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Systematics and Taxonomy (S&TC Reports)

In introducing this debate, I pay tribute to those who prepared and published two previous reports on relevant and related matters: the late Lord Dainton, whose report was published in 1992, and the noble Baroness, Lady Walmsley, happily a member of this committee and still with us, whose report was published in 2002. It is on those foundations that the present report was built, and they were the benchmarks by which we measured progress, or the lack of it, in government and public sector responses. I am also deeply indebted to the superb team of committee members, the committee secretariat and our special scientific adviser, Professor Geoff Boxshall from the Natural History Museum. Let us begin at the beginning, with definitions. The opening paragraph of the report says: ""Taxonomy is the scientific discipline of describing, delimiting and naming organisms, both living and fossil, and systematics is the process of organising taxonomic information about organisms into a logical classification that provides the framework for all comparative studies"." If I was in any doubt about the need to restate these definitions clearly, the Word package on my computer prompted me to do so by indicating that it regarded the word "systematics" as of dubious provenance. The next question that the report addresses is why these skills are important. Consider the case of Charles Darwin, whose 150th anniversary is, as we all know, being widely and royally celebrated this year. Question: what do Charles Darwin and Andy Capp have in common? Answer: a fascination with pigeons. For Andy Capp the fascination had to do with their racing capacities. In fact, had they been contemporaries, they might well have met, for Darwin tells us that, ""I have associated with several eminent fanciers, and have been permitted to join two of the London Pigeon Clubs"." There is a thought to tempt the imagination—a meeting between Darwin and Andy Capp. I wonder how David Attenborough would have handled that one. To return to the original point, Darwin tells us in the first chapter of The Origin of Species that it is always best to study some special group. His chosen example, "after deliberation", was domestic pigeons. One might even say that the mighty edifice that we have come to know variously as "natural selection" or "evolution" was based initially on a minute and detailed study of what we all see daily in Trafalgar Square. But, of course, the difference is between how we see and how Darwin sees. We see grey, sometimes intrusive birds whose aerial gifts are to be avoided. Darwin saw and was "astonished" by the variety of breeds—the carrier, the short-faced tumbler, the common tumbler, the runt, the barb, the pouter, the turbit, the Jacobin, the trumpeter, the laugher, the fantail, not to mention, ""several other less distinct breeds (which) might be specified"." He goes on to say that, ""at least a score of pigeons might be chosen, which, if shown to an ornithologist … would certainly be ranked by him as well-defined species"," but not, he adds, as "the same genus". And so, in nine beautifully lucid pages in the opening chapter of his great book, Darwin distinguishes his interest in pigeons from those of Andy Capp and the tourists in Trafalgar Square. How does he do this? He sees in a different way. He provides detailed observations. He describes some experiments in breeding. He marshals his evidence. He offers a hypothesis or two. He even explains where his opponents go wrong. And so, monumentally, he begins to build the intellectual edifice which changed our understanding of the world in which we live. The Andy Capps of this world focus on details relevant only to the dual primary purpose which he saw of pigeons—speed and endurance. Darwin comments that, ""they win their prizes by selecting such slight differences, yet they ignore all the general arguments, and refuse to sum up in their minds slight differences accumulated during many successive generations"." So I ask again, why are taxonomy and systematics so important? I have given one example already. One answer is that they lie at the very foundation of our understanding of the natural world, and not only because Charles Darwin shows us that in a most spectacular fashion. For even if, per improbabile—to invent a Latin phrase—he were wrong, it would require a similarly rich cocktail of observation, experiment, analysis, hypothesis and evidence-based conclusions even to begin the argument with him. I am tempted to add, "Fundamentalists please take note", but that belongs to a different debate. A rather different answer to the question of importance lies in a concept which we have all learned to use with respect—biodiversity. We have come to understand more fully the importance of the variety to be found in the natural world and the complex interrelations within that variety. I recently read with delight of the fact that Scotland—it was not because it was Scotland; it was just a good example I happened to have to hand—has amazing biodiversity: 10 species of reptiles and amphibians; 63 species of mammals; 242 species of birds; 240 species of fish; 20,000 species of plants and fungi; 24,800 species of invertebrates; and, at an estimate, 40,000 species of virus bacteria and protozoa. I dare say some noble Lords in this Room could correct me on the specific numbers, but I was simply staggered and amazed. How do we know this? Because we have in our society the skills and techniques of taxonomy and systematics. Of course, a fundamental and important question follows: does it matter that we know this? The answer is a resounding yes, for many reasons. The big reason is that changes in biodiversity can be either consequences or harbingers of climate change. Equally important, therefore, is to enhance even further our ability to measure changes in biodiversity, and that requires the skills of taxonomy and systematics. The implications of these measurements for food supply and safety are central to our capacity as a race, let alone as a society, to prepare for that change. The absence of bees and butterflies, of which we heard something last summer and the summer before it, will affect my crops of fruit and vegetables, but their continued presence has much greater significance than that—ultimately, the capacity of the human race to feed itself. If changes in biodiversity have such potential gravity, the importance of the study of taxonomy and systematics is beyond question. For coherent thought and therefore policy preparedness in such matters, the measurement and analysis of change in the biodiversity of our community is essential. For that, we need taxonomists and practitioners of systematic biology. I began by setting out the social and economic reasons for the importance of these disciplines, because I realise that I am in a political context and utilitarian arguments are important. The disciplines are essential for our survival as a human race. Other important arguments will be elaborated by my colleagues who speak after me. I shall briefly mention just two by way of an amuse-bouche for the wider discussion that will follow. First, sheer intellectual curiosity about the natural world is of value in itself. From a utilitarian point of view, that almost always has to be the forerunner of the technologies and understandings which change our society for the better. Sheer intellectual curiosity is a driving point. The pursuit of such curiosity must be based, as it was in Darwin’s case, on observation, experiment, analysis and evidence-based argument, and on learning to see as a taxonomist and as a systematician. It must be based on taxonomy and systematics. I advance a further argument. In this country, due in part to our adventurous history during the past 200 or 300 years, we have three of the most important, relevant collections in the world: in the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew, in the Natural History Museum and in the Royal Botanic Garden in Edinburgh. These collections must be curated, maintained and expanded; we have an intellectual as well as a moral responsibility to do so. Other societies, some of which were once our colonies, are often the source of these collections. They will want to use them as reference points for understanding changes in their own regional biodiversity. Whether we like it or not, we are the curators; we are responsible for the maintenance and expansion of those collections. I have given two examples—there are many others—of why the disciplines are important. I turn briefly to how we assess government awareness and policy in these matters. First, I acknowledge and thank the Government, whose response indicates acceptance of a number of our central recommendations. There has been significant progress following the reports of 1992 and 2002, and the signs are that, with the help of our continued prompting—and that is a manifesto of the Science and Technology Committee—there will be further progress from 2009. I shall give some examples of acceptances and moving forward. NERC will commission a study which will deal, I hope, with our concerns about numbers of future scientists in this area—so there will be hard evidence. NERC and the Natural History Museum have agreed to study further the national priorities that we should formulate in this area. BBSRC and NERC will provide funds for the development of a road map for delivery of internet-based taxonomy. I am happy to say on a very specific point that our pleas concerning the needs of the fungal reference collection at Kew have been heard and, in part, answered. There are a number of further positive responses that will doubtless be discussed by my colleagues, one of which I will mention because I am particularly pleased by it. In their response, the Government imply an understanding of the importance of biodiversity-related topics in schools. However, lest the Minister believe that he can now relax, I reassure him that there is a "can-do-better" coda to this report, and doubtless we will hear much of that in the debate that follows. I highlight two examples to which, for various reasons, I attach particular importance in that regard. The first is the rejection of our recommendation that there should be a lead department in this area. We thought hard about that, and we had many arguments for and against. We came to the conclusion that a lead department would enhance our capacity significantly in important respects. The policy needs in this area are great. Significant developments of policy will be required whether we, or the Government, like it or not. Their commitment to one of their central focuses being climate change indicates that, for the reasons I have already given, a lead needs to be taken, rather than things falling between the cracks. That is at the core of our recommendation and our disappointment that it has not been accepted. We see that there are dangers to our traditional strengths in the supply of sufficient numbers of well trained people in these fields. My second example also perhaps relates to the need for a lead department. We noted that the notion of co-ordination, or joined-up government, as it was once called, was not being fully exercised. A good example is an apparent failure on the part of the government response properly to consult the regime in Scotland. The evidence for that is a short and rather pathetic paragraph—I speak now as a Scot—that apparently summarises its response to what we believe is quite a significant report. That is underlined by the fact that one of the three great national collections is in Edinburgh, and therefore significantly the responsibility of the current Scottish Parliament. There was a lack of joined-upness there, which was a pity. I hope that we can do better next time. I look forward to the contributions that are to come, including the Minister’s response. I beg to move.