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Why is multicausality underappreciated in organismal biology?

3/22/2026

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 I kind of enjoy the raging debates that you often see in the literature in the broad fields of ecology and evolution. These debates can be useful, because folks feel strongly about the points that they are making, and so often marshal all of their resources and rhetorical skills to advance their position. Although I definitely see the benefits of these debates, I often feel that many of them boil down to one person saying that Factor A is the only important thing for explaining some pattern, and the other side is saying the same thing about Factor B. But this makes me wonder why organismal biologists would think that most patterns are driven by a single causal factor, when I think the universe is multivariate and multicausal.
             In my own little corner of organismal biology, I have noticed this pattern in studies of the evolution of viviparity in snakes and lizards. We don’t need to get into the weeds on this, but the dominant hypotheses for the evolution of viviparity is that viviparous species can regulate temperature of the eggs, while oviparous species cannot (squamates usually have eggs in burrows that are not attended). Hence, selection would favor egg retention, with an endpoint of viviparity. The evidence for this pattern is biogeographical- at high latitudes and elevations, which are cold, a high proportion of species are viviparous. The fly in the ointment is that myself and other scientists think that it is possible that other biophysical variables are important. In fact, most squamates species are found close to the equator, so species at high elevations in the tropics constitute a big chunk of viviparous squamates. After all, oxygen availability decreases with elevation, as does water vapor pressure, and of course both of these variables are correlated with temperature and with each other. Because these are so intercorrelated, isolating the effect of one variably is difficult statistically. However, most papers have stuck with temperature being the only variable that matters, frequently not even considering other variables. Why wouldn’t other variables matter as well? I think it is because some people must think that only one variable could matter, when it seems more plausible to me that whatever drives the evolution of viviparity must be multicausal.
             There are many other great examples, such as whether scaling exponents are 0.75 or 0.67 for the metabolic relationship with body size, because the scaling exponent indicates whether volumetric scaling or the fractal nature of nutrient delivery networks drives metabolic scaling. Yet it seems obvious to me that both factors can be important.
             ​So why do we have dogmatic arguments about which factor drives X, without a whole lot of nuance or room for other factors? I am not really sure, but there are several possibilities. Making the case that it is a single, simple factor behind some broad pattern may be appealing to our psychology. Writing papers with a single driver may be more appealing to high-impact journals. And I think it is natural, if you put it out there in your papers that Factor A is most important, that you defend that conclusion.
             But I don’t think that is the best way to do science. We should be happy to prove ourselves wrong. A paper is not a static statement of truth. It is a data-based document with our best explanation at the time, which is going to be limited by the tools and information available to us when we wrote the paper. And more generally, I think our literature would be better if we moved beyond simplistic discussions of whether factor A or B matter, and take a more holistic approach that acknowledges the potential of multicausality driving biological patterns.
             I should note that there are many counterexamples that do acknowledge complexity and multicausality, and I think most work in most fields is not dogmatic about a single causal driver of patterns. It is also probably true that those examples are harder to remember because they are not beset with drama and conflict. However, I think that this is a pervasive pattern in our literature, even if it is not in the majority.
             What do I think should happen in my ideal world? Well, I wish journals, particularly higher impact journals, would not be so biased towards “clean” stories. I think The American Naturalist is a good example of a journal that publishes impactful work, but also tends to acknowledge complexity and potential for multicausality. I think it would be better if (for example), it would not be seen as invalidating or a threat to previous work to acknowledge that things may be a bit more complicated than we originally thought. And I hope that scientists grow more comfortable with thinking about how many biological patterns may be caused by multiple drivers. 
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​You can pick your job, or your location, but it is hard to do both

3/15/2026

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It is no secret that the academic job market is highly competitive. I am at a large, research intensive university in south Florida, and even very specific positions attract dozens of applicants. Besides being highly competitive, academic positions are often very specific. While really large and prestigious institutions might put out a general call (that is still quite specific relative to the diversity of fields in biology) for an ecologist or an evolutionary biologist, most jobs are more specific: a microbial ecologist, or a plant ecologist, or evolutionary biologist who studies invertebrates. The combination of a highly competitive job market and the uncertain and specific positions that open in a particular university means that even highly competitive applicants can pick either the type of they want, or the location where they want to live, but only rarely both.
            I should hit the pause button here and explain that I don’t put a value judgement on prioritizing either the type of job you want or where you want to live. All of this depends on the specifics of your situation and how you want to live your life.  I am just trying to be descriptive, not prescriptive. I am also not defending the way that things are, but I don’t think that anything is likely to change any time soon.
            I think as soon as you acknowledge and understand this tradeoff, then it makes the strategy for applying for jobs much more straightforward. If you can only be happy in the Bay area in northern California, you will need to be open to academic positions beyond the tenure track, and probably non-academic positions as well. On the other hand, if your primary goal is to be a tenure-track faculty member, you should apply broadly, irrespective of the location of the position, which will maximize your chances of getting the kind of job you want.
            By the way, I think this sort of logic applies to any type of specialized job. If you want a job in a zoo, or you want to work for the National Park Service, you also are unlikely to be able to have a great degree of control over the location of your job. Of course, there are many jobs (nurse, doctor, lawyer, accountant) that can be relatively easy to transfer between locations (at least relative to jobs in academia).
            As with many things, there is a sort of middle ground. I think you can perhaps focus on a particular region, or try to avoid a region, and still be successful, particularly if you have a competitive application. For example, while I grew up in the corn belt of the Midwest in Iowa, I don’t particularly like cold weather. So while I applied to jobs across the US, I focused on jobs in the southern third of the country. Some regions (e.g., the West Coast, the Northeast, the Midwest, the Southeast) have a ton of schools, and you would be more likely to be successful in focusing on those areas than on a single city or state.
            Finally, I think it is a good idea to try and be open minded (if possible given your circumstances) about where you would be willing to live. Way back in 2014 when I was first on the job market, I got interviews at many places (rural Kansas, rural Illinois, rural Pennsylvania, Jackson, Mississippi) that would not have been at the top of my list of places that I wanted to live. However, in each case, I met amazing people doing good work in those schools, and I was usually surprised by how much I liked the town and the area. So if there is a chance you might be willing to live somewhere that is not your top choice, go ahead and apply, and you might be surprised at how much you end up liking the institution and the area. 
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What is the most stressful part of an academic career in science?

3/7/2026

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There is no doubt that academia is stressful for many folks. And while not all scientists are in academia, almost all will have academic training at the undergraduate, M.S., or PhD. level. So what is driving the stress in academia? Well, there are many candidate factors- high to unrealistic expectations, a competitive culture, lots of critical external evaluations, and uncertainty. I think anxiety is an important factor for many people in what kind of jobs they want and whether they want to stick with science.
 
            One thing that I wanted to mention is that I don’t know that academia is more stressful than other careers that are highly competitive and involve years of training. I would have to imagine that vet med school, or med school, or law school, are just as stressful or more stressful than grad school in the sciences, at least for most folks. I suspect that competition, and the accompanying uncertainty, is probably always going to be a generator of stress.
 
            My own experience with stress in academia might be a bit atypical, because I rarely feel much in the way of stress, and I struggle to be aware of when I might feel stressed. I don’t think I am consciously suppressing anything, but I just don’t seem to notice that I am stressed out unless something makes it obvious. As an example, I am pretty sure that I was at my most stressed out when I was a postdoc, particularly during the final year or two when I was on the job market. I recall feeling busy, but not particularly stressed. However, during this period, I would sleepwalk regularly, enough so that it was a joke between my wife and I. I had not sleepwalked as an adult before, and have not since. I have to imagine it was stress, driven by busyness and uncertainty at this transitional period in my life.
 
            I was curious about how typical it was to feel high stress at the postdoc stage, so I asked about a dozen of my friends in science. These folks have positions ranging from working for the federal government to professors at liberal arts colleges. This is of course not a random sample, but it is a bit of a sampling of when mid-career folks like me have felt the most stress.
 

            Almost everyone I talked to (10/12) felt the most stressed out at the end of the PhD and during their next position, whether it was as a postdoc, adjunct lecturer, assistant professor, or other professional position. The two folks who were not most stressed during this period felt the most stress either as a pre- or post-tenure faculty.
 

            The most straightforward interpretation of this pattern is probably that uncertainty and contingency are major generators of stress and anxiety. While I was having some success getting interviews and offers during my “big” year for applying for a permanent faculty position, there was also a massive amount of uncertainty. The offers kind of dribbled in, and I had to turn down okay offers before I had a better offer a couple of times, which was a gamble that I was pretty nervous to take. In addition, while my wife is not an academic, there was some uncertainty around whether she would have a job when we moved. And I also think just not knowing where you will be for the next substantial chunk of time can be stressful.
 

            ​Beyond contingency, I think the other major factor is if the job/school/advisor is a bad fit, or if you end up working for toxic person. At least a quarter of the people who I spoke with had a difficult boss during their most stressful period. Clearly, being required to work with someone who you don’t click with, or someone who is a jerk, would spark anxiety, particularly if they control your paycheck and your future.
 
            ​I don’t know that any of the above will necessarily help anybody who is in a stressful period. I think in most careers there will be times of high stress. If you have an anxious personality, I suppose it might be good to be prepared for the stressful times, and it most likely will be during the end of the PhD and beginning of the postdoc. I have a bunch of friends who saw mental health professionals and took anti-anxiety meds to make it through the difficult times, and I think that could be a great way to be prepared for the tough times. If the stress is due to something you can change (e.g., a toxic mentor), then it might be in your best interests to pivot to a different lab or project. But mainly I just wanted to convey that almost everyone experiences these periods of high stress during an academic job, and the experience of myself and my network is that these periods do not last forever, and you can often come out the other side more resilient and hopefully empathetic with others who are having a tough time. 
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    Christian L. Cox is faculty at Florida International University. 

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