The Last Word

shutterstock_287767313November 16-20, 2015

Guest Ramin Skibba predicts a rise of Persian science that will parallel sanctions relief.

Helen takes a tour of a DC wastewater plant that has a new biosolids processing system.

Craig sees “The Martian” and traces its story through a continuum of intellectual striving that was alive in the Paleolithic development of the Clovis point.

Jane Hu rocks our cozy little assumption that we’re safe from earthquakes if we don’t live in California. Do not be lulled by infrequency.

I stumble across psychological first aid, a crucial addition to our current crisis management plans.

 

Image: Shutterstock

In extremis

red crossIn April 2001, my cousin and I hitchhiked to Quebec City to register our dissent. Tens of thousands were gathered to protest the Free Trade Areas of the Americas Summit and we wanted to play our part for global social justice. Like many politically active young people before and since, I experienced what can happen when police are given the anonymity of a riot control uniform. I returned home reeking of tear gas and traumatized. It was exam time, but I was a wreck, jumpy and disillusioned. The world was suddenly a very, very scary place — and my experience was just a microcosm of those in the wake of atrocities and natural disasters.

“In the hours after a disaster, at least 25% of the population may be stunned and dazed, apathetic and wandering…especially if the impact has been sudden and totally devastating.” – Beverley Raphael, from When Disaster Strikes

Despite the best efforts of peacemakers everywhere, violent conflict is in no hurry to leave us. Battles and attacks last mere hours – sometimes minutes – but their effects can stay with us for a lifetime. Ranked close behind in trauma are natural disasters that, thanks to climate change, are almost certain to continue their rise in frequency.

Doctors Without Borders can be on hand to provide medical assistance to refugees, and the Red Cross can handle the logistics of food aid, but the essence of horror is the person overwhelmed by forces far larger than their ability to cope. The broken mind must be tended to – not just later in years of counseling, but right then and there, using psychological first aid. Continue reading

Guest Post: Why humans suck at earthquake preparedness

Driving through my hometown in Kentucky, I admire the old-growth oaks, the spires and stained glass of Victorian era homes, and the tall brick chimneys. Then I think about how they would crumble in an earthquake. Ever since moving to the west coast, I size up the earthquake safety of every place I go: I note every building’s exits; I avoid waiting on or under overpasses; I plan which way I’d run if a big tree falls. But growing up in the Ohio Valley, I never, ever thought about earthquakes.

I probably should have, though. Kentucky falls within both the New Madrid seismic zone (NMSZ) and the Wabash Valley seismic zone (WVSZ), fault systems that have a history of producing catastrophic earthquakes. The NMSZ, for instance, was responsible for a series of earthquakes in 1811-1812 so large that it disrupted the flow of the Mississippi river, creating a meander that cut off the southwestern edge of Kentucky from the rest of the state. Yet the region remains blissfully unaware of and unprepared for the next “big one,” which the USGS says has a 7-10% chance of happening in the next 50 years. A 2009 report funded by FEMA estimated that a quake that size could result in 86,000 casualties and over $300 billion in damage. The chances of a smaller but still-significant quake (a 6.0) are even higher – USGS says there’s a 25-40% chance of that in the next 50 years.

Given this risk, it seems mindboggling to me that my hometown is not more prepared. But it seems like this is a very human problem: we have a hard time responding to slow-moving threats. Despite the years-long drought, rich Californians still have water coming out of their pipes, so why not water the polo fields? And who cares about climate change when you’ll be dead by the time the last glacier melts? The tale many evolutionary psychologists tell is that we are made for immediate gratification. Planning for an earthquake – something that may or may not happen, and that may or may not be deadly – gets deprioritized in favor of more pressing issues, like deadlines and dinner. Continue reading

“The Martian” and Ice Age Astronauts

The MartianTwo nights ago I sat in a theater watching the film “The Martian.” I loved seeing a viable spacecraft making gravitational slingshots around planets while a stranded, potato-growing astronaut claimed himself the first colonist on Mars.

What’s there not to love?

Meanwhile, in my coat pocket I carried an object from an entirely different age of colonization.

I had just spent three days with flint knapper Greg Nunn in Utah. I had commissioned Nunn to make a replica of a Clovis-era spear point, a megafauna hunting tool from the American Paleolithic. I had put the rocket-shaped artifact — the length of my hand from wrist to fingertip — in my pocket and forgot it was there until I walked out of the theater. Reaching in, I found the sharp-edged stone and pulled it out.

Like everything I had just watched, the Clovis point was the height of technology for its time. It was a tool being carried into an unknown land 13,000 years ago. As thin as a letter envelope and long enough to glide into the heart or lungs of a mammoth or Pleistocene bison, the Clovis point was a tool of colonization. It was a landing module on Mars. Continue reading

Taking the Waste out of Wastewater

gulls on a wastewater treatment pondIn a fenced-off corner of Washington, D.C, down at the very tip, where the city’s diamond shape meets the Potomac river, is a giant feeding station for gulls.

Ok, that’s not its main function. If you have ever pooped in DC, or in parts of four surrounding counties, including Dulles International Airport, you have helped support the birds at the Blue Plains Advanced Wastewater Treatment Plant. It’s run by DC Water, an agency that loads visitors like me into a tour van that says “DRINK TAP” on the side. For historic reasons, D.C.’s drinking water is actually treated by the Army Corps of Engineers, not DC Water. But DC Water handles pretty much everything else about it, including what happens to it after it’s been used.

“Used water” is the term preferred by engineer Bill Brower, the program manager for DC Water’s Biosolids Program and the leader of a tour of Blue Plains arranged on Sunday for a local science writing  organization. “Enriched water” is another amusing euphemism. You see, “waste water” makes it sound like trash, Brower says, when actually they can get a lot out of the stuff from our toilets. (And, the system being how it is, from our sinks, dishwashers, washing machines, and, in the old parts of town, even the water that runs off the streets.) Continue reading

Guest Post: The Return of Persian Science

Me and Sohrab Rahvar outside the physics department of University of Sharif, May 13, 2008. (Photo: Forood Daneshbod.)

Like many multiethnic and multicultural people, I’ve had difficulty coming to terms with my multifaceted yet fragmented identity. As a half-Iranian in the midst of Americans, I’ve lacked key cultural influences and a US-centric worldview, while in Iran I feel like an outsider at times.

I’ve had the wonderful opportunity to visit twice so far—once as a teenager and once more recently as a physicist. Each time, I’ve been very observant in the hopes of better understanding an important side of myself. I’ve explored its fascinatingly unique cities, including the massive capital, Tehran, and its huge bazaars; Esfahan, with its spectacular architecture and Jahan Square, a national landmark; and Shiraz, with its tombs of poet giants, Hafez and Saadi. I’ve also looked for signs of how the country appears to be changing as it becomes more open to the international community.

At the invitation of Sohrab Rahvar, physics professor at the University of Sharif, I gave two seminars, one there and another at the University of Tehran. I presented postdoctoral research I was doing at the Max Planck Institute for Astronomy in Heidelberg, Germany, investigating connections between observations of galaxies and theories of dark matter.

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The Last Word

Atacama in bloom

 

November 9-13

This week, guest poster Soren Wheeler shares why the chaos and failure inherent in science should be embraced in science education.

In a dispatch from China, I offer a glimpse into the fieldwork that, despite the roaches, makes my heart go pitter-pat.

Craig Childs exposes a secret of the cracked and desolate Atacama Desert: It comes, gloriously, to life.

During this week of Veteran’s Day, Michelle Nijhuis asks us to remember another kind of soldier, the environmental activist serving, and often dying, to protect the wild.

And Rose Eveleth considers whether the Internet is like the lead plumbing of ancient Rome, a tremendously useful tool that betters lives while slowly poisoning its users.

Photo: Martha Zabalete/teleSUR (“http://www.telesurtv.net/english/multimedia/Flowers-Bloom-in-Chiles-Atacama-Desert-20151102-0017.html”)

The Internet Is a Series of Lead Tubes

Lead_water_pipe,_Roman,_20-47_CE_Wellcome_L0058475

Like many of you, I suspect, I have a love hate relationship with the internet. I love the access it gives me to all sorts of information, and how it connects me with people I would have never been able to hear from before. I hate how it also contains spaces for people to easily gather to abuse and harass people. I have made great, deep friends on the internet, and I have also wanted to burn the whole thing down.

A few months ago I talked to Finn Brunton, a digital historian at NYU, for an episode of my podcast Meanwhile in the Future. The episode was all about why we might, voluntarily and collectively, decide to abandon the internet. It’s a fun one, and you should listen if that kind of weird future speculation intrigues you. But Brunton also said something that didn’t make it into the podcast, but that I think about a lot now. It was an analogy for the internet, and how future us might think about our current internet world. Maybe, he said, the internet is like lead pipes in Rome.

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