Cerebral celebrities: do superstar scientists harm science?

One of my earliest blog posts concerned the media circus surrounding two of the most famous scientists alive today: British physicist Stephen Hawking and his compatriot the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. In addition to their scientific output, they are known in public circles thanks to a combination of their general readership books, television documentaries and charismatic personalities. The question has to be asked though, how much of their reputation is due to their being easily-caricatured and therefore media-friendly characters rather than what they have contributed to human knowledge?

Social media has done much to democratise the publication of material from a far wider range of authors than previously possible, but the current generation of scientific superstars who have arisen in the intervening eight years appear party to a feedback loop that places personality as the primary reason for their media success. As a result, are science heroes such as Neil deGrasse Tyson and Brian Cox merely adding the epithet 'cool' to STEM disciplines as they sit alongside the latest crop of media and sports stars? With their ability to fill arenas usually reserved for pop concerts or sports events, these scientists are seemingly known far and wide for who they are as much as for what they have achieved. It might seem counterintuitive to think that famous scientists and mathematicians could be damaging STEM, but I'd like to put forward five ways by which this could be occurring:

1: Hype and gossip

If fans of famous scientists spend their time reading, liking and commenting at similarly trivial levels, they may miss important material from other, less famous sources. A recent example that caught my eye was a tweet by British astrophysicist and presenter Brian Cox, containing a photograph of two swans he labelled ‘Donald' and ‘Boris'. I assume this was a reference to the current US president and British foreign secretary, but with over a thousand 'likes' by the time I saw it I wonder what other, more serious, STEM-related stories might have been missed in the rapid ebb and flow of social media.

As you would expect with popular culture fandom the science celebrities' material aimed at a general audience receives the lion's share of attention, leaving the vast majority of STEM popularisations under-recognised. Although social media has exacerbated this, the phenomenon does pre-date it. For example, Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time was first published in 1988, the same year as Timothy Ferris's Coming of Age in the Milky Way, a rather more detailed approach to similar material that was left overshadowed by its far more famous competitor. There is also the danger that celebrities with a non-science background might try to cash in on the current appeal of science and write poor-quality popularisations. If you consider this unlikely, you should bear in mind that there are already numerous examples of extremely dubious health, diet and nutrition books written by pop artists and movie stars. If scientists can be famous, perhaps the famous will play at being science writers.

Another result of this media hubbub is that in order to be heard, some scientists may be guilty of the very hype usually blamed on the journalists who publicise their discoveries. Whether to guarantee attention or self-promoting in order to gain further funding, an Australian research team recently came under fire for discussing a medical breakthrough as if a treatment was imminent, despite having so are only experimented on mice! This sort of hyperbole both damages the integrity of science in the public eye and can lead to such dangerous outcomes as the MMR scandal, resulting in large numbers of children not being immunised.

2: Hero worship

The worship of movie stars and pop music artists is nothing new and the adulation accorded them reminds me of the not dissimilar veneration shown to earlier generations of secular and religious leaders. The danger here then is for impressionable fans to accept the words of celebrity scientists as if they were gospel and so refrain from any form of critical analysis. When I attended an evening with astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson last month I was astonished to hear some fundamental misunderstandings of science from members of the public. It seemed as if Dr Tyson had gained a personality cult who hung on each utterance but frequently failed to understand the wider context or key issues regarding the practice of science. By transferring hero worship from one form of human activity to another, the very basis - and differentiation - that delineates the scientific enterprise may be undermined.

3: Amplifying errors

Let's face it, scientists are human and make mistakes. The problem is that if the majority of a celebrity scientist's fan base are prepared to lap up every statement, then the lack of critical analysis can generate further issues. There are some appalling gaffes in the television documentaries and popular books of such luminaries as Sir David Attenborough (as previously discussed) and even superstar Brian Cox is not immune: his 2014 book Human Universe described lunar temperatures dropping below -2000 degrees Celsius! Such basic errors imply that the material is ghost-written or edited by authors with little scientific knowledge and no time for fact checking. Of course this may embarrass the science celebrity in front of their potentially jealous colleagues, but more importantly can serve as ammunition for politicians, industrialists and pseudo-scientists in their battles to persuade the public of the validity of their own pet theories - post-truth will out, and all that nonsense.

4: Star attitude

With celebrity status comes the trappings of success, most usually defined as a luxury lifestyle. A recent online discussion here in New Zealand concerned the high cost of tickets for events featuring Neil deGrasse Tyson, Brian Greene, David Attenborough, Jane Goodall and later this year, Brian Cox. Those for Auckland-based events were more expensive than tickets to see Kiwi pop star Lorde and similar in price for rugby matches between the All Blacks and British Lions. By making the tickets this expensive there is little of chance of attracting new fans; it seems to be more a case of preaching to the converted.

Surely it doesn't have to be this way: the evolutionary biologist Beth Shapiro, author of How to Clone a Mammoth, gave an excellent free illustrated talk at Auckland Museum a year ago. It seems odd that the evening with Dr Tyson, for example, consisting of just himself, interviewer Michelle Dickinson (A.K.A. Nanogirl) and a large screen, cost approximately double that of the Walking with Dinosaurs Arena event at the same venue two years earlier, which utilised US$20 million worth of animatronic and puppet life-sized dinosaurs.

Dr Tyson claims that by having celebrity interviewees on his Star Talk series he can reach a wider audience, but clearly this approach is not feasible when his tour prices are so high. At least Dr Goodall's profits went into her conservation charity, but if you consider that Dr Tyson had an audience of probably over 8000 in Auckland alone, paying between NZ$95-$349 (except for the NZ$55 student tickets) you have to wonder where all this money goes: is he collecting ‘billions and billions' of fancy waistcoats? It doesn't look as if this trend will soon stop either, as Bill Nye (The Science Guy) has just announced that he will be touring Australia later this year and his tickets start at around NZ$77.

5: Skewing the statistics

The high profiles of sci-comm royalty and their usually cheery demeanour implies that all is well in the field of scientific research, with adequate funding for important projects. However, even a quick perusal of less well-known STEM professionals on social media prove that this is not the case. An example that came to my attention back in May was that of the University of Auckland microbiologist Dr Siouxsie Wiles, who had to resort to crowdfunding for her research into fungi-based antibiotics after five consecutive funding submissions were rejected. Meanwhile, Brian Cox's connection to the Large Hadron Collider gives the impression that even such blue-sky research as the LHC can be guaranteed enormous budgets.

As much as I'd like to thank these science superstars for promoting science, technology and mathematics, I can't quite shake the feeling that their cult status is too centred on them rather than the scientific enterprise as a whole.  Now more than ever science needs a sympathetic ear from the public, but this should be brought about by a massive programme to educate the public (they are the taxpayers, after all) as to the benefits of such costly schemes as designing nuclear fusion reactors and the research on climate change. Simply treating celebrity scientists in the same way as movie stars and pop idols won't help an area of humanity under siege from so many influential political and industrial leaders with their own private agendas. We simply mustn't allow such people to misuse the discipline that has raised us from apemen to spacemen.

From steampunk to Star Trek: the interwoven strands between science, technology and consumer design

With Raspberry Pi computers having sold over eleven million units by the end of last year, consumer interest in older technology appears to have become big business. Even such decidedly old-school devices as crystal radio kits are selling well, whilst replicas of vintage telescopes are proof that not everyone has a desire for the cutting-edge. I'm not sure why this is so, but since even instant Polaroid-type cameras are now available again - albeit with a cute, toy-like styling - perhaps manufacturers are just capitalising on a widespread desire to appear slightly out of the ordinary. Even so, such products are far closer to the mainstream than left field: instant-developing cameras for example now reach worldwide sales of over five million per year. That's hardly a niche market!

Polaroid cameras aside, could it be the desire for a less minimal aesthetic that is driving such purchases? Older technology, especially if it is pre-integrated circuit, has a decidedly quaint look to it, sometimes with textures - and smells - to match. As an aside, it's interesting that whilst on the one hand current miniaturisation has reduced energy consumption for many smaller pieces of technology from the Frankenstein laboratory appearance of valve-based computing and room-sized mainframes to the smart watch etal, the giant scale of cutting-edge technology projects require immense amounts of energy, with nuclear fusion reactors presumably having overtaken the previous perennial favourite example of space rockets when it comes to power usage.

The interface between sci-tech aesthetics and non-scientific design is a complicated one: it used to be the case that consumer or amateur appliances were scaled-down versions of professional devices, or could even be home-made, for example telescopes or crystal radios. Nowadays there is a massive difference between the equipment in high-tech laboratories and the average home; even consumer-level 3D printers won't be able to reproduce gravity wave detectors or CRISPR-Cas9 genome editing tools any time soon.

The current trend in favour - or at least acknowledgement - of sustainable development, is helping to nullify the pervasive Victorian notion that bigger, faster, noisier (and smellier) is equated with progress. It's therefore interesting to consider the interaction of scientific ideas and instruments, new technology and consumerism over the past century or so. To my mind, there appear to be five main phases since the late Victorian period:

1. Imperial steam
2. Streamlining and speed
3. The Atomic Age
4. Minimalism and information technology
5. Virtual light

1) Imperial steam

In the period from the late Nineteenth Century's first generation of professional scientists up to the First World War, there appears to have been an untrammelled optimism for all things technological. Brass, iron, wood and leather devices - frequently steam-powered - created an aesthetic that seemingly without effort has an aura of romance to modern eyes.

Although today's steampunk/alternative history movement is indebted to later authors, especially Michael Moorcock, as much as it is to Jules Verne and H.G. Wells, the latter pair are only the two most famous of a whole legion of late Victorian and Edwardian writers who extolled - and occasionally agonised over - the wonders of the machine age.

I must confess I much prefer steam engines to electric or diesel locomotives, despite the noise, smuts and burning of fossil fuels. Although the pistons and connecting rods of these locomotives might be the epitome of the design from this phase, it should be remembered that it was not unknown for Victorian engineers to add fluted columns and cornucopia reliefs to their cast iron and brass machinery, echoes of a pre-industrial past. An attempt was being made, however crude, to tie together the might of steam power to the Classical civilisations that failed to go beyond the aeolipile toy turbine and the Antikythera mechanism.

2) Streamlining and speed

From around 1910, the fine arts and then decorative arts developed new styles obsessed with mechanical movement, especially speed. The dynamic work of the Futurists led the way, depicting the increasing pace of life in an age when humans and machines were starting to interact ever more frequently. The development of heavier-than-air flight even led to a group of 'aeropainters' whose work stemmed from their experience of flying.

Although scientific devices still had some of the Rube Goldberg/Heath Robinson appearance of their Nineteenth Century forebears, both consumer goods and vehicles picked up the concept of streamlining to suggest a sophisticated, future-orientated design. Items such as radios and toasters utilised early plastics, stainless steel and chrome to imply a higher level of technology than their interiors actually contained. This is in contrast to land, sea and aerial craft, whereby the practical benefits of streamlining happily coincided with an attractive aesthetic, leading to design classics such as the Supermarine seaplanes (forerunners of the Spitfire) and the world speed record-holding A4 Pacific Class steam locomotives.

3) The Atomic Age

By the 1950s practically anything that could be streamlined was, whether buildings that looked like ocean liners or cars with rocket-like tailfins and dashboards fit for a Dan Dare spaceship. However, a new aesthetic was gaining popularity in the wake of the development of atomic weapons. It seems to have been an ironic move that somewhere between the optimism of an era of exciting new domestic gadgets and the potential for nuclear Armageddon, the Bohr (classical physics) model of the atom itself gained a key place in post-war design.

Combined with rockets and space the imagery could readily be termed 'space cadet', but it wasn't the only area of science to influence wider society. Biological research was undergoing a resurgence, which may explain why stylised x-ray forms, amoebas and bodily organs become ubiquitous on textiles, furnishings, and fashion. Lighting fixtures were a standout example of items utilising designs based on the molecular models used in research laboratories (which famously gave Crick and Watson the edge in winning the race to understand the structure of DNA).

Monumental architecture also sought to represent the world of molecules on a giant scale, culminating in the 102 metre-high Atomium built in Brussels for the 1958 World's Fair. It could be said that never before had science- and technological-inspired imagery been so pervasive in non-STEM arenas.

4) Minimalism and information technology

From the early 1970s the bright, optimistic designs of the previous quarter century were gradually replaced by the cool, monochromatic sophistication of minimalism. Less is more became the ethos, with miniaturisation increasing as solid-state electronics and then integrated circuits became available. A plethora of artificial materials, especially plastics, meant that forms and textures could be incredibly varied if refined.

Perhaps a combination of economic recession, mistrust of authority (including science and a military-led technocracy) and a burgeoning awareness of environmental issues led to the replacement of exuberant colour with muted, natural tones and basic if self-possessed geometries. Consumers could now buy microcomputers and video games consoles; what had previously only existed in high-tech labs or science fiction became commonplace in the household. Sci-fi media began a complex two-way interaction with cutting-edge science; it's amazing to consider that only two decades separated the iPad from its fictional Star Trek: The Next Generation predecessor, the PADD.

5) Virtual light

With ultra high-energy experiments such as nuclear fusion reactors and the ubiquity of digital devices and content, today's science-influenced designs aim to be simulacra of their professional big brothers. As stated earlier, although consumer technology is farther removed from mega-budget science apparatus than ever, the former's emphasis on virtual interfaces is part of a feedback loop between the two widely differing scales.

The blue and green glowing lights of everything from futuristic engines to computer holographic interfaces in many Hollywood blockbusters are representations of both the actual awesome power required by the likes of the Large Hadron Collider and as an analogy for the visually-unspectacular real-life lasers and quantum teleportation, the ultimate fusion (sorry, couldn't resist that one) being the use of the real National Ignition Facility target chamber as the engine core of the USS Enterprise in Star Trek: Into Darkness.

Clearly, this post-industrial/information age aesthetic is likely to be with us for some time to come, as consumer-level devices emulate the cool brilliance of professional STEM equipment; the outer casing is often simple yet elegant, aiming not to distract from the bright glowing pixels that take up so much of our time. Let's hope this seduction by the digital world can be moderated by a desire to keep the natural, material world working.

Navigating creation: A Cosmic Perspective with Neil deGrasse Tyson

I recently attended an interesting event at an Auckland venue usually reserved for pop music concerts. An audience in the thousands came to Neil deGrasse Tyson: A Cosmic Perspective, featuring the presenter of Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey and radio/tv show StarTalk. The 'Sexiest Astrophysicist Alive' presented his brand of science communication to an enormous congregation (forgive the use of the word) of science fans aged from as young as five years old. So was the evening a success? My fellow science buffs certainly seemed to have enjoyed it, so I decided it would be worthwhile to analyse the good doctor's method of large-scale sci-comm.

The evening was split into three sections, the first being the shortest, a primer as to our location in both physical and psychological space-time. After explaining the scale of the universe via a painless explanation of exponents, Dr Tyson used the homespun example of how stacking the 'billions' (which of course he declared to be Carl Sagan's favourite word) of Big Macs so far sold could be stacked many times around the Earth's circumference and even then extend onwards to the Moon and back. Although using such a familiar object in such unusual terrain is a powerful way of taking people outside their comfort territory, there was nothing new about this particular insight, since Dr Tyson has been using it since at least 2009; I assume it was a case of sticking to a tried-and-trusted method, especially when the rest of the evening was (presumably) unscripted.

Having already belittled our location in the universe, the remainder of the first segment appraised our species' smug sense of superiority, questioning whether extra-terrestrials would have any interest in us any more than we show to most of the biota here on Earth. This was a clear attempt to ask the audience to question the assumptions that science fiction, particularly of the Hollywood variety, has been popularising since the dawn of the Space Age. After all, would another civilisation consider us worthy of communicating with, considering how much of our broadcasting displays obvious acts of aggression? In this respect, Neil deGrasse Tyson differs markedly from Carl Sagan, who argued that curiosity would likely be a mutual connection with alien civilisations, despite their vastly superior technology. Perhaps this difference of attitude isn't surprising, considering Sagan's optimism has been negated by both general circumstance and the failure of SETI in the intervening decades.

Dr Tyson also had a few gibes at the worrying trend of over-reliance on high technology in place of basic cognitive skills, describing how after once working out some fairly elementary arithmetic he was asked which mobile app he had used to gain the result! This was to become a central theme of the evening, repeated several times in different guises: that rather than just learning scientific facts, non-scientists can benefit from practising critical thinking in non-STEM situations in everyday life.

Far from concentrating solely on astrophysical matters, Dr Tyson also followed up on topics he had raised in Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey regarding environmental issues here on Earth. He used Apollo 8's famous 'Earthrise' photograph (taken on Christmas Eve 1968) as an example of how NASA's lunar landing programme inspired a cosmic perspective, adding that organisation such as the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration and the Environmental Protection Agency were founded during the programme. His thesis was clear: what began with political and strategic causes had fundamental benefits across sectors unrelated to space exploration; or as he put it "We're thinking we're exploring the moon and we discovered the Earth for the first time."

The second and main part of the event was Tyson's discussion with New Zealand-based nanotechnologist and science educator Michelle Dickinson, A.K.A. Nanogirl. I can only assume that there aren't any New Zealand astronomers or astrophysicists as media-savvy as Dr Dickinson, or possibly it's a case of celebrity first and detailed knowledge second, with a scientifically-minded interviewer deemed to have an appropriate enough mindset even if not an expert in the same specialisation.

The discussion/interview was enlightening, especially for someone like myself who knows Neil deGrasse Tyson as a presenter but very little about him as a person. Dr Tyson reminisced how in 1989 he accidentally become a media expert solely on the basis of being an astrophysicist and without reference to him as an Afro-American, counter to the prevailing culture that only featured Afro-Americans to gain their point of view.

Dr Tyson revealed himself to be both a dreamer and a realist, the two facets achieving a focal point with his passion for a crewed mission to Mars. He has often spoken of this desire to increase NASA's (comparatively small) budget so as reinvigorate the United States via taking humans out from the humdrum comfort zone of low earth orbit. However, his understanding of how dangerous such a mission would be led him to state he would only go to Mars once the pioneering phase was over!

His zeal for his home country was obvious - particularly the missed opportunities and the grass roots rejection of scientific expertise prevalent in the United States - and it would be easy to see his passionate pleas for the world to embrace Apollo-scale STEM projects as naïve and out-of-touch. Yet there is something to be said for such epic schemes; if the USA is to rise out of its present lassitude, then the numerous if unpredictable long-term benefits of, for example, a Mars mission is a potential call-to-arms.

The final part of the evening was devoted to audience questions. As I was aware of most of the STEM and sci-comm components previously discussed this was for me perhaps the most illuminating section of the event. The first question was about quantum mechanics, and so not unnaturally Dr Tyson stated that he wasn't qualified to answer it. Wouldn't it be great if the scientific approach to expertise could be carried across to other areas where people claim expert knowledge that they don't have?

I discussed the negative effects that the cult of celebrity could have on the public attitude towards science back in 2009 so it was extremely interesting to hear questions from several millennials who had grown up with Star Talk and claimed Neil deGrasse Tyson as their idol. Despite having watched the programmes and presumably having read some popular science books, they fell into some common traps, from over-reliance on celebrities as arbiters of truth to assuming that most scientific theories rather than just the cutting edge would be overturned by new discoveries within their own lifetimes.

Dr Tyson went to some lengths to correct this latter notion, describing how Newton's law of universal gravitation for example has become a subset of Einstein's General Theory of Relativity. Again, this reiterated that science isn't just a body of facts but a series of approaches to understanding nature. The Q&A session also showed that authority figures can have a rather obvious dampening effect on people's initiative to attempt critical analysis for themselves. This suggests a no-win situation: either the public obediently believe everything experts tell them (which leads to such horrors as the MMR vaccine scandal) or they fail to believe anything from STEM professionals, leaving the way open for pseudoscience and other nonsense. Dr Tyson confirmed he wants to teach the public to think critically, reducing gullibility and thus exploitation by snake oil merchants. To this end he follows in the tradition of James 'The Amazing' Randi and Carl Sagan, which is no bad thing in itself.

In addition, by interviewing media celebrities on StarTalk Dr Tyson stated how he can reach a far wider audience than just dedicated science fans. For this alone Neil deGrasse Tyson is a worthy successor to the much-missed Sagan. Let's hope some of those happy fans will be inspired to not just dream, but actively promote the cosmic perspective our species sorely needs if we are to climb out of our current doldrums.

Genius: portraying Albert Einstein as a human being, not a Hollywood stereotype

I recently watched the National Geographic docudrama series Genius, presenting a warts-and-all look at the life and work of Albert Einstein. In these post-truth times in which even a modicum of intellectual thought is often regarded with disdain, it's interesting to see how a scientific icon is portrayed in a high-budget, high-profile series.

A few notable examples excepted, Dr Frankenstein figures still inform much of Hollywood's depiction of STEM practitioners. Inventors are frequently compartmentalised as either patriotic or megalomaniac, often with a love of military hardware; Jurassic Park's misguided and naive Dr John Hammond seemingly a rare exception. As for mathematicians, they are often depicted with more than a touch of insanity, such as in Pi or Fermat's Room.

So does Genius break the mould or follow the public perception of scientists as freaky, geeky, nerdy or plain evil? The script is a fairly sophisticated adaptation of real life events, although the science exposition suffers as a result. Despite some computer graphic sequences interwoven with the live action, the attempts to explore Einstein's thought experiments and theories are suggestive rather than comprehensive, the tip of the iceberg when it comes to his scientific legacy. Where the series succeeds is in describing the interaction of all four STEM disciplines: science, technology, engineering and mathematics; and the benefits when they overlap. The appalling attitudes prevalent in the academia of his younger years are also brought to vivid life, with such nonsense as not questioning tutors piled onto the usual misogyny and xenophobia.

Contrary to the popular conception of the lone genius - and counter to the series' title - the role of Einstein's friends such as Marcel Grossmann and Michele Besso as his sounding boards and mathematical assistants is given a high profile. In addition, the creative aspect of science is brought to the fore in sequences that show how Einstein gained inspiration towards his special and general theories of relativity.

The moral dimension of scientific research is given prominence, from Fritz Haber's development of poison gas to Leo Szilard's persuasion of Einstein to both encourage and later dissuade development of atomic weapons. As much as the scientific enterprise might appear to be separate from the rest of human concern, it is deeply interwoven with society; the term 'laboratory conditions' applies to certain processes, not to provide a wall to isolate science from everything else. Scientists in Genius are shown to have the same human foibles as everyone else, from Einstein's serial adultery (admittedly veering to Hollywood family drama at times, paternal guilt complex etal) to Philipp Lenard's dismissal of Einstein's theories due to his anti-Semitism rather than any scientific evidence. So much for scientific impartiality!

The last few episodes offer a poignant description of how even the greatest of scientific minds lose impetus, passing from creative originality as young rebels to conservative middle age stuck-in-the-muds, out of touch with the cutting edge. General readership books on physics often claim theoretical physicists do their best work before they are thirty, with a common example being that Einstein might as well have spent his last twenty years fishing. Although not as detailed as the portrayal of his early, formative years, Einstein's obsessive (but failed) quest to find fault with quantum mechanics is a good description of how even the finest minds can falter.

All in all, the first series of Genius is a very noble attempt to describe the inspiration and background that led to some revolutionary scientific theories. The irony is that by concentrating on Einstein as a human being it might help the wider public gain a better appreciation, if not comprehensive understanding, of the work of scientists and role of STEM in society. Surely that's no bad thing, especially if it makes Hollywood rethink the lazy stereotype of the crazy-haired scientist seeking world domination. Or even encourages people to listen to trained experts rather than the rants of politicians and religious nutbars. Surely that's not a difficult choice?

The power of pond scum: are microalgae biofuels a realistic proposition?

I've previously discussed some very humble organisms but they don't get much humbler than microalgae, photosynthetic organisms that generate about half our planet's atmospheric oxygen. Imagine then what potential there might be for their exploitation in a world of genetic manipulation and small-scale engineering? The total number of algal species is unknown, but estimates suggest some hundreds of thousands. To this end, private companies and government projects around the world have spent the past few decades - and a not inconsiderable amount of funding - to generate a replacement for fossil fuels based on these tiny plants.

For anyone with even a microgram's worth of common sense, developing eco-friendly substitutes for oil, coal and gas is a consummation to be devoutly wished for, but behind the hype surrounding microalgae-derived fuel there is a wealth of opposing opinions and potential some shady goings-on. Whilst other projects such as creating ethanol from food crops are continuing, the great hope - and hype -that surrounded algae-based solutions appears to be grinding to a halt.

Various companies were forecasting that 2012 would be the year that the technology achieved commercial viability, but this now appears to be rather over-eager. Therefore it's worth exploring what happens when hope, high-value commerce and cutting-edge technology meet. There are some big names involved in the research too: ExxonMobil, Shell and BP each pumped tens to hundreds of millions of dollars into microalgae fuel projects, only to either make substantial funding cuts or shut them down altogether since 2011.

Manufacturing giants such as General Electric and Boeing have been involved in research for new marine and aircraft fuels, whilst the US Navy undertook tests in 2012 whereby algae-derived fuel was included in a 50:50 blend with conventional fossil fuel for ships and naval aircraft. Even shipping companies have become interested, with one boffin-worthy idea being for large cruise ships to grow and process their own fuel on-board. Carriers including United Airlines, Qantas, KLM and Air New Zealand have invested in these kerosene-replacement technologies, with the first two of these airlines having trialled fuel blends including 40% algae derivative. So what has gone wrong?

The issue appears to be one of scale: after initial success with laboratory-sized testing, the expansion to commercial production has encountered a range of obstacles that will most likely delay widespread implementation for at least another quarter century.

The main problems are these:

1. The algae growing tanks need to be on millions of acres of flat land and there are arguments there just isn't enough such land in convenient locations.
2. The growing process requires lots of water, which means large transportation costs to get the water to the production sites. Although waste water is usable, some estimates suggest there is not enough of this - even in the USA - for optimal production.
3. Nitrogen and phosphorus are required as fertiliser, further reducing commercial viability. Some estimates suggest half the USA's annual phosphorus amount would need to be requisitioned for use in this one sector!
4. Contamination by protozoans and fungi can rapidly destroy a growing pond's entire culture.

In 2012 the US National Academy of Sciences appeared to have confirmed these unfortunate issues. Reporting on the Department of Energy goal to replace 5% of the nation's vehicle fossil fuel consumption with algae-derived biofuel, the Academy stated that this scale of production would make unfeasibly large impacts on water and nutrient usage, as well heavy commitments from other energy sources.

In a bid to maintain solvency, some independent research companies appear to have minimised such issues for as long as possible, finally diversifying when it appeared their funding was about to be curtailed or cut-off. As with nuclear fusion research, commercial production of microalgae fuels hold much promise, but those holding the purse strings aren't as patient as the researchers.

There may be a hint of a silver lining to all this, even if wide scale operations are postponed many decades. The microalgae genus Chlorella - subject of a Scottish biofuel study - is proving to be a practical source of dietary supplements, from vitamins and minerals to Omega-3. It only lacks vitamin B12, but is an astonishing 50-60% protein by weight. As well as human consumption, both livestock and aquaculture feed supplements can be derived from microalgae, although as usual there is a wealth of pseudoscientific nonsense in the marketing, such as the notion that it has an almost magical detox capability. Incidentally, Spirulina, the tablets and powder sold in health food outlets to make into green gloop smoothies, is not microalgae but a B12-rich cyanobacteria, colloquially - and confusingly - known as blue-green algae. Glad that's cleared that one up!

If anything, the research into microalgae-derived biofuels is a good example of how new technology and commercial enterprise uneasily co-exist; each needs the other, but gaining a workable compromise is perhaps just a tricky as the research itself. As for Government-funded projects towards a better future for all, I'll leave you to decide where the interests of our current leaders lie...

Owning the aliens: who should support endangered species thriving outside their home territories?

On holiday in Fiji last year I was surprised to learn that the most commonly-seen animals - with the exception of flying foxes - were recent introductions from other countries, primarily India. Examples include the red-vented bulbul, mynah bird, house gecko, and mongoose, all of which have brought their own problems to either native wildlife or Fijian agriculture.

From Hawaii to New Zealand, the deliberate or accidental introduction of non-native animals, plants and fungi has had profoundly negative effects on these previously isolated ecosystems. So what happens if an introduced organism, especially one that has a deleterious effect on wildlife, thrives in its transplanted habitat whilst becoming endangered across its original range? Two questions spring to mind: should the adopted homeland be able to exterminate the alien invader with impunity; and/or should the country of origin fund work in the invaded nation during a 'lifeboat' phase, until the home turf is suitable for restocking?

Almost inevitably, the countries with the highest number of at-risk species tend to be the poorer ones, Australia and the United States excepted. Reports over the past four years list a variety of nations with this sorry state of affairs, but amongst different conservation groups those within the top ten for endangered animal species include Indonesia, Malaysia, Ecuador, Mexico, India and Brazil. In some of these there is little political willpower - or indeed funding - to support anything deemed non-critical, with biodiversity seen as a nice-to-have.

For small nations such as Fiji there is little in the way of an environmental lobby. NatureFiji-MareqetiViti is an organisation that attempts to safeguard such threatened animals as the Fijian Crested Iguana whilst enhancing regional biosecurity, but with grants - including from the European Union - rarely exceeding a few tens or hundreds of thousands Fijian dollars they are woefully underfunded.

Which brings us to New Zealand, with its collection of endangered birds, lizards, freshwater fish and the Maui dolphin. In addition to Department of Conservation (Doc) budget cuts over the past decade - claimed by some organisations to total a 21% decline in real terms - the nation is home to several Australian animals that are nationally vulnerable in their native homeland across the Tasman Sea.

The green and golden bell frog (Litoria aurea) is a prime example of this, with a rapidly reducing Australian range having generated a status of 'globally vulnerable' yet being common enough in the northern part of New Zealand's North Island. I found this specimen at Auckland's Botanic Gardens earlier this year.

Therefore should the Australian Government fund a captive breeding programme - or simply a round-up - of individuals in New Zealand? After all, the latter has its own four native frog species, all rare and/or endangered, for its herpetologists to concentrate on.

There is a precedent for this. In 2003, three Australian trappers captured rare brush-tailed rock-wallabies on New Zealand's Kawau Island, where the marsupial's 'noxious' pest status meant
they were about to be targeted for eradication. The project included support from DoC but presumably - it's difficult to ascertain - the funding came from Australia.

Of course Australia may be able to afford to engage in restocking programmes abroad, but few other nations are in the same position. Although the largest conservation organisation in the world, the World Wide Fund for Nature (World Wildlife Fund in North America) has a comparatively large budget, even it cannot afford to support every repatriation or gene pool nursery scheme. Meanwhile, local charities such as NatureFiji-MareqetiViti tend to rely on volunteers rather than trained professionals and don't have the scope or capability for logistically-complex international undertakings.

With the USA becoming increasingly insular and Europe consumed with its own woes, the potential funding sources for these interim lifeboats is rapidly drying up. There are a few eco-angels, such as Norway's US$1 billion donation to Brazil - intended to curtail Amazonian rainforest destruction - but they are few and far between. It's one thing to support in-situ environmental issues, but another to raise funds to save selected endangered species thriving away from their native ecosystem.

It appears that there is no single solution to this, meaning that except for a few lucky 'poster' cases, many at-risk species may well fail to gain attention and be allowed to die out (or even be exterminated as foreign pests). The original home territory might no longer contain a suitable environment for them to thrive in whilst the foster nation lacks the impetus or funding to look after those pesky alien invaders. It seems that there are difficult times ahead!

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!

Weather with you: meteorology and the public perception of climate change

If there's one thing that appears to unite New Zealanders with the British it is the love of discussing the weather. This year has been no exception, with New Zealand's pre-summer forecasts - predicting average temperatures and rainfall - proving wildly inaccurate. La Niña has been blamed for what Wellingtonians have deemed a 'bummer summer', January having provided the capital with its fewest 'beach days' of any summer in the last thirty years. Sunshine hours, temperature, rainfall and wind speed data from the MetService support this as a nationwide trend; even New Zealand flora and fauna have been affected with late blossoming and reduced breeding respectively.

However, people tend to have short memories and often recall childhood weather as somehow superior to that of later life. Our rose-tinted spectacles make us remember long, hot summer school holidays and epic snowball fights in winter, but is this a case of remembering the hits and forgetting the misses (meteorologically speaking)? After all, there are few things more boring than a comment that the weather is the same as the previous ten comments and surely our memories of exciting outdoor ventures are more prominent than being forced to stay indoors due to inclement conditions?

Therefore could our fascination with weather but dubious understanding - or even denial - of climate change be due to us requiring personal or even emotional involvement in a meteorological event? Most of us have had the luck not to experience extreme weather (or 'weather bombs' as the media now term them), so unless you have been at the receiving end of hurricanes or flash floods the weather is simply another aspect of our lives, discussed in everyday terms and rarely examined in detail.

Since we feel affected by weather events that directly impact us (down to the level of 'it rained nearly every day on holiday but the locals said it had been dry for two months prior') we have a far greater emotional response to weather than we do to climate. The latter appears amorphous and almost mythical by comparison. Is this one of the reasons that climate change sceptics achieve such success when their arguments are so unsupported?

Now that we are bombarded with countless pieces of trivia, distracting us from serious analysis in favour of short snippets of multimedia edutainment, how can we understand climate change and its relationship to weather? The standard explanation is that weather is short term (covering hours, days or at most weeks) whilst climate compares annual or seasonal variations over far longer timeframes. Neil deGrasse Tyson in Cosmos:A Spacetime Odyssey made the great analogy that weather is like the zigzag path of a dog on a leash whereas its owner walks in a straight line from A to B. So far so good, but there's not even a widespread designation for the duration that counts as valid for assessing climate variability.

As such this leads us to statistics. Everyone thinks they understand the word 'average' but averages can represent the mean, median or mode. Since the period start and end date can be varied, as can the scaling on infographics (a logarithmic axis, for example), these methods allow a single set of statistics to be presented in a wide variety of ways.

The laws of probability rear their much-misinterpreted head too. The likelihood of variation may change wildly, depending on the length of the timeframe: compare a five-year block to that of a century and you can see that climate statistics is a tricky business; what is highly improbable in the former period may be inevitable over the latter. As long as you are allowed to choose the timeframe, you can skew the data to support a favoured hypothesis. So much then for objective data!

By comparison, if someone is the recipient of a worse than expected summer, as per New Zealand in 2017, then that personal experience may well be taken as more important than all the charts of long-term climate trends. It might just be the blink of an eye in geological terms, but being there takes precedence over far less emotive science and mathematics.

Perhaps then we subconsciously define weather as something that we feel we experience whilst climate is a more abstract notion, perhaps a series of weather events codified in some sort of order? How else can climate change deniers, when faced with photographs proving glacial or polar cap shrinkage, offer alternative explanations to global warming?

This is where politics comes into the mix. Whereas weather has little obvious involvement with politics, climate has become heavily politicised in the past thirty years, with party lines in some nations (mentioning no names) clearly divided. Although some of the naysayers have begun to admit global warming appears to be happening - or at least that the polar caps and glaciers are melting - they stick to such notions that (a) it will be too slow to affect humans - after all, there have been far greater swings in temperature in both directions in previous epochs - and (b) it has natural causes. The latter implies there is little we can do to mitigate it (solar output may be involved, not just Earth-related causes) and so let's stick our head in the sand and do some ostrich impressions.

As an aside, I've just finished reading a 1988 book called Prehistoric New Zealand. Its three authors are a palaeontologist (Graeme Stevens), an archaeologist (Beverley McCulloch)  and an environmental researcher (Matt McGlone) so the content covers a wide range of topics, including the nation's geology, climate, wildlife and human impact. Interestingly, the book states if anything the climate appears to be cooling and the Earth is probably heading for the next glaciation!

Unfortunately no data is supplied to support this, but Matt McGlone has since confirmed that there is a wealth of data supporting the opposite conclusion. In 2008 the conservative American Heartland Institute published a list of 500 scientists it claimed supported the notion that current climate change has solely natural causes. McGlone was one of many scientists who asked for his name to be removed from this list, stating both his work and opinions were not in agreement with this idea.

So are there any solutions or is it simply the case that we believe what we personally experience but have a hard time coming to terms with less direct, wider-scale events? Surely there are enough talented science communicators and teachers to convince the public of the basic facts, or are people so embedded in the now that even one unseasonal rain day can convince them - as it did some random man I met on the street - that climate change is a myth?