Well Patrick,

As I said, this is not the time, place or space to deal with this matter properly, but just quickly:

1. Agreed, some of our species descriptions were “pretty weak”, to use your parlance - but they are still valid under the Rules of the ICZN whether you or anyone else likes it or not. However, most of our descriptions were on par with those accepted descriptions of some of the practicing taxonomists of the day such as two of the then most productive – Dr Glen Storr of the Western Australian Museum and Dr Glenn Ingram of the Queensland Museum. Where is your criticism of THEIR brief, “pretty weak” descriptions? If you don’t know what species and genera I am referring to, I suggest you go out and get the original type descriptions erected by some of my critics and undertake a bit of time travel.

2. As for the merits of minimalist taxonomy, in retrospect, I now feel this was a sort of mistake as you imply, particularly in light of the fact that I could have easily bombarded the community with data on most of those that we described so briefly. In saying this though, it should not be taken to mean that I think such minimalism is invalid - it may be undesirable, but from our experience it was just not appreciated for its true value by the larger herp community at the time. I still hold the view that we did the right thing to offer a rapid alternative schema to Cogger, Cameron and Cogger (1983), but circumstances indicate that we may as well not bothered challenging the absurdity of the arrangement in the Zoological Catalogue for all the good it did us. Looking back, I can’t help noticing that our brevity was used more as an excuse to destroy us as contributors than it was to justify the testing of our numerous hypotheses. The elegant simplicity of our contributions were perceived or promoted merely as monstrosities of complexity to discourage any attempt at trying to test our hypotheses or recognize our originality.

But as we had to bear the cost of publication ourselves, time and space were a continuum to the poor house for us at the time. In the big world of the public museum researcher, why…money is no object it seems. They can spend as much time as they like on a project, make it as complicated or open-ended as they like, and if they don’t finish it, there is always another excuse they can use to get more grant money or publication space. And…Praise the Lord, if someone like Wells or Wellington comes along they have the perfect excuse to finally justify achieving nothing!

But I do appreciate and understand the value of detailed study more than you probably realise. It is just that I believe that this is not the only way to fry a goose. It should be clearly understood that I see a clear line between the morphologist and the taxonomist – biology and all its branches is not an intellectual continuum towards a nirvana of ultimate knowledge for the chosen few. I recognized then, and still do that one of the biggest impediments to applying a legal taxonomic framework for the publication of a new name or nomenclatural act is the quick-sand of morphology. It is just so easy to get confused by the roles of morphologist and that of the taxonomist. We have the absurd situation where researchers are incapable of drawing the line for the erection of a new name, unless they have virtually discovered the origin of life first! Repeatedly, vast amounts of specimens are collected, killed and examined to justify the formal fixing of a name, that could just as easily be achieved by a single type specimen being examined then formally named. As much as this may cause rancour amongst the perfectionist morphologists out there, the fact is that virtually every species that we described has been confirmed following the so-called “detailed and careful” work of others and this clearly demonstrates that we in fact knew exactly what we were doing. The oft-used criticism that it was only through this superior work of others, that our species and genera have been validated is not only insulting, it is perhaps the weakest excuse for intellectual theft that biology has ever dredged up. And to say that it was only possible to clarify some of our new species by genetics as they are supposedly so morphologically conservative that they should be regarded as “cryptic species” is also absolutely ludicrous. As far as these so-called cryptic Australian reptile species are concerned they are quite distinct to an experienced eye. My experience with the species concerned allowed me to be familiar enough with the taxa to quite confidently fix a name to them on the basis of a single type specimen if that was all I had available at the time. That others needed to obtain thousands of dollars of public money first before they would even bother to begin work on a taxon is not my fault. My research was founded on my own natural curiosity, not on other people’s money, or on any desire for prestige or to maintain power over others in the field. I didn’t have to pulp the species’ body parts in a centrifuge, examine its DNA or go out and kill numerous examples by drowning them in formalin first, before I had the belief that it was a distinct entity deserving of recognition by fixing a name on it.

The insistence of my critics that taxonomy should only be for professionals employed in reputable institutions has a rather hollow ring to it when I see how little they produce from the scale of their available resources. To be sure, such works when they are undertaken and successfully completed are wondrous to behold, but can we really afford the cost of such a perfectionist approach to taxonomy given the imperatives at hand. I don’t think so. To say that some of the species described by us were only clearly identified after detailed and meticulous studies over many years by such methodical professionals is more a reflection of the inexperience of my peers, than it is a mark of my inadequacy in taxonomy.

Finally, you hinted at knowledge of matters relating to the Australian Museum’s role in this saga. I can’t really speak much at all about that Institution. The last time I was in the building was 17 May 1982, and I left in disgust, vowing never to return unless I was given a written apology for the way I had been treated by the so-called technical staff. Of course I have never received an apology, so I have never set foot in the place again, nor do I even drive on the road that is attached to the block of land that it is built on. I would no sooner enter that place than walk into Chenobyl. That said, I would respectfully like to suggest that you don’t buy into that one further, lest you precipitate a debate that will likely result in damage to the reputation of an otherwise great institution. I should only like to add that were it not for the arrival of the great American herpetologist Dr Allen E. Greer, the Australian Museum’s reptile and amphibian collections would likely have rotted away from neglect and incompetence long ago. His involvement at that Museum was one of the few highlights in my long interest in herpetology. He is a totally dedicated scientist and an honourable person – a rare combination indeed, and the Australian Museum has been the richer for it.



Richard Wells

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