Thursday, June 14, 2012

The Bay Area's Traffic Apocalypse

Today a funny thing happened. For reasons yet unknown, about 2:15 am a fire broke out--perhaps because of metal theft--in a building under construction in West Oakland. As amazing as it seems, real estate is so precious that new buildings are going up in the shadow of transit tracks, and proximity of this fire damaged the electrified "third rail" of the BART system. The nightmare scenario happened: All trains leading into San Francisco were shut down for the morning.

The BART system was created the 1970s to serve a much smaller population. Since that time, the Bay Area's population has greatly increased, both in numbers and in geographic distribution. The serpentine Washington Metro--which in many ways borrowed ideas from BART--is designed so that one is never more than a brisk walk from a nearby station. But BART runs only in narrow corridors, far away from large population centers, so that commuters must in many cases drive several miles just to fight for a scarce parking space at a BART station. At many stations, all available parking is consumed by 7 am. (This hardly seems designed to encourage people to get out of their cars.) Nonetheless, hundreds of thousands of commuters use this system daily, especially using the transbay tube to get to San Francisco from the East Bay.

Today that route was unexpectedly shut down.




Here are some of the things that resulted:

  • Gridlock. Very quickly, all freeways leading to the Bay Bridge became virtual parking lots. Mornings are often difficult near the snarl of 4 freeways merging into one in the lead-up to the Bay Bridge toll plaza, but those "red" delay today became thick "black"
  • Accidents. In the middle of this snarl, it was inevitable that cars would break down and accidents would happen. A motorcycle accident on the upper deck of the Bay Bridge added to the misery and the delays; cars queued to pay the $5 fine to enter the Bay Bridge sat for many minutes at a time without moving
  • Bus shortages. Buses tried to fill the gap and accommodate commuters. But they filled up so quickly in earlier stops that people waiting to get on a transbay bus found that the buses were jam-packed and didn't even stop. People waited in lines around the block for buses that would not stop
  • Ferries jammed. The ferry system seemed like a good idea to many people--so many, in fact, that the boats were quickly filled, and parking at ferry stations became impossible. 

The reason we should think about these problems is the geology of the Bay Area. Someday soon, certainly within the next thirty years, an earthquake on the Hayward fault will damage BART to such an extent that it will be completely shut down. According to BART experts, the system will be off-line for a minimum of 2-3 years--and perhaps several years longer if the rebuilt BART infrastructure is to upgraded to higher earthquake standards.

In other words, today is but a tiny taste of the future post-quake Bay Area commuting. We are going to lose BART soon, and not for one day but for years.

One of the frustrated commuters interviewed by morning news stations pointed out that the transit system seemed to have no "Plan B." They don't.

There is no Plan B when a major artery such as BART is closed. There are no legions of empty buses and ferries waiting to be pressed into service. There are no extra drivers and pilots at the ready. There is no excess capacity on freeways to handle an instantaneous doubling of the traffic. There are no alternate parking lots for commuters to park in order to use alternate routes. There is no plan at all.

Everything, everywhere is completely overwhelmed on a daily basis by the population crush. The traffic arteries of the Bay Area resemble someone with severe heart blockages; the slightest problem, the slightest strain throws the whole system into crisis.

It didn't have to be this way. The expansion of the Bay Area's population could have been managed and planned in a rational way. We could have avoided the crazy freeway system, which seems designed to produce regular, unnecessary backups (why, for example, does someone wanting to go from Richmond to Fremont have to deal with the same traffic as those trying to get on the Bay Bridge to San Francisco?). But instead we've chosen to spread authority over a Holy Roman Empire of competing, antagonistic jurisdictions who cannot agree on something as simple as whether BART should go to all airports. No one is in charge--and no one can be blamed. And what he have today is the result of this unplanned, undesigned chaos. And one day soon, it's going to be much worse.

Saturday, June 9, 2012

Prometheus, Intelligent Design, and the Fountainhead of All Evil in the World



Let me start by saying how excited I was about Ridley Scott taking the helm at his second venture in the Alien series; the original Alien movie still ranks for me as one of my favorite films. So the idea of Scott giving this a second go--in essence, an opportunity to repeat the magic of the first film--was very intriguing. Scott primed the excitement pump by saying that he would focus on the Space Jockey from the first film, sitting in his navigation chair, with his chest busted out--who was he? Why was he there? Part of the greatness of the original film was showing us glimpses of such things, but not delving too much into what or why; like the characters on their ship, the audience was stumbling around in the dark without easy  answers. So the idea that there might now be answers made me, like many others, obsessively watch the trailers for clues.

Having just seen Prometheus, I can attest that my level of excitement is matched only by the magnitude of my disappointment. It's like that feeling 10 minutes into The Phantom Menace... "But-but, it's the same director! The same universe, the same characters! How could it suck?"

One of the more interesting things about Prometheus is the attention it has received from the community promoting the flavor of creationism known as intelligent design. To wit, here and here. It's rare that any film these days initiates discussions of topics scientific, philosophical, or moral (Avengers and Transformers, anyone?) .

So let's consider how Prometheus might involve ID ideas. [Spoilery from here on...]  The opening of the film shows a protean planet, presumably Earth, on which a solitary humanoid (called an Engineer in Prometheus, but I'm going to stick with the original moniker of Space Jockey) is left behind by a large disk ship (not a U-shaped ship, interestingly) and who immediately, and without apparent hesitation, ingests some painful poison that causes him to disintegrate into strands of DNA. This seems all a bit melodramatic--if he wanted to seed the Earth with genetic material, why not take a quick leak and hop back in the ship?

Later we learn from a sample on the alien planet that this DNA exactly matches human DNA. Which does not make a lot of sense. Human DNA is pretty unique and has been around a long time, picking up various oddities such as the fusion of chromosome 2. We humans have 23 pairs of chromosomes; related hominids have 24. So what happened was sometime after our evolutionary split from other primates, two of our chromosomes fused. They still have 24, but we and our descendants have 23. Chromosome 2 is the largest of our chromosomes, and contains in the middle of it markers that are usually found at the ends of chromosomes; it fits perfectly, in other words, with the hypothesized fused chromosomes.

Did the Space Jockey have his chromosome fused? Did chimps unsplit their chromosome 2 to yield 24 pairs? It doesn't make sense.

Half a billion years after this DNA seeding, archaeologists find a pattern of stars in numerous human civilizations, which the character Elizabeth Shaw imagines is an "invitation" to visit. Hence the circle comes to its conclusion, and the crew of Prometheus meet their makers--in both senses.

This seeding of a nascent planet with DNA is not really an argument for intelligent design; in fact, it is so badly constructed that even by the standards of creationism it does not make sense.

And this raises the issue of what Ridley Scott was trying to say with this. The idea of panspermia is interesting--we do know that microbes are capable of at least limited space travel, as we found out from the critters that survived being on the moon with the Surveyor probe and were brought back alive and healthy by Apollo 12--but it doesn't really address ultimate origins. And if there were some sort of panspermia left behind by enterprising Johnny Appleseed aliens, then what we evolved into several billion years later would be nothing like that original genetic material. Prometheus isn't advocating intelligent design; in fact, it's not really advocating anything intelligent at all.

So what was Ridley Scott on about with this film? There are several religious references, and the main character conspicuously wears a cross. At one point a red shirt character scoffs at that Dr. Shaw's ideas because they might conflict with "Darwinism."

However, Ridley Scott is not subtly evangelizing to moviegoers. In fact, in an interview with Esquire, Scott reported that, "The biggest source of evil is, of course, religion." [Which is going a bit far, really. Even religion cannot explain Carrot Top.]

But what is, then, the root of all evil? What is the fountainhead of all pain and misery and vice and destruction in this world and others?

Clearly, it is Damon Lindelof.

Lindelof was one of the writers of Prometheus. Lindelof has been involved with such masterpieces as Cowboys & Aliens, Nash Bridges, and Avatar. No, not the James Cameron Avatar, but some freaking cartoon. Lindelof's greatest affront, however, is his complicity with the LOST series.

LOST shares many features with Prometheus. A lot of interesting questions... without any satisfying answers. I still feel burned as a LOST fan, burned worse than the ridiculous Starbuck-is-an-angel-because-we-can't-figure-out-another-way ending to BSG. It is clear to me now, after the passage of several years, that I will never get over it. I will never get back the hours I spend watching LOST, thinking it was a "mystery" show, following the normal writing structure of coming up with an ending first, then writing backwards to fill in how we get to the surprise ending. No. No, LOST was a mishmash of spooky scenes assembled by laying rail in front of a speeding train whose chief engineer--Lindelof--had no idea of the ultimate destination, and no concern for how abrupt the final stop would be.

The Sopranos (rightly) never resolved what really happened to The Russian in the Woods from the episode "Pine Barrens." But that didn't matter to the show. In LOST, dozens of major plot lines were left hanging, as Lindelof thumbed his nose at duped viewers as he made his way to the bank.

Prometheus does the same thing. Sets up a lot of questions to which we want answers, then ends by refusing to answer them as the heroine Shaw, inexplicably, seems to dash off into the universe in search for further questions.

We're left with glaring plot holes. The first characters to die are left behind in the U ship, yet when their fellow extravehicular shipmates return to their vehicles, they report that one is missing, and the missing two must have taken it. If they didn't move the vehicle, who did?

 If Prometheus should have done one thing, it might have explained what happened to the Space Jockey in the U ship, who clearly had had a chest buster come out of his right side. Yet in Prometheus, our inexplicably hostile Space Jockey gets chest busted in the middle of his chest on another ship entirely. What is poor Ripley going to find a few decades later, an empty navigation chair?

Another hole involves the hostility of the Space Jockeys towards humans. Why would a race that seeded the galaxy with their DNA suddenly change gears and created a network of biological weapons to eliminate their progeny? It just doesn't make any sense....

----

Okay, now that I've got all that off my chest, there is room for praise for a number of the actors. Noomi Rapace rocked in a very physical, very demanding role. Just as she did in the original Dragon Tattoo movies, she owned the screen and was the most interesting thing happening. But Charlize Theron was also icily brilliant and inscrutible. Michael Fassenbender shows a great range of skill and command of the screen. And Idris Elba--the amazing Stringer Bell of The Wire--played a very sympathetic character who, quite heroically, literally sacrifices himself to save all of humanity. Supposedly Scott takes a very hands-off approach to directing his actors, giving them wide berth to flesh out the character as they see fit while Scott worries about the lighting and framing. This may explain why these great actors were able to rise to their roles, even as the plot they could not control fell apart around them.

Rapace's auto-surgery scene was the highlight of the film and was somewhat difficult to watch. I'm sure Scott, at some point in the past decades, wondered--"Hey, if you found out you were carrying one of these alien critters in your gut, could you save yourself by cutting it out in time?" Hence, the scene. Pretty gruesome.

But this scene stands out in having some actual drama in a film that is mostly people talking to each other in rather non-dramatic, no-tension situations. I didn't expect the Alien prequel to have a lot in common with The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. The only fear Prometheus left me with was of a possible sequel.

Monday, June 4, 2012

Outlawing sea-level rise?

A new bill in North Carolina (http://www.care2.com/causes/nc-ignores-science-tries-to-make-sea-level-rise-illegal.html) takes science denial to a new level--or rather, a new low. HB 819 (http://www.nccoast.org/uploads/documents/CRO/2012-5/SLR-bill.pdf) restricts which state scientists may address sea level change and restricts the methods state scientists may use in determining such future sea level rise.


Section A announces that:

(a) No State agency, board, commission, institution, or other public entity thereof shall adopt any rule, policy, or planning guideline addressing sea-level rise, unless authorized to do do under this Article.
Are geology professors at a public university considered part of a "public entity"? Then conceivably, they could violate the law by discussing guidelines to address sea level rise. 

Section E is even more onerous: 
(e) The Division of Coastal Management shall be the only State agency authorized to develop rates of sea-level rise and shall do so only at the request of the Commission. These rates shall only be determined using historical data, and these data shall be limited to the time period following the year 1900. Rates of sea-level rise may be extrapolated linearly to estimate future rates of rise but shall not include scenarios of accelerated rates of sea-level rise. 
"Historical data" is a strange limitation to the methods scientists use. What HB 819 attempts to do here is banish computer modeling, which is one of the effective tools scientists have to understand and predict what may happen in the future.

To see why this is so silly, imagine that a bill on airline safety restricted aeronautical engineers to using only "historical data" to assess airplane safety. New plane designs are often tested using computer modeling; this technique is very useful to engineers. But now this new anti-modeling law forbids engineers from using computer to assess safety; they can only rely on past accidents. However, those past accidents involve old designs that may not be relevant to the modern issues. 

This is the dilemma here for climate scientists; the historical record involves climate in a cooler world, with far less CO2 than today, and hence the past may not necessarily be an indicator of future climate behavior. 

Even worse are the restrictions on using data only after the year 1900. Why 1900? Well, for one thing, this cuts out a much longer record over geologic time. In general, the more data you can assemble, the better you can judge what is happening. The decades after 1900 are a small snapshot of processes that occur over much longer time periods. What we really want to use are data sets such as the Vostok ice core data--but HB 819 artificially forbids such data. 

Stranger still, HB 819 forbids scientists from using "scenarios of accelerated rates of sea-level rise." Why? This is a bizarre restriction that usurps the judgment of professional scientist with the political machinations of politicians. This gross example of science denialism is a glimpse into an alternate reality where scientific truth can be manifested by legislation. 



Tuesday, January 31, 2012

University Sues Artist

There is not much good to say about quasi-professional college football scene at large institutions. For most colleges, it represents a tremendous expenditure of scarce resources for trivial entertainment unrelated to the academic mission. The University of California at Berkeley, for example, recently gave a $30 million "gift" to its football team, in the midst of record-breaking budget shortfall and double-digit tuition increases.

This subsidy is a flimsy sham designed to allow pre-NFL players to train, at public expense, for a private media industry which will then reap obscene profits from their prematurely-ruined bodies. Th NFL could, like professional baseball, draw from farm teams they support, without having universities foot the bill for training their private employees.

Basing scholarships on athletic talent and body shape is about having the right genes, rather than the right study habits. Admissions policies giving preference to students who play a particular sport makes about as much sense as admitting students on the basis of hair color.

And notice, I'm not even bringing up the well-publicized official "turning a blind eye" regarding a child-rapist/coach at a certain college.

As if the college football scene couldn't get worse, the New York Times now reports that the University of Alabama is suing an artist, Daniel Moore, who creates paintings based on the University of Alabama football team. Mind you, he's not selling photographs--that would be legally different, as teams certainly have the right to control photographic representations, just as they do over other merchandise.

But here we're talking about paintings. Such pictorial representations, as interpreted by an artist, have traditionally been the product of the artist's mind. By asserting that they retain legal control over an artist's interpretation of football-related events, the University of Alabama is crossing a dark line into controlling the thoughts of artists.

Imagine a world where corporate entities could dictate what artists may or may not paint. What would stop Halliburton, say, from staking a patent on the representation of sunsets, and then requiring artists who painted a sunset to pay a licensing fee? What would stop the Koch brothers from patenting the idea of a nude figure, and then sending threatening cease & desist letters to artists who painted nudes? The principle is the same: the Univ. of Alabama insists it can control even the idea of a football game.

Let's hope the courts laugh this one out in favor of the artist.



Thursday, January 26, 2012

Red Rock

Sitting in San Francisco Bay, just south of the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, is a distinctive chunk of red radiolarian chert called Red Rock. I've sailed around this for years, admiring its geologic features, including some interesting chert banding and caves on the west side. Islands such as Red Rock reflect a deeper truth that the bay is, in fact, a recently flooded valley filled with a number of high peaks, some of which are submerged and some of which are above sea level. Red Rock is the only island that appears to be made primarily of radiolarian chert, and it is the only privately-owned island in San Francisco Bay,

Now, however, it is for sale.

With a price tag of only $9 million, I'm sure that some gentle reader will consider buying this for your intrepid geologist. I have thought often, as I sail near it, how fun it would be kayak there and have lunch atop its wind-blasted, 172 foot-high summit. Indeed, I have seen people lounging on its shores from time to time. It would be lovely to seal the shoreline, install "lasers" deep within its core, and use it to plot my nefarious schemes....

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

the Great Unconformity

This post about the Great Unconformity is really well written:

Blacktail Canyon is a very special spot on Earth. You can put your hand on a 1.2 Ga gap in time, ages and ages of rocks that are just... gone.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

2012 Woo Begins. Part 1: the "Leap of Faith"

Today, 21 December 2011, is exactly one year from the end of the earth. Or at least that is what many woo practitioners would have you believe.

The 2012 End of the World phenomenon is just getting into high gear, and we in the skeptical community can expect to be amazed by what will transpire over the next 365 days, as bad craziness seeps into the mainstream media, and even well-adjusted people begin to worry.

This has been building for a while. For years David Morrison of NASA has been answering a flood of strange citizen fears about 2012 and "Niburu." Morrison does a spot-on job of explaining why this is all nonsense here.

One particularly unique manifestation of this end of the world paranoia is is the "2012 Leap of Faith" promulgated by Sedona, AZ, lawyer Peter Gerston. Gerston, well known for UFO-related legal filings against the government, makes the startling promise that he will leap off a prominent cliff near Sedona on 21 December 2012 at exactly 4:11 am.

Under normal condition, such a leap would result in death. But Gerston claims that instead his leap will rescue humanity when a galactic portal opens. Citing evidence as varied as the third Indiana Jones movie and Steve Martin's movie Leap of Faith, Gerston argues that he will not perish in this fall.

Although he isn't directly asking for additional jumping volunteers, his "invitation" page clearly says, "Your presence is requested to witness this event." An invitation to a suicide surely takes the cake for strangeness. But there is the danger that even if Gerston, at the last minute, finds some reason not to jump to his death, other individuals may be inspired by his Leap of Faith and themselves commit suicide.

This is the problem with woo. Some practitioners may actually believe what they say, others may be simply be in it to make money from the gullible... but in the end, what matters is that third parties change their behavior in ways that hurt them, whether that is stopping chemotherapy while expecting crystals to heal you or giving away one's life savings to fund billboards to encourage others to donate. Woo--all of it--is a health hazard.

Monday, November 21, 2011

hooray!

It's not every day you see an article about the use of isotopes in environmental tracing (a topic I happen to love), but today's NYT had this:


This job does a good job of explaining just how geologists think about groundwater movement measurement using isotopic tracers. Gee, actual science news in a mass media outlet? Who wudda thunk?

Saturday, November 12, 2011

misusing science on the phantom LA subway

An interesting AP article--"Beverly Hills bids to halt subway tunnel at school"--discusses recent stirrings toward expanding Los Angeles's inadequate subway system. This article does a good job of summarizing the myriad reasons why LA's people-moving system--and we can think of cars and subways and pedestrian walkways as all part of one large circulatory system--is so deeply broken.

To wit, people seem afraid that the proposed expansion, in a path under Beverly Hills High Schools, would:
--shake their houses
--risk the tunnel's collapse
--risk a methane explosion

But earthquakes are a big focus of their fears, with some subway advocates declaring, "It would be dangerous to have it under the school--God forbid, if we had an earthquake."

Well, LA is going to have earthquakes. Large earthquakes. There are few things in the world as certain as the continued seismic activity in California. But subways survive pretty well in quakes; in 1989, the Bay Area's BART system was largely unaffected. Where BART may be affected in the future are those points where the BART system connects to the land--elevated sections of track, hoisted up into the air on pillars placed on poor soil; the tunnels themselves will likely be fine (with the exception of one section that directly crosses the Hayward Fault). But the LA project is going to be entirely underground, making the "egg-shell" curvature of tunnels something that will reinforce their strength.

In any event, the unscientific approach of subway critics is shown by their insistence that things would be okay if only the subway were moved slightly away, toward the area of the Santa Monica Boulevard. Just not near their houses.

This is geologically ridiculous. What LA faces most acutely is shaking from blind thrust faults, which riddle the subsurface of the LA basin like cracks on a broken car windshield. Moving a location a few hundred meters one way or another will make virtually zero difference in shaking intensity.

The situation here is not analogous to the Hayward fault area, where a few hundred meters could make a difference between houses sitting directly on the fault being torn apart by the expected 2 meters of movement, while those some distance away might "only" come off their foundations. Thrust faults, by contrast, often do not cause surface disruption; the shaking is the prime danger, and a big quake will ring the entire LA basin like a bell hit with a hammer.

So in short, once again misunderstandings of geology are being used to promulgate non-rational ideas. Many great cities have great transit systems--London, NY, DC. These system move people efficiently and swiftly, and don't shake the ground or cause methane to explode as trains pass. If one wants to oppose public transit because one doesn't want "those people" in one's neighborhood, fine--be honest and explicit with those sentiments. But don't misuse science in the service of such ideas.

Sunday, October 16, 2011

What’s Wrong with Scientific Presentations

I’ve just finished attending the 2011 Geological Society of America meeting in Minneapolis, which means that in addition to giving a couple of talks about creationism in science education, I’ve sat through scores and scores of technical presentations by other scientists. While many of these talks were very well done, quite a number suffered from a set of similar mistakes that severely detracted from the speaker’s ability to get his or her points across.

It might therefore be worthwhile to consider some of the ways that scientific presentations fail to communicate, and how they could be better crafted for a conference such as GSA. Of course, I pontificate with this unrequested advice without hope that anything will ever change; because the majority of presentations repeat these errors, there is something deeper going on here, some mysterious magnetic force of obfuscation pulling presenters toward ineffective communication and away from talks that are clear, cogent, and concise.

Here, in my opinion, are some ways scientific talks could be made more effective.

Introduce yourself.
It sounds basic, but in almost no cases did I observe speakers taking a moment to say their name, their university affiliation, and what they do. Something as simple as, “Howdy, I’m Kilgore Trout, and I work on cephalopod paleontology at Miskatonic University” could work wonders toward helping the audience understand just who is talking to them. In most cases, I’m lost a minute into the presentation; I don’t remember who this person is, I don’t understand what he or she does, and I’m certainly lost as to the topic he or she is going to talk about.

State the main point. Repeat the main point at the end.
I can’t emphasize enough that scientific presentations tend to be detail-rich but context-poor. Many presentations begin with a long recitation of data in a table. The audience is left wondering, “What does this mean? What is this about? Why should I care?” Such questions are never answered. There’s just this continuous stream of data without any context. Audiences need the big picture, right up front.

If I were talking to the presenters one-on-one, I would stop them and ask, “Hey, hold on! Give it to me all in just one sentence.” This sort of big picture sentence is key in other industries. Movie pitches come in various lengths, including the “elevator pitch” that is a one or two sentence shot during a very brief social interaction, such as sharing an elevator ride. Scientists need to use more elevator pitches to communicate what they do.

A good presentation should start off with a sentence that explains what it’s all about. And don’t fear repeating this sentence. This is about the big picture--we need the big picture. In fact, the big picture may be the only thing that most audience members take away from a talk; they cannot, of course, absorb tables of numbers flashing by, but they might remember a major point--if

that point were ever articulated.

Lose the blue background with yellow text.
Too many slides are blue with yellow text; it's become a visual cliche. If I had my way, the option for a blue background would permanently disabled from all copies of PowerPoint (with the possible exception of UC Berkeley-related presentations. Go Bears!).

I do not know why blue is such a prevalent color in our society. People wear blue shirts; people wear blue jeans. The sky is blue; Miles Davis was kind of blue. Everywhere we are awash in blue, blue, blue. Enough with the blue already! Let’s have one thing in this world that isn’t frakking blue!
A significant percentage of the talks I've seen have one of these two backgrounds:









Both are distracting and over-used. Having a bad background to your talk is like trying to give your talk in a whisper while a hyperactive child is moving in front of your podium; no one is going to hear what you say with all that cranky business going on.

A white background with black text is perfectly acceptable; a white background with grey text looks pretty cool and Apple-like. Or a subtle textured background, like paper, with a faint three-dimensionality to it, can be very soothing to the eyes. Steve Jobs favored grey gradients for his presentations. All of these backgrounds work--just please stop making your background monotone blue with yellow text. There are other colors in the EMR spectrum.

Make the pictures bigger.
Almost every picture in the presentations I saw at GSA this year--and for that matter, at every scientific conference I’ve ever attended--was way too small. I think this “small picture syndrome” derives in a McLuhanesque way from the technology we use to construct presentations. People sit a foot or a foot and half from their computer screens; from their perspective at the keyboard, the details of the picture look fine. But for someone seeing the picture for the first time, it’s too small and becomes confusing. The audience leans forward in their seats trying to see what the picture shows. No one can really make it out. Then the slide changes and the process repeats, until the end of the talk. No one has really understood what the pictures were trying to show.

People also try to cram three or four pictures on every slide. Making a presentation is not a contest to maximize space; in fact, having open, unused space is preferable. Don’t crowd every slide; give the talk breathing room.

What makes the most sense of all is to use one picture per slide, with the picture taking up all the screen space. If you think a picture is important enough to put in your talk to other scientists, then blow it up big enough so they can actually see it. If it’s small enough to be ignored, then it’s unimportant enough to omit.

Another good strategy is to take a “detail” of a picture. This is what art books do; they show the whole picture, then follow with pages of details to help the reader see what’s going on in the painting. If you have a graphic taking up a lot of space, but you want to show a small sliver of it more detail, then making a transition slide that magnifies that sliver is a great idea, especially if you then drop back down to the original size to give context.

Make the figures bigger.
This is a general failing. I can’t remember how many times this year I saw speakers turn to a slide that had some figure on it, then apologize by saying, “You can’t probably can’t read this, but it says…” Urgh. If the audience can’t read it, why put it up at all? If the figure was so trivial that the audience did not need to see it, why waste time putting it up at all? If the figure was vital, why not make sure that people could actually see it?

I understand why this happens. People are dragging and dropping figures they’ve used in papers. They don’t want to remake the diagram. But it’s easy to remake your diagram in a way that will more clearly show what you’re talking about. Consider that for every major figure you have, you should make a “journal diagram” that will go with the submitted paper, and a simplified “presentation diagram” that is appropriate for slides.

Make the text bigger.
As with the size problem for graphics, most people make their presentation with their computer screens right up in their face. When it comes to the presentation, the font size that seemed right on their screens is now too small in the auditorium, and no one can read the slide.

It’s a typical fault. The solution is to grit one’s teeth and bump up all the font sizes larger than you think they need to be. I know that it looks wrong on the screen a few inches from your face, but when it’s projected on a screen a hundred feet from the audience, it will look fine.

Also, a note about PowerPoint: Microsoft likes to make fonts change size as you add more to a text box, and this can be gruesomely fatal to the look of your presentation. You need to turn this feature off and use only one font at one standard size throughout your presentations. Some may say, “Steve, I need to put more words there than will fit at that big font size.” To which I respond, “No. No, you don’t. You’re giving a talk, not writing a book. Use a word or two to prompt you, but speak the talk, rather than read the talk.” This point segues me to...

Don’t read slides word for word.
This is an embarrassingly-frequent problem. So many presentations consist of nothing more than the speaker reading, word-for-word, lengthy text. I know why people do this: they’re nervous they won’t know what to say, so they write everything out, word-for-word. Overcome your fear and learn to give a presentation.

This problem speaks to the need for required speech courses as part of everyone’s undergraduate curriculum. In my required speech course at Suisun Community College, I remember that the instructor spread consternation among the class when she announced that most of the talks would have to be done without notes of any kind, just speaking from memory. This is useful, and every college student should be forced to learn how to do it. The crutch of notes makes many presentations unlistenable.

In an ideal presentation, each slide would contain just one or two prompt words, perhaps to give the audience the spelling of an unusual word. But the screen would be filled with a large graphic that will capture their eyes. The speaker’s job is to use the laser pointer to explain what the graphic is showing. Every slide needs to have a graphic; however, in many presentations, it’s just blocks of text, one block after another, all of it read out loud by the speaker.

Because by necessity I can, like many academics, speed read, it takes me only a few seconds to scan a slide full of text. By the time the speaker has spoken the title, I’m done with the slide. So I sit there, my arms crossed, patiently waiting for the speaker to finish reading all the text. (I find these pauses a good time to make a move on the multiple WordsWithFriends games I have going on my iPhone.) Then the slide changes, and in a few seconds I’ve read it all, and the process starts anew. It’s unbearably boring. Reading to the audience makes the presentation deathly boring. Be the anti-Nike and Just Don’t Do It.

Use sans-serif fonts for titles, serif fonts for text.
This is a rule of thumb, not to be followed strictly, but it can be useful when thinking about laying out text. Headlines have much more visual punch when they are a narrow, closely-kerned sans-serif font. Text reads smoother to the eye with serifs.

A word of caution, though, is to avoid using more than two types of font on each slide. You can get away with a headline font and a text font, but if you go much beyond that then it becomes painful to the audiences’ eyes and distracts from the presentation.

An ideal font is one that balances readability with visuals aesthetics, all the while fading into the background like the soundtrack to a movie. If your audience thinks about your fonts, you’ve failed. If you audience gets distracted by your fonts, you’ve failed. Make the fonts as integral to the presentation as the calm tone of your voice.

Lose the centered text.
One of the first rules one learns in graphic design courses is to avoid centering text. Centered text looks juvenile; it’s something kids like to do. But as adults, we have better options. Unfortunately, Microsoft doesn’t seem to hire people with graphics experience to put together its software, so a centered headline is a common default on PowerPoint themes. People can be forgiven for making their talks this way; in a McLuhanesque sense, they’re being directed to do so because it’s how their software wants them to do it.

But chose a better option. Left-justified text is fine; right-justified looks even more interesting. Choose one and stick with it.

Whatever you do, don’t mix type justifications on one slide. Make all text justified one way--left or right--and stick with that unless you have a very good reason. (One possible justification is to wrap text around a graphic, but that should be a rarity, no more than one slide per presentation.)

Use bullet points sparingly.
I just do not understand the thinking that goes into the design of Microsoft products. On almost every PowerPoint template, when you click in the text box to write what’s going to appear on your slide, the first thing that automatically happens is that you find yourself writing in a bulleted list. This is wrong on so many levels that there’s not space here to explain, but suffice it to say that bullets should be the rarity rather than the default; bullets have a place, but not with every line of text.

Microsoft’s default here pushes users toward making horrible-looking slides, in which all their text is arranged in some sort of half-assed, bullet-determined nested hierarchy. This is no way to make a slide. Avoid bullets and simply make your text justify without unneeded ornamentation.

Lose the “talk identification” on the first slide.
Many presentations started off by giving the date and the conference, in addition to the speaker. I’m left wondering: “Does this speaker think I don’t know where I am? Does this speaker think I am unaware of what day it is?” These completely unnecessary distractions need to be removed.

Lose the speaker/university/page number crawl along the bottom of each slide.
Some talks seemed to prepared according to some institutional template, so that each speaker has an identical looking slide, with the institution and slide number along the bottom. I can’t say enough how bad this looks. It’s as if the talk is some sort of branding exercise.

A talk is a performance. Anything that distracts from that performance needs to be burned away, until the only thing left is the core of what you’re trying to say. Distractions such as slide numbers are an egregious visual annoyance; frankly, when a talk has those, I find it hard to listen to the talk and my eyes are drawn away from the slide material to the bottom. Instead of hearing the speaker, all I can do it keep thinking to myself, “Jesus, that looks bad. Why would anyone do that?”

Lose the copyright symbols
A significant number of talks have little copyright symbols along the bottom of the page. The pretension that someone would actually want to steal your slides is preposterous. Also, if anyone did actually steal your data, then you would have proper legal recourse, even without a distracting and unnecessary copyright symbol.

Thoughts cannot be copyrighted, in any event, so once you’ve said something out in public then everyone else has fair rights to it. In the modern era, a good rule of thumb is that if you speak it or put it on the Internet, then it has now become public domain, in fact if not in legal practice (I’m one of those who thinks the openness of the Internet should change laws more than laws should change the Internet). Instead of imagining that a copyright symbol on the bottom of each page somehow protects you, a much better viewpoint is that the purpose of scientific conferences is to share information, openly, without restriction.

Lose the lengthy institutional thanks.
Many of the talks ended with a slide thanking all the people who helped with the project. That’s fine, but speaking at a scientific conference is not the same as winning the Oscars.

While I understand thanking individuals for their personal help, what makes even less sense are the institutional thanks. Sure, your work was helped out by an NSF grant. Fine. But do we really need to have our time taken up talking about this? Are presentations really the place for such a thing? If so, when does that stop? If I corner you outside in the hall and ask a few questions, which you answer with knowledge you gained in part from an NSF grant, are you then obligated to thank NSF after answering my questions? Is it something like the Intel duh-do-duhduda jingle that has to be chimed whenever Intel’s name is mentioned in a commercial?

There’s a time and place for thanks. And scientists should be thankful for the research money they receive (though I might argue because many grants are so small and miserly, some of that thanks might be given a bit tongue in cheek). But a presentation is a performance. You’re on stage. Seconds are counting down. Do musicians thank all of their music teachers after each concert? Did Picasso paint a thank you to his mentors at the bottom of each painting? When the amount of time thanking institutions who are not even there competes with the talk itself, it all seems a bit much.

Finally, don’t use PowerPoint.
Many academics use Macs, but of these, the majority still use PowerPoint to write their presentations. This makes a certain amount of sense; people keep doing what they are accustomed to doing, and PowerPoint has been around a long time. But there is far superior presentation software available, Apple’s Keynote.

In every way, Keynote runs smoother, quicker, and can do a lot more than PowerPoint. Using a Microsoft product on a Macintosh is like swapping out the engine on a Porsche with the engine from a Yugo. Sure, the car may still run … sort of. But there’s no reason to use such a primitive, clunky, and underpowered program as PowerPoint on a race car computer such as a Mac.

One downside to using Keynote to write talks is that most computers are PCs and therefore only run PowerPoint. A simple solution is to export your finished Keynote presentation as a pdf; this preserves your slides exactly as they appear to you. This can also be a good way to make sure you don’t have any font issues; you may use a splendid ornate font that is installed on your computer, but if you transfer your PPT to another computer that doesn’t have that font already installed, then it won’t display correctly. Pdfs are a good way to overcome this.

Pdfs also load up fine on PCs, and you can run them full-screen simply by changing the View to View Slideshow. Pdf files do not preserve transitions, but you really shouldn’t use a lot of cute transitions--text bouncing into place, or swooping all over the screen--unless you are 12 year-old who finds such distracting gimmicks amusing.

Well, that’s it. Over the years, I've made all these mistakes in my own presentations (and may still do so in the future!). But creating talks that are even a little bit clearer will help communicate science.

Saturday, July 23, 2011

Scuttling Our Fleet


Last week, the final mission of space shuttle program completed with the safe touchdown of Atlantis in Florida. With this landing, the American manned space program came to an official, ignominious end. This bitter defeat comes not from a foreign enemy, or from a technological failure--but from the conscious, deliberative, mistaken choice by America to withdraw from space.

Historians regard with bewilderment at the 1433 decision by China to destroy the immense treasure ships of Cheng Ho, and to abandon its flourishing trading routes throughout the Indian Ocean. The size and scale of Cheng Ho’s expeditions is best grasped by the fact that nearly a century later, when the European explorers of Magellan’s voyage first entered this region of the world, many of the locals still prized artifacts, such as fine porcelain, acquired by trading with Cheng Ho’s fleet. Despite the potential of this empire building, one day in 1433 China inexplicably chose to discard its budding empire and withdraw from the world for over five hundred years.

Historians may look upon the end of the space shuttle program, 21 July 2011, as a similar day for the United States.

Generations of Americans have taken for granted the possibility that our best and brightest might one day achieve the dream of becoming an astronaut. Now we no longer have a manned spaceflight program, though it is possible Americans may still travel to the ISS--as passengers on Russian craft. The unearthing of irony is one of the prime motivators for historians, yet this irony is so hyperbolic as to strain credulity.

Astronaut Story Musgrave put it this way:

“Why are we so poor in our vision and so poor in our project management that we come to a point where it's reasonable to phase out the current program and we have no idea what the next one is? … Washington is in total failure that this has happened.”

Just as America has decided to abandon the frontier of space, American science stands at a precipice. American students are fleeing from science; enrollments in scientific disciplines hover in the lower single digits, while more lucrative fields--business administration, accounting, finance--swell with students. But the problems of American education are not restricted to science education.

Americans are spurning higher education, though advanced training has never been more vital to high-paying employment. The United States used to be first among other nations in the percentage of 25-34 year-olds who had earned college degrees; now we are number twelve, behind Belgium and Russia. One-third of universities saw graduation rates fall in the years between 2002 and 2008. Instead of helping this problem by lowering college costs, we are choosing instead to make it more difficult and expensive to attend college; in 2009, the University of California, one of the largest public university systems in the world, decided to raise tuition 32% in one year, making even a public education unaffordable even for many students born in the lower middle classes.

We like to imagine that America is first in every field, but in science the real figure is number twenty-nine; American students rank 29th in science abilities, behind Croatia and the Czech Republic.

Even as we are choosing to fail, other countries are choosing to thrive. The People’s Republic of China is rapidly gaining ground in the number of peer-reviewed scientific papers published English; it is estimated that by 2013, the PRC will publish more scientific papers than America.

Yet this crisis elicits not even a dim reflection of the panic that consumed the country after the Sputnik launch. There are no calls for massive funding for education, no calls for increasing the number of federally-funded scientific research positions, no call for augmenting the number of science professorships at universities so that some of the PhDs snared in perpetual post-doc hell can finally begin their full research careers instead of spending all their time bumping from one temporary job to another. Such fixes are not even remotely part of the discussion.

Instead, on the same day that Atlantis touched down in Florida, the Republican leader of the House of Representatives informed the president that he was ending negotiations over the increase of the federal debt limit, a once-trivial formality needed to maintain the full faith and credit of the United States. Instead of addressing the problems of science, political leaders are consumed with petty games of chicken. Just as during the invasion of Iraq, Americans workers setting up the occupation infrastructure were forced to follow OSHA regulations in the middle of an active war zone, our entire government now seems paralyzed with meaningless theatre while an ominous threat looms. It is as if the captain of the Titanic ordered his officers to make sure their compasses were in calibration even as the ship sank.

Manned spaceflight is not the only scientific casualty of these misplaced priorities. In April, an important radio telescope array in California was forced to shutter its operations for lack of funds . For scientific discoveries in astronomy, or paleontology, or high energy physics, one must increasingly look outside the United States. We have decided to withdraw.

Who would have thought that as scientific research blossom elsewhere--in the PRC, at CERN--the United States would be pulling back? Who would have thought that a little over a half century following Sputnik, the Russians would have finally fulfilled Khrushchev’s taunt and buried the United States?

But then, during the height of the treasure fleet, how could Cheng Ho have known that the forces of irrationality and incorrect decisions would so easily overwhelm progress?


Friday, May 20, 2011

new landslide hazard map

The California Geological Survey has released a new map of landslide hazard that reinforces some of the incontrovertible facts about the equation that governs landslides in the Bay Area:

slope angle + clay expansion + weak rock + rain = landslide

The last variable, rain, is one that is peculiar in the Bay Area. We're moderately arid--not as many inches as Seattle, far more than Barstow. But the signature of Bay Area rains is that they come all at once, in catastrophic storms that funnel into the Bay Area across the Pacific as if by a pipeline. The effect of this is saturation, and the effect of saturation is overland runoff, water literally unable to soak into the receiving clay. This runoff can have an ferocious erosive effect, transforming stable slopes in a matter of hours to undercut, unstable, moving landscapes.

As the San Jose Mercury News has reported, this is bad news for Marin County. Marin is blessed with steep, interesting hills of schist and serpentinite and chert. But the vertiginous fractured Franciscan landscape are both weak and steep, simply waiting for a slight nudge, in the form of water weight and lubrication. And unlike the East Bay, where the mountainous regions are sparsely developed, Marin has extensive building on very steep slopes.

As bad as this is, it gets worse. As was recently discussed at a conference in Sacramento, California faces a risk from periodic "megastorms," called ArkStorms, which can deluge the state with biblical rain.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Earthquake predictions, and the coming storm

Citizens of Rome are frightened that an earthquake is about to occur:

Thousands of people are reported to be staying out of Rome for the next few days, over fears the city will be hit by a huge earthquake.

The panic was sparked by rumours that seismologist Raffaele Bendandi, who died in 1979, predicted the city would be devastated by a quake on 11 May ...

But many people said they were leaving the city to be on the safe side.

There are reports of an 18% increase in the number of city employees planning to stay away from work

The magnitude of this silliness is shocking.

Earthquake prediction has never been able to pinpoint an exact day and time of a quake. This may be a goal forever out of reach of seismologists; the same nonlinear dynamics that make short-term weather prediction impossible more than about a week ahead are involved in the dynamics of earthquakes, meaning that very slight changes in initial conditions produce very different results.

But, in a very real way, this doesn't matter.

Geologists still know 1) where earthquakes will occur in the future, 2) how large they will be in the future, 3) approximately how many people they will kill in a given urban area, based upon existing buildings, and 4) a range of time, in years, when the earthquake, based on past events, is most likely to occur.

For example, on the world's deadliest urban fault, the Hayward Fault, geologists know exactly where the fault lies. In fact, its traces through the San Francisco East Bay are unmistakeable, in thousands of offset foundations, building cracks, and sidewalks buckled by creep. We know where the fault is, and because the subsurface geometry of Hayward goes (unlike many other faults) pretty much straight down, we have a reasonable idea that epicenters will be focused along the fault trace.

We also know approximately how large the coming quake will be. Right now there is thought to be enough stored energy in the rocks to produce a >6.7 Mw quake. That will be quite devastating in proximity to so many homes. We know that the tens of thousands of unreinforced brick buildings in the Bay Area will likely mean casualties on the scale of Japan's 1992 Kobe quake, which killed 1994, which killed over 6400 people.

We also know when we can expect the Hayward to rupture, based on trench work that has revealed a long-term record of past events. According to the great work of Jim Lienkaemper, of the USGS, the recurrence interval of the Hayward ranges from about 161 years, plus or minus 65 years, to 170 years, plus or minus 82 years. For the five most recent big quakes, however, the recurrence interval is only 138 years, plus or minus 58 years.

The last big Hayward Fault event was the quake of 1868, which was 143 years ago. That means by the last-five measurements, we are squarely in the time zone for the next quake, though we, in fact, entered the lower range of this in 1948. By 2064, we are virtually guaranteed to have the quake, though it most likely will occur well before this. Likewise, with the 161 and 170 numbers, we long ago entered the time zone where the quake is primed and ready to occur. This is not good news for us, but it is a prediction, one verified by much scientific research.

So when people ask when the next big quake will be, we can tell them that geologists know where, when, and how bad it will be. This usually comes as a surprise. People are looking for some sort of 3-day warning, which does not exist. People--and municipalities--need to start preparing for the guaranteed seismic event in the near future, rather than imagining scientists are somehow going to come up with a warning as they would with an approaching storm.

quakes can drop land

We often think of sea level as the height of water relative to the land. But geologists know that the land is also in motion, somewhat complicating measurements of rising sea level. (Alaska, which is tectonically rising, records less apparent sea level rise than elsewhere, for example.) In cases where land is subsiding, sea level rise may actually seem augmented. And no part of the Earth underwent a quicker subsidence than areas of coastal Japan during the great quake of 11 March 2011.

As a recent story confirms,
The March 11 earthquake that hit eastern Japan was so powerful it pulled the entire country out and down into the sea. The mostly devastated coastal communities now face regular flooding, because of their lower elevation and damage to sea walls from the massive tsunamis triggered by the quake.
One of my professors of geology remembers camping on a beach the night of the 1992 Mendocino earthquake, and finding in the morning that the coastline had been visibly uplifted, exposing mussell-covered rocks now well-above the high tide line, dooming their sessile molluscan tenants.

While we human like to imagine the solid land as solidly fixed in one place, the reality is far more complex, though our short life spans rarely allow us to the opportunity to observe changes first hand. This the nature of deep time; we can see the long term effects of geologic changes but usually only indirectly observe them occurring.

Japan is an exception:

Some areas in Ishinomaki moved southeast 17 feet (5.3 meters) and sank 4 feet (1.2 meters) lower.

"We thought this slippage would happen gradually, bit by bit. We didn't expect it to happen all at once," says Testuro Imakiire, a researcher at Japan's Geospatial Information Authority, the government body in charge of mapping and survey.

The now permanent situation in Japan should give those of us who live in California a moment of pause to reflect on how quickly the land around may one day change.