An elephant may be hundreds of times larger than a cat, but when it comes to pooping, it doesn’t take the elephant hundreds of times longer to heed nature’s call. In fact, both animals will probably get the job done in less than 30 seconds, a new study finds.
Humans would probably fit in that time frame too, says Patricia Yang, a mechanical engineering graduate student at the Georgia Institute of Technology in Atlanta. That’s because elephants, cats and people all excrete cylindrical poop. The size of all those animals varies, but so does the thickness of the mucus lining in each animal’s large intestine, so no matter the mammal, everything takes about the same time — an average of 12 seconds — to come out, Yang and her colleagues conclude April 25 in Soft Matter.
But the average poop time is not the real takeaway here (though it will make a fabulous answer to a question on Jeopardy one day). Previous studies on defecation have largely come from the world of medical research. “We roughly know how it happened, but not the physics of it,” says Yang.
Looking more closely at those physical properties could prove useful in a number of ways. For example, rats are often good models for humans in disease research, but they aren’t when it comes to pooping because rats are pellet poopers. (They’re not good models for human urination, either, because their pee comes out differently than ours, in high-speed droplets instead of a stream.)
Also, since the thickness of the mucus lining is dependent on animal size, it would be better to find a more human-sized stand-in. Such work could help researchers find new treatments for constipation and diarrhea, in which the mucus lining plays a key role, the researchers note.
Animal defecation may seem like an odd topic for a mechanical engineer to take on, but Yang notes that the principles of fluid dynamics apply inside the body and out. Her previous research includes a study on animal urination, finding that, as with pooping, the time it takes for mammals to pee also falls within a small window. (The research won her group an Ig Nobel Prize in 2015.)
And while many would find this kind of research disgusting, Yang does not. “Working with poop is not that bad, to be honest,” she says. “It’s not that smelly.” Plus, she gets to go to the zoo and aquarium for her research rather than be stuck in the lab. But the research does involve a lot of poop — and watching it fall. For the study, the researchers timed the how long it took for animals to defecate and calculated the velocity of the feces of 11 species. They filmed dogs at a park and elephants, giant pandas and warthogs at Zoo Atlanta. They also dug up 19 YouTube videos of mammals defecating. Surprisingly, there are a lot of those videos available, though not many were actually good for the research. “We wanted a complete event, from beginning to end,” Yang notes. Apparently not everyone interested in pooping animals bothers to capture a feces’ full fall.
The researchers also examined feces from dozens of mammal species. (They fall into two classes: Carnivores defecate “sinkers,” since their feces are full of heavy indigestible ingredients like fur and bones. Herbivores defecate less-dense “floaters.”) And they considered the thickness and viscosity of the mucus that lines mammals’ intestines and helps everything move along as well the rectal pressure that pushes the material. All this information went into a mathematical model of mammal defecation — which revealed the importance of the mucus lining.
Yang isn’t done with this line of research. The model she and her colleagues created applies only to mammals that poop like we do. There’s still the pellet poopers, like rats and rabbits, and wombats, whose feces look like rounded cubes. “I would like to complete the whole set,” she says. And, “if you’ve got a good team, it’s fun.”
A question flamingo researchers get asked all the time — why the birds stand on one leg — may need rethinking. The bigger puzzle may be why flamingos bother standing on two.
Balance aids built into the birds’ basic anatomy allow for a one-legged stance that demands little muscular effort, tests find. This stance is so exquisitely stable that a bird sways less to keep itself upright when it appears to be dozing than when it’s alert with eyes open, two Atlanta neuromechanists report May 24 in Biology Letters. “Most of us aren’t aware that we’re moving around all the time,” says Lena Ting of Emory University, who measures what’s called postural sway in standing people as well as in animals. Just keeping the human body vertical demands constant sensing and muscular correction for wavering. Even standing robots “are expending quite a bit of energy,” she says. That could have been the case for flamingos, she points out, since effort isn’t always visible. Ting and Young-Hui Chang of the Georgia Institute of Technology tested balance in fluffy young Chilean flamingos coaxed onto a platform attached to an instrument that measures how much they sway. Keepers at Zoo Atlanta hand-rearing the test subjects let researchers visit after feeding time in hopes of catching youngsters inclined toward a nap — on one leg on a machine. “Patience,” Ting says, was the key to any success in this experiment.
As a flamingo standing on one foot shifted to preen a feather or joust with a neighbor, the instrument tracked wobbles in the foot’s center of pressure, the spot where the bird’s weight focused. When a bird tucked its head onto its pillowy back and shut its eyes, the center of pressure made smaller adjustments (within a radius of 3.2 millimeters on average, compared with 5.1 millimeters when active). Museum bones revealed features of the skeleton that might enhance stability, but bones alone didn’t tell the researchers enough. Deceased Caribbean flamingos a zoo donated to science gave a better view. “The ‘ah-ha!’ moment was when I said, ‘Wait, let’s look at it in a vertical position,’” Ting remembers. All of a sudden, the bird specimen settled naturally into one-legged lollipop alignment.
In flamingo anatomy, the hip and the knee lie well up inside the body. What bends in the middle of the long flamingo leg is not a knee but an ankle (which explains why to human eyes a walking flamingo’s leg joint bends the wrong way). The bones themselves don’t seem to have a strict on-off locking mechanism, though Ting has observed bony crests, double sockets and other features that could facilitate stable standing.
The bird’s distribution of weight, however, looked important for one-footed balance. The flamingo’s center of gravity was close to the inner knee where bones started to form the long column to the ground, giving the precarious-looking position remarkable stability. The specimen’s body wasn’t as stable on two legs, the researchers found. Reinhold Necker of Ruhr University in Bochum, Germany, is cautious about calling one-legged stances an energy saver. “The authors do not consider the retracted leg,” says Necker, who has studied flamingos. Keeping that leg retracted could take some energy, even if easy balancing saves some, he proposes.
The new study takes an important step toward understanding how flamingos stand on one leg, but doesn’t explain why, comments Matthew Anderson, a comparative psychologist at St. Joseph’s University in Philadelphia. He’s found that more flamingos rest one-legged when temperatures drop, so he proposes that keeping warm might have something to do with it. The persistent flamingo question still stands.
Astronomers want you in on the search for the solar system’s ninth planet.
In the online citizen science project Backyard Worlds: Planet 9, space lovers can flip through space images and search for this potential planet as well as other far-off worlds awaiting discovery.
The images, taken by NASA’s Wide-field Infrared Survey Explorer satellite, offer a peek at a vast region of uncharted territory at the far fringes of the solar system and beyond. One area of interest is a ring of icy rocks past Neptune, known as the Kuiper belt. Possible alignments among the orbits of six objects out there hint that a ninth planet exerting its gravitational influence lurks in the darkness (SN: 7/23/16, p. 9). The WISE satellite may have imaged this distant world, and astronomers just haven’t identified it yet. Dwarf planets, free-floating worlds with no solar system to call home (SN: 4/4/15, p. 22) and failed stars may also be hidden in the images. The WISE satellite has snapped the entire sky several times, resulting in millions of images. With so many snapshots to sift through, researchers need extra eyes. At the Backyard Worlds website, success in spotting a new world requires sharp sight. You have to stare at what seems like thousands of fuzzy dots in a series of four false-color infrared images taken months to years apart and identify faint blobs that appear to move. Spot that movement and you may have found a new world.
But you can’t let blurry spots or objects moving in only a couple of the frames fool you: Image artifacts can look like convincing space objects. True detections come from slight shifts in the positions of red or whitish-blue dots. With so many dots to track, it’s best to break up an image into sections and then click through the four images section by section. This process can take hours. But think of the payoff — discovering a distant world no one has observed before.
Once you’ve marked any potential object of interest, the project’s astronomers take over. Jackie Faherty of the American Museum of Natural History in New York City and colleagues cross-reference the object’s coordinates with databases of celestial worlds. If the object does, in fact, appear to be a newbie, the team requests time on other telescopes to do follow-up. Those studies can reveal whether the object is a failed star or a planet.
So far, tens of thousands of citizen scientists have scoured images at Backyard Worlds. The team has identified five possible failed stars and had its first paper accepted for publication.
But there’s still much more to explore: The elusive Planet Nine might still be out there, disguised as a flash of dots.
Water swirling down a drain has exposed an elusive phenomenon long believed to appear in black holes.
Light waves scattering off a rotating black hole can bounce off with more energy than they came in with, by sapping some of the black hole’s rotational energy. But the effect, predicted in 1971 and known as rotational superradiance, is so weak that it would be extremely difficult to observe in a real black hole. So scientists had never seen rotational superradiance in action. Now, physicists report June 12 in Nature Physics that they’ve glimpsed the effect for the first time, in a black hole doppelgänger made with a vortex of water, similar to water swirling down a bathtub drain. “If you take a tennis ball and you throw it against a wall, you don’t expect it to come back with more energy,” says Silke Weinfurtner of the University of Nottingham in England, who led the study. “But when you throw something at a black hole, if it’s a rotating black hole, you can actually gain energy.”
To demonstrate the effect, the scientists created a swirl of water. “The fluid has to drain in a way that looks like a black hole,” says physicist Antonin Coutant, also at Nottingham. Surface ripples reach a point of no return where they are sucked into the vortex. That’s analogous to a black hole’s event horizon, the boundary from which no light can escape. Weinfurtner, Coutant and colleagues report that water waves scattering off the vortex got a superradiant boost: They were amplified by up to 14 percent on average, depending on the frequency and direction of the waves.
For obvious reasons, researchers can’t study a real black hole in a laboratory. If they could, “we’d all be in trouble,” says physicist Sam Dolan of the University of Sheffield in England, who was not involved with the study. A water vortex is the next best thing. The result, Dolan says, “gives us more confidence that our theories about black holes are correct.”
Although rotational superradiance is a weak effect in black holes, there may be opportunities to observe it, says physicist Vítor Cardoso of Instituto Superior Técnico in Lisbon, Portugal. Superradiance affects gravitational waves as well as light waves. Ripples in spacetime stirred up by merging black holes (SN Online: 6/1/17) should be slightly amplified if those black holes are spinning. That amplification could be observed by future ultrasensitive gravitational wave detectors.
Hunter-gatherers who built and worshiped at one of the oldest known ritual centers in the world carved up human skulls in a style all their own.
At Turkey’s Göbekli Tepe site — where human activity dates to between around 11,600 and 10,000 years ago — people cut deep grooves in three human skulls and drilled a hole in at least one of them, say archaeologist Julia Gresky of the German Archaeological Institute in Berlin and colleagues. Ancient hunter-gatherers there practiced a previously unknown version of a “skull cult,” in which human skulls were ritually modified after death and then deposited together, Gresky’s team reports online June 28 in Science Advances.
Collections of human skulls modified in other ways have been found at several sites from around the same time. For instance, deliberately broken faces on skulls were unearthed at a Syrian settlement and may represent a form of punishment after death.
Seven excavated skull fragments enabled Gresky’s group to reconstruct the Göbekli Tepe skulls. These skulls of the recently deceased were carved for use in ceremonies to worship them as ancestors, the researchers propose. It’s also possible that the skull incisions marked deceased individuals who had been especially revered or reviled while alive.
A cord inserted through the hole drilled in one skull may have suspended that skull for display. Grooves probably ran from front to back on the skulls and possibly stabilized cords that held decorations of some kind.
Microscopic study of skull pieces from Göbekli Tepe indicates that grooves were cut with stone tools. A lack of healed bone on the edges of incisions suggests skull carving occurred shortly after death.
In July of 1972, NASA launched the first Landsat satellite into orbit around Earth. Since then, the spacecraft and its successors have transformed our understanding of Antarctica (and the rest of the planet, too). In the first year following the launch, Landsat’s images of the faraway continent showed “uncharted mountain ranges, vast ice movements and errors in maps as little as two years old,” according to an article published in Science News. William MacDonald of the U.S. Geological Survey, who had spent eight years mapping a part of West Antarctica, was “shocked” to learn of previously unknown peaks just 100 miles from McMurdo Station.
Landsat’s images weren’t the first overhead shots of Antarctica, but to this day the program provides researchers a reliable and repeating view of hard-to-reach corners of the planet. It was Landsat images that in November of 2014 first alerted scientists to a growing crack in the Larsen C ice shelf that, after lengthening by about 20 kilometers in less than nine months, threatened to break off a Delaware-sized chunk of the shelf. With thermal imagery from Landsat 8 along with data from the European Space Agency’s Sentinel-1 satellites, scientists sitting half a world away tracked the Larsen C crack to its final break, as described by Ashley Yeager. While satellites are scientists’ eyes in the skies, seismic sensors serve as ears to the ground. Alexandra Witze describes the work of scientists who are using seismic sensors to monitor nuclear weapons activity in a part of the planet where access to information is limited: North Korea. Five nuclear weapons tests have been confirmed in the country since 2006, all at an underground test site in Mount Mantap. By tracking seismic waves produced by such explosions, and comparing these rumbles with each other and with those produced by natural earthquakes and in experimental tests, researchers around the world gain valuable clues to where the hidden explosions are happening and, importantly, how powerful they are. A North Korea weapons test last year was detected as far away as Bolivia.
The art of eavesdropping certainly has its rewards. There are plenty more examples. Rachel Ehrenberg writes about how snooping scientists might listen in on kelp to predict ecosystem health. And Emily Conover reports on a newly discovered, relatively itty-bitty star some 600 light-years away. Astronomers spied on the star by watching it pass in front of a larger star, dimming the larger star’s light.
Sometimes astronomers get lucky and distant phenomena are much more straightforward to study. That will be the case later this month when a total solar eclipse passes across North America from Oregon to South Carolina. People will be monitoring the August 21 eclipse in all sorts of ways, including via a livestream from balloons at the edge of the atmosphere, as Lisa Grossman describes in “Watch the moon’s shadow race across the Earth from balloons.” Grossman will be reporting on the eclipse on the ground with scientists in Wyoming. You’ll find her stories — along with many others about the ways scientists watch, listen and learn — at www.lssfzb.com
For some poison dart frogs, gaining resistance to one of their own toxins came with a price.
The genetic change that gives one group of frogs immunity to a particularly lethal toxin also disrupts a key chemical messenger in the brain. But the frogs have managed to sidestep the potentially damaging side effect through other genetic tweaks, researchers report in the Sept. 22 Science.
While other studies have identified genetic changes that give frogs resistance to particular toxins, this study “lets you look under the hood” to see the full effects of those changes and how the frogs are compensating, says Butch Brodie, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville who wasn’t involved in the research. Many poison dart frogs carry cocktails of toxic alkaloid molecules in their skin as a defense against predators (SN Online: 3/24/14). These toxins, picked up through the frogs’ diets, vary by species. Here, researchers studied frogs that carry epibatidine, a substance so poisonous that just a few millionths of a gram can kill a mouse.
Previous studies have shown that poisonous frogs have become resistant to the toxins the amphibians carry by messing with the proteins that these toxins bind to in the body. Switching out certain protein building blocks, or amino acids, changes the shape of the protein, which can prevent toxins from latching on. But making that change could have unintended side effects, too, says study coauthor Rebecca Tarvin, an evolutionary biologist at the University of Texas at Austin.
For example, the toxin epibatidine binds to proteins that are usually targeted by acetylcholine, a chemical messenger that’s necessary for normal brain function. So Tarvin and her colleagues looked at how this acetylcholine receptor protein differed between poison frog species that are resistant to epibatidine and some of their close relatives that aren’t. Identifying differences between the frogs in the receptor protein’s amino acids allowed researchers to systematically test the effects of each change. To do so, the scientists put the genetic instructions for the same protein in humans, who aren’t resistant to epibatidine, into frog eggs. The researchers then replaced select amino acids in the human code with different poison frog substitutions to find an amino acid “switch” that would make the resulting receptor protein resistant to epibatidine.
But epibatidine resistance wasn’t a straightforward deal, it turned out. “We noticed that replacing one of those amino acids in the human [protein] made it resistant to epibatidine, but also affected its interaction with acetylcholine,” says study coauthor Cecilia Borghese, a neuropharmacologist also at the University of Texas at Austin. “Both are binding in the exact same region of the protein. It’s a very delicate situation.” That is, the amino acid change that made the receptor protein resistant to epibatidine also made it harder for acetylcholine to attach, potentially impeding the chemical messenger’s ability to do its job.
But the frogs themselves don’t seem impaired. That’s because other amino acid replacements elsewhere in the receptor protein appear to have compensated, Borghese and Tarvin found, creating a protein that won’t let the toxin latch on, but that still responds normally to acetylcholine.
The resistance-giving amino acid change appears to have evolved three separate times in poison frogs, Tarvin says. Three different lineages of the frogs have resistance to the poison, and all of them got that immunity by flipping the same switch. But the amino acid changes that bring back a normal acetylcholine response aren’t the same across those three groups.
“It’s a cool convergence that these other switches weren’t identical, but they all seem to recover that function,” Brodie says.
Six years after the Fukushima nuclear reactor disaster in Japan, radioactive material is leaching into the Pacific Ocean from an unexpected place. Some of the highest levels of radioactive cesium-137, a major by-product of nuclear power generation, are now found in the somewhat salty groundwater beneath sand beaches tens of kilometers away, a new study shows.
Scientists tested for radioactivity at eight different beaches within 100 kilometers of the plant, which experienced three reactor meltdowns when an earthquake and tsunami on March 11, 2011, knocked out its power. Oceans, rivers and fresh groundwater sources are typically monitored for radioactivity following a nuclear accident, but several years following the disaster, those weren’t the most contaminated water sources. Instead, brackish groundwater underneath the beaches has accumulated the second highest levels of the radioactive element (surpassed only by the groundwater directly beneath the reactor), researchers report October 2 in the Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences.
In the wake of the 2011 accident, seawater tainted with high levels of cesium-137 probably traveled along the coast and lapped against these beaches, proposes study coauthor Virginie Sanial, who did the work while at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in Massachusetts. Some cesium stuck to the sand and, over time, percolated down to the brackish groundwater beneath. Now, the radioactive material is steadily making its way back into the ocean. The groundwater is releasing the cesium into the coastal ocean at a rate that’s on par with the leakage of cesium into the ocean from the reactor site itself, Sanial’s team estimates.
Since this water isn’t a source of drinking water and is underground, the contamination isn’t an immediate public health threat, says Sanial, now a geochemist at the University of Southern Mississippi in Hattiesburg. But with about half of the world’s nuclear power plants located on coastlines, such areas are potentially important contamination reservoirs and release sites to monitor after future accidents.
Two days before plunging into Saturn, the Cassini spacecraft took one last look around the planet it had orbited for more than 13 years.
The view of Saturn above, released November 21, is actually made from 42 images that have been stitched together. Six moons — Enceladus, Epimetheus, Janus, Mimas, Pandora and Prometheus — are faintly visible as dots surrounding the gas giant (see the annotated image below). Cassini was about 1.1 million kilometers away from Saturn when it took the images on September 13. The whole observation took a little over two hours.
On September 11, Cassini set itself on a collision course with Saturn, and on September 15, the probe ended its mission by burning up in Saturn’s atmosphere, taking data all the way down.
Wikipedia: The settler of dinnertime disputes and the savior of those who cheat on trivia night. Quick, what country has the Nile’s headwaters? What year did Gershwin write “Rhapsody in Blue”? Wikipedia has the answer to all your burning trivia questions — including ones about science.
With hundreds of thousands of scientific entries, Wikipedia offers a quick reference for the molecular formula of Zoloft, who the inventor of the 3-D printer is and the fact that the theory of plate tectonics is only about 100 years old. The website is a gold mine for science fans, science bloggers and scientists alike. But even though scientists use Wikipedia, they don’t tend to admit it. The site rarely ends up in a paper’s citations as the source of, say, the history of the gut-brain axis or the chemical formula for polyvinyl chloride. But scientists are browsing Wikipedia just like everyone else. A recent analysis found that Wikipedia stays up-to-date on the latest research — and vocabulary from those Wikipedia articles finds its way into scientific papers. The results don’t just reveal the Wiki-habits of the ivory tower. They also show that the free, widely available information source is playing a role in research progress, especially in poorer countries.
Teachers in middle school, high school and college drill it in to their students: Wikipedia is not a citable source. Anyone can edit Wikipedia, and articles can change from day to day — sometimes by as little as a comma, other times being completely rewritten overnight. “[Wikipedia] has a reputation for being untrustworthy,” says Thomas Shafee, a biochemist at La Trobe University in Melbourne, Australia.
But those same teachers — even the college professors — who warn students away from Wikipedia are using the site themselves. “Academics use Wikipedia all the time because we’re human. It’s something everyone is doing,” says Doug Hanley, a macroeconomist at the University of Pittsburgh.
And the site’s unreliable reputation may be unwarranted. Wikipedia is not any less consistent than Encyclopedia Britannica, a 2005 Nature study showed (a conclusion that the encyclopedia itself vehemently objected to). Citing it as a source, however, is still a bridge too far. “It’s not respected like academic resources,” Shafee notes. Academic science may not respect Wikipedia, but Wikipedia certainly loves science. Of the roughly 5.5 million articles, half a million to a million of them touch on scientific topics. And constant additions from hundreds of thousands of editors mean that entries can be very up to date on the latest scientific literature.
How recently published findings affect Wikipedia is easy to track. They’re cited on Wikipedia, after all. But does the relationship go the other way? Do scientific posts on Wikipedia worm their way into the academic literature, even though they are never cited? Hanley and his colleague Neil Thompson, an innovation scholar at MIT, decided to approach the question on two fronts.
First, they determined the 1.1 million most common scientific words in published articles from the scientific publishing giant Elsevier. Then, Hanley and Thompson examined how often those same words were added to or deleted from Wikipedia over time, and cited in the research literature. The researchers focused on two fields, chemistry and econometrics — a new area that develops statistical tests for economics.
There was a clear connection between the language in scientific papers and the language on Wikipedia. “Some new topic comes up and it gets exciting, it will generate a new Wikipedia page,” Thompson notes. The language on that new page was then connected to later scientific work. After a new entry was published, Hanley and Thompson showed, later scientific papers contained more language similar to the Wikipedia article than to papers in the field published before the new Wikipedia entry. There was a definite association between the language in the Wikipedia article and future scientific papers.
But was Wikipedia itself the source of that language? This part of the study can’t answer that. It only observes words increasing together in two different spaces. It can’t prove that scientists were reading Wikipedia and using it in their work.
So the researchers created new Wikipedia articles from scratch to find out if the language in them affected the scientific literature in return. Hanley and Thompson had graduate students in chemistry and in econometrics write up new Wikipedia articles on topics that weren’t yet on the site. The students wrote 43 chemistry articles and 45 econometrics articles. Then, half of the articles in each set got published to Wikipedia in January 2015, and the other half were held back as controls. The researchers gave the articles three months to percolate through the internet. Then they examined the next six months’ worth of published scientific papers in those fields for specific language used in the published Wikipedia entries, and compared it to the language in the entries that never got published.
In chemistry, at least, the new topics proved popular. Both the published and control Wikipedia page entries had been selected from graduate level topics in chemistry that weren’t yet covered on Wikipedia. They included entries such as the synthesis of hydrastine (the precursor to a drug that stops bleeding). People were interested enough to view the new articles on average 4,400 times per month.
The articles’ words trickled into to the scientific literature. In the six months after publishing, the entries influenced about 1 in 300 words in the newly published papers in that chemical discipline. And scientific papers on a topic covered in Wikipedia became slightly more like the Wikipedia article over time. For example, if chemists wrote about the synthesis of hydrastine — one of the new Wikipedia articles — published scientific papers more often used phrases like “Passarini reaction,” a term used in the Wikipedia entry. But if an article never went on to Wikipedia, the scientific papers published on the topic didn’t become any more similar to the never-published article (which could have happened if the topics were merely getting more popular). Hanley and Thompson published a preprint of their work to the Social Science Research Network on September 26.
Unfortunately, there was no number of Wikipedia articles that could make econometrics happen. “We wanted something on the edge of a discipline,” Thompson says. But it was a little too edgy. The new Wikipedia entries in that field got one-thirtieth of the views that chemistry articles did. Thompson and Hanley couldn’t get enough data from the articles to make any conclusions at all. Better luck next time, econometrics.
The relationship between Wikipedia entries and the scientific literature wasn’t the same in all regions. When Hanley and Thompson broke the published scientific papers down by the gross domestic product of their countries of origin, they found that Wikipedia articles had a stronger effect on the vocabulary in scientific papers published by scientists in countries with weaker economies. “If you think about it, if you’re a relatively rich country, you have access at your institution to a whole list of journals and the underlying scientific literature,” Hanley notes. Institutions in poorer countries, however, may not be able to afford expensive journal subscriptions, so scientists in those countries may rely more heavily on publicly available sources like Wikipedia.
The Wikipedia study is “excellent research design and very solid analysis,” says Heather Ford, who studies digital politics at the University of Leeds in England. “As far as I know, this is the first paper that attributes a strong link between what is on Wikipedia and the development of science.” But, she says, this is only within chemistry. The influence may be different in different fields.
“It’s addressing a question long in people’s minds but difficult to pin down and prove,” says Shafee. It’s a link, but tracking language, he explains, isn’t the same as finding out how ideas and concepts were moving from Wikipedia into the ivory tower. “It’s a real cliché to say more research is needed, but I think in this case it’s probably true.”
Hanley and Thompson would be the first to agree. “I think about this as a first step,” Hanley says. “It’s showing that Wikipedia is not just a passive resource, it also has an effect on the frontiers of knowledge.”
It’s a good reason for scientists get in and edit entries within their expertise, Thompson notes. “This is a big resource for science and I think we need to recognize that,” Thompson says. “There’s value in making sure the science on Wikipedia is as good and complete as possible.” Good scientific entries might not just settle arguments. They might also help science advance. After all, scientists are watching, even if they won’t admit it.
