Open Letter To Carl

The following post started off as an e-mail response on the VERTPALEO list to a non-degreed enthusiast who has managed to remain astonishingly ignorant and naive over the past twenty years about how and why vertebrate paleontologists do things, in spite of the fact that this individual was well-known and knowledgeable on the dinosaur literature when I was just starting my undergrad degree. He has, as far as I can tell, gained no deeper understanding into how science or vertebrate paleontology works in all that time, and periodically bad-mouths researchers in spite of the fact that they provide him with a constant supply of dinosaur scientific literature that he needs to survive. Imagine, if you will, a baby that sucks on the teat of a woman who is not his mother, and then punches her because he thinks she is a selfish woman for eating and drinking so that she can produce milk. Yet he won't stop sucking (so to speak).

We will call him Carl.

Carl’s most oft-repeated bit of inanity in the last year or so is to accuse vertebrate paleontologists of what he calls “Daffy Duck syndrome” (or some such bullshit) because we allegedly go “MINE-MINE-MINE!” (i.e., we WANT vertebrate fossils found on private property so that we can do research and write papers and learn shit). I tried to explain the distinction between WANTING fossils and EXPECTING private land owners to hand them over, and why we would presume to act disappointed if a land owner reneged on a promise to let us have something. I wrote a response to Carl, which I am still pretty proud of. Let’s read!

Carl, despite periodic accusations on this list, I have never personally heard ANY American paleontologist say that they do not think landowners have the right to decide what happens with fossils found on their personal property, or that they want to enact legislation which will allow state or federal governments to confiscate fossils found on private property. This is an oft-repeated bit of horseshit. Such paleontologists may exist, but if they do they are few and far between.

Do we WANT fossils found on private land? Sure we do. Such fossils provide valuable scientific information, and are therefore of interest to us. If we had these fossils in our possession, we could write papers about them that you could then read. It is my understanding like you like collecting and reading papers on dinosaurs. Paleontologists need fossils to write papers for you, Carl. This does not mean we think land owners HAVE to give them to us.

However, once a land owner has specifically TOLD paleontologists that they may collect, there is a commitment of time and money that the paleontologist makes in collecting the fossils and preparing them. This time and money is wasted if the landowner reneges and takes the specimen back. If a specimen is published on, and especially if it is a type specimen, then there is also the loss of time and effort that went into writing the paper, as claims about the specimen are not longer testable by future researchers who cannot examine the specimen.

If the land owner had simply said "NO" when asked for permission to collect on their property, than these issues would not have even arisen. The paleontologist would simply have been sad and disappointed and found something else to do.

Or, imagine if Mickey Mouse agreed to give or sell Daffy Duck a house, and so Daffy got rid of his our old home and packed all of his duck stuff into a moving van, and then showed up at Mickey's house and Mickey and Minnie were like, psych, we are keeping the house, sorry about all the effort and trouble you went through for nothing, Daffy, ha ha! Daffy would be upset, wouldn't he? Wouldn't you feel sorry for Daffy, especially if he was going to let you sleep on his couch and criticize his house-acquiring habits without paying rent or helping keep the place picked up? There is a difference between saying that the homeowner does not have the right to decide what to do with their own home, and being upset that they reneged after they SAID they would give it to you and you spent time and money moving all of your stuff. Do you understand the difference, Carl?

Carl’s response can be paraphrased as “nuh-uh, you don’t know what researchers think.” I did not respond.

Feeling spurned by the academic community, Carl has found solace in the arms of commercial collectors, who make him feel welcome. He has made appeals on the VERTPALEO list for SVP to be more welcoming to commercial collectors, and was answered brilliantly and patiently by Eric Scott. To paraphrase, less patiently:

Commercial collection is not vertebrate paleontology. It is commercial collection. The goal of commercial collection is to make money through the commercial sale of vertebrate fossils. That is why it is called commercial collection. The goal of vertebrate paleontology is to learn about vertebrate fossils and what they tell us about extinct vertebrates. That is why it is called vertebrate paleontology instead of commercial collection. If the goal of vertebrate paleontology was to make money off the sale of vertebrate fossils, than vertebrate paleontology would be called commercial collection, which wouldn’t make any goddamn sense at all.

Commercial collectors and vertebrate paleontology can have mutually beneficial and informative relationships, but that does not change the fact that their fundamental goals are not the same. Otherwise commercial collection would be called vertebra…well, see the above paragraph. Scrupulous and helpful commercial collectors may be welcome guests in the vertebrate paleontological community, and provide useful information and resources, but this is still the Society of VERTEBRATE PALEONTOLOGY, not the Society of COMMERICAL COLLECTION. See the above paragraph again if you are getting confused.

For vertebrate paleontologists to do vertebrate paleontology, we need fossils in public repositories. For this reason, we do not SUPPORT the sale of vertebrate fossils to private collectors (although this is not the same as saying that we actively FIGHT the right of private individuals to sell their personal property). To sum up, we do not actively support commercial collection because we are trying to do vertebrate paleontology. Because this is the Society of Vertebrate Paleontology. It was founded by vertebrate paleontologists.

I Almost Forgot...

This was sent to us by Katie Loughney, a student at the University of Rhode Island doing work in the park. This is a real street in St. Louis.

Amen to that.

LNJ

Advice For Aspiring Researchers In Vertebrate Paleontology, Part 7: Are You A Scientist, Or Are You A Poser?

When I was a kid, I read a lot of dinosaur books. I thought I knew a thing or two about paleontology.

When I was seventeen, more than half my life ago, I was introduced to vertebrate paleontology first-hand via the volunteer program at the Denver Museum Natural History. I learned that I didn’t know jack shit. I learned how to prep and identify fossils, and how to read scientific papers. I learned how to do field work. I learned that vertebrate paleontologists were human beings who had fun and made mistakes and gossiped and liked to get drunk and laid. I smashed the Stegosaurus skull with my head the week that Jurassic Park came out and learned that I shouldn’t wear large hats that obstructed my peripheral vision. I learned what it was like to be around a group of people who were interested in what I was interested in and liked having me around.

Most importantly, I learned that contributing to vertebrate paleontology, whether through fossil preparation or writing papers, required working industriously and caring about what you produced, but did not require having an advanced degree.

Over the nearly twenty subsequent years that I have been at been at least peripherally involved in the field of vertebrate paleontology, first as a student and observer, and later as a researcher with my own particular project goals and interests, I have read and participated in myriad discussions on the Dinosaur and VERTPALEO mailing lists about the difference between “amateurs” and “professionals,” or what separates scientists from non-scientists.

I’ll explain what the distinction means to me. It’s pretty simple:

Some people care about figuring shit out. They are interested in learning things. In the process of learning things they realize that some things are known to be not well-understood, and that some things thought to be well-understood actually aren’t. Their response is to want to learn about these things and to try to improve the understanding of these things, both for themselves and for everyone else. They, familiarize themselves with past work on the subject, look at the available data very carefully, seek out new data, and then try to give a carefully crafted and well-informed opinion on the way things are. In the process of doing this work, they discover more and more things that are not well understood, and they plan out various projects to learn about them. These people also recognize that they are fallible, that they have to provide evidence for their ideas that stands up to critical scrutiny, and that they have to be able to address and convincingly refute alternative opinions for their own opinions to have validity. In the process of doing this work and fostering an intellectually honest attitude about themselves and what the produce, they earn the respect of the scientific community. These people are SCIENTISTS…regardless of whether they have degrees or not.

Some people care more about appearances. They want people to think that they do science, that they know what they are talking about, and that they are right and can’t be wrong. At least some of them actually believe these things. They want people to regard them as professionals, but they do not want to do the work necessary for that image to have substance. They do sloppy work that gets them citations, but does not provide solid data or compelling support for their ideas. They often self-publish so that their papers do not have to risk the excruciating healing fire of peer review. They ignore or give only the briefest of comment on the work of others who disagree with them so that readers will not be aware of dissenting opinions. They might do a few days of volunteer prep work or field work before giving up, and then spend years telling people that they are paleontologists. These people are POSERS…regardless of whether they have degrees or not.

Are you a scientist, or are you a poser?

The aforementioned arguments on the DML and VERTPALEO Lists often involve non-degreed dinosaur enthusiasts complaining about not being able to publish peer-reviewed papers (because they don’t have time, or can’t get access to any specimens, or whatever), or how they shouldn’t have to because peer-reviewed papers are overrated. As someone who wrote, re-wrote, re-re-re-wrote, and published their first peer-reviewed publication while still a college sophomore, both complaints smack of utter bullshit.

I am sick and tired of hearing people complain about how peer review is not a perfect process, because garbage still gets through the cracks. This is not unlike the claim of creationists that science is no better than pseudoscience because it is often wrong. Yes, science is often wrong, and peer review often fails…but it is much, much, much, much, much better than they alternative, and the overall quality of what comes out of the peer-review process is infinitely better than what went in.

I am also sick of hearing people claim that peer review promotes censorship and group-think. This is (mostly) bullshit. A reviewer does not have to agree with the views presented in a paper for the paper to be accepted, providing that a compelling appeal can be made to the editor. A reviewer may feel that a scathing criticism is unfair and misses the point…but even then, the criticism may still be used to improve the quality of the paper. It may be that the misunderstanding was due to the writer doing a poor job of explaining their evidence and arguments, or that the unfair criticisms predict biases and unjustified attacks that may assault the paper after publication. Either way, they can be used to improve the effectiveness of the paper by clarifying the writing and answering the potential unjustified criticisms in advance. See Bill’s recent post addressing both these points using the example of a paper we submitted in the past year (and some additional comments he just made to this post).

If you get rejected, you have an alternative recourse…resubmit it to another journal. If the rejection really does indicate incompetence, bias, or carelessness on the part of the editorial board and reviewers, then try a different editorial board. Consider the objections to the first submission, use them to improve the clarity and quality of the manuscript, and give it another try.

Or it may just be that your paper got rejected because it fucking sucks and should never have been written, because it presented shitty data and sloppy arguments, or was just badly written, contributes nothing to the scientific quest for knowledge and greater understanding. Either way, quit complaining and submit it to a peer-reviewed journal. I dare you. Can your ideas, data, and writing survive professional scrutiny or not? Are you a scientist, or are you a poser?

Even more frustrating than these complaints by non-degreed enthusiasts is when they are endorsed by degreed professionals who suggest that there is nothing wrong with self-publishing, and that holding them up to our standards is somehow elitist. To me, the implication that requiring non-professionals to submit to peer-reviewed journals is “elitist” is itself an elitist argument, because it implies that non-degreed professional can’t compete as legitimate scientists. It is insulting and false, and I can’t believe that non-degreed enthusiasts look on these individuals as "supportive" instead of patronizing.

There are individuals out there who are considered experts by degreed paleontologists, even though they themselves did not get PhDs, or any advanced degrees, or have advanced degrees in fields having nothing to do with paleontology. They nonetheless acquired expertise on paleontological specialties, write papers aimed at solving problems, and submit to journals and volumes which require them to improve and revise manuscripts. Some of them don’t publish much, but contribute to science through being first-rate preparators and field workers, and thereby contribute to science through the collection and protection of data. Jack McIntosh. Andrew Milner. Bill Parker. Greg Paul. Virginia Tidwell and other people I knew at the Denver Museum. Matt Brown. Jack Fucking Horner.

There is not some magic barrier that you cross that takes you from non-professional to professional. The first draft of the first paper you ever write will suck. The idea is to re-work it, get help and advice from scientists with more experience, and gradually gain an understanding of what science is trying to accomplish, what makes a paper work or not work, whether or not a paper is a useful contribution or not, and how to produce condensed, clear writing. This process may start in college at the undergraduate or graduate level, or may start without having any degree at all. You get to be a scientist through the acquisition of knowledge and experience. Paleontologists with degrees tend to be better scientists because they got experience in the process of getting their degrees, but it is the acquisition of experience that matters.

The goal of science is the construction of sound arguments built on solid data, all explained clearly enough that a reasonably intelligent and knowledgeable reader can absorb it. The goal of science is not to make people who don’t care about the construction and dissemination of knowledge FEEL like scientists by putting up with papers that are badly written and reasoned.

Science doesn’t care about how you feel. It just cares about what you produce. This isn’t the Special Olympics. We don’t hold separate competitions for retarded papers. You may have trained at a top-notch school, or trained on your own and acquired first-hand expertise just through hard work…but in the end, all that matters is whether or not you can compete. And if you can’t compete, please don’t shit in our sport, because we want the games to be good. We are building a body of knowledge that we want to be as reliable as possible. We care about the integrity and quality of science. We don’t care about your ego.

Are you a scientist, or are you a poser?

LNJ

p.s. In response to some of the comments, I just want to clarify: I would not describe anyone who doesn’t do scientific research as a “poser,” because most of them aren’t posing. I was not aiming at popular science writers, teachers, preparators, collection managers, or museum volunteers, or anyone involved in the field of vertebrate paleontology who does NOT want to do original research or contribute to the primary scientific literature. There are certainly innumerable ways that individuals can contribute to vertebrate paleontology that do not involve publishing. All I was trying to say is that if you DO want to publish scientific research, do it right. I reserve the term “poser” for someone who wants to be perceived as something in particular without actually doing it right.

Someone who communicates science to the general public, and does it effectively, is not a poser…they really are communicating science to the public. This does not make them a scientist, a term I would restrict to someone who figures out NEW things (i.e. does research), properly tortures their ideas and data with critical thinking and peer review to see what they are made of, and communicates them effectively to other scientists...and that is all right. There are lots of things to do in the field of vertebrate paleontology aside from research.

All of the jobs I listed above are important to vertebrate paleontology. Scientific researchers arguably need preparators and collection managers more than preparators and collection managers need researchers, and God knows that scientists need people who can explain to the general public exactly what it is that we do. Also, of course, one CAN be a preparator, collection manager, teacher etc. AND be a scientist at the same time, and there are plenty of individuals who juggle multiple tasks. I was introduced to verebrate paleontological research AND fossil preparation by Ken Carpenter, who at the time was a full-time fossil preparator without a PhD. It slowed down his research projects not a bit, and there were volunteers at Denver without ANY advanced degrees who had more scientific research papers in press by the time I started my graduate program than I still have now.

Huh. I'm a TOTAL poser. Nooooooooo!

The Science And Art Of Banagma: Preliminary Results

Since the dawn of time, one question has plagued mankind above all others: “What happens when you burn fruit?”

Together with other researchers from northern Arizona and the Dinosaur Discovery center in St. George, I set out to answer this question a month ago in Lisbon Valley, southern Utah. We chose this remote location due to the dangerous nature of the experiments (building big campfires while totally shitfaced). The experiments were very demanding and took a whole week.

The primary researchers were Tyler Birthisel, Rob Gay and myself, although we had assistance from Andrew Milner, Sarah Spears, and several others. Most of us were drunk. One member of the group prepared for the experiments by drinking most of a bottle of Jameson the night before I arrived, but the results were not conclusive as no fruit was actually burned and fruit burning didn’t actually factor into it at all. Also, getting really sick isn't really a result. They were just drinking. Who was it? I’m not going to say. The important thing is that she tried.

Bananas were chosen as the primary focus, because we were sitting around the fire and there happened to be bananas there and we were like, “Hey, I wonder what would happened if we put those in the fire?” So we did. Initial experiments were sloppy as the bananas were simply carelessly placed in the fire. They blackened and exuded a molten hot fruit semi-liquid which we decided to call “banagma.” We also decided to refer to the act of placing bananas in the fire to burn them as “banagma.”

Please note that a banana placed in the fire is not referred to as a “banagma.” It is just a banana that is burning. What are you, a fucking weirdo?

Subsequent experiments were more rigorous. We made observations while Tyler made carefully recorded our observations, which I timed with a stopwatch. He also carefully recorded our terminology, which we developed during the course of the experiment.

Additional experiments were attempted with tomatoes and a coconut, but they were uninspiring. The coconut was especially disappointing. We were hoping for an explosion, and got nothing; it just burned for a while, and then cracked open and leaked. Mike Getty cut it up and we ate it, and it was totally shit.

During the day, we occupied ourselves looking for fossils and measuring sections. Lisbon Valley has some interesting exposures of the Chinle Formation, which were deposited near the edge of the depositional basin during Late Triassic time. It only preserves the upper part of the Chinle Formation section (the Church Rock Member and an associated package of channel sandstones and mudstones called the Kane Springs beds), which lapped up against the edge of the Ancestral Rockies towards the end of the Chinle depositional sequence. They got some great fossil fish and trackways, and some phytosaur material. So we learned some things about Late Triassic paleontology and geology too.

Incidentally, Google tells me that “Banagma” is the name of a prostate researcher. I don’t know if that is important or not.

p.s. Tyler is an excellent field cook and made me awesome breakfasts and dinners all week, which I rewarded by sending him a huge box of gummy bears. Tyler likes gummy bears.