What a nun can teach a scientist about ecology

To save the achoque -- an exotic (and adorable) salamander found in a lake in northern Mexico -- scientists teamed up with an unexpected research partner: a group of nuns called the Sisters of the Immaculate Health. In this delightful talk, science journalist Victoria Gill shares the story of how this unusual collaboration saved the achoque from extinction -- and demonstrates how local and indigenous people could hold the secret to saving our planet's weird, wonderful and most threatened species.

OK, I would like to introduce all of you
beautiful, curious-minded people

to my favorite animal in the world.

This is the Peter Pan
of the amphibian world.

It's an axolotl.

It's a type of salamander,

but it never fully grows up
and climbs out of the water

like other salamanders do.

And this little guy has
X-Man-style powers, right?

So if it loses any limb,

it can just completely regenerate.

It's amazing.

And, I mean, look at it --
it's got a face with a permanent smile.

(Laughter)

It's framed by feathery gills.

It's just ... how could you not love that?

This particular type of axolotl,
a very close relative,

is known as an achoque.

It is equally as cute,

and it lives in just one place
in a lake in the north of Mexico.

It's called Lake Pátzcuaro,

and as you can see,

it is stunningly beautiful.

But unfortunately, it's been so overfished
and so badly polluted

that the achoque is dying out altogether.

And this is something that's a scenario
that's playing out all over the world.

We're living through an extinction crisis,

and species are particularly vulnerable
when they're evolutionarily tailored

to just one little niche
or maybe one lake.

But this is TED, right?

So this is where I give you
the big idea, the big solution.

So how do you save one special
weird species from going extinct?

Well, the answer, at least my answer,

isn't a grand technological intervention.

It's actually really simple.

It's that you find people
who know all about this animal

and you ask them and you listen to them

and you work with them,
if they're up for that.

So I want to tell you about
how I've seen that in science,

and in conservation in particular,

if scientists don't team up
with local people

who have really valuable knowledge

but a practical wisdom that's not going
to be published in any academic journal,

they can really miss the point.

Scientists and science as an enterprise
can fall at the first hurdle

if it rushes in knowing
that it's the experts that know best.

But when scientists shake off
those academic constraints

and really look to people
who have a totally different

but really important perspective
on what they're trying to do,

it can genuinely save the world,

one wonderfully weird amphibian at a time.

So, in the case of the achoque,

these are the people
you need on your team.

(Laughter)

These are the Sisters
of the Immaculate Health.

They are nuns who have a convent
in Pátzcuaro, they live in Pátzcuaro,

and they have a shared history
with the achoque.

And it is so mind-bogglingly wonderful

that it drew me all the way there
to make an audio documentary about them,

and I even have the unflattering selfie

to prove it.

There is a room at the center
of their convent, though,

that looks like this.

It's very strange.

It's lined with all these tanks
full of fresh water

and hundreds of achoques.

And that's because this creature,
because of its regenerative abilities,

it's believed has healing powers
if you consume it.

So the sisters actually make and sell
a medicine using achoques.

I bought a bottle of it.

So this is it.

It tastes a bit like honey,

but the sisters reckon it is good

for all kinds of particularly
respiratory ailments.

So I just want you to have a listen,
if you will, to a clip of Sister Ofelia.

(Audio) Sister Ofelia: (speaks in Spanish)

(Audio) (Interpreter voice-over)
Our convent was founded by Dominican nuns

here in Pátzcuaro in 1747.

Sometime after that,

our sisters started to make
the achoque syrup.

We didn't discover
the properties of the achoque.

That was the original people
from around here, since ancient times.

But we then started to make
the syrup, too.

The locals knew that,

and they came to offer us the animals.

(Audio) Victoria Gill: I see.

So the achoques are
part of making that syrup.

What does the syrup treat,
and what is it for?

(Audio) SO: (speaks in Spanish)

(Audio) (Interpreter voice-over)
It's good for coughs, asthma,

bronchitis, the lungs and back pain.

(Audio) VG: And so you've
harnessed that power

in a syrup, in a medicine.

Can you tell me how it's made?

You're shaking your head
and smiling. (Laughter)

VG: Yeah, they're not up for sharing
the centuries-old secret recipe.

(Laughter)

But the decline in the achoque

actually nearly put a halt
to that medicine production altogether,

which is why the sisters started this.

It's the world's first achoque farm.

All they wanted was a healthy,
sustainable population

so that they could continue
to make that medicine,

but what they created at the same time

was a captive breeding program
for a critically endangered species.

And fast forward a few years,

and these scientists
that you can see in this picture

from Chester Zoo
all the way over the in UK,

not far from where I live,

and from Michoacana University
in Morelia in Mexico

have persuaded the sisters --
it took years of careful diplomacy --

to join them in a research partnership.

So the nuns show the biologists

how you rear perfectly healthy,
very robust Pátzcuaro achoques,

and the scientists have put
some of their funding

into tanks, filters and pumps

in this strange, incongruous
but amazing room.

This is the kind of partnership
that can save a species.

But I don't think I see
enough of this sort of thing,

and I have been ludicrously
lucky in my job.

I've traveled to loads of places
and just basically followed around

brilliant people who are trying
to use science to answer big questions

and solve problems.

I've hung out with scientists
who have solved the mystery

of the origin of the menopause
by tracking killer whales

off the north Pacific coast.

And I've followed around scientists

who've planted cameras
in Antarctic penguin colonies,

because they were looking to capture
the impacts of climate change

as it happens.

But it's this team
that really stuck with me,

that really showed me the impact

that these delicate but really
important relationships can have.

And I think the reason
that it stuck with me as well

is because it's not common.

And one of the reasons it's not common

is because our traditional approach

of the hierarchical system
of academic achievement

doesn't exactly encourage
the type of humility

where scientists will look
to nonscientists

and really ask for their input.

In fact, I think we have
a bit of a tradition,

especially in the West,

of a kind of academically blinkered hubris

that has kept science historically
an enterprise for the elite.

And I think although that's moved on,

it continues to be
its downfall on occasion.

So here's my example from history

and my takedown of a scientific hero.

Sir Ernest Shackleton

and his Trans-Antarctic Expedition
more than a century ago,

the celebrated ill-fated adventure.

On his way there,

Shackleton just didn't listen
to the whalers in South Georgia.

They knew that region, and they told him
you won't get through the ice this year.

It's too widespread, it's too far north,
it's too dangerous.

And look what happened.

I mean, granted, that great adventure,

that story of heroic leadership
that we still tell,

where he saved
every single one of his men,

we wouldn't be telling that story
if he'd just hightailed it for home

and taken their advice.

But it cost him his ship,

I would imagine quite a lot
of cold injuries among the team,

a good few cases of PTSD

and Mrs. Chippy,
the ship's cat, had to be shot

because the team couldn't afford
any extra food as they fought to survive.

Now, that was all a very long time ago,

but as I've prepared for this talk,

I've revisited some of the stories
that I have covered,

where these really unusual collaborations
made a real positive difference.

So I spoke to former poachers

whose knowledge of where
they used to hunt illegally

is now really important
in conservation projects

in those same places.

And I spoke to an amazing artist

whose own experience
of mental health struggles

has actually paved the way for him
to take a role in designing and creating

a new, really innovative and beautiful
mental health ward in a hospital.

Most recently, I worked here,
in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone,

with a team of scientists
that have been working there for decades.

One of their experiments
growing crops in that area

has now turned into this.

It's Chernobyl's first vodka.

(Laughter)

It's pretty good, too! I've tasted it.

And this is actually,
although it looks like a niche product,

it's set to be the first consumer product
to come out of the exclusion zone

since the nuclear accident.

And that's actually the result
of years of conversation

with local communities who still live
on the periphery of that abandoned land

and want to know when they can --
and if they can -- safely grow food

and build businesses and rebuild
their communities and their lives.

This was a product of humility,

of listening,

and I saw that in spades
when I visited Pátzcuaro.

So I watched as a decades-experienced
conservation biologist

called Gerardo Garcia

listened and watched super carefully

as a nun in a full habit
and wimple and latex gloves

showed him how, if you tap
an achoque on the head really gently,

it'll open its mouth so you can quickly
get a DNA swab with a Q-tip.

(Laughter)

When scientists team up with,
look to and defer to people

who have a really valuable perspective
on what they're trying to do

but a totally different outlook,

something really special can happen.

Now, there is a truly global
and a very, very ambitious example of this

called the International Panel
on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services.

Now, that is not a snappy title,
but stick with me.

This organization includes
more than 130 countries,

and it's aiming to do nothing less
than assess the state of the natural world

across our entire planet.

So it recently published
this global assessment

on the state of nature,

and that could be the foundation
for an international agreement

where all of those nations could sign up
to finally take action

to tackle the biodiversity crisis
that's happening on planet Earth

right now.

Now, I know from trying to communicate,
trying to report on reports like this,

on assessments like this
for a broad audience,

that these big international groups
can seem so high-level

as to be kind of
out of reach and nebulous,

but there's a group of human beings
at the center of them,

the report's authors,

who have this formidable task
of bringing together

all of that biological
and ecological information

that paints a clear and accurate picture

of the state of the natural world.

And 10 years before this panel
even set out to do that,

to put that assessment together,

they created what's called
a "cultural concept framework."

This is essentially
a cultural concept translation dictionary

for all of the different ways
that we talk about the natural world.

So it formally recognizes, for example,

that "Mother Earth" and "nature"
means the same thing.

And what that means is that
Indigenous and local knowledge

can be brought into the same document

and given the weight
and merit that it deserves

in that assessment of what state
our natural environment is in.

And that is absolutely critical,

because an Inuit hunter might never
publish in an academic journal,

but I'll bet you she knows more about
the changes to her home Arctic community

because of climate change

than a scientist who spent many years
going to and from that region

taking measurements.

And collectively, Indigenous people
are the caretakers

of an estimated 25 percent
of the entire global land surface,

including some of the most biodiverse
places on the planet.

So imagine how much we're missing

if we don't cross
those cultural boundaries,

or at least try to,

when we're trying to figure out
how the world works

and how to protect it.

Every single research proposal
is a new opportunity to do exactly that.

So what if, every time
a research project was proposed,

it had to include a suggestion
of a person or a group of people --

local farmers, Indigenous
community leaders, nuns --

that researchers wanted
to bring into the fold,

invite into their team and listen to?

I just want to let
Sister Ofelia give her view

of why she is so particularly
driven and dedicated

to the survival of the achoque.

(Audio) VG: Sister Ofelia, do you think
that saving this species from extinction,

is that part of your work for God?

(Audio) SO: (speaks in Spanish)

(Audio) (Interpreter voice-over)
It's the responsibility

of every human being

not to harm those who live around us.

That's all living things.

We're all created not only just to survive
but to be happy and to make others happy.

All of us here are providing happiness
by protecting this animal,

and we're also making Him happy.

(Audio) (Nuns singing)

VG: I feel like I should sort of slink off
and let the nuns sing me out,

because it sounds so lovely.

But did you hear that?

"We're providing happiness."

Now, that's not a protocol
you'd ever see outlined

in any formal research project proposal --

(Laughter)

but it's the impetus behind what's become
the most successful breeding program

in the world

of an animal that was on the very
brink of being wiped out.

And isn't that just wonderful?

Thank you.

(Applause)