to understand why the sun rose and set, how moon cycles and ocean tides were related, and what exactly were the rare solar and lunar eclipses. Such occurrences had a mystical property about them, reflected in a rich collection of traditional tales which looked to illuminate these astronomical observations. (7) Walu the Sun-woman Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, Walu lights a small fire every morning to mark that dawn has arrived. She paints herself with red and yellow pigment with some spilling onto the clouds to create sunrise. Walu lights a bark torch and carries it across the sky from East to West, creating daylight. Upon completing her journey, she extinguishes her torch and travels underground back to the morning camp in the East. While doing so, she provides warmth and fertility to the very Earth surrounding her. Ngalindi the Moon-man Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, “water fill[s] Ngalindi as he rises, becoming full at high tide”. (6) When full, he becomes gluttonous and decides to kill his sons because they refuse to share their food with him. His wives seek vengeance by chopping off his limbs, causing water to drain out. This is reflected by a waning moon and ebb in the tides. Eventually, Ngalindi dies for three days (New Moon) before rising once again (waxing Moon). Bahloo and Yhi Told often by the Kamilaroi people of northern New South Wales, Yhi (Sun-woman) falls in love with Bahloo (Moon-man) and tries to pursue him across the sky. However, he has no interest in Yhi and refuses her advances. Sometimes, Yhi eclipses Bahloo and tries to kill him in a fit of jealously, but the spirits holding up the sky intervene allowing Bahloo to escape. In 1788, British colonists prescribed the fictitious doctrine of terra nullius which treated land occupied by Indigenous peoples as “territory belonging to no-one,” susceptible to colonisation. (8) It is apparent, however, that Indigenous Australians did and still do belong, having a greater, more unique, and nuanced relationship to our lands and waters than we can ever hope to have. This article shows that as detailed and prescriptive our modern scientific understanding is, First Nations peoples will have an equally if not richer perspective, woven through their stories, languages, and practices. To argue that the spiritual connection Indigenous people share with country is not recognised by law would be wilfully making the same mistake our early settlers made two and a half centuries ago. It would be allowing the continuance of intergenerational trauma and suppression. For those reasons, despite the assertive legal challenges being brought against Love v Commonwealth, its judgement must be upheld. References 1. Love v Commonwealth; Thoms v Commonwealth [2020] HCA 3. 2. Stanner WE. The Dreaming & other essays. Melbourne (AU): Black Inc.; 2011. 3. Creation Stories [Internet]. Victoria: Taungurung Lands & Waters Council [cited 2022 Apr. Available from: https://taungurung.com.au/creation-stories/ 4. Powell CS. Relativity versus quantum mechanics: the battle of the universe [Internet]. The Guardian; 2015 Nov 4 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/nov/04/relativity-quantum-mechanics-universe-physicists 5. Wolchover N. String theorists simulate the Big Bang [Internet]. Live Science; 2011 Dec 14 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.livescience.com/17454-string-theory-big-bang.html 6. Hamacher DW. On the astronomical knowledge and traditions of Aboriginal Australians [thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy]. [Sydney]: Macquarie University; 2011. 139 p. 7. Mathematics, moon phases, and tides [Internet]. Melbourne: University of Melbourne [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://indigenousknowledge.unimelb.edu.au/curriculum/resources/mathematics,-moon-phases,-and-tides 8. Mabo v Queensland (No 2) [1992] HCA 23. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 5 Three-Parent Babies? The Future of Mitochondrial Donation in Australia Kara Miwa-Dale 24 October 2023 Edited by Yasmin Potts Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Mitochondria are the ‘powerhouse of the cell’. Sound familiar? This fact was likely drilled into you during high school biology classes (or by looking at memes). Beyond this, you may not have given mitochondria a second thought - but you should! This organelle has been at the centre of some heated parliamentary debates relating to mitochondrial donation. This new IVF technology, which aims to prevent women from passing on mitochondrial disease, will reshape Australia’s approach to genetic and reproductive technologies. Mitochondrial donation was legalised in Australia last year when ‘Maeve’s Law’ was passed in the Senate. This law reform has generated a minefield of social and ethical questions that are yet to be fully answered. What is mitochondrial disease? Mitochondria are the small but mighty structures found in all our cells (except red blood cells) that produce more than 90% of the energy used by our bodies (Cleveland Clinic, 2023). This organelle is vital for the functioning of important organs such as the heart, brain and liver (Cleveland Clinic, 2023). Mitochondria also have their own DNA, with a relatively small genome size of 37 genes (Garcia et al., 2017), compared to the 20,000 genes in our nuclear DNA (Nurk et al., 2022). Mitochondrial disease refers to a group of disorders in which ‘faulty’ mitochondria results in a range of symptoms such as poor motor control, developmental delay, seizures and cardiac disease (Mito Foundation, 2023). Half of the cases of mitochondrial disease are caused by mutations in mitochondrial DNA. These mutations are transmitted through maternal inheritance, which means that all the mitochondria in your cells are passed on from your biological mother (Mito Foundation, 2023). It is believed that about 1 in 200 people have a mutation in their mitochondrial DNA, with 1 in 5000 people having some form of mitochondrial disease (Mito Foundation, 2023). There is currently no cure for this group of conditions. How does mitochondrial donation work? Mitochondrial donation, also known as Mitochondrial Replacement Therapy (MRT), is an IVF technology which aims to prevent women from passing on mitochondrial disease to their children. For individuals with mitochondrial disease, this technology is currently the only way to have biological children without the risk of passing on their disease. MRT is used to create an embryo containing the nuclear DNA from two parents, in addition to mitochondrial DNA from an egg donor. This process involves taking the nuclear DNA from an embryo (created using the mother’s egg and father’s sperm) and inserting it into a donor egg which contains healthy mitochondria (NHMRC, 2023). The child will still inherit all of their unique characteristics, such as hair colour, through the nuclear DNA of their prospective parents. Therefore, it would be impossible to tell that an individual had been conceived through MRT simply by looking at them. Challenges in defining parenthood. Children conceived through MRT have been popularly referred to in the media as ‘three-parent babies’ since the technique creates an embryo containing DNA from three different individuals. However, this label is inaccurate and misleading. It suggests that all three parents make an equal contribution to the identity of the child, when in fact mitochondrial donors contribute only 0.1% of the child’s total genetic material. So, technically the term ‘2.002-parent babies’ would be more accurate! Under Australian law, mitochondrial donors will not have legal status as parents since their genetic contribution is not thought to influence the unique characteristics of the child. However, there are some concerns about the potential psychological impacts on children conceived through MRT, as the definition of parenthood is becoming increasingly blurry. It is possible that children conceived through mitochondrial donation will regard their mitochondrial donor as significant to their identity, considering how different their life may have looked without them. As researchers learn more about the function of mitochondria, we may indeed find that mitochondrial DNA has a greater influence on a person’s characteristics than we once thought. More recent studies have linked mitochondrial DNA to athletic performance (Maruszak et al., 2014), psychiatric disorders (Sequeira et al., 2012), and ageing (Wallace, 2010). Should mitochondrial donors remain anonymous? If mitochondrial donors contribute such a tiny amount of DNA to a child, and do not influence any of their personal characteristics, should they be obligated to disclose their identity to the recipient? Australia no longer allows egg or sperm donors to remain anonymous in order to protect the rights of individuals to know their biological origins. Yet, in the case of mitochondrial donation, there is a much smaller proportion of DNA involved. Some experts have compared mitochondrial donation to organ donation, in the sense that the donation also provides someone with the organ (or organelle) that enables them to live a healthy life, without altering their unique characteristics. It has therefore been argued that mitochondrial donation should be treated in a similar way to organ donation, allowing donors to remain anonymous. Considering that donated eggs are often in low supply, permitting anonymous donors may provide a way of improving the availability of donor eggs. It is likely that Australia will follow the lead of the UK by permitting anonymous donation. Are we ‘playing God’ by altering the genome? By making heritable changes to an individual’s genome, we are heading into new and potentially dangerous territory. Opponents of mitochondrial donation have voiced fears about the ‘slippery slope’ between trying to eradicate mitochondrial disease and taking this technology too far into the realm of ‘designer babies’. Considering that mitochondrial donation does not involve making any changes to nuclear DNA, and can only be used for medical reasons, these statements seem a bit sensationalist. However, there are some genuine reasons to be concerned about the safety of this technology and its implications for the future of humankind. While MRT is generally considered to be safe based on clinical research, there are still some uncertainties about its efficacy in clinical practice. For example, clinical research has found that there is a chance of ‘carry-over’ of unhealthy mitochondria during the MRT process (Klopstock, Klopstock & Prokisch, 2016). If this carry-over occurs, there is a potential for the numbers of unhealthy mitochondria to gradually increase as the embryo develops, essentially undoing all the hard work of creating an embryo free from mitochondrial disease. However, the percentage of carry-over is usually less than 2% and is likely to become lower as the technology advances (Klopstock, Klopstock & Prokisch, 2016). Unfortunately, we won’t know about any negative long-term impacts of MRT until we are able to observe the development of children conceived through this technology. However, adults over the age of 18 cannot be forced to participate in a study, which makes it more challenging to track long-term outcomes. An important consideration is the privacy and autonomy of these individuals - that they are not over-medicalised or viewed as some sort of ‘spectacle’ to the public. The future of mitochondrial donation in Australia. ‘Maeve’s Law’ was named in honour of Maeve Hood, a cheerful 7-year-old who was diagnosed with a rare mitochondrial disease at 18 months old. The law was passed with the aim of preventing the transmission of mitochondrial disease in Australia, which affects around fifty families each year. This revolutionary law permits the creation of a human embryo containing genetic material from three people and allows heritable changes to be made to the genome (although under strict guidelines). Such practices were previously illegal in Australia due to understandable concern that these technologies could be destructive in the wrong hands. Maeve’s Law introduces an exception to these prohibitions solely for the purpose of preventing serious mitochondrial disease. While MRT is no longer illegal in Australia, Maeve’s Law does not authorise the immediate use of MRT in clinical practice. The law outlines a two-stage approach in which the technology will be implemented, provided that clinical trials are successful. This initiative will be conducted by Monash University through the mitoHOPE (Healthy Outcomes Pilot and Evaluation) program, for which they received $15 million in funding (Monash University, 2023). Stage 1, which is expected to last around ten years, will involve clinical research aimed at improving MRT techniques and validating its safety. After an initial review, mitochondrial donation may become available in a clinical practice setting in Stage 2. Mitochondrial donation is an exciting technology which provides hope to the many Australians touched by the devastating effects of mitochondrial disease. However, it is important that more research is conducted into its safety and efficacy, as well as the long-term implications of its use. As is often the case with groundbreaking technologies such as this, the laws and policies lag behind the science. The passing of Maeve’s Law is only the start of what will be a long journey to the successful implementation of mitochondrial donation in Australia. The next ten years will be crucial in setting a precedent for how our society approaches the use of other novel genetic technologies in healthcare. The question is no longer ‘should we use mitochondrial donation?’ but ‘how can we implement this technology in a safe and ethical way?’ References Cleveland Clinic. (2023). Mitochondrial Diseases . https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/15612-mitochondrial-diseases Garcia, I., Jones, E., Ramos, M., Innis-Whitehouse, W., & Gilkerson, R. (2017). The little big genome: The organization of mitochondrial DNA . Frontiers in Bioscience (Landmark Edition), 22, 710. Klopstock, T., Klopstock, B., & Prokisch, H. (2016). Mitochondrial replacement approaches: Challenges for clinical implementation . Genome Medicine, 8(1), 1-3. Maruszak, A., Adamczyk, J. G., Siewierski, M., Sozański, H., Gajewski, A., & Żekanowski, C. (2014). Mitochondrial DNA variation is associated with elite athletic status in the Polish population. Scandinavian Journal of Medicine & Science in Sports, 24(2), 311-318. Mito Foundation. (2023). Maybe Mito Patient Factsheet. https://www.mito.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Maybe-Mito-Patient-Factsheet1.pdf Mito Foundation. (2023). Mitochondrial Disease: The Need For Mitochondrial Donation . https://www.mito.org.au/wp-content/uploads/2019/01/Brief-mitochondrial-donation-2.pdf Monash University. (2023). Introducing Mitochondrial Donation into Australia. The mitoHOPE Program. https://www.monash.edu/medicine/mitohope National Health and Medical Research Council. (2023). Mitochondrial Donation. https://www.nhmrc.gov.au/mitochondrial-donation Nurk, S., Koren, S., Rhie, A., Rautiainen, M., Bzikadze, A. V., Mikheenko, A., & Phillippy, A. M. (2022). The complete sequence of a human genome . Science, 376(6588), 44-53. Sequeira, A., Martin, M. V., Rollins, B., Moon, E. A., Bunney, W. E., Macciardi, F., & Vawter, M. P. (2012). Mitochondrial mutations and polymorphisms in psychiatric disorders. Frontiers in Genetics, 3, 103. Wallace, D. C. (2010). Mitochondrial DNA mutations in disease and aging. Environmental and Molecular Mutagenesis, 51(5), 440-450. Wicked back to

Where The Wild Things Were By Ashleigh Hallinan We may consider ourselves to be the most advanced species on the planet, but this has come at the cost of the natural world. Delve into this article to gain insight into how ecosystem restoration plays a role in nature-based solutions for biodiversity loss and climate change mitigation globally. Edited by Niesha Baker & Caitlin Kane Issue 1: September 24, 2021 Illustration by Jess Nguyen The scale of threats posed to humanity and the natural world is confronting and difficult to grasp. The natural world is being pushed towards its brink, but it’s not too late to act. Ecosystem restoration plays an important role in nature-based solutions for biodiversity loss, food insecurity, and climate change. Global discourse and action also need to continue moving towards greater acknowledgement of Traditional Owners and local communities in biodiversity conservation efforts and climate change resilience. Ecosystem degradation is an accelerating calamity of our own making. A recent study from Frontier Forest and Global Change shows that humans have altered 97 per cent of the Earth's land, meaning a mere 3 per cent of land remains untouched, or ‘ecologically intact’ (1). ‘Ecosystem degradation’ refers to the loss of natural productivity from environments as a result of human activity. Many of the world’s ecosystems have been pushed beyond the point of unassisted self-recovery due to a mix of stressors, most of which are human-induced. Ecosystems are made up of interacting organisms and the physical environment in which they are found, so disturbing the balance of an ecosystem can be disastrous for all the living things relying on it, including humans. If trends of ecosystem degradation continue, 95 per cent of the Earth’s land could become degraded by 2050 (2). In this scenario, we would face irreversible damage. But how does this affect you and me? Beyond the role ecosystem degradation plays in accelerating climate change and the loss of countless species from our planet, its impact on ecosystem services is also of great significance. Ecosystem services are the benefits humans derive from the natural environment. These range from the oxygen we breathe to aesthetic appreciation of the natural environments around us. These services are necessary for life to exist on Earth, and without them, our quality of life would decline drastically. Luckily for us, humans are capable of learning from their mistakes, and efforts are being made to address these global concerns. Ecosystem restoration is the process of reversing ecosystem degradation to regain environmental health and sustainability. This often involves re-introducing plant and animal populations that may have been lost, as well as restoring their habitats. Abandoned farmland is one example of where this can be achieved. Farmlands are one of the most vital ecosystems in sustaining humankind. Not only do they provide us with food, but they are also home to a variety of organisms within and above the soil. Many of these organisms play a critical role in soil health, which is essential for agriculture. Agriculture has transformed human societies and fuelled a global population that has grown from one billion to almost eight billion people since around 1804 (3). This has had significant consequences on natural systems worldwide, particularly as farmland has continuously expanded into surrounding landscapes. Agroecosystems now cover around 40 per cent of Earth's terrestrial surface (4). However, despite a growing demand for food due to the world’s rapidly increasing population, the amount of farmland being abandoned outweighs the amount of land being converted to farmland (5). There are an estimated 950 million to 1.1 billion acres of deserted farmland globally (6). This unproductive farmland could be converted to meet conservation goals and mitigate the impacts of climate change. For example, farmland could be regenerated with carbon-capturing forests. These would contribute to sequestering large amounts of anthropogenic CO2, water retention, soil fertility, and providing habitats for a variety of organisms. Abandoned farmland could also be re-established with native vegetation to provide habitats for animals. This was the case at the Monjebup Nature Reserves, located in south-west Western Australia (WA) on Noongar Country, established by Bush Heritage Australia between 2007 and 2014 (7). Despite being a biodiversity hotspot, animals and plants in the Monjebup Nature Reserves have faced many threats. These were mainly in the form of introduced species and land clearing for agriculture. Decades of land clearing resulted in a transition from deep-rooted woody vegetation systems to shallow-rooted annual cropping systems across the south-western Australian landscape. This caused a decrease in natural habitats and accumulation of salt in soil and water, which contributed significantly to biodiversity loss. In 2007, Bush Heritage Australia secured the Monjebup Nature Reserves in a bid to establish important conservation areas. Since then, they have restored nearly 1,000 acres of cleared land in the north of the Reserve (8). An important contributor to the success of this project was Indigenous knowledge, which reflects a long history of close connection with the land. These unique human-land relationships provide opportunities for learning in environmental research, particularly regarding land management and sustainability. The Monjebup Nature Reserves now protect a significant patch of native bushland on the land of the Noongar-Minang and Koreng people. This has been critical in restoring the heavily cleared landscape between WA's Stirling Ranges and Fitzgerald River National Parks, reconnecting remnant bush in the south with that of the Corackerup Nature Reserve further north. It has also provided habitat for vulnerable animal species such as the Malleefowl, Western Whipbird, Carnaby's Cockatoo, and Tammar Wallaby. Local knowledge plays a critical role in re-introducing plants and animals by identifying species suitable to particular environments. In the Monjebup Nature Reserves, re-introduction of native plants involved research on local plant communities and soil conditions in immediately surrounding areas. This research also involved communication with Traditional Owners who had used the area for gathering raw materials, food processing, hunting, stone tool manufacturing, and seasonal movement over millennia (9). Seeds of suitable flora were then collected in and around the site for the restoration works. It is crucial that consultation with Traditional Owners, like that seen in the Monjebup Nature Reserves project, becomes a more common practice. An estimated 37 per cent of all remaining natural lands are under Indigenous management (10). These lands protect 80 per cent of global biodiversity and the majority of intact forests, highlighting the value of Indigenous knowledge (11). We have left ourselves a challenging yet attainable goal. Raising public awareness on the importance of ecosystems and improving our knowledge on the interconnectedness of the natural world will be key to decreasing our impacts on Earth's incredible ecosystems. In March 2019, the United Nations General Assembly announced 2021 to 2030 as the Decade on Ecosystem Restoration (12). El Salvador’s Minister of Environment and Natural Resources, Lina Pohl, proposed the creation of the Decade in a speech to the General Assembly. More than 70 countries from all latitudes quickly jumped on board, committing to safeguarding and restoring ecosystems globally (13). 2030 also happens to be the deadline for the Sustainable Development Goals, which are a collection of 17 interlinked global goals designed to address the global challenges we face, and provide a ‘blueprint to achieve a better and more sustainable future for all’ (14). 2030 is also the year scientists have identified as the last chance to prevent catastrophic climate change (15). As part of the Decade on Ecosystem Restoration, the United Nations has called for countries to make the pledge to restore at least 2.5 billion acres of degraded land - an area larger than China (16). This will require international cooperation, led by the UN Environment Programme and the Food and Agriculture Organisation. Humans have an essential role in halting and reversing the damage that has been caused so far. Ecosystem restoration is not a quick or easy process. It requires deep, systematic changes to the economic, political, and social systems we currently have in place. But the natural world is finite, and it is important we continue taking steps towards a more sustainable future. References: 1. Plumptre, Andrew J., Daniele Baisero, R. Travis Belote, Ella Vázquez-Domínguez, Soren Faurby, Włodzimierz Jȩdrzejewski, Henry Kiara, Hjalmar Kühl, Ana Benítez-López, Carlos Luna-Aranguré, Maria Voigt, Serge Wich, William Wint, Juan Gallego-Zamorano, Charlotte Boyd . “Where Might We Find Ecologically Intact Communities?” Frontiers in Forests and Global Change 4 (15 April 2021): 1-13. https://doi.org/10.3389/ffgc.2021.626635. 2, 4. Scholes, Robert, L Montanarella, Anastasia Brainich, Nichole Barger. “The Assessment Report on Land Degradation and Restoration: Summary for Policymakers”. Bonn, Germany: Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services (IPBES), 2018. https://ipbes.net/sites/default/files/2018_ldr_full_report_book_v4_pages.pdf 3. Food and Agriculture Organisation of the United Nations,“FAOSTAT”, Accessed 8 September 2021, http://www.fao.org/faostat/en/#home . 5, 6. Yang, Yi, Sarah E. Hobbie, Rebecca R. Hernandez, Joseph Fargione, Steven M. Grodsky, David Tilman, Yong-Guan Zhu, Yu Luo, Timothy M. Smith, Jacob M. Jungers, Ming Yang, Wei-Qiang Chen. “Restoring Abandoned Farmland to Mitigate Climate Change on a Full Earth”. One Earth 3, no. 2 (August 2020): 176–86. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.oneear.2020.07.019. 7, 8, 9. Bush Heritage Australia,“Monjebup Nature Reserves (WA),” Accessed 8 September 2021, https://www.bushheritage.org.au/places-we-protect/western-australia/monjebup . 10. Garnett, Stephen T., Neil D. Burgess, Julia E. Fa, Álvaro Fernández-Llamazares, Zsolt Molnár, Cathy J. Robinson, James E. M. Watson, Kerstin K.Zander, Beau Austin, Eduardo S. Brondizio, Neil French Collier, Tom Duncan, Erle Ellis, Hayley Geyle, Micha V. Jackson, Harry Jonas, Pernilla Malmer, Ben McGowan, Amphone Sivongxay, Ian Leiper. “A Spatial Overview of the Global Importance of Indigenous Lands for Conservation‘. Nature Sustainability 1, no. 7 (July 2018): 369–74. https://doi.org/10.1038/s41893-018-0100-6 . 11. Ogar, Edwin, Gretta Pecl, and Tero Mustonen. ‘Science Must Embrace Traditional and Indigenous Knowledge to Solve Our Biodiversity Crisis’. One Earth 3, no. 2 (August 2020): 162–65. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.oneear.2020.07.006. 12, 13, 14, 15. United Nations Environment Programme and the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations, “About the UN Decade,” Accessed 8 September 2021, http://www.decadeonrestoration.org/about-un-decade . 16. United Nations Environment Management Group, “The UN Sustainable Development Goals – UN Environment Management Group”, Accessed 8 September 2021, https://unemg.org/our-work/supporting-the-sdgs/the-un-sustainable-development-goals/ .

Curious what an OmniSci Editor-in-Chief actually does? We spoke to Rachel about drawing anatomy, interviewing a med student hero, and helping build the the science communication universe! Rachel is a writer and Editor-in-Chief at OmniSci, now in her first year of the Doctor of Medicine. For Issue 4: Mirage, she is writing an interview with science communicator, Dr Karen Freilich. Meet OmniSci Writer and Committee Member Rachel Ko Rachel is a writer and Editor-in-Chief at OmniSci, now in her first year of the Doctor of Medicine. For Issue 4: Mirage, she is writing an interview with science communicator, Dr Karen Freilich. interviewed by Caitlin Kane What are you studying? I am currently studying a Doctor of Medicine and I’m in my first year. Before that, I was studying a Bachelor of Biomed. What first got you interested in science? Exposure through education, stuff I’d studied in school. It sparked interests outside of school and I realised it was something that I wanted to pursue as a career. Something that really reinforced my love for science was doing a major in human structure and function, so anatomy. I really enjoyed that I could weave it in with my other passions in things like art and drawing and painting. I was able to look at science in a way that was really the artsy side of science. It's something I’ve tried to pursue with OmniSci as well. Do you have any advice for younger students? Don’t be afraid of trying all areas of science. Because I loved a specific area of science so much, I wanted to make sure that was what reeled me in as compared to other things. I tried a bunch of research projects, some of them I didn’t really love and I had to stick it out to the end, but then I could tick that off my list as having done that, and never have to do it again. But then I did another project which was 3D modelling a bone. It was just me sitting there for hours with a pen, drawing the bone in 3D space, which was very much up my alley. Don’t be afraid of trying everything, even if it feels like a waste of time in the moment. It isn't, it’s the process of filtering out and finding out what you love. And I’m still in that process. I have no idea what kind of medicine I want to go into, but I’m going by process of elimination and finding where I fit in the realm of science in that way. How did you get involved with OmniSci? Like I said, I like the artsy side of science. I actually sought out a few non-science related magazines at uni. I’ve always been into journalism and I love writing as well, so it made sense for me to look into that in my undergrad years. OmniSci emerged during those undergrad years and I thought, “Perfect!” I was a columnist first and I started doing some illustrations as well. Then I dropped my role at Farrago completely just to concentrate on this because I found it was a really nice intersection of what I love to do. My column was about vestigial features, like useless body parts, which I thought would be a fun, light column–I just wanted something cute and fun. So I started that, and now… I’m in the committee. What is your role at OmniSci? I am an Editor-in-Chief at the moment, and I have also written one of the pieces for Issue 4, purely because of my love for writing and contributing. I might step in as an illustrator at some point… I’m hoping in this break I can sit down and draw a little more than I used to. As Editors-in-Chief, we work with the committee to coordinate the things being published and try to envision what role OmniSci plays within the science communication universe. And whilst figuring out what we’re publishing and putting out to the world, we’re also trying to include the rest of the student community. We also have social events so that we can share our love for…whether it’s science or art or writing… any of the parts that OmniSci encompasses. We're there to keep everything chugging along!. What is your favourite thing about contributing at OmniSci so far? The people that you meet along the way. I do eventually want to pursue science communication myself, alongside medicine. I don’t know what that will look like, but I know that the people who will be involved in that space are the people you meet at the moment. Even with the committee, chatting about things and discussing interests has been super enlightening. When you expand that to the rest of the OmniSci community, I think it’s super super rewarding. Also seeing something tangible come out of it all… I just love seeing the magazine come together. When we printed it—though not ideal for the environment for every issue—to have the paper magazine in our hands from last year was super rewarding to see. Can you give us a sneak peak of what you're working on this issue? Well as Editor-in-Chief, the whole issue is kind of our collective baby! Personally I interviewed Dr Karen Freilich, a GP specialising in sexual health and working in education as well. I was lucky enough to have her as one of my sexual health elective tutors. She also started a podcast when she was in medical school called Humerus Hacks. It is basically super famous within the med student community. It sounds like such a simple thing, but just to hear her and the friend she started the podcast with talk things through and make things entertaining… it was such a fresh way of getting the information out. It’s kind of what we do at OmniSci: make science more accessible to people who might feel intimidated by those bigger, wider topics that they might never have ventured into. And the whole point of a magazine is to get information out to more people, and to spark interest, and show people that these things exist. As a med student, I kind of came across it as naturally as you could have. And as she was my tutor, I thought it was such an important opportunity to talk to her about why she did it and where she sees science communication going. What do you like doing in your spare time (when you're not contributing at OmniSci)? Well, there’s the anatomical art. I haven’t had a lot of time to do that… and I’ve been really wanting to try and incorporate it into my study but I spend a lot of time on one painting so it wouldn’t have been time efficient. But my plan for this break is to go to a bar, get myself a drink and just paint on my own… relax in that way. Otherwise, I play the violin, something I like to destress. It’s actually been a surprisingly big part of my life in med because there's a medical student orchestra. The rehearsals are quite long but it’s actually quite worth it to be sitting there not thinking about medicine. And yeah, just catching up with friends, going cafe hopping, bar hopping, that’s what I like to spend time doing. Which chemical element would you name your firstborn child (or pet) after? Let me pull up a visual aid. I actually don’t mind chemistry, but after year twelve I’ve kind of put a line between myself and it. Have you seen that trend online where people are pulling up words that would be really pretty baby names if they didn’t mean what they meant? Ooh, I’m going to go with Livermorium, Liv for short. Element 160. There’s some good ones—you could go Rutherfordium, Ruth for short. Read Rachel's articles Silent Conversations: How Trees Talk to One Another Wiggling Ears Our Microbial Frenemies Hiccups The Evolution of Science Communication Law and Disorder: Medically Supervised Injection Centres “Blink and you’ll miss it”: A Third Eyelid? Mighty Microscopic Warriors!

< Back to Issue 4 Interviewing Dr Karen Freilich by Rachel Ko 1 July 2023 Edited by Caitlin Kane Illustrated by Pia Barraza Science in the real world is never straight-forward. The realm of medicine and health is particularly intricate, riddled with myths and marvels. This makes the healthcare journey a difficult one to navigate, both for the patient, and for the provider. It is undeniably a field where an ever-evolving myriad of factors makes the bedside experience vastly different to the textbooks. In my first year studying medicine, I am constantly realising that a strong understanding of the fundamentals is often a saving grace, while learning to dispel the mirage of medicine as a simple science. Enter Humerus Hacks , a podcast recommended to me in the first week of medical school by peers who had walked the treacherous road before. A guiding light in the murky waters of medical education, Karen and Sarah’s playful banter lays out high-yield medical content with catchy mnemonics and gracious advice. In this interview, we had the special opportunity to talk to Dr Karen Freilich, one of the hosts of Humerus Hacks , about her journey in medicine so far as a young GP, and the story of how she created a podcast that masters the art of science communication in a perfect marriage of education and entertainment. Tell us about your journey with science, and your career so far. I’ve just completed my GP Fellowship training after about 12 years of study. It’s a relief to be done —medicine is a long slog! I’ve had a brilliant time and been fortunate to take part in exciting studies. I took some time off clinical medicine to complete a Masters of Reproductive and Sexual Health Research in London (LSHTM) as well as completing a Diploma of Obstetrics (DRANZCOG). I currently teach at the University of Melbourne’s Medical School as a tutor in Sexual Health, and write and train high school sexual health educators through Elephant Ed. I work as a GP most days of the week, in a clinic with a focus on sexual and reproductive health and I’m a proud medical abortion and contraception provider. I’m also fortunate to work at Monash in the Sexual Medicine and Therapy Clinic, and work together with the Australasian Society for HIV, Viral Hepatitis and Sexual Health Medicine (ASHM). It’s a tricky balance wearing a number of hats, but I love the diversity. Unsurprisingly everything I do is focused in sexual and reproductive health through clinical work, education, advising and science communication. My career is certainly tailor-made to my interests and passion, and took quite some time to get to this point! I love being able to educate on both a one-on-one and broader level on sexual and reproductive health care, particularly through a reproductive justice lens. What was the inspiration behind Humerus Hacks ? In the early years of medical school, my mate Sarah and I used to spend hours and hours trying to memorise different antibiotics and the differences between them. It felt incomprehensible to have to learn not only a new science, but an entirely new language behind it. It felt like a Duolingo course! So in order to scrape through exams, we made silly little stories to try and remember the differences between gentamicin, amoxicillin etc.. Fast forward a few years and Sarah and I ended up running a weekly study group for the year below us, filled with our mnemonics and silly stories. We developed a bit of a cult following (if I say so myself!). It seemed there was a real appetite for otherwise tedious and dry medical education made fun and entertaining. In final year, we both ended up on placements requiring huge drives. We turned to podcasts for ‘edutainment’ — and found there simply were none. So we did what everyone in 2016 was doing, bought a microphone and recorded our own. We were a bit mortified at the start and convinced we wouldn’t get internships if our future employers heard us swearing and being inappropriate online, so we hid our faces and were anonymous with our names. Fortunately it turned out we had nothing to be nervous about, and Humerus Hacks was a hit. Sarah is a musical genius and recorded the intro song with her band. It’s now been over 50 episodes and over 150,000 downloads. We’re often in the iTunes Medical Podcasts Top 10! The inspiration has and always will be pure study laziness — trying to make studying more interesting, fun and accessible and ultimately, more memorable. What is the process of developing and recording an episode? Me, Sarah, or another co-host or friend (Callum, Bridget, Robbie and Dan to name a few!) sitting on a couch with a microphone and chinwagging about a topic. If we’re lucky, maybe some prep. I’d love to suggest it’s more fancy than that! I have brilliant colleagues who play an integral role. Alex edits our episodes and does a brilliant job. And Bella creates fantastic art for the episodes. Sometimes I play around on Canva too for some social media. Shout out as well to our friends who helped with some graphic design and audio. It’s definitely a team effort, and so many people to thank for their ongoing contributions and support. What is your relationship with your audience like? Our audience sends us messages and emails all the time — even if we haven’t made an episode in months! It’s a joy to receive any messages and warms our hearts every time. We get the most delightful and lovely messages. We also get a lot of requests which I wish we could keep up with more, the irony of doing our own exams over the past few years! We try to respond to all messages and keep up with requests. Knowing that our silly little mnemonics has helped anyone with exams is a huge joy. How has science communication evolved since you began? Mnemonics have been a huge part of medicine for a very long time. In fact, I have my uncle’s Medical Mnemonic book from 1958! Some of them have aged terribly, unsurprisingly, but many we still use to this day. So, we are far from inventing the wheel. In saying that, the boom of social media and podcasts over the past few years has lent itself to subspecialised Instagram pages, YouTube channels and more podcasts than I could have ever imagined. Making medical education (and science communication) fun has become much more mainstream and accepted as a genuine study tool. Who knew, making dry education entertaining actually works…! What has been the biggest challenge in your science communication journey? Hands down, time. I run Humerus Hacks with a group of excellent friends and colleagues, but we all happen to be medical students or doctors. Unsurprisingly, it means we are all always bogged down with shift work, exams, and burn out. Humerus Hacks is a labour of love. So we make an effort if and when we can, without any time pressure. I wish we had more time! What role would you say science communication plays in your daily practice? I’m a GP with a special interest in sexual medicine as well as a sexual health tutor for medical students. I also write and train individuals to run high school sexual health education. I’ve also been fortunate to be a guest host on ABC Breakfast Radio under ‘Doctor Breakfast’ providing science communication for a number of medical topics. So, it plays a huge role in my daily practice! I particularly enjoy the interplay of small scale science communication through one-on-one patient interactions compared with larger scale communication through radio, teaching and podcasts. They balance each other really well, and I enjoy the individualised, tailored approach whilst simultaneously thinking of the broader public health messaging. What role would you say science communication plays in society generally? There is so much misinformation floating around. As a huge fan of social media and TikTok myself, I can see how these avenues can be both a wonderful source of information but simultaneously promote unnuanced, oversimplified and often blatantly incorrect health messaging. Social media (including podcasts) provides a really accessible, often free avenue for science information that is otherwise inaccessible. However, we have a responsibility to ensure the information is correct, up to date, and safe. Social media loves a quick snap messaging, but science is almost always more nuanced and complex. A 30 second TikTok often unsurprisingly misses the mark! So, accurate and accessible science communication is the key — the hard thing is making it fun and interesting. What are your immediate goals in science communication this year, and what do you hope to achieve in science communication in the long-term? Great question! I am thoroughly enjoying my career balance at the moment. It’s a great mix of GP clinic, sexual medicine and therapy clinical work, sexual health teaching, and radio/podcasting. I’d love to make more Humerus Hacks episodes now that I’ve finished my own training and have (hopefully) both more knowledge and time! I’ve put together a SPHERE Sexual and Reproductive Health podcast focusing on upskilling clinicians to provide medical abortion and contraception in primary care. I am also loving radio work and would love to keep going with this. I may or may not delve into the TikTok world… watch this space! Long term, hopefully ongoing science communication in the field of sexual and reproductive healthcare. What advice would you give to students exploring the world of science communication? Social media is a game changer that had only just begun when I was a student. TikTok, Instagram etc all provide a free and accessibly way to both gain knowledge and skills, and to educate others. Science students in all disciplines have such incredibly knowledge and insight, and if you’re interested, there’s a willing and enthusiastic audience out there. The phrase ‘see one, do one, teach one’ forever rings true. Teaching and providing science communication helps your own education, and has always been my favourite learning tool. Finally, and I cannot emphasise this enough, being a student is long, tedious, and exhausting. Enjoy the process and look after yourself and your colleagues as a priority! ------------------- It is undeniable that Humerus Hacks is a project succeeding on its steadfast mission to uncover the mirage of medicine. Through a blend of education and entertainment, it reveals the intricate realities of science in health, as a complex and ever-changing landscape that demands a strong foundation of knowledge and willingness to adapt. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to Dr Karen Frielich, for not only agreeing to talk to us, but also for all of her work to demystify the healthcare journey, both for the professional, and for the patient. You can check out 'Humerus Hacks' on Spotify , on Apple Music , or online! 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