Farm Hall: the Fall into Failure

765px-FarmHallLarge

You probably know this.  In August, 1939, Einstein wrote a letter to the American government.  German scientists had announced that the energy holding an atom together could be released – in fact, 2.2 pounds-worth of uranium atoms would equal 10,000 tons of TNT.  Einstein said this implied a new kind of bomb that Hitler’s government was surely building.  In December, 1941, the American physicists figured out how to build one themselves and coalesced under the auspices of the Manhattan Project.  The feeling on the Manhattan Project, wrote one physicist’s wife, was, “You’ve got to get it done; others are working on it; Germans are working on it; hurry! hurry! hurry!” In August, 1945, American atomic bombs flattened Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and a couple hundred thousand people died.  One Manhattan Project scientist said, “Now we are all sons of bitches.”

You might not know this.  In April, 1945, the Alsos mission run by American scientist/spies scooped up the German atomic scientists, imprisoned them for six months in an English country house called Farm Hall, bugged their rooms and taped their conversations.  Turns out the German scientists had never gotten anywhere near a bomb.  In 1992, the transcripts were made public.

Dear God, somebody get hold of those transcripts and write a play! Continue reading

Teach Your _____ Well

5414506094_3308e81e4f

When I was a teenager, my dad installed a timer on my bedroom light. After 45 minutes, the light would flash a few times. Then, darkness. My dad was tired of me falling asleep with my light on. It was such a waste of energy. This, he said, was the perfect solution.

I started thinking about this light and my dad’s many quirks after reading a recent study about how knowledge about conservation passes among generations. In the current issue of Environmental Research Letters, researchers looked at how environmental education aimed at kids influences parents, too.

In what researchers report as the first controlled trial of environmental education’s reach, parents and kids in the Seychelles completed questionnaires about local wetlands and about their family’s water use. If kids had participated in a wetlands conservation program through a Seychelles wildlife club, the adults in their homes knew more about wetlands and also said they used water more efficiently—taking showers instead of baths, for example. And parents, the researchers say, weren’t aware of having learned about any of this from their children.

Continue reading

The Adventures of Dr. Watson, Science Writer

009azw4s

Sherlock Holmes is having another cultural moment, and as usual, I’m all in. I was raised on the original stories — thanks to a family friend who was a Baker Street Irregular — and this winter, I’ve treated myself to another trip through the canon.

This time, though, my sympathies aren’t so much with Sherlock as with the stories’ chronically underrated narrator, Dr. John H. Watson. For my dear Watson is, in many ways, a science writer like me — and he’s dealing with (not to mention living with) the world’s most exasperating source. For his equanimity in the face of withering insult, and his calm insistence on telling the human story behind the scientific solution, Dr. Watson deserves our profession’s equivalent of the Purple Heart.

Continue reading

Why is falling so funny?

SlushCupWipeout

The other morning while we were walking our dogs, my husband slipped on some snow and fell down in front of me. One moment he was stepping over a log, and the next he was on his back, feet up in the air. I laughed hysterically.

He wasn’t hurt. Nor was he amused. And his grumpiness just made the whole episode that much more comical. I couldn’t stop laughing, even after he pointed out that it was actually kind of mean to giggle over his misfortune. I agreed that it was rotten of me, yet I couldn’t stop smirking.

And that got me wondering — why is it so funny when someone falls?

Turns out, scientists are on it. I’ll explain their findings in a minute. But first, notice how many examples of this kind of humor circulate on the internet. Here are three of them, starting with the Ice Man. I dare you not to laugh.

 

Continue reading

Not Every Day Is A Good Day

shark_BRACCO-1
On the best days, journalism is a roller coaster of excitement and possibility – a front row seat to the entire human endeavor. Science journalism, on a good day, is especially so. You never know if you will be interviewing a Nobel laureate about the universe’s stretch marks, inspecting boxes of lethal scorpions, or strapping into an experiment in pain thresholds.

But not every day is a good day. For good journalism, you will have entire days wasted on logistics, getting lost, or just plain sitting on your butt. That’s kind of what happened a couple weeks ago.

Continue reading

The Last Word

mooseheadFebruary 18 – 22

During the war, German anatomists who were university professors did research on bodies of people who died in the concentration camps.  I don’t know how Heather can even write about it.

Guest Jill U. Adams talks to her son about driving rules and speed limits, has to figure out what to tell him about life’s gray areas.  The Northeast’s fish restoration efforts aren’t helping.

A reality show that Jessa actually learned from: indigenous arctic people raised in the cities, sent back out on to the tundra. Turns out they don’t know how to tan moosehide.

Guest Michael Balter goes to an ice age exhibit at the British Museum called Arrival of the Modern Mind.  He loves it  He wishes that its judgment of modern wasn’t off by 100,000 years.

Erika decides the apple juice has been in the frig long enough, decides she better drink it, asks Tom what’s the weird stuff floating in it, Tom’s no help.  Dear reader, should she drink it or not?  HELP!

 

Guest Post: Looking for Moderns in All the Wrong Places

Techo_de_Altamira_(replica)-Museo_Arqueológico_Nacional

 

When the British Museum puts together an exhibition of more than 100 pieces of prehistoric art from all over Europe, stretching back nearly 40,000 years, you want to go. And so I did, making the rounds of this spectacular show the day after its opening on February 7. You’ve got until May 26 to see it yourself, and it’s as good an excuse as any to visit London and maybe even catch a glimpse of William and Kate while you’re there.

But I had mixed feelings about the exhibition, not least because of its title: “Ice Age art: Arrival of the modern mind.” What does this mean? Was the human mind already modern on its arrival in Europe, or did it only get modern after its arrival on the continent, borne by anatomically modern Homo sapiens immigrating from Africa?  Indeed, the title immediately evoked what most human origins researchers today would consider a retrograde, Eurocentric view of human evolution.

Continue reading