BBC: Death... Not Quite Permanent?

I've been pondering life and death again (you know, as you do). We humans tend to think of the two as definite, opposing states of being. The vast majority of the time, we have no problem identifying someone as "alive" or "dead." But, as science fiction has predicted, we've arrived at an age when these concepts are no longer quite binary -- when it's possible to restore to life someone who's been, albeit briefly, declared dead. See this article from last year:

http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20140704-i-bring-the-dead-back-to-life

Cryonics and cryogenics has been a well-trodden trope in popular fiction for decades, from the works of Robert Heinlein and Arthur C. Clarke (of the "Golden Age of Science Fiction") to Captain America's decades of being frozen in a block of ice. Science is nowhere near such capabilities, of course, and it's important for the general public to understand what is and is not possible, to be able to distinguish between fact and fiction (and fiction that might well become fact in the future). Most of the scientists cited in the above BBC article, for example, are careful to qualify their work. But the mere possibility -- the mere notion that we might be capable of blurring the boundary between life and death -- calls into question some of humanity's most deep-seated beliefs.

One of the most memorable moments in genomics research (which could be considered the other end of the debate) came from Dr. Craig Venter, the geneticist and entrepreneur best known for his work in mapping the human genome and in artificially synthesizing life. When he was asked how he felt about "playing God," Venter famously replied, "I don't play."

Clever quip aside, the creation of life and the reversal of death are traditionally the provinces of myth. Much of human fascination with divinity and the supernatural stems from our desire to understand -- and in some small way, influence -- these opaque, immutable bookends to our time on earth. We, like all other living creatures, are by nature afraid of death, and seek to stave it off as long as we can. If given the option to return from the other side, I'd venture that most people would do so without hesitation. And who wouldn't want to bring back a newly-deceased loved one, if they could?

What, then, might it mean to live, if we could choose not to die? Issues of reproduction and overpopulation aside (though those, too, would become important challenges), would near-immortality change the nature of humanity? How and why would one decide to die? Tolkien's elves, incidentally, would be a close approximation of that dilemma.

I'm reminded of something a wise man once said, about that final journey:

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

~Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Jewliebots: Teaching Girls to Code, and Subverting Gender Norms, via Jewelry

There's been growing interest, in certain quarters, in addressing the dearth of women in technology. Since one of the important roots of the issue lies in the lack of girls pursuing STEM fields as students, improving STEM education and outreach in the early years is critical. To that end, two female entrepreneurs have developed an educational toy, Jewliebots, that taps into traditionally feminine interests, such as fashion accessories and overt peer bonding, in order to pique preteen girls' interest in computer science.

http://www.dailydot.com/technology/jewliebots-friendship-bracelets/

http://www.bustle.com/articles/52546-jewliebots-friendship-bracelets-teach-girls-to-code-would-make-christmas-shopping-much-easier

Much like GoldieBlox, a comparable product engaging girls in engineering-related play (most well-known for the company's successful advertisement during the broadcast of a major sporting event), Jewliebots incorporates coding components into toys that are otherwise quite feminine (pink!) in appearance and function. It integrates engineering concepts into otherwise normal-looking toys, making this type of learning a natural element of play for young girls. I find this encouraging (and practical) on the one hand, but also problematic, on the other.

On face, the rationale for this seems obvious: bridge the gap between boys' toys that cultivate interest in engineering and girls' toys that don't, by creating toys that look like girls' toys, but encourage the same sorts of skills that the boys' toys do. However, this approach carries an unfortunate side-effect of catering to and reinforcing gender norms (i.e. pink toys for girls, blue toys for boys). It all-too-easily leads to the segregation of male and female constructive play, the idea that girls' toys ought to be distinguished by clear visual markers and are somehow inferior to boys' toys. (You'd be hard-pressed to get a boy to pick up a pink toy, for fear of schoolyard ridicule, whereas it's much easier for a girl to be a tomboy and play with masculine-looking toys; the latter is sometimes seen as an upgrade in social status, whereas the former is almost universally perceived as emasculating.) This reinforces the problematic social norm of masculinity as superior to femininity, establishing early in children's lives a secondary class of "female engineers" separate from the extant pool of predominantly male engineers. By creating engineering-related toys that cater specifically to girls, Jewliebots engenders in young and impressionable minds the idea that girls who code are somehow "other" and different from boys who code. This is the sort of thinking that very likely leads to gender discrimination and pay discrepancies in the engineering field.

It's important to note, however, the power of incremental change. There is still great social pressure (from peers and from authority figures) for girls to conform to a certain outmoded understanding of femininity. In the same way that girls are told not to dirty their dresses climbing on the jungle gym and catching insects in the park, girls often subconsciously internalize the idea that engineering-related play is "unladylike," or worse, "not for you." As girls are conditioned to be more vulnerable to social pressures, the perception of doing something wrong or unacceptable discourages them from pursuing science and engineering. If, by subversively making engineering-related toys conform to certain acknowledged stereotypes about childhood femininity, we can make it more socially acceptable for girls to play with said toys, it's a step in the right direction. At least, it gets them thinking about possibilities they may never have entertained otherwise.

So, if you're doing your last-minute holiday shopping, and there's a young girl on your list, consider buying her an engineering-related toy, like Jewliebots or Goldieblox. (And of course, be mindful and supportive about teaching gender roles and social norms the other 364 days of the year.) You may very well change her life.

Half the Earth for Wildlife

Here's a fascinating thought experiment: what if we set aside half the planet for wildlife?

It sounds like a pipe dream, too radical to consider seriously; humans, after all, have spread into every comfortable corner of the earth, and our population will only continue to rise. But the eminent biologist and conservationist E. O. Wilson believes that it's the best way to preserve biodiversity on this planet, and that it can be done:

http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/can-world-really-set-aside-half-planet-wildlife-180952379/

This would require, unsurprisingly, drastically reshaping the way we (as a species) consider the use of land and resources. Humanity has a fascination with the idea that we are the undisputed and rightful masters of the planet, that everything on this Earth is ours for the taking, consequences be damned. It's an incredibly shortsighted view, of course. From the first agricultural societies that learned to let certain fields lie fallow, to the English monarchs who decided to replant ship-worthy trees so that their heirs could build a navy to conquer half the world, to Theodore Roosevelt and his national parks, people have always recognized the value of safeguarding natural resources for future use and enjoyment.

E. O. Wilson's idea is really just taking the concept of a national park to a new level, albeit with judicious application of eminent domain and large-scale zoning laws. It wouldn't be the first time a government relocated groups of people in order to facilitate a greater national good, and this would be a much better cause than some of the previous incidences could claim. (I'm tempted to make some joke about flyover country, here.)

Even though the concept seems, in human terms, to be just a very large national park, its effect on our ecosystems is exponentially greater than that of our extant national parks. One mustn't underestimate the positive effects that uninterrupted migratory patterns would have on bolstering animal populations, especially those that are more sensitive to seasonal changes (and therefore more likely to be endangered in the first place). This scheme would revert, to the extent possible, a swath of land to its "original" state, before humanity molded it to suit our civilizations -- the state of nature, optimized for a balanced ecosphere. For all that we have done to alter the environment, that it would be possible to rectify the greater part of the damage we've caused in these parts, is itself no small feat.

We have reached a juncture after which the biodiversity of the planet will become increasingly more difficult to retain and salvage. Though Wilson's proposal is drastic, it is still, without a great stretch of the imagination, within our grasp. Some things are worth the cost -- surely the Earth is among them.

The People's Climate March, a Recap

Over the weekend, I went to the People's Climate March. I went alone, one of more than 300,000 people who attended the New York City event (similar marches were staged in cities around the world), and was warmly welcomed by perfect strangers, from climate scientists to concerned parents pushing baby strollers. There was universally an acknowledgement of solidarity, of common and overarching cause. There was a determination that the United Nations should hear us, on the weekend of the Climate Summit.

The March spanned more than fifty blocks on Manhattan's West Side, from 86th Street down to 34th Street. I joined about halfway through, having rushed across the river from the Brooklyn Book Festival, which was unfortunately on the same day. I tried to document what I could; my batteries gave out partway through...

I took this photo from just outside the barricade; it gives a good sense of the density of marchers along the route.

Marchers flocked to New York from colleges and universities throughout the Northeast, bringing handmade signs, slick printed banners, and matching t-shirts. (You know it's a real campus group when it has special t-shirts!)

There were also members of a diverse array of disproportionately-impacted communities, from indigenous populations to farmers to anyone who happened to live in a low-lying coastal region, included most Hurricane Sandy victims in the tri-state area (an unsurprisingly well-represented group).

Activists of all ages carried signs and slogans, and looked pretty happy to be here. It wasn't just young, idealistic college students!

These marchers, though, look like young, idealistic college students... The "fill-in-the-blank" signs were handed out to marchers at the beginning of the day. There was a wonderful diversity of answers, from the indisputably factual to the unflinchingly personal.

There were some interesting pieces of green technology along for the ride. I was especially taken with this tiny solar-powered vehicle, which reminded me of a cross between a VW Beetle and a golf cart. (It was moving at slow enough speeds that children could clamber on.)

I fell in with a group of scientists, some of whom had come all the way from the U.K. to participate in the march. They had an incredible prop: an enormous rolling blackboard covered in real data. The evidence was clear, from more than ten feet away!

And of course, the scientists came prepared with clever exoplanet jokes.

This photo was taken towards the end of the march, as the afternoon was just giving way to early evening. As the lighting is lacking, the signs read "Tuvalu," "Save the Arctic," and "Stop the tar sands at the source." This was indeed the delegation representing the tiny Pacific archipelago of Tuvalu, which is in danger of being submerged by rising sea levels. Some of them probably came a very long way to be heard in front of the United Nations.

As for the media round-up, my favorite pieces about the March:

• The New Yorker ran an excellent article about the event, as well as a interview with the environmentalist and scholar Bill McKibben, one of the primary organizers of the March.
• The New York Times also covered the March, including audiovisual material that gives a great sense of the numbers and diversity of the marchers. A follow-up article provided deeper analysis of the economics behind climate change mitigation.

The U.N. appears to have gotten the message -- but it remains to be seen in the months and years ahead how seriously its member states take their new vows on climate action. It will require intricate policy and sustained initiative to see them through the vagaries of politics, of course. But no country can claim that its citizens do not care or will not be affected by climate change.

io9: Parenting for Science

I found this story, wherein a professor experiments on his children, hilarious and a bit inspiring (such dedication to the scientific method!), which probably means that I shouldn't reproduce anytime soon...

http://io9.com/questionable-parenting-science-the-tickler-1558053188

Unsurprisingly, this happened two or three generations ago, when it was more socially acceptable for a psychologist to perform experiments on his young and unsuspecting kids in the name of science. (Then again, my father likes to recount the behavioral "experiments" he performed on us when my sister and I were small -- though they were neither as rigorous nor as scientific as Clarence Leuba's.) I'm surprised, though, that his wife was willing to go along with it! Usually, the more responsible parent has veto power over harebrained ideas involving the shared children.

This makes me wonder how many other scientists' children have had rather unorthodox upbringings that have contributed to scientific research. (I read recently in a biography of Alfred Loomis that quite a few members of his extended family, and even occasional house guests, were drafted as test subjects in his experiments.) I hope that in most of those cases, parental instinct would have tempered any potential for lasting damage...

The Economist: The Dream of Interstellar Starships, or, the Hows and Whys of Technology

I'm in California, hanging out with a lot of techie folks whom I met at university. We've talked about things like Amazon drones and Elon Musk's proposed hyperloop... and naturally I was reminded of this article, which I saw in The Economist a month or two ago:

http://www.economist.com/news/science-and-technology/21588349-if-starships-are-ever-built-it-will-be-far-future-does-not-deter

Scientists have been contemplating interstellar travel for as long as science fiction authors have been writing about it (indeed, these two groups have a significant overlap). The above article catalogues some of the problems facing any space-adventuring hopefuls, most notably that of propulsion. It also asks the important question of why.

I was just discussing with a college friend the differences between the humanities and the sciences. It's engineers like them -- like the people I know who work at tech companies up and down the Bay -- who give us the means to achieve what could scarcely be imagined a few generations ago. The sciences answer the question of how. But for what purpose? To what end? Those are the questions the humanities hope to answer -- but we have too few people asking, and too few caring to ask.

There's always hype about the next great "disruptor" in the marketplace, the technology that no one ever imagines he needs, but which he soon finds indispensable (see Henry Ford and Steve Jobs, for example). But I can't help wondering: what kind of society do these visionaries hope to create with their revolutionary ideas? (There's Google's "Don't be evil," but that's hardly descriptive. It's not proscriptions, but rather prescriptions that build a new future.) Beyond the often nebulous concept of improving quality of life, how do inventors imagine their products shaping our society? (Interstellar travel, a la Star Trek, would irrevocably change the way we live and our understanding of our place in the universe.) As the article points out, "Because we can" is not a sufficient reason--it doesn't tell us why.

Some food for thought. I'll likely revisit this topic after my trip.

Write Your Own Academic Sentence (or, the Problem with Academic Prose)

Academic writing is notorious for its opaque (sometimes unreadable) prose. This contributes greatly to the common perception that academia is irrelevant to the concerns of the general population, who don't care to puzzle through the stylistic challenges of academic papers to get at the often interesting ideas within. It's a tragedy, because our society would be so much richer if everyone -- not just specialists, not just the people with advanced degrees -- were engaged in the culture of ideas and had access to the latest developments across a variety of disciplines.

I recently found this amusing little program that parodies academic writing:

http://writing-program.uchicago.edu/toys/randomsentence/write-sentence.htm

It's surprising how many of these randomly-generated declarative statements seem to make some semblance of sense. (Of course, the ones that don't are hilariously bad.) What's rather tragic is that a broad swath of society actually believes that all academic writing reads something like this -- and for the most part, they're not wrong.

Obviously, part of the opacity of any academic discipline is a product of the specialized vocabulary required to discuss said discipline -- they need words to describe concepts that might not even exist elsewhere. As the sum total of human knowledge has increased over the centuries, each discipline is now much more specialized than in the past. Newton, for example, could give public lectures about cutting-edge physics and expect to draw sizable crowds that included a diverse swath of of upper and middle class London, the vast majority without formal science training. Today, the equivalent would be a Brian Greene or Neil deGrasse Tyson lecture -- which seems to appeal to a more niche audience.

We're seeing something of a reversal of this trend with the online democratization of education (e.g. Coursera, Floating University, Crash Course, SciShow, &c.). So far, that hasn't gained much traction in the realm of written research (though who knows what academic journals will look like in a decade or two?). Given that the audience of said journals consists primarily of other academics, it's unlikely that they'll change drastically. Public outreach, on the other hand, has never looked more promising.

Carl Sagan Day

Happy Carl Sagan Day!

Carl Sagan was one of the first and most well-known American populist scientists. That is, he championed the worthy cause of bringing science (especially astronomy) to the non-scientist public. (For comparison's sake, he was a contemporary of Freeman Dyson, another such luminary, and the forefather of scientists like Brian Greene and Neil deGrasse Tyson.) Sagan is perhaps best known for his novel Contact, subsequently made into an eponymous film, and for the television series Cosmos. It's fitting that he should have his own day of celebration (he would have been 79 today), wherein people contemplate the great beyond.

In addition to popularizing science, Sagan was also one of the great advocates for SETI in his day, as well as a proponent of nuclear disarmament. He was, as were many great scientists, a profound humanist. He was the originator of the saying "We are all stardust," one of my all-time favorites. (If I were ever to get a quotation tattooed somewhere on my body, this would be a top contender. It helps that it's short.) In another life, I might have gone into astrophysics -- largely because I grew up reading books by people like him.

Addendum: the Library of Congress recently acquired Carl Sagan's papers, which include his reading lists. This is facinating stuff!

BuzzFeed: Schrodinger and Heisenberg Walk into a Bar...

Because we need more quantum mechanics jokes in the world, even if they're really corny:

http://www.buzzfeed.com/billypeltzer/20-jokes-only-a-physics-nerd-will-appreciate-ecuv

That is all. (I am such a magpie, I know!)

io9: Why Eugenics is a Bad Idea (aside from all the obvious moral reasons)

I recently read Paolo Bacigalupi's short story collection Pump Six and Other Stories, which is deliciously creepy and dystopian. That anthology, and this io9 article (which I read at around the same time), got me thinking about human genetic engineering on a macroscopic scale:
http://io9.com/5925024/why-eugenics-will-always-fail

Our notions of eugenics can be roughly sorted into two categories: ways to optimize our species (for some agreed-upon and likely artificial optimal characteristics), and ways to eliminate genetic weaknesses (an extremely aggressive, sentient form of Darwinism). The former option represents selecting for a hypothetical upper bound, and the latter would be selecting against a lower bound.

When we talk about eugenics, most of us imagine the first option. The cultural connotation of the term "eugenics" includes the Holocaust, the book Brave New World, and the film "Gattaca" -- all of which involve human rights violations. In selecting for a certain ideal, a society makes mincemeat of the rights of those who fall below the arbitrary cut-off. Because eugenics usually comes with gross restrictions of free will -- and in many cases, murder -- we tend to see it as a purely moral evil. This usually brings about international intervention (the timeliness and effectiveness of said interventions being a different matter entirely), or at least the common recognition that such atrocities ought to be prevented.

The above io9 article lays out a few intuitive arguments against eugenics from a practical perspective, contending that -- morality aside -- it simply wouldn't be effective. They boil down to: imprecision, biodiversity, and the limitations of human foresight. (In essence, the short-term microscopic, the middle-term macroscopic, and the long-term in both. The article explains in further detail.) We don't know enough (and likely will never know enough) to get away with attempting to fashion our species in the image of some ideal -- not to mention that it would be impossible to get all seven billion of us to agree on said ideal in the first place. These are all, however, problems that arise when selecting for an upper bound, a hypothetical ideal specimen of humanity.

A (very) soft version of a scenario where we select against a lower bound is already in place, given amniocentesis and women's right to abort. Many women choose to abort after they receive an abnormal genetic diagnosis -- when the fetus has a genetic or congenital defect that would severely diminish the hypothetical child's lifespan or quality of life. The logic is that never existing -- which, for the record, is distinct from ceasing to exist after a period of existence -- is preferable to a life of pain and suffering with little ability to self-actualize. Self-actualization is incredibly important -- it's what makes us human and distinguishes us from other animals. This form of selection, which can be considered a mild and diffuse form of eugenics, increases the average human being's ability to self-actualize, thereby increasing (in a thought experiment where sentience is quantifiable on a scale) our species's average sentience through conscious choice by prospective parents -- a rough extension of natural sexual selection, in the way that most technologies exacerbate existing dilemmas and play upon existing quirks of human nature, rather than creating new ones where they didn't exist before. (To be clear, I recognize that I just exploded a can of worms -- that humans aren't generally more or less sentient than other humans, and that legally, ethically, metaphysically, &c. we all ought to be considered equally sentient, except in cases of limited ability to consent (i.e. children, mentally disabled persons), in which case laws are made to protect said people.)

The danger, then, is where the upper and lower bound options meet in the middle. (I'm resisting the obvious temptation to make some horrible joke about quantum mechanics and relativity here.) It's significant, therefore, that the former option is mandated by an external force and doesn't allow parents to meaningfully consent; the latter option is voluntarily initiated by the potential parents. The lower bound scenario never turns into the problematic upper bound scenario precisely because of this element of free will. The moment it moves from a bottom-up to a top-down approach -- when it veers too close to selection for an ideal, thereby impinging upon the rights of the sentient but non-ideal population -- it becomes the morally degenerate form of eugenics of genocide and dystopian science fiction. There lies the bright-line we should be aware of.

And that's all for now. I'd love to hear your thoughts!

The Economist: On Pollution, China is Better and Worse Than We Think

I'm reading Jared Diamond's excellent book Collapse (you know it's important when it has its own Wikipedia page!), which devotes a whole section to the real sociopolitical dangers modern China faces as a result of environmental fragility and degradation. I rather serendipitously happened upon this article in The Economist, which discusses developments therein (both good and bad) since Collapse was published in 2005:

http://www.economist.com/news/briefing/21583245-china-worlds-worst-polluter-largest-investor-green-energy-its-rise-will-have

I subsequently ended up thinking a lot about the subject, so I thought I'd muse about it in prose. (Sometimes -- very occasionally -- I miss writing essays for college history classes...) This post is rather long, so I've put it below the cut:

BBC: A One-Way Trip to Mars

I've been reading Asimov lately, and consequently thinking about space colonization. One of the most often-cited barriers to human colonization of extraterrestrial worlds is the presumed lack of volunteers willing to make a one-way journey to another planet; it seems too conclusive, a course of action only the deeply desperate or truly dissatisfied would be willing to undertake. (Fortunately for human rights, but unfortunately for space colonization, penal colonies -- the interplanetary version of 19th century Australia -- don't seem to be a viable option.)

It seems, however, that not everyone shares said pessimism about human civilization beyond Earth:
http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20120206-space-tourists-one-way-mars-trip

There are a number of examples of migration and settlement in human history that may be considered analogues of space colonization. The Thirteen Colonies, for example, were populated by settlers who never expected to return to their lands of origin, and who were largely unable to communicate with family and friends from their precolonial lives (a product of distance, the unreliability of mail delivery, and illiteracy). And yet, there was no shortage of people willing to make the trip -- there were convicts and bondsmen, to be sure, but also religious minorities, merchants, speculators, explorers, and all manner of people who believed that they could build a better life in the uncharted wilderness than in the known, civilized world. I don't believe that this strain of optimism and curiosity will have disappeared between then and whenever we are capable of sending colonists beyond our orbit.

Would I go? I must admit: probably not. I have too many Earthly attachments -- people, places, moments, experiences (especially people). I would have been reluctant, I think, even in the later eras of immigration by ship; see the song "Kilkelly." It's no coincidence that so many of the early colonists in North America were particularly fervent Protestants who believed that one's mortal existence was ultimately inconsequential (predestination, and the complete rejection of Catholic belief in deed as well as faith), or people with few ties to their original communities, for varying definitions of community. But in an age of faster interplanetary travel, I'd sure love to visit!

Also, I think the idea of sending a few intrepid journalists to document the development of the Martian colony is brilliant. It's not often that we get to study the development of a nascent civilization, and it would prove instructive to have such a chronicle on hand once the colonization of space really begins.

The article mentions a hypothetical poll; I would be very interested to see the results of that particular study. I'm especially curious as to the demographics of an all-volunteer Martian colony, and whether they would reflect a population roughly comparable to the New World colonists.

io9: Galileo's Ship Was One of the Oldest Relativity Though Experiments

It has always irked me, a little, when people claim that Einstein "invented" relativity. The man was a genius, to be sure, and contributed greatly to our understanding of general and special relativity in modern physics -- but the idea of relativity existed well before him. The term itself is quite broad, encompassing everything from temporal and spatial relativity to more nebulous perspective- and human interaction-based concepts; it hardly seems possible that despite hundreds of years of innovation in math and physics, relativity only arose within the past century. Certainly, there have been a number of similar (if more rudimentary) observations throughout history, such as Zeno's paradox(es). One of the oldest examples dates from the Renaissance:

http://io9.com/galileos-ship-was-one-of-the-oldest-relativity-thought-486468038

It sounds like a very low-tech version of Einstein's lasers-on-a-train thought experiment, doesn't it?

This brings to mind a blog post from about a year ago... Straying away from the sciences for a moment, relativity as an abstract concept -- even models of relative perspective uncannily like the sort of thought experiments Einstein proposed -- seems to have existed in the literary and cultural milieu for quite a while. It's reasonable to conjecture that there was some cross-pollination. (Eliot, for example, even drops an allusion or two to relativity in "The Waste Land.") The idea of relativity is marvelously intuitive (albeit in a slightly mind-bendy way) and quite useful in describing life alongside other sentient beings.

Today

is the 55th anniversary of the death of Rosalind Franklin, an unsung heroine of biophysics (Watson and Crick got all the credit, including the Nobel Prize that she should have been jointly awarded). Women like Franklin -- like Marie Curie, like Ada Lovelace -- were among my childhood idols.

I am reminded of a blog post I wrote a few months ago, wherein I discuss feminism and dead people. Perhaps mine is not the generation in which we achieve true gender equality, but it is inevitable -- I have faith that the inexorable progress of our species is headed in such a direction -- and I hope to see it within my lifetime. Someday, female scientists, artists, leaders, and thinkers will be extraordinary for their accomplishments alone; someday, no one will even think to mention that a Nobel Prize winner was female -- that she won will be accomplishment enough.

And here are some pictures of very colorful (very pretty) corn in honor of Franklin's work on the structure of DNA:
http://milkwood.net/2012/05/12/glass-gem-corn-and-other-heirloom-jewels-of-the-corn-cabinet/

Cover-a-Week #7: "Galileo" by the Indigo Girls

In honor of Galileo's 449th birthday:


http://youtu.be/ggVZ90hprAM

NYTimes: Richard III, Lost and Found

In recent news -- making both archaeological and regular news headlines around the world -- the bones of Richard III were discovered under a parking lot in Leicester:

http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/05/world/europe/richard-the-third-bones.html?hp

I'm inclined to be more sympathetic towards Richard III than literature portrays him (Shakespeare's play was an instrument of the Tudor smear campaign against the Plantagenets). He probably suffered from "younger sibling syndrome," as did many "spare heirs" of monarchs in the Middle Ages -- see Scar vs. Mufasa in The Lion King (and play "spot the Shakespeare references"). This was also probably exacerbated by his uninspiring physical appearance -- see Tyrion Lannister in George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire series. (Especially in those days, physical birth defects were seen as portents of ill fortune.) Richard came by the throne in a slightly roundabout way that involved some unsavory tactics; certainly, he can't have been completely innocent in the Princes in the Tower episode. But he was by and large a competent administrator who contributed significantly to the nascent English legal system and, notably, lifted most public and private censorship of written work -- not a move to be taken lightly, especially given the political turmoil surrounding his ascension and reign. He was ruthless, to be sure, sometimes excessively so, but his were much more violent times. (Nasty, brutish, and short would be about right.) Richard III was not, among his peers, particularly remarkable in his ruthlessness -- which the Tudors, Shakespeare, and partisan historians conveniently forget.

Anyhow. I imagine it must have been a fascinating experience for the modern-day descendants of Richard III, a few of whom contributed some DNA to the project.

io9: Race Relations in the Space Age

An adorable, moving video about breaking all sorts of glass ceilings in pursuit of one's dreams (also, Star Trek pioneering integration FTW):

http://io9.com/5981089/a-sweet-animated-tale-of-challenger-astronaut-ronald-mcnairs-early-experience-standing-up-to-racism

Ronald McNair. I didn't know who he was until I saw this, but I'm glad I found it. I'll admit to tearing up a little at the end. (Challenger, why?) He's one of the many unsung heroes of science -- much as the Catholic Church has a body of saints, I propose that science establish its own roster of martyrs for the cause. McNair would be up there with Galileo and Marie Curie.

BBC: This is Why We Should Let Young People Sleep In

This article reminds me of a diary entry I from my high school days:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/magazine/7932950.stm

I think this warrants some explanation. See, I used to keep a diary in high school. Looking back at it, I realize I may not have been very good at actual diary-keeping. There are entries written entirely in Tengwar -- which, while a good system for maintaining secrecy, is also somewhat inhibitive to actually reading said entries -- and long digressions about Napoleon and epidemiology and black holes (different entries), and not actually that much about how my day went. So, while I can't read these diaries and get a particularly good sense of what daily life was like in high school, I now remember that for a brief period in 2005, I thought that the Spanish flu pandemic of 1918 was the most fascinating event of the millenium. Or something.

Anyhow, in said diary, there's an entry from 2006 wherein I complain about how early I had to wake up for school (6:30 am). In that entry, I came up with what I thought was a pretty logical theory explaining why teenagers didn't like to wake up early. I postulated that it was an evolutionary advantage for adolescents in hunter-gatherer societies to be awake late in the night in order to keep a continuous lookout for the tribe; this would have been necessary because people were still living in fairly un-defended dwellings, where they could easily be attacked by carnivorous predators. Naturally, it seems like the elderly go to bed early and wake up extremely early (just look at all the old people doing Tai Chi in the park!), and real adults keep what society considers normal hours. Therefore, it would be up to the adolescents to bridge the gap between say, midnight, when the adults go to bed, 5:00 AM, when the elderly wake up. Nighttime is when the big nocturnal predators hunt -- and also when mammalian prey, which included homo sapiens, was most vulnerable, because of their reliance on sight over the other four senses. Adolescents tend to have the best night vision and the fastest reflexes, making them the ideal group to keep watch in the darkest hours.

Of course, this evolutionary advantage is no longer so advantageous, as teenagers now have to operate on a largely adult schedule. I think it causes a lot more teenage stress than adults generally believe. (I think this applies to people in their twenties, too -- like me.) This program sounds like a good way of addressing it, and it's a pity I didn't have something like this when I was in high school: http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/england/tyne/7932108.stm

Now I'm a "real" adult, so I guess I have to stick to the nine-to-five, even though it's not natural to my biorhythms. I guess it's better than eight-to-three.

Bovine Compasses?

I was reading this what-if on xkcd yesterday, which, in the context of photosynthetic cows, noted that cattle have a natural tendency to align themselves north-south. Apparently there's even been research on the subject: http://www.pnas.org/content/early/2008/08/22/0803650105.

Short of photosynthetic cows -- or even cows equipped with solar panels, as xkcd suggests -- I wonder what sorts of applications this bovine property might have. A cow would make a particularly large, unwieldy, and recalcitrant compass (and presumably you'd never know if it was actually facing north-south, or whether there was simply something tasty/interesting in the general direction of its head). A herd of cows, though -- that might be promising. Perhaps a cowboy, if stranded during a solar eclipse (or just a really cloudy day), could use his herd of cows to determine the direction in which they ought to be heading?

Discover: How Would Time Travel Actually Work (or, something for all the Whovians)?

A good, cogent article on the physics of time travel:
http://discovermagazine.com/2010/mar/02-the-real-rules-for-time-travelers/

I first encountered this explanation of time travel in Harry Potter and the Prizoner of Azkaban, where Harry and Hermione use a Time-Turner to save Sirus and Buckbeak. (I trust that I didn't spoil the book for anyone -- and if I did, you're way behind the times!) The detail of the Time Turner chapter that I found most memorable was the thud of the executioner's axe: Harry and Hermione heard it fall in real time and assumed that Buckbeak had been beheaded; however, when they went back in time to rescue the hippogryff, they realized that the sound they'd thought was Buckbeak's decapitation was actually the executioner swinging the axe into a hunk of wood in frustration upon discovering that Buckbeak had escaped. Harry and Hermione, therefore, did not change the timeline using the Time Turner; rather, events incorporated all nonlinear parts and intersections of the timeline.

The concept of free will, as the above article notes, becomes problematic if this framework of time is true. Nature, it would seem, is more like a Greek tragedy than we Americans would like to believe. We are uncomfortable with the idea of external limits on our free will, and time is too nebulous to most of us to think its laws as insurmountable as, say, those of Newtonian physics. If we were told that our free will is limited by gravity (no matter how much we might wish to levitate through the air, we cannot), we do not find it unjust. Told that Oedipus had no choice but to kill his father and marry his mother, despite all of his attempts to escape his fate, we find his situation grossly unfair. The above description of time travel suggests that our universe operates more like Oedipus's than we'd imagined.

I believe in free will. I do. But I'd love to try time travelling -- it sounds fascinating.