A ramble about physical sciences, human systems, and governance

Let's first lay down some basic assumptions:

1. The physical environment follows physical laws.
2. Biological systems are affected by the physical environment.
3. Humans are part of the biological systems.
4. Humans can affect the physical environment.
5. Humans create and work within social realities.
6. Human social realities intersect with the physical environment.
7. Humans create social laws that help govern humans' association with the physical environment (i.e., social laws moderate basic assumption #4).
8. Physical laws trump social laws.

If we take each of these statements as true, then we must also take the set of these assumptions to be true as well. Therefore, it follows that:

• Physical laws impact biological systems.
• Physical laws impact human social realities.
• Human social realities impact the physical environment.
• Changes to the physical environment caused by humans will follow physical laws.
• Changes to the physical environment will affect human society.

These deductions -- made by combining different statements from above -- form the basis for a social expectation for ecological and physical sciences. Indeed, just as political scientists, economists, and public policy experts are called upon to determine impacts to governing systems, ecologists and physical scientists need to understand that physical and social systems are interlinked, and not only are they interlinked, but due to increasing technological capability combined with increasing human populations, the degrees of freedom within which to move are becoming evermore diminished.

Understanding that the region-scale physical sciences can provide a lot of insight into the workings of the social world, help anticipate some of the physical impacts of decisions that governments (or other social institutions) make that will affect themselves (or others) in the future is an important step for people to make. There are differences between "advocacy" and "informing" (although the line can often be a thin one), and while advocacy -- through various means -- can be problematic, especially since it often is led by a presumption and not by observation or fact. However, sterile information from a virginal white "honest broker" scientist figure is also problematic when viewed through the light of interconnection between social and physical environment.

Just as we all make decisions based on a lack of perfect information, so, too, we make decisions about governing, and it seems ludicrous to me that there should be a double-standard about moving forward on relatively very good scientific evidence that consistently supports one side -- so long as there is the will and ability to continuously test and determine the principles upon which those decisions were initially made. (You know: do iterative science!)

More rambling on this topic later -- no doubt.

Al Gore and John Warner's Testimony on Climate Change Legislation

One way in which science is being used to steer the debate about politicized events such as climate change is through testimony to congressional committees (or subcommittees). On April 24, 2009, former Vice President Al Gore and former Virginian senator John Warner both testified on topics relating to global warming. Mr. Gore spoke more to the topics of science of climate change (including the "pure science" of the causes and the "applied science" of the impacts), although answered questions as to costs of possible implementation of a cap-and-trade scheme for carbon dioxide. Mr. Warner spoke on the linkage between science and national security. Almost all questions were directed to Mr. Gore and ranged on topics of the economics and science of global warming. (More on this later.)

During his recent testimony to the House of Representatives' House Energy & Commerce Subcommittee, former Vice President Al Gore provided a view point of how the science of global warming, which has become a major political flash point in the past few years. There is evidence from various different sources, such as the League of Conservation Voters and the Pew organization, that the science and politics of global warming (and the proposed legislation to deal with it) has become an issue with a clear partisan split of understanding between Democratic and Republican legislators and voters.

Al Gore presents in his opening remarks that the passage of the legislation by first presenting the ever-growing body of science on the causes together with the environmental and human impacts of global warming, presenting the names of the organizations and journals in which the findings were published - prestigious ones all - before presenting those scientific study's results . This was followed by his social justifications for acting by promoting the shift away from carbon-based energy systems as a opportunity to upgrade infrastructure systems, fund R&D opportunities, and find new "green jobs" for coal miners. He continues by increasing the scope of his statements by including the context to that of a global one by stating that the United States should not have to continue spending money and effort sending troops (an action that is becoming ever-more publicly unpopular) and should be one of the first countries to do serious action on the topic of global warming to once again become a leader - moral and scientific - of the world (a topic that is becoming more popular). He finishes by once again tipping his hat toward funding of a science-justified bill by asking for bipartisan support for the legislation.

Former senator John Warner's (R-Virginia) opening statement also made an interesting framing of science within the global warming debate. Other than making a tangential comment about a news story in the New York Times from April 24, 2009 by Andrew Revkin, which talked about the obfuscation by companies that were major polluters of scientific studies fourteen years ago that spoke to the validity of the impacts of global warming , he left the "facts" to Al Gore. Instead, Warner's points spoke more to the problems of how innovative infrastructure presents new problems, such as water usage requirements for California solar power and land acquisition for installing the next generation "smart grid". He spoke of climate change, energy, and national security were all tied closely together, and that the Congress needs to build any legislation that incorporates all three. He then continued to discuss the linkage between climate change and national security.

In that portion of his testimony, Warner quoted General Gordon Sullivan - the former Chief of Staff of the Army - saying that this message was a critical point of view to understand that climate change/national security link:

"The Cold War was a specter, but climate change in inevitable. If we keep on with business as usual, we will reach a point when some of the word effects are inevitable. Back then, the challenge was to stop a particular action, now the challenge is to inspire a particular action. We have to act if we are to avoid the worst of the effects."

Warner states that there is a lot of fear associated with the issue of climate change. He makes the point that some people are asking the question of whether now - with a major financial crisis and troops fighting overseas - is the right time to address this issue, especially if it is going to cost a lot of money and require national sacrifices. He cites that continued delay of action will only increase the inevitable costs of taking action, and Warner also quoted Admiral Joseph Lopez's statement, "You have a very real change in natural systems that are most likely to happen in regions of the world that are already fertile ground for extremism." To the question of whether now is the right time, he stated simply, "Yes, it is the time."

One could say that Al Gore and John Warner present two different facets of approaching the issue of global warming. Al Gore starts off with his big-guns of science; how the ever-mounting evidence of science should make it more and more obvious that action needs to be taken on this topic. On the other side, John Warner calls upon the long-term national security interests of the country to justify the investment in climate change legislation. Both of these two strands of evidence have historically been used successfully to garner funding from the Congress. However, before the joint testimony of John Warner and Al Gore - two respected former politicians from different parties - the connection between climate change science and national security investments were not placed in such a close testimonial juxtaposition. Indeed, Mr. Warner asked the Subcommittee to bring in members from the defense sector, intelligence community and private sector dealing with defense infrastructure, recognizing the benefit of bringing these other points of view that are critical in having to deal with a future in which climate change is a reality.

Senator Warner made an allusion to the 1990 passage of the amendments to the Clean Air Act in the Senate. He recalled that during that period of time, there was a lot of worry and controversy in the public regarding the possible future of manufacturing in this country as well as the costs of implementing the legislation. He recalled how it was the concerned actions of the committee chairman - calling up each member of the Senate who was wavering - to get that amendment passed. He noted that the passage of the bill forced industry to innovate, and ultimately they survived. This framing plays to the point of view of the policy-science link being kind of evolutionary in nature: new policy creates new "selection pressure" in the private sector, causing an "evolution" of (in this case) scientific innovation to optimize the industry to the new selective pressure; the image of scientific innovation being a linear process.

However, when attacking the science of global warming, most of the attacks came from the Republican party members and were directed at Al Gore. The types of attacks took several forms, including using the "there is no scientific consensus" frame (e.g., Representative Scalise R-LA , Representative Barton R-TX ), stating predictions as "theory" (as opposed to "fact") , stating that science can prove whatever end a politician wants (e.g., Representative Burgess, R-TX), citing the science as alarmist (e.g., Representative Radanovich, R-CA), or trying to directly discredit Al Gore, through claims in his film An Inconvenient Truth (e.g., Representative Barton - TX), and through Mr. Gore's apparent conflict of interests with regard to climate change legislation (e.g. Representative Scalise R-LA , Representative Blackburn R-TN).

The questions from the congress tended to focus on possible impacts of the bill to their local constituencies, whereas the comments that Mr. Gore and Mr. Warner made tended to be national and international in scope. In my opinion, these differences in scope were not sufficiently addressed by either Mr. Gore or Mr. Warner in many of the cases.

Mr. Gore made a statement during his testimony that touched a topic that seems to have a strong resonance with many Americans - their children's and grandchildren's generation. He posited the scenario of what our children and grandchildren would think when, twenty to fifty years down the line, they look at the world they inherit and ask why we - the people of today - chose to listen to the questionable science coming out of corporations and political groups who benefit from the current business-as-usual instead of listening to the global scientific consensus on the science and expected impacts of global warming. In my opinion, this argument suffers from a few problems. First, it falls into the framework of "trust the science", which is - itself - a value that doesn't resonate with those people who have been witness to what is portrayed as a "flip-flopping" of scientific findings in the media or somehow a sinister plot by a global cabal of scientists to change life as we know it. Second, it is a form of Pascal's Wager that seems to swap out "science" for "God" and "future generations" (i.e., our biological eternity) with "eternity." If taken the same conclusion as Pascal's Wager, it can be used as an argument for inaction along a specific line of policy than action along the lines of the given policy. Third, it continues to play into the frame of a "scientific priesthood" that can divine the future. While one might argue that playing this frame when it gets you the desired outcome is what really matters, the argument falls apart quickly when science is shown to not be as great a seer as its proponents claim. Fourth, it portrays an unlikely future scenario of complete non-action vis-à-vis climate change, which is a problem opposite to that of the "scientific priesthood" problem. The assumption of a future with no action - although an effective rhetorical tool - again presents a duality that can easily be refuted after the fact to make ad hominem attacks against the user as being too simplistic or even reactionary. Of course, if people are going to ignore your warnings or voice criticism against you no matter what you say, then I suppose worrying over these points is not necessary or productive.

When asked about whether Mr. Gore supported the bill, even though it did not live up to the science, he stated that he supported the bill, regardless of the shortfalls because it would catalyze future cuts that would be more in line with the science, but did not specify how he envisions this. This statement, though, plays into a linear-type model of how science affects the policy-making process in that it assumes that in the end, "the science will out." If, like in the case with Michigan's Groundwater Conservation Advisory Council, there is a formalized legal mechanism by which the decision-points are reviewed based on the updates to the science, then I think this idea bears merit. However, if not, then it is merely playing to the concept of incremental change, but one that might not be able to change national laws quickly enough to meet the future environmental challenges.

Scientists as Policy Advisers

One of the greatest problems of having scientists serving as policy advisers is that scientists are trained in an area that is NOT policy advising, and unless they are lucky, their advice should not be taken, except with a major grain of salt. Part of this reaction stems from (I believe) mainly two points. First was the age of planning that peaked in the 20th Century, to which many people are still reacting to, and basing their viewpoints on. The second is the understanding that stakeholder engagement is becoming more feasible, even with possibly complex scientific issues.

The first issue (the spectre of the age of planning) is important because it is the major legacy with which we (as members of society in the US) focus our lens on the science adviser. From a 1955 publication entitled Natural Resources and the Political Struggle (Wengert, 1955), the roles of science and planning are outlined thusly:

In the field of resource policy, there has been a pronounced effort to rationalize programs and proposals in scientific terms and to city the authority of science as justification for particular policies. In no other field is the role of the expert more significant for particular policies. In no other field is the role of the expert more significant, and concomitantly the tendency to abdicate private, lay judgment in favor of the specialist more evident.

...

The history of resource policy is the history of science and technology in the service of the nation. The political struggle marking that history has involved scientists and intellectuals whose object largely has been to convert the public and the politician to a recognition of the importance and significance of the results of science. The struggle represents the deliberate attempt of intelligence to subdue and control the environment.

...

Another significant characteristic of the political process in its dealing with resource policy is the extent to which planning has been an important factor in reaching decisions. ... To the question of how the planning job can best be carried out there is and can be no single or simple answer.

Perhaps because resource policy has been intimately related to science and the use of research data and because scientifically trained men have been leaders in the resource policy field, planning techniques have been emphasized as means for identifying resource problems and preparing solutions for them. ... The issue today in the field of resource policy is not whether there shall be planning, but rather who shall plan and to what ends.

I hope this illustrates that planning was considered important in conducting policy advice (usually by people who knew the physical system - the scientist). Taking a quote from John Wilkinson (1964) - apparently mis-attributed to Charles de Gaul - "generals are always fighting the last war, and educators ... are always instructing the last generation." Here I mean that many of those in the policy arena are learning from those who grew up in the paradigm of planning; it colors their viewpoints and attitudes toward the "correct" role of science. (A possibly interesting discussion would be the role of planning in policy and how it differs from science.)

The second point - greater possibility for useful stakeholder engagement - is being proven with increased ability to disseminate technical information (especially those affecting natural resource use/extraction) spatially through the use of GIS and terrain viewing programs, both of which can be altered to show potential policy futures. In areas where visualization in terms of maps and computer wire models are less useful, the various models (both procedural and statistical) underlying most forms of scientific forecasting can be tweaked to produce output that are more amenable to the consumption of different stakeholders. With the understanding that stakeholder engagement is a requisite quality for robust "good" policy, use of science in illustrating the most likely (i.e., conservative estimate) impact of the major factors of interest to each stakeholder can be input to a model. In more sophisticated models, such factors can even be taken synergistically to illustrate the impact of more fine-tuned policy decisions.

Because of the continually growing strength of scientific understandings of how discrete (i.e., disciplinary) systems operate more accurate predictions are able to be made within a single system. This lends itself to being able to plan the impacts of a policy decision within the boundary conditions of that system. However, like a piece of science fiction depicting a possible not-too-distant-future, the change of only one (or a few) variables on an otherwise unchanged world-of-today makes for relatively easy writing, but does not provide a plausible future. Who would have guessed the massive synergistic impact of the internet on the totality of life in the West, including e-mail communication; increasing connection speeds; search engines; increased web page complexity; flash programming; YouTube; online databases; Google Earth; etc. The lesson here is to understand the impacts of synergy on a network of systems.

However, within certain constrained situations, science can still pull together forecasts with variables working in synergy. The requirement, though, with anything in modeling, is how much is constrained and how it is constrained. What this means, though, is that science can still inform planning, but it can now do so through stakeholders or committees including non-scientists as participating members. The role of the expert scientist becomes constrained more to the efficacy, reliability, and accuracy of the model, and not on their "Best Professional Judgment" of a situation, based on their own ingrained bias.

Science still is working in the form of "planning," but it becomes possibly multi-system in analysis, and usable by stakeholders in investigating possible futures based on policy inputs (with the understanding that the constraints and uncertainties are understood by all). By the simple (ha!) process of making the output of a policy scenario legible and accessible to non-experts (and allowing for possibly easy iterations of inputs from stakeholder representatives and outputs from expert scientists), decision makers are empowered by the science, rather than by the scientist. (True, scientists still have opportunities in manipulating the science behind the model - the meta-science - but in a complex system model operated by several different experts, the possibility of having major favorable outcomes without raising suspicion becomes exponentially more difficult, and I'm therefore discounting this possibility, at least for the near future.)

Yes, we have been here before - trusting models to solve our problems, forgetting that models have intrinsic uncertainty and various levels of external validity problems. However, we have also come a long way, being able to work strongly within disciplines to answer those difficult-to-solve problems of yesterday (at least to some extent). We are entering an age (I feel) where thinking of how to integrate knowledge across somewhat arbitrary disciplines (and subdisciplines) is becoming feasible and a new area of scientific interest; just how do you integrate economic factors with social factors, physical environmental factors, ecological factors, etc.

The problem with scientists and language.

This is a topic that I touched on a few months ago, but I thought it would be good to get back to it again. (urgh.)

The topic is how scientists (and engineers) like to increase the precision and accuracy of their statements (when their statements are the written interpretation or verbalization of their painstaking scientific research). However, when these statements mix with the language of everyday life, it comes into contact with the common vernacular, and it becomes easy for the language of the scientist to be misunderstood or twisted to another end.

Even communication between disciplines this happens. One example I will draw upon is the word "diameter." In a common vernacular, most people would mean the distance from one side of a roughly circular object or area to the other ("What is the diameter of the Capitol dome?"). In mathematics, the diameter is defined as being twice the radius, which is itself described as the straight-line distance from the center of a circle to its edge. When talking about modeling hydraulics, the diameter has been used interchangeably with width, especially when talking about pipes or culverts. However, there is another definition of "diameter" which has apparently nothing to do with any of these definitions (which all refer to a specific type of width measurement). This is the use of "diameter" in network theory. Here, the diameter refers to the minimum distance between two nodes. While it may still talk about a specialized idea of "length," it divorced from the idea of "circularity" to which most definitions of "diameter" refer. Without an understanding of this specialized definition of diameter, a discussion of its use in modeling river networks makes for a confusing ride, since one does not know whether the person is initially talking about the width of the river, or its "branchiness".

This example in mind, it becomes even more muddied when talking to people in the "real world." Take, for example, the two differing understandings of the word "THEORY." Conducting a definition search of the work on WordNet Search provides the following three definitions:

1. a well-substantiated explanation of some aspect of the natural world; an organized system of accepted knowledge that applies in a variety of circumstances to explain a specific set of phenomena
2. a tentative insight into the natural world; a concept that is not yet verified but that if true would explain certain facts or phenomena
3. a belief that can guide behavior

The first definition is the one used primarily in science as the definition of "theory", but in the common vernacular is thought of as scientific "laws". The second is normally termed a "hypothesis" in science, but in the common vernacular it is this term that is most often called a theory. The last definition is more akin (imho) to a definition of faith, and I'm going to focus this section of discussion on the implications of the first two definitions.

The first definition of "theory" is complicated by scientists who have decided to elevate certain very well explained theories to "laws". However, a scientific "law" is still a scientific theory, coined as something immutable by either the scientist after whom the law is named, or by the community of scientists that study in the discipline. To the hoi polloi, however, this distinction is filtered through a lens of social understandings of science and law to mean that there must be some sort of progression from being a "theory" to becoming a "law":

theory ==> law

This is exacerbated by textbooks parroting this viewpoint, and extended to include a progression from a lowly hypothesis into (eventually if the hypothesis is close enough to the truth) a law:

hypothesis ==> theory ==> law

However, it is not accurate: the "law of gravity" is a theory. Newton's "Laws of Motion" are actually scientific theories. True, scientific laws are different from theories in that they have withstood the vast test of time and scrutiny. However, they are not immutable.

What the average non-scientist considers a "theory" is similar to what scientists would consider a "hypothesis": the stated assumption of physical cause and effect. However, this is the same thing as a "theory" in everyday use. A police investigator makes "theories" as to how a murder occurred. A lawyer makes a "theory" as to why the defendant made the decisions he made leading up to the murder. Indeed, to be generous, people may well place "scientific theory" at a level somewhere between "everyday theory" (aka "hypothesis") and "scientific law" (aka "tried-and-tested scientific theory"), meaning that - in a science context at least - the word "theory" is something a little more than a mere guess.

However, this muddle of language becomes a major point of contention when dealing with politics in science. The detractors will point to problems with a scientific theory well understood in the scientific community and use scientific uncertainties surrounding the mechanisms around which the system works to try and tear down the original theory. This is like stating that since we do not know how sub-atomic particles work, the Big Bang Theory is incorrect. Or stating that since we do no have evidence of speciation through the process of natural selection, Darwinist evolution is wrong. Or that since winters are still cold, the predictions of global climate change are wrong. To use a non-scientific example, it would be like making the argument that the Holocaust did not happen because the scale was too vast to possibly have occurred. This is is obviously nonsensical and patently false logic: we have overwhelming documentation of the Nazi atrocity; physical evidence of it; experts who study it; and people who lived through it (and its post-War impacts).

The language of science endeavors to be precise, however, the language of society tends to be generalized, especially the English language. Trying to pin down the meanings of what a string of words with a very specific scientific meaning in the context of a social exchange brings with it the problems of language usage on both parties. On the one hand, language flows from a group that tries to conserve the meaning of language to describe a very specific instance or instances, and on the other hand language is received by a group that attempts to assess the general meaning of a phrase. It is no wonder that miscommunication occurs.

Development issues in the US

So… one of the messages from the readings on technology transfer and development is the unapplicability of “Northern” methods of agricultural technology within the “South”. Much of the South’s problems stem from colonial and post-colonial relationships with it and the North. One of the greatest questions I had as a child and traveling around East Asia was why certain methods were deemed to be “gospel” and others merely laughable attempts at order. (And why was order always such a sought-after goal?)

Some of the cultural mindset presented in the reading can easily be seen by the reactions of new transplants in Phoenix, AZ to xeriscape: “Why is everything dead?” With the mindset that a yard (a type of landscape taken from a culture matched with a certain climate) must be a green plot of land, people in the Southwest have produced the most bizarre type of scenery I’ve seen in the country – turgid cacti growing on fertilized and watered monoculture lawns, and probably wonder why their water bills are so high and why their expensive saguaro cacti keep turning spongy and dying. This is akin to what Scott wrote in his chapter:

The logic of beginning with an ideal genotype and then transforming nature to accord with its growing conditions has some predictable consequences. [Farm experiment] extension work essentially becomes the attempt to remake the farmer’s field to suit the genotype. This usually requires the application of nitrogen fertilizer and pesticides, which must be purchased and applied at the right moment. It usually also requires a watering regimen that in many cases only irrigation can possibly satisfy. (pg. 302)

The recent ongoing drought has made more people cognizant of the problems that are occurring, viz. water in their region, and some have taken on the idea of bringing the “native” Arizona to their neighborhood.

Of course, one looks at the near-entirety of US agriculture and you see this form of agriculture, much of it in areas that could arguably be better for not enduring the agricultural demands placed upon it. How is the readings on technology transfer any different when it is massively subsidized by internal governmental forces as compared to subsidized by an external government? How do the rural monuments to high modernism – the high dam, the monocrop agricultural field – affect a local mindset? In Arizona it has created the ability to have (prior to the spread of the cities) citrus groves, and green lawns. It has allowed the continuation of flood irrigation throughout the Southwest. It has produced the food that feeds the nation, all growing in land that is termed the “breadbasket” of the nation. However, if you look at metrics behind the numbers providing this surplus of food, you see a disturbing trend: high levels of groundwater consumption and elevated levels of fertilizer and pesticide application (and leaching) to name two. These have knock-on/peripheral impacts that aren’t felt by those in the region, and by us presently. However, when excess nitrogen fertilizers reach the nitrogen-poor waters of the Gulf of Mexico, they produce anoxic “dead” zones which negatively affects local shrimping and fishing. As groundwater levels drop, the per unit cost of extracting deeper levels increases, cutting into the farmer’s margin. When these resources eventually dry up, then farming will become impossible in these regions. Eventually another source of food will have to be found, or behaviors in production will have to be reconsidered drastically.

The possibility of even contemplating the possibility of using corn (!) to fuel the nation’s transportation needs is an great example of how we have entrained our vision along those of high-modernist constructs (i.e., technologies). It would have been ludicrous to even imagine the possibility of growing a nation’s fuel source. And on paper, it seems like it might be possible. However, this is when the calculations don’t take into account “the externalities.” The saying, “the real world is an externality” proves a point here: fueling the nation on corn ethanol is very potentially more polluting than continuing to use petroleum. The problems lie in the variation across space and time; production energy costs; distribution energy costs; and pollution costs.

What is the appropriate social context of a dam? This seems to be a paradoxical question, since we in the US assume dams as part of our landscape – and in Michigan, a part of the landscape that is usually thought of as being “Western” and “over there.” I would argue that much of the United State’s cultural ideation of “dams” has moved strongly away from the thousands of dams that dot Michigan’s waterways (many of which I have to contend with in fieldwork and research). I wonder even how many University of Michigan students think of Argo Dam or Barton Dam over that of Hoover Dam or even Glen Canyon Dam when the word “dam” is mentioned. However, is Hoover Dam in the “appropriate social context”? Upon examining the social context upon which it was built, a liberalist like myself might say that it was a high-modernist statement of man’s dominion over nature, and triumph over the desert. However, as the big dams grew up around the country, controversy came about as to their use and impacts; the social contexts changed, and people no longer felt it was “good” to put large dams along the Colorado River, especially in the Grand Canyon. Large-scale prostrative kow-towing to high-modernist ideals in the form of NAWAPA were dropped from consideration. Yet, obsolescence of ideology sometimes comes with concrete legacies. The lessons of the big dams of the West come as a package with their looming presence.

The above aren’t discussions of the problems of exporting technologies to developing countries, but examples of our own developing understandings of the problems surrounding the experiments that we have been unwittingly conducting with our own use of high-modernist methods. While we may laugh at the “backward” methods of those farmers producing enough for their own needs with their own local knowledge – the “craft” of farming – we should be cognizant of the experiment our previous generations have left running in the background.

Perceptions of science

"This failure [of climate change science in anticipating social impacts of climate change] strongly reflects the power, and danger, of a science policy dogma that asserts that more scientific understanding must lead to more societal benefit, and thus allows problems rooted in socioeconomics and politics to be redefined as agendas for scientific research."
(Sarewitz, et al. 2004)

Sarawitz et al were writing in 2004 - when the shift in climate policy was happening; a shift from mitigation to adaptation. Now, climate models predict a period of hundreds of years of warming under the most optimistic cases of global climate change. In the summer of 2007, SNRE led a conference called "Confronting Climate Change" where the expected impacts from climate change in various aspects of existence were assessed with behavior change adaptation in mind. There continues to be a sense that mitigation is important, but greater societal good will come out of an intelligent anticipation of climate change. Perhaps in this way science is starting to move in the direction of iterations between social needs and science research.

Sarewitz et al discussed this as "A third possibility [of science policy] would be to extend the notion of science policy itself to give equal weight to the processes of knowledge creation and use."

When I read this part - and the rest of the article, I was like, "OMG! A breath of fresh air." This line of reasoning seems to follow on what Gibbons et al discuss as "Type 2" science, and is a method by which recent groundwater policy was decided in Michigan.

Sidenote: Does this "third possibility" herald a paradigm shift in science practice, science policy, or public perceptions of science?

---
Sarewitz, D., G Foladori, N. Invernizzi, M.S. Garfinkel (2004) "Science Policy in its Social Context" Philosophy Today (Supplement 2004)

Scientists and government - a brief thought.

The syndrome of science as servant extends beyond the special circumstances of advisory duty in the White House. … The long-feared political imperialism of science has never mobilized, let alone gone on the march. Minor forays occur … [but] in appointive posts, …scientists perform as discreet servants of politics. In elective politics, they participate as individual voters, shunning organized efforts under the banner of science. (Greenberg, 2001)

This “syndrome” of advisory scientists as servants that Greenberg points to may be why administrations feel that it is “okay” to doctor statements given by their appointed scientists (those by the last Surgeon General and by government climate scientists come to mind here). Of course, when this comes to light, everyone is shocked that an “objective scientist” would lie to the public. Well, appointees can be asked to lie and even call their statements the truth. When they do (and are caught doing so or resign over it), that person loses credibility in his/her field of science (no one likes a liar), and (depending on the type of lies, and the impact of those lies on the public) eventually credibility amongst the populace. But, for now, this is enough about the recently-seen ramifications of Greenberg’s three statements, and on to the last one.

I wonder if Greenberg’s “organized efforts” are aimed at the efficacy of groups like the American Fisheries Society (AFS), North American Benthological Society (NABS), etc. But these are professional organizations, not politically-minded groups. However, these are organizations made up primarily of scientists within the field in question (it is unlikely that John Q Public would be a member of AFS or NABS, for example). These professional organizations’ power is based on their “objectivity”, not on their social advocacy. If the AFS asked its members to vote for candidate X, it would lose credibility from its members (since many scientists feel that they are intelligent and independent enough to make their own decisions, thank you very much), as well as from outsiders (since members of general society would feel that this would run counter to the objectivity of the scientists).

Groups which are more “boundary” (in terms of the science-policy divide) are what should fill in the void as the “organized efforts” to which Greenberg should be referring. Groups like Americans Association for the Advancement of Science work in the area between scientists and policy makers – acting not as political activists, but as enablers, trying to build a bridge between the two sides (at least that is how I view this construct).

On the other side of this “bridge” are groups like the Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS), the Sierra Club, Greenpeace, and other pro-science activist organizations. (I list environmental science groups only because these are the ones of which I am most aware, and not because I think that only environmental groups are pro-science.) The role of these organizations is to lobby and pressure decision makers. They are not scientific organizations, but do use (and sometimes hire) scientists to do research for them. However, like all other lobbying organization, their raison d’être is not “science” (in the sense of an objective science), but that of influence policy based on a subset of all “science”. These groups are not made up exclusively of scientists, but usually from a mix of scientists and non-scientists. I would even go so far as to hazard a guess that in most cases, scientists that are members of these advocacy organizations did not join them in their capacity as “scientists”, but as a member of society that agrees with the group’s goals. (Duh.)

The book from which this excerpt was taken was published in 2001; before the large “misuses” of a variety of sciences by the George W. Bush presidential administration ranging from doctoring scientific reports to cutting funding for future research in areas that are politically disliked. Since that time, I wonder if the consistent misuse of science by this administration (and its cronies) will lead to the coalescence of voting blocks of scientists in the 2008 election (and if there was one in 2006). Of course, there is little way of knowing whether this hypothetical movement would be a voting behavior that happens to parallel that of advocacy groups (like the UCS), or is a result of the these groups’ actions.

On another level, though, I suspect that Greenberg’s definition of a “scientist” is relegated to that of the physical scientist – the scientist of ‘big science’ – and not the environmental scientist (which, as a group, tends toward having more social advocates), nor of social scientists – this is an underlying criticism of much of what I read about “science” and “scientists” (since I am not a physical scientist, but an environmental scientist). I only bring this up since in most of the physical sciences, there is an apparent disconnect between science and policy advocacy by the vast majority of the field’s scientists (as opposed to the field of environmental science, where the distance between scientists and advocates seems – to me – to be more narrow). If this is the case (and to be repetitive, I think it is), then Greenberg’s implication reads that scientists with memberships in professional scientific organizations (and not to advocacy groups with interests in their field of science) tend to vote as individuals. This is akin to saying that members of the National Basketball Association, vote as individuals (I’m assuming that there is no such thing as an “athlete voting bloc”).

Greenberg, Daniel S. (2001) Science, Money, and Politics: Political Triumph and Ethical Erosion. University of Chicago Press, Chicago.

Notes from Kelves (1995)

The excerpt from this book (readings for class) described a rise in basic physics research in the 1960s and again in the 1980s, and that this matched a similar pattern in the production of PhDs in physics.

I wonder if this was a question of people following money or one of more opportunities for people to enter into universities (thus obtaining PhDs). It is my opinion (completely unsupported) that the number of "nerdy science" types of of people are roughly a consistent proportion of a population. With the democratization of the access to science careers, it wouldn't be surprising that the total number of these inquiring minds increased. This, coupled with increasing specialization and professionalization (requiring higher level degrees to get a job in the field) found in physics of the time, led to a faster-than-expected growth in the number of physics PhDs; a legacy of baby boomers going into university. Maybe this is a reason why so many physics and engineering faculty seem to come from that period... Of course, as I said, this is my own untested conjecture.

-----

The discussion of the development in the 1960s of superconductivity at temperatures above 10K made me ponder the difference between utility and capability. True, with the development of greater superconductor technology, superconductivity (as a concept) became more feasible (i.e., increasing capability), but pursuing the use of superconductivity was still resource-intensive (i.e., low utility). This dichotomy speaks - I feel - to the difference between the theoretical (or barely applied) physicist's motivation against that of a heavily applied environmental scientist's. Namely, the costs of doing research in a small segment of physics was conducted once it was perceived by the practitioners as being feasible to pursue (an example of the concept of feasibility tracking directly with the concept of utility). True, there shouldn't have to be a general 'signing off' on the research requests of scientists (that is the technocrat in me), but having a disconnect between what a set of specialized elite feel is feasible in an internally-perceived fertile area of inquiry seems to me to open up the group in question to criticism from those outside their discipline (especially outside the larger group of 'scientists'); a ratio not in favor of the minority of researchers.

----

High energy physicists were key figures in the nation's strategic defense and science policymaking councils. When they spoke, the American government tended to listen, mainly due to a convoluted piece of logic:

"seemingly impractical research in nuclear physics had led to the decidingly tangible result of the atomic bomb; thus particle physics had to be persued because it might produce a similarly practical surprise."

WHAT? So, just because A1 ended up causing X1, we should fund A2 because we feel that it will produce something as useful as X1? That is the same faulty logic that runs like this: We attacked Afghanistan in response to the attacks on 9/11/2001, and haven't been attacked in our homeland. Attacking Iraq in 2003 has will also also lead to not being attacked in our homeland. Okay, I digress...

Of course there was no evidence that this convoluted piece of logic would play out as intended. There is no evidence that the pursuit of physics over other science was "good" or "bad" in the past. Physics seemed to be a focus of research because the leaders of science policy were physicists. In the game Civilization III, there is a "future weapon" called an ecobomb (or something like that) which reverts an area around it "detonation point" back into a pristine condition; pre-settlement. If biologists had made an such a weapon (or something equally devastatingly analogous to the A-bomb) in WWII, would we have started the pharmaceutical revolution we now see way back in 1950?

Part of the problem with our viewpoint of science in this country was illustrated by a quote from physicist Walter Massey toward the end of the chapter:

"A major trouble ... was that people drew selectively on the past of the science to predict its future, that they started 'with World War II as if there was no science in the world or in America' before then, believing that 'the only standards' available for 'quality of life' are those that prevailed during 'the last forty years.' "

In that vein, I didn't realize that publicly funded physical science's relevance was questioned as far back in US History as the aftermath of the Civil War. However, it makes sense that the apparently esoteric research done by a minority of the perceived intellectual elite would be a target of fiscal conservatives (fearing a high-risk investment) and populists (seeing government subsidies of the rich over the poor). History doesn't quite repeat itself, but it does give out very similar story lines from time to time.

A common galvanizing call for support throughout that history is the justification of science funding because of national pride; science leadership. We wish to be leaders in science, but realize that we cannot be leaders in ALL science. Therefore, we need to choose (either implicitly or explicitly) on which science(s) we shall lead. However, once we do choose one area over another, we are going down the road of specialization, and while science (as a concept) may not proceed linearly, the people doing the science tend to stick around a long time.

By walking down the path of the SSC, the US federal government was (perhaps inadvertently) moving toward specialization. One "proof" of this was the gross difference in the amount of funding given to particle physics as compared to other fields of science: $5,000,000,000 for ~1000 particle physicists compared to ~$40,000 for areas of studies conducted outside this area. A particle physicist of the era might argue that the monetary needs of 'big science' requires a lot of money being spent. While this is true - big science costs big money - the work at issue in my previous statement is 'needs'. If physicists 'need' big science, then that need should transcend nationalism (the credo previously mentioned for continued/increased public funds). If US physicists were unable to bring the SSC adequately to completion in the US, they should cut their losses and step in to fund the more popular/cost-efficient program. Of course, what they did was try to continuously shove through more (and increased) funds for the SSC as the Cold War came to a close, as a recession hit the country, and as other Congresses were elected.

Soon "missing at the national level was what made physics ... so important since World War II - real or imagined service to national security."

In other words, as money spent increased, spendable moneis decreased, voters waited for the promises of the science given over a decade earlier. At the end of the project (1993), the political dynamics of the SSC had become divorced from tional security, and therefore became bait for domestic political attacks.

"Proponents of the SSC are from Texas, Texas, Texas, Texas, and Louisiana, and maybe someone from California. But my colleagues will also notice that the opponents are ... from all across the country." (Rep. Boehlert)

The death of the SSC was not caused by an unenlightened public, nor was it really caused by the ending of the Cold War. It was primarily killed by an unenlightened segment of the physics community that was unable to realign itself with the social and political realities that it faced. The development of the CERN facility in France/Switzerland is a testament to a well-packaged sale of a bill of goods to the relative countries that didn't have to be constantly re-justified at every turn and bouyed up by false (or still-unproven) promises. Harsh, perhaps, but there is a reason why there is no FermiLab counterpart to CERN, and much of it comes down (at the end of the day) to politics, politics, and politics.

Thomas Kuhn and the Structure of Scientific Revolutions: Part II

The discussion of Kuhn in class was a little disappointing. We didn't so much focus on the deeper implications of the work in the course of science, but merely discussed the nature of how some of his thoughts work in a science (of 'today') and policy context.

Questions like, "Do you agree with the assessment that 'normal science' is intrinsically interesting or important, and unable to solve the real pressing problems (since these problems are not the 'puzzles' that 'normal science' considers)? Does this apply to your own work?" and "What are some answers that Kuhn suggests to the assessment of paradigm anomalies, and can you think of others in science or in policy?" and "What does Kuhn say about political and scientific revolutions? What is the 'relevant community' and how do we know who is in it and who is not?" were the three that were specifically focused on.

I didn't feel that these questions were really good for eliciting a high level of ivory-towered discussion. However, they did get the ball rolling on many discussion points and tangents that I did find interesting - such as the discussion of 'relevant community' in the modern sense compared to imagining to whom Kuhn was writing in 1962.

One point I thought was interesting was looking at the emergence of quantum mechanics during the early 20th Century, how it was tied to political dogma, and how both physics and political dogma had to change once it became clear that many aspects of quantum mechanics theory was entering into tangible reality (aka 'the A-bomb'). In brief (and from what I remember of such things from history), the field that became quantum mechanics was deemed as "unworthy" by totalitarian regimes in Europe, due to the (apparently) strong connections with either the Jewish identity (in Nazi Germany) or the perceived non-compatibility of quantum theory with Communist ideology (in Soviet Russia). Since it was deemed an "unworthy" avenue of study in these two countries, it wasn't for a long time that any serious public funding was given to these fields by either country until near the end of WWII (at which point it was too late for both the Nazis and the Soviets). Another example of the problem with dying paradigms and ideological politics was the impacts of Lysenkoism and (similarly) the great fervor leading to the Maoist "Great Leap Forward".

What surprised me the most was that in a room full of PhD scientists from various fields and a few Masters-in-Public-Policy students, NOT ONE [apparently] knew who Lysenko was, or what was the outfall of his ideology-based science policy. Who knew that you could get a degree in any sort of biological or agricultural science, or public health (and there were a few in these fields) and not ever hear of Lysenko? Maybe this is a good thing (for example, making sure that people work in their scientific field only along the accepted paradigms and keeping their noses out of politics), but I don't think so (since people in both policy and science backgrounds need to learn about the problems of assuming that science delivers exactly what some theories - which turn out to be based on a faulty paradigm - predict). Of course we're safe, because this would never happens these days... No. Never. Nuh-uh. Not in this day and age.

I think that a greater discussion could well have happened on the topic of what "science" really "is" and "is not"; how the mathematics-heavy sciences differ from the mathematics-lighter sciences; how social sciences are becoming more "scientific", while changing the paradigm of what constitutes a "science." Of course, all these things are topics that I - as a PhD student about to take prelims with the likely chance of having a question on the definition of science - am interested.

Kuhn, paradigms, rules, and concepts of water

Kuhn makes the point that a scientific discipline does not need a set of articulated rules, even though it works within a paradigm. Moreover, uncovering any rules may be a frustrating and fruitless process for the academic.

In many ways, characterizing the concept of water within a paradigmatic framework is analogous to having rules bounding the definition of the concept of water within a discipline. For example, in your discipline:

• Which water do you account for?
  
• How do you measure water?
• What are the more important characteristics of water that one might try and quantify?
• How can your area of interest (with regard to water) be modeled?
  
• What is a preferred result in a model scenario (assuming that a modeled scenario is preferred)?

Kuhn makes the observation that as paradigms come under question, the importance of rules becomes greater. In an analogous manner, this occurred with regard to the Augusta Ck project on which I worked. Explicit rules of the quantification of different, discipline-important aspects of water emerged (although I don't think we ever "defined" a unified theory of water). Kuhn doesn't make mention of cross-disciplinary work (at least as of chapter VII), but it makes sense to me that one way in which paradigms come under question is in such a setting, and when one works with various scientists, engineers, and other professionals, any (or all) of whom may not have a strong understanding of the origins and implications of their own discipline's central tenets, arriving at a unified goal (let alone an agreed-upon set of rules of procedure) appears (to the insider - me) all the more daunting.

Thomas Kuhn and the Structure of Scientific Revolutions: Part I

I started reading Kuhn's The Structure of Scientific Revolutions the other day, mainly for a class I am currently taking in the Ford School of Public Policy. Having read about Kuhn makes reading his actual (long) essay on the structure of science/scientific revolutions pretty easy-going. I wonder how much of this is goblety-gook for the policy students in the course. (Of course, for the majority of students in the course - scientists and engineers - much of this might be obvious. But then again, maybe not. In any case, the discussion of the concepts of physical science to which Kuhn alludes should not be difficult for them to understand.) So far, my main complaint with Kuhn is that he doesn't get straight to the point, but uses several examples to flesh out his point. In this way, this work is similar to what he writes about in a pre-paradigm period:

"But though this sort of fact-collecting has been essential to the origin of many significant sciences, anyone who examines, for example, Pliny's encyclopedic writings or the Baconian natural histories of the seventeenth century will discover that it produces a morass. One somehow hesitates to call the literature that results scientific. The Baconian "histories" of heat, color, wind, mining, and so on, are filled with information, some of it recondite. But they juxtapose facts what will later prove revealing (e.g., heating by mixture) with others (e.g., the warmth of dung heaps) that will for some time remain too complex to be integrated with theory at all. ... Only very occasionally, as in the cases of ancient statics, dynamics, and geometrical optics, do facts collected with so little guidance from pre-established theory speak with sufficient clarity to permit the emergence of a first paradigm."

I'm not saying that Kuhn's writing is encyclopedic, but he uses so many examples to discuss his point without actually stating directly what his point is.

I like the (apparent) jibes he makes of scientists, as well:

"One of the reasons why normal science seems to progress so rapidly is that its practitioners on problems that only their own lack of ingenuity should keep them from solving."

I start chapter V. More on Kuhn later.

Societies of the future?

According to a recent news article, Japan’s future is not as bleak as some might think. True, the majority of its major cities (Tokyo, Kawasaki, Yokohama, Nagoya, Osaka, and Sapporo) have huge chunks of densely-populated land lying within a 10m rise of the coastline (which is expected to recede dramatically in the next 100 years). This is an issue of sea level rise. Japan also has impacts from hurricanes (aka typhoons) every year or so. With these expected to only grow in size and strength, I would say that the future looks rather bleak.

This brings me to wonder how many people sit down and think about the physical changes that will cause political and social changes in the world of our future. People, that is, other than fiction writers. Do political scientists and policy wonks sit around and wonder what the world will be like after even a one meter rise in sea level? How many people would that cause to become migrants? How many countries would become inhospitable due to aquifer inundations and overland flooding? For one, Bangladesh would certainly become greatly uninhabitable, forcing hundreds of millions of people into a state of social upheaval. This would also be a similar case for much of low-lying India, northern Egypt, as well as coastal China.

Would this lead to a precipitation of military expansionism? After all, much of the fertile lands of a region are located in the floodplains of a country, and many countries have floodplains near their shores. When these become inundated with sea water, it will undoubtedly have a social and economic impact. Who is to say that any country would be able to easily absorb these impacts? Why not invade neighboring countries to take their lands and crops before your own country becomes unable to feed her citizens? It is, after all, a question of being “nice” or survival of your nation.

This brings up the question of whether the use of nuclear weapons remains a viable threat. Since many nations built cities on their agricultural lands, use of nuclear weaponry will only shrink the amount of agriculturally viable lands available to the victor of such a war.

Possibly one thing that will happen will be the movement of cities from fertile areas to non-fertile areas. Since transportation systems have proven their capacity of shipping food from far-flung regions of the world to the cities of the planet, it would make sense that cities no longer need to be located near their food sources. By moving cities (and possibly including industries) to areas marginal agricultural lands, relatively large regions of the country could be returned to producing produce for a hungry and climatically impacted nation. Of course, countries would need to ensure that this radical reorganization of the entire basis of a nation did not rip the fabric of society apart. If the majority of US citizens now ended up living in cities in the mountains of the West or Appalachia, or the deserts of the Southwest, a lot of political power would be stripped from the currently population-dense East to the currently population-sparse arid West.

So going back to the original premise of this whole question: what is going to happen in the future? We as a society or government make plans going out into the future for ten, twenty, fifty, or a hundred years. However, we blindly accept that there will be a future USA (or any other country) to which our legacy will be given. Who could have imagined in 1900 the radical changes that would have happened to the world in the next 100 years (or even the following 50 years)? Why should the future of the world be any different in 2000? We feel more connected with the world, and have established trading relationships with several other nations to help ensure stability; the inter-marriage of royal families that kept the peace in centuries past. However, these marriages proved not to be foolproof as armies of cousin kings marched against each other. Similarly, the commercial marriages may well not prove so stable (that capital is fungible and mobile makes these ‘marriages’ even more shaky in my opinion).

Having played such simulations as the Civilization series of games, it always struck me that a viable option of feeding a nation (once my civilization had moved to the level of having vast roadways and railways) was to shift my major population centers to regions where natural resources were scarce. This alleviated localized pollution impacts (which would negatively affect agriculture), while allowing for population maintenance (usually my populations would reach ridiculously large numbers well before this became a viable option). In my scenario, mountain ranges housed the mega-cities of the future, and the formerly-populous grasslands once again opened up to agriculture and forestry.

Now there is obviously a large difference between Civilization the game, and civilization the reality. For one thing, all the versions I played didn’t have climate change as a disaster that could strike the world. (It did have alien invasions in one add-on version, as well as guerillas that would strike at you from the frost-bitten northlands of your country, which were rather odd things one had to deal with, although you did have the option of turning these random encounters off.) For another thing, the diplomacy and policy buttons were rather crude instruments (about as precise as using a pneumatic hammer to do dentistry) that could suddenly cause a war to start because a trade relation didn’t work out so well. Yet another was that battles and campaigns were affairs that took place somewhere in the background of the game with a random number generator. Still, it is my opinion that these kinks could be worked out, and as the game becomes more complex with the passage of time. Perhaps the next version will include global climate change as a factor in the game. (Ahh, how will the resource-hungry leaders of other nations reply to such a major impact to their countries?)

Although Civilization was an interesting tangent, I still haven’t really gotten to theorize about my original question, which was who sits down and plans out alternative futures? I’m sure people do it in the time frame of 5 years. After all, corporations and governments all come out with their Five Year Plans. However, I wonder how many people consider the Fifty Year Plan. Or the Hundred Year Plan. True, it is really difficult to enact public policy that you will be assured will be around for the next 100 years. However, if the nations of the world today wish to remain the nations of the world tomorrow, especially in the light of the impacts of climate change on the world’s societies, long-term planning needs to be done. The time frame of the “strategic planning” of today needs to stretch further.

Risk Society

Amongst the many interesting points brought up by Gary Was, the scale of the energy demand was something that I hadn’t thought of for some time. The number of nuclear energy plants (i.e., clean energy) needing to come online every year to power growth in the United States alone was mind-blowing. Having considerations for the rest of the world seemed impossibly high.

This is a little ironic, considering that Ulrich Beck discussed many of the issues of scale by pointing out the potential hazards of nuclear technology (amongst other things) in his book Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity. In a more-recent article he stated:

“With the past decisions on nuclear energy and our contemporary decisions on the use of genetic technology, human genetics, nanotechnology, computer sciences and so forth, we set off unpredictable, uncontrollable and incommunicable consequences that endanger life on earth.”[1]

That Beck would flash into my mind while I was watching the presentation was not surprising. However, it is interesting that looking back on what I recall reading of Beck and his arguments, he didn’t discuss the issues of risk surrounding reliance on fossil fuels. This form of energy appears to have become the albatross around the neck of industrialized society; the medallion of progress that we have accepted in place of the possible risks associated with diversification into alternative (possibly risky) energy sources.

The issue of scale – when referring back to Was’ lecture – appeared throughout his talk, and brought to mind two immediate questions:

1) Since he didn’t discuss the issue of changing scale too much, does Was think it central to the issue (and left it out for brevity’s sake) or peripheral (leaving it out for that reason)?

2) How many people recognize the issue as one encompassing different temporal and spatial scales?

As for the first question, I would like to thin the answer lies closer to the former, and that a discussion on issues of scale would be not only off-topic, but rather dull to the majority of people there (quite probably including myself). Further analysis of this question would require being able to get into Was’ head, so I will leave off here.

The second question is (while possibly just as philosophical) more interesting than the first, because it draws upon implications stemming from social constructs as well as biological limitations. Some of the more obvious social constructs that limit our recognition of scale are the “invisible hand” of the market; the overarching social identity (e.g, American individualism or Japanese conformism); and the robustness of nature.

The “invisible hand” of the market is a great “black-box” explanation of all the interactions taking place to get any good (and all its constituent energy and material flows) from its sources to you. If you were to ponder where the fried egg you had this morning actually came from, you might get back to the obvious point of a chicken (unless you get eggs from a different fowl). However, this doesn’t give you any idea about the number of chickens it takes to supply even a single grocery store’s-worth of eggs over a month; the transport network needed to get eggs from farm to packaging to warehousing to your market; and any other myriad connections I cannot even begin to fathom (and all I wanted to do was enjoy my egg!). The almost-flippant tacit semi-acknowledgement of this process in the over-used, dogmatic, and therefore near-useless term “invisible hand” is a convenient way to ignore the network underlying a majority of market transactions.

Overarching social identity is also a great way of cudgeling a nation’s people into thinking between a particular set of blinders. As a person who grew up with expectations of living according to two apparently opposing social identities (US individualism and Japan’s conformism), I realized the presence of these identity pillories early on, and did my best to have an identity of individualism of my own creation. However, I didn’t realize the immense impact an American social identity had on her citizens until returning to the US after living for 14 years abroad. It was amazing to me how people didn’t seem to comprehend things I took for granted. Two examples which stand out in my mind were the implications of countries’ interactions through history and the implications of working within coalitions of different sizes.

I would argue that the idea of the robustness of nature is both a social construct as well as a biological limitation. The robustness of nature operates as a social construct, because although we know that massive engineering projects have changed the face of the planet, we still act as if the planet cannot be broken. They physical enormity of the planet gives us comfort in this way. The time scales over which impacts are fully imprinted on the earth is much longer than our biological ability to fully comprehend, making it a biological limitation. Because of these two sets of blinders, we are unable to comprehend the absolute vastness of environmental (or socio-environmental) impacts: tsunamis, drought, famine, desertification, etc.

Our biological limitation is a limiting factor that we cannot really get past (perhaps genetic engineering at some point in the future can get us over this current high-bar and on to a different level of biological limiations). Our minds can only process so much information; can only comprehend numbers of a certain magnitude; can only grasp the interconnectedness of a frustratingly few variables; etc. Due to these limitations, we came up with simplified explanations and models of the way the world should ideally work; models that ultimately fail when taken to increasing levels of complexity. Because of this exploration of increasing complexity, having computers is a godsend. Of course, computer technology created a new set of new social and technological complexity.

At the end of the day, if we were sit down and try to think about growing levels of complexity (as I have done while thinking about and writing this paper) within any field of our choosing, I vouchsafe that it would be one of the most frustrating mental exercises you could try and attempt to do. It’s frustrating (at least to me) because of the attempt in trying to maintain all the potential outcomes as they grow exponentially, along with the number and quality of connections between each new level of elements.

This discussion of complexity all comes back (of course) to being reminded about how to scale the needs of a growing planet to that which people can grasp. From there we can only wonder what people will do when faced with the enormity of the implications behind the numbers. I suppose a form of Beck’s “risk society” has arrived, and we must face it, complete with our cultural constructs and biological limitations of understanding, as Dylan Thomas wrote, “Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,/And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,/Do not go gentle into that good night.”[2]

---

[1] U. Beck, “The Silence of Words and Political Dynamics in the World Risk Society,” Logos, 1(4) 2002.

[2] Thomas, Dylan (2003) Collected Poems 1934-1953 (London: Phoenix).

Grand Central Observations

The vaulted ceiling of G.C.
Hold the starts in a turquoise embrace.
Aquarius through Cancer
Grace the man-made firmament.

Although of a limited nature,
As compared to limitless night,
The saccharine starts above still dwarf
The giant American standard.

Walkways behind and between glass
Are discovered when a worker walks it;
A mundane addition to the
G.C. observation.

The milling movement of many
Remind me of ants near their hill.
Occasionally one sees a red jacket or green
In amongst the black drab.

Removed from Light on Wall Street and Front

Light streams from the North
With shadow all around.
Courtesy of a skyscraper.

The Old Blarney tenement
Stands as time's testament
To this City's history.

An anonymous tower
Shades fur-wearing women
Trudging back to their work.

This part of the city is removed
From sunshine and light
But for brief building reflections.

Tantalizingly close,
Where Wall Street ends
Lies the sunny river.

So far, though from the hearts
Of the people walking here
That it may as well be
Martian ice?

Greening of S.T. Dana

Gazing out the lab window
Across the gap
And through the other window
Sits Wendy.

Through emptiness
Of that cool gat
That filters downward light
Sit desks in offices.

An empty courtyard
Has become grown over
With soaring infrastructure
Of our second nature.

Back to airy naturalness
Of geen plant-filled gaps,
Soft corners of comfort,
And another tamed wilderness.

-- Can we, dare we, ever return?

21 Jan 2003

Why do I write in such a small journal? Is there a benefit to the reader and grader to squint and squeeze their eyes nearly shut to make out these chicken scratchings? Perhaps not. But for me, the writer, there are a few benefits for using this small journal. First, it is portable, fitting easily into my shirt pocket, making it easily accessible for inspired moments. Second, it is cheap, costing me nothing at all - being something my parents purchased for me at some time when we were living in Japan (notice the English diction printed on the cover*). Finally, the reuse makes any consumption of paper products more efficient; why buy new when I already have a suitable alternative? (This last point makes me wonder about the environmentally friendly aspect of e-mail over the written snail mail...) For these three reasons of accessibility, economy, and environmental efficiency, I ask the reader to please bear the burden of squinting.

[Grader comment: "No problem!"]

*This notebook is well bound with auto matic excellentic machine
makes you demonstrate your and pride.
Get acquainted with it, and you'll start a relationship that will last a lifetime.

21 Jan 2003

An article over the weekend was discussing the possible loss of Rev. King's message, with his icon being used to support and advertise a variety of goods, services, and ideologies. The same can happen to Earth Day. Although there isn't a singe person responsible for Earth Day, the message of environmental concern may be usurped by individuals and individuals within corporations to support what Aldo Leopold (or was it Arne Naess?) called "shallow ecology"? As more companies attempt to pursue "greener" policies, I wonder if previously obvious consumerism will be replaced by insidious consumerism of the "green" corporatism. The only hope one that this will not happen is the visual and written record of the environmental movement. It is the only way we have of relieving a past we were not personally a part of. The lessons we may learn of the consequences of MLK Day may be a helpful lens.

16 Jan 2003

Few buildings even on the North Campus are as dreary as Lorch Hall. I used to say that a university's wealth can be seen in its economics department's opulence. However, in the case of the University of Michigan, I wonder if this really holds true. Although it is a very grand structure, it seems as if built for giants; basketball players would even feel dwarfed walking down the oversized hallways. But it isn't the size itself that is dreary, but the attempts to enliven and modernize the innards of a building that seems to have been designed to revel in the richness of wood, stone, and metal. However, this richness of formed nature is covered with so much manufactured nonsense that what you are left with is not the opulence advertised in the exterior architecture, but a sort of communist inspired triumph of bland. Instead of filling the space with warmth and - admittedly "formed" - nature, hallways are painted painful shades of pastel creams, pistachio, and cappuccino brown. Instead of vaulted stone (or even plastered!) ceilings, there hang the ever-present, and always suffocating ceiling tiles; a painful leftover scar from a cheap retrofit. If the original architect were to see this structure now, what would he say? Would he wish he allowed for future retrofits to his original layout? Would he go stark raving mad? The Dana building is nearing the end of its makeover and green retrofit. Will someone say the same about it as I do about Lorch? Is it really important to use "green" products in a retrofit of the School of Natural Resources? And, really, who decided to use such vertigo-inducing materials for the bathroom stalls?