Skeptophilia (skep-to-fil-i-a) (n.) - the love of logical thought, skepticism, and thinking critically. Being an exploration of the applications of skeptical thinking to the world at large, with periodic excursions into linguistics, music, politics, cryptozoology, and why people keep seeing the face of Jesus on grilled cheese sandwiches.

Saturday, December 28, 2019

Prelude to a cataclysm

Dear Readers:

I'm going to be taking a short break next week.  However, I hope you'll continue to send me ideas for new posts -- I'll be back in the saddle again soon, and I always value your suggestions.

The next Skeptophilia post will be Monday, January 6.  A very Happy New Year to all of you, and I hope this century's Roaring Twenties bring you everything you desire!

cheers,

Gordon

*******************************

There'd be nothing like a good supernova to liven things up around here.

Far and away the most spectacular event in the universe, a supernova of a massive star releases more energy in a few seconds than our Sun will release in its entire lifetime.  The colossal explosion is set off by the exhaustion of the fuel in the star's core, a phenomenon that deserves a little more explanation.

Stars are kept in equilibrium by two forces, the outward pressure of the heat produced by fusion in the core, and the inward pull of gravity.  When the star runs out of fuel, the heat diminishes, and gravity wins -- causing a sudden collapse and a phenomenally quick heating of the star's atmosphere.

The result is a supernova, which temporarily outshines everything else in the near vicinity.  Actually, "outshine" is the wrong word; nearby star systems would be flash-fried, and even at a relatively safe distance the high-energy electromagnetic radiation could severely damage a planet's atmosphere.  (Just as a clarification, I'm talking about planets in other star systems; if there were planets in the supernova's system, they'd be instantaneously vaporized.)

The collapsed core of the star then becomes either a neutron star or a black hole, depending on the star's initial mass.  The exploded remnants continue to glow brightly for several months, before finally cooling, fading, and disappearing from the night sky.

As it happens, we've got a good candidate for a supernova not too far away (well, 640 light years away, which isn't exactly next door, but is still close by astronomical standards).  It's called Betelgeuse, and it's the familiar star on Orion's right shoulder.  A red supergiant, the star is about eleven times the mass of the Sun (putting it in the "neutron star" range after it blows itself to smithereens).  However, volume-wise, it's enormous; if you put Betelgeuse where the Sun is, its edge would be somewhere between the orbits of Jupiter and Saturn.

Yes, that's what it sounds like.  If Betelgeuse replaced the Sun, we here on the Earth would be inside the star.

The constellation of Orion; thats's Betelgeuse in the upper left [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Rogelio Bernal Andreo, Orion Head to Toe, CC BY-SA 3.0]

Betelgeuse has long been known as one of the better supernova candidates that are relatively close by.  Asked when it's going to explode, though, astronomers have always played it cagey; could be tomorrow, could be a hundred thousand years from now.  But its recent behavior has made a lot of scientists wonder if the actual date of the explosion might not be closer to the "tomorrow" end of the spectrum than we'd thought.

The star has been exhibiting some odd behavior lately.  It's long been known as a variable star, varying in magnitude between about 0.0 and +0.5 (the bigger the number, the fainter the star).  This means it oscillates between being the fifth brightest star in the night sky and the tenth, with the period of its variation averaging at a little over a year.  But in the last few months, it's defied expectations, dimming to a magnitude of +1.3 and dropping to 23rd place on the list of brightest stars.

Could this herald the beginnings of the collapse that initiates the supernova?  Could be, but the truth is, we don't know.  Supernovae are uncommon events, and nearby ones nearly unheard of -- the last one was "Kepler's Star," the 1604 supernova in the constellation of Ophiuchus.  So what the leadup will look like, we aren't really sure.

What's certain is that this is unprecedented, at least since we've kept detailed records.  It merited a press release from the Villanova University Department of Astronomy three weeks ago, so even the astronomers -- ordinarily the most cautious of scientists -- are admitting that something's up.

Now, we still don't know what's going to happen.  Like I said, we've never been able to observe the events leading up to a supernova before.  But you can bet that the astrophysicists are paying close attention.

And with good reason.  If Betelgeuse went supernova -- no, correction, when Betelgeuse goes supernova -- it's going to be spectacular.  It's estimated it will brighten to a magnitude of -10, which (for reference) is sixteen times the brightness of the full Moon, and over a hundred times the brightness of the planet Venus.  It will be easily visible during the day and will provide enough light to read by at night.  And this won't be a blink-and-you-miss-it occurrence; the supernova will only fade gradually, over a period of eight to nine months, and during that time it will be (other than the Sun itself) the brightest thing in the sky.

And I can say unequivocally that I hope it happens really soon.

It'd be nice to have something happen out there in the universe to take our minds off of how screwed up things are down here, you know?  It'd be a good reminder that there are bigger and more powerful things than we are, and our petty little squabbles are really pretty minuscule by comparison.

So as far as I'm concerned: bring on the supernova.

********************************

As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Friday, December 27, 2019

Canine mathematics

I remember a while back reading an interesting paper that concluded that dogs have a concept of fairness and morality.

There have been a number of studies confirming this, most strikingly an investigation involving border collies.  Pairs of dogs were trained to do a task, then rewarded with doggie biscuits.  The thing was, Dog #1 was rewarded for correctly doing the task with one biscuit, and Dog #2 with two biscuits for doing the same task.

Within a few rounds, Dog #1 refused to cooperate.  "I'm not working for one biscuit when he gets two," seemed to be the logic.  So -- amazing as it seems -- at least some dogs understand fair play, and will forego getting a treat at all if another dog is getting more.

It also implies an understanding of quantity.  Now, "two is more than one" isn't exactly differential calculus, but it does suggest that dogs have at least a rudimentary numeracy.  The evolutionary advantage of a sense of quantity is obvious; if you can do a quick estimate of the number of predators chasing you, or the size of the herd of antelope you're chasing, you have a better sense of your own safety (and such decisions as when to flee, when to attack, when to hide, and so on).

Guinness, either pondering Fermat's Last Theorem or else trying to figure out how to open the kitchen door so he can swipe the cheese on the counter

But how complex dogs' numerical ability is has proven to be rather difficult to study.  Which is why I found a paper last week in Biology Letters so fascinating.

Entitled, "Canine Sense of Quantity: Evidence for Numerical Ratio-Dependent Activation in Parietotemporal Cortex," by Lauren S. Aulet, Veronica C. Chiu, Ashley Prichard, Mark Spivak, Stella F. Lourenco, and Gregory S. Berns, of Emory University, this study showed that when dogs are confronted with stimuli differing only in quantity, they process that information in the same place in their brains that we use when doing numerical approximation.

The authors write:
The approximate number system (ANS), which supports the rapid estimation of quantity, emerges early in human development and is widespread across species.  Neural evidence from both human and non-human primates suggests the parietal cortex as a primary locus of numerical estimation, but it is unclear whether the numerical competencies observed across non-primate species are subserved by similar neural mechanisms.  Moreover, because studies with non-human animals typically involve extensive training, little is known about the spontaneous numerical capacities of non-human animals. To address these questions, we examined the neural underpinnings of number perception using awake canine functional magnetic resonance imaging.  Dogs passively viewed dot arrays that varied in ratio and, critically, received no task-relevant training or exposure prior to testing.  We found evidence of ratio-dependent activation, which is a key feature of the ANS, in canine parietotemporal cortex in the majority of dogs tested.  This finding is suggestive of a neural mechanism for quantity perception that has been conserved across mammalian evolution.
The coolest thing about this study is that they controlled for stimulus area, which was the first thing I thought of when I read about the experimental protocol.  What I mean by this is that if you keep the size of the objects the same, a greater number of them has a greater overall area, so it might be that the dogs were estimating the area taken up by the dots and not the number.  But the researchers cleverly designed the arrays so that although the number of dots varied from screen to screen, the total area they covered was the same.

And, amazing as it sounds, dogs not only had the ability to estimate the quantity of dots quickly and pick the screen with the greatest number, they were apparently doing this with the same part of their brains we use for analogous tasks.

"We went right to the source, observing the dogs' brains, to get a direct understanding of what their neurons were doing when the dogs viewed varying quantities of dots," said study lead author Lauren Aulet, in a press release in Science Daily.  "That allowed us to bypass the weaknesses of previous behavioral studies of dogs and some other species...  Part of the reason that we are able to do calculus and algebra is because we have this fundamental ability for numerosity that we share with other animals.  I'm interested in learning how we evolved that higher math ability and how these skills develop over time in individuals, starting with basic numerosity in infancy."

I wonder, though, how this would work with our dogs.  As I've mentioned before, Lena (our coonhound) has the IQ of a lima bean, and even has a hard time mastering concepts like the fact that the dog in the pond she barks at incessantly is actually her own reflection and not an Evil Underwater Dog Who Has Invaded Her Territory.  Guinness is smarter (not that the bar was set that high), but I don't know how aware of quantity he is.  He's more of an opportunist who will take advantage of any situation that presents itself, be it a single CheezDoodle someone dropped on the floor or (as happened two days ago) a half-pound of expensive French brie that was left unguarded for five minutes on the coffee table.

I doubt he worried about quantity in either case, frankly.

But the Aulet et al. study is fascinating, and clues us in that the origins of numeracy in our brains goes back a long, long way.  The most recent common ancestor between humans and dogs is on the order of eighty million years ago -- predating the extinction of the dinosaurs by fourteen million years -- so that numerical brain area must be at least that old, and is probably shared by most mammalian species.  It's a little humbling to think that a lot of the abilities we humans pride ourselves on are shared, at least on a basic level, with our near relatives.

But now y'all'll have to excuse me, because Lena wants to go outside.  I guess it's time for her to check and see if the Water Dog has returned.  She's a sneaky one, that Water Dog.

********************************

As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Thursday, December 26, 2019

Dancing down from the past

It will come as no great surprise to anyone who knows me that I've struggled to overcome my shyness and inhibitions.

One of the ways this manifested was a reluctance to dance.  Dancing requires a willingness not only to get yourself out there on the dance floor, but to lose your self-consciousness and move to the music.  If you're constantly watching yourself, wondering what others are thinking, you'll never loosen up enough to be able to dance -- and as a result, you will move awkwardly.

Self-fulfilling prophecy, that.

I'd always advocated for throwing caution to the wind and enjoying yourself, simultaneously being unable for some reason to apply that same standard to myself.  But something shifted at the retreat I attended a month ago, about which I have written already.  The first night of the retreat, the leader said that one of the things we were going to be doing a lot of was dancing.  It's a really primal activity, he said, and is amazing for getting you out of your own head.

Well, my first reaction was panic.  The voice in my mind said, loud and clear, "YOU CAN'T DO THIS."  But as I related in my post, I did, and it was an amazing experience.  He was exactly right.  Dancing is freeing and exhilarating in a way very little else is.

Being a biologist, this got me to wondering why.  It involves moving your body, sure, but so do a lot of other things; and I can tell you in no uncertain terms that weed-whacking along the fence is equally physical, but is the opposite of exhilarating.  Music plays into it, of course, but I can also listen to music without that euphoric feeling occurring (although as I've also written about before here at Skeptophilia, I do have a very visceral and emotional reaction to certain music, another phenomenon that seems to have a neurological basis).

But put the two together -- music and movement -- and you have an extremely powerful combination.

Greg Sample and Jennita Russo, of Deyo Dancers [Image licensed under the Creative Commons Barry Goyette from San Luis Obispo, USA, Two dancers, CC BY 2.0]

Why exactly this synergy happens is a matter of conjecture, but what is certain is that it goes back a long way in our evolutionary history.  A paper that came out last week in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, by Yuko Hattori and Masaki Tomonaga of Kyoto University, shows that when chimpanzees are exposed to music, or even rhythmic sounds, they respond with something that looks very much like rudimentary dance.

"I was shocked," Hattori said to Eve Frederick, writing for Science.  "I was not aware that without any training or reward, a chimpanzee would spontaneously engage with the sound."

The authors write:
Music and dance are universal across human culture and have an ancient history.  One characteristic of music is its strong influence on movement.  For example, an auditory beat induces rhythmic movement with positive emotions in humans from early developmental stages.  In this study, we investigated if sound induced spontaneous rhythmic movement in chimpanzees.  Three experiments showed that: 1) an auditory beat induced rhythmic swaying and other rhythmic movements, with larger responses from male chimpanzees than female chimpanzees; 2) random beat as well as regular beat induced rhythmic swaying and beat tempo affected movement periodicity in a chimpanzee in a bipedal posture; and 3) a chimpanzee showed close proximity to the sound source while hearing auditory stimuli.  The finding that male chimpanzees showed a larger response to sound than female chimpanzees was consistent with previous literature about “rain dances” in the wild, where male chimpanzees engage in rhythmic displays when hearing the sound of rain starting...  These results suggest some biological foundation for dancing existed in the common ancestor of humans and chimpanzees ∼6 million years ago.  As such, this study supports the evolutionary origins of musicality.
Of course, this still doesn't answer what its evolutionary significance is; if I had to guess, it probably has to do with social cohesion and pair bonding, much as it does in humans.  But it's absolutely fascinating that the roots of dance go back at least to our last common ancestor with chimps, which would be between six and seven million years ago.

All of which makes me a little sad for what I missed in all those years I was too inhibited to dance.  I'll end with a quote from writer and humorist Dave Barry, which seems apt: "No one cares if you can't dance well.  Get up and dance."

  ********************************

As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Wednesday, December 25, 2019

Remnants of forgotten civilizations

As silly as it can get sometimes, I am a dedicated Doctor Who fanatic.  I'm late to the game -- I only watched my first-ever episode of the long-running series four years ago -- but after that, I went at it with the enthusiasm you only see in the born-again.

The best of the series tackles some pretty deep stuff.  The ugly side of tribalism ("Midnight"), the acknowledgement that some tragedies are unavoidable ("The Fires of Pompeii"), the Butterfly Effect ("Turn Left"), the fact that you can't both "play God" and avoid responsibility ("The Waters of Mars"), and the terrible necessity of personal self-sacrifice ("Silence in the Library").  Plus, the series invented what would be my choice for the single most terrifying, wet-your-pants-inducing alien species ever dreamed up, the Weeping Angels (several episodes, most notably "Blink").

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when Doctor Who got a mention in this month's Scientific American, but it still kinda was.  It came up in a wonderful article by Caleb Scharf called "The Galactic Archipelago," which was about the possibility of intelligent life in the universe (probably very high) and the odd question of why, if that's true, we haven't been visited (Fermi's paradox).  Here at Skeptophilia we've looked at one rather depressing answer to Fermi -- the "Great Filter," the idea that intelligent life is uncommon in the universe either because there are barriers to the formation of life on other worlds, or that once formed, it's likely to get wiped out completely at some point.

It's even more puzzling when you consider the fact that it would be unnecessary for the aliens themselves to visit.  Extraterrestrial life paying a house call to Earth is unlikely considering the vastness of space and the difficulties of fast travel, whatever the amazingly-coiffed Giorgio Tsoukalos (of Ancient Aliens fame) would have you believe.  But Scharf points out that it's much more likely that intelligent aliens would have instead sent out self-replicating robot drones, which not only had some level of intelligence themselves (in terms of avoiding dangers and seeking out raw materials to build new drones), but could take their time hopping from planet to planet and star system to star system.  And because they reproduce, all it would take is one or two civilizations to develop these drones, and given a few million years, you'd expect they'd spread pretty much everywhere in the galaxy.

But, of course, it doesn't seem like that has happened either.

Scharf tells us that there's another possibility than the dismal Great Filter concept, and that's something that's been nicknamed the "Silurian Hypothesis."  Here's where Doctor Who comes in, because as any good Whovian will tell you, the Silurians are a race of intelligent reptilians who were the dominant species on Earth for millions of years, but who long before humans appeared went (mostly) extinct except for a few scattered remnant populations in deep caverns.


Last year, astronomers Gavin Schmidt and Adam Frank, of NASA and the University of Rochester (respectively), considered whether it was possible that an intelligent technological species like the Silurians had existed millions of years ago, and if so, what traces of it we might expect to find in the modern world.  And what Schmidt and Frank found was that if there had been a highly complex, city-building, technology-using species running the Earth, (say) fifty million years ago, what we'd find today as evidence of its existence is very likely to be...

... nothing.

Scharf writes:
[Astrophysicist Michael] Hart's original fact [was] that there is no evidence here on Earth today of extraterrestrial explorers...  Perhaps long, long ago aliens came and went.  A number of scientists have, over the years, discussed the possibility of looking for artifacts that might have been left behind after such visitations of our solar system.  The necessary scope of a complete search is hard to predict, but the situation on Earth alone turns out to be a bit more manageable.  In 2018 another of my colleagues, Gavin Schmidt of NASA's Goddard Institute for Space Studies, together with Adam Frank, produced a critical assessment of whether we could even tell if there had been an earlier industrial civilization on our planet. 
As fantastic as it may seem, Schmidt and Frank argue -- as do most planetary scientists -- that it is actually very easy for time to erase essentially all signs of technological life on Earth.  The only real evidence after a million or more years would boil down to isotopic or chemical stratigraphic anomalies -- odd features such as synthetic molecules, plastics, or radioactive fallout.  Fossil remains and other paleontological markers are so rare and so contingent on special conditions of formation that they might not tell us anything in this case. 
Indeed, modern human urbanization covers only on order of about one percent of the planetary surface, providing a very small target area for any paleontologists in the distant future.  Schmidt and Frank also conclude that nobody has yet performed the necessary experiments to look exhaustively for such nonnatural signatures on Earth.  The bottom line is, if an industrial civilization on the scale of our own had existed a few million years ago, we might not know about it.  That absolutely does not mean one existed; it indicates only that the possibility cannot be rigorously eliminated.
(If you'd like to read Schmidt and Frank's paper, it appeared in the International Journal of Astrobiology and is available here.)

It's a little humbling, isn't it?  All of the massive edifices we've created, the far-more-than Seven Wonders of the World, will very likely be gone without a trace in only a few million years.  A little more cheering is that the same will be true of all the damage we're currently doing to the global ecosystem.  It's not so surprising if you know a little geology; the current arrangement of the continents is only the most recent, and won't be the last the Earth will see.  Because of erosion and natural disasters, not to mention the rather violent clashes that occur when the continents do shift position, it stands to reason that our puny little efforts to change things won't last very long.

Entropy always wins in the end.

The whole thing puts me in mind of one of the first poems I ever read that made a significant impact on me -- Percy Bysshe Shelley's devastating "Ozymandias," which I came across when I was a freshman in high school.  It seems a fitting way to conclude this post.
I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said—Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. . . . Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings;
Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
********************************

As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Tuesday, December 24, 2019

The danger of comfort

There is nothing as dangerous as our attitude that if something isn't bothering us right here and right now, it can effectively be ignored.

It's what is behind the phenomenon that doctors rail against, that if you're feeling good at the moment, there's no reason to have an annual physical.  I say this with a degree of wry amusement because I'm a doctor avoider myself, but at least I acknowledge how foolish that approach is.  There are large numbers of illnesses that if caught early and treated are not really that serious, but if left untreated long enough can kill you.  I was just chatting a couple of days ago with a friend about a mutual acquaintance who had ignored increasingly severe headaches for weeks, and ultimately died of a ruptured cerebral aneurysm that probably would have been operable -- at the age of 41.

Scale that attitude up, and you have our current approach to the global environment.

Every time you look at the news you see more alarm bells about the current state of the natural world.  Just in the last two weeks, we've had the following:
  • A study at the University of Sussex showing that the world's biodiversity is falling far faster than previous models had estimated
  • A paper in Nature with new data about mass loss from the Greenland ice sheet, projecting the displacement of forty million people worldwide from coastal flooding and incursion of seawater in the next eighty years
  • A rather horrifying study from the University of California-San Diego detailing more accurate estimates of microplastics in the ocean -- bits of effectively non-biodegradable debris suspended in seawater, with unknown long-term effects on ecosystems -- and found that the average concentration was 8.3 million pieces of microplastic per cubic meter of water, on the order of six orders of magnitude higher than previous measurements
But here I sit in my comfortable office in rural upstate New York.  It's a clear December morning, the sky is a pristine pale blue, the tilled cornfield across the road dusted with snow.  There are birds at the feeders, a hawk is kiting high overhead, my dogs are snoozing in a patch of sunlight after an early morning's romp.  I have a cup of hot coffee, a fire in the wood stove.

All's well with the world.  Right?

Certainly looks like it is.

[Image licensed under the Creative Commons Pranjal kukreja, Adventure-clouds-environment-672358, CC BY-SA 4.0]

We're geared to respond to how our personal conditions are in the moment, so stories like the ones I mentioned above have a hard time gaining any traction in our consciousness.  I consider myself more environmentally-conscious than a lot of people (and for cryin' in the sink, I just spent the morning researching serious problems with the global ecology) and I still have a hard time feeling viscerally alarmed by it, the way I would if there was a forest fire headed this way or a chemical spill was killing all the fish in my pond or smog was making it impossible to breathe without a filter mask.

There's really no difference, though, between the three problems in the news and the three hypothetical ones I just mentioned -- or if there is, it's a matter of scale.  The three papers I referenced above are orders of magnitude more serious than any of the three local ones I listed.  If a wildfire went out of control and burned my house down, it would be a tragedy for me.  But the three papers I described are disasters in the making that affect not just one person, nor even a single community, but the entire world.

And for most people, they elicit nothing more than a shrug of the shoulders.

It doesn't help, of course, that the current government of the United States is actively involved in perpetuating this attitude, and (worse) spreading scientific misinformation.  For some of the perpetrators it's done with malice aforethought, because of the influence of money from the fossil fuel lobby and others like it, but for some -- like Donald Trump -- it's a combination of the "who cares, I'm doing fine" attitude with outright willful stupidity.  Take, for example, this direct quote from Trump's speech to a Turning Point USA (a conservative student group) rally just two days ago:
I never understood wind.  I know windmills very much, I have studied it better than anybody.  I know it is very expensive.  They are made in China and Germany mostly, very few made here, almost none, but they are manufactured, tremendous — if you are into this — tremendous fumes and gases are spewing into the atmosphere.  You know we have a world, right?  So the world is tiny compared to the universe.  So tremendous, tremendous amount of fumes and everything.  You talk about the carbon footprint, fumes are spewing into the air, right spewing, whether it is China or Germany, is going into the air...  A windmill will kill many bald eagles.  After a certain number, they make you turn the windmill off, that is true.  By the way, they make you turn it off.  And yet, if you killed one, they put you in jail.  That is okay.  But why is it okay for windmills to destroy the bird population?
Watching a video of this speech, it was hard to escape two conclusions: (1) Donald Trump is the single stupidest person ever elected to public office, and (2) the fact that there are still a significant number of supporters of this man's policies, who apparently still think he's the best president ever, makes me despair for the future of the human race.

When I taught Environmental Science, I was up front about my goal -- to widen students' perspective from what's right in front of them, to their homes, to their communities, to their nation, and finally to the entire world.  So much of what we're doing wrong lately -- or failing to do -- is purely because we only care, and act, on what is right before our faces.

So I'm glad that I've got a beautiful morning to enjoy, clean air, a warm and safe place for myself and my family and pets.  But I can't let that lull me into the Panglossian attitude that "all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds."  In the current conditions -- with ecological perils everywhere, and a government that combines complicity and ignorance -- complacency is the deadliest danger of all.

********************************

As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Monday, December 23, 2019

Apocalyptic performance art

I try not to devote too much time to claims that are simply crazy.  After all, wacko claims are a dime a dozen, and some of the delusional folks who make them are more to be pitied than censured.

But every once in a while, along will come a claim that is so bizarre, so inspired, that it rises above the background noise to the point that it almost seems like a work of performance art.  And thus, I think, is the mélange of mishegoss that calls itself Unveiling Them, which was brought to my attention by a loyal reader of Skeptophilia two days ago because one of the predictions of the site is that Jesus's Second Coming is currently scheduled for December 22, 2020, which is exactly one year from yesterday.  (So evidently the quote in Matthew 24 will have to be amended to, "No one knoweth the hour, except this one guy, who hath figured it out somehow.")

At first glance, it seems to be nothing more than an End Times/Book of Revelation site, but it's much more than that.  They only start there, and afterwards, go off into reaches of weirdness the likes of which I haven't seen in a long time.

Viktor Vasnetsov, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse (1887) [Image is in the Public Domain]

Besides the usual Number Of The Beast stuff, we find out that:
  • A mass population die-off is "set to commence now."  Consider yourselves forewarned.
  • Iron is a nutritional toxin; we need copper instead.
  • AB negative is the original human blood type; all of the others arose from mutations within the past five hundred years.
  • The Ebola virus only affects people who are suffering from iron poisoning.  Since all human blood contains hemoglobin, which contains iron, that's kind of... everyone.
  • Contrary to what the census bureau would have you believe, the population of the United States peaked in 1980 and is currently decreasing.
  • There are 14,270,410 Evil Satanic Operatives in the United States right now.  Why is this number relevant?  It's 6.66% of the whole population.  Get it?  666?  (Okay, I know it's only 6.66% if you think the population is way smaller than it actually is.  Just play along, all right?)
  • Baby Boomers are being exterminated in Secret Death Camps.
  • What Jesus actually meant to say was "Do unto others before they have a chance to do unto you."
  • Radiation, including wi-fi, "vibrates your blood proteins" and accelerates aging.
  • Barack Obama lied about his birth certificate, but not in the way the "Truthers" claim.  He wasn't born in Hawaii, but neither was he born in Kenya.  He was born in Alabama in 1916.  So he's 98 years old.
  • Because he's smart enough to consume copper instead of iron, and stays away from wi-fi.
See? I told you this'd be fun.

Of course, there's the warning posted on the website, threatening supernatural vengeance against scoffers like myself, which I reproduce here in toto:
Any attack on the words of these pages (and links) herein, whether it be directly or indirectly, by those whom these words speak of or by their agents or any instrument of theirs, will receive a thousand times what they gave to others, and the plagues and miseries they unleashed upon others, will abound in them.
So I consider myself forewarned as well.  Of course, given that the author of this website has a serious grudge against... well, pretty much everyone, it remains to be seen who would be left un-plagued after all was said and done.  He says that the bad guys who are doomed to destruction include anyone involved in "universities, colleges, foundations, research, corporations, legal system, intelligence organizations/contractors, the churches, media, medicine, police departments, military, all government agencies, school districts, water departments, energy & communications, financial institutions, music/movie industries, sports/entertainment, television/radio, funeral homes/cemeteries, insurance and real estate."  If you exclude all of the aforementioned, who do you have left to Inherit The Kingdom Of God?

The author of the website.  And maybe a handful of scattered peasant-sheepherder types in random locations.  The Lord Of Hosts will more be The Lord Of A Few Guys Who Are Wandering Around Wondering Where Everyone Went.

And there's lots more, which I invite you to peruse.  We apparently will know who the Elect are by their DNA, which is the same as Christ's DNA, which was secretly isolated from the Shroud of Turin.  We are told that the main goal is to "Put an end to violence and bloodshed," but that we are to accomplish this by "Rounding up every man, woman, and child for the abyss prepared for them," which seems a little counterproductive to me if ending violence is your goal.  (I suppose, of course, that if by the end of all of this, there's only seventeen people left on Earth, then it's gonna be de facto a more peaceful planet than it has been for a very long time.)

Anyhow, I'm about done with this, so I'll just leave you to cogitate on all of it.  Me, I 'm going off to prepare myself to be Smitten A Thousandfold By Plagues And Miseries.  You'd think one plague would do it, wouldn't you?  A thousand seems like overkill.

Literally.

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As technology has improved, so has our ability to bring that technology to bear on scientific questions, sometimes in unexpected ways.

In the fascinating new book Archaeology from Space: How the Future Shapes Our Past, archaeologist Sarah Parcak gives a fascinating look at how satellite photography has revolutionized her field.  Using detailed photographs from space, including thousands of recently declassified military surveillance photos, Parcak and her colleagues have located hundreds of exciting new sites that before were completely unknown -- roads, burial sites, fortresses, palaces, tombs, even pyramids.

These advances are giving us a lens into our own distant past, and allowing investigation of inaccessible or dangerous sites from a safe distance -- and at a phenomenal level of detail.  This book is a must-read for any students of history -- or if you'd just like to find out how far we've come from the days of Heinrich Schliemann and the excavation of Troy.

[Note: if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Saturday, December 21, 2019

The meaning of love

There's no denying that as careful as we try to be, language can be ambiguous.  One of the first things I used to do with my Critical Thinking classes was to get them to think about how terms are defined, and how that can change the meaning of what someone says or writes -- sometimes causing serious misunderstandings.  They start with a list of words -- love, evil, truth, beauty, loyalty, jealousy, and so on -- and first try to define them on their own, then for each one, come up with a word that's a synonym but has a differing emotional weight.  Then they compare their answers to their classmates'.

The results are eye-opening.  Not only do the definitions differ wildly, when they try to come up with synonyms, there is a huge variety of suggestions, many of which don't carry the same connotations at all.  For evil I've had students with bad, wrong, hateful, destructive, wicked, immoral, sinister, and despicable -- which themselves carry drastically different meanings.

And that's for just one word.  By the time we're done with the whole exercise, they have a pretty good idea why misunderstandings are so common.

A study that came out yesterday in Science adds a new layer of complication to the situation.  Apparently the connotations of emotionally-laden words differ greatly between languages.  So if you look up how to translate the word love into Latvian, you'll certainly find a corresponding word -- but the associations that a native speaker of Latvian has with the word might differ greatly from yours.

The paper was entitled, "Emotion Semantics Show Both Cultural Variation and Universal Structure," and was the work of a team of linguists, neuroscientists, psychologists, and mathematicians led by Joshua Conrad Jackson of the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill.  What they did was to use a statistical model to create networks of words that had associations with each other, for no less than 2,474 languages from twenty different language families.

The results were fascinating.  The authors write:
[W]e take a new quantitative approach to estimate variability and structure in emotion semantics.  Our approach examines cases of colexification, instances in which multiple concepts are coexpressed by the same word form within a language.  Colexifications are useful for addressing questions about semantic structure because they often arise when two concepts are perceived as conceptually similar.  Persian, for instance, uses the word-form ænduh to express both the concepts of “grief” and “regret,” whereas the Sirkhi dialect of Dargwa uses the word-form dard to express both the concepts of “grief” and “anxiety.”  Persian speakers may therefore understand “grief” as an emotion more similar to “regret,” whereas Dargwa speakers may understand “grief” as more similar to “anxiety.”
It takes long enough to become fluent in a second language; how much longer would it take to understand all of the subtle connotations of words?  Even if you're using the "right word" -- the one a native speaker would use -- you might still misjudge the context unless you had a deep understanding of the culture.

Here are four examples of their linguistic networks:


The most interesting thing I noticed about these maps was the placement of the word anger.  In Austronesian languages, anger connects most strongly to hate; in Austroasiatic languages, to envy; and in Indo-European languages, to anxiety.  I can only imagine the misunderstandings that would occur if a speaker of a language from one of those families was speaking to a speaker of a language from another, and said something as simple as, "I am angry with you."

Another curious example is the familiar Hawaiian word aloha, which is usually translated into English as love.  The researchers found that to a native speaker of Hawaiian, aloha does mean love, but it is strongly connected with a word that is surprising to English speakers; pity.  The meaning of love, which is supposed to transcend all cultural barriers somehow, is apparently not as uniform across languages as one might expect.

The authors conclude thus;
Questions about the meaning of human emotions are age-old, and debate about the nature of emotion persists in scientific literature...  Analyzing these networks sheds light on the cultural and biological evolutionary mechanisms underlying how emotions are ascribed meaning in languages around the world.  Although debates about the relationship between language and conscious experience are notoriously difficult to resolve, our findings also raise the intriguing possibility that emotion experiences vary systematically across cultural groups...  Analyzing the diverse ways that people use language promises to yield insights into human cognition on an unprecedented scale.
And considering how interlinked our societies are across the globe, anything we can do to foster deeper understanding is worth doing.

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This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun, and a perfect holiday gift for anyone you know who (1) is a science buff, and (2) has a sense of humor.  What If?, by Randall Munroe (creator of the brilliant comic strip xkcd) gives scientifically-sound answers to some very interesting hypothetical questions.  What if everyone aimed a laser pointer simultaneously at the same spot on the Moon?  Could you make a jetpack using a bunch of downward-pointing machine guns?  What would happen if everyone on the Earth jumped simultaneously?

Munroe's answers make for fascinating, and often hilarious, reading.  His scientific acumen, which shines through in xkcd, is on full display here, as is his sharp-edged and absurd sense of humor.  It's great reading for anyone who has sat up at night wondering... "what if?"

[Note:  if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Friday, December 20, 2019

Run to the museum

Two recent studies suggest the popular wisdom that if you want to improve your health, mood, and sense of well-being, get out and do stuff, is substantially correct.

The first is (to me) the more impressive study, because it actually looked at the electrical output of the test subjects' brains, so we're seeing at least a hint of the underlying mechanism.  In "Play Sports for a Quieter Brain: Evidence From Division I Collegiate Athletes," which appeared in the journal Sports Health last Monday, a team of neuroscientists at Northwestern University (Evanston, Illinois) found that the FFR (frequency-following response, a measure of neural crosstalk between the parts of the brain responsible for interpreting complex sensory stimuli) was substantially higher in athletes than non-athletes, and increased in both groups after strenuous exercise.

The authors suggest that the higher FFR in athletes occurs because sports in general require focused attention, thus a diminishment of the "neural background noise" all our brains engage in.  The ability to turn down this chatter and devote more energy and brain activity to sensory interpretation could certainly explain how athletes develop their preternaturally fast and accurate reflexes.

It also explains something that I've witnessed more than once, as a fan of Cornell University hockey.  The Cornell students are notorious for their jeers -- um, cheers -- that make fun of the opposing team in any way that is convenient.  In particular, the opposing goalie is ridiculed incessantly (starting, but not ending, with referring to him as a "sieve"), but almost always the goalie is capable of somehow shutting out the roar of insults coming from the student section.  I've always wondered how they did that so effectively -- almost never do the goalies even react, much less try to interact, with the students.  They seem entirely undistracted by it.

But the Sports Health study suggests that a laser-like focus is a neural feature of a lot of athletes, so well-developed that it shows up on an electroencephalogram.  I still wonder, of course, if we're not mistaking correlation for causation -- it could just as easily be that people are attracted to sports because they already have the ability to focus and ignore neural background noise, rather than playing sports causing that ability to develop.

Either way, it's an interesting study, deserving of more research -- especially if it could be demonstrated that engagement in sports improved neural focus, which would give some hope to ordinary mortals like myself who like to run but get distracted if a squirrel farts.


The other study I present with the same qualifier; the convenient conclusion could well be a correlation/causation error.  Still, it's an interesting finding.  In "The Art of Life and Death: 14 Year Follow-Up Analyses of Associations Between Arts Engagement and Mortality in the English Longitudinal Study of Ageing," which appeared this week in the British Medical Journal, researchers at University College of London found that engagement with the arts -- even something like regular museum visits -- was correlated with a lower risk of mortality from all causes, even when they controlled for age, prior health conditions, and socioeconomic status.

The study followed six thousand British citizens, all aged fifty or over, for fifteen years, and the differences in survival rate were not small.  Individuals who were occupied in some way with the arts had a 31% lower mortality rate than those who did not.  The mechanism is uncertain, although there have been other studies that correlated brain activity of all kinds (even doing crossword puzzles or sudoku) with a lower rate of dementia.  The naysayer in my mind, however, feels compelled to point out that it could be that people with conditions that will ultimately prove fatal -- even before they're diagnosed -- might be less compelled to go out and take sketching classes than those who are (unbeknownst to them) facing long-term good health.  Just as in the crossword puzzle studies; there is some indication that horrifying disorders like Alzheimer's start to show in measurable ways far earlier than anyone thought, so it's understandable that someone who is starting the slide into losing his/her cognitive faculties wouldn't be inclined to do a crossword puzzle even if they're not consciously aware yet that the decline has begun.

But still.  It could be the other way around, which is certainly how the popular media is portraying it.  And there's nothing to be lost in buying a year's worth of museum passes, or signing up for that sculpture class you've been considering; just as with the other study I referenced, there's nothing but benefit to joining an intramural soccer league or a running club.  Keeping physically and mentally active certainly improves your quality of life, and even if you won't end up with the focused attention of a Cornell hockey goalie or living to age 103, it's still worth doing.

So I suppose that means that I should get my ass up out of this chair, turn the computer off, and go for a run.  Or work on the clay mask I've been making for the last couple of days.  Either is probably preferable than sitting here immersing myself in the news, which has been my fallback, and is not good for either my mood or my blood pressure lately.

*****************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun, and a perfect holiday gift for anyone you know who (1) is a science buff, and (2) has a sense of humor.  What If?, by Randall Munroe (creator of the brilliant comic strip xkcd) gives scientifically-sound answers to some very interesting hypothetical questions.  What if everyone aimed a laser pointer simultaneously at the same spot on the Moon?  Could you make a jetpack using a bunch of downward-pointing machine guns?  What would happen if everyone on the Earth jumped simultaneously?

Munroe's answers make for fascinating, and often hilarious, reading.  His scientific acumen, which shines through in xkcd, is on full display here, as is his sharp-edged and absurd sense of humor.  It's great reading for anyone who has sat up at night wondering... "what if?"

[Note:  if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]





Thursday, December 19, 2019

Chewing gum and talking about talking

Earlier this week I looked at three cool archaeological discoveries -- cave art in Indonesia, and two finds in Egypt, one of a bone from someone killed in the battle recorded on the Rosetta stone, and the other about a researcher who found that the practice of tattooing has been around for a very long time.

But we're not done with mind-blowing archaeological stories, apparently, because there are two more that I just found out about, and which (if anything) are even cooler than the ones I wrote about Monday.

I learned of the first one from my friend, novelist and blogger Andrew Butters, whose blog Potato Chip Math is a must-read.  In this one, we find out that a team of geneticists have sequenced the DNA of a girl who lived in Denmark 5,700 years ago...

... from a wad of chewing gum.

Well, technically, it was birch sap, but same idea.  They were able to extract her DNA from the gum and sequence her entire genome, which allowed them not only to figure out what ethnic group she was from, but to make a good shot at her appearance.  She had dark skin and hair, they found, and blue eyes.  Here's an artist's reconstruction of what she might have looked like:

[Reconstruction by Tom Björklund]

The authors write:
Analysis of the human reads revealed that the individual whose genome we recovered was female and that she likely had dark skin, dark brown hair and blue eyes.  This combination of physical traits has been previously noted in other European hunter-gatherers, suggesting that this phenotype was widespread in Mesolithic Europe and that the adaptive spread of light skin pigmentation in European populations only occurred later in prehistory.  We also find that she had the alleles associated with lactase non-persistence, which fits with the notion that lactase persistence in adults only evolved fairly recently in Europe, after the introduction of dairy farming with the Neolithic revolution.
The period she lived in was when northern Europe was taken over by people known as the "Funnel Beaker Culture," so named because of their characteristic narrow-based, highly-ornamented pottery:

The 5,200 year old Skarpsalling vessel [Image is licensed under the Creative Commons Nationalmuseet, Skarpsallingkarret DO-9665 original, CC BY-SA 3.0]

"It is amazing to have gotten a complete ancient human genome from anything other than bone,'' said study lead author, evolutionary geneticist Hannes Schroeder, of the University of Copenhagen, in an interview with Science Alert.  "The DNA is so exceptionally well preserved that we were able to recover a complete ancient human genome from the sample… which is particularly significant since, so far, no human remains have been recovered from the site."


The second story goes back a great deal further in time than the little Neolithic Danish girl, though.  In fact, it kind of crosses the line from archaeology into paleontology, because in a paper in Science Advances we find out that the ability to speak might have been around in primates for twenty million years.

The study, led by Louis-Jean Boë of the University of Grenoble, analyzes the mechanics of human speech, in particular how the morphology of the mouth, trachea, and larynx allow for the production of meaningful sound.  It's been thought for years that the advent of speech occurred when our ancestors' larynxes (voice boxes) gradually moved downward, pulling the back of the tongue backward and downward as well and giving the tongue more mobility to shape sounds.  But what Boë's team found was that even if you accept that as the hallmark of speech, it goes a long way further back than we'd realized.

"First, even among primates, laryngeal descent is not uniquely human," Boë and his team write.  "Second, laryngeal descent is not required to produce contrasting patterns in vocalizations.  Third, living non-human primates produce vocalizations with contrasting patterns.  Thus, evidence now overwhelmingly refutes the long-standing laryngeal descent theory, which pushes back 'the dawn of speech' beyond ~200 ka ago to over ~20 Ma ago, a difference of two orders of magnitude."

So that means that at least from a mechanical standpoint, our distant ancestors had the capacity for speech.  Whether their brains were developed enough to say anything particularly interesting is still a matter of conjecture.  But evolution is all about minuscule gains.  Once the upper respiratory tract becomes capable of modulating sounds in a meaningful way, this puts selective pressure on the brain to refine its ability to understand and convey meaning with those sounds -- which puts pressure on the vocal apparatus to become better at producing subtle differences in sounds, and so on and so forth.  Which, as comedian Paula Poundstone notes, may not be entirely a good thing:


Be that as it may, it's a pretty cool discovery.  As I pointed out in Monday's post, it's incredible how much we can infer about our distant ancestors' appearance, culture, and abilities from evidence that would have been a closed book only ten years ago.  Our techniques for carrying out this research are only going to improve, so keep watching the journals -- my sense is that the amazing discoveries in this field have only just begun.

*****************************

This week's Skeptophilia book recommendation is pure fun, and a perfect holiday gift for anyone you know who (1) is a science buff, and (2) has a sense of humor.  What If?, by Randall Munroe (creator of the brilliant comic strip xkcd) gives scientifically-sound answers to some very interesting hypothetical questions.  What if everyone aimed a laser pointer simultaneously at the same spot on the Moon?  Could you make a jetpack using a bunch of downward-pointing machine guns?  What would happen if everyone on the Earth jumped simultaneously?

Munroe's answers make for fascinating, and often hilarious, reading.  His scientific acumen, which shines through in xkcd, is on full display here, as is his sharp-edged and absurd sense of humor.  It's great reading for anyone who has sat up at night wondering... "what if?"

[Note:  if you purchase this book using the image/link below, part of the proceeds goes to support Skeptophilia!]