Blogs / Cosmic Variance

It’s been a while since I wrote about Cafe Scientifique Syracuse. You might recall that I originally posted about setting up Cafe Scientifique, and later reported on the first meeting. Now, all of a sudden, we’ve had our eighth meeting and so this seems like a good time to tell you how it’s going.

Before last night’s meeting, our previous seven topics were

• What Use is the Human Genome Project? (Scott Erdman, Biology Department, S.U.)
• From Sherlock Holmes to CSI: Chemistry as a Forensic Science (James Spencer, Chemistry Department, S.U.)
• 14.1 Billion Years of Cosmic History in 20 Minutes (Mark Trodden, Physics Department, S.U.)
• The Looming Energy Problem: How Can Research Help? (Francis DiSalvo, Cornell Center for Materials Research, Cornell University)
• The Science and Ethics of Stem Cell Research (Mark Noble, Department of Biomedical Genetics, University of Rochester Medical Center)
• How Do We Know Evolution Really Happened? (Linda Ivany, Department of Earth Sciences, S.U.)
• The Unconscious Perpetrator: A Social-Psychological Perspective on Stigma (Collette Eccleston, Department of Psychology, S.U.)

We felt that all of these meetings went extremely well, yielding an audience between 30 and 50 each time, a lively discussion period and generally a good time had by all. A couple of weeks ago, however, we had a short meeting to evaluate how we are doing and what we might consider changing to tweak and improve how Cafe Scientifique performs.

As a result, we have widened our advertising (to try to attract more non-academics and to make sure we reach as much of the medical community as we can); we have begun using a P.A. system (because we were finding that, for most if not all speakers, some people in the room were having trouble following the discussion session); we decided to allow the use of media in the talks (such as a few powerpoint slides, since we felt this would be great for certain topics, although we did worry a little that it might formalize things a little too much); we resolved to keep our time schedule more strictly (20 minutes for talks, 10 minute break, 1 hour discussion); and we have tried to get our line-up of speakers sorted out further in advance (again, to help with advertising). Our hosts – Ambrosia restaurant in Armory Square in downtown Syracuse – are extremely flexible and helpful and so we were able to make the physical changes to the format rather seamlessly.

Last night was the first meeting after we made these changes, and so I was particularly interested to see how things went. Here’s our usual announcement

Please join us at the next Cafe Scientifique, Tuesday April 4, where the topic will be:

Black Holes, Einstein and Spacetime Ripples

The discussion will be initiated by a 20-minute presentation by Prof. Peter Saulson from the Physics Department at Syracuse University. Prof. Saulson has worked on gravity wave detectors for the past fifteen years and is spokesperson of the Laser Interferometer Gravitational Wave Observatory (LIGO) experiment. This exciting field of research promises a real chance of confirming the existence of gravity waves and will not only provide a new check of general relativity, but also open a new and dramatically distinct observational window for astronomy.

The Cafe takes place at Ambrosia Restaurant, Armory Square in Syracuse, at 7 pm.

There is a $5 door charge, but this will cover some delicious snacks provided by Ambrosia, and our own bartender so that we don’t have to go into the main part of the restaurant to order drinks. As usual, we waive the cover charge for all students — just identify yourself as such.

Cafe Scientifique Syracuse is supported in part by funds provided by the departments of Biology, Chemistry, Earth Sciences, Physics and Psychology and the Soling Program of Syracuse University.

See you there!

Well, it was just great! First, Peter did a wonderful job. He is a master at this kind of thing and was able, in twenty minutes, to convey the essentials and excitement of black holes and then to describe not just gravitational waves, but also how a Michelson Interferometer works (he brought a small working one to demonstrate) and how one is used in LIGO.

There were 55 people in the audience, including a large number of students (some physicists, and many others not) who I hadn’t seen at any of our previous cafes. The room was full of people eager to listen, learn and then, after grabbing some delicious sushi and dumpling snacks, to ask many questions. And the questions really were excellent; keeping Peter occupied providing detailed yet accessible answers all the way to the end. The organizers and our speaker had a nice dinner at Ambrosia afterwards and rewarded ourselves with some good wine.

I think our evaluation of the Cafe, and our tweaking of our system were very successful. In particular, the P.A. system and Peter’s powerpoint slides worked extremely well.

Over the last few months I’ve been contacted by and spoken on the phone with several people from New York and Chicago who are interested in starting up their own versions of Cafe Scientifique and who wanted to get a feel for the logistical challenges involved. I’ve encouraged them to go ahead and get started and I also hope that any of you reading this who are also considering the same thing will just jump in. It’s a very fun and interesting experience, doesn’t take too much work and provides people with something they’re hungry for, while educating people about issues that we as scientists find important.

Next month our meeting is on May 2nd, with topic

Natural Products: Evolution’s Solution to Problems of Medicinal Chemistry (Chris Boddy, Department of Chemistry, S.U.)

If you’re from nearby, maybe I’ll see you there.

It’s taking awhile to recover from the big trip to India, and I still don’t feel up to writing my usual witty, thoughtful, full of insights, humerous, type of post. Ok, let’s just say I’m having trouble putting a coherent string of words of any type together. So here’s a list of random thoughts, crossing through my brain this evening.

If I cough just one more time, I think my brains will come out through my eyeballs! It’s literally to the point where my head hurts from all the coughing. I captured this cough while traveling in India – it’s been 4 weeks now and has actually become worse since arriving home. Went to the doctor last week, got good drugs, and the cough got worse. I am forced to cancel a trip I had scheduled later this week for a colloquium and also early next week for a conference talk.

Nonetheless, I finally did a little bit of science today. Gosh that felt good! Had a phone meeting with a group of collaborators and made the usual small step forward on a project. We are almost ready to make real progress and push to the finish. Really made my day.

Talked to my parents, and got a 5 minute lecture from my conservative father about the good congresswoman from Atlanta who attacked a Capitol Hill guard with her phone. Love my Dad dearly, but no mention of the resignation of the good congressman from Texas.

SLAC graduated another PhD student yesterday – Michael Binger. Congratulations to Michael who did a great job defending his thesis (Renormalization within QCD) and held up to the continual barrage of questions from members of the committee! The theory group celebrated with cake afterwards. And then some of us coughed our way through a fabulous dinner. Michael Binger, it turns out, has a fantastic wine collection and brought some special bottles to celebrate the occasion. Only in my dreams do such bottles occupy my wine cellar. Michael will be taking a year off to pursue his hobby/real job (he’s a professional poker player and does well enough to buy spectacular wine) before settling into a physics career.

I still have weird eating habits after being in India for so long. Last week, I couldn’t eat at all. Absolutely no appetite. This week I am eating things in binges. Tonight was brussel sprouts. The entire box. Ok, maybe I shouldn’t admit that.

Along with the brussel sprouts I forced down an omelette. The most amazing thing was how well it cooked! You see, everybody pitched in and bought me a bunch of really good pans for Christmas. The entire rest of my life, I’ve used pans that I got with grocery store stamps while I was a graduate student! After the omelette experience, I can now say with all definitity, that really good pans make a difference.

I was away for 3 weeks and all sorts of things happened physics-wise. Things like that never happen while I’m home scouring the news! Mixing of what we call the B_sub_s meson was discovered. I’ve been waiting for that result for , well, 20 years!!! And now that the result is in, it’s anti-climatic since the measured value is exactly what the Standard Model of particle physics predicts. yawn…. But, then there’s the supposed axion discovery. Now, that’s potentially exciting!!! I know little about the experiment, but asked a colleague today for his opinion – he didn’t have a good answer, so I have to talk to Helen Quinn tomorrow. She’ll know.

The owls took advantage of my absence and moved back into my attic. This is an on-going battle, and is most likely the topic of a future post.

I am just starting to sort through my pictures of India. My magic camera performed superbly! Aren’t you glad you don’t have to do this much laundry!

And, how about chicken anyone?

This story is so amazing/silly/horrifying that it’s taken a few days to sink in. Short version: Dr. Eric Pianka of the University of Texas, an internationally recognized ecologist, goes around giving talks warning that the Earth is in major trouble. We’re headed for an ecological disaster, and human beings in particular are in serious danger of being wiped out by a deadly virus like Ebola, perhaps leading to the death of 90% of our current population. It might even be good for the environment over all (although bad for us, obviously). He’s an alarmist, no doubt about it, but it’s better to hear about such disaster scenarios than to simply ignore them.

And then — and here’s the part that is so bizarre that it takes a while to really believe it — “citizen scientist” and creationist Forrest Mims apparently heard Pianka give a talk, and decided that Pianka is advocating that we release a virus to kill 90% of the Earth’s population. Completely untrue, of course; just a simple-minded and mean-spirited twisting of the guy’s words. Even from the original story, you could tell that there was a serious disconnect between portrayal and reality — the actual quotes from Pianka didn’t measure up to the surrounding alarmist hysteria.

But the right-wing/creationist blogosphere has gone completely nutso over this. I thought my fellow left-wing/scientific friends might be exaggerating the reaction a bit, but it’s true — dozens of posts about the crazy “Dr. Doom” who longs to bring down our civilization through bioterrorism. ID advocate (and tireless defender of academic freedom!) William Dembski has taken the obvious step for someone who is unhinged but nevertheless concerned — he has reported Pianka to the Department of Homeland Security. A good summary of the craziness has been written by Nick Matzke at the Panda’s Thumb; more coverage from PZ Myers (and here), Ed Brayton, Wesley Elsberry (and here), and DarkSyde (and here).

There’s a lesson here, although damned if I can figure out what it is. PZ thinks that these people are just anti-academic, and that it’s part of a campaign to discredit the very notion of expertise. But I suspect that it’s less calculated than that — we’re talking about folks who find it completely plausible to imagine that liberal biology professors are eager to wipe out most of the human race. The basic cognitive short-circuit seems to be an inability to understand the difference between a sentiment of the form “A human population of one billion is more ecologically sustainable than one of six billion” and something like “I would like to personally murder five out of every six living people.” It’s the right-wing equivalent of people who think that the 9/11 attacks were orchestrated by Halliburton and/or the Mossad. Except that it’s not a fringe movement; the buzz is all over the right hemiblogosphere, and was straightforwardly reported by Matt Drudge and others.

Next time I mention that a decay of our vacuum state via bubble nucleation could wipe out life on Earth, I’ll make sure there aren’t any creationists in the audience. I can’t imagine explaining that to the Department of Homeland Security.

I’ve mentioned several times, on this blog and my old one, how much I admire Ian McEwan. For my taste, his writing is some of the finest around, and I particularly love his meticulously crafted, deeply flawed and twisted characters. But it’s not just his fiction of which I’m a fan. McEwan is a clear thinker and advocate for a reason-based view of the world; something I’d admire in anyone, but find particularly notable and refreshing in a literary giant, far removed from the world of science.

In last week’s Guardian, as a tribute to Richard Dawkins, McEwan has a wonderful, beautiful and, ultimately, sobering essay on the idea of nurturing a scientific literary tradition. I have read it three times so far and find myself drawn back to it for multiple reasons.

The essay begins with an explanation of the role of the canon in classical literature, describing some of its greats and the importance of understanding them as a precursor to fully grasping modern literary works. As McEwan puts it

In part, it is a temporal map, a means of negotiating the centuries and the connections between writers. It helps to know that Shakespeare preceded Keats who preceded Wilfred Owen because lines of influence might be traced.

The central question of the essay is whether science writing can provide a parallel to this, and if so, then what precisely might its role be. Here, McEwan’s language is fluid and seductive, making a case that the history of scientific ideas, no matter what their outcomes, provides a crucial tool in shaping modern progress

We need to remember the various discarded toys of science – the humours, the four elements, phlogiston, the ether and, more recently, protoplasm. Modern chemistry was born out of the futile ambitions of alchemy. Scientists who hurl themselves down blind alleys perform a service – they save everyone a great deal of trouble. They may also refine techniques along the way, and offer points of resistance, intellectual cantilevers, to their contemporaries.

I say all this somewhat dutifully, because there actually is a special pleasure to be shared, when a scientist or science writer leads us towards the light of a powerful idea which in turn opens avenues of exploration and discovery leading far into the future, binding many different phenomena in many different fields of study. Some might call this truth.

[...]

But if we understand science merely as a band of light moving through time, advancing on the darkness, and leaving ignorant darkness behind it, always at its best only in the incandescent present, we turn our backs on an epic tale of ingenuity propelled by curiosity.

Isn’t this beautiful? Non-scientists with this kind of thirst for scientific knowledge and an understanding of the thrill of the chase and the nature of the discipline are a gift to us. If they can understand and value what we do while finding beauty, poetry, history and intrigue in it, it gives me, at least, real hope for bringing our message to the public.

After several historical examples of the scientific literary tradition (Voltaire on smallpox inoculations; Anton van Leeuwenhoek on spirogyra; Huxley’s public lecture – “On a Piece of Chalk”; Darwin), McEwan turns to Dawkins.

This year marks the thirtieth anniversary of the publication of Richard Dawkins’ The Selfish Gene. There has never been a science book quite like it. Drawing on the work of a handful of scientists, it bound together genetics and Darwinian natural selection in a creative synthesis that amazed even those few who were already familiar with the concepts. It hastened a sea change in evolutionary theory, it affected profoundly the teaching of biology, it enticed an enthusiastic younger generation into the subject, and spawned a huge literature, and eventually a new discipline – memetics. At the same time, and this is the measure of its achievement, it addressed itself without condescension to the layman. It did so provocatively, and with style.

McEwan makes the case that “The Selfish Gene stood at the beginning of a golden age of science writing” and goes on to add a list of later works to his scientific literary canon. These include some that I’ve read, including a few that are among my all time favorites, and others that were either on my reading list already or, if not, most certainly are now. What I find most impressive is that, behind the central theme of the essay, which itself I find fascinating, it is crystal clear that McEwan has devoted considerable time to educating himself about science, both modern and historical. It is also clear that he considers this to be as essential a part of being educated as any of the other bodies of knowledge that help make him the intellectual that he is. This is an attitude that is so often lacking even in those who are accomplished in other areas (I frequently encounter it among some of my own colleagues) and it brightens my day whenever I come across it.

At the end McEwan becomes practical, and dwells on the concrete role that an appreciation for science, reason and the workings of the natural world has in today’s society. Discussing Dawkins’ well-known attitudes to religion, McEwan eloquently comments

Few of us, I think, in the mid-1970s, when The Selfish Gene was published, would have thought we would be dedicating so much mental space to discussing religious faith in this new century. We thought that since it has nothing useful at all to say about cosmology, the age of the earth, the origin of species, the curing of disease or any other aspect of the physical world, it had retreated finally to where it belongs, to the privacy of individual conscience. We were wrong. A variety of sky-god worshippers with their numerous, mutually exclusive certainties (all of which we must “respect”) appears to be occupying more and more of the space of public discourse. Increasingly, they seem to want to tell us how to live and think, or inflict upon us the strictures they choose to impose upon themselves.

And this is where the essay becomes less of an appeal for a beautiful, important intellectual tradition – that of scientific literature – and more of a rallying cry for rationalism. McEwan understands the dangers of replacing knowledge with orthodoxy and empiricism with faith, and sees, crucially, that it is not only the job of the scientist to battle superstition and nonsense, but that of all educated people. As he concludes

We can take nothing for granted, for totalitarian thinking, religious or political, will always be with us in some form or other. For this reason alone, we should nurture a living scientific literary tradition.

Indeed we should.

I was at a particularly good dinner party on Saturday night over on the West Side. It had a little under a dozen people, from professionals in academia and surrounds (such as relativist Kip Thorne of Caltech, or Legal scholar and writer/broadcaster Jonathan Kirsch) to professionals in entertainment (such as writer/performer Julia Sweeney), and journalism (such as South African Journalist and Activist Zubeida Jaffer) and several other fields…. and a good time was had by all. I only had to explain string theory and the whole of particle physics three times (to three separate groups; and I was glad for the opportunity to do so) so I managed to get some food and wine down. I’m not sure if my biggest moment was convincing the razor-sharp Julia Sweeney that maybe she does not hate string theory quite so much any more, or whether it was just finding ourselves enthusiastically in agreement over public transport issues in LA (i.e., it exists, if only people would use it more! Well, you’ve heard me on this topic a lot…..)…this is a big deal to me since a lot of people never want to talk about this matter. We also spoke a lot about getting more science into the entertainment/media realm as well (you’ve heard me on that topic a lot too) a subject we agreed was worth pursuing…

It turned out that a couple at the party could not use their tickets for the Sunday afternoon concert at the Disney Hall, and they gave them to me. This was rather nice since I’d been thinking that it would have been nice to go to the concert. All I had to do was find someone in the short time available (Sunday morning; concert was at 2:00pm) to take with me to use the extra ticket. This was a challenge (combination of it being a sleep-in day with the time change, and me not being terribly flush with contacts who I can call on for that purpose at short notice…..people my age often come in bound states, and/or they’ve planned to do stuff on the precious Sunday afternoons that you only get once a week) but I succeeded. At 2:00pm, we were in our seats, waiting for the first half:

The concert was the last in the Los Angeles Philharmoic’s “Minimalist Jukebox” series. It was excellent, (although I beg to differ with the “minimalist” moniker for those particular pieces). The whole concert was conducted by John Adams, and the first part was a Phillip Glass piece (or set of pieces; selected scenes from his opera Akhnaten, in fact), while the part after the intermission was John Adams’ own Harmonielehre. It was an afternoon of wonderful music, overall. I particularly loved the opera (even with the rather silly words in places), which was beautifully orchestrated with a small configuration of the orchestra (it was in fuller configuration later for the second piece).

There was a great dramatic effect that the layout of the hall lends itself to very well. A person can stand right in the center of the wonderful explosion of wood that is the Organ (see above photo) and look out onto the assembled audience, and they look rather commanding from up there. Well, they had the actress Holland Taylor go up there, splendidly dressed and dramatically lit, to read the parts of the Narrator. She has a quite commanding voice, and so it worked very well indeed.

Ok, I admit that I did have a silly moment when I could not help but distract myself a bit when I heard things like this:
(more…)

I’ve been a fan of the Either/Orchestra for over ten years now, since first hearing them on a public radio station in Boston. This Cambridge-based jazz ensemble, a “little big band” in the tradition of the Mingus band, is one of my absolute favorite musical groups. (Whether the name is indebted to Kierkegaard is somewhat ambiguous.) Unfortunately, I moved away from Massachusetts soon after discovering their music, so I haven’t had a chance to hear them live. Until, that is, this last Friday, when they played Chicago’s historic Green Mill. Suffice to say, a decade’s worth of expectations were not disappointed.

The singular genius of the E/O is to simultaneously stimulate the pleasure centers of the right brain and left brain in equal measure. They are a ten-piece group at the moment — bass, piano, drums, six horns, and congas. Past configurations have varied, with personnel changing fairly frequently; distinguished alumni include John Medeski. But the spirit of the group has remained constant: sophisticated arrangements of eclectic music, played with an enthusiastic fervor that carries you along for the ride. Each of the band members is an accomplished soloist, and they work together in intricate configurations that certainly appeal to the intellectual side of one’s musical appreciation — but at no time could they be accused of being stuffy. Each song is generally constructed around a catchy hook, whose possibilities are thoroughly explored rhythmically and harmonically. These guys rock, groove, and swing.

The E/O’s repertoire has always been wide-ranging, from original tunes to classics by Monk and Ellington and Miles to quirky covers of pop songs from the Beatles and Dylan to — wait for it — King Crimson. In the last few years they have been heavily influenced by Ethiopian music, culminating in a recent live album from Addis Ababa. One of the songs performed Friday night will give you an idea of a “typical” E/O tune. It was a suite in two parts, both of which were influenced by the Azmari music of Ethiopia. The first movement originated when saxophonist/leader Russ Gershon became intrigued by the massinko, a kind of one-string violin played in Ethiopian clubs. He composed a Western-style string quartet (”of all things”) inspired by this music, with the playful idea of getting classical musicians with incredibly expensive instruments to try their best to sound like cheap one-string violins you might hear in Addis Ababa. He later arranged the quartet for ten-piece jazz ensemble (don’t ask me how you do that), to form the first movement. The second movement came from bass player Rick McLaughlin, who had taken Thelonious Monk’s classic Well You Needn’t and arranged it with a Azmari-style rhythm. And voila — a suite that only the Either/Orchestra could possibly come up with, or for that matter perform. And it was beautiful.

Besides getting the chance to hear the band play live, I finally had the opportunity to meet Russ Gershon, the founder of the group, in person. A few years ago I sent an email to their record label, asking to be put on the mailing list, and was pleasantly suprised to receive a personal reply from Russ himself. In my response I mentioned that he should let me know if he had any questions about cosmology; this led to a few back-and-forth emails, along these lines:

Date: Mon, 10 Sep 2001 13:00:25 -0700
To: Sean Carroll
From: Russ Gershon
Subject: Re:

So the dark matter is not atoms, protons, quarks – it’s something
else? That’s kind of alarming, what with it being 96% of the whole
thing!

Russ
–
Russ Gershon
Accurate Records
288 Norfolk St.
Cambridge MA 02139 USA

Well, yeah, it is kind of alarming, I have to admit. As you might guess from the date, our conversation was derailed by events. Still, jazz musicians with an interest in cosmology should be rewarded, don’t you think? Maybe someday we will get a Dark Energy Suite. So go buy the records already. My first discovery was The Calculus of Pleasure, so I have a soft spot for that one, but they’re all good.

I arrived a bit early to the show to grab a good seat, since the Green Mill is always crowded. Naturally I grabbed some napkins and started writing equations, as one is wont to do — six cocktail napkins were sacrificed, but for a good cause, as I figured out something important about auxilliary scalar fields. The bartender, Jill, noticed my scribblings and asked me what they were about. As it turns out, she is currently taking a class on differential equations, working toward her Master’s degree to someday be a high-school math teacher. And she gave me a free glass of wine to demonstrate solidarity between we equation-oriented types. The guys sitting next to me also noticed, and between sets I ended up explaining dark energy and the accelerating universe to a bunch of jazz fans. See, another good reason to go to grad school in physics — it opens doors in the most unlikely venues.

It wouldn’t feel right if one of us didn’t do a post noting that today is what many people (or at least me and JoAnne, I think) consider the unofficial start of summer – Opening Day of the 2006 Major League Baseball Season. Even better for me, the Cleveland Indians (my team, since I grew to love baseball while living in Cleveland) are playing in the opening game against last year’s World Series winners, the Chicago White Sox.

I’ve had the game on while exercising and doing a little work. I’ve groaned as I saw the Indians’ star starter C.C. Sabathia hurt himself within the first three innings and the White Sox take a 3-0 lead, and I’ve perked up as the Indians came right back and tied the game 3-3 in the top of the 4th inning.

But torrential rain came in just after that, and the game is still in rain delay, so I won’t have time to report on how it ends even if they do eventually resume play.

Nevertheless, as far as I’m concerned – summer is here

Not far from where I do my shopping in the Hollywood Farmer’s market is the Hollywood walk of fame, where various stars of screen, stage, radio, etc are celebrated with a star in the pavement/sidewalk when they rise to a certain level. I never thought I’d see the day when someone would get a star for contributions to the popularisation of science on television (Carl Sagan never got one), but look what I stumbled upon earlier this week (I was so impressed I asked a tourist to take a shot of me):

Brian did do superb work in telling the story of fundamental physics in that series of documentaries on PBS (“The Elegant Universe”, for those of you who’ve not seen them, same name as the best-selling book), and captured the imagination of a whole new generation of viewers. Well deserved.

Yeah, I know that some people who just have it in for string theory are going to be annoyed at this, but please try to keep your eye on the big picture. This is good for science. May it open the door for more recognition of science in mainstream popular culture, which as you know from reading this blog, is a subject dear to my heart.

-cvj