Showing posts with label James Burke. Show all posts
Showing posts with label James Burke. Show all posts

Tuesday 23 May 2017

Water, water, everywhere: the hidden holism of H2O

Like other northern regions of New Zealand, the summer of 2017 saw Auckland residents facing City Council requests to conserve water, as well as a hosepipe ban in effect during March and April. It therefore seems ironic that the water shortage occurred at the same time as flooding in the west of the city; thanks to a tropical downpour - one of several so far this year - the equivalent of an entire month's rain fell over a day or two. Clearly, water shortages are going to become an ever-increasing issue, even in nations with well-developed infrastructure.

The British historian of science James Burke, writer-presenter of The Day the Universe Changed, also made three television series called Connections 1, 2 and 3 (in 1978, 1994 and 1997 respectively) which examined the historical threads linking scientific and technological advances with changes in other areas of society. Therefore I'd like to take a similarly holistic approach to the wonderful world of water consumption and see how it ties into the world in general.

Although the statistics vary - it's difficult to assess with any great precision - there are published figures suggesting that the populace of richer nations use up to 5000 litres of water each per day, mostly hidden in food production. Many websites now supply details of the amount of water used to grown certain crops and foodstuffs, so you can easily raise your guilt level simply by comparing your diet to the water involved in its generation; and that's without considering the carbon mileage or packaging waste, either!

I've previously discussed the high environmental cost of cattle farming, with both dairy and beef herds being prominent culprits in water pollution as well as consumption. However, there are plenty of less-obvious foodstuffs proven to be notorious water consumers, for example avocado and almonds. Although the latter might be deemed a luxury food, much of the global supply is now used to make almond milk; with consumption increasing up to 40% year-on-year, this is one foodstuff much in demand.

Even though it is claimed to require much less water than the equivalent volume of dairy produce, almond farming is still relevant due to the massive increase in bulk production, especially in California (home to 80% of the global almond harvest). The reasons for the popularity of almond milk are probably two-fold: firstly, the public is getting more health-conscious; and secondly, a reduction or abstention in dairy produce is presumed to lessen food allergies/intolerance. These obviously link to prominent concerns in the West, in the form of high-calorie/low-exercise diets leading to mass obesity and over-use of cleaning chemicals in the home, preventing children from developing good anti-microbial resistance. Clearly, there is a complex web when it comes to water and the human race.

Even for regions chronically short of water such as California, more than three-quarters of fresh water usage is by agriculture. In order to conserve resources, is it likely that we may soon face greater taxes on commercially-grown water-hogging produce and bans on the home-growth of crops that have a low nutrition to water consumption ratio? I've recently read several books discussing probable issues over the next half century with the humble lettuce appearing as a good example of the latter.

Talking of which, the wet and windy conditions in New Zealand of the past year - blamed at least partially on La Niña - have led to record prices for common vegetables: NZ$9 for a lettuce and NZ$10 for a cauliflower, even in major supermarket chains. British supermarkets were forced to ration some fruit and vegetables back in February, due to their Mediterranean growers suffering from storms and floods. This suggests that even for regions with sophisticated agricultural practices there is a fine line between too much and too little fresh water. Isn't it about time that the main food producers developed a more robust not to mention future-proof infrastructure, considering the increased impact that climate change is likely to have?

The world is also paying a heavy price for bottled water, a commercial enterprise that largely breaks all boundaries of common sense. In the USA alone it costs several thousand times the equivalent volume of tap water and there are some reports that there may be chemical leaching from reusing plastic bottles. As you might expect, there is also an extremely high environmental cost. This includes the fossil fuels used by bottling plants and transportation, the lowering of the water table (whose level is so critical in areas utilising less sophisticated farming technologies) and the impact of plastic waste: the USA only recycles about 23% of its plastic water bottles, resulting in 38 billion bottles dumped each year at a cost of around US$1 billion. All in all, bottled water for nations with highly developed infrastructure seems like an insane use of critical resources.

Although accelerated population growth has become a widespread fear, there are indicators that later this century the global figure may peak at around nine billion and then level off. Increasing urbanisation is seen a primary cause for this and not just in developing nations; Auckland for example (New Zealand's largest city by far) experienced 8% population growth in the seven years from 2006. A larger population obviously requires more food, but a more urban and therefore generally better educated, higher income populace tends to demand access to processed, non-local and above all water-intensive foods. China is the touchstone here, having seen a massive increase in fish and meat consumption over the past half century; the latter has risen from 8 million tons per year in 1978 to over 70 million tons in recent years.

It has been claimed that 70% of industrial waste generated in developing nations is dumped into water courses, meaning that there will be a massive cost for environmental clean-up before local sources can be fully utilised. The mass outbreak of E-coli in Hawke's Bay, New Zealand, in February this year shows that even developed nations are having difficulty maintaining water quality, whilst there has been a shocking admittance of lead contamination above safe levels in 41 American states over the past three years. Does this mean bottled water - heretofore the lifeline of Western tourists abroad - is becoming a necessity in the West after all?

Some might argue that thanks to global warming there will be more water available due to the melting of polar caps and glaciers, which after all contain almost two-thirds of the world's fresh water resources. However, these sources are mostly located far from high-density populations and upon marine contamination they require energy-demanding desalination technology. It's small comfort that current estimates suggest that by 2025 about 14% of the global population will rely on desalination plants for their fresh water needs.

In the West we tend to take clean, safe water completely for granted but thanks to the demands of living in a society run on rampant consumerism - coupled with poor science education - everyday decisions are being made that affect the environment, waste critical resources and damage our own health. Pundits are predicting that water will be the new oil: liquid gold, a precious commodity to be fought over, if necessary. Surely this is one resource that all of us can do something to support, whether it is cutting down on water-intensive foodstuffs, using tap rather than bottled water, or simply turning off a tap sooner than usual!

Friday 26 August 2016

The benefit of hindsight: the truth behind several infamous science quotes

With utmost apologies to Jane Austen fans, it is a truth universally acknowledged that most people misinterpret science as an ever-expanding corpus of knowledge rather than as a collection of methods for investigating natural phenomena. A simplistic view for those who adhere to the former misapprehension might include questioning science as a whole when high-profile practitioners make an authoritative statement that is proven - in a scientific sense - to be incorrect.

Amongst the more obvious examples of this are the numerous citations from prominent STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics) professionals that are inaccurate to such an extreme as to appear farcical in light of later evidence. I have already discussed the rather vague of art of scientific prognostication in several connected posts but now want to directly examine several quotations concerning applied science. Whereas many quotes are probably as deserving of contempt as the popular opinion of them, I believe the following require careful reading and knowledge of their context in which to attempt any meaningful judgement.

Unlike Hollywood, STEM subjects are frequently too complex for simple black versus white analysis. Of course there have been rather derisible opinions espoused by senior scientists, many of which - luckily - remain largely unknown to the wider public. The British cosmologist and astronomer Sir Fred Hoyle has a large number of these just to himself, from continued support for the Steady State theory long after the detection of cosmic microwave background radiation, to the even less defensible claims that the Natural History Museum's archaeopteryx fossil is a fake and that flu germs are really alien microbes!

Anyhow, here's the first quote:

1) Something is seriously wrong with space travel.

Richard van der Riet Woolley was the British Astronomer Royal at the dawn of the Space Age. His most infamous quote is the archetypal instance of Arthur C. Clarke's First Law:  "When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong."

Although a prominent astronomer, van der Riet Woolley had little knowledge of the practical mechanics that would be required for spaceflight. By the mid-1930s the British Interplanetary Society had developed detailed (although largely paper-only) studies into a crewed lunar landing mission. In 1936 Van der Riet Woolley publically criticised such work, stating that the development of even an unmanned rocket would present fundamental technical difficulties. Bear in mind that this was only six years before the first V2 rocket, which was capable of reaching an altitude of just over 200km!

In 1956, only one year before Sputnik 1 - and thirteen years prior to Apollo 11 - the astronomer went on to claim that near-future space travel was unlikely and a manned lunar landing "utter bilge, really". Of course this has been used as ammunition against him ever since, but the quote deserves some investigation. Van der Riet Woolley goes on to reveal that his primary objection appears to have changed (presumably post-V2 and its successors) from an engineering problem to an economic one, stating that it would cost as much as a "major war" to land on the moon.

This substantially changes the flavour of his quote, since it is after all reasonably accurate. In 2010 dollars, Project Apollo has an estimated budget of about US$109 billion - incidentally about 11% of the cost of the contemporary Vietnam War. In addition, we should bear in mind that a significant amount of the contractors' work on the project is said to have consisted of unpaid overtime. Is it perhaps time to reappraise the stargazer from a reactionary curmudgeon to an economic realist?

Indeed, had Apollo been initiated in a subsequent decade, there is reasonable evidence to suggest it would have failed to leave the ground, so to speak. The uncertainty of the post-Vietnam and Watergate period, followed by the collapse of the Soviet Union, suggest America's loss of faith in technocracy would have effectively cut Apollo off in its prime. After all, another colossal American science and engineering project, the $12 billion particle accelerator the Superconducting Super Collider, was cancelled in 1993 after being deemed unaffordable. Yet up to that point only about one-sixth of its estimated budget had been spent.

In addition, van der Riet Woolley was not alone among STEM professionals: for three decades from the mid-1920s the inventor of the vacuum tube Lee De Forest is said to have claimed that space travel was impractical. Clearly, the Astronomer Royal was not an isolated voice in the wilderness but part of a large consensus opposed to the dreamers in the British Interplanetary Society and their ilk. Perhaps we should allow him his pragmatism, even if it appears a polar opposite to one of Einstein's great aphorisms: "The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. .."

Talking of whom…

2) Letting the genie out of the bottle.

In late 1934 an American newspaper carried this quotation from Albert Einstein: "There is not the slightest indication that (nuclear energy) will ever be obtainable. It would mean that the atom would have to be shattered at will." This seems to be rather amusing, considering the development of the first self-sustaining nuclear chain reaction only eight years later. But Einstein was first and foremost a theorist, a master of the thought experiment, his father's work in electrical engineering not being noticeably sustained in his son. There is obviously a vast world of difference between imagining riding a beam of light to the practical difficulties in assembling brand new technologies with little in the way of precedent. So why did Einstein make such a definitive prediction?

I think it is possible that it may also have been wishful thinking on Einstein's part; as a pacifist he would have dreaded the development of a new super weapon. As the formulator of the equivalence between mass and energy, he could have felt in some way responsible for initiating the avalanche that eventually led to Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Yet there is no clear path between E=mc2 and a man-made chain reaction; it took a team of brilliant experimental physicists and engineers in addition to theorists to achieve a practical solution, via the immense budget of $26 billion (in 2016 dollars).

It is hardly as if the good professor was alone in his views either, as senior officials also doubted the ability to harness atomic fission for power or weaponry. In 1945 when the Manhattan Project was nearing culmination, the highest-ranking member of the American military, Fleet Admiral William Leahy, apparently informed President Truman that the atomic bomb wouldn't work. Perhaps this isn't as obtuse as it sounds, since due to the level of security only a very small percentage of the personnel working on the project knew any of the details.

Leahy clearly knew exactly what the intended outcome was, but even as "an expert in explosives" had no understanding of the complexity of engineering involved. An interesting associated fact is that despite being a military man, the Admiral considered the atomic bomb unethical for its obvious potential as an indiscriminate killer of civilians. Weapons of mass destruction lack any of the valour or bravado of traditional 'heroic' warfare.  Is it possible that this martial leader wanted the bomb to fail for moral reasons, a case of heart over mind? In which case, is this a rare example in which the pacifism of the most well-known scientist was in total agreement with a military figurehead?

Another potential cause is the paradigm shift that harnessing the power of the atom required. In the decade prior to the Manhattan Project, New Zealand physicist Ernest Rutherford had referred to the possibility of man-made atomic energy as "moonshine" whilst another Nobel laureate, American physicist Robert Millikan, had made similar sentiments in the 1920s. And this from men who were pioneers in understanding the structure of the atom!

As science communicator James Burke vividly described in his 1985 television series The Day the Universe Changed, major scientific developments often require substantial reappraisals in outlook, seeing beyond what is taken for granted. The cutting edge of physics is often described as being ruled by theorists in their twenties; eager young turks who are more prepared to ignore precedents. When he became a pillar of the establishment, Einstein ruefully commented: "To punish me for my contempt for authority, fate made me an authority myself."

Perhaps then, such fundamental shifts in technology as the development of space travel and nuclear fission require equally revolutionary changes in mind set and we shouldn't judge the authors of our example quotes too harshly. Then again, if you are an optimist, Clarke's First Law might seem applicable in this situation, in which case quotes from authority figures with some knowledge of the subject in hand should take note of the ingenuity of our species. If there is a moral to this to story, it is other than the speed of light in a vacuum and the Second Law of Thermodynamics, never say never...

Thursday 28 May 2015

Presenting the universe: 3 landmark science documentary series

They say you carry tastes from your formative years with you for the rest of your life, so perhaps this explains why there are three science documentary television series that still have the power to enchant some decades after first viewing. Whilst there has been no shortage of good television science programming since - Planet Earth and the Walking with... series amongst them - there are three that remain the standard by which I judge all others:
  1. The Ascent of Man (1972) - an account of how humanity has evolved culturally and technology via biological and man-made tools. Presented by mathematician and renaissance man Jacob Bronowski.
  2. Cosmos (1980) - the history of astronomy and planetary exploration, interwoven with the origins of life. Presented by Carl Sagan (as if you didn't know).
  3. The Day the Universe Changed (1985) - a study of how scientific and technological breakthroughs in Western society generate paradigm shifts. Presented by the historian of science James Burke.

All three series have been proclaimed 'landmark' shows so it is interesting to compare their themes, viewpoints and production techniques, discovering just how similar they are in many ways. For a start, their excellent production values allowed for a wide range of international locations and historical recreations. They each have a charismatic presenter who admits to espousing a personal viewpoint, although it's quite easy to note that they get progressively more casual: if Jacob Bronowski has the appearance of a warm elder statesman then Carl Sagan is the father figure for a subsequent generation of scientists; James Burke's on-screen persona is more akin to the cheeky uncle, with a regular supply of puns, some good, some less so.

To some extent it is easy to see that the earliest series begat the second that in turn influenced the third. In fact, there is a direct link in that Carl Sagan hired several of the producers from The Ascent of Man for his own series, clearly seeing the earlier show as a template for Cosmos. What all three have is something extremely rare in other science documentaries: a passion for the arts that promotes a holistic interpretation of humanity's development; science does not exist in isolation. As such, the programmes are supported by superbly-illustrated tie-in books that extend the broadcast material from the latter two series whilst Bronowski's book is primarily a transcript of his semi-improvised monologue.

In addition to considering some of the standard examples of key developments in Western civilisation such as Ancient Greece and Galileo, the series include the occasional examination of Eastern cultures. The programmes also contain discussions of religions, both West and East. In fact, between them the series cover a vast amount of what has made the world the way it is. So not small potatoes, then!

The series themselves:

The Ascent of Man

To some extent, Jacob Bronowski was inspired by the earlier series Civilisation, which examined the history of Western arts. Both series were commissioned by David Attenborough, himself a natural sciences graduate who went on to present ground-breaking series in his own discipline as well as commissioning these landmark programmes. (As an aside, if there are any presenters around today who appears to embody the antithesis of C.P. Snow's 'the two cultures' then Sir David is surely in the top ten).

Bronowski's presentation is an astonishingly erudite (for all its improvisation) analysis of the development of our species and its technological society. Although primarily focused on the West, there is some consideration of other regions, from the advanced steel-making technology of medieval Japan to Meso-American astronomy or the relatively static culture of Easter Island. Time and again, the narrative predates the encumbrance of political correctness: that it was the West that almost solely generated our modern technological society - the 'rage for knowledge' for once outshining dogma and inertia.

Of course, it would be interesting to see how Bronowski might have written it today, in light of Jared Diamond's ground-breaking (in my humble opinion) Guns, Germs and Steel. Although he works hard to present science, the plastic arts, literature and myth as emerging from the same basic elements of our nature, it is clear that Bronowski considers the former to be much rarer - and therefore the more precious - discipline. Having said that, Bronowski makes a large number of Biblical references, primarily from the Old Testament. In light of the current issues with fundamentalism in the USA and elsewhere, it is doubtful that any science documentary today would so easily incorporate the breadth of religious allusions.

If there is a thesis underlying the series it is that considering how natural selection has provided humanity with a unique combination of mental gifts, we should use them to exploit the opportunities thus presented. By having foresight and imagination, our species is the only one capable of great heights - and, as he makes no pretence of - terrible depths. As he considers the latter, Bronowski admits that we should remain humble as to the state of contemporary knowledge and technology, which five hundred years hence will no doubt appear childlike. In addition, he states that belief in absolute knowledge can lead to arrogance; if we aspire to be gods, it can only end in the likes of Auschwitz. But his final speeches contain the wonderful notion that the path to annihilation can be avoided if science is communicated to all of society with the same vigour and zest as given to the humanities.

Cosmos

I was already an astronomy and astronautics fan when I saw this series. Its first UK broadcast slot was somewhat later than my usual bedtime, so it seemed a treat to be allowed to stay up after the rest of the family had gone to bed. Like Star Wars a few years before, it appeared to me to be an audio-visual tour-de-force; not surprisingly, both the tie-in hardback and soundtrack album arrived on my birthday that year.

Nostalgia aside, another key reason for the series' success was the charisma of the presenter himself. Much has been written of Sagan's abilities as a self-publicist, and the programmes do suffer from rather too many staring-beatifically-into-the-distance shots (as to some extent replicated more recently by Brian Cox in his various Wonders Of... series). Of course, it must have taken considerable effort to get the series made in the first place, especially in gaining a budget of over $6 million. After all, another great science populariser, the evolutionary biologist Stephen Jay Gould, never managed to gain anything beyond the occasional one-off documentary.

What is most apparent is Sagan's deep commitment to presenting science to the widest possible audience without distorting the material through over-simplification. However, in retrospect it is also obvious that he was using ideas from several scientific disciplines, such as the Miller-Urey experiment, to bolster his opinions on the likelihood of extra-terrestrial life. To some extent his co-writers reined him in, the final episode given over not to SETI but to plea for environmental stewardship.

Whilst the series is primarily concerned with a global history of astronomy and astrophysics, supplemented with first-hand accounts of planetary exploration, Sagan like Bronowski is equally at home with other scientific disciplines. He discusses the evolution of intelligence and incorporates elements of the humanities with equal aplomb. Another key element is the discussion of the role superstition and dead ends have played in the hindrance or even advancement of scientific progress, from Pythagorean mysticism, via Kepler's conflation of planetary orbits with the five Platonic solids, to Percival Lowell's imaginary Martian canals. Although Sagan repeats his earlier debunking of astrology, UFO sightings and the like, he doesn't rule out the role of emotions in the advancement of science and technology, citing for example the rocket pioneer Robert Goddard's Mars-centred epiphany.

Perhaps the primary reason that the series - despite the obvious dating of some of the knowledge - is still so engaging and why Sagan's narration is so widely quoted, is that he was a prose poet par excellence. Even when discussing purely scientific issues, his tone was such that the information could be effortlessly absorbed whilst allowing the viewer to retain a sense of wonder. Of course, Sagan had ample assistance from his two co-writers Ann Druyan and Steven Soter, as clearly proven by their scripts for the Neil deGrasse Tyson-hosted remake Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey. Nonetheless, it is hard to think of another presenter who could have made the original series the success it was on so many levels.

The Day the Universe Changed

Although James Burke had already made a large-scale history of science and technology series called Connections in 1978, it contained a rather different take on some of the same material. By focussing on interactive webs, the earlier series was somewhat glib, in that some of the connections could probably be replaced by equally valid alternatives.

In contrast, The Day the Universe Changed uses a more conventional approach that clearly shares some of the same perspectives as the earlier programmes. Like The Ascent of Man and the Cosmos remake, mediaeval Islamic science is praised for its inquisitiveness as well as the preservation of Classical knowledge. Burke was clearly influenced by his predecessors, even subtitling the series 'A Personal View by James Burke'. Perhaps inevitably he covers some of the same material too, although it would be difficult to create a brief history without reference to Newton or Ancient Greece.

As with Bronowski, Burke integrates scientific advances within wider society, a notable example being the rediscovery of perspective and its profound effect on contemporary art. He also supports the notion that rather than a gradual series of changes, paradigm shifts are fundamental to major scientific breakthroughs. In effect, he claims that new versions of the truth - as understood by a scientific consensus - may rely on abandonment of previous theories due to their irreconcilable differences. Having recently read Rachel Carson's 1950 The Sea Around Us I can offer some agreement: although Carson's geophysical analysis quietly screams in favour of plate tectonics, the contemporary lack of evidence lead her to state the no doubt establishment mantra of the period concerning static land masses.

What Burke constantly emphasises even more than his predecessors is that time and place has a fundamental influence on the scientific enquiry of each period. Being immersed in the preconceived notions of their culture, scientists can find it as difficult as anyone else to gain an objective attitude. In actuality, it is all but impossible, leading to such farcical dead-ends as Piltdown Man, a hoax that lasted for decades because it fulfilled the jingoistic expectations of British scientists. Burke's definition of genius is someone who can escape the givens of their background and thus achieve mental insights that no amount of methodical plodding can equal. Well, perhaps, on occasion.

The series also goes further than its predecessors in defining religion as anti-scientific on two grounds: its demand for absolute obedience in the face of logic and evidence, with reference to Galileo; or the lack of interest in progress, as with the cyclical yet static Buddhist view, content for the universe to endlessly repeat itself. Burke also shows how scientific ideas can be perverted for political ends, as with social Darwinism. But then he goes on to note that as the world gets ever more complex, and changes at an ever faster rate, non-specialists are unable to test new theories in any degree and so are having to rely on authority just as much as before the Enlightenment. How ironic!

All in all, these common threads are to my mind among the most important elements of the three series:
  1. Science and the humanities rely on the same basic processes of the human brain and so are not all that different;
  2. Scientific thinking can be as creative an endeavour as the arts;
  3. Scientists don't live in a cultural vacuum but are part and parcel of their world and time;
  4. Religion is the most change-resistant of human activities and therefore rarely appears sympathetic to science's aims and goals.

As Carl Sagan put it, "we make our world significant by the courage of our questions and the depth of our answers." For me, these three series are significant for their appraisal of some of those courageous explorers who have given us the knowledge and tools we call science.