Sunday, August 21, 2016

Willie Wayne Williams, Ph.D. (Flash Fiction by Clara B. Jones published in 34th Parallel Magazine, Fr, 2016)

WILLIE WAYNE WILLIAMS, PHD BY CLARA B JONES

1 Not In Poor Taste When I told Mama I wanted to major in psychology, she laughed herself off the chair. “You always were mental!” she hollered, thinking I wouldn’t be able to earn a living. But I have known that Human Factors is a competitive field since Sophomore Year when USC sent a rep to talk with AP students. I picked up a handout listing salaries of graduates with diverse degrees, and Human Factors ranked just below Engineering. I signed up to receive information from the Psychology Department and the Affirmative Action Office, confident that I had found a way to combine my God-given talent for mathematics with Mama’s desire for me to help people. I wasn’t sure what skills I needed, but, based on my SAT scores, my minority student counselor assigned me to Dr Willie Williams’s robotics lab.

Dr Will is a short, obese man in his late-fifties, the only AfricanAmerican member of the National Academy of Sciences. Known for his research on the IQ of robots, he prefers to be called a Cognitive Psychologist, believing that humans and robots are both defined by synaptic information. His 2002 book, The Future of Man: A Non-quantitative Approach, proposed that, by the year 2020, AI will disappear as a field replaced by Psycho-robotics. When interviewed he denies that his ideas are speculative, insisting that consilience between man and machine was proven by his new species of Autonomid, the Hybroid, capable of feeling, including sexual attraction and aggression, though not love or hate, since the mysteries of consciousness have not yet been decoded.

In 2008, Dr Will was nominated for a Lasker Award recognizing his discovery that thermal power could replace electrical circuits, allowing a robot to make its own decisions without relying on a computer program. But his name was withdrawn and his ambitions were defeated when a first-year graduate student accused him of sexual harassment. After reviewing the case, the Department Chair, Dr Deseo, dismissed the accusation as an unfortunate misunderstanding, concluding, “Williams’ s research is provocative but it is not in poor taste.” Last month Dr Will submitted a proposal to the NIH requesting funds to build an anatomicallycorrect hybroid capable of gratifying a female partner without intervention by a third party. He was eager to reference the many therapeutic benefits such an Autonomid would have for females over 16 who have never experienced a clinical orgasm.
Dr Will’s most recent article for Archives of Sexual Behavior described a thermal actuator allowing fine motor control in response to clitoral temperature, and, in private, he boasts that the Hybroid’s tactile gripper is more effective than any micro-vibrator the Germans have on the market or in the planning stage. Mama would call Dr Will a pervert, but I realize that his project is on the cutting edge of science, destined to relieve human suffering. Dr Will says “sex” and “good sex” are not the same and that our research will teach me the difference.


2 Affirmative Action To: Editor, American Journal of Primatology From: Willie Wayne Williams, PhD, Professor of Psychology, University of South Carolina, Columbia, SC, USA Re: Rejection of paper, Description of new Primate species discovered in a laboratory in SE USA Date: 12 December 2012 Yesterday, I was notified that my paper, cited above, was rejected for publication in your journal. I am writing to appeal your decision, hoping to provide a rationale for another round of peer review. Consistent with ICZN guidelines I submitted the following classification in support of my description of a new biological type, Hybroidus williamsi (Anthropoidea, Autonomidae), the only new Primate Family described since 1986. My classification, as follows, is the result of more than a decade of intensive research, and the type specimen (holotype) has been deposited in Peabody Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, MA, USA. Paratypes are housed in my laboratory at the University of South Carolina.

Kingdom: Animalia
Phylum: Chordata
Class: Mammalia
Order: Primates
Suborder: Anthropoidea
Family: Autonomidae
Genus: Hybroidus
Species: H. williamsi

The authority of the preceding classification was questioned by each of three peer reviewers, opinions that I hereby challenge. In the only signed review, Dr Colin Groves referenced his 2001 text Primate Taxonomy, pointing out that several diagnostic criteria based on Population Biology were not satisfied. In particular, Groves was concerned that the rejected paper included no mention of H. williamsi Ecology, such as geographic distribution or beta diversity. Following his fashion of employing behavioral traits as diagnostic criteria, Groves noted that H. williamsi is, ceteris paribus, a non-reproductive taxon. I implore the Editor to consider that Primatologists are biased in favor of group-living, sexually-promiscuous anthropoids such as Alouatta palliata, Papio cynocephalus, and Pan troglodytes. Thus, Groves’s judgments are suspect. On the other hand, though Groves concluded that the paper under review was not acceptable for publication in AJP, he also stated that it was “promising, though premature”, suggesting that he would seriously consider a revision and resubmission.

The second opinion, an unsigned review, was very brief, emphasizing the lack of morphological, especially skeletal, concordance between H. williamsi and other Primates. Reviewer #2 also questioned whether the new species is a Mammal. It is clear that this professor failed to read my paper carefully since it was clearly stated in paragraph three that the H. williamsi holotype is an anatomically-correct specimen with functional sexual organs and a perfectly-formed squamosaldentary joint as well as a chain of three auditory ossicles. I petition the Editor to dismiss the conclusions submitted by Reviewer #2 who, obviously, was not qualified to evaluate my work.

Reviewer #3 questioned my sanity. Under normal circumstances I ignore personal attacks. However, I suggest that this insult is motivated either by jealousy or by racism. As Donna Haraway showed in Primate Visions, Primatology is a historically elitist field, a model of institutionalized racism with which I have had to contend my whole career. My advancement has been compromised at every turn by implied and expressed assumptions about my competence, and I have only received fair treatment from journals with blind review. It is common knowledge that, in 2008, I deserved to be awarded the Lasker, but that the Dean of my College thwarted the inevitable selection by goading a disgruntled graduate student to accuse me of sexual harassment. I later overheard that another nominee was a friend of the Dean who wanted me out of the running. Blacks can never win, it’s a proven fact. Ta-Nehisi Coates’s analysis is above reproach. The system is stacked against my community, especially someone who rose from the underclass.

The American Journal of Primatology has an obligation to insure the integrity of its review process, and I implore the Editor to investigate the ethical dimensions of my case. Only racism and speciesism can explain the rejection of my groundbreaking paper that deserves expedited publication rather than rejection. I am confident that many members of the American Society of Primatology will sympathize with my arguments, particularly those in favor of chimpanzee rights. If the Editor fails to support my paper elevating H. williamsi to species status, I will sue the organization without delay. I will also sue Reviewer #3 whose identity I am certain I know as a man who has sought my guidance on numerous occasions. His comment is evidence that he has seized an opportunity to tarnish my reputation as the foremost Cognitive Psychologist in the Southeast, if not on the East Coast of the United States.

I anxiously await the Editor’s reply that I am confident will demonstrate his commitment to equality and transparency. Though H. williamsi is not a haplorhine in the strictest sense of the term, he is an analog in virtually every sense*. With the Editor’s indulgence, “We shall overcome!” *The issue raised by Reviewer #2 that H. williamsi has no genetic code is currently being addressed in my laboratory.


3 A Winning Strategy “An intelligent agent is a system that perceives its environment and takes actions that maximize its chances of success.” M Hutter (2005) In my yearly review Dr Deseo said I am brilliant but a victim of Affirmative Action. He pointed out that I have a sense of entitlement and do not get along well with other faculty members. At times like this I usually flip the Race Card, but that move would be a weak comeback since Dr Deseo is a person of color. Donald Trump’s now infamous attacks on Mexican immigrants has moved the weight of public antipathy from black to brown.

I will have to think of another strategy that will allow me to avoid the eternal chatter draining the time of my colleagues, not a few of whom have no hope of achieving tenure, interfering with others’ schedules out of spite. Like most losers, my colleagues demonstrate form over function or substance. Though I am a full professor with the benefits of tenure, I won’t receive an increase in salary without Deseo’s recommendation to the Dean. I decided that the most effective incentive to earn his indulgence would be to offer him second authorship on my next scientific paper. Deseo studied ESP under Daryl Bem, and there’s no longer much demand for that specialization. He was promoted based on a few papers with Bem and his popular teaching manual, Advanced Descriptive Statistics: A Modular Approach. He is the perfect person to prepare a few bar graphs displaying Hybroidus williamsi’s improved IQ since we incorporated a thermally-powered artificial brain into his centralized input-output system.

At times like this I usually flip the Race Card, but that move would be a weak comeback since Dr Deseo is a person of color. Deseo is particularly well-suited to administration because of his gregarious personality combined with refined emotional intelligence. He could join my lab as a consultant on Social AI. Engaging in a renowned research program will enhance his reputation and advance his career, and I will be certain to plant the idea that he might some day be Dean. Deseo will be obligated to me for the foreseeable future, and I have other plans to make him warm putty in my palm. Tit for Tat is Chess, a Race Card is Checkers.


4 Oedipal Failure This is a difficult case. Black men always resist analysis. They never want to discuss their mothers. Dr Williams seemed pleasant enough, but sexual harassment is a serious charge, and his job at the university is on the line. I had a month to make a diagnosis and develop a treatment plan, but the real challenge will be the recommendation since the man’s future is in my hands. The professor seemed incapable of Free Association, preferring instead to lecture me about the similarities between humans and robots.
It was a simple exercise to figure out that his research subject, Hybroidus williamsi, is an alter ego and that the metal simulacrum embodies the professor’s ideal sexual object. A fifty-six-year-old, unmarried male fixated on an anatomically-correct male model is obviously manifesting homoerotic tendencies which Freud would attribute to Oedipal failure. I was able to determine that, before deciding to major in Psychology, Williams planned to become a missionary in the AME Zion Church. An only child who slept with his single mother until the age of fourteen, the professor was conceived by what his mother called “rape”, telling her son that children born to niggers owed a special debt to their Father in Heaven. Williams changed his mind about missionary work when his nocturnal emissions became more pleasurable than any of his activities when awake, and he reported that he craved sleep continuously except when eating fatty foods. Clearly, working with robots is a substitute for playing with dolls, a metaphor in either sex for domination and control, common fantasies among homosexuals with smothering mothers.

Williams suffers from a Pygmalion Complex. After creating H. williamsi, the robot became the singular object of the professor’s desire, as real to him as any human would be and infinitely more satisfying because less demanding. I see pathology in many of my male patients who readily transfer their incestuous desires onto me, a black female psychoanalyst. Occasionally, I have experienced counter-transference, but the professor’s skin color is too dark to arouse me sexually. I am not, on principle, opposed to having an affair with one of my patients, but it would have to be discreet. Like Williams, my profession is bound by the morals of white people that don’t apply to us. I agree with Ta-Nehisi Coates that whites are responsible for blacks who rape and kill and fornicate. The races cannot be held to the same standards of behavior. If my patient is guilty of sexual indiscretions at all his guilt lies in the realm of the unconscious, and he cannot be held accountable for that.
Black men always resist analysis. They never want to discuss their mothers. Williams’s accuser should address the fixation of her psychosexual development at the Phallic Stage. Her identification with the professor was disrupted by her Superego, a trauma leading to Reaction Formation represented by the fantasy of sexual harassment. This unconscious defense mechanism characterizes white girls torn between desire and perfectionism. Clearly, Williams is the abused party, and the Dean is likely to see it my way.


5 E.O. Wilson Was Wrong From the East-facing window of the men’s residence hall, I can see the blues, yellows, and reds of the chapel’s windows, reminding me that I was once a pious student on this campus. I received an excellent education at Livingstone or so my grades make it appear, and I was never lonely since Mama lived less than a mile away. My friend Ham had a 1969 Plymouth and we drove to Mama’s place every Sunday after church. She always sent us back to our rooms with fried drumsticks, lard biscuits, and pound cake, a ritual as predictable as Jesus’s resurrection.
For my twentieth birthday Mama gave me a laminated map of Liberia and a card that read, “To the future missionary from his proud Mother.” When I decided to attend graduate school instead, I gained her approval by arguing that any Christian boy could become a missionary but few men could create a wholly separate form of life. Though my research is closer to manufacturing than to evolution, I have been invited back to Livingstone to make my case in public that Hybroidus williamsi is worthy of species status. The American Journal of Primatology refused to reconsider my appeal to revise and resubmit my 2012 paper describing the new type, and one of the original reviewers, a former friend and colleague, has made a clown of me in the scientific community. The major objection to my requisition has been that H. williamsi cannot be identified by genetic code, but, funded generously by the Templeton Foundation, my lab is attempting to fuse the hybroid’s steel skeleton with a unique sequence of haplotypes.

We recently received an extension of our grant, and I am using this historically-black platform to present my most recent defense of the new taxon. Based on ideas proven in the Humanities, I will describe the new Family, Genus, and Species in a public forum of my peers. If phylogeny conveys meaning, we cannot say its contents are fixed. If Biology is in flux, we cannot locate the discipline in Time and Space. If a species is a description published in a journal, we cannot claim it represents reality. I hold that Primatology is a meta-narrative dominating the anthropological conversation, all lines leading to humans. As Primatologists would have it, H. williamsi is “the Other”, non-white, and inorganic. My claim is that this hybroid is a virtual signifier, a type superior to man, created by the created, the meta-narrator’s narrator. In posthuman Biology, every taxon is hybroid, characterized by technoplasticity. From Autonomidae, a new Consilience has emerged. E.O. Wilson was wrong. The Humanities will not reduce to Biology. The opposite is inevitable. The Linnaean system is a Social Construct, and H. williamsi its newest race.Though my research is closer to manufacturing than to evolution, I have been invited back to Livingstone to make my case in public that Hybroidus williamsi is worthy of species status.

Originally published in 34th Parallel (Fr), 2016


Wednesday, August 10, 2016

Ailuropoda's Path (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

Ailuropoda's Path

My mom flew to China to buy a panda that matched her new rug
But customs said the bears are endangered and don't like American bamboo.
Mom knew that Asians like crab cakes
So she bribed the agent with Red Lobster® coupons
And boarded a flight from Gansu to Portland
Where she locked her pet in our garage
And went to see a botanist at the community college
To buy a week's worth of Asian bamboo
But it cost too much
So Dr. Wang told mom that pandas like gelato 
Especially peppermint flavor
And mom said Great, there's a freezer in the garage
and Trader Joe's® sells gelato
but probably not peppermint.
Dr. Wang said the bears like rum raisin as much as peppermint
But alcoholic gelato is only sold on holidays.
Mom mixed peppermint patties with heavy cream
And Dr. Wang suggested using Italian parsley as garnish
But before mom went home to make the bear's meal
Dr. Wang told her giant panda's know the path to enlightenment
But don't choose to follow it.

Sunday, August 7, 2016

/I only swim in lakes.../ (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

/I only swim in lakes—/

David Beck lives in San Francisco reading about dodos
But he can't adopt one since his cat would be jealous
And customs wouldn't give him a permit.
Aren't dodos extinct?
A survivor lives at the London Zoo
But space is needed for renovations
And the dodo isn't a popular exhibit because visitors feel guilty
...especially tourists from Portugal.
My son is married to a Brazilian who only speaks Spanish so he moved to Cancun to work for GQ® where my son ran into him on the beach.
The beach is too hot
So I only swim in lakes and never need sunscreen
But Frans DeWaal says dodos have empathy
Because they are social and never fight
...and because they can't fly.
The dodo in London sings like a sparrow
Though the species aren't related

But David Beck placed them side by side in his sculpture, “Zoophobia.”

Thursday, June 2, 2016

Is Science More Than Mapping, Perhaps, Truth? (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

Is Science More Than Mapping, Perhaps, Truth?

A map propels me forward as I move across life's tarmac spending glucose going out of style. Mother-of-Pearl buttons on a Pringle sweater, kilt worn for boxing, gloves looking like bruised brains pickled in solution with noisy crowds an anodyne to thoughts perturbing nets of neurons, templates for other sports.

If neuroscience is not fiction maps are drawn at every level framing physical laws from neurons firing rhythmic as a child's sobbing but more predictable, so many factors to compute by brains old as annelids, archives of action patterns, origin of novelty, pathways constrained, limited in number—in plasticity—as Weinrich has made clear.

What is Behavior now that maps have been drawn and whole organisms are partitioned into their smallest bits as Tetrapods were rived from three to four?

Basal actions transition to questions of a higher order: What did fruit taste like in the Cretaceous?

Temperature is necessary but not sufficient for simple proofs of therian life history, Mammalogy resisting detours from tradition: No formula more powerful than life history, no method more accurate than description, no algorithm more beautiful than the rules of systematics, no elegant power laws of physiology or Mass.


Mammals as prototypes of the ideal form: Rodentia over David.

/...a role to play/ (Poem by Clara B. Jones)

/...a role to play/

I watched you sitting on the terrace of that shop on Broadway, not the street in Manhattan, but your Broadway in the mountains, not so crowded or loud as New York where one block is a mile away from any starting point.

Robust quadrueds rose in the Triassic, wide radiations writing “The Age of Mammals” across terrestrial landscapes, one dominant type destined to invade each niche.

Physics is the mother of mechanics, not beauty, atoms—not as atoms might be but what they have become in form and function accompanying Darwin from sea to island and back to water, reentering the bottleneck of chance and survival, selection not intentional but lost nonetheless by inferior types unable to survive another day without the intervention of gods, not mythic gods but humans with guilty impulses reclaiming and restoring zootics, some common like aging faces, some menacingly exotic, ecosystem engineers found in key positions as muscle articulates with bone, a leg superior to a finger, though both have a role to play.

It would be useless to wallow in sentiment over the monkey's wounds or over his fear of my tranquilizer gun pointed at his furry thigh.


The physicist weighs Mass and Velocity—Force unmatched though correlated as species coexisting may become competitors again if predators vanish.

Thursday, May 5, 2016

Memory And Climate Change [Poem by Clara B. Jones]

Evolution And Climate Change

Glacial silences distorted paths of caring
creating icy wilderness.
Like elusive trout cynical of artificial lures
we cast then skillfully retreated into rocky habitats
returning by some weeping urge
toward what we hoped was real.
Seasons cycled memories that changed without our notice
until the stream-bed dried
exposing curves and angles invisible before.

Sentiment buys nothing on the desert.
Ecology has no rule except its own.
Survival is no luxury of choice but function
where chance competes with necessity for life
where ultimate replaces mechanism, ceasing to be a dream
where borders between freedom and wilderness
are preserved in form and silence
where poetry is but a promissory note one is unable to repay.





Fracture Of Coherent Systems [Poem by Clara B. Jones]

Fracture Of Coherent Systems
DOI: 10.1038/srep04766

Lagrangian paths
in Gordian conditions
shaped by living swarms.

My feelings for you grow
Rhizomes that are not self-organized
energized by frictive touching
barely avoiding disaster.
Fragments of our bodies colliding
searching our landscape for patterns
seeking order in turbination
jamming stimulus detectors
clouding the world we longed to inhabit
needing retreat but embracing fitfully.

Leaves of the poplar flushed like floating kelp
three days before sapling became tree.
This event might have been the cause
from which all things were consequences
but azure is marginal to the hegemony of blue
the chaos of orange dominated by red.

The anxiety of yellow is chronic
a xanthous force whose center cannot hold.
Asymmetries resolve contradictions
giving similarities and differences relief
against horizons whose suns are pushed below ground by gravity.




Wednesday, May 4, 2016

Amalie Dietrich (1821-1891), German Naturalist

A frequently quoted, though possibly apochryphal, story relates a conversation between Charles Darwin and the wife of a wealthy Londoner.  The woman approached Darwin after a public lecture to say: "Oh, Mr. Darwin, I hope it isn't true; but, if it is true, I hope noone finds out about it!"  Most Victorian women would have agreed with this perspective, if they dared express an opinion of natural selection at all.  One exception was (Koncordie) Amalie Dietrich (26 May 1821-9 March 1891), a middle-class German woman taught to value nature by her mother. 

Amalie married an unsuccessful medical doctor who worked as a pharmacist; however, his true passion was botanical collection.  Amalie's husband provided her with scientific training, particularly the skills required for work as a naturalist.  Though a daughter, Charitas, was born to the couple, they spent long periods of time collecting specimens in the forests of Germany.  According to some, though not all, reports, Amalie separated from her husband after he was unfaithful; however, she apparently returned to the marriage, leaving again permanently, with her daughter, at the age of 40. 

Upon the recommendation of a male acquaintance familiar with her experience, she was hired by the director of a German museum to assemble a collection of Australian plants and animals. Leaving her daughter in a boarding school, Dietrich sailed to Australia, and knowledge of Darwin's Beagle voyage may have provided her with motivation and courage to leave home.  Amalie was highly successful at her work in Australia and remains notable for her faunal collections of birds (arguably the largest collection of all time), spiders, snakes, etc., in addition to flora.  Though Dietrich apparently never published under her own name, several (male) scientists/naturalists of her time wrote papers or books based upon her work (e.g., C. Luerssen [1843-1916]; Karel Domin [1882-1953]). 

In some reports on Amalie, she is described as an anthropologist as well as botanist and naturalist.  Documentation about this aspect of her career is fuzzy, perhaps because of its controvertial nature, perhaps because little information exists about this phase of her career, or perhaps the extent of her role in the decimation of Australian aboriginals has been exaggerated.  Since at least two of the documents reporting that Dietrich was known as "the angel of black death" were written by advocates of creationism and anti-abortion politics, it is unclear to what degree Dietrich's participation in the collection of "savages" was a byproduct of others' activities or a direct cause of the escalation of aboriginal genocide (as claimed of her by a few sources). 

Whatever the case, the few quotations about her work attributed to Dietrich that I was able to locate online, indicate clearly that she was passionate about her career, the pleasures and rigors of field work, and the opportunity to collect organisms for broad dissemination (presumably for European museums and other collections).  I have found only one reference claiming that Amalie was a Darwinian, and that reference used in a context intended to link evil Darwin and "social darwinism" with moral creationism and the anti-abortion movement.  On the other hand, no text that I read suggested in any manner that Dietrich had any religious inclinations at all, an open-mindedness that, if accurate, would have made her receptive to Darwin's new science, including, perhaps, Social Darwinism and eugenics.  Whatever the case, Amalie Dietrich may stand as the first female Darwinist and, in all likelihood, the most accomplished and famous female fieldworker of her time.  Based upon the limited information I was able to access, her life and work deserve further study.



========================================================================
ADDENDUM, 29 December 2013:

Amalie Dietrich: a singular botanical and natural history collector in nineteenth century Australia.M A R G I N: life & letters in early Australia - November 1, 2009
Ann Moyal
Word count: 1637.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]
The Australian Colonies attracted their fair share of foreign naturalists and the presence of German botanical collectors and scientists tended to form a recurring theme in nineteenth century scientific investigation. Baron von Hugel and Ludwig Preiss had botanised in the Swan River Colony in the 1830s and early 1840s and these early flora prospectors carried unique collections back to Europe. In the 1840's Ludwig Leichhardt, a proficient student of botany and natural science, collected through a sweep of country from Sydney to Moreton Bay and on his expedition overland to Port Essington before he and his party disappeared without a trace on his third overland journey to look for an inland sea. Some of Leichhardt's specimens found their way to cabinets in France and Germany though he himself felt a strong patriotic desire to keep his collections in his adopted country
Ferdinand von Mueller's presence as Government Botanist in Victoria was another reminder of the teutonic presence in Australian botany, a situation which at times raised hackles and provoked xenophobia. Yet as New South Wales's pre-eminent geologist, the Rev. W.B. Clarke wisely observed in 1844, 'If foreign naturalists come amongst us to carry away the spoils of nature, Englishmen did the same in Germany and France and Russia, and anyhow the bounds of knowledge are increased'.
One of the most unusual German 'intruders' was a woman, Konkordie Amalie Dietrich (1821-1891) and it fell to the Godeffroy Museum of Natural History in Hamburg to enjoy the unique distinction of employing a woman collector to explore, amass, and consign to them botanical and natural history materials from Eastern Australia. Born at Siebenlehn, Saxony, the daughter of a leather-maker, and educated at the village school, Amalie Nelle developed her passionate interest in botany when in 1847 she met and married Wilhelm Dietrich, a member of a family long associated with botany and botanical taxonomy, who made a living by collecting botanical and natural history objects and selling them to institutions, scholars and apothecaries. An eager disciple of her husband's craft, Amalie rapidly became the key member of the collecting team. She travelled on foot across Germany, Belgium and Holland at first with her husband, but when amorous diversions lured him to other flowers, then alone with her daughter, Charitas.
In 1863 she made contact with the Pacific trader, G. J. Godeffroy, who, while at first reluctant, was persuaded by Amalie's scientific clients to engage her as a collector in Australia. 'Frau Dietrich', wrote one botanical expert on her behalf, 'has exceptional talent for her profession, a well-tried eye for all that Nature presents, and a great certainty in the classification of collected material.' She was also a willing work-horse. 'On her long and remarkable journeys', he added, 'she has invariably shown remarkable perseverance and fortitude'.
Surprisingly Godeffroy offered her a ten year contract, but before entrusting her to her career, he taught how to handle firearms, to skin and eviscerate birds and mammals, and--eager for Aboriginal relics--how to pack human skulls and skeletons. He also fitted her out with a workmanlike 'trousseau' including a pocket lens, a microscope, 6 insect cages, rags for packing, 6 tins of spirits, 20 pounds of tow, 5 quires of tissue paper, some bottles for live snakes, gunpowder and small shot, percussion caps, 100 jars and stoppers, and 2 boxes of poison. With her she carried David Dietrich's Plant Lexicon, an English Dictionary and some English lesson books though Amalie's command of English remained rudimentary.
This small, stockily-built explorer arrived in Brisbane aboard La Rochelle in August 1863. She had left her daughter, Charitas in the care of friends but kept in touch with her by letters, which, published by her daughter, form the basis of our knowledge. 'With truly festive feeling', she wrote Charitas on arrival, 'I slung over my shoulder my case filled with flour, salt, tea, and matches, put on my large straw hat, and set off on my wanderings'. Instincts of distance and loneliness were quickly transformed to those of wonder. 'What a lot of stuff is to be found here', she exclaimed, 'you have only to put out your hands and help yourself'. At first Amalie, truly feminine in this, worried about her first consignments to Hamburg; 'they are sure to be a little anxious as to whether I am equal to the task'. But with the competence of an experienced collector, she was rapidly launched. Within eight months, she had explored from Brisbane to Gladstone and Rockhampton and dispatched 12 cases of botanical and other specimens to Hamburg. In the clammy sub-tropical heat of late summer in Rockhampton she conveyed her experiences to her daughter.
'You can have no idea of how things flourish here, and what a scramble there is for space. Ferns, amongst which I disappear entirely, grow under the giant trees, and I am often frightened when I have to force my way through the luxurious creepers, ferns and branches, Large orchids hang from the trees by almost invisible threads; they are so wonderfully formed, have such beautiful colour, and look at me so mysteriously, that I pick them with certain awe'. Her keen eye noted the unconforming oddities of the land. 'The swans are black, some mammals have beaks ... and I noticed a water wagtail which moved its tail not up and down, but from side to side, ... Some trees shed their bark instead of their leaves, and a mournful impression is produced by the sight of these giants, chill and naked among the others'.
If Australia offered a weird and lonely backdrop for this solitary woman, it also offered an invigorating freedom. 'No one', she wrote, 'circumscribes my zeal. I stride across the wider plains, wander through virgin forests. I have felled trees in order to collect different kinds of wood. I cross rivers and lakes in a small canoe, visit islands and collect--collect--collect. It is just as if Herr Godeffroy had made me a present of this vast continent'. But Amalie Dietrich did more than collect and pack. She was rigorously accurate in her descriptions, skilful in her collections, and undaunted by the range of specimens required (once killing and disembowelling a crocodile), and intellectually committed to her native land. She had in view 'the scholars who go to work on what I send', and through them she foresaw that 'I shall gain recognition'. Recognition was important to her.
Amalie remained in Queensland for eight years. On every available ship she consigned to Europe cases of stuffed birds, preserved mammals, and always plants and more plants. In Rockhampton, fire destroyed her possessions. Would Godeffroy lose confidence in her? she wondered. Would she be recalled? Far from recalling, Godeffroy re-equipped her. In 1869 she was in Bowen, visited Holbourne Island and the Great Barrier Reef and, back to Bowen, gratified her employer by shipping home 13 Aboriginal skeletons and several skulls. In March 1871 she left for
Brisbane, Sydney and Melbourne where von Mueller, her fellow countryman, received her before her trip to Tonga and the islands. Her reputation had preceded her. In 1867 Amalie was elected a Fellow of Stettin Entomological Society and won a gold medal and first prize in the Paris Universal Exhibition of 1867 for a rare collection of 50 blocks of wood, each half a trunk in thickness, representative of Queensland trees. It was not for nothing she was called 'the fearless Frau Amalie Dietrich'. Entirely resolute in her scientific searches, careless of the nature of the reception by an alien society, Amalie set no premium on comfort and joyfully 'lighted upon treasures no one has secured before me'. Even in her own country she would have been a striking figure: in the Colonies her professionalism and self-sufficiency distinguished and emancipated her. She remained totally unaffected by the confining mores of her time.
In 1873 Amalie Dietrich arrived back in Hamburg, 'a little, grey-haired, bent lady, wearing canvas shoes with slits in them for greater comfort' and accompanied by two tame eagles. 'Within a limited circle', historian of botany L. A. Gilbert sums up judiciously, 'she was highly respected as an ardent collector and accurate observer. She had, reputedly, produced in Australia what was said for her time, to be the most important collection made by any single person'. In recognition Godeffroy employed her at his museum for thirteen years and, when his collections passed to the City of Hamburg, Amalie gained a post as Curator for the remainder of her life at the Botanical Museum. Her own large collections remained intact until damaged by air raids in World War II, but duplicates of many Australian botanical specimens were sent to Mueller at the National Herbarium in Melbourne. Amalie thus served both Germany and Australia and fertilized botanical science. Mueller repaid her by naming several plants in her honour, Acacia dietrichiana, Bonamia dietrichiana, and the moss Endotrichella dietrichiae; and several species of algae were named for her. A number of Australian insects also bear her name, while the famous Australian Skipper Butterfly of Queensland, Cephrenes amalia, flutters perennially in the regions she explored.
Notes of Sources
Charitas Bischoff Amalie Dietrich: ein Leben (Berlin, 1917). Charitas Bischoff.
The Hard Road: the life story of Amalie Dietrich, Naturalist, 1821-1891 English translation by A. Liddell Geddie. (London 1931).
Ann Moyal, Scientists in Nineteenth Century Australia. A Documentary History. Cassell Australia, 1976.
A. Jefferis Turner, 'Amalie Dietrich--A Forgotten Naturalist', The Queensland Naturalist, P.V. 8, pp82-88, September 1933.
E.M. Webster, Whirlwinds in the plain. Ludwig Leichardt- friends, foes and history. Melbourne University Press, 1980.




Citation Details
Title: Amalie Dietrich: a singular botanical and natural history collector in nineteenth century Australia.
Author: Ann Moyal
Publication: M A R G I N: life & letters in early Australia (Magazine/Journal)
Date: November 1, 2009
Publisher: Mulini Press
Issue: 79    Page: 5(5)





Friday, April 22, 2016

Exiting The Core Dialog (or, Default To Pseudoscience) [Poem for John Hurrell Crook by Clara B. Jones]

Exiting The Core Dialog (or, Default To Pseudoscience)
dedicated to the late John Hurrell Crook (1930-2011)

You were my Guru
sharing an elevator from Toronto to Bristol
Social Ecology's Père.
Restless wife

leaving you imploding, reinventing
a rugged Quelea
a monk of fieldwork.
Did Africa loom?

Did you miss reading journals?
Did your colleagues write?
Did you feel manly
or was that all in the past?

Before the Four Purposes supplanted Science
exceeding Dharma's proscriptions
filling every void
now seeking a different balance

compelled like other stoics to forfeit Natural History
for Moksha manifest as enlightenment
and for the spiritual wealth of Artha
no longer weighed in the currency of papers and books

a domain of joy as intentional Kama
Charvaka appealing to lone materialists
not at ease with magic and gods
switching from fact-finder to spiritualist

alien in the halls of Cambridge.
A wife defined by roles to others
categories like tributaries always moving, changing
sometimes in random directions

or immeasurable and ill-defined
engineering the ecosystem of kin, friends, acquaintances
as the Falémé nurtures soils and microbes
power over living things and things not living

abiotic and biotic
landscapes rugged as the slopes of Kouroudiako
where a wife near Saraya knows abandoning her fate
would mean death or silence

not the freedom felt by your wife leaving Bristol for London
then more popular than Stilton
dancing in halls when once she served port to your peers.
Her agency yanked you from worthy colleagues

no further prospects save surrendering Self
as another form of contract
left by your woman to conquer new demons.
With or without Ego, cause and effect prevail.

The act of writing is a conduit to Truth
that you abandoned for another sort of insight
turning inward to reject the landscapes of probabilities
odds offering few direct rewards

propelling you instead behind a veil of contemplation
seeking your non-self rather than a higher self
a mien without craving
if that state is possible

beyond mere abstinence from pleasure
not pleasure but abstinence from the satisfactions of the unconscious
relief from responsibility
trading arrogance for enlightenment or another quality of knowing

not seeking facts, equations but received integrity
seated alone on a mat.
A body crafted for work
Gramsci built for hegemony

von Frisch built for bees
Strassmann built for microbes
Dickinson built for poetry
wired for thought expansive and novel

Seewiesen encompassing Max Planck and Munich.
Your body performing intentionally
in Morocco and the Himalayas
willing the unity of Science and Buddhism

removed from the certainties of reductionism
leaving you to walk unclothed across ice
at a time when you needed the sun's thaw
striking a bargain with Sheng Yen

to wear the rough robe of celibacy
though you never extinguished desire
recalling craving controlled by midbrain
competing with frontal cortex for control.


Originally published in International Society of Behavioral Ecology Newsletter, 2015, vol. 27, issue 2, pp 10-11


Ode To A Species In A Time Of Extinction [Poem for Dan Janzen by Clara B. Jones]

Ode To A Species* In A Time Of Extinction

for Dan Janzen

We are losing ground, Dan said.
And I responded, Yes.
Juan Santamaria's tears are falling on the rainforest
weeping for their loss
almost gone the way of jaguars

legumes and lianas missing their playful leaps
and figs finding another kind to spread their seeds
figs sweeter than mangoes could not prevent their exile
by new conquistadores born in their own country
with villas in Alajuela and partners in Miami and Austin

flying into Corcovado in Cessnas
collecting samples of timber and ore
as I once collected their fragile bodies
destined for museums in Cambridge and Albuquerque
an orange monkey, head crowned grey as soot

stalking them on horseback with campesinos
no longer rulers of Osà
their peninsula fragmented
diurnal omnivore
moving to another landscape

groups growing smaller
grasshoppers and birds' eggs once fed them
prey to eagles' talons
now lost to human predators
whose lives are bound by decades not by years.

*Saimiri oerstedii



Originally published in International Primate Protection League Newsletter, December 2015, vol. 42, #3, p 24.

Friday, March 25, 2016

AMNH (1986-1987) (for the late Sydney Anderson) [Poem by Clara B. Jones]

AMNH (1986-1987)
for the late Sydney Anderson

I sat across from you
studying the Pleistocene
capricious and chill.

Brainy Primate types
riven by hostile climate
into their own kind.

(Her performance flexible as Rattus
following Schneirla
from a past with no future to a lab with no subjects.)

Your curator mind
preferring forests


hot and green.

Two Songs About Conservation by Clara B. Jones

Dian's Song*

On top of Visoke covered with clouds
floats the spirit of Fossey in tropical shroud.

Her work didn’t end when she died that cold night
killed by an outlaw before his long flight.

Dian would beseech us to stand on the side
of endangered species with nowhere to hide.

She lived for gorillas and died for them, too
transferring the duty to me and to you.

On top of Visoke all covered with clouds
floats the spirit of Fossey in tropical shroud.

by Clara B. Jones

*Sing to the tune of, “On Top of Ole Smoky”


=================================================================



Conservation Song*

I.U.C.N., C.A.B.S.,
CONICIT, CONICIT,
C.I.T.E.S., and
W.W.F. all
take the heat,
take the heat.

Chorus: Conservation, conservation
is our task, is our task.
Minimize extinction, minimize extinction
guard the past, guard the past.

Save rainforests, save rainforests
and their genes, and their genes.
These are rich resources,
these are rich resources,
by all means, by all means.

Chorus: Conservation, conservation
is our task, is our task.
Minimize extinction, minimize extinction
guard the past, guard the past.

LepilemurMicrocebus,
AvahiSaguinus,
Cheirogaleidae,
Daubentoniidae,
LagothrixColobus.

Chorus: Conservation, conservation
is our task, is our task.
Minimize extinction, minimize extinction
guard the past, guard the past.

Stewardship of biota
has long-term gains,
long-term gains.
Human preservation
of these populations
strengthens chains,
strengthens chains.

Chorus: Conservation, conservation
is our task, is our task.
Minimize extinction, minimize extinction
guard the past, guard the past.

If the forests
of the tropics
disappear
from the lands,
we will bear the guilt for
this extermination
on our hands, on our hands.

Chorus: Conservation, conservation
is our task, is our task.
Minimize extinction, minimize extinction
guard the past, guard the past.

by Clara B. Jones


*Sing to the tune of, “Frère Jacques”



Ode To The Waterbear (Tardigrada) [Poem by Clara B. Jones]

Ode To The Waterbear (Tardigrada)

What animal is handsomer than you?
Oh, Tardigrade, I praise your will to live.
In hostile habitats your types survive,
with fossils from the Cambrian profuse.

Sometimes you prey on small invertebrates
or feed on algae when not drying out,
I watch you through my Nikon microscope
using your two hind legs to grasp substrate.

Your mouth is muscular with sticky glands,
your brain has many lobes and paired neurons,
your rhabdomeric eyes are shaped like cones,
your sex life is discreet like any man's.

A feather in your cap, oh, Tardigrade!
No specimen of life was better made!

Purely Academic by Clara B. Jones

Purely Academic

“It's acceptable to be ignorant but not acceptable to make a mistake.” Japanese Proverb

1. I planned on nursing.
“Follow Titchener!”, you said.
“Join the alliance
of arts, science, and letters.”

I started the path you cleared.

2. It is difficult
to sound sincerely grateful
for gratis gifts
of insight and instruction.

A formal hug upon sight
confirmed the shape of function.

3. I wanted to please
to study Primitive Art
to mimic the Wasps
those sophisticated girls
drinking wine from Steuben glass.

Your Greek Bronze Coins honored civilization's relics.

4. Ours was a Wabi Sabi relationship
impermanent, shadowy, flawed.
I tried to set a price on it
like a feminine Japanese portrait
never judging it's value.

You taught me to write
in the academic form
of Aichi's model.
Following your way
the long path was shorter
because of culture.
Koshima monkeys
washing grainy potatoes
risk-takers taking the lead.

High Priest's Sand Bringing
collected from monkeys' hands.

5. Overtly brazen
marginally intimate
independent mien.

“A notably large volume,
we'll weed out each mistake.”

If Jasper had lived
would these games have driven him home?
Would he have succumbed to your covert malady?

6. You disrespected
a scholar by your appropriation.

Stored in your cases
my beautiful specimens
name never tagged.

Two times by great men
princes of fieldwork
collections preserved.

Was it theft or convention?
Did you think I'd not notice?
Was it blind reflex?
Were I your son
would you have grieved
a reputation harmed?

It's only tough luck
laws unbroken
rituals at work.

7. Your wife at my door,
long blonde hair
short blue dress
seeking my husband
l a female bee-eater
forgoing the helper role
a Kenyan matriarch
whose son's wife cooks.

She left, you imploded
embracing necessity like a woman.

8. You say you are great
honored for publications
destined to endure
but is this legacy sufficient
to outweigh your losses?

9. The Elephant House
where you kissed her playfully
sheltered dying breeds.

10. No hay problema.
I won't hold it against you.
What you share with them
matters not at all.
In life as in statistics
difference is everything
and a genome is pathways removed
from the face that harbors it.

Were I young again,
your reputation would matter naught.

11. Impeccable restraint
in the manner of Empire.
Attention to detail
in the manner of homeland.
A lifetime following Hakone T
halting only to taste the snows of Kanagawa
to touch the pine trees of Aichi.



Dandelion Wine, Xanthous In Color (1978) (for the late William C. Dilger) by Clara B. Jones

Dandelion Wine, Xanthous In Color (1978)
for the late William C. Dilger

You and Wong Kar Wai
needed nothing but loss
to mine meaning.
Insuring failure
secured your prize.

From laziness or sloth or fear
I never learned your winter sparrows
whose barbs reminded you of Agapornis
and of a lab in Seewiesen
harboring birds and war.

Are there any new days?
Is Munich still the same?
Did Konrad's gaze
presage your fall into darkness
bearing a slight smile?

Trout for our lunch
at a castle near Munich
not in Vienna
where another castle
molded my photograph.

“You are a fascist.”
I startled and stared at an aging classic
Drosophila master
imperious and Gordian.



Schedules (for the late B.F. Skinner) by Clara B. Jones

Schedules

“What is love except another name for the use of positive reinforcement?” B.F. Skinner (1948)

Two private meetings
hindered by self-conscious awe
of your forward mien,
confident of your future
in the canon of Science.

Did you ever doubt
the operant resurgence
or cognition's end?
Did you repress proud Watson?
Were you grateful for his fall?

Long before Harvard
I saw the creative crib
used for an infant.
Tough parenting,
like rigorous Methods.

Attending High Church
what hot feelings could surpass
holding Court with you
expectant pigeon
waiting for pellets or drink?

Thanks for the rats, Marty.
You modeled Skinner's Methods sempiternally.



Priorities (#womeninscience) by Clara B. Jones

Priorities (#womeninscience)

“Women have no wilderness in them.” Louise Bogan (1923)

1. She said, “Don't do it.”
Barrenness recommended.
Science is uphill.

I was your student
but her path led upward.
I paid with reason.

You wanted babies
and forthwith tossed a career
to an agreeable postdoc.

2. Having one more child
made me a disappointment
fieldwork compromised.
“How hallowed is your contract?”
“Have you thought about Plan B?”

Few follow the path
that men understand.

3. She liked the idea
Sociobiology abstract and poignant
not child's play to me
a promised Acknowledgment.

A lasting lesson
a scientific method
now cautious of her concepts.

4. No seeming affect,
betraying the grievous loss
to a former friend.
What pleasures did wild jaguars
trade as compensation?

Emotions shaken
intentional life secured.
Work trumps loneliness
another healing anodyne.

5. Don't blame me, young girl
for problems he could not solve
pretending otherwise.

Formulas without proofs
pressed wildflower blossoms
scattered on campus.

6. Unlike Vienna or Provincetown or Big Cove
the flowering legumes of Palo Verde
beckoned bees
foragers
lonely travelers
to suck
to taste
to repurpose
E(nergy)
until the loopy webs
uncoiled from cutting
overgrazing
civilizing management
to please manicured invasives
hostile to sweat and rain.

The feminization of wilderness
wrought by restless men
wooing a frivolous kind
no longer occupied by children
or other homebound projects.