Regular readers will know I am usually unstinting in my praise of the New Scientist. But not this week.
There is a very poor article by Michael Brooks, an admitted non-programmer (would you have someone who could not speak French write on the Académie française?) lamenting the “teetering tower of Binary Babel” of the “jerry-rigged” programming languages most of which, he claims, are “still thinly veiled versions of Fortran“.
To make it all better, he asserts, “salvation may be at hand in a nascent endeavour in computer science:user-friendly languages that rethink the compiler.”
These languages “allow programmers to see, in real time, exactly what they are constructing as they write their code.”
And he adds: “Bizarrely, the outcome may look rather familiar” – like a spreadsheet he says.
So, actually, we are back with visual programming tools – such as “Subtext“. Donald Knuth can sleep easy then – Brooks is not challenging him as the greatest living writer on programming, that’s for sure.
I am old enough to remember the legend that was Guy Kewney waxing lyrical in the pages of “Personal Computer World” in 1981 about a BASIC generator called “The Last One” which did indeed claim to be the last program you’d need. At least Kewney demonstrated he knew the subject, even if he got that one profoundly wrong.
The forward march of time is possibly the most basic and shared human experience. Whatever else may happen in our lives none of us can make time run backwards (the title of this post recalls Martin Amis‘s brilliant novel premised on this idea – time running backwards – if you’ve read it you will understand why we are never likely to see it filmed, as 90 minutes of backwards time would be just too much to take.)
Yet, as Lee Smolin points out in this week’s New Scientist, our most fundamental theories of physics – quantum mechanics and general relativity – are time free: they work just as well if time runs the other way round. Physicists square this circle by insisting on only time-forward solutions and by imposing special conditions on our universe. We have even invented a physical category – which has no material existence per se – called entropy and demanded that it always increase.
The accepted physics leaves us in the difficult position of believing that “the future” is not the future at all – it exists and has always existed but we are barred from getting there “ahead of time”. It’s a deep contradiction, though whether this is a flaw in the theories or in human comprehension is what the debate (such as it exists, those who challenge QM and GR are very much in the minority) is all about.
In Smolin’s view (or perhaps my interpretation of it) all of this violates the “Copernican principle” – that we observers are nothing special – that has guided much of physics’s advances of the last five centuries. So what if it is actually telling us that our theories are wrong and like Newtonian gravity is to general relativity, they are merely approximations?
Smolin’s argument is just this. He says we should base our theories on the fundamental observation that time flows in only one direction and so find deeper, truer theories based on unidirectional time.
Of course I am not suggesting that Edwards himself is evil, but his proposal certainly is: because he writes, in the current issue of the Notices of the American Mathematical Society (“Platonism is the Law of the Land”) that not just mathematical discoveries should be patentable but, in fact, all scientific discoveries should be: indeed he explicitly cites general relativity as an idea that could have been covered by a patent.
Edwards is direct in stating his aim:
Up until recently, the economic consequences of these restrictions in intellectual property rights have probably been quite slight. Similarly, the economic consequences of allowing patents for new inventions were also probably quite slight up to about 1800. Until then, patents were mainly import franchises. After 1800 the economic consequences of allowing patents for new inventions became immense as our society moved from a predominately agricultural stage into a predominately industrial stage. Since the end of World War II,our society has been moving into an information stage, and it is becoming more and more important to have property rights appropriate to this stage. We believe that this would best be accomplished by Congress amending the patent laws to allow anything not previously known to man to be patented.
Part of me almost wants this idea to be enacted, because like the failure of prohibition of alcohol it would teach an unforgettable lesson. But as someone who cares about science and the good that science could do for humanity it is deeply chilling.
For instance, it is generally accepted that there is some flaw in our theories of gravity (general relativity) and quantum mechanics in that they do not sit happily beside one another. Making them work together is a great task for physicists. And if we do it – if we find some new theory that links these two children of the 20th century – perhaps it will be as technologically important as it will be scientifically significant (after all, quantum mechanics gave us the transistor and general relativity the global positioning system). But if that theory was locked inside some sort of corporate prison for twenty or twenty-five years it could be that the technological breakthroughs would be delayed just as long.
Reading through a copy of the New Scientist from a few weeks back (2 February edition), I was struck by the comment in an article on the effects of sleep on the human body by Nancy Wesensten, a psychologist at the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research in Maryland:
Sleeping deteriorates like everything else does as you age… People have more difficulty falling asleep, and that could account for the cognitive decline we see in normal ageing.
Until I started a vigorous exercise regime about 16 months ago, I really did find it difficult to fall asleep. Since then, while I don’t have my partner’s ability to more or less doze off as soon as my head hits the pillow, I generally no longer have a problem.
I have often seen claims made for exercise as a means of maintaining mental acuity – perhaps there is some substance to those claims and this is the reason?
The world’s Dreamliners are currently grounded while regulators and the manufacturer aim to sort out problems with the plane’s batteries – which supply a heavy duty electrical system that replace the more traditional (and heavier) hydraulic controls in other planes.
I imagine, and hope, that the battery problems can be sorted out – though the Lithium Ion system chosen is notorious for overheating and fire risk – or “unexpected rapid oxidisation” as an earlier (non-aviation) LiOn battery fire problem was called.
But what worries me about the planes is a different issue – their outer shell is made of plastic, again considerably lighter than traditional aircraft materials, but lacking the quality of a Faraday Cage.
The Faraday Cage effect is what makes traditional airliners (and motor cars) safe from lightning strikes – lightening represents a terrific concentration of energy but, actually, very little charge – and so when lightning strikes a sheet of metal, like a car or an airliner, the charge is spread and the strike rendered safe (in contrast poor conductors like human flesh burn up, which is what makes us so vulnerable).
Now, the Dreamliner has a metal substructure which is designed to replicate the effect of a Faraday Cage but, having read a critical piece on this in the current edition of the New Scientist, I am not convinced it has been tested enough to be reliable. Anyone who has flown through the heart of an electrical storm – as I did a few years ago coming out of Tbilisi – will understand just how essential it is that the Dreamliner’s electrical properties are fully reliable.
Update: I am a hopeless speller and, as was pointed out to me I mis-spelled ‘lightning’ throughout this the first time round. Apologies.
This week’s New Scientist reports (online link below- it’s a short piece in the physical edition on p. 19) that Duolingo – a free online service designed to help people learn a new language by translating web content is working very well.
To probe the site’s effectiveness, Roumen Vesselinov at the City University of New York used standard tests of language ability… he found that students needed an average of 34 hours to learn the equivalent of … the first semester of a university Spanish course.
I have just been over to Duolingo’s site myself – refreshing some French – and it is certainly easy to use. The site’s blog shows that this project has some strong values and has set itself some big targets – it looks well worth exploring.
This week’s New Scientist reports that Polish computer scientist Wojciech Mazurczyk and his colleagues have found a way to use silence in Skype calls to encrypt data.
Silence in Skype is signified by 70 bit packets instead of 130 bit packets that carry speech. Skype Hide allows users to inject encrypted data into those 70 bits.
An eavesdropper listening to the call would therefore hear nothing.
Of course that wouldn’t stop somebody delving into the packets and rooting out the encrypted data – whether they could decrypt that is another matter.
In the end Skype probably cannot be trusted for secure communications because it’s algorithms are proprietary – we simply do not know in detail how it works and whether anybody is cracking it.
Having worked with opposition politicians who use Skype to evade state intrusion, this lack-of-trust-by-design has always bothered me: but the it is hard to explain one-way functions to most people anyway.
Skype Hide is due to be publicly demo’ed in June at a steganography conference in Montpellier.
The current issue of New Scientist has a short but interesting piece about pykrete – the material, made of ice and saw dust, once proposed as the basis for aircraft carrier production during the Battle of the Atlantic – a conflict at its very peak 70 years ago.
In essence, while Britain, America and the Soviet Union between them could, by the end of 1942 deploy superior forces to the Nazis and deliver hammer blows – such as that seen at Stalingrad and in a smaller, but still strategically vital, way in the Western Desert, Britain was in severe danger of running out of food and fuel because of losses to the U-Boats in the Atlantic.
The battle was fought in science and engineering as much as in bullets, bombs and torpedoes. Radar (or RDF as the British called it) and Sonar (ASDIC was the British name) were not invented during the conflict but they were improved and perfected as a direct result (the cavity magnetron – now found in almost every western home in a microwave oven – was an essential innovation invented in 1940 and deployed to devastating effect in US and British planes for centimetric radar in the battle). And, of course, the greatest secret of all – the British/Polish cracking of the Enigma machine – was also central (the British got back “in” to the German navy enigma in December 1942).
Pykrete was part of this scientific battle – based around the idea of Geoffrey Pyke, the archetypal dotty scientist (and according to Wikipedia first cousin of Magnus Pyke, so amiable eccentricity was plainly a family characteristic) . I first read of pykrete in Giles Fodden’s Turbulence – and to be honest the New Scientist article doesn’t take me much beyond the novel except to confirm some of the more bizarre episodes in the book (such as Mountbatten’s HQ being in cellars underneath Smithfield meat market) and the rather odd vignette of Canadian archivists claiming to know nothing of detailed plans they once bandied about 20 years ago (does someone fear Al-Q’ida or the North Koreans are building a pykrete boat?).
The New Scientist piece does suggest, though, that some of the wilder hopes for pykrete were misconceived, but in truth we still don’t know if it could or would be viable. By late 1942 the crack in Engima, combined with longer range aircraft, faster cargo ships, centimetric radar (which allowed much finer resolution and so made it easier to pick out U-boats on the surface) and Leigh Lights meant that the balance of forces was shifting dramatically against the Kriegsmarine and the question of whether pykrete could have worked was rendered moot.
Anyone interested in the role of science in the Second World War would be well advised to see if they could pick up a copy of Brian Johnson’s Secret War: now 35 years old – and an accompaniment to the BBC series of the same name (which for the first time revealed the truth of “Station X” and the Enigma crack) – it is a tale of genius and daring-do and the good guys win in the end.
I have to be careful here, as it’s not unknown for bloggers to be sued in the English courts for the things they write about science. So I will begin by saying I am not, and have no intention of, casting aspersions on the integrity of any of the authors of the paper I am about to discuss. Indeed, my main aim is to ask a few questions.
The reason it came to my attention today is because it was mentioned in the “Feedback” diary column of the current issue of the New Scientist:
the authors insist that in “future efforts to replicate this finding… persons holding explicitly negative expectations should not be allowed to participate for the same reason that dirty test tubes are not allowed in biology experiments”. [Correspondent] asks whether this may be “the most comprehensive pre-emptive strike ever” against any attempt to replicate the results.
But I want to ask a few questions about the findings of the report which are, in summary, that casting a spell over chocolate makes it a more effective mood improver.
In their introduction to the paper the authors state:
Cumulatively, the empirical evidence supports the plausibility that MMI [mind-matter interaction] phenomena do exist.
Again, not doubting their sincerity, I do have to question their understanding of physics when they state:
Similarities between ancient beliefs about contact magic and the modern phenomenon of quantum entanglement raise the possibility that, like other ethnohistorical medical therapies once dismissed as superstition – eg, the use of leeches and maggots in medicine – some practices such as blessing food may reflect more than magical thinking or an expression of gratitude.
The study measured the mood of the eaters of chocolate over a week. Three groups ate chocolate “blessed” in various ways and one ate unblessed chocolate.
The first thing that is not clear (at least to me) is the size of each group. The experiment is described as having been designed for 60 participants, but then states that 75 signed informed consents before reporting that 62 “completed all phases of the study”. Does that mean that 13 dropped out during it? As readers of Bad Pharma will know it is an error to simply ignore drop outs (if they are there – as I say it is not clear.)
The researchers base their conclusion that –
This experiment supports the ethnohistorical lore suggesting that the act of blessing food, with good intentions, may go beyond mere superstitious ritual – it may also have measurable consequences
– substantially on the changes in mood on one day – day 5 of the 7.
The researchers say that the p-value for their finding on that day is 0.0001 – ie there is a 1 in 10000 chance this is the result of chance alone.
I have to say I just not convinced (not by their statistics which I am sure are sound) but by the argument. Too small a sample, too short a period, too many variables being measured (ie days, different groups), a lack of clarity about participation and so on. But I would really appreciate it if someone who had a stronger background in statistics than me had a look.
I do not write about biology-related issues here much: official participation ended with a B grade at ‘O’ level in 1982, but a New Scientist article on the evolutionary history of the (various) human lice (which does not yet appear to be online) is just too fascinating to ignore.
Primate lice are different from most species of wingless insects of the order Phthiraptera in that they suck blood: most lice just live on dead skin and similar detritus. Not all primates are infected either – Orang Utangs and Gibbons do not suffer. But the human head louse shares a common ancestor with the louse of the Chimp – just as we and Chimps share common ancestors.
But it turns out there is more than one species of human head louse and it is likely that the rarer forms – found in two groups, the first in the Americas and Asia and the second only in Nepal and Ethiopia – are descended from the lice of other (now extinct) hominids. The most common form of head louse can be dated back to about 6 million years ago, but the less common forms appear to have only established themselves with homo sapiens about 0.5 million years ago.
Then there are the pubic lice – commonly known as crabs – which, as the name suggests, live on pubic hair. These are not descended from head lice but actually, it appears, from the lice of the gorilla and crossed to humans about 3 million years ago. This leaves open the prospect that human had sex with gorillas or (perhaps more likely as it still happens today) ate gorilla meat.
Head and pubic lice are a public health menace but in general pose no serious threat. Not so the clothes louse. Typhus – the disease carried by these – killed millions in Europe in the 20th century (particularly in times of war) and is still killing around tens of thousands of people across the world every year. But it would appear the clothes louse is merely a mutated form of the head louse.
In experiments head lice transferred to clothes die in massive numbers but a few have a genetic disposition to survive and will then reproduce in massive numbers. It is this overwhelming number that may make them deadly, rather than any other particular characteristic. The genetics suggest that humans began to wear clothes (as we became less hairy and gained new skills and tools) perhaps 170,000 years ago.