N.B. I also write for the Communications of the ACM (CACM). The following essay recently appeared on the CACMblog.
How often have you picked up a scholarly journal in a discipline far removed from your expertise, only to be stymied and mystified by the disciplinary jargon? It can be humbling and intimidating when one fails to understand the meaning of all the words in an article's title or the abstract. When coupled with the contextual knowledge often implicitly assumed by the authors, the gulf of understanding yawns wide and deep.
This epistemological and linguistic chasm separates and isolates even within the broad tent of our own discipline, which spans everything from the fundamental theory of computability to the professional practice of informatics. If you have any doubt, open the ACM Digital Library and scan a few articles in a specialty far removed from your own.
In a world where discoveries increasingly lie at the boundaries of traditional research disciplines, simplifying communication and encouraging multidisciplinary dialog and partnership have never been more necessary. In almost every case, computing is an essential element of disciplinary and multidisciplinary research. Thus, it is time for us to embrace writing as a collaborative enabler, rather than a research burden.
All too often, we academics write in a strange argot of disciplinary esoterica that can obscure the very ideas we seek to communicate. If you have ever encountered an article like the following, you know what I mean.
"Spatiotemporal domicile proximity to retroverting domestic ruminants," I. B. Smart, I. A. Postdoc & O. Authors, International Journal of Bovine Mobility, Vol. 123, No. 11, pp. 2143-2147, 2013
However linguistically facile and intellectually adept, the authors and putative ruminant experts failed to say what they really meant ("wait for the cows to come home") and why that might matter.
In a similar spirit, the late Richard Hamming once famously noted, "The purpose of computing is insight, not numbers." The academic publishing cognate is best summarized as, "The purpose of writing is communication, not obscuration." There is also an important corollary, "Write to communicate, not to impress or intimidate." Yes, subtlety and nuance are important, but they are mere handmaidens to clarity and lucidity.
Even when we avoid these linguistic traps, another, equally deadly one waits to ensnare – turgid and passive prose that invites only slumber. As anyone knows who has either served as a journal editor or reviewed a seemingly endless stack of conference paper submissions, passive, wordy and meandering prose makes identifying the key ideas and assessing their importance even more difficult.
Technical papers are not page turning spy novels, nor should they be, but they can still be interesting, clear and engaging as they convey the essential facts. As a writer, one's job is to make the reading easy; you want your papers to be read and appreciated.
The Message is the Message
It is always dangerous to write an essay about writing, lest one be lampooned for the very deficiencies one seeks to highlight. Such is life. My goal is to focus attention on an important issue.
While continuing to pursue core research in our own discipline of computing, I believe we must also communicate effectively with our peers in the arts and humanities, science and engineering, medicine and public policy. We cannot all be polymaths, but as writers, we can do more to lower the disciplinary drawbridges and invite readers into our intellectual castles.
N.B.: An abbreviated version of this perspective is scheduled to appear in the Iowa City Press-Citizen. On February 15, 2013, I will be participating in a televised and webcast discussion of personalized medicine as part of the University of Iowa'sWorldCanvass series.
DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid) – it is literally the stuff of life. Three billion instances of four nucleotides (abbreviated GATC) (in the haploid genome) define our humanity, and slight variations across those three billion instances are responsible for all our differences, including our susceptibility and predisposition to diseases. Thus, understanding how DNA regulates biological processes is key to the mechanics of life and to treating disease at its most fundamental levels.
In 2003, after multiple years of painstaking work, two groups, one public and one private, each succeeded in sequencing the DNA of one individual – a human genome – at a cost of roughly three billion dollars. This technological tour de force required collaborations among research laboratories across the country, vast arrays of robotic machines to identify DNA snippets and massive amounts of computing power to assemble the snippets into a complete genome sequence via a technique known as shotgun sequencing.
In the intervening ten years, the cost to sequence a genome has dropped below ten thousand dollars. In other words, for the price of a minivan, you could have your family's DNA sequenced today. More importantly, technological advances will soon push that price below $1000, with $100 sequencing soon to follow. Very soon, having your DNA sequenced is likely to cost less than what most of us spend on gas for our cars each month.
In many ways, the dramatic reductions in DNA sequencing cost are due to advances in some of the same technologies that have given us powerful, yet inexpensive mobile telephones and other electronic devices. Automated DNA sequencers rely on robotics for sample management, advanced computing for coordination and data management, and miniaturization and nanotechnology for biological process and sample analysis.
Beyond the potential for scientific insight, these dramatic declines in DNA sequence costs have been in part due to perceived business and healthcare opportunities. Many companies, including ones created by faculty and students at the University of , see personalized medicine as a new frontier, much in the way that advanced imaging – x-ray computerized tomography (CT), positron emission tomography (PET) and magnetic resonance imaging (MRI) – transformed assessment and diagnosis in the 1970s and 1980s. To spur research and innovation, the X Prize Foundation has offered 10 million dollars to the first group to sequence 100 human genomes highly accurately at a cost of $1,000 or less.
Toward Personalized Medicine
What are the implications of inexpensive DNA sequencing for each of us? We can read the letters in each of our personal books of life. However, we do not yet understand fully how those letters collectively define the operating manual for our cells and our bodies, but biomedical research is bringing us closer to commonplace medical treatments.
Today, if you visit your primary care physician, he or she compares your current health to that of a typical human of your age and gender. Therein is the problem. There is no mass production of typical humans; each of us is custom made and slightly different, unique among the roughly seven billion people on this planet. We celebrate those differences, for they define our humanity. In that sense, every child's mother is right when she calls her child special and precious, for we are, in so many wondrous ways.
Biologically, DNA variations and the genes expressed lead to our differing appearance, behavior, physiology and metabolic processes. When combined with our varied lifestyles, environments, exercise patterns and food preferences, it is no surprise that we have different physical reactions to the same drugs and medical treatments. None of us is typical, yet today's medicine treats us as if we are.
When you visit your physician in a few years, to what might he or she compare your current health? Ideally, it would be you at your very best, perhaps at age 25 when you were in peak physical and mental condition, at your optimum weight, and living a healthy lifestyle. More to the point, your physician would then tailor your treatment based on a deep understanding of your unique genetic characteristics, your current condition, physical environment, and your body's particular reactions to those treatments. This is the promise of personalized medicine – earlier and more effective treatment tailored specifically for you.
Our DNA is the personal operating manual that directs our cells and physiology. Understanding that is essential to personalized medicine, but it is not enough. We also need inexpensive and routine diagnostics that can compare the "current you" and the "healthiest possible you" to determine what is wrong.
All of this is analogous to how we now diagnose automobile problems. In addition to inspecting the vehicle, all mechanics read the data captured by the vehicle's onboard monitoring electronics. That data include the vehicle's history of operation and all deviations from the factory-defined standard. While you drive, the vehicle continually monitors itself, raising alarms if there are problems.
Just as the best car repair is the one you never need, the best health care is treatment you never need because you are well. The next best case is early intervention that alerts you and your caregivers before serious issues develop. Late intervention when you are very sick is both damaging to you and expensive for all of us.
As with DNA sequencing, new technologies are bringing the medical diagnostics version of personal monitoring ever closer, allowing each of us to track our physiology and lifestyle. There are already smartphone apps that can measure heart rate and lung function, wearable devices that monitor exercise and sleep functions, and wireless meters for glucose monitoring. Some individuals in the quantified self community are now measuring their bodies in ways that were heretofore only possible in a research environment. Via microfluidics, nanotechnology, robotics, advanced computing and other technologies, the Star Trektricorder is on the horizon.
Societal Implications
Like all new technologies, genetic medicine brings a new set of societal questions. If DNA sequencing uncovers an untreatable genetic defect, do you want to know? It is not a hypothetical question; we are already facing this ethical dilemma for selected diseases. Because you are genetically similar to your siblings, what are the implications for them if you fit a particular disease profile? What is the appropriate ethical and economic balance between personalized health care treatment and cost, particularly if you choose a lifestyle that worsens your health, given a genetic predisposition to a disease? How do we protect individual privacy in a world of "big data" and inexpensive health monitoring devices?
As a comprehensive research university that combines the sciences, engineering and medicine with the liberal arts and humanities, the University of Iowa (UI) brings insights and expertise to all aspects of genetics-based personalized medicine. The UI is a major participant in scientific and biomedical research, as well as the transfer of research ideas into practice via new companies created by its faculty, research staff and students. It is also engaged actively in helping shape the ethical, social, legal and economic frameworks that will govern this transformation.
This exciting new world of personalized medicine is ripe with the promise of improved health for our citizens, by helping our children remain healthy, by allowing our seniors to live independently for longer periods, and by ensuring our citizens in rural areas can monitor their health in detail.
I believe the future is bright. Via personalized medicine, we can improve the quality of life and reduce health care costs for everyone, while respecting and protecting our individuality.
Remember, we are all special. Our DNA tells us so.
After the United States Congress Joint Select Committee on Deficit Reduction, otherwise known as the Supercommittee, failed to create an acceptable bipartisan proposal for addressing the U.S. Federal budget deficit, both parties decided to defer further discussions until after the November 2012 elections. As the January 2013 deadline for automatic, across the board cuts is now drawing ever nearer, the discussions have begun again, albeit with accusations and finger pointing on both sides of the political aisle.
Research Interests
Amidst this backdrop, all of us in the research community have been sounding the alarm regarding the consequences of the research cuts that sequestration would necessitate. There is no doubt that substantial cuts to basic research would adversely affect the long-term future of U.S. innovation and global competitiveness, upset already strained university budgets, damage current research projects in a wide range of disciplines, and disrupt the lives of thousands of faculty, post-doctoral associates and students.
That said, is important to acknowledge that we in research are a special interest group, though one whose interests are vital to the future. I realize that some would take umbrage at my description of research as a special interest group, but in the political lexicon, we are, just as are health care and environmental protection. Unless one accepts the realpolitikof budget exigencies and the conflicting goals and objectives of large, disparate multiparty negotiations, the research community will neither be effective in making the case nor realistic in managing the process and likely outcomes.
One cannot simply cry, "This is good, or this is bad," one must make cogent arguments about why certain choices yield differential benefits to the budget negotiators' positions and policies and why those choices are better than other ones. (See Being Bilingual: Speaking Technology and Policy.) Remember, there are far more good ideas than there are resources, and this is equally true in government and science.
Creating Opportunity
Despite the political polarization in Washington, I still believe a budget compromise will emerge. It will not be perfect – such is the very nature of compromise, but I suspect it will include some acceptable combination of revenue increases and budget reductions. Despite its politicization, there is still broad recognition of the importance of basic research; I believe it will fare relatively well when the Sturm und Drang are done.
However, with research proposal success rates plummeting and Hobbesian choices between research infrastructure and investigator support now necessary, we face major challenges. In the apocryphal phrasing of Ernst Rutherford, "We have no money. We must think."
Thinking will undoubtedly mean questioning some perceived verities and deeply held beliefs. NIH R01 awards will no longer be de facto expectations for promotion and tenure. Research infrastructure sharing across institutions may well become the norm, and not just for large-scale instrumentation. Cross-disciplinary tradeoffs about relative investment will become even more pressing. Industry-academic partnerships will rise in importance, as we develop more effective and mutually beneficial industrial collaboration frameworks. However, these industry partnerships will not a surrogate for federal funding of basic research.
Whatever the outcomes, by revisiting some of our assumptions, we can create more free energy in the research system and dedicate precious resources to new and emerging opportunities. I am confident that many of these new opportunities lie at our disciplinary interstices, and hybridization and cross-fertilization can yield new insights and outcomes. More broadly, the coupling of the arts and humanities with public policy, science and engineering, and biomedicine can be transformative. This is consilience in its highest form. However, we must think.
Take heart and keep the faith. The future can be and will be bright – if we make it so.
I speak to groups large and small on an almost weekly basis. Some of these are technical presentations; others address global policy issues; and still others are public events for a popular audience. If you were to see me speak on related topics in semi-contiguous weeks, you might assume that the presentations never change. It is true that I have a series of standard "stump speeches," but I also add new content to each of these, allowing them to evolve as I develop new ideas and understand what topics resonate with the audience.
For popular audiences, I occasionally open by jokingly opining that some members of the audience, for reasons both baffling and befuddling, may find my erudite and insightful presentation, though delivered with elegance, verve and panache, rather turgid and opaque. In that rare and extraordinary event, I humbly offer an alternate question for them to ponder while the dismal proceedings that are my prepared remarks meander interminably toward their much-anticipated conclusion.
That self-deprecating opening usually makes people smile, albeit weakly. What follows, though, is a very simple, though serious question. I simply ask, "What probability of successful return would you accept to be the first human to set foot on Mars?"
Walking on Mars
Superficially, this is the quintessential geek question, conjuring images of mighty rockets like the old Saturn V, complex orbital dynamics, spacesuits and EVAs, and ultimately, the an adventure on the red planet itself. On reflection, though, the question is more subtle, morphing into something deeper that makes the audience think carefully about themselves and the nature of the human condition.
Let us begin with the geek part, probability and statistics. There are many possible answers to the question, only one of which is categorically wrong. Anyone who says, "Why probability one, of course!" has failed to consider that nothing in life – other than death – is certain. Notwithstanding the popular claim, even taxes can be changed. One need only recall the old astronaut joke about sitting atop millions of pounds of fuel and thousands of parts, all produced by the lowest bidder. Hence, unless one's answer is, "I have no interest in going," any answer involves accepting some degree of risk.
The technically inclined among the audience inevitably then begin considering possible failure modes and probabilities, including mechanical, electronic, biological, chemical, environmental and social ones. In the mind's eye, one sees rockets exploding on the launch pad, solar storms creating lethal radiation during the long flight, failed entry in the thin Martian atmosphere, and a host of other deadly scenarios. The process reminds us that everything is fraught with some risk, and that we habitually and instinctively calculate risk-reward ratios every day. It is only the extraordinary risks that we consciously contemplate, and even then only rarely.
Risk and Remembrance
The question also illuminates two other salient issues. The first is one's personal risk-reward ratio. For a very few, perhaps the most reckless and thrill seeking among us, probability zero is an acceptable answer. For others, the adventuresome and the explorers, those with the putative "right stuff," almost any carefully quantified, non-zero probability is acceptable, for it offers the hope, even if improbable, of safe return. Many opt for an answer where the prospects of success exceed those for failure, for they value their lives.
The second aspect cuts to the centrality of our humanity, our insatiable curiosity and our hope to be remembered for having done something new, for having made a difference. To set foot Mars offers a chance to answer some deeply intriguing and vexing scientific questions about planetary formation and history and about the possibility of life on Mars, past or present. To be the first offers something else, the opportunity to be remembered, at least in the brief span of recorded human history, for having done something extraordinary.
What Is Your Answer?
It is an interesting and thought provoking question. It is a presentation unto itself. What probability of successful return would you accept?
As for me, as John Glenn once said, if there were a bird on the pad and they offered me a ride, I would be on it. I would have calculated the risks with the engineers, worked with the scientists and made an informed choice. Beyond that, the science, the technology, the curiosity, the opportunity – I feel their call.
The end of year holidays are a time filled with travel, food and family. Like many of you, I spent time with family and friends, socializing, discussing life events and sharing stories. Among the most memorable of those experiences was the time spent with my nieces' children, all of whom are between the ages of one and four. Because I do not spend much time with small children these days, I was able to observe them and their behavior from a fresh perspective.
Yes, there was the frenetic pace and seemingly boundless energy of the young, followed immediately by exhaustion and serene sleep. There was also the complex and sometimes daunting logistics of feeding, travel and entertainment that all parents manage daily. Neither of those, though, was what I found most fascinating. Rather, it was the wide-eyed wonder with which the young greet new things.
A one-year old fascinated by musical tones, a two-year old enthralled by the tensile strength of a spring, or a four-year old pondering the statics and dynamics of a pile of blocks, these are the wonders of science experienced firsthand.
In turn, this caused me to reflect on the nature of science, technology, engineering and math (STEM) education and the nature of scientific and engineering research. After all, the fundamental and unbridled curiosity of a child is the birthmother of all of science and engineering.
Science Education
I am no expert in educational pedagogy, far from it. Nevertheless, after spending over forty years in schools, colleges and universities, one does learn a few things. At the very least, I once carried the title of professor and was granted license to claim to know.
In reality, science and engineering, and even abstract mathematics, are about experiential learning – one gains insights and appreciation by doing rather than merely observing. It is why we conduct experiments to test hypotheses, build computational models to bring our theories to life, and build new devices that embody engineering knowledge. We want to see and experience, demonstrate and validate.
Yet so much of our K-12 science education remains driven by a dry recitation of facts that expunges all the experiential joy of science, leaving only dried husk of knowledge. Too frequently, we insist on conformity, when the practice of science and engineering has always been critically dependent on the iconoclasts who question the current orthodoxy. Indeed, that questioning is at the very foundation of the social and technical process we call science. I believe we must nurture that curiosity throughout the educational system, letting students see how they can ask and answer questions that make a difference in our world.
The questions are simple yet profound, and the shift from a child's question to our deepest unsolved queries is so very small. Mommy, why is the sky blue? (Answer: Raleigh scattering, though simple, not easily explained to a child.) How does a flower grow? What is gravity and why is there mass? (Answer: These are some of the deepest questions at the frontier of science.)
Discovery's Passion
All too often, the process, politics and bureaucracy of science and engineering consume us. Whether writing the research proposals and the inevitable progress reports, crafting the papers under deadlines, or traveling to conferences and symposia, our time and energy can be frittered away. All these are necessary, but they are not sufficient. In truth, they are the detritus of innovation and discovery, the artifacts of our modern scientific enterprise.
Periodically, it is worth taking a step back, pausing for a moment to remember why each of us became scientists. It was not the research grant (necessary though it is), nor was it the publication (essential to disseminating a discovery). It was the curiosity, the passion, the amazement and the wonder. Those things make it the love and the labor of a lifetime.
The next time you see a small child, staring in wide eyed, open mouthed wonder at some action or object, remember and savor the experience. It is why you are a scientist or an engineer, asking questions and staring in amazement at the answers the experiments reveal, still a child at heart.
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