Nobel Prize

Latest news on nobel prize

Boehlert: The media myth: Detroit's $70-an-hour autoworker

It's been one week since New York Times financial columnist Andrew Ross Sorkin wrote that at General Motors, "the average worker was paid about $70 an hour, including health care and pension costs." The nugget was part of a column in which Sorkin argued that the government should not bail out the ailing Big Three automakers and that they instead should embrace bankruptcy. Sorkin's point was that labor costs were out of control -- workers enjoyed "gold-plated benefits" -- and that during bankruptcy, the auto companies could address those runaway wages. As I mentioned, it's been one week since the column appeared, which seems like plenty of time for Sorkin and the Times to correct the misleading $70-an-hour claim. But to date, there's been no clarification from the newspaper of record or from Sorkin himself. And he isn't alone. Appearing on NPR last week, Times senior business correspondent Micheline Maynard told listeners that the "hourly wage" of Detroit's union autoworkers had been driven up "towards $80 an hour." Somebody at the Times needs to clarify the record, because the average United Auto Workers member is not paid $80 an hour. Or even $70. Not even close. Yet (thanks to the Times?) the issue has become a central talking point in the unfolding national debate about the future of America's automotive industry. Indeed, that $70-an-hour meme, actively promoted by the anti-union conservative media, has ricocheted around the traditional press as well as the political landscape, where it was picked up by congressional critics last week during hearings and used to argue against aiding GM, Ford, and Chrysler. For the record, I'm not from Michigan, and I don't have friends or family members who work in the auto or auto-supply business. And honestly, I think there are compelling arguments on both sides of the question about whether to bail out the U.S. auto industry. So I'm genuinely torn on the issue. But what's obvious to me is that it's harmful to public discourse when the press, on such a central issue facing our country, fails to clearly state the facts and instead perpetuates misinformation with sloppy reporting -- reporting that seems to hold blue-collar workers to a different standard than their white-collar counterparts. Last week, Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid (D-NV) announced that automotive executives should return to Washington in coming weeks to "make their case, to the Congress and the American people," for a federal bailout. And as Times columnist and Nobel Prize winner for economics Paul Krugman wrote recently, "[M]aybe letting the auto companies die is the right decision, even though an auto industry collapse would be a huge blow to an already slumping economy. But it's a decision that should be taken carefully" [emphasis added]. But having the media echo conservative misinformation and bandy about urban-myth salary figures about allegedly high-on-the-hog GM workers does not constitute a careful review of the facts. Question: Is the press just being sloppy on this issue of supposedly pampered autoworkers, or are there other elements in play? Because honestly, I've had trouble escaping the not-very-subtle elitist, get-a-load-of-this tone that has run through the media's misinformation on the topic; i.e., "These autoworkers get paid that?!" Answer: No, they don't, so please stop reporting it. (And why has the press been so reticent to note that Big Three autoworkers recently made significant concessions to management?) And it's funny, because I don't remember hearing much coverage in the press about AIG workers' six- and seven-figure salaries when the U.S. government announced it was bailing out the insurance giant. And I haven't seen or heard a single press reference to the annual salaries pocketed by Citigroup employees, even though the government has moved in quickly to bail the banking giant out of a hole its executives dug. As Rep. Barney Frank (D-MA) pointed out during congressional hearings last week, "There is apparently a cultural condition that's more ready to accept aid to a white-collar industry than the blue-collar industry, and that has to be confronted." That cultural condition seems to extend to, and be embraced by, today's white-collar press corps. Make no mistake: The $70-an-hour claim represents a classic case of conservative misinformation. It's also a very dangerous one. The falsehood about autoworkers is being spread at a crucial time, when a make-or-break public debate is taking place, a debate that could affect millions of American workers. "Lavish contracts granted to the United Auto Workers, for instance, put GM on the hook for more than $70 an hour per worker." [New York Post] "The United Auto Workers are keen on saving their jobs and the $70-an-hour paychecks that go with them." [National Review] "[T]here's no reason that a UAW worker should get total compensation of $70 an hour when the average American only makes about $25 an hour in total compensation." [James Gattuso, from the conservative Heritage Foundation, appearing on MSNBC] "Given that we're in tough economic times, it's hard for the average American to muster a lot of sympathy for workers at the Big 3 automakers when all of the companies pay out over $70 per hour in wages, pension and health care benefits." [Right Wing News] "The bailout as proposed today is a bailout of the UAW; it's not the auto industry. A Big Three worker in Detroit makes $73 an hour if you include all the benefits." [Conservative columnist Charles Krauthammer, appearing on the syndicated television show Inside Washington] "Companies at which union workers make $71 an hour in wages and benefits -- compared to just $47 an hour at Toyota's U.S. plants -- are not going to be saved by a $25 billion government check." [Former House Speaker Newt Gingrich, writing at Human Events Online] "Big Three union workers, with their gold-plated health care plans, make about $73 an hour in total compensation." [Conservative columnist Amanda Carpenter at Townhall.com] "When you're paying $73.73 an hour to those people with salary and benefits and your competition is paying $48 to its workers, you're going to get your butt kicked in the marketplace unfortunately." [Conservative radio host Lars Larson] "The average Detroit autoworker makes more than $100K each year." [On-screen Fox News graphic] Let's note that any suggestion in the press that most UAW workers earn, or are paid, $70 an hour is spectacularly dishonest. Period. (As one Daily Kos diarist pointed out last week, according to the UAW website, the base pay for a worker in a UAW plant is about $28 an hour.) What that $70 figure (or $73) actually represents is what it costs GM in total labor expenses, on an hourly basis, to manufacture autos. Do you see that there's a big distinction? General Motors doles out $70 an hour in overall labor costs to manufacture cars. But individual employees don't get paid $70 an hour to make cars. (The discrepancy between costs and wages is explained by additional benefits, pension fees, and health-care costs GM pays out to current and retired employees.) Simply put, GM's labor costs are not synonymous with hourly wages earned by UAW employees. Many in the press have casually used the two interchangeably. But they're not. Felix Salmon at Portfolio did perhaps the best job explaining the misinformation at play: The average GM assembly-line worker makes about $28 per hour in wages, and I can assure you that GM is not paying $42 an hour in health insurance and pension plan contributions. Rather, the $70 per hour figure (or $73 an hour, or whatever) is a ridiculous number obtained by adding up GM's total labor, health, and pension costs, and then dividing by the total number of hours worked. In other words, it includes all the healthcare and retirement costs of retired workers. [emphasis in original] Indeed, according to this Associated Press report, a chunk of GM's $70-an-hour labor costs goes toward paying current retirees' pensions and health-care coverage. In other words, that's money that's not going to end up in the pocket of any autoworker when he cashes his paycheck this week. That's money GM has to set aside in order to pay off costs associated with workers already in retirement. That money has absolutely nothing to do with calculating the hourly wage of a full-time UAW employee today. None. So, no, UAW workers don't make $70 an hour even if you factor in benefits, because a portion of those benefits are going to people who retired years ago. Nonetheless, that formulation (wages+benefits=$70 an hour) has been widespread. That's what Sorkin did in his Times column: "The average worker was paid about $70 an hour, including health care and pension costs." Not only is that inaccurate, but there's also a problem in terms of perception. It's true that autoworkers don't earn annual salaries and that when calculating hourly wages, the cost of benefits paid directly to the worker can be included. But some media outlets have been so casual and sloppy in presenting the facts that news consumers are left with the false impression that GM workers pocket $70 an hour. That's not true, and it seems some in the press are doing very little to correct that misperception. For instance, BusinessWeek also used the same convoluted language: "Older UAW members make more than $70 per hour in combined wages and benefits." Dallas Morning News columnist Cheryl Hall did it, too: "GM's average worker makes $78.21 an hour in wages and benefits." Why does the press use that convoluted equation when calculating how much autoworkers supposedly make? I have a hunch it's because that $70 an hour is a real eyepopper. It makes a very deep impression within the space of just a few words. I'm sure everybody understood the $70-an-hour implication in Sorkin's column, especially since he also lamented the "gold-plated benefits" UAW workers enjoyed. (They were "off the charts," he stressed.) And since it's harder to back up a claim of gold-plated benefits by citing the actual hourly wage of UAW workers ($28), Sorkin went with the $70 figure, along with completely nebulous language about "health care and pension costs." The takeaway from Sorkin's column was quite clear: GM is mismanaged, and its workers are wildly overpaid. By the way, here's the right way to cover the issue: In a November 18 column, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch's David Nicklaus wrote that the Big Three "need to bring their labor costs, which average $72 an hour, closer to the Honda or Toyota level of about $45." Note how Nicklaus never implied that labors costs equaled take-home wages. Why? Because they don't. (And kudos to Washington Post business columnist Steven Pearlstein, who refuses to use the $70-an-hour figure because it's so misleading.) How much money GM's workers make is certainly relevant when discussing the unfolding automotive crisis. But the press should stop confusing the issue, and tainting the perceptions of news consumers, by casually suggesting that $70-an-hour labor costs represent what UAW workers pocket every 60 minutes. That's misleading and dishonest. And that's why it's still not too late for Sorkin and the Times to correct the record.

Here Comes Everybody Review

In 1937, Ronald Coase answered one of the most perplexing questions in economics: if markets are so great, why do organizations exist? Why don't people just buy and sell their own services in a market instead? Coase, who won the 1991 Nobel Prize in Economics, answered the question by noting a market's transaction costs: buyers and sellers need to find...

Is 41 too late to become a father?

Last night I ate a large bowl of beetroot from my garden. This morning my urine is the colour of rosé wine and I'm worried that my semen might have taken on a similar hue. The colour of my semen is a concern because someone will be studying it in a short while. I'm considering this while sitting in the top floor 'specimen room' of the London Fertility Centre on Harley Street. Later on, when I mention where I've been to friends and colleagues they seem really interested in the interior design details of a room set aside for masturbation. So if you're planning one, here's some decorating tips. The room is on the second floor and it has two notices on its door: one saying 'Quiet Please' (in case passers-by are inclined to cheer or clap, I guess) and a sliding sign with 'Vacant/Occupied' options - I've opted for 'occupied' although I'm not, so far. Inside, the room is about 6ft x 12ft and painted in various pale non-colours. It is equipped with an ensuite shower, light-green vinyl-covered daybed and a fudge-coloured bathroom suite (including bidet). There is a sash window - which isn't overlooked. The atmosphere is more Carry On than Casualty. On one side of the sink there is a small empty plastic beaker (with my name on it). On the other a DVD player, screen and a remote. I consider all the hands that have touched the remote. Using one of the many tissues provided I pick it up and inspect it; it appears to be clean. The television doesn't show any of the normal channels.I'm here because I'm concerned about my sperm. Not that they might be beetroot coloured, but rather that they might not be fit for purpose. That they might not be as athletic, plentiful and perfectly formed as they need to be. I'm 41 and childless, and although I'm not involved in a 'trying-for-a-baby'-type scenario I've been reading the papers and the news for fortysomething men and their sperm isn't great.'Scientists warn that biological clock affects male fertility' warned the Guardian in July - well, scientists are always saying stuff aren't they? 'Risk of miscarriage soars once the father reaches 35' (Daily Mail) - that sounds worrying. 'Blokes going infertile aged 35' (Sun). Must have sex, pronto! The papers were all reporting in their own particular ways on the research of Dr Stephanie Belloc from the Eylau Centre for Assisted Reproduction in Paris. Dr Belloc had studied the records of 12,000 couples who visited her clinic and separated out the influence of the mother's and father's ages on the chances of conception and miscarriage. Belloc and her team found that women whose partners were 35 or older had more miscarriages than those who were with younger men, regardless of their own age. The risk of miscarriage was on average 16.7 per cent when the men were aged 30-34, but it doubled to 33 per cent in men over 40. Moreover, her research showed that men's ages also affected pregnancy rates, which were lower in the over-40s. As the Mirror summed it up, 'Over-35? You're a dad loss.'I can remember ridiculing my own father for being 40, so how did I end up childless at 41? To start with I went to university and became middle-class. It seems only people from council estates and people who own estates have kids young these days. The middle classes are too busy in their twenties establishing careers, climbing the property ladder and going on snowboarding holidays.Although lack of one doesn't stop some people, I feel you need to be in a reasonably stable relationship before having kids - and I haven't been in one of those of late. But of late, many of my peers are reproducing, some are already on to their third. Even the ones who had drug problems are conceiving and, meanwhile, gay friends are cutting breeding deals with lesbians. I wonder if time is running out.It's an easy thought to have because I can't act on it, but sometimes I think I should have had some children in my twenties. I had more energy and didn't have many material comforts to give up or much of a lifestyle to compromise. I'd be packing them off to university around now, thumbing sports car brochures and thinking about buying a peach farm in Spain. Frankly, I can't remember that much of my twenties, so maybe it would have put this decade of void to good use. I don't recall any of my peers having kids; maybe it was a hangover from the Aids era - people seemed pretty conscientious about birth control, there were no 'accidents'. So now, at 41, I wonder if I've skipped the whole kids thing. I seem to be developing the hobbies and pastimes of a senior citizen - golf, growing beetroot, buffing my classic car. But the reality is I've got 19 years until I qualify for my bus pass - which is just enough time to raise at least one human being. So should I be worried about or believe in the 'male biological clock'?Back in 2001, Professor Dolores Malaspina, of Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons, concluded that men aged 50 or over are three times more likely to father a child with schizophrenia compared with men of 25 or under. Four years later, epidemiologist Jorn Olsen at the University of California, Los Angeles, found a fourfold rise in Down's syndrome among babies born to men aged 50 and older. And in 2006 scientists from the Institute of Psychiatry at King's College, London and Mount Sinai School of Medicine in New York found that children born to fathers aged 40 and over were nearly six times more likely to suffer from autism than those with a father under 30. Meanwhile, other researchers have suggested patterns between older fathers and increased chances of bipolar disorder, dwarfism and Apert syndrome - whose unlucky sufferers have a malformed skull and webbed hands and feet, among other disfigurements. A report in 2006 even suggested 'a modest effect of advanced paternal age on the Apgar score'. And after finding out what an Apgar score is I now know this to be less than good. The evidence appeared to be stacking up.Yet are these findings as scary as they sound? Dr Belloc's sample was made up entirely of couples presenting for infertility treatment. 'It is not evident that we can extrapolate these conclusions to a fertile population,' she tells me. And many of the incidences in the other studies are minute; so a fivefold increase is still only a five-times-minute chance of some disorder or other. Moreover, these studies only show patterns, rather than direct causal links - finding a direct link would probably require examining DNA at a detail beyond most researchers' budgets or ability. Some commentators have speculated that if a man first becomes a father in his forties or fifties that may indicate he has had trouble forming relationships earlier in his life, which may mean in a mild, undiagnosed kind of way he's a carrier of problems like bipolar disorder or autism which have a genetic element - so his paternal age is irrelevant to the outcome.Which isn't exactly comforting, but it suggests the 'male biological clock' doesn't tick as loudly as the headlines suggest. For Dr Allan Pacey, senior lecturer in andrology at Sheffield University, the clock is nothing more than ageing. As you grow older, you lose a bit of hair and experience the odd 'senior moment', so you shouldn't be surprised if your sperm isn't as sprightly as it used to be. 'In terms of numbers it's the same, but what tends to happen is that the sperm isn't as good.' If their biological clock is ticking, men are pretty deaf to it. The age of fatherhood is creeping up: the latest figures from the Office of National Statistics show that the average age of married fathers rose from 29.1 in 1971 to 34.1 in 2003 - getting close to the 35-year point where some of the problems are alleged to kick in. I ask Dr Pacey if this is a worrying trend. 'The problem is couples are waiting until they are older. To wait until the woman is approaching 40 is the wrong time to be starting, and that will be exasperated by any problem that he has due to ageing.' Dr Pacey's advice to me is not to hang about: 'You will be more successful having a child naturally at an earlier age; it will be cheaper for you and it will be much more fun than waiting until you're well into your forties, going to an infertility clinic and having it done artificially. What we're finding are lots of people attending infertility clinics in their forties who would have succeeded in getting pregnant at 25. Rather than waiting for technology to sort it out, if you are in a position to have children early, then go ahead and do it.'What Dr Pacey and others are quick to point out is that there's definitely a female biological clock. Women are born with a finite number of eggs and at some point they will run out. According to the Human Fertilisation and Embryology Authority (HFEA), a woman is half as fertile at 35 as she is at 25, and half as fertile again at 40.You might be thinking, 'Why is he bothering to spell that out, everyone knows that?' Well, before researching this piece I was only vaguely aware of those blunt facts, but, more surprisingly, when chatting to single and married thirtysomething childless women about this article they start saying things like: 'My gran had my mother at 45,' 'What about Madonna?' or, most biologically incorrect: 'I'm not ready yet.' They seemed about as informed as I was. 'With the Madonnas and all the rest who seem to have children quite naturally, no one mentions IVF or egg donors, and celebrity miscarriages don't make the pages of Heat,' says Dr Pacey. 'This silence reinforces the myth that these miracle births happen, when often there's a medical intervention.' And IVF isn't a safety net: according to the HFEA, IVF has only a 12 per cent success rate for a 40-year-old woman. And it will cost you: the NHS, on the advice of the National Institute of Clinical Excellence (Nice), doesn't fund IVF for women over 40 because of the low success rate. The average cost of a cycle is £4,000-£8,000. Is it chauvinistic to question the sense of delaying having kids for the sake of a career if you're going to spend most of the extra income on fertility treatment?However it's not only career building that is nudging the maternal age up; those commitment-phobic, nappy-changing-averse partners make a contribution, too - people like me. One could argue that this male biological clock business is providing men with another excuse to avoid having kids - we move from 'I'm not ready yet' to 'It's too dangerous now' in the time it takes to power up a Nintendo Wii. Or maybe you could blame the introduction of Viagra - which has engendered the idea that men can stay virile forever, so why rush? - as most men think the difference between virility and fertility is latex thin. But if you're looking for something that's really obscuring the hands of the male biological clock, look to famous people. When it comes to fertility, biology tells us one thing, but celebrities tell us another: ie, no matter how superannuated you are, getting your girlfriend up the duff is child's play. Middle-aged famous fellas love a baby shower. Dr Pacey isn't impressed: 'The John Humphrys thing does distort the picture. There'll be lots of men who will read this piece and say, "I was 50 and I had a child," and it's really difficult to argue against that because they do, but statistically you are less likely to succeed and more likely to have problems. For the individual who has been successful it will seem stupid that I'm saying that, but for every 50-year-old father there'll be 10 times more thinking, "I had a lot of problems."'Even if you, your sperm and your wife from a younger generation manage to buck the stats, there are other non-bio reasons against fathering kids late. Most obviously you might die before they graduate - if you're 65 now, on average you'll die at 82 - although for how much longer you will be capable of having a kick-about, helping them with their homework or visiting the lavatory without their assistance isn't recorded. And while it's embarrassing to be mistaken occasionally for their grandfather, it's thoughtless not to meet your grandchildren.Am I being too hard on the older dad? I call Charlie Lewis, professor of family and developmental psychology at Lancaster University. Should we give middle-aged men the snip? 'Some men claim to be better fathers when older, but I don't see this in the majority of men. I find them saying, "I'm clapped out, I've done my bit at work, I've provided a house and comfortable living, now let me vegetate." They think it's their right to sit in front of the telly and not take part in any interaction. It's almost autistic. Older fathers tend to do less of the stereotypical activities than younger fathers do, less childcare and less kicking footballs - for fear of snapping a tendon. They think, "I'm much too old for this."'Surprisingly, Lewis is more relaxed about the dying thing. 'I don't want to put fathers down, but if you look at the majority of evidence on loss, it does point to losing a mother before 11 being more predictive of later social/psycho disorders than losing a father. These effects are most often caused by the child absorbing the surviving partner's grief. So if the mother can manage the grieving process, the predictable death of an older father needn't be a life-changing trauma.'Dads dead or alive, we should be more concerned about the kids, says Lewis. 'You do get studies that say old dads feel closer to their kids, but I'm not aware that kids feel closer to their older fathers.'I wonder if I would become one of these dead-beat, distant dads. I like to think not. I don't quite understand how that could happen. What kind of an individual would tune into a Top Gear repeat rather than read to their child or even relieve them of a shitty nappy? Maybe I'm being naive. I talk to some dad friends.Gary, 45, first became a father when he was 23, but then remarried and had three more children, the oldest of whom is five. Would he like to compare and contrast? 'Obviously becoming a father young was a bit of a shock, it made me grow up quickly. I'm not sure at that age if you're responsible enough to look after yourself let alone a little child.' So how is it second time around: does older dad mean better dad? 'When my second wife first wanted children I did have slight panic attacks, because I had this memory of it being a total whirlwind, but this time it's completely different, it doesn't seem half as stressful as when I was in my twenties.' Gary says this isn't just because he's been a parent before - 'No, it's mainly because I'm more grown-up, more patient, more financially settled. I'm far more chilled out this time around.' So you'd advise an older option? 'It's better to have children at a later date, but myself, I'm worried about getting older. First time round I was one of the youngest parents in the playground; now I'm one of the oldest. My youngest is 10 months, so I'll be at retirement or grandfather age in her late teens. You hope to be running around in the park, doing those things that children want you to do and provide as parents. Hopefully I'll be one of those who manages it, but I will have to wait and see.'The energy issue: I've heard this raised before. People talk about the nuclear-like amounts of energy you need to bring up a child, but I suspect it's similar to the stamina needed to squire a girlfriend half your age. Because down-ageing your just-broody girlfriends each time they start describing a new frock as 'a bit maternity' is really the only alternative to producing offspring.Jonathan, 49, had two sons when he was 23 and 27. He says the early months were 'terrifying', and both he and his girlfriend had to abandon their career plans: 'Our embryonic lives together as a couple were entirely transformed into a fully fledged proper adult relationship. And we didn't have much money - I even used to scavenge skips for firewood.' But for all the foraging the relatively small age difference means he's closer to his kids. 'We can go to the cinema together, appreciate some of the same music, go out for a beer, they call me by my first name.' He got divorced and, a couple of years ago, he remarried. He isn't keen to become a father again: 'I'm interested in the relationship with my wife rather than with anyone else. The relationship I have with my children is established, I like the marriage and lifestyle we have, and because of my previous experience I can see how that could be compromised.' What is his advice for someone like me, thinking of becoming a father in my forties? 'I think, you're not going to get a lot of sleep. And by the time you're my age, when you take your kids to a restaurant they'll be running around banging their heads, stealing food, whereas I'll be discussing the amount of oak in the Sauvignon with mine. I'd think about that quite carefully.'So that's what I should have done. Bred early. Guess there's no point in crying over spilled, er, milk.The trouble with this when-to-procreate business is it's personal. Apologies, it's not much of an insight but everyone is different. They earn lots of money, earn not much money, like kids, don't like kids, have live-in help, are still looking for The One, are given a babies-or-else ultimatum by their partners, had a shit childhood themselves, don't feel the need to have babies to preserve their relationship, are worried they'll pass on a condition, feel they've established their career, don't want a career, haven't been to Patagonia yet - the list of caveats and factors that make it the 'right time' for someone is as long as the waiting list for a Doctor Who Dalek Electronic Voice Changer Helmet.So, to borrow a phrase from a Dragon: 'Let me tell you where I am.' For me, I think 45 is the cut-off. For biological reasons - you can't donate sperm past 45 - there must be something in those scary reports. And financially, I'd like to retire on time, if indeed I'm lucky enough to still have a career by then. Which doesn't give me much time, I guess, to meet someone, fall in love, imagine being with this person for the foreseeable future - if that's not over-romantic, delusional, too-much-like-a-John-Cusack-movie. But I'm getting ahead of myself: maybe I'm firing blanks anyhow.For the 20-minute wait while my sperm is being tested, I chat to Dr Magdy Asaad, clinical director, in his office about the problems with semen. Mine is being tested for volume, viscosity, concentration, mobility, morphology and antibodies. Dr Asaad uses the gold standard WHO criteria which are surprisingly generous - only 50 per cent of your sperm needs to move, for instance, and you're allowed up to 80 per cent with an abnormal form, such as funny-shaped heads or two tails, 'because 20 per cent of 20m is considered enough, it's a lot of sperm,' Dr Asaad chuckles.I'm curious: do anxious men often pop in on their own for a lunchtime sperm test, check everything is wriggling right? 'It's not common, but when men present on their own, it's normally a problem with their ability to have an erection or ejaculation.'Well as you can tell I have no problems in that area, I say.'But some men don't like to give a sample,' he continues. 'They find all kinds of excuses: maybe they are worried it will not be good, or that it's an artificial thing, to press a button [is he talking about the remote control?]. I don't know how it was for you, I'm not asking. Sometimes a gentleman will have difficulty preparing manually.' Unbelievable.The walls and desk of the doctor's office are smothered with framed photographs of beaming parents with their children - patients he's helped to fashion a bundle of joy for over the years. In your experience, I ask Dr Asaad, when is a good age for procreation? 'You're mature enough by your late twenties, early thirties, responsible enough, you probably have a job, a partner. I don't think it's a very serious problem waiting to 40-45, but beyond that you have to think about time with the child.'With that, Dr Asaad prints off a piece of A4 containing all my sperm's vital statistics. 'It's a good sample,' he says, 'so you're all right.' I'll spare you the details.On one hand this is a relief, but on the other it means I've no alibi, no excuses, I'm ready to breed. All I need now is a woman.Paternity frights: ten bus-pass fathersJulio Iglesias Sr, a dad at 89Nobody could accuse the gynaecologist father of Julio and grandfather of Enrique, and who was head of a Madrid family-planning unit, of not taking his work home with him. After having two children with his first wife, he remarried and, at 89, when his wife was 40, produced another son. Barely out of the maternity ward, Ronna signed up for IVF and within a few months was pregnant again. Tragically, filling a test-tube turned out to be the former Franco supporter's last significant act: two months later he was muerto. His daughter Ruth was born posthumously seven months later in July 2006. Dad-speak: 'At my age, a child is marvellous. I felt just like Abraham. It was an act of generosity towards her [Ronna]. I leave her part of my blood, of my life.'Saul Bellow, a dad at 84The Nobel Prize-winning novelist had four children: three sons with his first three wives, and a daughter, Naomi-Rose, with his 41-year-old fifth wife. He died when she was five, in 2005. Writing two months after his death, one of his sons, Adam, whose mother Bellow left when he was two, recalled 'a fond but highly attenuated bond with a frequently distracted, often absent and much older father.'Dad-speak: 'Well, my wife won't be lonely when I die. She'll have somebody'Anthony Quinn, a dad at 81The star of more than 100 movies, including Zorba the Greek and The Guns of Navarone, enjoyed procreating. He had five children with his first wife Katherine, the daughter of Cecil B DeMille, three with the second, then at the age of 81, he got his 29-year-old secretary pregnant, married her and had two children. The double Oscar-winner also squeezed in three more children with women he wasn't married to before he died in 2001. Dad-speak: [of his penultimate child] 'She's beautiful, she looks like me'Rupert Murdoch, a dad at 72The Australian-American global media mogul (real first name Keith) has been married three times. He produced one child with the first and three (Elizabeth, James and Lachlan) during a 31-year marriage to the second. Seventeen days after the $1.2bn divorce, the Dirty Digger married former photographic model Deng Wendi (she transposed her names post nuptials), a 30-year-old executive at his Asian Star TV channel. They have two children, the most recent in July 2003. Dad-speak: 'All my children will be treated equally'Des O'Connor, a dad at 72The former Countdown host has been married four times and has four grown-up daughters. His current wife, the 37-years-younger singer/dancer Jodie, who he met in 1990, when they were doing panto together, provided him with a son in September 2004. Dad-speak: 'When the baby was born the odd comment was made about my age, but I plan to play football with Adam'Luciano Pavarotti, a dad at 67The well-upholstered tenor had three daughters with his first wife, who he stayed with for 35 years. Then, in 1996, he left her for his secretary, Nicoletta - 36 years his junior. In 2003 she gave birth to twins, another daughter and a son; tragically, the latter was stillborn. 'The King of the High Cs' died after a long battle with pancreatic cancer just before his youngest daughter's fifth birthday. Dad-speak: 'I never imagined that at this time of life I would have another child. But I met Nicoletta, and she is young'Warren Beatty, a dad at 62After years of womanising (Natalie Wood, Julie Christie, Isabelle Adjani, Vivien Leigh, Cher, Madonna, Carly Simon, Barbra Streisand, Britt Ekland, Diane Keaton, Mary Tyler Moore, Janice Dickinson and Faye Dunaway to name a few) he plumped for Annette Bening. They've had four kids, the latest of whom was born in 2000. I think we can assume fatherhood has mellowed Warren. Dad-speak: 'We're fortunate to have a big house'Rod Stewart, a dad at 60The rooster-haired senior citizen has been breeding for 41 years. He's had seven children by five different women, although modest Rod often downgrades to six offspring, passing over his first, who was put up for adoption: 'You can count her if you want. I try not to,' he once said. Penny Lancaster provided him with his sixth/seventh, Alastair, in 2005. According to his brother Don, Rod prefers to leave Alastair's nappy-changing and feeding to the hired help. Unperturbed, 37-year-old Penny has dropped heavy hints she'd like a second with the 63-year-old Celtic fan.Dad-speak: 'I didn't see my oldest kids a lot as they were growing up. I don't feel any guilt, but maybe having a family is something Rachel and Alana and I should have thought about more before we had children'Michael Douglas, a dad at 58The Basic Instinct star had a son, Cameron, with Diandra Luker, his wife of 23 years. She divorced him in 2000. Later that year he ran into Catherine Zeta Jones and seduced her with the admirably direct and honest line: 'I'd like to father your children.' True to his word he hasn't let the 25-year age gap stop him from impregnating her twice, when he was 55 and 58.Dad-speak: 'It's not that I didn't enjoy it the first time, but I just didn't have the time. I'm not the only father who has felt guilty about the lack of time spent with his kids. So now I have a situation where I can savour it with my younger children. And you can see the effect of hanging out with them for three years and the security they have. And for me, it's a ball. Movie roles come and go and it's a finite period of time. This is sort of eternal'John Humphrys, a dad at 56The Welsh son of a hairdresser and French polisher has been married twice. The first wife provided the Mastermind host with two children, now both grown up. He remarried in 1987 and, after a reverse vasectomy, the Today programme interrogator became a proud father to a son, Owen. Dad speak: 'I thought I might resent this little kid for buggering up my life, as it were. The opposite has happened to me because of him. He's the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me'FamilyHealth & wellbeingHealthguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Nov. 12, 1935: You Should (Not) Have a Lobotomy

1935: The world's first modern frontal leukotomy is performed in a Lisbon hospital by Portuguese neurologist Antonio Egas Moniz. Moniz's leukotomy (or leucotomy, from the Greek for "cutting white," in this case the brain's white matter) soon became popularly known as the lobotomy. It was not, however, the surgical procedure now generally associated with lobotomies. Rather, Moniz drilled two holes in the patient's skull and injected pure alcohol into the frontal lobes of the brain to destroy the tissue, in an effort to alter the patient's behavior. Within a year of Moniz's procedure at Lisbon's Santa Marta Hospital, American neurosurgeons Walter Freeman and James Watts had performed the first prefrontal lobotomy in the United States. Their approach, which they would continue refining in subsequent surgeries, also involved drilling holes, but instead of using alcohol they surgically severed the nerves connecting the prefrontal cortex to the thalamus. With various refinements, this became standard operating procedure for the prefrontal lobotomy. Lobotomies were performed on patients suffering from severe mental disorders such as schizophrenia and clinical depression, although its use on people identified as having social disorders was not unknown. That the lobotomy succeeded in altering a person's personality and behavior is beyond dispute, but the results were often drastic, and occasionally fatal. The notion that a mental patient's behavior could be modified for the good by psychosurgery had its roots in the work of Gottlieb Burckhardt, a 19th century Swiss neurologist who performed a number of crude surgical lobotomies and declared the procedure generally successful. His documentation was almost nonexistent, however, and the view was never universally held in the medical fraternity. Although Moniz would share the 1949 Nobel Prize in medicine for his pioneering work in psychosurgery, the lobotomy had not only fallen out of favor by the 1950s but was being excoriated as a barbaric practice. The Soviet Union banned the surgery in 1950, arguing that it was "contrary to the principles of humanity." Other countries, including Germany and Japan, banned it, too, but lobotomies continued to be performed on a limited scale in the United States, Britain, Scandinavia and several western European countries well into the 1980s. The United States performed more lobotomies -- roughly 40,000 -- than any other nation. Some very conspicuous failures, including a lobotomy that reduced John F. Kennedy's elder sister, Rosemary, to a near-vegetative state, helped turn public opinion against the surgery. Or, as the hard-drinking wit Dorothy Parker observed: "I'd rather have a bottle in front of me, than a frontal lobotomy." Source: Various

Creationism should be taught as science, say 29% of teachers

Twenty-nine per cent of teachers believe that creationism and intelligent design should be taught as science, according to an online survey of attitudes to teaching evolution in the UK. Nearly 50% of the respondents said they believed that excluding alternatives to evolution was counter-productive and would alienate pupils from science. The survey, by the website and TV station Teachers TV, also found strong support for the views of Prof Michael Reiss, the former director of education at the Royal Society, who resigned in September over comments about including creationism in science lessons. Nearly nine in 10 respondents agreed with Reiss that teachers should engage with pupils who raise creationism or intelligent design in science lessons. Reiss said at the time that creationism was not science and he did not advocate giving it equal time alongside evolution, but he was forced to step down after furious reactions to his comments in the media from some Royal Society fellows."This poll data confirms that the debate on whether there is a place for the teaching of creationism in the classroom is still fierce," said Andrew Bethell, chief executive of Teachers TV. Teachers TV emailed 10,600 education professionals, of which 1,210 responded. Because the sample is self-selecting, only those teachers with the strongest views might have replied.Most controversially, 29% said they either disagreed or strongly disagreed with the government's guidelines on teaching evolution which states that "creationism and intelligent design are not part of the science national curriculum programmes of study and should not be taught as science". Fifty-three per cent agreed or strongly agreed with the statement.Thirty-one per cent of respondents and 18% of the 248 science teachers in the sample said they thought creationism or intelligent design should be given the same status as evolution in the classroom, although this question did not specify whether it was referring to science lessons or the curriculum in general. Twenty-two respondents said they had been pressured to teach creationism or intelligent design by their school. In September Reiss advocated a pragmatic approach to tackling creationism in science classes. "I feel that creationism is best seen by science teachers not as a misconception but as a world view." He said that teachers should not dismiss pupils with creationist views, but engage with them. But senior Royal Society fellows disagreed with his position. "I think it is outrageous that this man is suggesting creationism should be discussed in a science classroom," said Sir Richard Roberts, winner of the 1993 Nobel prize for Medicine.ReligionEvolutionCharles Darwinguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

BBC's Russian changes under fire

A wide-ranging shake up of the BBC World Service's Russian operations has been criticised by high profile academics and writers, including the Nobel Prize for Literature winner Doris Lessing, who have called the plans "demented". In an open letter, the BBC is accused of caving in to Russian pressure to cut its operations in the region by axing 22 hours a week of programming and dropping long form analytical and cultural programming. "At a time when in Russia misunderstanding and mistrust of Britain has reached a height unprecedented since the end of the USSR this decision seems a perverse, even demented concession," says the letter, organised through the GB-Russia society. But the BBC World Service director, Nigel Chapman, has responded forcefully to the group, which also includes the historian Antony Beevor and the director of English Pen, Jonathan Heawood,.Chapman said the overall loss to the schedule was 19 hours, many of them repeats. The changes were designed to boost newsgathering and strengthen its offering in peak time and on the web in light of the withdrawal of several FM partners and changing audience habits. But another signatory, Donald Rayfield, professor of the school of modern languages, Queen Mary University of London, was not convinced by the response. "It's pretty clear there's a policy not to say anything that will annoy the Russians."BBCRadioRussiaguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds

Exclusive interview: Gomorrah writer Roberto Saviano

"Ciao, John," came the voice from who knows where. A few months ago, it was still possible to meet Roberto Saviano in person, though even then there was no doubt that his safety was in jeopardy. He was already well known in Italy, though not much beyond, as a young author who had written a scorching denunciation of the Camorra, the Neapolitan mafia, and paid for it with threats to his life. In a meeting we had almost a year ago, two police bodyguards searched the cafe and kept him in view from outside. But he could still enjoy a leisurely coffee surrounded by people who had not been frisked.Since then, Saviano has become internationally celebrated. His book, Gomorrah, has inspired an award-winning movie that is Italy's candidate for an Oscar. But the number of his bodyguards has increased to five and now he can only be contacted within Italy by telephone. It took 10 days to arrange. Even then, it didn't happen at the appointed time.The grim paradox of the author's life is that the more famous he becomes, the greater need for him to be invisible, because the more that his book is read, and the more that Matteo Garrone's powerful film is seen, the greater is the heat felt by the Camorra's bosses."Most of my problems have come in the last few weeks from a band of camorristi that is going around Campania [the region that includes Naples]. It's a group of between six and 10 people - so quite a small unit - that in six months has caused 18 deaths," Saviano said in his first interview with the British media since announcing he was to leave Italy. "Every time they have struck, I have been moved out of Campania - as far away as possible."SymbolismSaviano could not quite bring himself to say that the police believed that he was on a hit list. He said its members "had in their heads the dream of... [pause] ... striking at symbols, let's say".He is unquestionably a symbol, not just of the Italy that refuses to be cowed by mobsters, but of the universal right to freedom of speech. A group of Nobel prize-winners, including Günter Grass, Orhan Pamuk and Dario Fo, wrote an open letter to the newspaper La Repubblica after it was reported that the godfathers had set Christmas as the deadline for Saviano's elimination. Extracts from Gomorrah have been read in piazzas up and down the country. And more than 200,000 people have signed a petition in support.Saviano said he had been particularly moved by the Nobel laureates' letter. But, after two and a half years of isolation and persecution, the strain is beginning to show.Apart from trips abroad to publicise his book, he said, his life was spent between carabinieri barracks and the offices of prosecutors. He longed for a home "where I could live for a year, six months ... instead of which I am being moved around. At the start, I could put up with it, accept it was my fate. But now it's driving me crazy."It had warped his personality, he said. "Living shut up like an animal turns you into an animal. You become mistrustful. You think that everyone wants to trick you. You envy other people because they're free. You've had the strength - or the stupidity - to speak out, and they've kept quiet."He said he felt as if he were burdened with "an enormous, gigantic weight that I can no longer carry easily and that is destroying me as a writer". He had been working on a non-fiction novel, but of late most of what he had written was journalism. He managed to write while being moved between "safe houses". "But it's a difficult business, because concentrating is difficult."Several prominent Italians have appealed to him not to leave his homeland, saying it would represent a victory for the mob. But when asked when he planned to go, his answer was: "As soon as possible." Only logistical difficulties stood in the way of exile, and he hoped they could be resolved by the new year.Reviewing the film of Gomorrah, my colleague Peter Bradshaw wrote: "After the final credits, it is hard to escape the fear, even the despair, that this whole area - all of Naples, all of southern Italy - is suitable only for a rain of fire from the heavens, or maybe a 1,000-year quarantine, like an ethical or indeed literal Chernobyl." It is a sensation that anyone who knows the area will instantly recognise.But, said Saviano, "I'd like to ask people not to consider my story as that of a southern Italian and thus of a man who lives in an underdeveloped country of violent men, but to regard it as a European - very European - story. What I and the others who write on these matters are talking about is the biggest single economic force in the European Union. What affects me also affects Londoners, Berliners and Madrilenians. All the organised criminal cartels invest in London and it is no coincidence that London is among the five cities with the highest consumption of cocaine."It is about freedom of speech," he said of the issues surrounding his novel and the reaction to it. "But above all, it is about the freedom of the reader, because what has put me in danger is reading. If what I wrote had ended up in the hands of 20,000 people it would not have generated any problem. What put me in danger is that, because of me, millions of people decided to take an interest in the things that interested me."Salman Rushdie said Saviano's position was even more perilous than his own had been, and Saviano agrees. He recounted the story of a mafioso who turned state evidence and was once asked if a death sentence passed by the dons could ever be lifted. "No," he replied, "Only postponed."Despite this, and the global reach of the Camorra, which is one theme of Gomorrah, Saviano seems confident that he will find a way to live safely outside Italy without round-the-clock protection. "I'm not absolutely sure," he said. "But I think so."Italyguardian.co.uk © Guardian News & Media Limited 2008 | Use of this content is subject to our Terms & Conditions | More Feeds