Machismo and excellence in cooking and statistics

The inevitable return to TV this week of Masterchef, after a close season shorter even than the English Premier League, has (for strange reasons that I hope nonetheless will become clear) triggered this response of sorts to Brian McGill’s post on Statistical machismo over at Dynamic Ecology last year. Brian lamented the use by ecologists of the latest ‘must use’ statistical method, which is typically complicated both to perform and (perhaps especially) to interpret, without necessarily having much of an effect on the conclusions drawn. He felt this macho posturing – as he puts it, “my paper is better because I used tougher statistics”; in Masterchef terms, “analysis doesn’t get any tougher than this” – ends up overcomplicating papers and wasting everyone’s time. I enjoyed the post at the time, and felt it raised some interesting points; and though I disagreed with the thrust of it, this was not to the extent that I felt compelled to comment, still less to respond. Now that I’ve come up with a convoluted, almost certainly over-played culinary analogy, though, I’m going to have a bash at expressing my thoughts on the matter properly.

If you watch Masterchef (especially the early rounds) you’ll probably see a great deal of culinary machismo. Even if you don’t, you probably know what I mean: food prepared by someone who is a decent chef, but a pretty awful cook. Smears of jus and droplets of fluid gel on big white plates, but the chicken’s raw; burnt chips in a flowerpot; spun sugar on a duff dessert. Contrast this with what a good non-cheffy cook might produce: a really excellent, well seasoned, ugly stew; a pudding that tastes sublime but looks like a car crash. When I lived in Thornton le Clay near York, our pub specialised in the latter: fantastic, simple, pub food, cooked to perfection with no pretension (it's unfair on them to suggest it was ugly, but the emphasis was on flavour not prettiness). Next village we lived, the pub was very gastro, and the food – though twice the price, and served on wooden boards as likely as not – was nowhere near as good.

This, I think (bear with me!), is similar to the issue that Brian raises. In particular, the use of advanced techniques – statistical or culinary – without having mastered the basics, indeed without even considering the basics, reeks of posturing. In these cases, I agree, we should beware.

Consider for example something like Generalised Linear Mixed Effects Models (GLMMs) as a statistical equivalent of nitro-poached aperitifs or popping candy cheesecake. I am very wary of GLMMs. Ben Boelker’s TREE paper on them basically says as much: do not go here unless you really know what you’re doing. As a minimum, you ought to have mastered the basic component techniques of GLMs and LMMs (and naturally, you need to know your LMs for either of them). Yet I see students who describe themselves as ‘not very confident’ at statistics merrily fitting GLMMs with no clear idea of what model they’ve fitted, or why. Not machismo in this case, but rather blindly following a statistical recipe which demands a great deal more skill than their current aptitude allows.

So yes, in these kinds of cases – and similarly in some of the others Brian mentions – doing a simple analysis well is probably preferable to making a dogs dinner out of a complicated one.

And yet…

Let’s stretch this analogy further. If you really want perfect chips, you’ll triple cook them. Liquid nitrogen really does make excellent ice cream. The way to ensure your meat is exactly à point every time is to cook it sous vide in a water bath. Simply put: some methods of cooking are better than others, and if you can master a Blumenthal-esque skillset, the resulting food will be objectively, qualitatively superior to the lovely, hearty stuff I used to eat in my local, or that I aim to cook at home.

In the same way, some methods of statistical analysis are simply better than others. Brian’s post mentions phylogenetic correction, for example, complaining that it hardly ever affects the result of an analysis, yet entails a great deal of work and additional assumptions. Well perhaps (and his point about errors in phylogenies is a good one), and of course you can fluke the ‘correct’ result with simple statistics, just as you can fluke excellent food with a less scientific approach than that employed by the molecular gastronomists. But if you want consistent excellence – if you want to do something right – you use the best available methods.

Specifically regarding the inclusion of phylogenies in comparative analyses, it’s largely immaterial in my view whether or not this has a large effect on your results; rather it’s simply sensible to consider evolutionary processes when you're modelling a pattern which is the result of evolution. This point is nicely made in a new paper in Methods in Ecology and Evolution by Hernández et al., in which they make a plea for moving beyond phylogenies as ‘statistical fix’ (i.e., ‘phylogenetic correction’) and embracing instead a fully evolutionary view of macroecology in which we test mechanistic hypotheses rather than just describing patterns. (One could of course make a similar case for including spatial processes.)

The cooking/statistics analogy breaks down in one important aspect, however: there are very good reasons why you might not even attempt to master those fancy cooking skills. I read the Fat Duck cookbook much as I might read an account of the building of a great cathedral: full of admiration for the skill, craftmanship and effort involved, but with no intention of even attempting to replicate the endeavour. Blumethal’s Pot roast loin of pork, braised belly, gratin of truffled macaroni, for instance, includes 74 incredients, including two separate stocks (a further 24 ingredients and several hours of prep time), and requires nine separate procedures to produce a single course. You (or at least, I) would never do that to feed two at home; it is only feasible at a restaurant scale. Even those recipes that look technically manageable need expensive equipment, putting them well out the reach of the home cook, who might be better advised to concentrate on mastering more simple skills.

Developing beyond being a good ‘home statistician’ – mastering the essentials of analysis – on the other hand, requires none of this expense. Unlike haute cuisine, mastering statistics – especially in the age of R – is free. We have no excuse not to master the best available methods. So you maybe should roll up your sleeves and chase that Michelin (Fisher? Pearson? Gaussian?) Star after all. Not because you feel you have to in order to show off – I’m with Brian there – but because doing things right is important.

Sea sharing or sea sparing: How should we manage our oceans?

What with Brian Cox spending an hour explaining the importance of body size in ecological systems, and then prime time marine conservation courtesy of Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall’s ongoing Fishfight, I feel that my research interests have been rather well covered by TV of late. But whereas I have nothing but praise so far for Cox’s Wonders of Life, I find myself somewhat more ambivalent in my views of Fishfight. On the one hand, it is fantastic to see the issue of marine conservation gain such prominence. Hugh F-W is an excellent and extremely savvy campaigner, and his energy and drive to reduce the wasteful practice of discards (subject of the first Fishfight series) has had a real, positive impact at the EU level. Of course, we need to make sure that the fish now landed instead of discarded at sea actually make it to market, rather than landfill – but that’s not to take away from what Fishfight achieved. And the focus of this second series, on marine protected areas, is also a really important issue – few would argue with the central tenet that we should take better care of the marine environment, and that protecting certain areas should be a part of this. Neither am I entirely averse to using shock tactics to elicit an emotional response in the audience – indeed, I attempt just this in my marine conservation lectures here in Sheffield, where I channel Jeremy Jackson in documenting the often calamitous history of human impacts on the ocean.

On the other hand, however – and notwithstanding the considered input of scientists whom I know, like and respect such as Alex Rodgers and Callum Roberts – we need to recognise that Fishfight is a campaign, and campaigning TV by its very nature is not especially fussed about issues of balance. This is the point made by SeaFish in their response to the series. SeaFish were derided on Twitter last night by George Monbiot as an industry quango whose interest is "minimum of conservation and maximum of exploitation", but actually they are a respected body who take science pretty seriously - although as an industry body of course they consider the social and economic as well as the ecological consequences of marine environmental policy. They have been making the point that MPAs in the UK ought to be established based only on sound scientific criteria – the reason rather few have so far been agreed is that often we lack these data.

Now, I used to be of a similar view to the Fishfight gang – that the priority ought to be just establishing  MPAs, on the assumption that even if they were suboptimally positioned, any protection of any area would be better than none. Then I started talking to people who study these things and was politely told that, actually, a poorly designed MPA can actually do more harm than good. So, my view now is that MPAs need to be carefully designed, set up with specific and explicit goals, and not simply placed willy-nilly.

More generally, and as always, the truth will usually lie somewhere between environmental campaigners and industry groups. Some scientists have been quite vocal regarding the oversimplification of complex issues that is inevitable in campaigning TV. Marine conservation biologist Mike Kaiser, for example, has been quite active on Twitter putting across a fisheries science view, and I agree with this blog post by Jess Woo, that framing this campaign in terms of a ‘fight’ is unfortunate – “the last thing marine conservation (and particularly fisheries management) needs is a ruckus”.

All of which has got me thinking: what does marine conservation need? Well, some kind of clear vision would be useful, regarding how we balance the needs of conservation with feeding 9 billion people. There have been studies looking at this from a fisheries perspective, but it struck me that there are real parallels here with the land sharing vs. land sparing debate in terrestrial conservation. Should we concentrate conservation effort into the preservation of wild areas, and exploit other areas for food production as intensively as we can? Or should we aim for a more balanced approach, seeking a way to allow human activities and nature to coexist? In farming terms, this is the difference between a mosaic of industrial farms interspersed with nature reserves, and a more extensive system of wildlife-friendly farms.

The obvious upshot of this terrestrial debate is that if you want a large network of fully protected nature reserves, you have to balance that with farming the fuck out of what’s left. Translating this to a marine context, a network of no-take MPAs requires fishing the fuck out of unprotected areas. There is no real incentive for more responsible fishing outside the MPAs: the focus should just be on productivity. So the depressing images of dredged and trawled habitats that Fishfight uses to tug the heartstrings would not disappear if MPAs were widely established. In this case, you’re pinning an awful lot on not only the (widely supported) in situ success of MPAs, but also in their (often positive, but more variable) spillover effects. Responsible fishing, by contrast, requires more extensive areas to be exploited, which may limit the extent of fully protected MPAs.

More generally, whilst we should be cautious extending the fisheries—agriculture analogy too far (fishing, remember, still largely targets wild, and often highly mobile organisms), I think it does provide some useful context. Ray Hilborn, a fisheries ecologist who also happens to be a farmer, has commented on this before: how farmers are praised for bringing the landscape under the plough in order to produce food, whereas fishermen are castigated for doing similar (often in far more hazardous circumstances). Let’s just remember that (to use Oxfam’s terminology) the social foundation of access to an adequate, healthy food supply is of equal importance to the environmental ceiling of preserving biodiversity. If we get marine management right, we should be able to do both. I’m not convinced that starting a fight with some of the most important and knowledgeable marine stakeholders is the best way to achieve this.

Additional Parental Leave: Bit of a damp squib

For once I have a good excuse for not having posted recently: the birth, three weeks ago, of our daughter (Webb2.0, as I like to call her). Now you might expect this joyful event to trigger a cuddly response here, and of course I am chuffed to bits and absolutely besotted with her. However, let’s be honest here: newborn babies are just tremendously irritating. Their constant whinging, at all hours, day and night; their inability to perform even the most basic of biological tasks (the processing of milk and its subsequent disposal as solid, liquid or gas) without inordinate amounts of fuss; and their extreme sensitivity to the slightest suggestion that you’d like them to switch from being cuddled, to lying in their bed – all of these engender a certain grumpiness in this father. So, rather than a Clinton Cards-style paean to the wonders of new life, I am going to have a moan instead. And this particular moan is about how, despite recent developments, we still can’t seem to get parental leave right in this country.

OK, so here’s how parental leave worked when our son was born back in 2010. I got 2 weeks on full pay. The Mississippi^* got a choice: 18 weeks full pay, followed by 21 weeks on statutory maternity pay (SMP, about £135 a week), for a total of 39 weeks; or 12 weeks full pay followed by 12 weeks on half pay, followed by 21 weeks on SMP (45 weeks total). Both options can be extended to 52 weeks using unpaid leave. (See here for full details of my University's policy).

Now this system is fine, quite generous even, but it really accentuates differences between mums and dads, and (especially when you are at similar career stages) this certainly contributes towards the gender gap in scientific careers. In an effort to allow for a more equitable division of parental duties, the government has more recently introduced a system of additional parental leave, which (in theory) allows the leave to be shared between the parents, with up to 26 weeks available for dad.

Great, we thought, and started hatching a plan based on something like: I could take (say) 8 weeks of APL, as 2 days a week spread over 20 weeks. This would mean I could be at home for Thursdays and Fridays, when #1 is not at nursery; we could spend some time together as a family and support each other.

But, having eventually made some sense of the various documents, we realised that sadly the system is not this flexible. Or rather, not at all flexible. In fact when you look into the details this new system starts to look less and less attractive, particularly from a dad’s point of view (and especially if dad’s income is ≥ mum’s). First, you (dad) cannot take any of your APL in the first 20 weeks (when, you know, a bit of extra support might be useful). You cannot take any until mum returns to work (so no chance to spend some extra time together as a family). And you have to take it as a solid block (no chance to spend a couple of days at home every week, then).

Importantly too, as a couple there is absolutely no extra money – any time that you take as a dad will only be paid when it falls within the 39 weeks, after that you’re on unpaid leave. And even within the 39 weeks, you’ll only be on SMP. So if you, as a dad, are the higher earner as a couple you’ll be materially worse off by taking advantage of APL, compared to mum taking all the available leave. It seems to me to be a system designed without consulting those who want to use it. And I honestly can’t see it encouraging many more dads to take more than their statutory two weeks, which surely was the intention.

There are encouraging signs that further refinement of this policy is planned – or at least, Nick Clegg has made encouraging noises about this. Remember those halcyon days of ‘I agree with Nick’? Well, here, I do:

From 2015, the UK will shift to an entirely new system of flexible parental leave. Under the new rules, a mother will be able to trigger flexible leave at any point – if and when she feels ready. That means that whatever time is left to run on her original year can be taken by her partner instead. Or they can chop up the remaining time between them – taking it in turns. Or they can take time off together – whatever suits them. The only rule is that no more than 12 months can be taken in total; with no more than 9 months at guaranteed pay. And, of course, couples will need to be open with their employers, giving them proper notice.

All this is too late for me, of course (no chance of Webb3.0, baring a catastrophic accident…), but it seems obvious to me that this is what we should do. We need to throw additional money at parental leave, and trust parents to sensibly and flexibly apportion this between themselves, over the entire course of the period covered. I am convinced this will pay for itself by helping both men and women to balance family and work commitments more effectively. Comprehensive childcare would help too – in my institution, we rely on the Students’ Union to run the (excellent, oversubscribed) nursery, with rather little interest or support from central University. I would love to see universities more generally take the lead in providing subsidised childcare for all staff and students who need it.

But for now, I am conducting a controlled experiment to test my hypothesis that ‘part time academic’ really is an oxymoron.

^*For some time I’ve been in a quandary as to what to call my partner (we’re not married), as ‘partner’ sounds too formal, ‘girlfriend’ too frivolous, and other alternatives too icky (‘other half’? Nah) or not entirely PC (the Profanisaurus’s ‘bag for life’…). So I settled on ‘the missus’ as light-heartedly affectionate and ironic – promptly autocorrected by my phone to ‘the Mississippi’, which I rather like…

A note on the title: I was sorely tempted to write ‘damp squid’ (which I’ve seen used more than once in print) as it’s such a lovely image; being a stickler for making sense though decided to stick with the correct version…