The and All Natural History Museums: Purpose, Leadership and Responsibilities

Move of millions of specimens from South Kensington prompts questions about natural history museum responsibilities to science and society

In a previous episode, I was critical of an ill-advised plan to move the herbarium from Kew Gardens to the Thames Valley Science Park.  A parallel plan, already in motion by the Natural History Museum in London, is preparing to relocate millions of specimens from South Kensington to the same science park in Reading.  Is this a good idea?  The short answer is no.  It is never a good idea to fragment collections or to create space between collections and experts who must access them for study or the public who should be invited to marvel at them.

I am not so naïve as to think that such a move, while not good, could not become necessary at some point in time.  Real estate in South Kensington is limited and among the most expensive in the world.  A natural history museum located there and doing its job by growing collections to keep pace with the rate of extinction would, sooner than later, outgrow its footprint.  That said, we should still ask whether a move is absolutely necessary at this time; what the motives, assumptions and rationale for the decision are; and what, exactly, the move is intended to accomplish.  And, while we’re at it, why not ask why collections are not growing at a rate commensurate with that of the ongoing mass extinction event.

Some arthropods in the spirit collection, Natural History Museum, London.  Photo: John Cummings.  CC BY-SA 3.0 DEED.

The Natural History Museum is revered around the world.  Its name is synonymous with excellence in systematic biology and studies of evolutionary history.  I have a special love, affection and deep respect for the Museum, having been privileged to serve as keeper and head of entomology. This gave me personal insights into its spectacular collections, history and contributions to science.  Having worked closely with its curators and taxonomists, I am in awe of their taxonomic knowledge, commitment to research excellence and scholarship, and professionalism.  They are simply the best in the world at what they do—at what every natural history museum should be known for doing.  The Museum has not only been at the forefront of species exploration for centuries, it has made discoveries and advances in theory that have shaped modern systematic biology, evolutionary thought, and our understanding of the living world, present and past.  From Richard Owen’s concept of homology to Darwin’s theory of evolution and the refinement of Hennig’s phylogenetic systematics, the Natural History Museum has remained at the vanguard of systematics and evolutionary history.  That is, until recent decades.

Unless systematics and collections are properly supported, this world-class reputation will not endure.  In recent years, the Museum’s emphasis on taxonomy, species exploration, and collection growth and development has declined.  Its research program,  once a paragon of excellence in taxonomy—the exploration, description, naming, study, and classification of earth’s species, their attributes, their distributions, and their evolutionary history—is now a hodgepodge of projects indistinguishable from the portfolio of any research university.  In fact, much of the research being done at the Museum could just as easily be carried out on any college campus. 

Preeminence in a fundamentally important area of science has been traded for second-class status in a sea of institutions engaged in ecology, genetics, conservation and other fashionable fields.  I say second class, not because excellent research is not done at the Museum, but because the limited size of its staff means that it cannot compete with a research university where there may be scores of research faculty in single departments, such as ecology or genetics, and hundreds of biologists on campus. Unless museums use their limited number of positions to create a critical mass of taxonomic expertise and leverage the vast information contained in collections, they lose their competitive advantage.  Further, the questions asked by systematic biology can only be answered with access to museum collections; questions whose answers will determine the future of life on earth, the quality of life for its human inhabitants, and the degree to which we understand the history and sources of our humanness and all living kinds.  Unless museums lead such research, we are condemned to what should be unacceptable ignorance about the living world and its origins.

Without a clear vision of its purpose, without a commitment to systematics, without courageous leadership, a museum becomes unmoored, floating about in the pursuit of fads in science in an effort to appear modern and relevant.  Moreover, when museums measure success in external funding and conformity to trendy research, they violate an implicit, sacred trust invested in them by society and the scientific community.  In becoming caretakers of the world’s great collections, these institutions took upon themselves important responsibilities.  Responsibilities that are being abdicated for short-term profits and the easier path of duplicating what research universities, institutes and government agencies are already doing.

Museums mimicking universities, rather than leading, is a betrayal of this trust.  Museums have value and relevance that cannot be duplicated at any price because it derives from collections accumulated over centuries and expertise in taxonomy that extracts from, and adds to, their information content.  If museums did not exist at the dawn of the greatest extinction crisis in human history then they would almost certainly be invented so that we could preserve evidence of biodiversity and evolutionary history. But because they already exist, we take them for granted and fail to see that a crisis of extinction is calling upon them to rise to the occasion and do great things.

Others can lead in conservation, but success will be constrained by the lack of fundamental knowledge about species and clades. They can use DNA barcodes to identify species, but without museum research, the names lead to little information.  They can use names of species and higher taxa, but unless they are based on corroborated hypotheses, they cannot be trusted.  They can conduct molecular genetics research to augment morphological, fossil and developmental data, but they cannot duplicate or replace knowledge of species and clades derived from comparative, descriptive studies. They can pursue ecology, but will find it impossible to recognize more than 20% of the world’s species.  And people can know that the diversity of life is due to evolution, but be denied the chance to understand the actual history of evolution.

We must wake up and recognize that we are missing the last chance to explore the diversity and history of life on our planet; a rapidly disappearing chance that will never again exist.  Only if we remember what makes museums and systematics unique, and uniquely important, will good decisions, policies and priorities follow—and fewer mistakes be made. 

Ten such responsibilities seem especially important to me, all related to collections and systematics:

1.     Create memory and preserve evidence of biodiversity.  For the first time in Earth history, the opportunity exists to create memory of species diversity as it exists before the transition from one geologic epoch to the next.  Because humans are driving the extinction crisis, it is important that we know what we are destroying and assemble an archive of specimens that can be studied during and long after the coming mass extinction.

2.     Care for and use of collections.  While the physical care and preservation of specimens is a core responsibility for museums, an even greater one is the use of collections in systematics research to create knowledge.  Unless collections are joined with active taxonomy, the reliability of their information content erodes over time. Care means concern for information content, not just physical condition, of collections.

3.     Test and corroborate concepts behind the names of species and clades.  Identifying species with molecular evidence means little unless those species are based on explicitly testable hypotheses, and unless those hypotheses are repeatedly tested.  Collections-based research puts the meat on the bones of taxonomic concepts, assuring that names are a gateway to as much, and as reliable, knowledge as possible.

4.     Assure that taxonomy is viable, respected and productive.  Because taxonomy differs significantly from experimental biology, it must have its own champions who advocate for its support.  Museums, because of collections and in-house taxonomy, have a responsibility to educate the public and colleagues about the importance of a vibrant systematics community.  No one else can do so with equal credibility and, sadly, if museums are not taxonomy’s cheerleaders, no one else will be.  Museums are the de facto leaders of systematic biology, and they are failing to lead.

5.     Enable and inform conservation biology.  Museums, with limited staff and resources, should not be in the business of conservation, but leaders in the business of making effective conservation possible.  We cannot be certain that we are conserving species that we do not know exist and cannot recognize.  And without a phylogenetic classification as a framework, it is impossible to set conservation goals that assure that surviving species are as diverse as possible.

6.     Document and tell the story of evolutionary history.  Darwin’s theory of evolution—itself a by-product of taxonomic knowledge—was a beginning, not an end.  We have only begun to explore details of the fascinating history of the diversification of life.  Only with collections and a vibrant taxonomic research program can we come to fully understand the diversity and history of life at the granularity of characters, species and clades.

7.     Create and maintain taxonomic knowledge.  Only when species descriptions, revisions, monographs, phylogenetic analyses, and classifications are kept up to date can biology have access to reliable knowledge and an evolutionary-historical context in which to interpret it.  Collections-based institutions can test, expand and maintain such taxonomic knowledge most efficiently.

8.     Enable biomimicry.  Over billions of years, species have solved most problems of survival.  We have always found inspiration in nature to solve problems, too, but this is now being formalized as biomimicry.  Collections and taxonomy assure that models and solutions found among species are available to innovators and problem-solvers.

9.     Grow and develop collections.  Living in the early years of a mass extinction, museums have a responsibility to grow and develop collections—guided by leading edge taxonomy—as rapidly as species are disappearing.  The goal for the community of museums should be nothing less than a full representation of the diversity of species as it currently exists.  This both establishes a baseline for the biosphere and preserves evidence of evolutionary history at the granularity of species.

10.  Educate.  Taxonomy and collections are undervalued because the rigorous science behind them, and all that they teach us, are unfamiliar to experimentalists, virtually unknown to the public, and taken for granted.  The public face of museums—from exhibits to web sites—should be used to educate and inspire the public and fellow scientists about the unique mission of systematics to explore, describe, understand, and classify the millions of life forms of our planet.

If museums meet these responsibilities, then the best decisions and priorities will be clear to them.  Valuable positions for taxon experts will not be wasted duplicating research already being done at dozens of other institutions.  Online images of specimens will not be confused with the information potential in studying actual specimens.  Functions of research and curation will not be seen as separate endeavors.  Exhibits parroting pop science topics will not be regarded as an acceptable substitute for teaching the public about species discoveries, evolutionary history, and the profound impacts of taxonomic knowledge.  And the separation of taxon experts from collections will be seen for tragedy that it is.  If collections must be shuffled off to remote places, then it should be because they are growing rapidly in response to the biodiversity crisis, not because they are being digitized or warehoused.

Good institutions are accomplished followers, adept at mimicking more successful ones, and at recognizing and seizing opportunities that increase the amount of financial support available to them.  Great institutions are confident leaders who, guided by a clear vision of their purpose and remaining true to their mission, create their own opportunities through excellence, accomplishments, and inspiring goals.