The Plight of the Ants
By: Wayne R. Curtis
At last nights research meeting, I expressed a general concern that is applicable to different degrees to us all. I conspired to refine this supposition during my brief obligatory period of nocturnal recapitulation. To this end, I have developed the ‘ant analogy’ which will relate my concern to a simple observation:
An ‘ant farm’ is an obligatory toy for any burgeoning young scientist. For those deprived of this experience, it is basically a thin slice of dirt between two transparent plates that permits intimate observation of ants. Having now experienced this toy from the parental perspective, I found many things to be extremely interesting. One in particular is the realization that the androgynous ants supplied with the kit are deprived of a ‘leader’, and more importantly any real purpose in life. (Maybe you are now starting to see the academic analogy). None-the-less, the industrious ants carry on their prescribed task of perforating the soil. At first, one might congratulate these ants on their tireless quest to explore their - albeit constrained - world. However, on closer inspection, one realizes that that their efforts are not so purposeful. Undaunted by the fact that all holes go no-where, they relentlessly carry the sand around ... even crawling over each other carrying sand in opposite directions (now the analogy should be clear).
The problem becomes quickly evident: hard work without thought accomplishes nothing. Although humans are endowed with the ability to think, a large fraction choose to use it for little more than distraction ... and so, live their lives like the members of the ant farm. This in itself is a testament to how easy it is to view the things we do as perfunctory assignments. The nature of research can easily lull you into an analogous mode. It takes a tremendous amount of potentially mindless effort to implement even the simplest of experiments. My concern is that you not become highly skilled ants. Although the tasks of research are not genetically ingrained as is the ant’s desire to dig tunnels, if you let someone else do all the thinking, your plight is not much better.
The plight of the ants is demoralizing - so much so, that it inspired me to provide an opportunity to get beyond their confinement (thus leading to Brandon’s ant farm being banished outdoors to the playset). However, escape was clearly stochastic, and not part of a thoughtful plan. Herein lies another potential pitfall in the confusion of serendipity and stochasticism. Certainly luck has played a great part in many of the major advances in scientific research; however, unlike random findings, serendipity requires thoughtful recognition of what is observed. So to, many of you are looking to escape the Penn State ant farm. Anticipating (correctly) that hard work is the ticket to a better place. However, you should keep in mind the plight of the ants. Learn to work deliberately and not simply relentlessly.
An ‘ant farm’ is an obligatory toy for any burgeoning young scientist. For those deprived of this experience, it is basically a thin slice of dirt between two transparent plates that permits intimate observation of ants. Having now experienced this toy from the parental perspective, I found many things to be extremely interesting. One in particular is the realization that the androgynous ants supplied with the kit are deprived of a ‘leader’, and more importantly any real purpose in life. (Maybe you are now starting to see the academic analogy). None-the-less, the industrious ants carry on their prescribed task of perforating the soil. At first, one might congratulate these ants on their tireless quest to explore their - albeit constrained - world. However, on closer inspection, one realizes that that their efforts are not so purposeful. Undaunted by the fact that all holes go no-where, they relentlessly carry the sand around ... even crawling over each other carrying sand in opposite directions (now the analogy should be clear).
The problem becomes quickly evident: hard work without thought accomplishes nothing. Although humans are endowed with the ability to think, a large fraction choose to use it for little more than distraction ... and so, live their lives like the members of the ant farm. This in itself is a testament to how easy it is to view the things we do as perfunctory assignments. The nature of research can easily lull you into an analogous mode. It takes a tremendous amount of potentially mindless effort to implement even the simplest of experiments. My concern is that you not become highly skilled ants. Although the tasks of research are not genetically ingrained as is the ant’s desire to dig tunnels, if you let someone else do all the thinking, your plight is not much better.
The plight of the ants is demoralizing - so much so, that it inspired me to provide an opportunity to get beyond their confinement (thus leading to Brandon’s ant farm being banished outdoors to the playset). However, escape was clearly stochastic, and not part of a thoughtful plan. Herein lies another potential pitfall in the confusion of serendipity and stochasticism. Certainly luck has played a great part in many of the major advances in scientific research; however, unlike random findings, serendipity requires thoughtful recognition of what is observed. So to, many of you are looking to escape the Penn State ant farm. Anticipating (correctly) that hard work is the ticket to a better place. However, you should keep in mind the plight of the ants. Learn to work deliberately and not simply relentlessly.