Posted on by ScientistSim

Viruses: Their tiny dictatorship and why I love them

We may have surpassed the age where scientists said the flu is caused by “mysterious somethings”, but we are still very much in the dark about viruses. Virologists are even torn when it comes to knowing if they are alive. At the very least, viruses are shortcuts on the principle of life itself. While the rest of life is scrambling to evolve complex mechanisms, viruses are the couch potatoes of micro-organisms. Essentially they are just Netflixing their way through series in their sweatpants while the world around them runs the Comrades. Then, instead of putting on the pounds, they end up winning an Olympic gold for marathon running and everyone else is left a bit bewildered. They compete, they attack, they overthrow and they invade. They are the Hitlers, Mussolinis and Idi Amins of the immune system – but unlike their human counterparts, I love them.

I was 14 when my love affair with these tiny parasites started. I was (and am still) small for my age — perhaps that is why I found a kinship with them. They are in the smallest of packages and have managed to jump across species, dominate lifeforms and cause havoc without lugging around any of their own cellular machinery. HIV impressively hijacks the very system that is there to destroy it, Ebola can hide its cell surface proteins to avoid detection, and influenza forces cells to burst to enhance viral release. I appreciate the skill with which they shrewdly take command, often under the radar of our supposedly complex but largely unprepared cells. Another feature that sets viruses apart from their microbial brethren is how quickly they can adapt. Viruses that consist of nothing more than a bit of DNA or RNA wrapped in protein can change dramatically within a couple of hours, whereas bacteria have a far slower mutation rate. It is their simplicity that gives them power that very few complex systems can counteract.

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Read more about complexity versus success here.

A virus doesn’t necessarily achieve anything by killing its host – that could lead to its untimely destruction. Ultimately, self-interest just requires simple transmission and replication. Often a virus enters a host benignly with no visible symptoms and while it may kill a few cells, it does so with limited destruction. In a reservoir host, the host that the virus originated in, there is a truce; a sort of dictator parlay. In these situations the virus ‘rents’ the space and the space doesn’t complain (sort of like Donald Trump in the Republican party). When the virus makes a move and spills over into a new host, though, all bets are off (i.e. Donald Trump becoming president of the USA). HIV, Ebola, Marburg, swine flu and yellow fever are just a few examples of successful plagues (or, zoonoses) that have made the evolutionary leap and caused massive damage in doing so. Like a horror movie they are so intriguing, I can’t stop watching them through my fingers.

As I speak with admiration for them, it may seem counter-intuitive that I spend my days growing them, giving them some host cells and then finding cruel and unusual ways to kill them. This is the first lesson about medial science: know your enemy, appreciate them, truly have passion for them. Scientist need to be devil’s advocates, always balancing disdain with adoration. In this way you will find creative answers to hard questions. You can get a PhD that really means something.  In my case, knowing what I’m up against is what will always keep me a few replication cycles ahead. I constantly marvel at what nature has to throw at us and I hope this will make me a good virologist: over-thrower of dictators!

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Posted on by Odi · 4 Comments

My Work is My Art: the PhD thesis as a reflection

Much like a painter or a sculptor moulds their soul onto a project, so does a doctoral candidate lay their very essence into a document that would forever be laid bare for others to admire or admonish. As Africans, across the colour spectrum, we often get bombarded with statistics about how South Africa, and Africa in general, does not produce enough doctoral candidates. What all these statistics and policy laments seem to forget is the human element in producing a doctoral thesis. Living in a social context that has  dual expectations of its emerging academics: put your nose in your books and figure out solutions to the countries problems; on the other hand, always keep your mind on the fact that you’re expected to plough back into your community sooner rather than later.

My journey as a black African female PhD candidate has been a very interesting one. The very nature of being black and female already socially locates you in your interactions with colleagues, and your community of practice. There is an unspoken pressure to conform to “rules” that nobody ever voices out loud: be confident but not seen as aggressive; be well read and articulate but not appear arrogant; and, take initiative but do come off as bossy… amongst other ridiculous unspoken rules.

Certainly, all women, regardless of race, have undue pressure placed upon them but the weight of the pressure is made more acute by their intersecting identities. Some identities have a heavier burden than others.

My other identities are as wife and a mother of two children, each identity with its own pressures and complications. What does this have to do with completing a thesis? A lot. Writing any piece of academic work entails you wearing two hats simultaneously: a researcher hat and that of a writer. The work you ultimately produce is a reflection of your skill, labour, spirit and how much you have been able to translate your knowledge into a piece that is capable of impacting your reader in some way. Putting it differently, there is a constant tension between the creative and the academic.

Photo credit: modul via Foter.com / CC BY-NC
Photo credit: modul via Foter.com / CC BY-NC

All these unspoken pressures have a way of either spurring you on to produce something worthy or pushing you completely off course. In the Atlantic’s Creative Breakthrough Series, Ta-Nehisi Coates, an author and journalist, provides profound advice on writing. I would like to share two gems, put in my own words: innovations come from pressure; and, to become better writers we need to write more.   This truth is the same for academic composition- at least in my opinion. Every thesis chapter that I write, revise, and rewrite, has made me a better writer. The academy, at least in South Africa, is pretty good at teaching research and data mining skills but not how to write. Yet, the art of writing is one of the most powerful tools of communication and provides a snapshot of who we are.

What does your snapshot reflect?