Friday, July 09, 2004

Orcas!

The Modulator reminds me of lovely Puget Sound, and includes a link to an Orca webcam. Back in my undergrad days at the UW, I did a little bit of whale spotting along the Sound...they're in rather short supply here on the prairie, so it's nice to be able to at least virtually peek out over the water again.

Humiliated, Angry, Ashamed, Brown.

This isn't my America. I'd like to see the craven apologists for the Bush administration, like James Lileks or Andrew Sullivan or any of their right-wing ilk, who wrap their nebulous fear of the world around them in the American flag and use it to justify trashing our freedoms, get the The Artist’s Statement rubbed in their faces. This is what we end up with, with their Patriot Act and their terror alerts and their sanctimonious justifications for petty abuses of authority:

I knew something he didn't know. I went on to clarify that I'd actually been to the Ballard Locks just two days earlier, where I'd met with the park ranger, specifically requesting permission to take a series of photos. We'd had a genuinely pleasant discussion about photography and the freedom of speech. In the end, he'd clarified that I had permission to take photos, just about any photos I'd like, on the city side of the Locks... which was the side I was currently on. Of course all of this information was immediately discounted as Special Agent McNamara's dissertation turned towards the logic behind investigating suspicious activity.

I continued to ask why the eight of them weren't "investigating" and harassing any of the curious, non-brown tourists that were now milling about. "There's a man, right there, with an easel and canvas, standing under the bridge, right now! Why aren't you asking him for his ID?"

"Have you read today's paper?" Special Agent McNamara asked gruffly.

Exasperated, I gave up, saying that I really didn't want to play those kinds of guessing games. No, I didn't know what he was talking about.

Special Agent McNamara went on to lecture me in front of his peers and the gathering crowd on the finer points of 9/11 and the social climate that's ensued. (Thinking back on it, I think he skipped over several significant points regarding the damage to American liberties.) At long last, he punctuated his keynote by referring to some "maniacs" slamming 747's into skyscrapers, and saying something about how people are concerned about suspicious activity in their country, and how they needed and deserved to feel safe,

I couldn't help myself. I interrupted again, stating that I knew about 9/11, 'cause it happened in my country, too!

I don't hate America. I hate these traitors to American ideals.

A wealthy man

We all know that the incumbent is disgustingly wealthy, right?

(via the Funny Farm)

Oh, jeez. Can we please be rid of this woman?

Yecke joins Minneapolis think tank.

Ousted Minnesota Education Commissioner Cheri Pierson Yecke has a new job. She'll still be sounding off on public school issues, but not as a public official this time.

Judging from her recent editorials, that just means her idiocy will be unrestrained by responsibility.

Yecke, who had been education commissioner for more than a year when she was booted out of office by the DFL-controlled Senate in May, has been hired by the Center of the American Experiment, a politically conservative think tank in Minneapolis, to serve as "distinguished senior fellow for education and social policy."

Has there ever been a more thorough condemnation of the vapidity and utter uselessness of a person's ideas than the words, "hired by a conservative think tank"? They seem to be sinecures for the stupid who have at least had the cunning to support the ideology of the obscenely rich.

(via Les Lane)

The Tyranny of Design

Henry Gee (you may have heard of him; author of In Search of Deep Time: Beyond the Fossil Record to a New History of Life and several other excellent books on geology and evolution) has a sharp article up on Nature, criticizing Intelligent Design creationism. He hits on several themes that I'm personally fond of.

One is this whole idea that we can see the hand of a designer in the natural world, exemplified in these molecular machines that the ID creationists love to show us as slick, geometrically perfect, computer-generated graphical wonders.

Cohen argues that the fallacy in the Intelligent-Design argument about the flagellar motor (or any other system), is that proponents present the motor we see as The Motor, the exemplar, the only one possible, and, what's more the best possible, surely optimized by a Designing Hand. But when Cohen searched the literature, he found that a wide variety of flagellar motors have been described, each arranged in its own way, each its own solution to effective rotary motion in the microworld. There is no such thing as The Motor, no Platonic perfection enforced on bacteria by Divine fiat. Instead we see ad hoc solutions that are not perfect, but idiosyncratic and eclectic – just what you would expect if evolution were working on its own, without a Designer.

Another is a complaint that we have to be careful about getting too caught up in model systems, like The Fly, The Mouse, and The Zebrafish—that biology is about diversity and variation.

The only way to gain a realistic understanding of how life works is to give students hands-on experience of the diversity that exists. I was lucky – at school I trawled the countryside for natural history specimens, rocks and fossils, while at college I had hands-on experience of the outsides (and insides) of all kinds of exotica. But the triple tyranny of risk assessment, cost and politically-correct squeamishness has now seen off such activities for all but a few.

I believe that unless biologists have dissected real animals or experienced natural diversity for themselves, they are not worthy of the name. It was this same exposure that sowed the seeds of evolution in the mind of the young Darwin, turning him away from the theoretical, typological views of German Naturphilosophie that resonate still in those who argue for the presence of a designing hand. The artificial environment of the lab rat is as rarefied as the thoughts of Plato and Aristotle, the philosophy from which this idea derives. It no coincidence that it is in these very environments that Intelligent Design finds its most willing converts.

Much worse are the students who've learned everything from a book or a computer model. I feel strongly about students getting hands-on experience with real biology, and wrote up my biology department's dissection policy. It's another interesting argument for laboratory experience for students, that an aversion to confronting the messy diversity of life is a foundation for the faulty, cartoonish typological thinking of creationism.

Tips for arguing with creationists

I don't encourage debates with creationists; it's a waste of time, gives them far more respect than they deserve, and leaves you feeling slimy for sharing a podium with the guy. A couple of years ago, though, I tussled with a creationist in a public forum, and I think there is a way to 'win' such a confrontation and still have some self-respect. This wasn't a full-blown debate: it was a presentation by a local creationist, Roger Melquist, in which he announced that he would be open to fielding questions afterwards. I showed up as an audience member, and my goal was simply to introduce at least a few facts into the event. Low expectations are good in this sort of thing. You aren't going to win converts, at best you're going to raise a few doubts and maybe make a few people think.

These are some revised strategy notes I scribbled up after my encounter with Melquist in Spring, 2001.

• Pack the audience. Creationists, and Melquist was no exception, usually lecture to church groups; there's no way a lone evolutionist can be a good guy in such a situation. No matter what, you're going to come across as an isolated sniper. Don't stand for it—spread the word to your peers, too. Match their flyers in local churches with similar announcements at your local university. In this case, our local biology club got wind of this talk, and they passed the word on to a philosophy of science class. There were a number of people in the audience who were capable of asking intelligent questions of the speaker, so it was more than an echo chamber for the creationists.
  Also, after I'd raised my hand a few times and asked pointed questions, Melquist started avoiding me. It was satisfying to see him pass over me to let another fellow a few rows back ask a question...and he was one of our smart young philosophy students.
• Prepare ahead of time. I'd seen some of the points this fellow was going to raise in a flyer that he distributed before hand, and he was clearly a young-earth creationist of the Walt Brown/Kent Hovind school (a sitting duck, in other words). Trust me, these guys are so predictable...a quick browse through the web sites of creationists and various online debates allowed me to put together a list of things he was likely to say, and he hit every one of 'em. A Behe- or Johnson-style speaker is a much harder target, but even there, you can practically find word-for-word outlines and refutations of what they are going to say ahead of time.
  You don't have to feel like you've got to slam him on every mistake; there will be lots, so pick and choose.
• Don't get bogged down in detail. Nobody at these things wants to hear a long lecture on evolutionary biology. Make your point in a few sentences or two, and move on. Especially since you're a member of the audience, you don't have the privilege of meandering on for 5 minutes. What helps here is a little preparation, too.
  For instance, I knew he was going to raise the tired old canard that there are no transitional fossils—they always do. I prepared a few pictures on transparencies ahead of time, and when he made his predictable claim, I was able to raise my hand and say, "what about this?" and show him a picture of Ambulocetus. When he said there was nothing to connect that to modern whales, I could just hand him a picture of Basilosaurus. When he got flustered and said that these were all just peculiar and isolated creatures, I gave him a third picture with a dozen fossils in order. I couldn't give a lecture on whale evolution, but I could say just a few words and show a few pictures and make the point that he wasn't telling everyone the whole story.
• Try to make points that anyone in the audience can understand. Even creationists can understand some simple logic, and you don't have to sell them short. One of Melquist's 'proofs' of the age of the earth was a truly bizarre calculation -- he said that every once in a while in the news you hear that a "leap second" is being added to bring the atomic clock standards into alignment with reality. By his calculation (which was way off anyway), the length of the day would have only been one hour long a mere 13,000 years ago. All I said was, "I can do you one better. We add a leap day to the year every four years. Therefore the year is getting longer by one day every four years, and 1500 years ago the year would have been only one day long." And then I mentioned that adding a leap day or second doesn't mean that the year or day is getting longer by that much, it just means that there is a discrepancy between the standards and the actual length. Everyone saw the flaw in his logic, and even those who were sympathetic to him were somewhat dubious after that.

The general consensus afterwards was that the evolutionists 'won', at least as determined by comments from other people there and the write-ups in the local newspaper. Melquist wasn't ground down into the dirt, there was no scoring, nobody went home feeling like a disillusioned idiot, but we'd managed to raise enough questions in everyone's minds that they went away thinking that our evangelical creationist didn't quite have a solid grasp on what he was talking about, and that maybe there was more to this evolution stuff than their minister claimed. The local newspaper reporter's story basically said she'd never thought much about the issue before and had thought of herself as a creationist, but after seeing the presentation, hearing the questions, and seeing how the speaker responded, she was leaning towards giving evolution a lot more credit. I think that's all we should aim for when we're looking for a 'win'.

Mantis shrimp biomechanics

I was browsing through this month's issue of Natural History, and there was a nifty article on stomatopods, or mantis shrimp. Mantis shrimp are predatory crustaceans that have a potent weapon: a modified muscular forelimb that can deliver a high-speed, forceful blow. The article mentions that the limb has an acceleration of 10,400 G and can reach a speed of 50 mph—and keep in mind that this is underwater. Mantis shrimp are nick-named 'split-thumb' because of what they can do to you if you make the mistake of trying to pick one up.

I'd share more details, but I don't need to: the article cites a web page maintained by the investigators, on the Evolutionary Biomechanics of Stomatopods. The page has some high-speed video recordings of the stomatopod strike, and a detailed analysis of the biomechanical mechanism behind it, complete with step-by-step animations.

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Patek SN, Korff WL, Caldwell RL (2004) Deadly strike mechanism of a mantis shrimp. Nature 428:819.

Summers A (2004) Knockout punch. Natural History 113(6):22-23.

Thursday, July 08, 2004

Shallow, stupid, and shortsighted...

...and he's not a Republican. Matt Yglesias just shot himself in the foot.

Did the president really gut the Endangered Species Act yesterday while no one was paying attention? So I've heard, at any rate. If so, good riddance. You'll all yell at me, I suppose, but really: Who cares? Species die, shit happens, get over it. Clean air, clean water, and lower carbon emissions I'll get behind that stuff impacts, you know, people.

I wish people would realize that America is not the magic happy land of no consequences, where stuff just appears in the shopping malls and the Brazilian rain forest and Antarctica and the Caspian Sea don't matter because they are a long, long way away. You don't get clean air if you ignore plant diversity, you don't get clean water if you pretend snails and fish are expendable, and the surest way to impact people is to use the whole planet as a sewer.

Must-read stuff on the politicization of science

Chris Mooney has the goods. This administration has just blown demolished its credibility on so many fronts—all because they use ideology to dictate policy, in contradiction to what works. We have to evict these ghastly people in November.

Here's a small sample.

Gottfried went on to note that unhappiness and alarm among scientists has continued to grow since then, and that the UCS statement now has more than 4,000 scientist signers, including 48 Nobel Laureates and 127 National Academy of Sciences members. He added that even since the latest UCS report (available here) was prepared, there has been yet another case study of interference with science: The decision at HHS that U.S. scientists must go through a political vetting process before advising international bodies like the World Health Organization.

Science fiction author hits the big time...

...and gets published in Nature! Greg Bear has a short article in this week's issue, praising The Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame. The first half is more about how helpful he was in consulting for the people setting it up, but here is the last half of the review, that talks about the museum itself.

The Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame, a marvel of passion, technology and design, opened its doors last month. It represents a proud and dynamic reversal of years of cultural neglect of the story of science fiction — of its history, aesthetic philosophy and symbiotic relationship with science.

The exhibits are organized into five thematic galleries: Homeworld, Them!, Fantastic Voyages, Brave New Worlds and the Science Fiction Hall of Fame. Each gallery reflects a tributary that feeds into the main river of science fiction: these are, respectively, history, aliens and robots, getting from here to there in unusual ways, the changes that will occur in society, and the literary and artistic personalities that created these visions.

Much of the collection is provided by Allen himself, but many display items have been loaned by studios, film-makers, writers and fans. Among my favourites are Poul Anderson's idea notebook, the original manuscript of E. E. Smith's The Skylark of Space (the first major novel of interstellar adventure), and many pieces of original art by Chesley Bonestell, including his classic covers from Collier's magazine and the lovely Saturn As Seen From Titan. Film buffs will meet the original E.T., on loan from Steven Spielberg and Universal Pictures, and the Alien Queen from James Cameron's Alien — all terrifying six metres of her.

Among the centrepiece exhibits are Captain Kirk's command chair from the original Star Trek, a line-up of famous film robots, as well as interactive wall displays showing cities of the future and a wide variety of speculative spacecraft. The Hall of Fame, a curved wall of polycarbonate bricks engraved with glowing portraits, enshrines many of the finest names in science fiction.

One of the most pointed demonstrations of science fiction's impact on technology is the choice of Donna Shirley as the museum's director. Shirley was inspired by Robert Heinlein, Bradbury and Clarke to venture into a career in aerospace engineering, and led the team that built the Mars Sojourner microrover, which landed on Mars in 1997. She has loaned a half-scale copy of the rover and a chunk of martian meteorite to the museum.

Science fiction is a product of the poetic, dreaming mind of the sciences. Its considerable influence in books, films and television is ample proof of the need for a well-funded and disciplined study of the field, open to the general public. The Science Fiction Museum and Hall of Fame is an exquisite beginning.

It sounds like fun. I'm going to have to find an excuse to visit Seattle (shouldn't be hard, since I've got lots of family out there).

I do find it wonderful that Nature thought this was a newsworthy event. I suspect that a very significant proportion of scientists have an intense addiction to science fiction in their past (or in their present!) I grew up on a steady diet of the stuff. During my formative years, we lived in various houses that were all in downtown Kent, Washington, within a few blocks of the public library, and the library was more of a constant in my life than my home address. I devoured every science fiction novel I could find there, at the rate of about one a day. My parents didn't have to worry about where I was if I didn't show up for dinner—they'd just send one of my siblings over to the library to tell me to get home.

Tastes do change over the years, though. I don't read quite as much fiction anymore, and when I do, I'm much pickier about the quality. It's terrible to say, but on re-reading some of those classic SF authors I was crazy about as a kid, I find them to be horribly written. Asimov, Clarke, Heinlein, etc. all still have something compelling about the stories, but as writing...they haven't aged well. Sturgeon's Law held and holds.

I still read science fiction and fantasy every chance I get, and when I think of the authors whose new books I know I will be looking for and will snatch up the instant they come up on the market, they're all SF&F: Banks, Powers, Gibson, Sterling, Mieville, Pratchett, and probably a dozen others. All stuff that gets dismissed as 'genre fiction', but also the stuff that is excited about what we can do, the potential for expanding the realm of human experience to things that have never been done before, for good or ill.

And, well, Pratchett makes me laugh and see things we have now in a different light.

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Bear G (2004) Science in culture. Nature 430:147.

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