There was a bit of confusion yesterday involving my post about the defeat of Italian female boxer Angela Carini by Algerian boxer Imane Khelif, who in all likelihood is male but identifies as female. The bout was over in 42 seconds after Khelif delivered a few powerful blows to Carini’s head. She then refused to shake hands with Khelif, cried, and then explained that she was fighting for her late father (she later apologized for the unsportswomanlike gesture of not congratulating her opponent). Most of the videos that accompanied the tweets have been taken down by the Olympics for copyright reasons, but I found one on Emma Hilton’s site:
The IOC need to held accountable for this. https://t.co/gVaiZukxch
— Emma Hilton (@FondOfBeetles) August 1, 2024
The first thing I’d like to clear up is my use of the word “transwoman” to refer to Khelif. I meant it to refer to the big brouhaha in sport and gender, which refers to the contested presence of genuine transwomen (i.e., natal males who transition to a female gender identity) competing against women in women’s sports. I kept using the term when applying it to Khelif, but Khelif may indeed have assumed that he/she was a biological female since birth, since Khelif was raised as a female from birth in Algeria. If that’s the case, then Khelif didn’t really “transition”. If you use the “trans” term loosely, I suppose you could say that Khelif transitioned from the biological condition of being a male to having the identity of a woman, but since this wouldn’t have been a conscious transition, I thus gladly retract the use of the term “transwomen” for Khelif. One could, I suppose, call Khelif an “intersex” person, but those afflicted with disorders of sex development (DSDs) prefer the term “person with a disorder of sex development”. Also, definitions of “intersex” vary among researchers.
But that’s a semantic issue. The main question is this: was Khelif a biological male, went though male puberty, and then wound up with the strength, size, speed, and punch-strength advantages that go along with male puberty—advantages that do not go away fully even with testosterone-suppression? All evidence points to “yes”, and my judgment was based on the fact that Khelif had an XY karyotype, the physical appearance and size of a man, and had previously failed testosterone tests and, on that basis, was denied the opportunity to box women.
Now the only way to ascertain for sure what Khelif’s sex was is to do an ultrasound or some kind of noninvasive examination to see if there are ovaries (making a female) or testes (making a male) or both (making a very rare hermaphrodite). This hasn’t been done, but the conclusion of those with more expertise than I is that it’s probable that Khelif was a biological male with a DSD and had gone through male puberty, thus having the same advantage against biological women as either a transwoman or, in Khelif’s case, a male afflicted with a DSD who has suppressed his testosterone. If this is the case, the Olympics screwed up in its last-minute method of determining whether an athlete can compete against biological women (the IOC has said that each sport should make its own rule). At the bottom I say what I would judge to be necessary and sufficient tests to determine whether a person is qualified to compete against biological women.
Let’s look at someone who knows the ins and outs of this: Carole Hooven of Harvard University, author of the well known book T: The Story of Testosterone, the Hormone that Dominates and Divides Us. There is a chapter on sports and gender, too. It’s an excellent book and I recommend it highly.
Hooven issued a long tweet yesterday explaining Khelif’s likely condition. And yes, Khelif appears to be a male with a DSD. Go to the tweet to read the whole thing:
I could have sworn I included the graphs! Sorry. Here they are. pic.twitter.com/dLXqMaaMYK
— Carole Hooven (@hoovlet) August 1, 2024
Here’s an excerpt from the long tweet (my bolding). Note that it’s all about one particular DSD, suggesting that this is what Hooven thinks that Khelif has:
First: People living with DSDs should be treated with compassion and understanding, and receive any heath care they need. These can be challenging conditions for individuals and their families. But when male athletes have DSDs that give them an advantage over females, and they compete in the female category, this raises concerns about safety and fairness, and forces discussion of the relevant physical traits.
Athletes with XY DSDs who have testes (usually internal), XY sex chromosomes, male-typical levels of testosterone, and functional androgen receptors are often described as females with “hyperandrogenism,” i.e., abnormally high levels of testosterone. They experience physical benefits of this high testosterone during puberty, which translate into athletic advantages over females. The issue for sports is that athletes with the XY DSD 5-alpha reductase deficiency (5-ARD), may be socialized as female, may be legally female, and may live and identify as female; but they are male.
These individuals are usually born with female-appearing genitalia, which can lead to being sexed as female. Here’s why. 5-ARD is caused by a mutation in the gene that codes for the enzyme 5-alpha reductase, which converts testosterone into a more potent androgen, DHT. This androgen interacts with the androgen receptor, like testosterone, and is necessary for the typical development of male external genitalia (penis and scrotum) and the prostate. Without DHT, female-typical external genitalia develop. At the end of this monster post is a graphic of the relevant steroid production pathway, from my book T: The story of Testosterone.
DHT is also responsible for male-pattern baldness and dark, coarse facial hair, which is why people with the condition have smooth skin that can give a feminine appearance.
The “decision makers” are aware that athletes with 5-ARD are male, and that they experience the benefits of male puberty. The requirement to reduce their testosterone to typical female levels isn’t discriminatory, since these are males who are asking to compete in the female category. But more significantly, all the relevant scientific evidence shows that reducing male T in adulthood does not undo the physical benefits of male puberty.
And the relevant reference:
Here’s more detail about T, DHT, and male advantage in strength and speed.
I’ve been asked if men with the DSD 5-ARD (in which ppl cannot convert testosterone into the more potent androgen DHT) experience the typical benefits of male puberty, that would give them an advantage in strength and speed relative to women. This is relevant to questions about whether male athletes with 5-ARD should be allowed to compete in the female category. This is an excellent question, because it could be the case that DHT is necessary for the development and maintenance of male-typical muscle, lean body mass and strength. If that were the case, then people with 5-ARD might not have a typical male advantage, because the lack of DHT would perhaps lead to a more feminine pattern of fat, lean body mass and strength. I’ve wondered about this myself and have looked into the evidence.Perhaps the top researcher in this area, Shalendar Bhasin, who is scrupulous in his methods, has examined this very question. The answer appears to be: no, testosterone does not need to be converted to DHT to exert its typical anabolic effects. These findings are reported in his 2012 study, “Effect of Testosterone Supplementation With and Without a Dual 5α-Reductase Inhibitor on Fat-Free Mass in Men With Suppressed Testosterone Production, A Randomized Controlled Trial.” (It is linked to below—and since it’s paywalled, I’ve included the graphs that show comparisons between the placebo and DHT— inhibited conditions, with no difference on the various outcomes.)
The paper is actually free; click on the link below to go to it, and follow the link to “get pdf” or go to the pdf directly here:
The paper shows, as Hooven notes above, that this DSD has its normal effects on the body even though testosterone isn’t converted to the androgen DHT. In other words, 5-ARD males produce testosterone that, even though not converted to DHT, sill has its normal effects on masculinizing the body.
A bit on the condition from the National Library of Medicine:
The presentation of patients with a deficiency of 5α-RD2 can vary. This condition is an autosomal recessive disorder of sex development associated with the mutation in the SRD5A2 gene. No direct association has been seen between the phenotype and the genotype in this disorder. Two individuals with the same gene defects in SRD5A2 can present with completely different phenotypes. This shows that other additional genes probably control the phenotype and the gene under discussion.[8]
The newborns might have genitalia resembling labia majora, which would be unfused labioscrotal folds. The phallus in these children may look more like a clitoris than a penis.[9] At the same time, the internal genitalia in these children include seminal vesicles, epididymis, vas deferens, and ejaculatory duct, and one may not see any Mullerian structures. The testes in these children might be present in the inguinal sac, and very rarely, they can also be found within the abdomen. These children tend to be raised as females until puberty, when they start exhibiting virilization.[5] At puberty, the phallus may grossly enlarge to form a penis, the testes may descend into the unfused labioscrotal folds, the voice deepens, and a beard starts growing. The development of all these secondary sexual characteristics during puberty does not need the presence of DHT but only the presence of testosterone.[9]
Carole also gives a strong recommendation to this free podcast:
“Inclusivity” is given more weight than science, rationality, and fairness and safety for women. @Scienceofsport is right on. Give the most recent episode a listen. https://t.co/yY4Gjj37hL
— Carole Hooven (@hoovlet) August 1, 2024
So the questions that people are probably asking (my questions and my answers):
a.) Does Khelif have a DSD? Almost certainly, since the chromosomes, testosterone levels, and physiognamy suggest that Khelif is a biological male, but the genitalia probably are female-like, although we don’t know for sure. At any rate, there was some phenotypic trait that caused Khelif to be raised as a female.
b.) Was the DSD XY DSD 5-alpha reductase deficiency (5-ARD)? It’s likely since Hooven discusses it at length. This is in fact the same DSD that Caster Semenya had: according to the BBC:
The 2018 rules meant that Semenya could not compete in female track events over this distance without taking testosterone-reducing drugs.
She appealed against World Athletics’ proposal at the Switzerland-based Court of Arbitration for Sport (Cas), but eventually lost in what amounted to a landmark case in 2019.
It was in the Cas ruling that Semenya’s specific DSD was confirmed as 46 XY 5-ARD (5-alpha-reductase deficiency). People with this particular DSD have the male XY chromosomes. Some are assigned female or male at birth depending on their external genitalia.
Semenya told BBC Sport that she was “born without a uterus” and born “with internal testicles” and said: “I am a woman and have a vagina”.
Cas said, external athletes like Semenya with 5-ARD have “circulating testosterone at the level of the male 46 XY population and not at the level of the female 46 XX population”, which gives them “a significant sporting advantage over 46 XX female athletes”.
Given that Semenya has the equipment (though perhaps not the ability) for making sperm, Semenya is biologically male. So is Khelif, though people are loath to say it or use the pronoun “he” (check their Wikipedia entries). It’s possible that Khelif has another DSD, PAIS D (partial androgen insensitivity syndrome), but this is less likely based on phenotype; and this condition is rarer.
. . . which leads us to the next question:
c.) Is Khelif a man? if he has 5-ARD and went through male puberty, producing testosterone at higher male levels (these don’t overlap with female levels), levels that require suppression to meet sports standards, the answer is yes. Female-like genitalia don’t make someone a biological woman if they have testes (see above).
But there is one last question, and the most relevant one.
d.) Should Khelif be competing in women’s boxing? Given what we know of his size, strength, and performance, as well as his XY status and what must have been high testosterone, the answer is, at present, no. Suppressing testosterone in his case will not eliminate any athletic advantages Khelif accrued by going through male puberty. But further investigation would be useful (see below).
e.) How should sports organizations determine if someone has a sex-based athletic advantage? Ideally, it should be a three-part test. First, are there testes or ovaries? If there are testes, that’s already a sign of male advantage, particularly when accompanied by an XY karyotype. Further tests can examine testosterone levels and exposure as well as sequencing of the DNA to see if there are genetic mutations causing DSDs. But there’s already enough information from Khelif’s obvious athletic advantages and his XY karyotype to mandate banning him/her from boxing until these other issues are examined.
Finally, let me add that most people having DSDs are not athletes in the limelight, and in fact have to deal with medical, emotional, and social issues that arise in conjunction with having DSDs. These people should not be regarded as freaks, have the same moral and legal equality as the non-afflicted, and should be treated with empathy
h/t: Carole Hooven for discussion and clarification
Measles cases are increasing. Kids and even many adults are at risk of injury and death from this vaccine-preventable illness that should be a historical footnote.
The post Measles 2024: ‘Merica, are you okay? first appeared on Science-Based Medicine.It seems obvious that we live in the era of cancel culture, but what does that mean, exactly? To many on the left, “cancel culture” is merely a whiny self-defensive term offered by justifiably banished academics, writers, and celebrities—“cis white intellectuals” as one online writer disdainfully put it—who face no realistic threats to their freedom or livelihoods. Others think it is an overblown label for the eternal ideological wars between the left and the right, in which each extreme complains that the other side is censoring them while working hard to censor that other side. Or is cancel culture something new, describing a phenomenon that has become far more insidious, widespread, and dangerous for free speech and democracy? Spoiler alert: I’m going with the latter.
Let’s stipulate at the outset that most people would prefer that their political opponents, intellectual enemies, and annoying challengers to their opinions would just shut up and go away. There’s nothing new about that desire, which has manifested throughout the centuries in the censorship, shunning, banishment, or imprisonment of those daring to differ. In my own lifetime, I have observed a dizzying turn of the academic and political wheels, as ascendant conservatives try to oust Commie-pinko-oversexedsocialist liberals until ascendant liberals try to oust fascist-racist-puritanical-authoritarian conservatives.
I was born in the heyday of the Red Scare (1947–1957) and grew up watching the censorship or ostracism of anyone remotely tainted with membership in, or even holding supporting opinions about, left-wing groups. My older half-brother was dishonorably discharged from the U.S. Army in the early 1950s because of his prolonged and unrepentant association with a “known member of the Communist Party”—our father, who had briefly joined the Party in the 1930s. (The Supreme Court eventually overturned that discharge.)
Observing these right-wing efforts to stifle or expel liberals (defined as anyone less ideologically conservative than they, including other conservatives), I was optimistically, if delusionally, certain that the liberal commitment to free speech, open debate, and scientific evidence would prevail if the tables were ever turned. It was clear who the enemy was. In sexology, it was and remains religious fundamentalists eager to ban any research on sexuality they fear and detest (actually, all of it, but especially evidence of the normalcy of childhood sexual play, premarital sex, homosexuality, and masturbation). I could not have imagined, as Pogo, the star of Walt Kelly’s great comic strip, said, that “we have met the enemy—and he is us.” I could not have imagined how many liberal sexologists and other scientists today would be eager to ban research on sexuality that they fear and detest (especially evidence that disputes transgender activists’ claims of the safety and necessity of adolescent medical interventions). And not just ban this research—excoriate, expel, and attempt to cancel the publications, lectures, and even the careers of those who conduct it. Just ask the eminent sexologists Kenneth Zucker (for showing that the great majority of gender nonconforming young boys grow up to be gay, not trans), Stephen Levine (for questioning the claims of gender-affirming therapies), and evolutionary biologists Carole Hooven and Colin Wright, anthropologist Robert Lynch, and philosophers Alex Byrne and Holly Lawford-Smth (for arguing that there are two biological sexes). On that subject, I’m sure, these scientists would never have imagined being in bed with British Prime Minister Rishi Sunak.
Today, when I read accounts by consummate scientists such as anthropologist Elizabeth Weiss (this issue), who found herself caught between (1) the naïve but widespread belief that Native Americans were pacifists and (2) the empirical evidence, written in their bones, of their legacy of brutal battles, I see another light going out on the road to our national Endarkenment.
Cancel culture is the impulse to punish or expel anyone who says the wrong thing or holds the wrong beliefs.
I remember the first straw in the pile that would eventually disillusion me. In 2007, at my alma mater, Brandeis University, Donald Hindley, an esteemed professor of political science who had been at the university for 45 years, was explaining to his Latin American politics class the origin of the disparaging insult “wetback”—a slur against Mexican migrants entering Texas by swimming across the Rio Grande. One or two students were offended and immediately complained to the provost, who, in the words of Hindley’s eventual attorneys, “indulged the students’ fantasy that they were crusaders against racism.” She told Hindley that “The University will not tolerate inappropriate, racial and discriminatory conduct by members of its faculty,” also accusing him of inflicting “significant emotional trauma” on his students by forcing them to hear such an offensive term. As punishment, a monitor would sit in on his classroom for the rest of the term and he would have to attend racial-sensitivity training classes. This Hindley refused to do.
The university was barraged with messages from outraged faculty and alumni like me, along with public mockery and condemnation. I wondered if Brandeis still offered the brilliant course I had taken years earlier on the history of anti-Semitism, which caused no end of “significant emotional trauma” in every class meeting and reading, though we called it “education.” The provost backed down, ultimately telling Hindley the matter was closed and she trusted he had learned his lesson, whatever that was.
Looking back, I see that all the seeds of cancel culture— the impulse to punish or expel anyone who says the wrong thing or holds the wrong beliefs—were present in Hindley’s story:
Today, Hindley’s experience seems mild compared to the deluge of cases that followed. After all, he was not suspended or fired, nor was he a victim of social media mobs out for blood as compensation for a scratch. Mobs, real and virtual, have made it hard if not impossible for university presidents, company CEOs, and publishers to maintain positions of integrity and defend open debate, but mob influence is new only in the technology that allows it to congeal in a nanosecond and get that offender gone. At The New York Times in 2021, more than 150 young staffers felt entitled to howl for the firing of an honored older colleague, Donald McNeil, who had dared say the wrong word, even in an educational context. “Our community is in pain,” they wrote. They couldn’t possibly work with him and feel safe, they said. And they prevailed. No doubt they would look at my list of the elements of Hindley’s story that distressed and infuriated me and say “So? Brandeis did everything right.”
That is why cancel culture is so worrisome: not because it reflects the familiar political divide between left and right, but because it reflects a generational war between old and young, a war between liberals and illiberals across parties. Liberals in my generation are surprised, and not a little uncomfortable, to find themselves opposing illiberals to their left and supporting conservatives to their right, sharing concern about cancel culture’s methods and the take-no-prisoners ideology that justifies them.
In their extensive assessment of the origins and extent of the problem, Greg Lukianoff and Rikki Schlott’s The Canceling of the American Mind1documents case after enraging case that escalated in the years since Hindley. (The “American” mind extends to Canada and the UK.) Lukianoff, a lifelong liberal who joined the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression (FIRE) in 2001 and is now its CEO, is well positioned to survey the changing landscape and report from the trenches. Schlott, a “right-leaning libertarian,” is a Gen Z journalist. Their collaboration is the point: left and right staking out a path between extremes of both sides.
Lukianoff and Schlott’s definition of cancel culture is broader than the individuals who are “fired, disinvited, deplatformed, or otherwise punished” for speech that should be protected by America’s first amendment standards. Their definition adds “…and the climate of fear and conformity that has resulted.” In polls they cite, the majority of Americans of all parties and ages are reluctant to share their views on topics of politics, race, sexual orientation, gender, or religion, fearing loss of their jobs, grades, or social support. In the preface, social psychologist Jonathan Haidt, who was coauthor with Lukianoff on this book’s predecessor, The Coddling of the American Mind,2 notes that cancel culture “has metastasized and spread far beyond universities… [now infecting] journalism, the arts, nonprofits, K–12 education, and even medicine.” Because cancel culture seeks to punish anyone who says or does the “wrong” thing, absent knowledge of their motivation or context, people censor themselves. “Show me an organization where people are afraid to speak up, afraid to challenge dominant ideas lest they be destroyed socially,” Haidt adds, “and I’ll show you an organization that has become structurally stupid, unmoored from reality, and unable to achieve its mission.”
Many organizations and institutions now fit that description, including Harvard and other elite universities, the ACLU, even the Unitarian Universalist Church, and Lukianoff and Schlott offer an illuminating history of the “slow-motion trainwreck” by which they went off the rails. The “First Great Age of Political Correctness, 1985–1995” gave us the term, pretty much confined to college campuses; its pompous usages were eventually laughed off. But there was nothing funny about the ensuing shift of position by the political left, which began equating freedom of speech, which they had long championed as a bedrock liberal value, with freedom of hate speech, which they were determined to eradicate. Social justice goals began trampling the once-inviolate goal of protecting minority opinions, even if “hateful” opinions come from the minority individuals whose rights you otherwise care about. And who defines what “hate speech” is? We all agree that slurs and insults count. But am I guilty of hate speech if I publish a study whose findings you find hateful, hold an opinion about racism or gender that doesn’t conform to yours, or speak Words That Must Not Be Said? In the UK, Lukianoff and Schlott report, more than 3,000 people in 2016 alone were “detained and questioned by police for non-crime ‘hate incidents’ related to what they had said online.”
Between 1995 and 2013, Lukianoff and Schlott write, “viewpoint diversity on college campuses plummeted, tuition skyrocketed, and campus bureaucracy swelled.” In 2010, cancel culture “struck like lightning on college campuses.” The new generation of anti-free-speech activists began demanding speech codes, trigger warnings, and the monitoring of microaggressions. Speakers—the famous, the eminent, the provocative—were being disinvited, which made national news, which generated more speaker bans. DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) policies, at first a well-intentioned and overdue approach to making universities and companies more welcoming of people of color, have become, Lukianoff and Schlott document, an “ideological litmus test” that faculty and students question at their peril. Students applying for admission and scholars applying for academic positions must display evidence of their commitment to diversity and social justice, but only some kinds of diversity are acceptable: if you care about including working class people, economically disadvantaged people, or conservative people, forget it. Everyone knows the rule: conform or you’re out.
Two other societal factors fed into cancel culture. By 2013, university administrators had enacted policies that accommodated new student “demands” because they couldn’t afford not to. Once students became high-paying consumers rather than, well, students, administrators had to retain them no matter how badly they behaved, no matter how many rules of civil discourse they violated. With a student’s high tuition at stake, deciding between a professor’s expertise and a student’s hurt feelings was a no-brainer. And why the hurt feelings? The year 2013, as Haidt and Lukianoff have argued, also marked the emergence of a generation of overprotected, “overcoddled” children. In their view, parents’ panic over their children’s physical and emotional safety led them to sharply curtail their children’s free play and independence, while intervening constantly to protect their children from the challenges, shocks, setbacks, teasing, risks, disappointments, anxieties, and losses that we all need to become socially and emotionally competent. The result was a cohort of fearful, fragile young adults obsessed with finding safe spaces and safe ideas, with trigger warnings to help them avoid dangerous ideas.
A “trigger warning,” says the Cambridge Dictionary, is “a statement at the beginning of a piece of writing, before the start of a film, etc., warning people that they may find the content very upsetting, especially if they have experienced something similar. Trigger warnings are supposed to protect people from posttraumatic flashbacks.” Enabled by the expanding traumatology industry, which blurred the line between “I feel distressed” and “I feel traumatized,” trigger warnings eventually became almost meaningless, because one person’s “trigger” (a cat who looks just like their dear departed Boots) is nothing to a person who hates cats. If everything can be a trigger for someone, where does it end? It doesn’t, at least on the website doesthedogdie.com, where you can find “crowdsourced trigger warnings” for anything that might upset you while viewing a show or reading a book. Personally, I would welcome a chocolatechip- ice-cream warning to protect me from myself.
In Triggered Literature: Cancellation, Stealth Censorship and Cultural Warfare,3 John Sutherland, emeritus professor of Modern English Literature at University College London, wades into this controversy with entertaining reflections from a lifetime of teaching. We rarely burn books literally any more, he begins, but triggering is but one of “a range of other impositions on the creative act and product, namely, cancellation, prepublication bowdlerisation, suppression, ‘red flagging’, semi-tolerance,” and of course, the sensitivity reader, “creative literature’s superego.” Naturally he does not welcome these “impositions,” but he is sympathetic to the reasons for them, including #MeToo, Black Lives Matter, changing demographics in society and universities, and, as many have noted, the “whopping cost of fees” that transformed students in the UK and U.S. into “consumers wielding the big bazooka: purchaser power.” When, in 2014, the head of English studies at UCL dismissed trigger warnings by saying they were “treating people as if they were babies, and studying literature is for grownups,” Sutherland comments wryly that “There was a cheering chorus of ‘hear, hear!’ from those who saw themselves as grown(er) up(er) than fractious students with weak knees. But the tide was with youth.” Indeed it was, and by 2022, he reports, “British universities had covertly triggered over a thousand texts,” including the work of Shakespeare, Chaucer, Austen, Brontë, Dickens, Woolf, Twain, and even Agatha Christie.
Yet Sutherland’s take is not the familiar “woe are we” of an older generation. Northampton University, he tells us, triggered George Orwell’s 1984 for its “challenging issues related to violence, gender, sexuality, class, race, abuses, sexual abuse, political ideas and offensive language”—the offensive language being bollox. Sutherland does not regard this decision, as the press did and as I do, as “egregious snowflakery” but a result of “careful, legitimately sensitive reading.” He himself falls between seeing triggers as “utter wokery” and “responsible pedagogic practice”: “Triggering is essentially an alert. Done responsibly it does not erase or meddle; it stimulates curiosity and thought.” Agreed, though presumably that is what good instructors have always done when introducing their students to the readings at hand.
Sutherland begins with brief news stories, without comment, simply as signs of the times “of where we are and where we’re going.” In Part Two, he analyzes a variety of forms of control on literature, the “stealth censorship” of his subtitle, from creation to production to consumption. In Part Three, he provides “free-range meditations on triggered works,” concluding with a close examination of Thackeray, the Victorian author he most loved for “the sound of his rich clubman prose rising off the page.” Yet now, in his ninth decade, he confesses that his love for Thackeray is fading, “self-triggered, one might say.” Now he sees the “racist vein” that disfigures most of Thackeray’s fiction with its ugly portrayals of “darkeys,” “poltroons,” and “blackamoors.” Thackeray was an avowed supporter of the American confederacy and slavery; why, Sutherland asks of himself, did he not see this “suppurating stain” on Thackeray’s novels when he was younger? And what to do about teaching his novels now—try to sanitize them, as some have done with Huckleberry Finn, or not bring the matter up? “My hunch,” he concludes, “is that, without anyone saying much about it, Thackeray will slowly sink into oblivion… He is [already] no longer important enough to trigger.”
Where are matters today? FIRE’s cases have not abated; 2020 “was the worst year for free speech FIRE had seen in our history,” Lukianoff and Schlott report. “Cancellations exploded, both on campus and beyond.” Optimistically, they end their book with a chapter on “what to do about it”—suggestions for employers, parents, publishers, and everyone else. In my view, most solutions must start at the top, as the University of Chicago did in 2015, notifying incoming students that they would not be shielded “from ideas and opinions they find unwelcome, disagreeable, or even deeply offensive”; already more than 100 colleges have signed on to the full Chicago Statement. If changes are not institutionalized, it will be left to individuals to decide whether to conform to keep their jobs or protest and risk trolls, suspension, media mobs, and, yes, cancellation. Nevertheless, cracks in the DEI’s ideological edifice are beginning to widen. Some solutions are bottom up, coming from individuals unwilling to conform. They are finding more allies every day. In other eras, they were called the resistance.
About the AuthorCarol Tavris is a social psychologist and writer on many topics in psychological science. Her books include Mistakes Were Made (But Not by Me), with Elliot Aronson; Estrogen Matters; and The Mismeasure of Woman. A Fellow of the Association for Psychological Science, she has received numerous awards for her efforts to promote science, skepticism, critical thinking, and gender equity.
ReferencesPanspermia is an innately attractive idea that’s gained prominence in recent decades. Yet, among working scientists, it gets little attention. There are good reasons for their relative indifference, but certain events spark renewed interest in panspermia, even among scientists.
The appearance of Oumuamua in our Solar System in 2017 was one of them.
Panspermia is the hypothesis that life can travel throughout the Universe by hitching an unintended ride with space dust, meteoroids, asteroids, comets, and even rogue planets.
It’s an ancient idea, which only increases its resonance for some. The Greek philosopher Anaxagoras was the first to propose it. He coined the term ‘panspermia’ and said that the Universe was full of life and that some of it fell to Earth. It remains on the fringe of science because it can’t explain how life started, and it’s not testable. But it is enduring.
Oumuamua’s appearance sparked renewed interest in Panspermia. After the object came and went rapidly in 2017, scientists attempted to determine what it actually was. Maybe it was a comet, maybe it was an asteroid, maybe it was a chunk of frozen hydrogen. Many hypotheses were presented. Now, we simply call it an interstellar object, or ISO.
From the perspective of panspermia, Oumuamua’s classification isn’t the most pressing concern. It was a visitor to our Solar System from elsewhere, and that’s the most salient point.
In a new paper, a trio of researchers examine how many of these types of objects might exist and what properties they’d need to protect and transport life throughout the galaxy. The paper is titled “The Implications of ‘Oumuamua on Panspermia.” The lead author is David Cao, a high school student who also served as an intern at the Johns Hopkins University Applied Physics Laboratory.
“Panspermia is the hypothesis that life originated on Earth from the bombardment of foreign interstellar ejecta harbouring polyextremophile microorganisms,” the authors write. “By utilizing ‘Oumuamua’s properties as an anchor, we estimate the mass and number density of ejecta in the ISM.”
Throughout their work, they acknowledge that “panspermia is an extraordinarily difficult theory to quantitatively model and assess.” But it’s still worth an attempt because of Oumuamua. “The recently discovered ‘Oumuamua merits a reexamination for the possibility of panspermia, the hypothesis that life seeded on Earth from the bombardment of life-bearing interstellar ejecta and that life can be transferred from one celestial body to another.”
Panspermia is the idea that life is spread throughout the galaxy, or even the Universe, by asteroids, comets, and even minor planets. Credit: NASA/Jenny MottorThe trio determined the minimum size of ejecta needed to protect extremophiles from radiation, especially from supernovae. Intense gamma rays can sterilize ejecta if they’re not large enough for extremophiles to survive in their interiors, shielded by rock or water ice. Ejecta also needs to be large enough to protect any lifeforms from impact with another body. But the size depends on the nature of the ejecta.
“We consider the four most common elemental compositions of asteroids (chondritic, stony and metallic) and comets (water-ice) in our own Solar System: silicate, nickel, iron, and water-ice,” they write. Nickel has the highest attenuation and the smallest minimum size needed to shelter life. Water-ice requires the maximum size.
The authors explain, “We make an assumption that the number density abundances and varying compositions of interstellar ejecta mirror the content of minor bodies in our own Solar System.” Based on that, they settled on a minimum size of 6.6 meters.
They also tried to determine the likelihood that extremophiles could have seeded Earth, though they acknowledge that many of the factors involved are poorly understood and poorly constrained. In order to seed life, an ejecta carrying extremophiles had to have arrived at Earth early, before the earliest evidence of fossilized life. “Second, we estimate the total number of impact events on Earth after its formation and prior to the emergence of life (? 0.8 Gyr).”
They calculate impact rates for objects of different sizes. For objects at least 10 meters in diameter, they calculate that about 40,000 of them could’ve impacted Earth in its first 800,000 years.
This figure from the study shows the total number of collisions by minimum shielding depth for Earth’s first 800,000 years. The different dotted, dashed, and solid lines represent distribution slopes. Image Credit: Cao et al. 2024Existing estimates of the number of Earth-like planets in the Milky Way are available. Based on those, here’s what it all adds up to, keeping in mind all of the poorly constrained factors involved. “However, we find that panspermia is a plausible potential life-seeding mechanism for (optimistically) potentially up to ~ 105 (100,000) of the ~ 109 (one billion) Earth-sized habitable zone worlds in our Galaxy,” the authors write.
But the prospects that Earth itself was seeded by panspermia are very weak. “For the Earth in particular, we conclude that, independent of other hypotheses for the origins of life on Earth, panspermia remains improbable (< 0.001%).” In a way, it’s more of a thought experiment. The authors say that “the true relative probability for panspermia remains unknown.”
The panspermia idea will not disappear. It’s simply too compelling to discard, even though it cannot be tested.
Another way of looking at it is that Earth could be a source of panspermia rather than a receiver.
“The fraction of these rocky planets that possess magnetic fields, atmospheres, and liquid surface water capable of supporting life is currently unconstrained and unknown, but our work implies as many as 104 of these worlds in our Galaxy could be populated with life today via panspermia under the most optimistic assumptions that all of these worlds are capable of supporting ejecta-transported life, with Earth as one of the potential source planets.” The number could rise to 104 under the most optimistic conditions.
There are other factors to consider. We’re only beginning to determine the number of rogue planets or free-floating planets (FFPs). As we learn more about them and their abundance, the panspermia hypothesis will change. “The discovery of rogue-free floating planets (FFPs) suggests a significantly higher ISM ejecta number density than expected for large objects,” the authors explain.
This illustration shows a rogue planet travelling through space. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech/R. Hurt (Caltech-IPAC)Also, the number of ejecta and their mass haven’t been constant. For example, during the hypothesized Late Heavy Bombardment, a much larger number of objects were crashing into the Earth and the other Solar System bodies. How would that have affected panspermia?
“~4 Gyr ago, the Earth is thought to have experienced an unprecedented number of impact events
that consequently ejected matter into the ISM, the era of Late Heavy Bombardment,” the authors write. The rate of bombardment was between 100 to 500 times greater than the present rate. If other solar systems experienced similar events, there would be substantially more potential for panspermia.
The star formation rate also plays a role. “As more stars are formed, more mass will be ejected into the ISM in star formation regions, increasing the production of ISM ejecta number density,” the authors explain.
There are so many unknowns and so much conjecture that many scientists avoid the panspermia theory completely. But more and more data will keep coming our way, and as it does, the idea will be revised and reconsidered.
The Rubin Observatory Large Synoptic Survey Telescope will hopefully see its long-anticipated first light in early 2025. That telescope will undoubtedly detect many more ISOs and FFPs, filling in important gaps in our knowledge.
As that data comes in, expect more attention to be focused on the panspermia theory.
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