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Got a cold? Eat caterpillars

Why medinical zinc is not all it's cracked up to be.

How’s this for impact? At the end of January, a research group in Manchester published a paper on the essential role of zinc in the human immune system. A week later, the price of zinc rose on the international metals markets after its longest slump in 25 years.

Amazing? Of course not. These are two entirely unrelated events. But it’s the ability to separate coincidence from causality that allows us to distinguish old wives’ tales from useful information.

Zinc has been in medical use since at least the 2nd century BC. A set of pills found in the remains of a ship wrecked off the Tuscan coast in 140BC are 75 per cent zinc. They were almost certainly used to treat eye and skin disorders, a practice documented by the Roman polymath Pliny in the 1st century AD.

Zinc is still used for this purpose. It has antiseptic and antiviral properties, which is why it is often embedded in dressings for wounds. What’s more, anecdotal evidence has long suggested that taking zinc supplements helps fight the common cold. But anecdotal evidence isn’t the most trustworthy: sometimes it sees cause and effect where there is none.

Even individual studies haven’t been enough to give us the answer; depending on how they are carried out, they can produce conflicting results. Fortunately, we’ve developed even more sophisticated techniques: dissection, analysis and pooling of the scientific studies themselves. This has allowed us to draw a firm and reliable conclusion. In the case of zinc, it’s this: take at least 75mg a day and “there is a significant reduction in the duration of cold”, according to a gold-standard Cochrane Review, which looks at primary research in health care. Ancient wisdom, in this case, has some validity.

What the ancients didn’t know is the mechanism involved. Zinc deficiency, it turns out, causes more than 3,000 types of protein in the body to function inefficiently or not at all. The body responds to this as stress, causing the immune system to leap into action. Specifically, according to researchers at Manchester University, zinc deficiency unleashes a molecule called interleukin-1-beta. This is part of the armoury of the immune system. The trouble is that, in the absence of any infection to clear, firing the immune response’s weaponry just causes damage.

The zinc deficiency, as the researchers point out, could easily be resolved using dietary supplements. And this increased medical use of zinc could have an economic impact.

Not, it has to be said, in the metals markets, where the rising price of zinc is linked to China’s construction boom. But zinc use for medical purposes could be worth about $25bn a year in the US alone. That is the estimated annual impact of common colds, in terms of lost productivity. The Cochrane Review has found that taking zinc supplements for at least five months can reduce that. It certainly reduces school absences and the prescription of antibiotics for children with the common cold.

Because colds are caused by a virus, antibiotics do nothing for sufferers, yet doctors prescribe them as a placebo to get worried parents out of their surgery. So zinc supplementation also slows the spread of antibiotic resistance. Here’s a final tip in case the price of zinc lozenges skyrockets: a daily 100g of cooked caterpillars contains all the zinc you need.

You’re welcome.
 

Michael Brooks holds a PhD in quantum physics. He writes a weekly science column for the New Statesman, and his most recent book is At the Edge of Uncertainty: 11 Discoveries Taking Science by Surprise.

This article first appeared in the 19 February 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The Space Issue

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Andy Burnham and Sadiq Khan are both slippery self-mythologisers – so why do we rate one more than the other?

Their obsessions with their childhoods have both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

Andy Burnham is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s widely seen as an unprincipled flip-flopper.

Sadiq Khan is a man whose policies and opinions seem to owe more to political expediency than they do to belief. He bangs on to the point of tedium about his own class, background and interests. As a result he’s the hugely popular mayor of London, the voice of those who’d be proud to think of themselves as the metropolitan liberal elite, and is even talked of as a possible future leader of the Labour party.

Oh, and also they were both born in 1970. So that’s a thing they have in common, too.

Why it is this approach to politics should have worked so much better for the mayor of London than the would-be mayor of Manchester is something I’ve been trying to work out for a while. There are definite parallels between Burnham’s attempts to present himself as a normal northern bloke who likes normal things like football, and Sadiq’s endless reminders that he’s a sarf London geezer whose dad drove a bus. They’ve both become punchlines; but one of these jokes, it feels to me, is told with a lot more affection than the other.

And yes, Burnham apparent tendency to switch sides, on everything from NHS privatisation to the 2015 welfare vote to the leadership of Jeremy Corbyn, has given him a reputation for slipperiness. But Sadiq’s core campaign pledge was to freeze London transport fares; everyone said it was nonsense, and true to form it was, and you’d be hard pressed to find an observer who thought this an atypical lapse on the mayor’s part. (Khan, too, has switched sides on the matter of Jeremy Corbyn.)

 And yet, he seems to get away with this, in a way that Burnham doesn’t. His low-level duplicity is factored in, and it’s hard to judge him for it because, well, it’s just what he’s like, isn’t it? For a long time, the Tory leadership’s line on London’s last mayor was “Boris is Boris”, meaning, look, we don’t trust him either, but what you gonna do? Well: Sadiq is Sadiq.

Even the names we refer to them by suggest that one of these two guys is viewed very differently from the other. I’ve instinctively slipped into referring to the mayor of London by his first name: he’s always Sadiq, not Khan, just as his predecessors were Boris and Ken. But, despite Eoin Clarke’s brief attempt to promote his 2015 leadership campaign with a twitter feed called “Labour Andy”, Burnham is still Burnham: formal, not familiar. 

I’ve a few theories to explain all this, though I’ve no idea which is correct. For a while I’ve assumed it’s about sincerity. When Sadiq Khan mentions his dad’s bus for the 257th time in a day, he does it with a wink to the audience, making a crack about the fact he won’t stop going on about it. That way, the message gets through to the punters at home who are only half listening, but the bored lobby hacks who’ve heard this routine two dozen times before feel they’re in the joke.

Burnham, it seems to me, lacks this lightness of touch: when he won’t stop banging on about the fact he grew up in the north, it feels uncomfortably like he means it. And to take yourself seriously in politics is sometimes to invite others to make jokes at your expense.

Then again, perhaps the problem is that Burnham isn’t quite sincere enough. Sadiq Khan genuinely is the son of a bus-driving immigrant: he may keep going on about it, but it is at least true. Burnham’s “just a northern lad” narrative is true, too, but excludes some crucial facts: that he went to Cambridge, and was working in Parliament aged 24. Perhaps that shouldn’t change how we interpret his story; but I fear, nonetheless, it does.

Maybe that’s not it, though: maybe I’m just another London media snob. Because Burnham did grow up at the disadvantaged end of the country, a region where, for too many people, chasing opportunities means leaving. The idea London is a city where the son of a bus driver can become mayor flatters our metropolitan self-image; the idea that a northerner who wants to build a career in politics has to head south at the earliest opportunity does the opposite. 

So if we roll our eyes when Burnham talks about the north, perhaps that reflects badly on us, not him: the opposite of northern chippiness is southern snobbery.

There’s one last possibility for why we may rate Sadiq Khan more highly than Andy Burnham: Sadiq Khan won. We can titter a little at the jokes and the fibs but he is, nonetheless, mayor of London. Andy Burnham is just the bloke who lost two Labour leadership campaigns.

At least – for now. In six weeks time, he’s highly likely to the first mayor of Greater Manchester. Slipperiness is not the worst quality in a mayor; and so much of the job will be about banging the drum for the city, and the region, that Burnham’s tendency to wear his northernness on his sleeve will be a positive boon.

Sadiq Khan’s stature has grown because the fact he became London’s mayor seems to say something, about the kind of city London is and the kind we want it to be. Perhaps, after May, Andy Burnham can do the same for the north – and the north can do the same for Andy Burnham.

Jonn Elledge edits the New Statesman's sister site CityMetric, and writes for the NS about subjects including politics, history and Daniel Hannan. You can find him on Twitter or Facebook.