Conflict with humans is one of the primary reasons why large carnivore populations are declining worldwide. Rates of human‐carnivore conflict ( HCC ) are particularly high in East Africa, where human settlements tend to surround protected areas, maximizing potential for human‐carnivore interactions. Despite extensive HCC research in this region, HCC persists and carnivore populations continue to decline. Evident disconnects between HCC research and conservation action, management practices and policy formation have been cited as mechanisms associated with these trends. We conducted a literature review to determine the extent to which HCC research in East Africa is actionable within the context of management and policy formation. We evaluated 36 papers for co‐production, interdisciplinary collaboration, applied or theoretical publication and stakeholder engagement. Many were published by co‐authors in academia (63.8%) and collaborative efforts between academics and non‐governmental organizations (25.0%), with limited representation outside these sectors. Collaboration with disciplines outside the natural sciences, specifically the social and political sciences (both 2.8%), was also uncommon although humans were the primary topic of study in 28% of papers. Moreover, while many papers were published in applied journals (86%), few explicitly stated policy and management objectives. Stakeholder engagement was mostly in the form of surveys and questionnaires rather than direct involvement in the research process. Our review indicates that HCC research currently lacks strong evidence of actionability and we provide recommendations for improving the practical salience of conservation research.

Margaret DeLacy. The Germ of an Idea: Contagionism, Religion, and Society in Britain, 1660-1730 Margaret DeLacy. The Germ of an Idea: Contagionism, Religion, and Society in Britain, 1660–1730. London, Palgrave Macmillan, 2016. xviii, 305 pp. John Waller John Waller Associate Professor of the History of Medicine, College of Social Science, Michigan State University, East Lansing, Michigan, 48824 Email: wallerj1@msu.edu Search for other works by this author on: Oxford Academic PubMed Google Scholar Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences, Volume 73, Issue 3, July 2018, Pages 362–364, https://doi.org/10.1093/jhmas/jrx052 Published: 16 October 2017

The idea of heredity—that qualities of body and mind are somehow inherited from one’s parents—has profoundly shaped many aspects of the human experience: from our attempts to understand variation in personality and intelligence, to popular attitudes about gender, race, and social hierarchy, to the methods employed to increase crop yields and the value of horses and cattle. Heredity: A Very Short Introduction traces both the technical study of biological inheritance and the ideological use of the concept of heredity from antiquity into a modern age of molecular biology in which a brave new prospect is emerging: the capacity to manipulate the human genome itself.

Pediatric Blood & CancerVolume 61, Issue 5 p. 765-767 Commentary A diffuse intrinsic pontine glioma roadmap: Guiding research toward a cure Sandra E. Smith, Sandra E. Smith Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorJohn C. Waller, John C. Waller Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorIsaiah A. Bingham, Isaiah A. Bingham Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorDanah M. Jewett, Danah M. Jewett Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorM. Simone Nsouli, M. Simone Nsouli Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorJohn J. Mackintosh, Corresponding Author John J. Mackintosh Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239 Correspondence to: John J. Mackintosh, 12 Highland Meadow Drive, North Attleboro, MA 02760. E-mail: [email protected]Search for more papers by this author Sandra E. Smith, Sandra E. Smith Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorJohn C. Waller, John C. Waller Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorIsaiah A. Bingham, Isaiah A. Bingham Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorDanah M. Jewett, Danah M. Jewett Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorM. Simone Nsouli, M. Simone Nsouli Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239Search for more papers by this authorJohn J. Mackintosh, Corresponding Author John J. Mackintosh Parent and patient advocates. 2012 Participants of the Pediatric Cancer Nanocourse, Pediatric Cancer Biology Program, Department of Pediatrics, Papé Family Pediatric Research Institute, Oregon Health & Science University, Portland, Oregon, 97239 Correspondence to: John J. Mackintosh, 12 Highland Meadow Drive, North Attleboro, MA 02760. E-mail: [email protected]Search for more papers by this author First published: 30 January 2014 https://doi.org/10.1002/pbc.24923Citations: 3Read the full textAboutPDF ToolsRequest permissionExport citationAdd to favoritesTrack citation ShareShare Give accessShare full text accessShare full-text accessPlease review our Terms and Conditions of Use and check box below to share full-text version of article.I have read and accept the Wiley Online Library Terms and Conditions of UseShareable LinkUse the link below to share a full-text version of this article with your friends and colleagues. Learn more.Copy URL Share a linkShare onFacebookTwitterLinkedInRedditWechat Citing Literature Volume61, Issue5May 2014Pages 765-767 RelatedInformation

This book provides a comprehensive description of what being sick and receiving “medical care” was like in 19th-century America, allowing modern readers to truly appreciate the scale of the improvements in healthcare theory and practice. Health and Wellness in 19th-Century America covers a period of dramatic change in the United States by examining our changing understanding of the nature of the disease burden, the increasing size of the nation, and our conceptions of sickness and health. With topics ranging from the unsanitary tenements of New York’s Five Points, the field hospitals of the Civil War, and to the laboratories of Johns Hopkins Medical School, author John C. Waller reveals a complex picture of tradition, discovery, innovation, and occasional spectacular success. This book draws upon an extensive literature to document sickness and wellness in environments like rural homesteads, urban East-coast slums, and the hastily built cities of the West. It provides a fascinating historical examination of a century in which Americans made giant strides in understanding disease yet also clung to traditional methods and ideas, charting how U.S. medical science gradually transformed from being a backwater to a world leader in the field.

A silk cross-stitched man's overcoat in traditional Uzbek style in the Indianapolis Museum of Art was thought to originate from late 1800s to early 1900s. To shed light on its history and associated textile dye chemistry, threads from the coat were subjected to dye analysis by LC-DAD-ESI-MS. Dyes identified include seventeen natural colorants from barberry, larkspur, madder and cochineal, and forty-two synthetic compounds in the diazo, xanthene, and triarylmethine class. Many of the synthetic dyes were heterogeneous, attributable either to crudeness in synthetic process or to age related degradation. The different shades of red and green in the threads were obtained from blending two or three synthetic dyes as well as, in one case, the combination of natural and synthetic components. Direct Red 23, C.I. 29160, first reported in 1900, was the most recent, thus refining the creation date of the garment to the early twentieth century or later.

In this passage, the primary stirp is the stirp of a zygote immediately after it has been fertilized and the secondary stirps of monozygotic twins are their stirps immediately after the zygote has divided into two. Galton explains the similarities of three classes of twins as follows. (i) Monozygotic twins who divided shortly after conception are very similar because they have very similar secondary stirps derived from the division of the same primary stirp, and these secondary stirps develop in very similar conditions. (ii) Dizygotic twins and siblings are moderately similar because they are derived from very similar primary stirps, which develop under somewhat similar conditions. No prediction is made about the degree of similarity. (iii) Monozygotic twins who divided a considerable time after conception are very dissimilar because the primary stirp, which divides into two, has been organized into contrasting halves. Galton could not in 1875 have invented the classical twin method based on this non-Mendelian theory of heredity. What he did was to track the life-history changes of twins to see whether twins who were very similar at birth diverged in later life or whether twins who were very dissimilar at birth converged later, as a test of the relative importance of nature and nurture. The classical twin method of comparing the similarities of monozygotic and dizygotic twins on Mendelian assumptions was first used in the 1920s.

Cholera: The Biography is one of the several biographies of disease recently published as part of an Oxford University Press series aimed at a broader audience. Christopher Hamlin was the obvious choice as the author of this volume: it is hard to think of any living historian better-versed in the intellectual and social contexts in which cholera has robbed so many millions of lives. Hamlin divides this exceptionally learned and broad-ranging book into six sections. Section one examines the ways in which European physicians tried to distinguish between the old non-epidemic form of cholera and what they came to call epidemic 'Asiatic' cholera. Hamlin argues that the evidence for a Bengali origin for cholera, based as it is largely on nineteenth-century medical accounts which were steeped in views of India as mired in filth and native misery, is actually quite flimsy. Section two focuses on the cultural response to cholera: the intertwining of ideas about and responses to the disease with prevailing religious and moral sensibilities. Section three examines the systematic responses elicited by later epidemics. Hamlin explores the complex links between medical reactions to cholera and the different kinds of nineteenth-century state: from autocratic Russia to liberal England. Each nation, Hamlin shows, had its own protocols and prejudices. The typically vigilant response of South American port cities, for instance, contrasted sharply with the British resistance to quarantine measures which might slow the speed at which goods and troops travelled from and to imperial India. Section four examines the confusions about the nature, cause and optimal responses to a disease which defied a straightforward explanation, even after the bacteriological investigations of Robert Koch and his team. Hamlin neatly delineates the rival positions of contagionists and different varieties of anti-contagionists. He shows in fascinating detail the irresistible urge of cholera authors to extrapolate from partial findings and to doggedly marshal data friendly to their cause. Hamlin also usefully emphasises the historical importance of this willingness to focus on a sub-set of empirical observations: the successes of both John Snow and Koch relied on a certain degree of tunnel vision. The fifth section charts the way in which laboratory science boiled cholera down to genes and proteins acting in extraordinarily complex ways. Finally the last chapter looks at recent epidemics.

On Christmas Eve in 1021, 18 people gathered outside a church in the German town of Kölbigk and danced with wild abandon. The priest, unable to perform Mass because of the irreverent din from outside, ordered them to stop. Ignoring him, they held hands and danced a "ring dance of sin", clapping, leaping, and chanting in unison. The enraged priest, recorded a local chronicler, cursed them to dance for an entire year as a punishment for their outrageous levity. It worked. Not until the following Christmas did the dancers regain control of their limbs. Exhausted and repentant, they fell into a deep sleep. Some of them never awoke. It might seem improbable to us, but there was nothing in this story that mediaeval people found hard to believe. Compulsive dancing joined that litany of natural and human disasters to be explained in terms of celestial or supernatural forces. But even if much of the chronicler's account is clearly the stuff of legend, we should not dismiss it as purely invention. Plenty of sources indicate that this obscure chronicler may have embellished a real event. The Kölbigk incident is a contender for the first of the dancing plagues. Later chronicles speak of a bout of unstoppable, and sometimes fatal, dancing in the German town of Erfurt in 1247. Shortly after, 200 people are said to have danced impiously on a bridge over the Moselle River in Maastricht until it collapsed, drowning them all. Likewise, dozens of mediaeval authors recount the terrible compulsion to dance that, in 1374, swept across western Germany, the Low Countries, and northeastern France. Chronicles agree that thousands of people danced in agony for days or weeks, screaming of terrible visions and imploring priests and monks to save their souls. A few decades later, the abbot of a monastery near the city of Trier recalled "an amazing epidemic" in which a collection of hallucinating dancers hopped and leapt for as long as 6 months, some of them dying after breaking "ribs or loins". On a far larger scale was the outbreak that struck the city of Strasbourg in 1518, consuming as many as 400 people. One chronicle states that it claimed, for a brief period at least, about 15 lives a day as men, women, and children danced in the punishing summer heat. There were also several isolated cases during the 1500s and 1600s, from Switzerland and the Holy Roman Empire, of the mania gripping an individual or entire family. The dancing plagues are little remembered today, in part because they seem so unbelievable. But while the incidents at Kölbigk, Erfurt, and Maastricht might be apocryphal, there is no question that the 1374 and 1518 epidemics occurred. Dozens of reliable chronicles from several towns and cities describe the events of 1374. And the course of the 1518 epidemic can be minutely detailed with the help of municipal orders, sermons, and vivid descriptions left behind by the brilliant Renaissance physician, Paracelsus. These outbreaks represent a real and fascinating enigma. On one thing contemporary and modern writers have agreed: those who danced did so involuntarily. They writhed in pain, screamed for help, and begged for mercy. So what could have impelled them to dance against their will? One theory is that they had ingested ergot, a mould that grew on stalks of ripening rye and can cause hallucinations, spasms, and tremors. Epidemics of ergotism certainly occurred in mediaeval Europe when people ate contaminated flour. But this theory does not seem tenable, since it is unlikely that those poisoned by ergot could have danced for days at a time. Nor would so many people have reacted to its psychotropic chemicals in the same way. The ergotism theory also fails to explain why virtually every outbreak occurred somewhere along the Rhine and Moselle Rivers, areas linked by water but with quite different climates and crops. We do know, however, that the victims of dancing epidemics were experiencing altered states of consciousness. This is indicated by their extraordinary levels of endurance. In a trance state, they would have been far less conscious of their physical exhaustion and the pain of sore, swollen, and lacerated feet. Onlookers in 1374 also spoke of the afflicted as wild, frenzied, and seeing visions; the dancers yelled out the names of devils, had strange aversions to pointed shoes and the colour red, and said they were drowning in "a red sea of blood". There is even a drawing of 1564 by Pieter Bruegel the Elder showing a group of women dancing uncontrollably, all of them wearing the distant, distracted, and divorced-from-reality expressions of the deeply entranced. High levels of psychological distress significantly increase the likelihood of an individual succumbing to an involuntary trance state. It is unlikely to be a coincidence, therefore, that the 1374 dancing plague spread in the areas most savagely hit earlier in the year by the most devastating deluge of the 14th century. The people of Strasbourg and its environs were similarly experiencing acute distress in 1518, after a succession of appalling harvests, the highest grain prices for over a generation, the advent of syphilis, and the recurrence of such old killers as leprosy and the plague. Even by the gruelling standards of the Middle Ages, these were bitterly harsh years for the people of Alsace. But if despair created the right conditions for an extreme psychological reaction, this does not explain why so many danced in their misery. Why did they not sob, scream, riot, fight, or fall into a sullen silence? This is where anthropological field studies prove to be invaluable. Accounts of "possession rituals" from the Arctic and Andes to the Kalahari and Caribbean show that people are more likely to enter the trance state if they expect it to happen and that entranced participants behave in a ritualistic manner, their thoughts and motions shaped by the spiritual beliefs of their cultures. Female mediums in Madagascar, for instance, take on the distinct personas of the spirits believed to inhabit them. Similarly, the participants in Vodou rituals adopt the roles of specific deities drawn from a pantheon of gods with varying personalities. Were there, then, belief systems in the regions affected by the dancing plague that could have channelled widespread despair into an irresistible urge to dance? A variety of sources, from altar paintings to chronicles and law books, show that a dread of this punitive affliction formed part of the collective consciousness of the people of the Rhine and Moselle valleys. Those living near these mighty commercial waterways shared a profound fear of wrathful spirits able to inflict a dancing curse. And it is in this region alone, close to the western fringe of the Holy Roman Empire, that confirmed epidemics of dancing occurred. Moreover, these outbreaks nearly always struck in or close to cities affected by earlier dancing epidemics. In short, the epidemiological picture is strikingly consistent with a form of cultural contagion. Only where there was a pre-existing belief in a dancing curse could psychological distress be converted into the form of a frantic dance. Every so often, when physical and mental distress rendered people more than usually suggestible, the spectre of the dancing plague could quickly return. All it then took was for one or a few poor souls, believing themselves to have been subject to the curse, to slip into a spontaneous trance. Then they would unconsciously act out the part of the accursed: dancing, leaping, and hopping for days on end. The course of the epidemics also suggests that they were driven by pious fear. From the outbreaks of 1374, 1463, and 1518 we know that dancing was thought to be both the affliction and its cure. There are accounts of people who had temporarily recovered their wits, deliberately dancing themselves back into oblivion in the expectation that only in this way would the curse be lifted. For the same reason, in Strasbourg in 1518 the authorities mandated that the dancers go on dancing day and night, to which end they constructed a special stage in the heart of the city where they could move freely. They even hired professional dancers and musicians to keep them in constant motion. The policy was a disaster. From the dramatic escalation in the epidemic it seems that the strategy helped spread a psychic contagion. In fact, nothing could have been better calculated to turn the dance into a full-scale epidemic than making its victims perform their dances in the most public of spaces. The authorities turned a crisis into a nightmare scenario worthy of a canvas by Hieronymus Bosch. The central role of belief is also apparent in the speed with which epidemics abated once victims had prayed at appropriate shrines or undergone elaborate exorcism rituals. Perhaps more significantly, we have several accounts from the mid to late 1500s of cults of entranced dancing in towns close to the Black Forest and where the Rhine enters the North Sea. Groups of distressed men and women deliberately entered a trance and then danced, accompanied by musicians, towards shrines dedicated to the saints most widely associated with the dancing curse: St Vitus and St John. It seems that a dread of the dancing curse had been harnessed and controlled. A psychic epidemic had been turned into an ecstatic religious ritual. By the mid-1600s, if not before, outbreaks of compulsive dancing had ceased to torment the people of Europe. Their disappearance coincided with the demise of the fervent supernaturalism that had sustained them; in the late 17th century the term "St Vitus' Dance" was appropriated to describe a quite different medical condition. But these bizarre events are well worth remembering. For they provide an object lesson in the power of our beliefs and expectations to shape the expression of psychological distress. In an age dominated by genetic explanations, the dancing plagues remind us that the symptoms of mental illnesses are not fixed and unchanging, but can be modified by changing cultural milieus. At the same time, the phenomenon of the dancing mania, in all its rich perversity, reveals the extremes to which fear and supernaturalism can lead us.

The NATO C3 Agency has developed a system known as ITC (Integrated Training Capability) to help train C2 system operators at the tactical level. At the core of ITC is a time-stepping entity level simulation built on the constructive framework FLAMES (Flexible Analysis Modelling and Exercise System) provided by Ternion Corporation. The simulation interacts directly with NATOs ICC (NATO-wide Integrated Command and Control for Air Operations) System which is used in over 400 locations throughout the Alliance. The ITC software reads Order of Battle and Mission Tasking information for friendly, hostile and neutral sides from the C2 database. The simulation then moves the assets and models the interactions between them. As well as detailed physical models of hardware, NATO doctrine is incorporated into the simulation via the use of cognitive models. The ITC simulation produces a Recognized Air Picture (RAP) in standard format which is fed to the training audience in real-time. The simulation also updates the C2 System by means of standard messages showing status and results of missions as well as updates to the Order of Battle which can be fed into the next days mission planning cycle. The training audience interacts with the simulation via a role-playing response cell staffed by military personnel who are well versed in air operations. This means that there is no requirement for the training audience to learn a simulation interface for an ITC exercise. They interact with the C2 system in the same manner as they do for everyday operations. Communication with the response cell is primarily achieved by telephone. The ITC system provides interfaces which allow a high degree of interaction with the simulation. This means that instructing staff can easily introduce events and incidents into a training scenario which will stimulate the training audience into taking appropriate action. ITC has been employed in many training events over the last five years. It is used at NATO operations centres and also those of NATO nations. The system has been continuously updated and improved over this time and is regarded by the NATO operational community as a highly effective training system.

In 1518, one of the strangest epidemics in recorded history struck the city of Strasbourg. Hundreds of people were seized by an irresistible urge to dance, hop and leap into the air. In houses, halls and public spaces, as fear paralyzed the city and the members of the elite despaired, the dancing continued with mindless intensity. Seldom pausing to eat, drink or rest, many of them danced for days or even weeks. And before long, the chronicles agree, dozens were dying from exhaustion. What was it that could have impelled as many as 400 people to dance, in some cases to death?

What is the point of teaching the history of medicine? Many historians and clinicians find it regrettable that some medical students today will graduate knowing almost nothing of such “greats” of the past as Hippocrates, Galen, Vesalius, Harvey, Lister, and Pasteur. But does this really matter? After all, traditional history of medicine curricula tended to distort medicine's past, omitting the countless errors, wrong turns, fads, blunders, and abuses, in order to tell the sanitized stories of a few scientific superheroes. Modern scholarship has seriously challenged most of these heroic dramas; few of our heroes were as farsighted, noble, or obviously correct as once thought. Joseph Lister, for example, turns out to have had filthy wards, whereas William Harvey was devoted to the Aristotelianism he was long said to have overthrown [1]. But as the history of medicine has become less romanticized, it has also become much more relevant, for it promises to impart useful lessons in the vital importance of scientific scepticism.

Imperial Nature . Joseph Hooker and the Practices of Victorian Science. By Jim Endersby . University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 2008. 441 pp. $35, £18. ISBN 9780226207919. Placing the life and work of the botanist Joseph Hooker in the context of his time, Endersby considers such aspects as the transition from amateurs to professionals, empire, and the philosophical practices of 19th-century science.