Saving Systematics: Professionals

There are important roles for amateurs in taxonomy, but an essential one for professionals

“Speeding up the pace of taxonomy through the Internet and technology, although desirable, is not enough to stimulate a growing taxonomic foundation.  For this, systematics needs theoretical training, more professionals, a lasting commitment to collections, and recognition as a robust science by peers and policy-makers, without which taxonomy itself may fall victim to extinction.” — de Carvalho et al. 2005

Pearson et al. (2011) paint a bleak picture for the future of professional systematics, suggesting that much of what taxonomists do could be handed off to an army of well-meaning amateurs.  While it is true that there are more, and more meaningful, roles for amateurs in taxonomy than in most fields of science, it remains critically important that taxonomy consists, at its core, of a large cadre of professionally educated and properly resourced researchers if our knowledge of life on earth and its history are to advance as a science. The theoretical foundations and philosophical justifications for modern taxonomy, and the breadth of considerations involved in taxonomic research, make doctoral-level education more necessary than ever; more necessary than in fields where an adequately-trained technician may perform rote data gathering in a laboratory.   

Amateurs can and should be trained to assist in species exploration and, depending upon their intelligence, competence, motivation and experience, this may include sophisticated aspects of taxonomy.  There are even important roles for amateurs with a more passing interest, from the collection and preparation of specimens to becoming sufficiently trained to record field observations, sort specimens, and perform other functions.

The word amateur has, for easily understood reasons, come to have a negative connotation.  It is not surprising that, as a rule, amateurs do not contribute at the same level of excellence as a highly-educated specialist.  The most formidable glass ceiling for amateurs has to do with the theoretical foundations associated with contemporary hypotheses of homology, synapomorphy, species, monophyly and other concepts.  Much of the actual work of making observations is very much within the reach of a highly-motivated amateur willing to put in the long hours required to gain specialized knowledge, experience and skills.  It remains that a very significant number of newly described species each year are named by amateurs, including more than half of new species reported from Europe. Assuming this continues, we would be well advised to take steps to assure that such work is as good as it can be.

The dark cloud over amateurs is unfortunate in a sense, because the word amateur refers to something done purely for the love of it, and that is a motivation to be admired.  While current sensibilities prefer to think of scientists as cold, objective, almost robotic, researchers in white lab coats, surrounded by expensive equipment in a gleaming laboratory, it remains that the best science—taxonomy included—is associated with a deep love for that being studied.  Taxonomic work can be done to a high level of competence in mercenary fashion, out of necessity or in response to an opportunity, but the very best revisions and monographs today, as in the past, are visibly inspired works, going above and beyond the ordinary as a reflection of an intense interest in, and love for, species themselves. This may sound touchy-feely in today’s technology-laden research atmosphere, but it is a rare example of the convergence of the best of our humanness with the rigor of science.  The same is true elsewhere in science.  Great breakthroughs and contributions are frequently associated with scientists possessing an unusual passion, sometimes obsession, for their research which, viewed from a certain angle, is recognizable as a kind of love.  It may not be eros, or sexual love, in the vocabulary of ancient Greece, but the instant of discovery of a new species, or realization of a homologous connection between disparate characters, comes as close as one can with their clothes on.

It remains a fact that some of the best taxonomy ever done was published by amateurs. Taxonomy did not exist as a profession during much of its early history, and even today there arise some number of highly-motivated, largely self-taught, impressively capable taxon experts.  Assuming appropriate knowledge and appreciation for avoiding the noise of genetic variation, such amateurs may become quite adept at correctly recognizing species new to science, competently describing their characters, and astutely differentiating them from their known relatives.

While a lack of knowledge of phylogenetic theory and philosophy may lead an amateur to make mistakes that a professional would not, the reason amateur has such a poor connotation comes from those whose work is, for lack of a better word, amateurish.  By far, the very worst taxonomy is done by amateurs who would do science a favor by finding some other hobby.  This is often seen in visually attractive groups, like butterflies and tarantula spiders, where amateurs may suffer from what Neil Evenhuis calls the mihi itch: the desire to see your name associated with new species.  So motivated, and poorly educated, such amateurs name new species based on every little morphological difference they can find.  This is just plain bad taxonomy and it creates an unnecessary burden of work for competent taxonomists who must go back and clean up the mess.  It is better that taxonomy be done well the first time.  With millions of species yet to be discovered, we have work enough. Excellence is best assured when the enterprise is led, and the standards established, by professionals.

Amateurs in taxonomy work on a landscape that is as lawless as the Wild West.  The codes of nomenclature permit amateurs to name new species, so long as basic rules are followed.  Thus, while amateurs can, and I believe should, make important contributions, it is critical that we take steps to weed out and discourage bad taxonomy and support and encourage amateurs to work to their highest level of competence.  Software exists today which could be adapted to educate, then test, the knowledge of aspiring amateurs so that they become more consistently competent.  And professionals leading teams to explore species could benefit greatly by including such well-trained amateurs.  But Pearson et al.’s vision of a taxonomic future dominated by amateurs would be a tragic mistake we would soon and long regret.  Taxonomy has made tremendous progress as a science and is today as sophisticated and rigorous as any other.  Species represent carefully considered hypotheses. Classifications reflect our best assessment of phylogenetic relationships. And names are more reliable and informative than ever. Turning all of this over to amateurs would turn back time, abandon hard-won advances and standards, and obstruct progress in our knowledge of earth’s inhabitants and evolutionary history.

Taxonomy is currently a victim of cynicism, greed, technology, hubris, experimental bias, and group-think.  Just as it would be misguided to reverse progress in theoretically-grounded taxonomy, it is wrongheaded to seek expedient ways to identify species at the cost of failing to make our hypotheses about species, characters and clades, and our classifications, as scientifically rigorous as possible.

Too many museums and universities have become greedy, calculating businesses that the wolves of Wall Street would admire.  Too many universities have abandoned broad, balanced curricula to make way for faculty hires that bring in the most grant money.  Such universities often have formulas, whether openly admitted, or not, by which the approval of a faculty line is determined by prospects for financial gain; a new faculty line is seen as a monetary investment expected to generate handsome returns in annual grant dollars.  And many natural history museums are even worse.  Aimlessly conforming to popular trends in science, they shamefully turn away from their responsibility to lead the growth, development, and highest uses of collections in their care.  What were once world leaders in species exploration and classification, mapping the biosphere, and recovering details of evolutionary history have foolishly become second-rate, bush-league universities with the same misguided values and lack of leadership, vision and courage. 

As we face the greatest extinction event in tens of millions of years, this is not a time to go along with fads.  It is a time to clarify and recommit to taxonomy’s mission; to augment professionals with trained amateurs, not replace them; to pursue all relevant sources of evidence, not limiting ourselves to any one; and to grow and develop natural history collections like there is no tomorrow, because, for millions of species, there is not.

References

De Carvalho, M. R., et al. 2005. Revisiting the taxonomic impediment. Science 307, p. 353.

Evenhuis, Neal L. 2008. The “Mihi itch” a brief history. Zootaxa 1890: 59-68.

Pearson, D.L., Hamilton, A.L., and T.L. Erwin. 2011. Recovery plan for the endangered taxonomy profession. BioScience 61, 58-63.

Wheeler, Q.D., Raven, P.H., and E.O. Wilson. 2004. Taxonomy: Impediment of expedient? Science 306, p. 285.