Heliox: Where Evidence Meets Empathy 🇨🇦
We make rigorous science accessible, accurate, and unforgettable.
Produced by Michelle Bruecker and Scott Bleackley, it features reviews of emerging research and ideas from leading thinkers, curated under our creative direction with AI assistance for voice, imagery, and composition. Systemic voices and illustrative images of people are representative tools, not depictions of specific individuals.
We dive deep into peer-reviewed research, pre-prints, and major scientific works—then bring them to life through the stories of the researchers themselves. Complex ideas become clear. Obscure discoveries become conversation starters. And you walk away understanding not just what scientists discovered, but why it matters and how they got there.
Independent, moderated, timely, deep, gentle, clinical, global, and community conversations about things that matter. Breathe Easy, we go deep and lightly surface the big ideas.
Heliox: Where Evidence Meets Empathy 🇨🇦
The Engine Of Life is Cooperation, Not Competition
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We're taught that nature runs on ruthless competition — survival of the fittest, eat or be eaten. But look closer at biology, and a very different story emerges.
This episode traces cooperation as the hidden architecture of life on Earth: a fig wasp that tears off its own wings and sacrifices its life to keep a fig tree alive; a solar-powered sea slug that steals functioning chloroplasts from algae and runs on stolen sunlight for months; and the two-billion-year-old bacterial merger — first proposed by Lynn Margulis and rejected by fifteen journals before being vindicated — that gave rise to the mitochondria powering every complex cell on the planet, including every cell in your body.
We also ask the harder question: if cooperation built life, why did our culture become so obsessed with competition? The answer traces back to Charles Darwin's Victorian London, the economist Thomas Malthus, and the mechanical, industrial worldview of the 19th century — a story that changes how you might read "survival of the fittest" (a phrase Darwin never actually coined) forever.
Then we bring the question into the lab. A study published in BMC Neuroscience wired up human subjects with EEG and fNIRS brain imaging during cooperative and competitive tasks. The result defies the old narrative: even highly competitive, reward-driven subjects showed significantly greater activation in the brain's social-reward center during cooperation than competition — and it wasn't just a feeling. Cooperating subjects made fewer errors and responded faster.
Finally, we look at what happens when human systems ignore this biology.
References
Togetherness: How co-operation built the world (video)
Why to cooperate is better than to compete: brain and personality components
This is Heliox: Where Evidence Meets Empathy
Independent, moderated, timely, deep, gentle, clinical, global, and community conversations about things that matter. Breathe Easy, we go deep and lightly surface the big ideas.
Disclosure: This podcast uses AI-generated synthetic voices for a material portion of the audio content, in line with Apple Podcasts guidelines.
We make rigorous science accessible, accurate, and unforgettable.
Produced by Michelle Bruecker and Scott Bleackley, it features reviews of emerging research and ideas from leading thinkers, curated under our creative direction with AI assistance for voice, imagery, and composition. Systemic voices and illustrative images of people are representative tools, not depictions of specific individuals.
We dive deep into peer-reviewed research, pre-prints, and major scientific works—then bring them to life through the stories of the researchers themselves. Complex ideas become clear. Obscure discoveries become conversation starters. And you walk away understanding not just what scientists discovered, but why it matters and how they got there.
Independent, moderated, timely, deep, gentle, clinical, global, and community conversations about things that matter. Breathe Easy, we go deep and lightly surface the big ideas.
Spoken word, short and sweet, with rhythm and a catchy beat.
http://tinyurl.com/stonefolksongs
This is Heliox, where evidence meets empathy. Independent, moderated, timely, deep, gentle, clinical, global, and community conversations about things that matter. Breathe easy. We go deep and lightly surface the big ideas.
Speaker 2:I want to start today by asking you to just try to imagine something deeply claustrophobic. You are navigating through a tunnel, and it's so narrow, so incredibly tight, that the only way to move forward is to physically strip away parts of your own body.
Speaker 1:Oh, man. It sounds like a scene from some kind of psychological thriller, doesn't it?
Speaker 2:It really does, yeah. You are pushing forward in the dark. Your wings snap off against the walls of the tunnel. Your antennae are crushed and torn away. You just keep squeezing millimeter by millimeter into the center of this dark sealed chamber.
Speaker 1:And it gets worse, right?
Speaker 2:Oh, it gets so much worse. Once you are inside, there is absolutely no way out. You will never see the sky again. You're going to lay your eggs in this sealed tomb and then surrounded by the walls of this fleshy cavern, you will just die.
Speaker 1:And that horrifying sequence, I mean, that is not science fiction. It is happening millions of times a day all over the world just so we can eat figs.
Speaker 2:Welcome to the deep dive. That vivid, slightly morbid scenario is the actual life cycle of the female fig wasp. And we are starting in that dark sealed tomb of a fig today because it represents something that fundamentally challenges everything we think we know about how the world works.
Speaker 1:Right. Because normally when we think about the natural world, we have this deeply ingrained image. It's a very specific narrative.
Speaker 2:Yeah. Like the orchestral music swells on a wildlife documentary. Yeah. you know, and you see a cheetah in slow motion relentlessly running down a gazelle.
Speaker 1:Exactly. We are taught that this is the absolute rule of reality, a totally binary system. You win or you lose, you eat or you get eaten, survival of the fittest.
Speaker 2:But today, our mission is to upend that narrative for you. We are going to look closer beyond the teeth and the claws into the microscopic world, the deep ecological networks, and even the electrical firing of our own brains.
Speaker 1:Yeah, we want to find out if the hidden engine of the world isn't actually warfare,
Speaker 2:but teamwork. And to do this, we are synthesizing some incredible material today. First, we're pulling from a fantastic interview with science journalist Rowan Hooper. He was discussing his book Togetherness, Symbiosis, and the Hidden Story of Life's Greatest Collaborations.
Speaker 1:Which is such a great read. That gives us the macro view, right? The biological blueprint of
Speaker 2:the planet over billions of years. Yeah. And to ground that biology in our own lived experience, we are pairing it with a really dense, cutting-edge neuroscientific study from BMC Neuroscience.
Speaker 1:Which is wild, by the way.
Speaker 2:Totally wild. This team of researchers actually mapped what happens inside the human brain when we cooperate versus when we compete. And the results are, well, they genuinely might change how you interact with your coworkers on Monday morning.
Speaker 1:It's a brilliant pairing, really. We are moving from the origins of complex life to the real-time oxygenation of your frontal lobes.
Speaker 2:Okay, let's unpack this, starting with the biology. The core concept driving Hooper's book and this entire hidden engine of nature is symbiosis. But, I mean, let's define our terms rigorously here.
Speaker 1:You have to, yeah.
Speaker 2:Because symbiosis is a word that gets tossed around in, like, corporate synergy meetings and casual conversation all the time. People hear it and they picture, what, a bee landing on a flower, taking some pollen and buzzing away.
Speaker 1:And that is the classic misconception. A bee pollinating a flower and leaving is just a brief transactional interaction. It's basically an ecological handshake. Right. Scientifically, symbiosis, which derives from the Greek for living together, means two entirely different species living together in a highly intimate, prolonged way.
Speaker 2:Right. It's not a handshake. It's moving in together, combining bank accounts, and locking the door. And as we saw with the fig wasp, that relationship can be incredibly extreme.
Speaker 1:The fig wasp is the perfect illustration of obligate symbiosis. The wild fig tree, and we're not talking about the wind-pollinated cultivars you might have in a garden, but the ancient wild species, it has its flowers hidden entirely inside the fruit.
Speaker 2:So they're sealed off.
Speaker 1:Completely. The wind cannot reach them. Bees cannot reach them. The tree relies 100% on that specific wasp tearing his own wings off to crawl inside and pollinate it.
Speaker 2:And the wasp relies 100% on the fig as an incubator for its young. I was reading into the mechanics of this, and the male offspring, they have it just as rough as the mother.
Speaker 1:Oh, arguably worse.
Speaker 2:Yeah. The larva hatch inside the fig. The males are born completely blind and wingless. Their entire existence consists of crawling around inside the fig, copulating with their sisters, while the sisters are still in a larval state.
Speaker 1:Which is just bizarre.
Speaker 2:Completely. And then they use their specialized jaws to chew a tunnel through the tough skin of the fig.
Speaker 1:They're essentially born to be tunnel boring machines. That's their whole purpose. Wow. They chew the escape route for their pregnant sisters, and then the males die inside the fig, having never seen the outside world. The sisters fly off, find a new fig, rip their wings off, and the cycle continues.
Speaker 2:It is a millions of years old, tightly choreographed fatal dance, but it works perfectly. They are totally dependent on one another. Now, while that is a gothic tragedy of an example, Hooper points out that symbiosis can also be like an absolute marvel of bioengineering.
Speaker 1:Which brings us to Elysia chlorotica, the solar powered sea slug.
Speaker 2:Oh, this thing.
Speaker 1:If the fig wasp is a horror movie, this sea slug is pure science fiction.
Speaker 2:I spent, I swear, an hour just looking at pictures of this thing after reading the source material. It lives off the coast of the UK and Florida, and it basically looks like a translucent green leaf crawling along the seafloor.
Speaker 1:It's a remarkable creature. It feeds on algae, specifically a type of intertidal seaweed. But the mechanism of what happens after it eats the algae is where it gets absolutely fascinating.
Speaker 2:Right, because most animals eat a plant, digest it, break down the cells into basic nutrients, and excrete the rest.
Speaker 1:Exactly. Not this slug. It uses a process called kleptoplasty.
Speaker 2:Klepto, as in stealing.
Speaker 1:Precisely. It selectively pierces the algae cells and sucks out the contents, but it manages to keep the chloroplasts completely intact.
Speaker 2:And chloroplasts are the tiny engines inside plant cells, right?
Speaker 1:Right. The engines that execute photosynthesis, turning sunlight into sugar.
Speaker 2:So, if I'm understanding this right, the slug's digestive tract somehow identifies these microscopic solar panels, realizes they are valuable, and instead of dissolving them in stomach acid, it transports them into its own skin cells.
Speaker 1:That is exactly what happens. It sequesters the chloroplasts and specialized cells along its digestive tract, which branches out through its entire leaf-like body.
Speaker 2:That is insane.
Speaker 1:It gets crazier. The true mystery, the mechanism that puzzled biologists for decades, is how the chloroplasts survive inside the animal. A chloroplast needs specific proteins to function and repair itself, and the instructions for those proteins are kept in the nucleus of the algae cell.
Speaker 2:The nucleus that the slug left behind in the ocean.
Speaker 1:Exactly.
Speaker 2:So the solar panels are unplugged from their control center. They should just degrade and break down within days, right?
Speaker 1:Should, but they don't. They survive for months. The slug can literally sit in the sun, soaking up rays, and survive entirely on the sugars produced by these stolen plant engines. Well, for a long time, researchers hypothesized that the slug must have stolen the actual DNA from the algae too, a process called horizontal gene transfer.
Speaker 2:So incorporating plant genes into its animal genome to keep the chloroplasts running.
Speaker 1:Right.
Speaker 2:Wait, wait, like an animal mutating its own genetic code with plant DNA? Did they prove that?
Speaker 1:Interestingly, recent genome sequencing suggests it's actually not horizontal gene transfer.
Speaker 2:Oh, really?
Speaker 1:Yeah, the slug hasn't stolen the genes. Instead, it seems the slug has evolved its own incredibly complex biochemical environment that artificially preserves the chloroplasts, protecting them from immune responses and oxidative stress.
Speaker 2:So it's just maintaining them.
Speaker 1:Exactly. The slug is basically acting as an intensive care unit for plant organelles. It's an ongoing cellular level symbiosis that blurs the line between flora and fauna.
Speaker 2:It really makes you look at every animal differently. And it's not just animals doing this. If we look at plants, the most successful ones are playing the exact same cooperative game. Take orchids.
Speaker 1:Yes, orchids are a brilliant example.
Speaker 2:There are roughly 28,000 species of orchids on Earth. They are wildly diverse and successful.
Speaker 1:But their reproductive strategy seems entirely paradoxical at first glance.
Speaker 2:Right. If you look at an acorn, it makes sense. An oak tree packs this massive starchy lunchbox for its seed. The baby oak has plenty of energy to put down a taproot and push up its first leaves.
Speaker 1:It has a whole survival kit.
Speaker 2:Yeah. But orchid seeds are practically microscopic. They look like specks of dust. They contain zero endosperm, no food whatsoever. They are just a tiny embryo in a papery shell.
Speaker 1:Which means an orchid seed cannot germinate on its own. It is physically impossible.
Speaker 2:So it's playing a microscopic lottery. The orchid releases millions of these dust-like seeds into the wind. When a seed lands, it absolutely must land in the immediate vicinity of a specific type of mycorrhizal fungus in the soil.
Speaker 1:And this is where the chemical communication begins. The seed and the fungus engage in a highly complex biochemical dialogue. If the signals match, the fungus physically penetrates the seed.
Speaker 2:See, normally if a fungus penetrates an embryo, that's an infection. That's game over.
Speaker 1:In almost any other context, yes, absolutely. It would be parasitism. The fungus would consume the embryo. But in this symbiosis, the fungus does the exact opposite.
Speaker 2:It feeds it.
Speaker 1:Yes. It acts like an intravenous drip. It pumps water, carbohydrates, and minerals into the seed. It acts as the seed's surrogate root system, feeding it until it can grow leaves and begin photosynthesizing.
Speaker 2:A nutritional starter pack entirely provided by a different kingdom of life. And it's not a one-way street either. Years later, when the orchid is a mature green plant, it reverses the flow. It takes the sugars it creates from sunlight and pumps them back down into the root system to feed the fungus.
Speaker 1:What all these examples, the wasp, the slug, the orchid, are pointing us toward is a foundational shift in how we categorize life. In biology, we are moving away from the idea of the isolated individual and embracing a concept called the holobiont.
Speaker 2:The holobiont. I love that word. It sounds like a geopolitical faction to a sci-fi novel, but it's actually the most accurate description of reality we have.
Speaker 1:It really is. A holobiont is an assemblage of a host and the many other species living in or around it, which together form a discrete ecological unit. It means an organism is greater than the sum of its parts.
Speaker 2:The sources gave an amazing example of this with the Hawaiian bobtail squid. This is a tiny nocturnal squid, no bigger than a golf ball. And it spends its nights hunting in the shallow waters off Hawaii.
Speaker 1:But there's a problem with that hunting strategy.
Speaker 2:Right, because the moonlight shines down to the shallow water, the squid would normally cast a shadow on the seafloor, which would instantly alert predators looking up from below.
Speaker 1:So the squid uses counter-illumination. It emits light from its underside to match the moonlight, basically erasing its shadow.
Speaker 2:But the squid itself doesn't produce the light. I found this so cool. It has a specialized light organ on its belly. But when the squid is born, that organ is completely empty. The baby squid has to actively harvest a specific bioluminescent bacteria called vibrioficiary in the surrounding ocean water.
Speaker 1:The mechanism here is astonishing, really. The squid secretes a mucus that traps various bacteria, but it uses highly specific chemical cilia to weed out the ones it doesn't want.
Speaker 2:Like a bouncer at a club?
Speaker 1:Exactly like that. Until only vibrio fishery are allowed into the crypts of the light organ.
Speaker 2:And once the bacteria are inside, they reproduce. But they don't glow right away, do they?
Speaker 1:No, and this is where it gets into a phenomenon called quorum sensing.
Speaker 2:Quorum sensing.
Speaker 1:Yeah. The bacteria don't want to waste energy-producing light if there are only a few of them. You know, it wouldn't be bright enough to do anything useful. So they constantly release chemical signal molecules into their environment. They're essentially taking a roll call. Once the concentration of those chemicals hits a critical threshold, meaning there is a dense enough population of bacteria inside the squid's organ, they all turn on their light-producing genes simultaneously.
Speaker 2:They wait until they have a quorum, and then boom, the lights come on. The squid gets its camouflage, and the bacteria get a safe, nutrient-rich home. But here is the kicker. The part that really proves the hollow biant concept.
Speaker 1:Yeah.
Speaker 2:If you take a newborn bobtail squid and raise it in perfectly sterile seawater, devoid of that specific bacteria, it doesn't just fail to glow. No. Its body physically fails to develop properly. The light organ remains completely stunted. The squid needs the bacteria's chemical presence to trigger its own morphological development.
Speaker 1:It cannot become itself without its partner. And if you are listening to this right now, assuming this is just a quirk of squids and wasps, you need to understand that humans are holobites too. We are walking ecosystems.
Speaker 2:The human microbiome.
Speaker 1:Exactly. There are trillions of microorganisms living on our skin, in our mouths, and most densely in our gut. They outnumber our human cells.
Speaker 2:Which is wild to think about.
Speaker 1:It is. They digest our food. They synthesize vitamins like B12 and K. They train our immune system, and they even produce neurotransmitters like serotonin that affect our mood and cognitive function.
Speaker 2:So they're basically running the show.
Speaker 1:In many ways, yes. If you raised a human in a perfectly sterile bubble, completely devoid of microbial partners, their immune system would not develop correctly. Like the squid, we cannot properly become human without our non-human components.
Speaker 2:Which makes it so fascinating to see how violently resistant the scientific establishment was to this idea for so long. Humans have this deeply ingrained bias toward individualism. You know, I am a singular, distinct entity. Yeah. And that bias absolutely blinded science for decades.
Speaker 1:Oh, completely.
Speaker 2:I didn't know this history until reading the sources, but there was a literal scientific war fought over lichen in the 19th century.
Speaker 1:The Great Lichen Feud. It's a wonderful, slightly absurd piece of scientific history.
Speaker 2:It really is. Lichen, for context, is that crusty, incredibly resilient stuff you see growing on bare rocks, gravestones, and tree bark. It's a pioneer species. It can survive extreme radiation, drought, cold, you name it.
Speaker 1:And for a long time, the scientific consensus was just lichen is a plant. It's a tough, weird plant.
Speaker 2:Right. But in the late 1860s, a Swiss botanist named Simon Schwendener started looking at lichen under better microscopes. And he proposed something completely radical.
Speaker 1:He said that lichen wasn't a single plant at all.
Speaker 2:Yeah, he said it was a structural matrix built by a fungus which was holding captive a layer of photosynthesizing algae. A dual organism.
Speaker 1:And the established lichenologists lost their minds.
Speaker 2:They were utterly scandalized.
Speaker 1:You have to understand the academic ego of the time. These eminent Victorian scientists had dedicated their lives to categorizing lichen as a distinct class of singular plants.
Speaker 2:Right. They had whole careers based on it.
Speaker 1:Exactly. To suggest it was just a fungus exploiting an algae was seen as a demotion of the organism and an insult to their life's work.
Speaker 2:They literally wrote angry vitriolic papers attacking Schwindener. They called his theory a romance, a fiction. They refused to believe that two completely different evolutionary lineages could merge to create a single physical structure.
Speaker 1:It was pure stubbornness.
Speaker 2:They fought this for decades, purely out of a philosophical stubbornness to let go of the singular organism idea.
Speaker 1:And it took overwhelming microscopy evidence to finally force them to concede. But that 19th century resistance to cooperation, that was just a warm up for the real battle.
Speaker 2:Oh yeah. Fast forward to the 1960s, and that same stubbornness scaled up to one of the biggest scientific dogfights of the 20th century, centered around a biologist named Lynn Margulis.
Speaker 1:Lynn Margulis is a legend, but she went through hell to prove a theory that fundamentally rewrote the history of life on Earth.
Speaker 2:She really did. So Margulis was looking at eukaryotic cells, the complex cells that make up every plant, animal, and fungus. And she was specifically looking at mitochondria, the tiny organelles inside our cells that generate energy.
Speaker 1:Mitochondria are strange. They have their own DNA, completely separate from the DNA in the nucleus of the cell, and they reproduce on their own schedule.
Speaker 2:So Margulis looked at this and said, wait a minute, these mitochondria look exactly like independent bacteria.
Speaker 1:Right. So she formulated the theory of endosymbiosis. She proposed that roughly 2 billion years ago, a large predatory archaeal cell engulfed a smaller free-living bacterium. Usually, this process phagocytosis ends with the larger cell digesting the smaller one for food.
Speaker 2:But this time, it was a microscopic hostage situation that turned into a partnership.
Speaker 1:Exactly. The larger cell didn't digest the bacterium. Instead, the bacterium stayed alive inside the host cell. The host provided a safe, nutrient-rich environment, and the bacterium, which was highly efficient at turning oxygen into energy, started leaking ATP biological energy into the host. Over millions of years, they became inextricably linked. The swallowed bacterium evolved into the mitochondrion.
Speaker 2:Okay, let's pause here and just let this sink in. You are telling me that every single cell in my body right now, every cell in a redwood tree, every cell in a blue whale, is powered by what used to be a free-roaming, independent bacterium that decided to cooperate with its host 2 billion years ago.
Speaker 1:That is the biological reality, yes. Without that single act of ancient symbiosis, complex life as we know it would not exist. Life would have remained as simple, single-celled sludge.
Speaker 2:And when Margulis tried to publish this, what happened?
Speaker 1:Her paper was rejected by roughly 15 different scientific journals.
Speaker 2:By 15?
Speaker 1:Yes. When it was finally published, she was mocked. Leading evolutionary biologists called her theory heresy. They were so deeply entrenched in the neo-Darwinian view, where evolution only happens through slow, competitive random mutations, that they couldn't stomach the idea of a massive evolutionary leap driven by two species abruptly merging in a cooperative act.
Speaker 2:It took decades for genetic sequencing to vindicate her, didn't it?
Speaker 1:It did. They sequenced mitochondrial DNA and proved undeniably that its closest living relatives are free-living bacteria. She was right all along. Our very existence is built on a merger.
Speaker 2:And if we push this conceptual framework to its absolute limit, The sources introduced a theory by the physicist Freeman Bison regarding the very origin of life itself.
Speaker 1:This is such a fascinating area of thought.
Speaker 2:I found it deeply poetic. We know about mitochondria now, but how did the very first spark of life happen before that?
Speaker 1:So Dyson looked at the origin of life and saw a mechanical paradox. To have a living cell, you basically need two things. You need hardware metabolism, the chemical engine that processes energy, And you need software nucleic acids like RNA or DNA, the information that tells the cell how to replicate.
Speaker 2:But the odds of both the engine and the instruction manual spontaneously evolving at the exact same time in the exact same microscopic bubble are astronomically low.
Speaker 1:Exactly. So Dyson's hypothesis is the double origin theory. He proposed that metabolism and information originated separately. Imagine a hydrothermal vent at the bottom of a primordial ocean. Inside a tiny lipid bubble, a protocell, a purely chemical metabolism, begins. It's processing energy, but it is blind. It has no genetic code. It cannot accurately replicate.
Speaker 2:So you have hardware running with no software.
Speaker 1:Meanwhile, floating somewhere else in the chemical soup, you have a primitive strand of nucleic acid. It holds information. It has the potential to replicate, but it has no engine to power the process. It's software without a computer.
Speaker 2:And Dyson suggests they just crashed into each other.
Speaker 1:He theorized that life began as the ultimate symbiosis. The wandering genetic information entered the metabolic protocell. The engine provided the energy. The RNA provided the instructions. They merged in an act of deep primordial cooperation to form the first true replicating living system.
Speaker 2:That is just mind-blowing.
Speaker 1:While it remains a hypothesis, the fact that physics and biology are now looking for the genesis of life and cooperation rather than competition represents a massive paradigm shift.
Speaker 2:Okay. I am convinced. The biological blueprint of the plant, from the very first cell to the mitochondria powering my heartbeat, to the micro-rital networks under the forest floor, it is built on profound cooperation.
Speaker 1:Agreed.
Speaker 2:But this raises a massive glaring question. If teamwork is the foundational architecture of life on Earth, why are we as a society so entirely obsessed with competition?
Speaker 1:That is the big question, isn't it?
Speaker 2:Yeah. Where did this relentless, cutthroat survival of the fittest narrative come from, if not from the biology itself?
Speaker 1:Well, to answer that, we have to leave the primordial oceans and travel to the foggy, soot-stained streets of 19th century London. We have to look at the man who codified evolutionary theory, Charles Darwin.
Speaker 2:Here is where I want to push back a little bit, because it's easy to look back and say, Darwin missed the whole cooperation thing. But from what I read in the houses, Darwin wasn't blind. He was a meticulous observer.
Speaker 1:You're absolutely right. Darwin was a genius of observation, and he fully understood ecological dependence. In the famous concluding paragraph of On the Origin of Species, he writes beautifully about an entangled bank.
Speaker 2:Right. I remember that phrase.
Speaker 1:Yeah. He describes birds, insects, worms, and plants all dependent on each other in an incredibly complex web. He conducted experiments in his own garden showing how different species interact. He knew cooperation existed.
Speaker 2:So if he saw the entangled bank, why did he make the struggle for existence the headline of his theory? Why did he emphasize the competition, the red in tooth and claw, while downplaying the symbiosis?
Speaker 1:Because science doesn't happen in a vacuum. It happens in a culture. After Darwin returned from his voyage on the Beagle, he was living in London during the absolute apex of the Industrial Revolution.
Speaker 2:Right. So we're talking about extreme Victorian capitalism, factories churning out smoke, massive urbanization, extreme poverty, living right alongside extreme wealth.
Speaker 1:Exactly. It was an incredibly stratified, hyper-competitive society. And Darwin was reading the work of Thomas Malthus, an economist. Malthus wrote a grim essay on population pressure, arguing that human populations will always outgrow their food supply, leading to an inevitable, violent struggle for resources where the weak perish.
Speaker 2:So Darwin reads this economic theory about human society, and he basically maps it onto the natural world to explain natural selection. Right. But it wasn't just Malthus, right? The sources mention his social circle, specifically a guy named Charles Babbage.
Speaker 1:Charles Babbage is a fascinating figure here. He was a mathematician, essentially the inventor of the first mechanical computer. He was building the analytical engine, this massive room-sized machine of brass gears, levers, and punch guards.
Speaker 2:Which sounds incredibly steampunk, by the way.
Speaker 1:Very steampunk. Darwin attended Babbage's social salons and saw demonstrations of this machine.
Speaker 2:And seeing a machine do complex calculations without human thought, that influenced Darwin.
Speaker 1:Profoundly. It showed him a model of the universe that operated entirely on blind, mechanical, interacting forces. No divine hand, just gears grinding against gears. Darwin absorbed this mechanical, competitive, economic worldview.
Speaker 2:But wait, are you saying Darwin deliberately skewed his scientific framing just to appease the Victorian public? Like he pitched his biological theory in the language of a 19th century tech bro just so the venture capitalists of his day would buy his book. That feels like a massive accusation against the father of evolutionary biology.
Speaker 1:I wouldn't say he deliberately skewed his data to sell out. Rather, it's about cognitive bias. The cultural water he was swimming in heavily influenced which mechanisms he found most compelling and plausible.
Speaker 2:Okay, that makes sense.
Speaker 1:Competition made intuitive sense to a Victorian gentleman living in an industrial empire. He framed his theory in a language that both he and his audience implicitly understood because it mirrored their daily reality.
Speaker 2:And it worked. The book changed the world.
Speaker 1:It did. But the framing worked a little too well. It escaped the realm of biology and mutated into something deeply destructive, social Darwinism.
Speaker 2:Right. Herbert Spencer and the phrase survival of the fittest. Darwin didn't even coin originally, right?
Speaker 1:Exactly. Spencer coined it. Powerful people took Darwin's emphasis on natural competition and weaponized it to justify human behavior. They argued that because nature is a brutal competition, human society should naturally be the same.
Speaker 2:That's a dangerous leap.
Speaker 1:Very. It became the intellectual justification for unregulated predatory capitalism, extreme inequality, colonialism, and the ruthless exploitation of the environment. They said we are just acting according to nature.
Speaker 2:Which brings us to the crux of today's deep dive. We have a cultural narrative that tells us we are biologically destined to be ruthless competitors. But we have an evolutionary history that tells us we are built out of ancient cooperation.
Speaker 1:Right.
Speaker 2:So what is the tiebreaker? What does the modern human brain actually prefer? If you put a person in a room, do their neurons fire harder for a fight or for a partnership?
Speaker 1:That exact question is what the researchers in our second source, the study from BMC Neuroscience, set out to answer. They wanted to move away from theoretical biology and historical context and measure the real-time physical neurological correlates of cooperation versus competition in live human subjects.
Speaker 2:Okay, let's get into the lab. Because the methodology of this experiment is brilliantly devious. They took university students, brought them into a lab, and paired them up. But they separated the pairs with an opaque screen. You know you have a partner, but you can't see them, hear them, or talk to them.
Speaker 1:They isolated the social dynamic down to pure data. Then they gave them a cognitive task, a sustained selective attention test on a computer.
Speaker 2:Basically, geometric shapes of different colors slash on the screen, and you have to press corresponding buttons as fast and as accurately as humanly possible.
Speaker 1:Yes, a highly demanding visual motor task. But the trick was how they framed the goal. They split the pairs into two distinct psychological conditions.
Speaker 2:Okay, what were they?
Speaker 1:Condition one was cooperation. The researchers told the subjects, your success in this game is entirely dependent on how well you synchronize with your unseen partner. Your scores are pooled. You need to match their speed and accuracy to win.
Speaker 2:And condition two was competition. They told those subjects, Your goal is to destroy the person on the other side of the screen. You must be faster, sharper, and make fewer errors than your rival to win.
Speaker 1:But here is the manipulation. The researchers rigged the feedback. The subjects weren't actually seeing their real-time performance against their partner.
Speaker 2:Right, they lied to them.
Speaker 1:Yes. Instead, the computer was programmed to constantly deliver an artificially high rate of positive feedback.
Speaker 2:70% positive feedback, according to the paper. They were just pumping these students full of digital high fives.
Speaker 1:Exactly. In the cooperative group, the screen constantly told them, you are synchronizing perfectly, great teamwork. In the competitive group, the screen told them, you are dominating your rival, you are crushing them.
Speaker 2:Why manipulate the feedback, though? Why not just let them play?
Speaker 1:Because the researchers didn't want to measure the frustration of losing. They wanted to isolate the feeling of success. They wanted to know, when you feel you are succeeding, Does your brain reward you more for succeeding with someone or succeeding against someone?
Speaker 2:But before we even get to the brain scans, the researchers recognize something crucial. Not all humans react to success the same way. The guy in accounting who aggressively wants a promotion is going to react differently to winning than the quiet person in IT who just wants everyone to get along.
Speaker 1:Precisely. Personality dictates neurological response. So before the game, they categorized every subject using a very established psychological metric called the BIS-BIS scale.
Speaker 2:Let's break this down because understanding DIS and BIS felt like it explained 90% of human office politics to me.
Speaker 1:It's a very useful framework. BIS stands for behavioral inhibition system. BAS stands for behavioral activation system. They are two distinct motivational systems in the brain. And while we all use both, we usually lean slightly toward one.
Speaker 2:So if I am a high BIS person, how do I operate?
Speaker 1:A high BIS individual is primarily motivated by the avoidance of negative outcomes. They are highly attuned to risk, punishment, and anxiety. In a social hierarchy, they tend to adopt more submissive or agreeable strategies. They don't want to rock the boat because conflict represents a potential threat.
Speaker 2:They are playing defense drastically. And what about a high BIS person?
Speaker 1:High BIS individuals play offense. They are approach-oriented. They are highly sensitive to reward, positive reinforcement, and goal achievement. In social contexts, they tend to be dominant, proactive, and assertive. They seek out the dopamine hit of success, and they are willing to take risks to get it.
Speaker 2:Okay, so the researchers isolate the data for the high BA subjects. These are the naturally competitive, reward-seeking, dominant-leaning people. They put them in the rigged game. They pump them full of positive feedback. And then they wire up their brains to see what happens.
Speaker 1:And to measure the brain, they didn't just use one tool. They use two entirely different neuroimaging technologies simultaneously, EEG and FNIRs.
Speaker 2:I want to make sure we get the mechanism right here because I think a lot of people just picture a glowing brain on a screen without knowing what we're actually measuring. I read that EEG electroencephalography is measuring electricity, right?
Speaker 1:That's correct. The brain communicates via electrical impulses. When millions of neurons fire together, they create electrical waves that we can measure with electrodes on the scalp. In this study, they focused heavily on alpha waves and theta waves.
Speaker 2:Now, I always thought alpha waves were what you produced when you were relaxed, like meditating. But the study says a drop in alpha means the brain is working harder. Why is that?
Speaker 1:It's counterintuitive, but think of alpha waves as the brain's idling engine. When a specific region of the cortex is resting or unengaged, it synchronizes into a strong rhythmic alpha hum.
Speaker 2:Like a car in neutral.
Speaker 1:Exactly. When that brain region suddenly needs to process complex information, the synchronized hum breaks apart as individual neurons start firing rapidly for specific tasks. This is called event-related desynchronization. So a decrease in alpha power actually indicates a highly active, focused, and engaged brain region.
Speaker 2:Got it. Low alpha equals high brain effort. And what about theta waves?
Speaker 1:Theta waves, particularly in the frontal regions of the brain, are the signature of emotional and motivational salience. When theta spikes, it means the brain is highly engaged with a past that it finds emotionally relevant or socially rewarding. It means the brain fundamentally cares about what is happening.
Speaker 2:So EEG gives us the electrical map. But I saw they also used FNIRs, Functional Near Infrared Spectroscopy. From my understanding of the methodology, this isn't measuring electricity at all.
Speaker 1:it's measuring blood. Exactly. It uses near-infrared light shined through the skull to measure the concentration of oxygenated hemoglobin in the brain tissue. It relies on something called the bold contrast, blood oxygenation level dependent contrast. Because when a brain region is firing
Speaker 2:electrically, it's burning energy. So the body has to rush fresh oxygen-rich blood to that exact
Speaker 1:spot to refuel it. Yes. So EEG tells us when the electrical grid fires and FNIRs tells us exactly where the metabolic fuel is rushing to support that firing. Combined, they offer a highly accurate
Speaker 2:real-time map of brain engagement. Okay, the stage is set. We have high BS naturally dominant people. They're either crushing a rival or perfectly syncing with a teammate. What happens in their brains?
Speaker 1:What's fascinating here is that the results were strikingly asymmetrical, and they completely defy the social Darwinist narrative. When these high BA dominant subjects were in the cooperation condition, their left hemisphere, specifically the left prefrontal cortex, lit up intensely.
Speaker 2:Why the left prefrontal cortex? What does that region do?
Speaker 1:The left prefrontal cortex is heavily implicated in approach-related motivations, processing positive emotions, and complex social planning. It is essentially the neurological seat of social reward.
Speaker 2:Wow.
Speaker 1:During cooperation, the researchers saw a massive drop in alpha waves in this region, meaning the electrical activity was firing at maximum capacity. They saw a significant spike in theta waves, meaning the brain found the cooperative interaction impensely emotionally rewarding. And the FNIRS data showed a flood of oxygenated blood rushing to sustain this activity.
Speaker 2:But wait. These are high BAs, people. These are the competitive go-getters. Shouldn't their reward centers be lighting up more when they are successfully dominating their rival in the competitive condition?
Speaker 1:You would think so, but the data shows the exact opposite. The high BA subjects showed significantly greater left prefrontal activation during cooperation than they did during competition.
Speaker 2:That is staggering. Their brains literally found teamwork to be a bigger, juicier neurological reward than selfish victory.
Speaker 1:The evolutionary holobayant wiring supersedes the cultural conditioning. But the study goes even deeper because this neurological reward actually translated into physical performance.
Speaker 2:Yes, I wanted to ask about the actual scores in the game. did they just enjoy the cooperative vibe more, or did it make them better at the task?
Speaker 1:It made them quantifiably better. During the cooperative condition, the high BA subjects exhibited a significant decrease in their error rates, and their reaction times became faster. They were sharper, more focused, and more accurate when they were working with someone else.
Speaker 2:That's incredible.
Speaker 1:Furthermore, in the psychological surveys taken after the test, these subjects reported feeling a higher sense of social ranking and self-efficacy.
Speaker 2:Okay, let's connect the dots here because this looks like a biological feedback loop.
Speaker 1:It is a profound neurological loop, which the researchers call the reinforcing effect. It works like this. Because of our ancient evolutionary history as cooperative primates, achieving a joint goal triggers a massive social reward response in your left prefrontal cortex.
Speaker 2:Your brain gives you a hit of dopamine and says, good job, you are a valuable, secure member of the tribe.
Speaker 1:Exactly. That neurological reward makes you feel socially efficacious and secure. And here's the magic mechanism. That feeling of secure social ranking actually frees up your cognitive load. When you feel socially secure, your brain isn't wasting metabolic energy on anxiety, threat detection, or defending your status.
Speaker 2:So you're not distracted by surviving.
Speaker 1:Right. All of that freed up energy is redirected into the cognitive task at hand.
Speaker 2:So cooperation lowers the anxiety threshold, which physically allows the brain to process information faster. Teamwork literally makes us smarter.
Speaker 1:The empirical data strongly suggests that the human brain is intrinsically neurobiologically designed to perform at its peak during cooperative ventures, not competitive ones.
Speaker 2:It's like we have this incredibly advanced Ferrari engine inside our skulls. For 150 years since the Industrial Revolution, we've been told it runs best on diesel on ruthless competition. But we finally opened the hood and realized it was designed all along to run on high-octane teamwork.
Speaker 1:And as with any engine, when you force the wrong fuel into it for long enough, things start to violently break down.
Speaker 2:Which brings us out of the lab and back to the macro scale. Yeah. To the real world. We've established that life on Earth was built through symbiosis, and that our own brains require cooperation to function optimally.
Speaker 1:Right.
Speaker 2:So what happens when human society ignores this biology? What happens when our competitive economic systems take a sledgehammer to these ancient symbiotic bonds?
Speaker 1:The reality, as outlined in the final chapters of Roan Hooper's book, is deeply alarming. Because human impact on the planet right now isn't just a slight disturbance, it is an absolute pummeling. And when you break a holobiont, you don't just lose one species. The consequences cascade through the entire ecosystem.
Speaker 2:The sources gave some visceral examples of this unraveling. Let's look at coral reefs again. We established earlier that a coral reef is a strict holobiont, a partnership between the animal polyp and the microscopic zocanthellae algae that lives inside its tissue and provides its food via photosynthesis.
Speaker 1:A partnership that has survived for hundreds of millions of years, but it is highly sensitive to temperature. And because human industry is pumping massive amounts of greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, the oceans are absorbing that heat.
Speaker 2:And symbiosis breaks. But what is the actual mechanism of coral bleaching? Why does warm water cause the coral to turn white?
Speaker 1:It's a tragic biochemical reaction. When the water gets too warm, the photosynthesis process inside the algae goes into overdrive and malfunctions. Instead of just producing sugars, the stressed algae begin producing high levels of reactive oxygen species or free radicals.
Speaker 2:So the algae basically start leaking toxins into the coral tissue.
Speaker 1:Yes. The coral polyp detects this internal toxicity. To save its own life in the short term, the coral engages an immune response and violently expels the algae. It literally spits out its partner. Because the algae is what gives the coral its vibrant color, the coral turns stark white. That is coral bleaching.
Speaker 2:But without the algae, the coral has no food source, right? Exactly.
Speaker 1:It has bought itself a little time, but if the water doesn't cool down fast enough for the coral to reabsorb new algae, it slowly starves to death. The symbiosis breaks down, the structure collapses, and an entire marine ecosystem that supports thousands of other fish and invertebrate species is reduced to a barren skeletal graveyard.
Speaker 2:It's devastating. And this unraveling isn't just happening in the oceans. The sources highlighted a bizarre and tragic cascading collapse happening on the African savannah involving the whistling thorn acacia tree.
Speaker 1:This is a perfect example of how complex and fragile the entangled bank truly is. The acacia tree in East Africa is heavily preyed upon by mega herbivores, specifically elephants. An elephant can tear a mature acacia to shreds in minutes. To survive, the tree evolved an obligate symbiosis with a native species of ant.
Speaker 2:The tree grows these hollow, swollen thorns that act as perfect little ant barracks, and it secretes a sugary necker at the base of its leaves to feed them.
Speaker 1:In return, the ants act as an incredibly aggressive mercenary army. If an elephant approaches and begins pulling at the branches, the tree releases a chemical distress signal. The ants swarm out of the thorns by the tens of thousands. They swarm up the elephant's trunk, biting the incredibly sensitive mucosal lining inside.
Speaker 2:The elephants absolutely hate it, so they back off, leaving the tree alone. The tree feeds the ants, the ants defend the tree, but human disturbance has broken the chain.
Speaker 1:Human activity and habitat modification allowed an invasive species, the big-headed ant, to move into the territory. The big-headed ant is highly aggressive toward other insects. It attacks and annihilates the native ant colonies, taking over the acacia trees.
Speaker 2:But the invasive ant doesn't know the rules of the symbiosis.
Speaker 1:No. They don't respond to the tree's chemical alarm bells. When an elephant approaches, the invasive ants don't swarm the trink. They retreat and hide inside the thorns.
Speaker 2:So the bodyguard abandons its post.
Speaker 1:And the results are catastrophic. Without the protective swarm, the elephants are free to graze. They are currently decimating the acacia populations. But the cascade doesn't stop there. Because the trees are dying, the landscape is shifting from wooded savanna to open grassland. This changes the hunting dynamics for lions, which rely on the trees for ambush cover, which in turn alters the grazing patterns of zebras and gazelles. An entire ecosystem is being radically re-engineered because one microscopic chemical handshake between an ant and a tree was interrupted.
Speaker 2:And the most terrifying part is that we are actively doing this to our own food supply, the fertilizer prices. I had no idea about the biological mechanism behind this until I read Hooper's book.
Speaker 1:It is arguably the most consequential broken symbiosis on Earth right now. For millions of years, certain plants, specifically legumes like beans, peas and lentils, have utilized a symbiosis to get nitrogen. Nitrogen is essential for plant growth. But while the atmosphere is 78 percent nitrogen, plants cannot absorb it from the air.
Speaker 2:They need it fixed into the soil.
Speaker 1:Yes. So legumes form specialized nodules on their roots and invite rhizobia bacteria to live inside them. The bacteria have an enzyme that can break the strong bonds of atmospheric nitrogen, converting it into ammonia biological fertilizer. The plant provides sugars. The bacteria provides fertilizer.
Speaker 2:But then humans invented the Haber-Bosch process. We figured out how to synthetically pull nitrogen out of the air using massive amounts of heat, pressure, and fossil fuels to create chemical fertilizer.
Speaker 1:And we began dumping millions of tons of it onto agricultural soil. But plants are highly efficient. When a legume detects that the soil is already flooded with free synthetic nitrogen, it shuts down the symbiosis. Building root nodules and feeding bacteria costs the plant metabolic energy. Why pay for something you're getting for free?
Speaker 2:So if a plant stops communicating with the bacteria, it abandons a millions of years old evolutionary partnership.
Speaker 1:And we become entirely reliant on the chemical substitute. The runoff from that synthetic fertilizer washes into rivers and oceans, causing massive algae blooms that create dead zones where no marine life can survive. Furthermore, the industrial production of that fertilizer accounts for roughly 2% of all global carbon emissions. We broke a clean natural symbiosis and replaced it with a highly polluting artificial dependency.
Speaker 2:Okay, this is feeling incredibly heavy. We have a culture built on a misunderstanding of Darwin, a societal structure that runs counter to our neurological wiring, and an agricultural system that is actively destroying the cooperative bonds that sustain life.
Speaker 1:It's a lot to take in, yeah.
Speaker 2:I need a silver lining here. If our capacity for cooperation is our greatest neurological strength, can we use these massive, complex brains to fix what we've broken?
Speaker 1:We can. And this is where the cutting edge of science is offering genuine hope. If our survival is threatened by the breaking of natural symbiosis, our salvation might lie in the creation of synthetic symbiosis.
Speaker 2:Synthetic symbiosis. Like engineering brand new holobionts in a lab.
Speaker 1:Exactly. Bringing ecology, microbiology, and CRISPR gene editing together. The holy grail of agricultural science right now is solving that fertilizer problem.
Speaker 2:Because cereal crops, wheat, rice, maize, the crops that provide the vast majority of human calories, they don't have the legume trick. They can't form root nodules. They rely 100% on the synthetic fertilizer.
Speaker 1:But scientists are currently trying to program that symbiotic ability into cereal crops. They are identifying the complex genetic pathways that allow a legume to communicate with rhizobia bacteria, and they are attempting to engineer those pathways into the DNA of wheat and rice.
Speaker 2:Wait, if we can successfully engineer wheat to talk to nitrogen-fixing bacteria...
Speaker 1:Then the wheat would essentially fertilize itself. We could drastically reduce or even eliminate our reliance on synthetic nitrogen fertilizers. It would be one of the most monumental environmental breakthroughs in human history, achieved by actively designing a cooperative relationship.
Speaker 2:That is incredible. And the sources mention synthetic lichen, too, which is just a wonderful full circle moment back to those angry 19th century scientists.
Speaker 1:It is deeply poetic. Scientists are now designing programmable lichens from scratch. They take a strain of yeast where they have written custom synthetic DNA and they pair it in a matrix with a photosynthesizing algae. The algae acts as the solar panel, turning sunlight into sugar to feed the yeast. And the yeast is programmed to act as a biofactory.
Speaker 2:Producing what, though?
Speaker 1:Whatever we need it to. We could program the use to secrete vital pharmaceuticals, allowing us to grow medicines in remote locations using only sunlight and air. We could program them to produce clean biofuels. Or, perhaps most ambitiously, we could engineer massive mats of synthetic lichen designed specifically to pull excessive carbon dioxide straight out of the atmosphere, using engineered symbiosis to directly combat climate change.
Speaker 2:It is so wild to think about. We view ourselves as the absolute pinnacle of technology with our gene editing and synthetic biology. But nature has been running these cooperative systems for eons. The source material ended with a story about leafcutter ants in Brazil that I think perfectly encapsulates this.
Speaker 1:Yes, Hooper was walking through the rainforest at night and observed the leafcutter ants. Darwin actually saw the same species during his voyage on the beagle. For a long time, early naturalists saw these ants carrying millions of pieces of chewed up leaves deep underground, and they assumed the ants were just eating the leaves.
Speaker 2:But they aren't eating the leaves. The leaves are actually toxic to them.
Speaker 1:Right. They are taking the leaves down into massive subterranean climate-controlled chambers, and they are using the leaves as fertilizer for a specialized fundus.
Speaker 2:The ants are farmers.
Speaker 1:They are engaged in complex, large-scale agriculture, and they have been doing it for 50 million years before humans even existed. They cultivate the fungus garden, they weed out competing molds, And they even cultivate specific bacteria on their own bodies that produce antibiotics, like streptomyces, which they use to treat diseases in their fungal crop.
Speaker 2:So it's a three-way holobiont. The ant, the bacteria, and the fungus. The fungus breaks down the tough plant matter into edible proteins and sugars, and the ants eat the fungus. Without the fungus, the ants starve. Without the ants, the fungus is overtaken by mold and dies.
Speaker 1:It is a perfect, inextricably linked, cooperative society.
Speaker 2:We are just finally catching up to the ants. We are just now realizing through our climate crises and our neuroimaging machines that to survive, we need to farm the fungus, not just aggressively step on it.
Speaker 1:So what does this all mean for us?
Speaker 2:I think it means that the narrative of pure, ruthless Darwinian competition, the red in tooth and claw, is fundamentally incomplete. It is a story we told ourselves during the Industrial Revolution to justify a very mechanical, exploitative way of living. But from the two billion-year-old bacteria powering our cells, to the orchids in the soil, to the left prefrontal cortex firing up when we successfully help a teammate, we are built inside and out to work together.
Speaker 1:If we connect this back to the bigger picture, it demands a total re-evaluation of how we structure our world. We have built our global economies, our corporate structures, and our educational systems on the premise that humans are inherently selfish, competitive actors. But if our neurobiology proves that we process information faster, make fewer errors, and experience deeper physiological reward when we cooperate, then our societal structures are actively fighting against our own biology. We need to design systems that reflect our true nature as collaborative holobines.
Speaker 2:And that brings it right down to you listening to this deep dive right now. Maybe you are commuting to work, or maybe you are dealing with a stressful project. Next time you feel the pressure of a society that constantly tells you to hustle, to compete, to step on someone else to get ahead, remember what is actually happening inside your own brain.
Speaker 1:Exactly.
Speaker 2:Remember the drop in alpha waves and the spike in theta waves. Your brain is literally wired to reward you more for bringing someone along than for leaving them behind. Think about the fig wasp sacrificing everything for the tree. Think about the solar-powered sea slug. And think about the trillions of microbes keeping your body functioning at this exact second. You are quite literally never alone.
Speaker 1:That's a great point.
Speaker 2:So if you go through your day, ask yourself, who is the algae to your fungi? Who are you building a hullabion with today? Because the survival of the fittest, well, it might actually be the survival of the friendliest. False said. Thank you for joining us on this deep dive. We'll see you next time. Heliox is produced by Michelle Bruecker and Scott Bleakley. It features reviews of emerging research and ideas from leading thinkers curated under their creative direction with AI assistance for voice, imagery and composition. Systemic voices and illustrative images of people are representative tools, not depictions of specific individuals. Thanks for listening today. Four recurring narratives underlie every episode. Boundary dissolution, adaptive complexity, embodied knowledge and quantum like uncertainty. These aren't just philosophical musings, but frameworks for understanding our modern world. We hope you continue exploring our other episodes, responding to the content, and checking out our related articles at helioxpodcast.substack.com.
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