Brian Clegg's Blog, page 133
September 27, 2012
Who's for a little Nookie?

So the market is ripe for lots of different ebook readers, hence presumably the launch of US bookstore giant Barnes & Noble's Nook tablets alongside its e-readers in the UK. Only I'm not totally convinced. iPad and Kindle dominate their respective markets. There are some up and coming Android tablets. But a lot of also ran makes like Kobo and even the mighty Sony have struggled to really get out there. And I suspect it may also be true of Barnes & Noble.
The thing is, B&N is a big name in the US, but it's an unknown here. If they had branded it Waterstones, it may just have got a bit more credibility, but as it stands I'm not sure why anyone will buy them, unless they are seriously cheap for what they offer. They will be selling through Sainsbury's, which should get them some sales, and Blackwell's. But I am just not sure they will catch on in a big way.
There are probably interesting parallels to draw with the MP3 player market. Apple was not first with the iPod, but they have dominated the market ever since they first got properly established. Sony could have got there first (remember how dominant the Walkman was on the cassette side), but messed up by making the PC software to go with their MP3s very clumsy and obtrusive (their ebook products have had the same problem). Now on the MP3 front you have Apple, then a couple of also rans like Sandisk, then the tat. I think the same is likely to be the case with ebook readers. The top slots are already filled. Barnes & Noble will fighting to make sure they're an also ran.
Published on September 27, 2012 00:39
September 26, 2012
Midsomer Madness

In this particular case, the science in question was astronomy. We started with a dramatic scene. A total eclipse of the Sun. Many folk from kids to serious astronomers are gathering to a witness it. I was a little unhappy with the advice an expert gave a youngster (roughly 'don't look at it through binoculars or a telescope...' so far so good... 'unless you use one of these filters.' Not so good.) But we'll overlook that. What, though, about the eclipse itself? These don't happen randomly, after all.
From the car registrations this clearly wasn't the last eclipse visible in the UK in 1999. Anyway, while the location of Midsomer isn't specified (it's filmed in Buckinghamshire and Berkshire), it clearly isn't Cornwall. And the next... is not until 2090. Hmm.
This falls into the 'irritating but possibly allowable to keep the story going' class. But the next one was a doozie. In a conversation with Inspector Barnaby, an astronomy professor is musing over the meteorite that killed someone during the eclipse. (Don't ask.) I nearly literally rolled on the floor laughing. So wonderful was it that I have gone back on ITVPlayer to get an exact transcript of his words.
There's megatons of metal floating around out there. Carbon compressed to its deepest density, sucked into black holes. Which is probably where our own planet will end its days.What?!? There are not words to describe the awe I feel at the magnificent incorrectness of that little speech. What black holes? If the carbon was sucked into them, how did it get out again? No, it's not 'probably where our own planet will end its days.' Lovely.
One other example that raised a snigger. One of the amateur astronomers who had supposedly discovered an extra-solar planet (yes, I know) is asked for an alibi during another murder. It was nighttime and, like most astronomers he was observing. Good alibi. But then he has to go and give some detail that spoils it. I haven't bothered finding the exact words but it was approximately 'I was watching the transit of Venus.' Marvellous. Leaving aside the fact that this is a much rarer event than a solar eclipse, there's one big problem. Like eclipses, transits of Venus are one of the few times when astronomers get to work during the day. It's Venus crossing the face of the Sun. It happens in daytime. So not exactly a great nighttime alibi. For one brief moment I thought this might be intentional, a subtle hint that this was the killer. But no. It was just a script error.
On one level, moaning about this kind of thing is nerdy silliness. It's a story, get over it. But on another level it is perfectly legitimate. Making a two hour drama is an expensive business. They could have afforded a few hundred pounds to have someone who knew their science look over the script. (I'm available, TV people!) The eclipse itself we'd let through, because it was fairly central to the plot, and so it's fine to bend the facts. But the dialogue that went horribly wrong could easily have been made accurate without any impact on the storyline. Surely they could have managed that?
Image from Wikipedia
Published on September 26, 2012 00:38
September 25, 2012
The P word
There has been a lot of fuss lately over what the Chief Whip Andrew Mitchell did or didn't say to a policeman at Downing Street. Leaving aside that I have some sympathy with Mitchell, as he wasn't talking to a policeman as defender of liberty, but rather a policeman as jobsworth refusing to do his job and open a gate, I find the reaction to one word fascinating.
Mitchell is accused by the policeman (though he denies it) of calling him a pleb. This is being treated by parts of the media as if he had used the N word - but I would say there is a fundamental difference. I absolutely understand why those who take offence from the use of the N word get upset, because it links them to an unpleasant historical context. This isn't the case for pleb.
'Pleb' is short for 'plebeian' from the Roman distinction between a plebeius - one of the common people - and a patricius, a patrician, a member of the nobility or (post classically) a high ranking official. Practically everyone was a pleb. So basically what Mitchell (if he said it) was accusing the policeman of being was one of what our US cousins tend to call 'We the people'. Not a waste of space, toffy-nosed idiot, but the salt of the earth. And this is offensive because?...
Of course, you might argue that it's not offensive in itself, but rather in the way it is typically used by a certain class of people. They (we could class them as Bullingdon Club types) consider themselves a cut above the rest, and consider the plebs to be oiks, the ones who didn't go to Eton or have some minor title in the family. But to take offence is to suggest that these idiots are right. And they aren't. Given the choice between Bullingdon Club types ('hearties' we used to call them at university, and it wasn't intended as a compliment either) and being a pleb, I know which I'd choose. My grandparents were mill workers from Rochdale. What else could I be? Plebeian and proud of it.
Up the plebs!
Mitchell is accused by the policeman (though he denies it) of calling him a pleb. This is being treated by parts of the media as if he had used the N word - but I would say there is a fundamental difference. I absolutely understand why those who take offence from the use of the N word get upset, because it links them to an unpleasant historical context. This isn't the case for pleb.
'Pleb' is short for 'plebeian' from the Roman distinction between a plebeius - one of the common people - and a patricius, a patrician, a member of the nobility or (post classically) a high ranking official. Practically everyone was a pleb. So basically what Mitchell (if he said it) was accusing the policeman of being was one of what our US cousins tend to call 'We the people'. Not a waste of space, toffy-nosed idiot, but the salt of the earth. And this is offensive because?...
Of course, you might argue that it's not offensive in itself, but rather in the way it is typically used by a certain class of people. They (we could class them as Bullingdon Club types) consider themselves a cut above the rest, and consider the plebs to be oiks, the ones who didn't go to Eton or have some minor title in the family. But to take offence is to suggest that these idiots are right. And they aren't. Given the choice between Bullingdon Club types ('hearties' we used to call them at university, and it wasn't intended as a compliment either) and being a pleb, I know which I'd choose. My grandparents were mill workers from Rochdale. What else could I be? Plebeian and proud of it.
Up the plebs!
Published on September 25, 2012 01:34
September 24, 2012
Where's my Streetview?

it snappy (the new Maps app)There has been a lot of excitement in the Apple world in recent days with the launch of iPhone 5 and suchlike goodies. To accompany it, there has been an outbreak of new software - specifically iOs 6, the new version of the iPhone/iPad operating system.
As usual this has quite a few nice goodies, but also one hugely controversial feature. Apple has replaced the excellent Google Maps with their own software. The Apple Maps app has some very swish 'fly over' features, which are toys that will be used twice and discarded. But it isn't as good as the old master on some of the basics.
There has been much whingeing about the new app, as the occasional place gets mislaid etc, but I suspect that will be fixed fairly quickly. They are relying on TomTom for much of the UK mapping, and on the whole TomTom know their stuff. And they have added turn by turn directions, which is potentially useful.
However, there is one particularly painful aspect of the change. I always found Google Streetview really useful. You can take a look at your destination and be clear exactly how the end of your journey looks. But there is no Streetview in Apple Maps. No worries - you can still go into Google Maps in the web browser... only Streetview uses Flash, which isn't supported on iPhone or iPad. So still no opportunity to have a quick preview of your destination.

Phew.
Published on September 24, 2012 00:32
September 21, 2012
What is it about BMWs?

However, even as a non-fan, I have to have admit that BMWs are superbly engineered - which is why I am so baffled about their attitude to security. Recently in the news there has been a lot of fuss about BMWs with those automatic key fob thingies being easy to break into. Despite being aware of this, apparently BMW don't feel it's their responsibility to sort things out. Which isn't good.
Of itself, this is a one-off concern. But the fact is it's not the first time BMWs have been identified as being easy to break into. A good number of years ago, my car was broken into in a car park in Windsor. (You may think Windsor is a nice place, but I've only had cars broken into twice, both times in Windsor.) The thieves smashed a window to get a few cassette tapes and the (rubbish) car radio. My car wasn't a BMW - but I learned something interesting that night.
A policewoman came out to examine the scene. In conversation she pointed out that, in a way, it was a pity that my car wasn't a BMW as they were so easy to break into. Apparently, she said, there was a fault in the automatic locking mechanism, and if you bashed a BMW just there (she indicated on a nearby example) the locks popped open. For her benefit I won't say whether or not she actually demonstrated it, but it was painfully easy. Of course that was back then - this doesn't work on today's cars. But even so, as Lady Bracknell might have said, to mess up one locking mechanism is unfortunate; to mess up two is careless.
Image from Wikipedia
Published on September 21, 2012 02:44
September 19, 2012
Tweetness and light
The media has a very mixed attitude to Twitter. Sometimes it is given totally over the top accolades for enabling something like the Arab Spring to take place (there is no doubt it made a contribution, but equally no doubt that things would have gone ahead much the same without it). At other times it is seen as a lowest common denominator means of spreading gossip and tittle tattle.
Why wouldn't you tweet it?I personally think it's a great way for getting and giving instant reactions. It can be genuinely interesting to see live response to a TV show, for instance, as tweets come flying in. And although I personally am not particularly interested in what people had for breakfast, say, it is very valuable as a way of highlighting something interesting or amusing. So, for instance, when I spot a van with an entertaining spelling error on its artwork, or when I recently came across a slow worm on my walk to the Post Office, Twitter was a natural way to make a quick comment.
This ease can lead to problems. There was, of course, the court case for the poor guy who remarked that he was going to bomb Robin Hood airport (what a name), which should never have happened. Twitter is sounding off, worldwide light conversation, not a place to generate threats and litigation. There was also the poor Welsh councillor who was hauled up for a disciplinary hearing for tweeting I didn’t know the Scientologists had a church on Tottenham Court Road. Just hurried past in case the stupid rubs off - ludicrous over-reaction for a personal response you may or may not agree with (I do agree) but that he should have the freedom to make without harassment.
I also find that Twitter is a good, painless way for a reader to make a quick comment to an author. I would never think of emailing Stephen Fry, say, but I don't mind blasting something off to him on Twitter. He probably never sees them - but that doesn't really matter. And when I get a response from the author, as I did from a positive remark having just read one of S. J. Parris's novels featuring Giordano Bruno, it feels really good.
Canadian bookstore purchases
Photo courtesy of Claire McCartneyAs an author myself I also receive quite a few tweets about my books - and that warm glow works both ways. I received one the other day saying Picked up your book on gravity in Chapters book store in Ottowa, Canada and 1 hour later I was still reading it! Nice - that really made my day. It's not just the nice comments, but the thought of a book I wrote making a connection in a different country - there's something heartwarming about it!
I couldn't help asking if, after reading it for an hour, the tweeter had actually bought the book - and was even more delighted to hear that not only did she do so, but she went back next day for another of my titles. And chocolate covered beaver droppings. The way you do. (Why don't our bookshops sell beaver droppings?) I've even got a photo to prove it.
So don't knock Twitter. I get really irritated with people who say 'Oh, no, I've never twitted, or whatever you call it,' wrinkling their nose as if it's something tasteless. Personally, I'm all in favour.

This ease can lead to problems. There was, of course, the court case for the poor guy who remarked that he was going to bomb Robin Hood airport (what a name), which should never have happened. Twitter is sounding off, worldwide light conversation, not a place to generate threats and litigation. There was also the poor Welsh councillor who was hauled up for a disciplinary hearing for tweeting I didn’t know the Scientologists had a church on Tottenham Court Road. Just hurried past in case the stupid rubs off - ludicrous over-reaction for a personal response you may or may not agree with (I do agree) but that he should have the freedom to make without harassment.
I also find that Twitter is a good, painless way for a reader to make a quick comment to an author. I would never think of emailing Stephen Fry, say, but I don't mind blasting something off to him on Twitter. He probably never sees them - but that doesn't really matter. And when I get a response from the author, as I did from a positive remark having just read one of S. J. Parris's novels featuring Giordano Bruno, it feels really good.

Photo courtesy of Claire McCartneyAs an author myself I also receive quite a few tweets about my books - and that warm glow works both ways. I received one the other day saying Picked up your book on gravity in Chapters book store in Ottowa, Canada and 1 hour later I was still reading it! Nice - that really made my day. It's not just the nice comments, but the thought of a book I wrote making a connection in a different country - there's something heartwarming about it!
I couldn't help asking if, after reading it for an hour, the tweeter had actually bought the book - and was even more delighted to hear that not only did she do so, but she went back next day for another of my titles. And chocolate covered beaver droppings. The way you do. (Why don't our bookshops sell beaver droppings?) I've even got a photo to prove it.
So don't knock Twitter. I get really irritated with people who say 'Oh, no, I've never twitted, or whatever you call it,' wrinkling their nose as if it's something tasteless. Personally, I'm all in favour.
Published on September 19, 2012 01:02
September 17, 2012
Nature's Nanotech #7 - Behold the Peacock
The last in the Nature's Nanotech series
There is something stunning about the colours of a peacock feather. It’s not just a simple matter of the sort of coloured pigments an artist mixes up on a palette. The colours in the feathers almost glow in their iridescence, changing subtly with angle to catch the eye. To produce this effect, the feather contains a natural nanotechnology that has the potential to transform optics when this remarkable approach is adapted for use in human technology.
Both the iridescence of that peacock’s tail and the swirly, glittering appearance of the semi-precious stone opal are caused by forms of photonic lattices. These are physical structures at the nano level that act on light in a way that is reminiscent of electronics, like the semiconductors that act to switch and control electrons, giving unparalleled manipulation of photons.
The colours of the peacock feather bear no resemblance to those of a pigment. In blue paint, for example, the pigment is a material that tends to absorb most of the spectrum of white light but re-emits primarily blue, so we see anything painted with the pigment as being blue. In the peacock feathers it’s the internal structure of the feather (or to be precise the tiny ‘barbules’ on the feather) that produce the hue.
The colouration is primarily due to internal reflections off the repeated structure of the barbule, similar to the way the lattice arrangement of a crystal can produce enhanced reflection. What happens is that photons reflected from a deeper layer are in phase with those from an outer layer, reinforcing the particular colours of light (or energies of photons) that fit best with the lattice spacing. This is a photonic lattice. These effects depend on the angle at which the light reflects, giving the typical ‘shimmer’ of iridescence.
The practical applications of artificially created photonic crystals can do much more than produce a pretty effect and striking colours. Because a photonic lattice acts on light as semiconductors do on electrons, they are essential components if we are ever to build optical computers.
These theoretical machines would use photons to represent bits, rather than the electrical impulses we currently employ in a conventional computer. This could vastly increase the computing power. Because photons don’t interact with each other, many more can be crammed into a tiny space. What’s more, one of the biggest restrictions in current computer architecture is the complex spaghetti of links joining together different parts of the structure. With photons, those links can flow through each other in a basket of light – unlike wires and circuits, photons can pass through each other without interacting, allowing more complex and faster architectures. Equally, optical switching – and in the end, a computer is just a huge array of switches – could be much faster than the electronic equivalent.
There are significant technical problems to be overcome, but the potential is great. Photonic crystals are already used in special paint and ink systems which change colour depending on the angle at which the paint is viewed, reflection reducing coatings on lenses and high transmission photonic fibre optics.
Another example of nanotechnology having a quantum effect on light is plasmonics. Something remarkable happens, for example, if light is shone on a gold foil peppered with millions of nanoholes. It seems reasonable that only a tiny fraction of the light hitting the foil would pass through these negligible punctures, but in fact in a process known as ‘extraordinary optical transmission’ they act like funnels, channelling all the light that hits the foil through the sub-microscopic apertures. This bizarre phenomenon results from the interaction between the light and plasmons, waves in the two dimensional ocean of electrons in the metal.
The potential applications of plasmonics are remarkable. Not only the more obvious optical ones – near perfect lenses and supplementing the photonic lattices in superfast computers that use light rather than electrons to function – but also in the medical sphere to support diagnostics, by detecting particular molecules, and for drug delivery. Naomi Halas of Rice University in Texas envisions implanting tiny cylinders containing billions of plasmonic spheres, each carrying a minuscule dose of insulin. Infra red light, shone from outside the body, could trigger an exact release of the required dose. ‘Basically, people could wear a pancreas on their arm,’ said Halas.
Over the last seven weeks since the first post, we have explored a wide range of the ways that nanotechnology, given a push in the right direction by nature, is starting to be important in our lives. At the moment we are most likely to come across relatively simple applications like the nanoparticles in sun block or technology making fabrics and electronics water repellent.
As our abilities to construct nanostructures improve we will see increased use of the likes of carbon nanotubes and the nano-optics described in this piece. And eventually? It is entirely possible that we will see Richard Feynman’s 1950s speculation about nanomachines come to fruition, though they are likely to be more like the ‘wet’ machines of nature than a traditional mechanical device.
When nanotechnology appears in the news it is often in a negative light. We might hear that Prince Charles is worrying about the threat of grey goo, or the Soil Association won’t allow artificial nanoparticles in organic products. But the reality is very different. Nanotechnology is both fascinating and immensely valuable in its applications. I, for one, can’t wait to see what comes next.
This series has been sponsored by P2i, a British company that specializes in producing nanoscale water repellent coatings. P2i was founded in 2004 to bring technologies developed at the UK Government’s Defence Science & Technology Laboratory to the commercial market. Applications range from the Aridion coating, applied to mobile technology inside and out after manufacture using a plasma, to protection for filtration media preventing clogging and coatings for trainers that reduce water absorption.
Image from Wikipedia

There is something stunning about the colours of a peacock feather. It’s not just a simple matter of the sort of coloured pigments an artist mixes up on a palette. The colours in the feathers almost glow in their iridescence, changing subtly with angle to catch the eye. To produce this effect, the feather contains a natural nanotechnology that has the potential to transform optics when this remarkable approach is adapted for use in human technology.
Both the iridescence of that peacock’s tail and the swirly, glittering appearance of the semi-precious stone opal are caused by forms of photonic lattices. These are physical structures at the nano level that act on light in a way that is reminiscent of electronics, like the semiconductors that act to switch and control electrons, giving unparalleled manipulation of photons.

The colours of the peacock feather bear no resemblance to those of a pigment. In blue paint, for example, the pigment is a material that tends to absorb most of the spectrum of white light but re-emits primarily blue, so we see anything painted with the pigment as being blue. In the peacock feathers it’s the internal structure of the feather (or to be precise the tiny ‘barbules’ on the feather) that produce the hue.
The colouration is primarily due to internal reflections off the repeated structure of the barbule, similar to the way the lattice arrangement of a crystal can produce enhanced reflection. What happens is that photons reflected from a deeper layer are in phase with those from an outer layer, reinforcing the particular colours of light (or energies of photons) that fit best with the lattice spacing. This is a photonic lattice. These effects depend on the angle at which the light reflects, giving the typical ‘shimmer’ of iridescence.
The practical applications of artificially created photonic crystals can do much more than produce a pretty effect and striking colours. Because a photonic lattice acts on light as semiconductors do on electrons, they are essential components if we are ever to build optical computers.
These theoretical machines would use photons to represent bits, rather than the electrical impulses we currently employ in a conventional computer. This could vastly increase the computing power. Because photons don’t interact with each other, many more can be crammed into a tiny space. What’s more, one of the biggest restrictions in current computer architecture is the complex spaghetti of links joining together different parts of the structure. With photons, those links can flow through each other in a basket of light – unlike wires and circuits, photons can pass through each other without interacting, allowing more complex and faster architectures. Equally, optical switching – and in the end, a computer is just a huge array of switches – could be much faster than the electronic equivalent.
There are significant technical problems to be overcome, but the potential is great. Photonic crystals are already used in special paint and ink systems which change colour depending on the angle at which the paint is viewed, reflection reducing coatings on lenses and high transmission photonic fibre optics.
Another example of nanotechnology having a quantum effect on light is plasmonics. Something remarkable happens, for example, if light is shone on a gold foil peppered with millions of nanoholes. It seems reasonable that only a tiny fraction of the light hitting the foil would pass through these negligible punctures, but in fact in a process known as ‘extraordinary optical transmission’ they act like funnels, channelling all the light that hits the foil through the sub-microscopic apertures. This bizarre phenomenon results from the interaction between the light and plasmons, waves in the two dimensional ocean of electrons in the metal.
The potential applications of plasmonics are remarkable. Not only the more obvious optical ones – near perfect lenses and supplementing the photonic lattices in superfast computers that use light rather than electrons to function – but also in the medical sphere to support diagnostics, by detecting particular molecules, and for drug delivery. Naomi Halas of Rice University in Texas envisions implanting tiny cylinders containing billions of plasmonic spheres, each carrying a minuscule dose of insulin. Infra red light, shone from outside the body, could trigger an exact release of the required dose. ‘Basically, people could wear a pancreas on their arm,’ said Halas.
Over the last seven weeks since the first post, we have explored a wide range of the ways that nanotechnology, given a push in the right direction by nature, is starting to be important in our lives. At the moment we are most likely to come across relatively simple applications like the nanoparticles in sun block or technology making fabrics and electronics water repellent.
As our abilities to construct nanostructures improve we will see increased use of the likes of carbon nanotubes and the nano-optics described in this piece. And eventually? It is entirely possible that we will see Richard Feynman’s 1950s speculation about nanomachines come to fruition, though they are likely to be more like the ‘wet’ machines of nature than a traditional mechanical device.
When nanotechnology appears in the news it is often in a negative light. We might hear that Prince Charles is worrying about the threat of grey goo, or the Soil Association won’t allow artificial nanoparticles in organic products. But the reality is very different. Nanotechnology is both fascinating and immensely valuable in its applications. I, for one, can’t wait to see what comes next.
This series has been sponsored by P2i, a British company that specializes in producing nanoscale water repellent coatings. P2i was founded in 2004 to bring technologies developed at the UK Government’s Defence Science & Technology Laboratory to the commercial market. Applications range from the Aridion coating, applied to mobile technology inside and out after manufacture using a plasma, to protection for filtration media preventing clogging and coatings for trainers that reduce water absorption.
Image from Wikipedia
Published on September 17, 2012 23:56
So long, farewell

One protagonist was arguing fiercely that it was essential to preserve every single species, though as usual, the arguments in detail were very flimsy. They came down to:
It's our (moral) duty - Essentially, because it's our fault that they're dying out, we have a duty to prevent it. I really don't know if this is true or not. I can see a good argument for not going out of your way to destroy a species (take the passenger pigeon as an example), but this isn't something we do any more. The world would be a less rich place without them - certainly true of, say, pandas. Sort of true of the 57th variety of almost identical shrew-like creature. Hard to argue for a beetle. Even harder for a bacterium.We don't know how we might benefit from them in the future - of course it's possible, but I suspect with most potential extinctions this 'okay, if altruism won't work, what's in it for me' approach is extremely low probability. We might benefit from staying in the house all day and never putting ourselves at risk from traffic. But hey.We don't know what difference their absence would make to the ecosystem - that's true, and we know that the removal/addition of some species can have devastating effects on a local ecosystem (think rabbits in Australia). But arguably, for the species that are at risk, they can't be having a big impact on their ecosystem - there aren't enough of them.Don't get me wrong, I am not suggesting we should do nothing about species we are interested in, but I really can't get behind the 'every single species should be preserved' argument. Species have always gone extinct. I know that because of our changes to the planet this is happening much faster at the moment than has been the case recently (though nowhere near as fast as in the great extinctions of the past), so I'm all in favour of putting on the brakes. But trying to save everything is crazy. We need an 80 percent solution, where I'd say that 80 percent should include the most potentially useful (to us an the environment) and the most appealing animals.
Some argue we shouldn't treat giant pandas so specially because of the 'awww!' factor. Rubbish. Given the choice, I am afraid I would save pandas over beetles and bacteria every time. Orwell might not have intended the way that some animals are more equal than others to be a positive lesson, but here it is.
Image from Wikipedia
Published on September 17, 2012 00:40
September 14, 2012
Thermodynamics? Who cares?
I was writing something yesterday for a book I'm currently working on about thermodynamics. It sounds, frankly, a bit of a dull subject. The name implies it's about the way heat moves around. And it is, sort of. It sounds like the sort of old fashioned science that dates from the age of the steam engine. And it is, sort of. Part of its origins certainly came from the need to understand steam engines better. But it is so much more.
One of the reasons for this is that surprisingly early on it was developed from thinking about engines to basics like atoms and molecules. How they interact and how we can look statistically at a whole bunch of them, because we certainly aren't going to be able to work on each one individually - there are just too many. I say 'surprisingly early' because when this theory was being developed a lot of scientists doubted that atoms existed at all, thinking they were just convenient mathematical models for working out the numbers. It was said for a long time that one of the reasons the remarkable Ludwig Boltzmann, one of the leading lights in the field, committed suicide was because there was so much opposition to his theories which were based on the reality of atoms. These days it's popular for historians of science to say his suicide was down to the depressive phase of bipolar disorder - which may be true, but it's hard to think such fervent opposition didn't make things worse.
I'm not going to drone through all four of the 'laws' of thermodynamics (terrible word to use in science, 'law' - it should be banned), but the one that is most exciting is the second law. This can be stated in a loose way as 'entropy (disorder) in a close system stays the same or increases', or 'you can't make a change in a closed system without increasing entropy' or for the steam engine enthusiasts, 'left to its own devices, heat will flow from a hotter to a cooler part of a system.' Or in the vernacular TANSTAAFL - there ain't no such thing as a free lunch.
This may all sound highly esoteric (apart from TANSTAAFL), but the second law is at the fundamental heart of existence. Every time anything changes - which, let's face it, is the interesting bit of life - the second law comes into play. It even explains teenage bedrooms - without the input of energy, disorder increases - and the eventual fate of the universe. Because the second law is so fundamental, it was the example C. P. Snow gave in his famous 'Two Cultures' ponderings as the equivalent of reading Shakespeare. He pointed out that most scientists have probably encountered Shakespeare, but very few artists have a clue about the second law of thermodynamics. Arguably they should.
The second law also produced a famous quote from one of the early twentieth century’s greatest scientists, Arthur Eddington, which I will leave you with. He said:
One of the reasons for this is that surprisingly early on it was developed from thinking about engines to basics like atoms and molecules. How they interact and how we can look statistically at a whole bunch of them, because we certainly aren't going to be able to work on each one individually - there are just too many. I say 'surprisingly early' because when this theory was being developed a lot of scientists doubted that atoms existed at all, thinking they were just convenient mathematical models for working out the numbers. It was said for a long time that one of the reasons the remarkable Ludwig Boltzmann, one of the leading lights in the field, committed suicide was because there was so much opposition to his theories which were based on the reality of atoms. These days it's popular for historians of science to say his suicide was down to the depressive phase of bipolar disorder - which may be true, but it's hard to think such fervent opposition didn't make things worse.
I'm not going to drone through all four of the 'laws' of thermodynamics (terrible word to use in science, 'law' - it should be banned), but the one that is most exciting is the second law. This can be stated in a loose way as 'entropy (disorder) in a close system stays the same or increases', or 'you can't make a change in a closed system without increasing entropy' or for the steam engine enthusiasts, 'left to its own devices, heat will flow from a hotter to a cooler part of a system.' Or in the vernacular TANSTAAFL - there ain't no such thing as a free lunch.
This may all sound highly esoteric (apart from TANSTAAFL), but the second law is at the fundamental heart of existence. Every time anything changes - which, let's face it, is the interesting bit of life - the second law comes into play. It even explains teenage bedrooms - without the input of energy, disorder increases - and the eventual fate of the universe. Because the second law is so fundamental, it was the example C. P. Snow gave in his famous 'Two Cultures' ponderings as the equivalent of reading Shakespeare. He pointed out that most scientists have probably encountered Shakespeare, but very few artists have a clue about the second law of thermodynamics. Arguably they should.
The second law also produced a famous quote from one of the early twentieth century’s greatest scientists, Arthur Eddington, which I will leave you with. He said:
‘If someone points out to you that your pet theory of the universe is in disagreement with Maxwell’s equations [the equations that describe how electromagnetism works] – then so much the worse for Maxwell’s equations. If it is found to be contradicted by observation – well these experimentalists do bungle things sometimes. But if your theory is found to be against the second law of thermodynamics I can give you no hope; there is nothing for it but to collapse in the deepest humiliation.’
Published on September 14, 2012 00:52
September 13, 2012
Science soundbites
It is popular in the scientific community to be snarky about people who talk about science in the media. Particularly if it's a science journalist or correspondent, but even if it is a full blown practising scientist, there will be much tutting, muttering and general attacking of the idiocy of the way the science is presented. I saw it happening an awful lot, for example, over the Higgs boson results - not an easy thing to explain. One scientist was very sarcastic about the analogy someone (actually a politician) used on the radio, even though it was exactly the same analogy that Brian Cox (who, after all, works at CERN when he has a day off from posing) (sorry - snark attack) had used in print.
I had a personal example of this last week. In my role as totally unpaid science correspondent for BBC Wiltshire (you pay peanuts...) I was asked in on the breakfast show to talk about ENCODE, the next generation human genome project that goes beyond the genes to look at how the rest of human DNA does all the switching of genes, and the differences in the way this operates in a wide range of cells. And I committed every error that the science moaning minnies complain about. I oversimplified, at least one thing I said was effectively wrong, and I didn't use the best analogies I could.
But. This was around a four minute slot to explain a huge scientific endeavour. I'm not a biologist. And the discussion was driven by the presenter, who inevitably was more interested in potential applications than the science itself. So not a great performance. Do I regret it? Not at all. And this is where we've got to stop moaning. The fact is, the listeners got more idea about what was going on than they would otherwise. They got a feel for the excitement, the remarkable work that was being undertaken (something they need to remember when parliament is talking about cutting science funding) and the potential for future benefits.
I honestly believe that it is better to fire people up to find out more and be supportive of science, even if what you say isn't perfect, rather than say nothing and have it drop off the agenda. It's also important to bear in mind that such broadcasts are not carefully scripted - it's all top of the head. You have to give some leeway. But even if it is scripted (or a book) I'd rather it was out there in an approachable fashion with a few errors than presented in a totally incomprehensible way by someone who totally understands the science but can't communicate, or even worse is not out there at all.
It's the Inconvenient Truth effect. Al Gore's global warming movie contained a number of unfortunate errors. But it did a lot of good. I'm not saying errors don't matter - but it's more important to communicate the gist and the feeling than to have the kind of accuracy that scientists naturally aim for. Ideally we'd have both. But this isn't an ideal world.
I had a personal example of this last week. In my role as totally unpaid science correspondent for BBC Wiltshire (you pay peanuts...) I was asked in on the breakfast show to talk about ENCODE, the next generation human genome project that goes beyond the genes to look at how the rest of human DNA does all the switching of genes, and the differences in the way this operates in a wide range of cells. And I committed every error that the science moaning minnies complain about. I oversimplified, at least one thing I said was effectively wrong, and I didn't use the best analogies I could.
But. This was around a four minute slot to explain a huge scientific endeavour. I'm not a biologist. And the discussion was driven by the presenter, who inevitably was more interested in potential applications than the science itself. So not a great performance. Do I regret it? Not at all. And this is where we've got to stop moaning. The fact is, the listeners got more idea about what was going on than they would otherwise. They got a feel for the excitement, the remarkable work that was being undertaken (something they need to remember when parliament is talking about cutting science funding) and the potential for future benefits.
I honestly believe that it is better to fire people up to find out more and be supportive of science, even if what you say isn't perfect, rather than say nothing and have it drop off the agenda. It's also important to bear in mind that such broadcasts are not carefully scripted - it's all top of the head. You have to give some leeway. But even if it is scripted (or a book) I'd rather it was out there in an approachable fashion with a few errors than presented in a totally incomprehensible way by someone who totally understands the science but can't communicate, or even worse is not out there at all.
It's the Inconvenient Truth effect. Al Gore's global warming movie contained a number of unfortunate errors. But it did a lot of good. I'm not saying errors don't matter - but it's more important to communicate the gist and the feeling than to have the kind of accuracy that scientists naturally aim for. Ideally we'd have both. But this isn't an ideal world.
Published on September 13, 2012 00:21