It is about a year ago that Belgian biology lost, in quick sequence, two distinguished and internationally known representatives: Konjev Desender and Jean-Pierre Maelfait.
Before contemplating this sad loss, allow me to mention some facts, even if they are well known in these circles. Konjev Desender was born in 1956, and graduated in 1978 from the University of Ghent. In 1987, he received his PhD, and in 1990, he joined the Belgian Institute of Natural Sciences, where he remained until his untimely death from cancer at the age of 52. Originally interested in birds, Konjev’s attention later turned to ground beetles, and after 1980, he mainly worked with invertebrates. The focus of his research was ground beetles, especially in relation to nature conservation, forestry, and population genetics. He took part in 6 expeditions to the Galapagos Islands (for which I envied him a great deal), has worked on salt marshes around Europe, but above all, worked and collected intensively in Belgium. His work was massive in terms of numbers of beetles collected, driven by keen curiosity, and he understood well that human activities have shaped even the invertebrate fauna of his country. I really liked his work on identifying beetle remains in old wells excavated by archeologists, giving a richer understanding of environments past. This was, however just one facet of his varied activities. He was a hard worker, and published over 350 papers, mostly in collaboration, guided numerous younger scientists, and was active in the Belgian entomological society. He also organised one of the European carabidologist meetings, in 1992, in collaboration with his friend Jean-Pierre Maelfait and other Belgian colleagues.
I have first met both of them, I believe, at a soil zoology symposium in Louvain-la-Neuve in 1982, and recall the intensity in Konjev’s voice when he talked about his research, and the quiet presence of Jean-Pierre.
I remember Konjev mostly through our encounters at meetings like this one, where he has always been present (actually more frequently than myself), and I do not think there are many in this room who do not remember him as one of the central figures of our carabidologist meetings.
Jean-Pierre was a more relaxed, one could even say slower, but no less impressive personality. Jean-Pierre Maelfait was born in 1951, 5 years senior to Konjev, and spent most of his career at the University of Ghent and at the Institute for Nature Conservation and Forestry in Brussels (INBO). Like for many others who graduated from that university, he was also Konjev’s teacher, later a colleague and friend. As a teacher, he will be long remembered – I believe there are several participants in this room who were Jean-Pierre’s students, and I am sure he has made a profund influence on your knowledge and professional attitude. Jean-Pierre was also a productive scientist – his output, some of which is still being published, amounts to ca. 300 items. These include numerous articles on ground beetles, but his speciality was arachnology, the venerable study of spiders. Jean-Pierre and Konjev shared a similar approach to science and nature, were very active in the conservation of their respective groups, and also their habitats; they also shared several projects. Both of them visited the Galapagos Islands several times, and published on their results from there over a period of more than a decade. Their first shared publications go back to 1980; altogether they are co-authors on 100 published papers. These concern surface-active organisms, papers on the inhabitants of Belgian sand dunes, forest invertebrates, ecological restoration, and so on.
Due to this shared interest and close relationship, Jean-Pierre was originally asked by the organisers of this meeting to talk about Konjev here. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, he died. He was 57; hardly older than Konjev. And this is how this mantle, this not-so-light mantle fell on me.
Konjev Desender
Jean-Pierre Maelfait
I have had a very dear New Zealand friend, sadly also dead, by the name of John Bevan Ford. He was a respected and much loved New Zealand Maori artist. Once he was explaining to me the Maori attitude to life, its continuity and death. When someone dies, he said, people who knew him gather together to celebrate his or her life, and talk to him as someone still much present, even if unable to answer. If they had a quarrel, they mention it. If they have unsorted business, they lament that this can now never be laid to rest. And they mention how much they enjoyed when they did things together, and rejoice again. In this spirit I would like to remember these two colleagues of us. I think it is wise and very fitting. I, for one, can now never berate Konjev and convince him that one does not need to kill tens of thousands of beetles to illustrate an ecological phenomenon. He will not kill more beetles now, but I am not happy. And I smiled again, when I saw the photos of Konjev and Johan Kotze, at the conference party at Mols, Denmark, playing with empty beer glasses, and a few coins. That photo is so full of the joy of life...I am sure that we all carry similar memories of both of them.
So when we rember them now, I do not ask you to stand up and think silently about them, to show respect. Respect we have for them and respect we will continue to show them. But I would also like to quote a Japanese haiku, which says that a sumo wrestler shows respect for his teacher by winning over him on the wrestling mat. Science is not about fighting, but this, in a way, we shall also do – to build on their work, and proceed further. I know that they had no intention to stop and see only us advance, nor would they have withdrawn their support when younger colleagues were preparing to surpass them. We are only a little sad that they themselves were stopped.
Bearing such a loss is not easy. When I now turn to the families of Jean-Pierre and Konjev, I know that these words do not bring them back, and hearing these words may make their grief swell again. Jean-Pierre will not again silently, gently sit among us, and Konjev’s sharp voice will not be heard again at future meetings. Nevertheless, I would still like, in the name of all of us, to say to you, that we are glad. We are glad to have known them, even if we met them only sporadically, and we thank you for providing support for them. None of us can function without this support. We, carabidologists are an odd race, in finding small, smelly creatures of strange habit fascinating, interesting, and well worth spending days (months) away from home, coming home late, and going into our workplace or field site even on weekends. This is all time taken from you, from our family. We mostly cannot help it and we can only ask for understanding. We are probably not party stars when it comes to our work, and I cannot imagine people with open mouths and jealous expressions when it comes to mentioning our work with carabids; yet we are always willing to talk about them. We hope you understood that neither Konjev, nor Jean-Pierre was odd nor slightly crazy – and hope you believe we are not, either. I hope both of them found time for you as well as carabids, spiders, and work, and that they were appropriate support and good company. Whatever they did in science, at the last count is not so important. If they managed to instill in their children, friends, and family, that life on Earth is wonderful, and studying it is worth spending a life with, then you, or we, cannot ask for more.
In closing this short remembrance, allow me to voice my gratitude that I, that we, have had Jean-Pierre and Konjev in our lives. I would like to thank the organisers for thinking about this remembrance which I feel is appropriate, and thank you for bearing with me. I hope the families of Jean-Pierre and Konjev will find some consolation to know how much we appreciated these two colleagues of ours as scientsts and human beings. May all of us, when the time comes, have left as rich and inspiring a legacy as Konjev and Jean-Pierre did, and be remembered this fondly.
Thank you.