The winner of the 2025 Column Relay is Freija Neuteboom Spijker of the Nijmegen student association BeeVee, with her column ‘De Slimste Mens’). She will receive €100 and a certificate by post.
For the 10th and final time, Bionieuws and the National Consultation of Biology Students (LOBS) held a column relay in 2025. Students from the eight affiliated student associations each contributed a column in turn, from GLV Idun in Groningen to Biota Natura in Den Bosch. The winning column from each round was published in Bionieuws, and in November 2025 the editorial team selected the overall winner on the basis of criteria such as readability, originality and argumentation. The author receives the Bionieuws column prize, a certificate and €100!
Bionieuws aims, through this column relay, to encourage biology students to articulate their opinions and insights and share them with fellow students and professionals in the field.
Requirements:
The column must be 300 words in length. The subject is in principle free, but must have a connection to biology. The Bionieuws editorial team assesses submissions on criteria such as readability, originality and argumentation.
Student association – Deadline – Publication
GLV Idun – 17 Jan – BN 02: 31 Jan (column did not arrive!)
Gyrinus natans – 14 Feb – BN 04: 28 Feb (column is here!)
BeeVee – 14 Mar – BN 06: 28 Mar (column is here!)
UBV – 18 Apr – BN 08: 2 May (column is here!)
Biologica – 16 May – BN 10: 30 May (column is here!)
Congo – 20 Jun – BN 12: 4 Jul (column did not arrive!)
LBC – 5 Sep – BN 14: 19 Sep (column coming here!)
Biota Natura – 3 Oct – BN16: 17 Oct (column did not arrive!)
Writing tips:
How do you write a column?
Ten tips for a brilliant column
Previous editions:
–The 2024 column competition was won by Viola Schulte of the Groningen student association GLV Idun
–The 2023 column competition was won by Esra de Ruiter of the Utrecht Biology Association
–The 2022 column competition was won by Roos van Zon of Biota Natura
–The 2021 column competition was won by Frederique Kloosterman of the Leiden Biology Club
–The 2020 column competition was won by Sytske Schep of Congo
–The 2018–2019 column competition was won by Celine Huisman of the Leiden Biology Club
-The 2017–2018 column competition was won by Stijn de Jong of the Utrecht Biology Association
-The 2016–2017 column competition was won by Robbert Folmer of the Leiden Biology Club
-The 2015–2016 column competition was won by Veerle de Goederen of BVW Biologica
Below you will find the (winning) columns published in 2025, per student association.
Unfortunately, the first column of the tenth season of the Bionieuws Column Relay is missing. The board of the Groningen student association GLV Idun reports that they ‘unfortunately could not find anyone’ and points to the ‘exam period’, which means members ‘have little time to write a column’. This means that GLV Idun – last year’s winner – will not be competing for the Bionieuws column prize in this final edition of the relay.
No submission,
on behalf of student association GLV Idun of the University of Groningen
Unfortunately, the 1st instalment of the column relay for students, by GLV Idun, is missing.
Imagine walking through a forest, surrounded by towering trees that here and there provide shelter for the creatures of the woodland. It may seem peaceful and quiet, as though you are entirely alone – but deep beneath the ground, a secret communication network is taking shape, one of which we have barely scratched the surface. These trees, once thought to be independent organisms, are in fact tightly connected through an underground network of fungi. This is often called the Wood Wide Web, or mycorrhiza. This fungal network allows trees to share vital nutrients with one another, warn each other of dangers, and even protect weaker neighbouring trees by supplying them with those nutrients. Some trees even act as central hubs, nourishing young seedlings and thereby ensuring the survival of the forest.
Research has also shown that some trees can recognise their own offspring and preferentially support them. In times of stress – such as drought, disease or pest attack – signals are sent through the roots, prompting neighbouring trees to protect themselves. One example is the production of bitter chemicals to deter herbivores. This previously poorly understood intelligence challenges our conception of plant life. If trees cooperate, communicate and form complex interactions with one another, does that mean we need to reconsider the way we treat forests? Deforestation harms not only individual trees, but also these intricate networks, throwing entire ecosystems out of balance.
So, next time you walk through the forest: the trees are talking. And if we listen carefully, we might just have something to learn.
Timo Bakker,
on behalf of student association Gyrinus natans of Vrije Universiteit Amsterdam
This is the 2nd instalment of the column relay for students, this time contributed by Gyrinus natans
The Smartest Person in the Room (winning column 2025!)
There was plenty of chatter among the elderly residents at the care home where I was working. A little way from me, I heard one of them declare with great conviction that slugs arose spontaneously. No reproduction, nothing of the sort – they simply appeared everywhere all at once. And before I had mentally prepared myself for the question that was coming, my employer had already turned round, and out came that all-too-familiar line: ‘You study biology, don’t you?’
Studying biology seems to make you, by definition, an authority on everything. Recently I became aware of a new category in which my apparently boundless knowledge is put to the test: science fiction films. At home, my father and I watched Annihilation. In it, an extraterrestrial life form fragmented and recombined the DNA of living organisms, including across species. Plants appeared in the exact shape of human beings, with human Hox genes cheerfully offered up as an explanation. At the end of the film, my father asked: ‘What do you make of it?’ In free translation: ‘Could any of this actually be real?’ Intrigued, I delved into the depths of Web of Science, hoping the film might be at least partially explicable in scientific terms. But I was forced into a rather qualified argument about why it was impossible – difficult enough, giving a clear explanation without resorting to biological concepts such as CRISPR, gene expression or DNA polymerases.
Back to the question that has been thrown at me regularly since the start of my biology degree. Minor ailments, strange natural phenomena, unusual pets – and now films too – are all occasions for people to look at me expectantly. Reason enough to keep studying for a while yet. Before I know it, I’ll find myself imagining I’m on a quiz show again. ‘What do you know about…?’
Freija Neuteboom Spijker,
on behalf of student association BeeVee of Radboud University Nijmegen
This is the 3rd instalment of the column relay for students, this time contributed by BeeVee (declared winner of the 2025 column relay on 31 October 2025).
The triangle of humans, animals and disease
In the twenty-first century, hundreds of millions of chickens were killed in South-East Asia. Not for consumption, but to prevent the spread of the H5N1 virus. In 2021 alone, 5.8 million birds were culled, of which 1 million were destroyed preventively to halt the spread of avian influenza.1 Now that we have vaccines, you might think this method of mass killing had been consigned to the past – but it remains standard practice to this day.2
Culling involves slaughtering healthy animals to prevent the spread of disease. Killing animals in certain contexts – such as for the meat industry – is already controversial. So how can we justify the preventive slaughter of healthy animals for diseases against which we can vaccinate them? Why don’t we vaccinate animals?
The European Commission is currently working on approving trade in vaccinated poultry products, but this is proving difficult because it is hard to distinguish between animals that have been ill and animals that have been vaccinated.3
Whilst culling slows the spread of disease, vaccination tackles the source itself. But to eliminate the original source entirely, we need to move away from mega-farms. Mega-farms are a fire hazard, but above all a breeding ground for viral particles. Consider the avian influenza virus, which is not inherently lethal. Yet because livestock animals live in close proximity to one another, this is precisely what it becomes – the virus mutates far more readily under such conditions. High density also promotes reassortment of viruses: different variants come together more easily, giving rise to a new, more resistant virus. In mega-farms, even the fastest-killing viruses still have time to be transmitted.4
Fortunately, the 5.8 million birds do not die in vain. Their animal products are used to generate electricity – a grim silver lining.5
Nikki de Bruijn,
on behalf of the Utrecht Biology Association
This is the 4th instalment of the student column relay, this time contributed by UBV
Insects as a mirror of colonialism
Whilst the world reacts with shock to the use of terms such as ‘insects that must be exterminated’ in the Gaza Strip, this form of imagery can also be found in our own history. In the Dutch colonial past, for example, mosquitoes, cockroaches and crickets were described not only as pests, but also as symbols used to reduce and dehumanise people.
In colonial novels set in the Dutch East Indies, such as those by Haasse and Lulofs, insects are strikingly often deployed to characterise the indigenous environment and population. The malaria mosquito, an objectively real danger, became a symbol of a hostile environment. Cockroaches and flies, known for their association with rotting material, were used as metaphors for unhygienic ‘natives’. And the nocturnal sounds of crickets and beautiful butterflies were employed to sketch an exotic, unspoilt, natural backdrop in which the indigenous person was barely more than landscape. This paved the way for the exploitation of nature. In Orpheus in de Dessa, Augusta de Wit compares a helpless, indigenous Indonesian man to a ‘half-crushed insect’. Even empathy, it seems, was captured in the language of colonial imagery.
Insect biology was thus used to reinforce colonial ideologies: both nature and people had to be brought under control. In this way, the focus shifted from individual human beings to a mass that, like a swarm of mosquitoes, had to be combated.
Although in postcolonial literature nature plays an ever-diminishing role, this imagery remains present in our society. In public debate about migration, we hear words such as invasion and plague – biological terms that dehumanise.
As biologists, we understand better than most that insects are fascinating, useful and complex. That is precisely why we must remain vigilant about how those biological characteristics are distorted in the service of politics or power.
Luc Elshout,
on behalf of the Wageningen student association BVW Biologica
This is the 5th instalment of the student column relay, contributed by BVW Biologica
Unfortunately, the column from the Amsterdam student association Congo is missing here. This also means that Congo will not be competing for the Bionieuws column prize in this final edition of the column relay.
No submission,
on behalf of the Amsterdam student association Congo (Comt Onooslen Naerstighlijck Gheleertheydt Ontvanghen)
This would have been the 6th instalment of the column relay, (not) contributed by Congo
I recently took up birdwatching. Inspired by a podcast, I now cycle out every now and then to a nearby spot where there are few people and plenty of birds, armed with nothing but a pair of binoculars.
It is a new hobby, one that I am obviously still nowhere near good at. I have no idea where or when I might encounter the most unusual species in my area. When it comes to identification, I cannot get much further than the most common birds. Most of the time I do not dare to make a confident identification down to species level. I lump a great many observations under the abbreviation LBB (Little Brown Bird). I can only dream of the day when I can distinguish a European robin from a stonechat by ear alone. Among my friends and acquaintances there are a number of enthusiasts who have been birdwatching for years, which does little to help my impostor syndrome.
And yet birdwatching has already improved my life. I use it very handily as extra motivation to get up in the morning, which is slowly helping my sleep pattern recover. On top of that, I am noticeably more cheerful when I start the day in the fresh air.
Of course, birdwatching is like almost everything else: practice makes perfect. I can now point out duck species with a little more confidence – species whose existence I did not even know about a month ago – and I perk up immediately when I hear the distinctive call of a common chiffchaff. And I can join in the conversation just a little with the experienced birders around me, which means I learn a great deal more.
In that respect, birdwatching is a positive feedback loop. I pay more and more attention to what is flying and hopping around me, which means I recognise more and more birds, and want to go out more and more often to pursue my new hobby.
Floris Krieger,
On behalf of the Leiden Biology Club
This is the 7th instalment of the column relay for students, this time contributed by the Leiden Biology Club
Unfortunately, the column from the student association BiotaNatura is missing here. This also means that BiotaNatura will not be competing for the Bionieuws column prize in this final edition of the column relay.
No submission,
On behalf of student association Biota Natura of Applied Biology at HAS Green Academy in Den Bosch
This should have been the 8th and final instalment of the column relay for students, this time (not) contributed by Biota Natura
ILLUSTRATION: ANNEMARIE ROOS & MOEBIUS