The uncertainty principle: does popular sci-comm imply more than is really known?

Over the years I've examined how ignorance in science can be seen as a positive thing and how it can be used to define the discipline, a key contrast to most religions. We're still a long way from understanding many fundamental aspects of the universe, but the religious fundamentalist (see what I did there?) mindset is seemingly unable to come to terms with this position and so incorporates lack of knowledge into arguments disparaging science. After all, the hackneyed train of thought goes, scientific theories are really only that, an idea, not something proven beyond all possible doubt. Of course this isn't the case, but thanks to the dire state of most school science education, with the emphasis on exams and fact-stuffing rather than analysis of what science really is (a group of methods, not a collection of facts) - let alone anything that tries to teach critical thinking - you can see why some people fall prey to such disinformation, i.e. that most science isn't proven to any degree of certainty.

With this in mind, you have to wonder what percentage of general audience science communication describes theories with much more certainty than is warranted, when instead there is really a dearth of data that creates a partial reliance on inferred reasoning. Interestingly, the complete opposite used to be a common statement; for example, in the nineteenth century the composition of stars was thought to be forever unknowable, but thanks to spectroscopy that particular wonder came to fruition from the 1860s onwards. It is presumably the speed of technological change today that has reduced that negativity, yet it can play into the anti-rationalist hands of religious hardliners if scientists claim absolute certainty for any particular theory (the Second Law of Thermodynamics excepted). 

As it is, many theories are based on a limited amount of knowledge (both evidential and mathematical) that rely on an expert filling in of the gaps. As an aside, the central tenet of evolution by natural selection really isn't one of these: the various sources of evidence, from fossils to DNA, provide comprehensive support to the theory. However, there are numerous other areas which rely on a fairly small smattering of physical evidence and a lot of inference. This isn't to say the latter is wrong - Nobel-winning physicist Richard Feynman once said that a scientific idea starts with a guess - but to a non-specialist this approach can appear somewhat slapdash.

Geophysics appears to rely on what a layman might consider vague correlations rather than exact matches. For example, non-direct observation techniques such as measuring seismic waves have allowed the mapping of the interior composition of the Earth; unless you are an expert in the field, the connection between the experimental results and clear-cut zones seem more like guesswork. Similarly, geologists have been able to create maps of the continental plates dating back around 600 million years, before which the position of land masses hasn't been so much vague as completely unknown. 

The time back to the Cambrian is less than fifteen percent of the age our 4.5 billion year old planet. This (hopefully) doesn't keep the experts up at night, as well-understood geophysical forces mean that rock is constantly being subducted underground, to be transformed and so no longer available for recording. In addition, for its first 1.3 billion years the planet's surface would have been too hot to allow plates to form. Even so, the position of the continental crust from the Cambrian period until today is mapped to a high level of detail at frequent time intervals; this is because enough is known of the mechanisms involved that if a region at the start of a period is in position A and is later found at position Z, it must have passed through intermediate positions B through Y en route.

One key geological puzzle related to the building and movement of continental rock strata is known as the Great Unconformity, essentially a 100 million year gap in the record that occurs in numerous locations worldwide for the period when complex multicellular life arose. In some locales the period expands both forwards and backwards to as much as a billion years of missing rock; that's a lot of vanished material! Most of the popular science I've read tends to downplay the absent strata, presumably because in the 150 years since the Great Unconformity was first noticed there hasn't been a comprehensive resolution to its cause. The sheer scale of the issue suggests a profound level of ignorance within geology. Yes, it is a challenge, but it doesn't negate the science in its entirety; on the other hand, it's exactly the sort of problem that fundamentalists can use as ammunition to promote their own versions of history, such as young Earth creationism.

In recent decades, the usually conservative science of geology has been examining the evidence for an almost global glaciation nicknamed 'Snowball Earth' (or 'Slushball Earth', depending on how widespread you interpret the evidence for glaciation). It appears to have occurred several times in the planet's history, with the strongest evidence for it occurring between 720 and 635 million years ago. What is so important about this era is that it is precisely the time (at least in geological terms) when after several billion years of microbial life, large and sophisticated, multicellular organisms rapidly evolved during the inaccurately-titled Cambrian explosion.

All in all then, the epoch under question is extremely important. But just how are the Great Unconformity, global glaciation and the evolution of complex biota connected? Since 2017 research, including from three Australian universities, has led to the publication of the first tectonic plate map centred on this critical period. Using various techniques, including measuring the oxygen isotopes within zircon crystals, the movements of the continents has been reconstructed further back in time than ever before. The resulting hypothesis is a neat one (perhaps overly so, although it appears to be tenable): the top 3km to 5km of surface rock was first eroded by glacial activity, then washed into the oceans - where the minerals kick-started the Ediacaran and early Cambrian biota -  before being subducted by tectonic activity. 

The conclusion doesn't please some skeptics but the combined evidence, including the erosion of impact craters and a huge increase in sedimentation during the period, gives further support, with the additional inference that an immense increase in shallow marine environments (thanks to the eroded material raising the seafloor) had become available for new ecological niches. In addition, the glacial scouring of the primary biominerals calcium carbonate, calcium phosphate and silicon dioxide into the oceans altered the water chemistry and could have paved the way for the first exoskeletons and hard shells, both by providing their source material and also generating a need for them in the first place, in order to gain protection from the changes in water chemistry.

Deep-time thermochronology isn't a term most of us are familiar with, but the use of new dating techniques is beginning to suggest solutions to some big questions. Not that there aren't plenty of other fundamental questions (the nature of non-baryonic matter and dark energy, anyone?) still to be answered. The scale of the unknown should not be used to denigrate science; not knowing something doesn't mean science isn't the tool for the job. One of its more comforting (at least to its practitioners) aspects is that good science always generates more questions than it answers. To expect simple, easy, straightforward solutions should be left to other human endeavours that relish just-so stories. While working theories are often elegant and simpler than alternatives, we should expect filling in the gaps as a necessity, not a weapon used to invalidate the scientific method or its discoveries. 

Core solidification and the Cambrian explosion: did one begat the other?

Let's face it, we all find it easier to live our lives with the help of patterns. Whether it's a daily routine or consultation of an astrology column (insert expletive of choice here) - or even us amateur astronomers guiding our telescopes via the constellations - our continued existence relies on patterns. After all, if we didn't innately recognise our mother's face or differentiate harmless creatures from the shape of a predator, we wouldn't last long. So it shouldn't be any surprise that scientists also rely on patterns to investigate the complexities of creation.

Richard Feynman once said that a scientific hypothesis starts with a guess, which should perhaps be taken with a pinch of salt. But nonetheless scientists like to use patterns when considering explanations for phenomena; at a first glance, this technique matches the principle of parsimony, or Occam's Razor, i.e. the simplest explanation is usually the correct one - excluding quantum mechanics, of course!

An example in which a potential pattern was widely publicised prior to confirmation via hard data was that of periodic mass extinction, the idea being that a single cause might be behind the five greatest extinction events. Four years after Luis Alvarez's team's suggestion that the 66 million year-old Chicxulub impactor could have caused the Cretaceous-Paleogene extinction, paleontologists David Raup and Jack Sepkoski published a 1984 paper hypothesising extinctions at regular intervals due to extraterrestrial impacts.

This necessitated the existance of an object that could cause a periodic gravitational perturbation, in order for asteroids and comets to be diverted into the inner solar system. The new hypothesis was that we live in binary star system, with a dwarf companion star in an highly elliptical, 26 million-year orbit. This would be responsible for the perturbation when it was at perihelion (i.e. closest approach to the sun).

What's interesting is that despite the lack of evidence, the hypothesis was widely publicised in popular science media, with the death-dealing star being appropriately named Nemesis after the Greek goddess of retribution. After all, the diversification of mammals was a direct result of the K-T extinction and so of no small importance to our species.

Unfortunately, further research has shown that mass extinctions don't fall into a neat 26 million-year cycle. In addition, orbiting and ground-based telescopes now have the ability to detect Nemesis and yet have failed to do so. It appears that the hypothesis has reached a dead end; our local corner of the universe probably just isn't as tidy as we would like it to be.

Now another hypothesis has appeared that might appear to belong in a similar category of neat pattern matching taking precedence over solid evidence. Bearing in mind the importance of the subject under scrutiny - the origin of complex life - are researchers jumping the gun in order to gain kudos if proven correct? A report on 565 million year-old minerals from Quebec, Canada, suggests that at that time the Earth's magnetic field was less than ten percent of what it is today. This is considerably lower than earlier estimate of forty percent. Also, the magnetic poles appear to have reversed far more frequently during this period than they have since.

As this is directly related to the composition of the Earth's core, it has led to speculation that the inner core was then in the final stage of solidification. This would have caused increased movement in the outer liquid, iron-rich core, and thus to the rapid generation of a much higher magnetic field. In turn, the larger the magnetic field dipole intensity, the lower the amount of high energy particles that reach the Earth's surface, both cosmic rays and from our own sun. What is particularly interesting about this time is that it is just (i.e. about twenty million years) prior to the so-called Cambrian explosion, following three billion years or so of only microbial life. So were these geophysical changes responsible for a paradigm shift in evolution? To confirm, we would need to confirm the accuracy of this apparently neat match.

It's well known that some forms of bacteria can survive in much higher radiation environments than us larger scale life forms; extremophiles such as Deinococcus radiodurans have even been found thriving inside nuclear reactors. Therefore it would seem obvious that more complex organisms couldn't evolve until the magnetic field was fairly high. But until circa 430 million years ago there was no life on land (there is now evidence that fungi may have been the first organisms to survive in this harsh environment). If all life was therefore in the sea, wouldn't the deep ocean have provided the necessary radiation protection for early plants and animals?

By 600 million years ago the atmospheric oxygen content was only about ten percent of today's value; clearly, those conditions would not have been much use to pretty much any air-breathing animals we know to have ever existed. In addition, the Ediacaran assemblage, albeit somewhat different from most subsequent higher animals, arose no later than this time - with chemical evidence suggesting their development stretched back a further 100 million years. Therefore the Canadian magnetic mineral evidence seems to be too late for the core solidification/higher magnetic field generation to have given the kick start to a more sophisticated biota.

In addition, we shouldn't forget that it is the ozone layer that acts as an ultraviolet shield; UVB is just as dangerous to many organisms, including near-surface marine life, as cosmic rays and high-energy solar particles. High-altitude ozone is thought to have reached current density by 600 million years ago, with blue-green algae as its primary source. O2 levels also increased at this time, perhaps driven by climate change at the end of a global glaciation.

Although the "Snowball Earth" hypothesis - that at least half of all ocean water was frozen solid during three or four periods of glaciation - is still controversial, there is something of a correlation in time between the geophysical evidence and the emergence of the Ediacaran fauna. As to the cause of this glacial period, it is thought to have been a concatenation of circumstances, with emergent plate tectonics as a primary factor.

How to conclude? Well, we would all like to find neat, obvious solutions, especially to key questions about our own origin. Unfortunately, the hypothesis based on the magnetic mineral evidence appears to selectively ignore the evolution of the Ediacaran life forms and the development of the ozone layer. The correlation between the end of "Snowball Earth" and the Ediacaran biota evolution is on slightly firmer ground, but the period is so long ago that even dating deposits cannot be accurate except to the nearest million years or so.

It's certainly a fascinating topic, so let's hope that one day the evidence will be solid enough for us to finally understand how and when life took on the complexity we take for granted. Meanwhile, I would take any speculation based on new evidence with a Feynman-esque pinch of salt; the universe frequently fails to match the nice, neat, parcels of explanations we would like it to. Isn't that one of the factors that makes science so interesting in the first place?

Hammer and chisel: the top ten reasons why fossil hunting is so important

At a time when the constantly evolving world of consumer digital technology seems to echo the mega-budget, cutting-edge experiments of the LHC and LIGO, is there still room for such an old-fashioned, low-tech science as paleontology?

The answer is of course yes, and while non-experts might see little difference between its practice today and that of its Eighteenth and Nineteenth Century pioneers, contemporary paleontology does on occasion utilise MRI scanners among other sophisticated equipment. I've previously discussed the delights of fossil hunting as an easy way to involve children in science, yet the apparent simplicity of its core techniques mask the key role that paleontology still plays in evolutionary biology.

Since the days of Watson and Crick molecular biology has progressed in leaps and bounds, yet the contemporary proliferation of cheap DNA-testing kits and television shows devoted to gene-derived genealogy obscure just how tentatively some of their results should be accepted. The levels of accuracy quoted in non-specialist media is often far greater than what can actually be attained. For example, the data on British populations has so far failed to separate those with Danish Viking ancestry from descendants of earlier Anglo-Saxon immigration, leading to population estimates at odds with the archaeological evidence.

Here then is a list of ten reasons why fossil hunting will always be a relevant branch of science, able to supply information that cannot be supplied by other scientific disciplines:

1. Locations. Although genetic evidence can show the broad sweeps connecting extant (and occasionally, recently-extinct) species, the details of where animals, plants or fungi evolved, migrated to - and when - relies on fossil evidence.
2. Absolute dating. While gene analysis can be used to obtain the dates of a last common ancestor shared by contemporary species, the results are provisional at best for when certain key groups or features evolved. Thanks to radiometric dating from some fossiliferous locales, paleontologists are able to fill in the gaps in fossil-filled strata that don't have radioactive mineralogy.
3. Initial versus canonical. Today we think of land-living tetrapods (i.e. amphibians, reptiles, mammals and birds) as having a maximum of five digits per limb. Although these are reduced in many species – as per horse's hooves – five is considered canonical. However, fossil evidence shows that early terrestrial vertebrates had up to eight digits on some or all of their limbs. We know genetic mutation adds extra digits, but this doesn't help reconstruct the polydactyly of ancestral species; only fossils provide confirmation.
4. Extinct life. Without finding their fossils, we wouldn't know of even such long-lasting and multifarious groups as the dinosaurs: how could we guess about the existence of a parasaurolophus from looking at its closest extant cousins, such as penguins, pelicans or parrots? There are also many broken branches in the tree of life, with such large-scale dead-ends as the pre-Cambrian Ediacaran biota. These lost lifeforms teach us something about the nature of evolution yet leave no genetic evidence.
5. Individual history. Genomes show the cellular state of an organism, but thanks to fossilised tooth wear, body wounds and stomach contents (including gastroliths) we have important insights into day-to-day events in the life of ancient animals. This has led to fairly detailed biographies of some creatures, prominent examples being Sue the T-Rex and Al the Allosaurus, their remains being comprehensive enough to identify various pathologies.
6. Paleoecology. Coprolites (fossilised faeces), along with the casts of burrows, help build a detailed enviromental picture that zoology and molecular biology cannot provide. Sometimes the best source of vegetation data comes from coprolites containing plant matter, due to the differing circumstances of decomposition and mineralisation.
7. External appearance. Thanks to likes of scanning electron microscopes, fossils of naturally mummified organisms or mineralised skin can offer details that are unlikely to be discovered by any other method. A good example that has emerged in the past two decades is the colour of feathered dinosaurs obtained from the shape of their melanosomes.
8. Climate analysis. Geological investigation can provide ancient climate data but fossil evidence, such as the giant insects of the Carboniferous period, confirm the hypothesis. After all, dragonflies with seventy centimetre wingspans couldn't survive with today's level of atmospheric oxygen.
9. Stratigraphy. Paleontology can help geologists trying to sequence an isolated section of folded stratigraphy that doesn't have radioactive mineralogy. By assessing the relative order of known fossil species, the laying down of the strata can be placed in the correct sequence.
10. Evidence of evolution. Unlike the theories and complex equipment used in molecular biology, anyone without expert knowledge can visit fossils in museums or in situ. They offer a prominent resource as defence against religious fundamentalism, as their ubiquity makes them difficult to explain by alternative theories. The fact that species are never found in strata outside their era supports the scientific view of life's development rather than those found in religious texts (the Old Testament, for example, erroneously states that birds were created prior to all other land animals).

To date, no DNA has been found over about 800,000 years old. This means that many of the details of the history of life rely primarily on fossil evidence. It's therefore good to note that even in an age of high-tech science, the painstaking techniques of paleontology can shed light on biology in a way unobtainable by more recent examples of the scientific toolkit. Of course, the study is far from fool-proof: it is thought that only about ten percent of all species have ever come to light in fossil form, with the found examples heavily skewed in favour of shallow marine environments.

Nevertheless, paleontology is a discipline that constantly proves its immense value in expanding our knowledge of the past in a way no religious text could ever do. It may be easy to understand what fossils are, but they are assuredly worth their weight in gold: precious windows onto an unrecoverable past.