The Pharmaceutical Journal Vol 267 No 7165 p366
15 September 2001

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Marine menace
Let’s hear the active voice
Sinister surveillance

Marine menace

It can reasonably be argued that the increased sightings of coelenterates reported from some of our coastal waters are one result of global warming. Several acquaintances who are in the habit of rowing in our inshore waters off the South West peninsula have told me they have encountered unprecedented fleets of Portuguese man-of-war (Physalia physalis) and various species of Chrysaora jellyfish. These creatures are best left alone, since their nematocysts, terminating tentacles extending for 15 metres or further, induce serious histaminic reactions. Contact with them produces a stinging and burning sensation, and a severe sting may cause muscular cramps and nausea in an unwary swimmer.

Individuals stung by a jellyfish are advised to head for the shore promptly, to minimise the risk of drowning. Local applications, including antihistamines, are not very effective in treatment, although oral or parenteral diphenhydramine may bring relief. A severe life-threatening reaction may call for adrenaline or hydrocortisone therapy.

Another menace that has been reported to me is the weever fish (Trachinus), which lurks in sand near the tide-line, with its poisonous dorsal fin projecting into the water. The unwary paddler who steps on this may experience a painful experience. Weever toxin is both neurotoxic and haemotoxic, in some respects resembling a snake venom.

Contact with the spine may cause stabbing pain that spreads through the affected limb and reaches its peak within some 30 minutes. The pain may be intense enough to provoke screaming and panic, but diminishes with a period ranging from two to 24 hours to leave some redness and numbness.

The most serious hazard of such a sting is possible secondary infection of the wound, so that antiseptic treatment is called for. If feasible, immersion of the foot or hand in very hot water as soon as possible brings relief, and a hot compress containing magnesium sulphate is effective.

It is noteworthy that the two Trachinus species met with on British coasts are found mainly in the sand of river estuaries, where there is a high proportion of mud brought down to provide food for the fishes.

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Let’s hear the active voice

In New Scientist for 21 July, an article by Rupert Sheldrake sets out the familiar question of whether reports of scientific investigations should be written in the active or the passive voice. The author recalls that the attitudes of academics towards the reports of their students have changed considerably over the past few decades. School science teachers once insisted that students write up their reports in the passive voice. The aim, apparently, was to avoid any mention of the person responsible for the experiments — to my mind a stupid attitude, since everyone knows perfectly well that people do experiments, and they do not happen out of the blue. To write “I heated X with Y in a test tube and produced a violent reaction” puts the blame squarely on the experimenter, whereas “X was heated with Y in a test tube and a violent reaction resulted” gives the impression that no one was responsible but the mysterious laws of nature took their toll.

Despite our efforts to shift from subjectivity to objectivity, the fact remains that scientific experiments are part of human activity and that the buck stops with the experimenter. Why, then, does the passive voice still rank so high among scientists in general? There is a sign of hope in the recent pronouncement of the president of the Royal Society, no less, that more authority is conferred by the direct approach, the passive attitude being “the hallmark of second-rate work”.

The passive voice is associated with general wordiness and confusion, even with evasiveness and deception. George Orwell in his essay “Politics and the English language” (1946) remarked: “Never use the passive when you can use the active.” It is, however, easy enough to slip up and descend into a passive construction without realising it, and we all do this from time to time.

It is instructive to note that Aristotle in his ‘De anima’ of the fourth century BC made a distinction between passive intellect, which he defined as the capacity for conceptual thinking and active intellect, which, he says, activates the latent capacity for thought. In other words, the active intellect is what does the job, not the passive. That is why politicians go for the passive.

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Sinister surveillance

We live in a world swamped on all sides by bureaucracy and statistics. If we try to discover what good purpose is served by some of the form filling and documentation, we are usually faced by impenetrable secrecy.

It is well recognised that figures are divided into accurate ones, probable ones and guesswork. Or, in the phrase attributed to Benjamin Disraeli: “There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics.” The mathematical principles involved in statistical calculations and estimates are often not rigidly observed, and in any batch of statistics designed for a political purposes the cynic discerns a bending of the facts to conform to the desired effect.

I have noticed of late an increase in the number of questionnaires I receive by post out of the blue, from organisations ranging from obvious commercial statistics collectors to charitable bodies asking me to spare a few minutes to respond to a barrage of questions. They often enclose a miniature pen and tell me that I might win a few thousand pounds if I take the trouble to reply. The questions vary vastly, sometimes asking about my personal habits and beliefs, and those of my spouse, where and why I shop when and where I do, what I buy and what periodicals I read. Occasionally they verge on an intrusion into intimate details that I should never dream of revealing in civilised company. Naturally, I resent the challenge and discard such communications to the rubbish bin.

What adds point to this inquisitorial habit is that I find myself under frequent surveillance from closed circuit television cameras, and am assured that if anyone in authority manages to acquire a DNA sample from me it will be filed indefinitely in a secure vault, in case it might help a forensic investigation at some remote date. I recently read a newspaper article pointing out that the government intelligence services operate an elaborate system of satellite communications equipment to collect data that are officially secret and which politicians do not admit to knowing. The monitoring of telephone, e-mail and internet traffic suggests to a suspicious onlooker that the authorities are engaged in social control by stealth. It is perhaps no wonder that we are suffering from Big Brother phobia.

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