Part the First: A Day in the Life of the Working Class

When members of the Professional Managerial Class discuss the working class, it’s often clear they lack a genuine understanding of their experiences. This insight might only be surprising to them. Although I am currently aligned with the PMC, I spent considerable time after high school working in a heavy chemical plant. There, the highest union wage—adjusted for inflation—hovered around $180,000 a year. That facility has since closed, leaving behind a significant Superfund site, but the lessons I learned from my coworkers, all men at that time, remain valuable.

Take Joseph Palange, for instance, a firefighter and concrete worker. His experience epitomizes a vital lesson about workers on construction sites or in manufacturing plants. Early in my career, I quickly learned to recognize “coworkers” like him: individuals who dedicated more time and effort to evading work rather than performing it. For example, I worked alongside such a colleague during my teenage years, learning to ignore him until urgent tasks demanded his attention. This particular individual had an uncanny ability to stretch our thirty-minute lunch break into an hour without fail. He would make personal calls at 12:30, suggest a trip to the supply shop at 11:30, linger at the tool trailer at 11:40, only to disappear entirely—or feign negligence over lost time. His apparent carelessness was a calculated risk, as getting caught by the boss would forfeit his alibis. It was clear: he couldn’t repeatedly be ‘accidentally’ late if the superintendent showed up unexpectedly.

Unfortunately, working with such people required constant management of their expectations, as they seldom wished to engage with the demands of the job. His reluctance meant he often resisted essential directives—all of which were, quite simply, non-negotiable. I had been warned, “You can’t let Tommy Keough steer the ship.” Each detail of our tasks felt like an extraordinary burden to him. It was reminiscent of asking someone to pick you up from the airport ten times a day. He frequently complained about my decisions and insinuated that I lacked competence. Nonetheless, amid all the bluster, he approached the work with a smile. I grew fond of him. When faced with pressing deadlines and the weight of responsibility, Tommy always rose to the occasion. Over the years, amidst the materials we worked with—2x4s, whaler loops, turnbuckles, and magical hydraulic cement—I came to understand the man behind the facade.

Ultimately, the only distinction between Tommy Keough and similar personalities I have encountered throughout my career is that Tommy could be counted on when it truly mattered. This leads to a thought echoed by Mr. Palange:

I hold no ill feelings toward populists from either political party who idealize the working class. It’s likely that Steve Bannon has never found himself alone, digging ditches while the expected helpers are preoccupied. Similarly, I doubt Bernie Sanders has ever waited in vain for a new hire to turn up for their second day of work. While I don’t expect the elites to fully grasp it, I simply wish they wouldn’t oversimplify the complexities of the working class to fit their political narratives. The issues are not straightforward, and solutions are not readily apparent. You cannot just open a sufficient number of mills and mines to counteract humanity’s inherent flaws; sometimes, it is those flawed individuals who step up to the challenge.

Perhaps, as the impending AI revolution threatens PMC employment across various sectors, those with firsthand experience in tasks like pouring concrete, cleaning oil tanks, or balancing the 92-pound flasks of mercury will once again find themselves sought after. And, who knows? That might not be the worst outcome.

Part the Second: Is There Any Hope Humans Will Grasp Climate Change?

A close friend once told me he does not “believe in” anthropogenic global warming (AGW), asserting that humanity cannot impact something as vast as the climate. I’ve pointed to the Montreal Protocol and the progress made against the ozone hole, yet he remains unconvinced. The sheer scale of the climate challenge can be daunting for many.

Philosopher Timothy Morton from Rice University has coined the term “hyperobject” to describe phenomena so enormous that they elude human comprehension. While I sometimes struggle to grasp his ideas, I find this concept relatable for the most part.

A recent article from the McGill Office for Science and Society poses an intriguing question: How can we make climate change resonate within the human mind? It’s a pressing concern:

While climate change alarms ring louder across the globe, many seem to have grown desensitized to their urgency. Experts find themselves in an ironic predicament: they can predict severe consequences for our planet, yet many people’s eyes glaze over at the resulting headlines. We scroll past news of devastating wildfires and entire towns laid to waste, unfazed by the increasing death toll from heat waves.

What is the root of this climate apathy? Researchers have attempted to answer this while relying on structured experiments. One of the most promising findings suggests that the manner in which we present alarming data can make a significant difference. Humans tend to be focused on “the urgency of now”—basic needs like food and shelter. Climate change often feels like a “tomorrow problem.” Absolutely true—until it suddenly isn’t. It’s difficult to ignore the increasingly frequent and severe weather events, such as wildfires and floods that occur “once a century” every few years.

Moreover, climate change is an abstract issue. A predator can be seen and evaded; it can be fought off. However, climate change is invisible, manifesting in isolated events—a wildfire here, a tsunami there—making it challenging to attribute cause. Yes, wildfires and destructive waves have always existed, but the intensity, frequency, and geographical range of these disasters are changing. These shifts may not register in our mind.

A disheartening essay from 1995 elucidates this using the example of fish populations. Over an extended period, declines in numbers and diversity may go unnoticed by fishermen, even if the state of the ecosystem deteriorates significantly. For those new to fishing, a diminished fish population simply becomes their baseline. They don’t know what the lake looked like fifty years ago.

This phenomenon is termed “shifting baselines syndrome.” The initial experience within an ecosystem sets an individual’s understanding of what is “normal.” If changes happen gradually, they are often perceived as normal. David Roberts summarized it aptly for Vox: “No generation experiences the totality of the loss.” What we now regard as significant air pollution due to wildfires is unprecedented for us. For new generations, it is merely expected. Gradually, humanity adapts to worsening conditions without perceiving the full extent of the change. We resemble boiling frogs in slowly warming water.

Is this purely a matter of human perception? Undeniably. Yet there are ways to enhance our perception. In my professional experience, when I see data presented in a table, alarm bells ring: What are they trying to conceal? Unless there’s a clear dose-response curve or similar array, the human mind struggles to register nuances, as illustrated here:

It’s alarmingly obvious that the lake ceased freezing almost annually between 1990 and 2000. This is no longer just incidental weather variation post-2000. Only the most oblivious would contest the cause behind this phenomenon. The tobacco industry, for over two decades, denied the evident truth that smoking leads to lung cancer, despite proof from the British Doctor’s Study. While not every lung cancer patient was a smoker, a staggering 90% of those diagnosed were either current or former smokers. Correlation does not equate to causation, yet smoking populations were disproportionately affected. We now understand the mechanism behind this health crisis; similarly, anthropogenic global warming arises from releasing carbon sequestered over millions of years into the atmosphere.

Part the Third: Amyloid Hypothesis of Alzheimer’s Disease in the News

Fairness dictates that the former president of Stanford deserves the chance to defend himself. We’ve previously discussed the amyloid hypothesis and the associated research challenges regarding Alzheimer’s Disease. Recently, Marc Tessier-Lavigne, an Alzheimer’s researcher and former Stanford president, has found himself in the spotlight for his past work. He resigned three years ago due to concerns over research conducted under his leadership since 2009.

In an article by STAT News, Dr. Tessier-Lavigne contests findings that originated in reports by Stanford student Theo Baker. Baker’s investigative journalism detailed discrepancies in several studies co-authored by Tessier-Lavigne, some of which included manipulated images. His work prompted Stanford’s board to engage a law firm and external scientists for further scrutiny, along with an internal review by Genentech.

Although neither investigation found evidence of research misconduct or fraud, the Stanford report confirmed that at least four of Tessier-Lavigne’s studies contained altered results. It also noted his failure to “decisively and forthrightly” correct these errors. Tessier-Lavigne resigned the same day the report was released, citing the need to maintain his leadership credibility.

This tumultuous investigation has sparked ongoing debates about elite scientific practices. Just last year, Donald Trump’s science adviser referenced Tessier-Lavigne’s case and the 2009 study as an illustration of how academic integrity has eroded over time.

Did the “invisible college” of Alzheimer’s researchers harbor concerns about Tessier-Lavigne’s work? Based on my lengthy scientific career since the mid-1970s, I suspect they did. Remarkably, Tessier-Lavigne echoed this sentiment:

While the Stanford investigation concluded the fraud allegations appeared to be misinformed, it did reveal image duplications and statistical errors in the Nature paper. The quality of the work fell short of accepted scientific standards, as well as the high benchmarks set by Dr. Tessier-Lavigne himself. He agreed with the finding that instead of correcting or retracting the original paper, he opted to publish additional studies—a choice deemed “suboptimal” by the panel.

Reflecting on the situation, he stated, “I believe the Alzheimer’s community and the developmental neurobiology communities were aware of the corrections I made in follow-up papers. However, it would have been beneficial to more general audiences to include a correction with the original article. In hindsight, I wish I had.”

Why did this occur? While it may sound repetitive, I maintain that American biomedical science shifted dramatically following the passage of the Bayh-Dole Act in 1980. Following that, the priorities of academic science became less about making genuine discoveries and more about cashing in quickly. This trend has given the Current Administration another excuse to advocate for “gold-standard science,” but the prospects for American science recovery remain grim.

Parting Shot

I apologize for this somewhat condensed edition of the Coffee Break, but life has a way of intervening. Here’s a pertinent story from STAT that captures our current predicament. A mother of a daughter with cystic fibrosis weighed in on new policies that might overshadow American science, potentially impacting future advancements that all of us might depend on. Her remark was removed because she referenced how the daughter of the Director of the Office of Management and Budget benefited from the same drug regimen:

Federal agencies hold discretion regarding which comments are published on regulations.gov, the public site for proposing regulations. Typically, comments are not posted if they’re irrelevant, contain offensive content, or disclose classified information. This process generally occurs before publication.

However, it is well-known that Vought’s child suffers from cystic fibrosis and has thrived on Trikafta. In 2014, both Vought and his wife publicly shared their daughter’s diagnosis through a conservative news platform, expressing their heartfelt empathy for affected families. Mary Vought later mentioned on a podcast that her child had been on the breakthrough medication for several months, suggesting considerable hope for her daughter’s recovery.

“It’s odd because there are no legal repercussions for those comments being removed,” noted Stuart Shapiro, dean of the Rutgers School of Planning and Public Policy. “There’s no rationale for it unless it was deemed inappropriate by the head of OMB.” Despite this, some comments regarding Vought and Trikafta remain on the docket.

And so it continues. Thank you for reading! I’ll see you next week as we transition into September and the conclusion of a long hot summer in the Northern Hemisphere. Remember—no white shoes after Labor Day, as my grandmother, born in 1910 and a master of style, always advised.

Part the Fourth

This morning, I received an intriguing account: a British cardiologist and his wife accepted £50 million from a pharmaceutical company for endorsing their drug. This raises questions about trust in the medical and scientific communities:

A British cardiologist, formerly the president of the European Society of Cardiology (ESC), was found to have committed significant misconduct after a Danish television documentary reported his involvement in developing guidelines for the heart medication ivabradine. Between 2006 and 2015, Kim Fox, a professor at the National Heart and Lung Institute, along with his wife Karen Summers, received over £50 million as co-directors of a UK-based clinical trial firm involved in ivabradine studies.

This situation recalls the case of the late conservative icon Sir Roger Scruton, who was likewise entangled with Big Tobacco. The issue is maddening.