Science, culture, complexity

Tag: Nobel Prize for Chemistry

  • Powerful microscopy technique brings proteins into focus

    Cryo-electron microscopy (cryo-EM) as a technology has become more important because the field that it revolutionised – structural biology – has become more important. The international scientific community had this rise in fortunes, so to speak, acknowledged when the Nobel Prize for chemistry was awarded to three people in 2017 for perfecting its use to study important biomolecules and molecular processes.

    (Who received the prize is immaterial, considering more than just three people are likely to have contributed to the development of cryo-EM; however, the prize-giving committee’s choice of field to spotlight is a direction worth following.)

    In 2015, two separate groups of scientists used cryo-EM to image objects 2.8 Å and 2.2 Å (1 nm is one-billionth of a metre; 1 Å is one-tenth of this) wide. These distances are considered to be atomic because they represent the ability to image features about as big as a smallish atom, comparable to that of, say, sodium. Before cryo-EM, scientists could image such distances only with X-ray crystallography, which requires the samples to be studied to be crystallised first. This isn’t always possible.

    But though cryo-EM didn’t require specimens to be crystallised, they had to be placed in a vacuum first. In vacuum, water evaporates, and when water evaporates from biological objects like tissue, the specimen could lose its structural integrity and collapse or deform. The trio that won the chemistry prize in 2017 developed multiple workarounds for this and other problems. Taken together, their innovations allowed scientists to find cryo-EM to be more and more valuable for research.

    One of the laureates, Joachim Frank, developed computational techniques in the 1970s and 1980s to enhance, correct and in other ways modify images obtained with cryo-EM. And one of these techniques in turn was particularly important.

    An object will reflect a wave if the object’s size is comparable to the wave’s wavelength. Humans see a chair or table because the chair or table reflects visible light, and our eyes detect the reflected electromagnetic waves. A cryo-EM ‘sees’ its samples using electrons, which have a smaller wavelength than photons and can thus reveal even smaller objects.

    However, there’s a catch. The more energetic an electron is, the lower its wavelength is, and the smaller the feature it can resolve – but a high-energy electron can also damage the specimen altogether. Frank’s contributions allowed scientists to reduce the number of electrons or their energy to obtain equally good images of their specimens, leading to resolutions of 2.2 Å.

    Today, structural biology continues to be important, but its demands have become more exacting. To elucidate the structures of smaller and smaller molecules, scientists need cryo-EM and other tools to be able to resolve smaller and smaller features, but come up against significant physical barriers.

    For example, while Frank’s techniques allowed scientists to reduce the number of electrons required to obtain the image of a sample, using fewer probe particles also meant a lower signal-to-noise ratio (SNR). So the need for new techniques, new solutions, to these old problems has become apparent.

    In a paper published online on October 21, a group of scientists from Belgium, the Netherlands and the UK describe “three technological developments that further increase the SNR of cryo-EM images”. These are a new kind of electron source, a new energy filter and a new electron camera.

    The electron source is something the authors call a cold field emission electron gun (CFEG). Some electron microscopes use field emission guns (FEGs) to shoot sharply focused, coherent beams of electrons optimised to have energies that will produce a bright image. A CFEG is a FEG that reduces the brightness in favour of reducing the average difference in energies between electrons. The higher this difference – or the energy spread – is, the more blur there will be in the image.

    The authors’ pitch is that FEGs help produce brighter but more blurred images than CFEGs, and that CFEGs help produce significantly better images when the goal is to image features smaller than 2 Å. Specifically, they write, the SNR increases 2.5x at a resolution of 1.5 Å and 9.5x at 1.2 Å.

    The second improvement has to do with the choice of electrons used to compose the final image. The electrons fired by the gun (CFEG or otherwise) go on to have one of two types of collisions with the specimen. In an elastic collision, the electron’s kinetic energy doesn’t change – i.e. it doesn’t impart its kinetic energy to the specimen. In an inelastic collision, the electron’s kinetic energy changes because the electron has passed on some of it to the specimen itself. This energy transfer can produce noise, lower the SNR and distort the final image.

    The authors propose using a filter that removes electrons that have undergone inelastic collisions from the final assessment. In simple terms, the filter comprises a slit through which only electrons of a certain energy can pass and a prism that bends their path towards a detector. This said, they do acknowledge that it will be interesting to explore in future whether inelastically scattered electrons can be be better accounted for instead of being eliminated altogether – akin to silencing a classroom by expelling unruly children versus retaining them and teaching them to keep quiet.

    The final improvement is to use the “next-generation” Falcon 4 direct-electron detector. This is the latest iteration in a line of products developed by Thermo Fisher Scientific, to count the number of electrons impinging on a surface as accurately as possible, their relative location and at a desirable exposure. The Falcon 4 has a square detection area 14 µm to a side, a sampling frequency of 248 Hz and a “sub-pixel accuracy” (according to the authors) that allows the device to not lose track of electrons even if they impinge close to each other on the detector.

    A schematic overview of the experimental setup. Credit: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-020-2829-0

    Combining all three improvements, the authors write that they were able to image a human membrane protein called ß3 GABA_A R with a resolution of 1.7 Å and mouse apoferritin at 1.22 Å. (The protein called ferritin binds to iron and stores/releases it; apoferritin is ferritin sans iron.)

    A reconstructed image of GABA_A R. The red blobs are water molecules. NAG is N-acetyl glucosamine. Credit: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-020-2829-0

    “The increased SNR of cryo-EM images enabled by the technology described here,” the authors conclude, “will expand [the technique] to more difficult samples, including membrane proteins in lipid bilayers, small proteins and structurally heterogeneous macromolecular complexes.”

    At these resolutions, scientists are closing in on images not just of macromolecules of biological importance but of parts of these molecules – and can in effect elucidate the structures that correspond to specific functions or processes. This is somewhat like going from knowing that viruses infect cells to determining the specific parts of a virus and a cell implicated in the infiltration process.

    A very germane example is that of the novel coronavirus. In April this year, a group of researchers from France and the US reported the cryo-EM structure of the virus’s spike glycoprotein, which binds to the ACE2 protein on the surface of some cells to gain entry. By knowing this structure, other researchers can design the more perfect inhibitors to disrupt the glycoprotein’s function, as well as vaccines that mimic its presence to provoke the desired immune response.

    In this regard, a resolution of 1-2 Å corresponds to the dimensions of individual covalent bonds. So by extending the cryo-EM’s ability to decipher smaller and smaller features, researchers can strike at smaller, more precise molecular mechanisms to produce more efficient, perhaps more closely controlled and finely targeted, effects.

    Featured image: Scientists using a 300-kV cryo-EM at the Max Planck Institute of Molecular Physiology, Dortmund. Credit: MPI Dortmund.

  • Science and the scientist

    Didier Queloz and Michel Mayor won the 2019 Nobel Prize for physics for discovering a famous exoplanet (51 Pegasi b) in 1995. Their claim was first verified by a top astronomer at the time named Geoff Marcy. He was later found guilty of having harassed many of his students between 2001 and 2010.

    Azeen Ghorayshi of Buzzfeed News published an excellent thread detailing how Marcy’s star as an astronomer rose at a time coinciding with many of his transgressions. As Ghorayshi observes, “Marcy’s place in the science—in a buzzy field, and [with lots of money]—became part of the power used against them.” It wasn’t that Marcy would harass a woman and the woman would continue to be an astronomer; she would often leave the profession entirely.

    This should make us wonder: if not for Marcy and numerous other researcher-teachers like him, what would all those strong, wonderful women (who finally outed him) have accomplished? The answer is likely lots. So the celebration of the work of men like Marcy doesn’t only concern whether a ‘morally innocent’ body of knowledge is ‘tainted’ by their actions as people but in fact strikes that moral neutrality down in two ways: the work gave Marcy power in the academic structure, and Marcy used that power to harass and drive women out of academia.

    Ultimately what Marcy achieved and who Marcy is aren’t separate. The science and the scientist are inseparable – just different labels for the same entity at two points on a continuum, the same continuum that Richard Feynman lived on and which Jeffrey Epstein enabled.

    John B. Goodenough, who won the 2019 chemistry Nobel Prize yesterday for his part in inventing the lithium-ion battery, has said scientists’ inventions are morally neutral. They’re not, but saying so spares one the responsibility of confronting the consequences of its use. Lithium-ion batteries may not seem to have many consequences of this sort because their use has become so prevalent, abstracted through many layers of industrialisation, but what if one of the laureates had harassed a colleague who could have contributed?

    This is why Marcy’s work as an astronomer is also morally debilitated.

  • A case of Kuhn, quasicrystals & communication – Part IV

    Dan Shechtman won the Nobel Prize for chemistry in 2011. This led to an explosion of interest on the subject of QCs and Shechtman’s travails in getting the theory validated.

    Numerous publications, from Reuters to The Hindu, published articles and reports. In fact, The Guardian ran an online article giving a blow-by-blow account of how the author, Ian Sample, attempted to contact Shechtman while the events succeeding the announcement of the prize unfolded.

    All this attention served as a consummation of the events that started to avalanche in 1982. Today, QCs are synonymous with the interesting possibilities of materials science as much as with perseverance, dedication, humility, and an open mind.

    Since the acceptance of the fact of QCs, the Israeli chemist has gone on to win Physics Award of the Friedenberg Fund (1986), the Rothschild Prize in engineering (1990), the Weizmann Science Award (1993), the 1998 Israel Prize for Physics, the prestigious Wolf Prize in Physics (1998), and the EMET Prize in chemistry (2002).

    As Pauling’s influence on the scientific community faded with Shechtman’s growing recognition, his death in 1994 did still mark the complete lack of opposition to an idea that had long since gained mainstream acceptance. The swing in Shechtman’s favour, unsurprisingly, began with the observation of QCs and the icosahedral phase in other laboratories around the world.

    Interestingly, Indian scientists were among the forerunners in confirming the existence of QCs. As early as in 1985, when the paper published by Shechtman and others in the Physical Review Letters was just a year old, S Ranganathan and Kamanio Chattopadhyay (amongst others), two of India’s preeminent crystallographers, published a paper in Current Science announcing the discovery of materials that exhibited decagonal symmetry. Such materials are two-dimensional QCs with periodicity exhibited in one of those dimensions.

    The story of QCs is most important as a post-Second-World-War incidence of a paradigm shift occurring in a field of science easily a few centuries old.

    No other discovery has rattled scientists as much in these years, and since the Shechtman-Pauling episode, academic peers have been more receptive of dissonant findings. At the same time, credit must be given to the rapid advancements in technology and human knowledge of statistical techniques: without them, the startling quickness with which each hypothesis can be tested today wouldn’t have been possible.

    The analysis of the media representation of the discovery of quasicrystals with respect to Thomas Kuhn’s epistemological contentions in his The Structure of Scientific Revolutions was an attempt to understand his standpoints by exploring more of what went on in the physical chemistry circles of the 1980s.

    While there remains the unresolved discrepancy – whether knowledge is non-accumulative simply because the information founding it has not been available before – Kuhn’s propositions hold in terms of the identification of the anomaly, the mounting of the crisis period, the communication breakdown within scientific circles, the shift from normal science to cutting-edge science, and the eventual acceptance of a new paradigm and the discarding of the old one.

    Consequently, it appears that science journalists have indeed taken note of these developments in terms of The Structure. Thus, the book’s influence on science journalism can be held to be persistent, and is definitely evident.