It has me reading more than I have in years – but the real change was the realization that it brought me to. That realization was that I am living a life full of distractions. Email, Facebook, Twitter, various blogs, sports results, and the news cycle in general, these things all compete for my attention – and these are just the non-work related items. But, we all know this already. I knew it intellectually, but I didn’t know it intuitively.

Why did the Kindle make this clear to me? Because I bought it for the same reason that anybody buys one. It should simplify your life, and it really did. No more heavy books to tote around or to take up more room on shelves. Really the same reason someone buys a laptop or a smartphone – to combine lots of disparate things into one. But the problem with those devices is that even though they make your work easier (they help you accomplish tasks), they also invite you to avoid those tasks or just forget about them all together as you check your Facebook feed one more time. So really, if you aren’t careful, these things make your life more complicated not simpler. The Kindle doesn’t do that. Theoretically you can check email or got to a website using the Kindle. But, in reality it is a laborious task to undertake. I don’t think I’ve ever done either using my Kindle. Why is this a good thing? Well, it would take me forever to read a book on an iPad because I’d be just as likely to check Netflix to see if there was a movie I’d rather be watching.

The beauty of the kindle is that it does what it is supposed to do – replaces bookshelves worth of books and… that’s it. That’s enough, it doesn’t need to do anything else. It’s actually better that it doesn’t. That concept became vaguely clear to me in the first few weeks I used it, and it has only crystallized further in the subsequent months. The Kindle is actually better because it does less. It does one thing and it does it well. Maybe lots of things in my life would be better if they did one thing at a time. Maybe I’d be better if I only did one at a time. The Kindle does a rare thing, it combines what used to occupy a lot of space into very little while still allowing you to focus on what’s important. When you turn on a Kindle you don’t send a tweet, you just read.

(Find the video after the jump)

I think this just goes to show that me and the other Paleopals really love science to the point of absurdity, and can be found out in the world basically living as we do on the podcast (i.e. beer in hand, science in mouth). The audio quality is a bit rough but I sincerely appreciate Rick turning his lens on me and my antics long enough to pontificate on some paleontology. I hope you enjoy watching as much as I did filming.

And one last lingering question I cannot help but ask: how would you feel about more video content in the future? No promises at this point, but letting us know can only help to encourage!

I asked a fellow grad student, Tim, who knows about these things, just how an emerald could grow to this size.  His answer reads like a recipe, but probably not one you could make yourself.

First, you need a lot of water, heat, and beryllium. Beryllium (Be) is one of the main constituents of an emerald. It’s a relatively rare in continental crust, but can be found concentrated in mafic and ultra-mafic rocks, such as those uplifted from the mantle or oceanic crust. The Be is eventually leached out of the rock by a hot fluid of the right chemical composition, so what kind of fluid does it take?

It's what dwarves play football with.

Here’s where’s the science gets tricky. The water needs to be able to dissolve sufficient amounts of Be, as well as aluminium (Al) and silicon (Si). The full chemical formula for beryl is (Be₃Al₂(SiO₃)₆). The green color comes from trace amounts of chromium (Cr) or vanadium (V). According to Tim, the water is usually from a hydrothermal source already containing carbon dioxide (CO2), chlorine (Cl), sodium (Na), calcium (Ca), and magnesium (Mg), so it’s essentially a carbonic acid brine, which are associated with hydrothermal alteration of oceanic crust. These compounds and elements all aid in Be solubility and mobility.

The fluid and heat come from a nearby granitic or magmatic intrusion. Temperatures below around 500 degrees C result crystallize magmatic components, leaving behind the hydrothermal fluid saturated in incompatible elements. The fluid pulls Be out of the oceanic crust, leading to the precipitation of an emerald following subsequent changes in the chemical or physical conditions of the fluid.

That’s how any basic emerald forms, for an emerald this size you’d need a large fluid volume and a particularly high concentration of Be. Very cool! We really don’t talk about hard rock geology on the show enough…

The emerald’s Brazilian name, Teodora, translates to “Gift of God.” I’ll thank geology. And Tim. Thanks, Tim!

For anyone that can read:

The Kindle, I eyed it suspiciously for years.  For the record I love books.  I like reading just fine, but I love books. But maybe the zen existence I’m living in California eventually caught up to me and I’m starting to appreciate the minimalist approach to all kinds of things, or maybe I just lugged my ever growing collection of dead trees around the country to one too many new apartments.  Whatever the reason, I’ve fallen in love the Kindle. That screen is so nice, after staring at an LCD screen all day, you come home turn on the Kindle (whose battery lasts forever) and read what looks to be ink on paper. I almost wrote a whole blog post on my Kindle, but was too busy reading on it to be bothered. Anyway, they are cheap and the special offers version often offers $1 books.

For kids that love natural history museums or, just as well, adults that love natural history museums:

Wonderstruck by Brian Selznick

The American Natural History Museum in New York takes center stage in the plot of this mystery.  So, this is a doubly appropriate gift if the person you have in mind lives near enough to NYC to make a visit to the museum a reality once the novel has been digested and is back on the shelf.

For the Potter Fan:

Most of the HP stuff is wildly overpriced. I won’t tell you how much my wife paid for a golden snitch Christmas tree ornament.  This however, looks just as good in my mind, and is much, much cheaper.  A golden snitch antenna ball topper.  Put it on your car, leave it lying around your study, or add it to your quaffles.

You know what would be even better, something that a Potter fan would enjoy that wasn’t officially licensed by JKR. Here is the perfect solution. A real deal feather quill set.  The same one JK uses for all I know.  Also, good for the Deranged Millionaire on your list.  Speaking of which…

For the Deranged Millionaire:

A wall tentacle. Really I guess it should be from your favorite Deranged Millionaire, because that’s the only person that can afford it. And, furthermore, it’s actually not even a solstice gift, because if you ordered it today it wouldn’t be done in time for the Solstice, or even Christmas.  It takes eight weeks because they are all custom made.  Smaller varieties are available for less (medium  small I’m not sure how long they take to prepare). But this kicks off my list of things…

…For Cepholopod Lovers:

Cephalopods are in, I can feel it. It used to be zombies, and I guess zombies are still in, for reasons I don’t quite understand. They just refuse to die (badum ching).  It might be the rise in all things cthulhu that is inspiring our inner cephalopod, but I think it’s probably Dr. Zoigberg. In any case, I present to you a collection of cephalopodian weirdness at many different price points from across the interwebs gathered here for your solstice shopping convenience!

We all like to think about cephalopods, but where more than in the shower? Why not increase those soapy sentiments with a nice shower curtain or a squid caddy?

Afterwards, you can continue your morning octopus meditation with a cup of tea and tentacles.

Finally, I wrap up with something we can all agree to enjoy, having tentacles for fingers.

For those Sci-Fi fans…

Who doesn’t have a friend that will reenact the alien chestbusting scene at the drop of a hat?  Now, with this key prop, you might actually figure our what they are doing.

I probably recommended this taun-taun sleeping bag last year, but here it is again.  I think it pretty much speaks for itself. If you think they stink on the outside… check out the blue intestine patterned fabric on the inside.

For any other kid on your list:

Their parents will probably appreciate this monster hoodie because it is quasi-useful, the kids will love it because, well, because it’s a frikkin monster.

First thing you should do is light up their room and remind them of the warm evenings of summer with an electronic firefly in a jar. Not only is this a cool gift, there’s no guilt when you wake up in the morning to find all the little lightning bugs dead. Seriously, what was that all about? Does anybody know why those bugs are so eager to give up on life? But I digress…

As much as we may want to remind our friend that it will be warm again sometime in the future, we shouldn’t deny the reality that it is actually cold out. So I recommend getting your friend a jacket from SeV, makers of clothing with many pockets. There’s something quintessentially geeky about loving pockets, but I know I do and hopefully you do too. I have a pair of pants with 9 pockets. That’s right, 9. And this jacket puts those pants to shame. Fortunately pants and jackets can be worn at the same time for some serious constructive interference. I’m not sure I could even fill that many pockets and still be able to move.

Another way to keep warm is with a hot beverage. We may not usually have them on the show, but we Paleopals are caffeine fiends. I think we each have our own way to consume the glorious chemical energy. I prefer straight black coffee, and while I have yet to try it from a civet’s butt, I’d certainly try it if someone else paid for it. Then again there’s always the monkey-picked tea alternative (disclaimer: may have actually been picked by apes). But perhaps we should just keep things simple with a glass for our most on-air consumed drink Beryllium and Erbium. Think about it.

I think the only other thing your friend needs to get through winter is some reading material (or listening material in the form of an iPod pre-loaded with our show). Now by way of shameless plugging, I think some of the books by people we’ve had on the show are the perfect choice. I won’t give you an exhaustive list (we have a guest list for that) but I’ll give what I think the best choices are from a few different categories:

Novel – Midwinter by Matt Sturges (Episode 28), fantasy for the snow

Nonfiction – The Science of Kissing by Sheril Kirshenbaum (Episode 73), snuggle up and keep warm

Comic – Starman Ominbus Vol. 1  written by James Robinson (Episode 8), there’s even a touching Xmas issue!

And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention our own store, full of shirts, mugs, glasses, and other Science… sort of accessories! If you don’t have friends who listen to the show put the gear you want on your own list. You deserve it.

I think with all this you’ll be well prepared to survive the Solstice and make the geek in your life happy. It’s the shortest day of the year, so it’ll literally all be over soon.

Turns out that Physics is full of SUPER SEXY IDEAS which are way too technical for science journalists to talk about. No, the best way to taste this fruit is to go to the tree. I (ben) have assembled a team: my titanium physicists. A group of  the rarest sort. technical experts, and also lucid and fun.

But you can’t just throw a group of experts together in a room. they start talking technical and it’s impossible to follow. So to keep everything under control, we bring on a special guest each week! Awesome people who are good at interrupting nerds.

the result is a half-hour long show, released fortnightly. it’s super fun and i encourage you to listen. we’re up on itunes!

Promo for Bodies: The Exhibition

While Ryan was enjoying New York Comic Con, I decided to take the opportunity to visit some of the Big Apple’s awesome museums. I left the choice of museum up to my good friend Rick, a New York native and fellow nerd, and he ended up taking me to the South Street Seaport — think Fisherman’s Wharf, NYC-style — for a double exhibit feature, Bodies: The Exhibition [BtE] and Dialog in the Dark (to be reviewed soon). Some of you might already know about BtE, since it’s been around since 2005. Multiple variations on the theme have been around for nearly 20 years, so you may have seen Bodies: The Exhibition, or Our Body: The Universe Within, or perhaps you saw Body Worlds back when it came out in 1995. These exhibitions are all independently owned and run, but you’d be forgiven for confusing them because they’re eerily similar. Essentially, you wander through room after room of plastinated human bodies, learning about the various systems and structures under our skin, seeing comparisons of healthy versus diseased organs, and wondering how the displays were made and who on earth these people once were.

I had seen Our Bodies: The Universe Within with my biology class in high school, and as a result had a severe case of deja vu while exploring BtE. The bodies were posed in similar fashions, highlighting the same systems. The bodies also all happened to be Asian, which was rather odd and brings up a whole other issue of provenance. “Provenance”, from the French “provenir”, means “to come from”. In the museum world, every item in your collection, be it a piece of artwork, a natural history specimen, or a body, needs to have some chronological record of ownership telling you who created and owned the work, or who collected a specimen when and where. Provenance matters for academic record-keeping purposes, and from a legal standpoint. For example, in the case of Nazi-looted art, if a museum acquires a work that had been stolen from its owners, the owners and their descendants still have a legal claim.

There’s some controversy over these two “body” exhibitions because of the provenance issue, with speculation that the bodies on display belonged to executed Chinese political prisoners. I don’t know if the truth is quite so gruesome, but it’s certainly unsettling to know exactly what someone’s stomach and intestines look like but still have no idea who this person was and how they ended up here. We do know that the bodies were received from the Chinese Bureau of Police, but there’s no further information as to whether they were sold on the black market or taken from prisons. Premier Exhibitions Incorporated, the company that runs BtE, has stated that it saw documentation for each of the cadavers, but couldn’t provide proof of the circumstances that led to the death of the individuals. The Body Worlds exhibition says that it gets its whole-body plastinates from donors who gave informed consent as participants in a special body donation program, but that hasn’t stopped some groups from feeling squeamish about the whole idea of displaying cadavers.

So what on earth does it mean to be plastinated? Plastination is a way of preventing decomposition that lasts longer than traditional embalming. Essentially, you replace the water and fat in tissue with plastics called curable polymers, which include silicon, epoxy, and polyester copolymer. As a result, your specimen doesn’t smell, can be manipulated, and retains a lot of its original features like shape and color. There are three centers for the Institute of Plastination, one in Germany, one in Kyrgystan, and one in China. Here are the main steps of the plastination process patented by Gunther von Hagens back in the ‘70s:

• Step 1: embalm the body (or organ) in a formaldehyde solution. You don’t want the specimen to rot while you’re preparing it.
• Step 2: do whatever dissection you need to do. Say you’re showcasing the reproductive system, well, you’d want to remove anything that’s in the way or obscures your view.
• Step 3: place your specimen in an acetone bath and freeze it. The acetone will replace all the water in the cells.
• Step 4: place your specimen in a liquid polymer bath (ex: epoxy resin), and create a vacuum. This will cause the acetone to boil out of the cells, drawing in the liquid polymer. Now your cells are filled with liquid plastic. Hooray!
• Step 5: cure the plastic with UV light or heat or gas to harden it into whatever shape you want.

Now you have yourself a plastinated specimen! Impress your friends and horrify your elderly relatives!

Ok, back to the exhibition. You start off in a room with giant wall-labels about major figures in the history of medicine, explaining when we discovered certain features of the human body. The most amazing thing about this section is how little we knew for how long. It’s not till the 1800s that the pace of discovery really starts accelerating, and that we start practicing anything like modern medicine. Frankly it’s a miracle we’ve survived this long.

You start with the skeletal system, and more layers are added (or rather, are emphasized) as you move from room to room. By the end, you’ll have seen an isolated circulatory system, every single muscle in the human body, the nervous system, the digestive system, the respiratory system (including non-smoking PSAs), the urinary system and the reproductive systems. There’s also a separate gallery containing fetuses from every point of a pregnancy, that I found fascinating if only because you can see the development of the skeletal system. In each room there are cases full of individual organs and cross-sectioned views, and a full-sized plastinated body posed in a manner that highlights the theme of that room (except for the reproductive system room). For example, in a room about prosthetics, you have a discus-thrower whose muscles have been cut away at curious points to reveal what a hip implant, a knee-restructuring, a rod-insert and back brace look like. In the respiratory system room, you’re encouraged to throw away your packets of cigarettes. In room after room, you see glossy blobs of cancer covered organs, which will renew your will to train for cancer runs and walkathons.

The whole production quality of the exhibition is excellent, with human body factoids and beautiful designs on the walls, excellent lighting, plenty of space, and the occasional video and interactive. True, the labels were often small and hard to read, and sometimes the body poses were a bit much (the bisected man high-fiving himself, the woman holding her torso muscles open like a cupboard door to reveal her organs), but the end result was a fascinating peek at what we don’t normally get to see.

I think that’s the crux of the tension surrounding this exhibition — we never get to see what’s under our skin, and we grow up thinking it’s gross or wrong, but we still want to know. This is why we have horror movies, for the fascination of getting to see the “unheimlich” aka the “uncanny”, things that we used to be intimately familiar with and are part of us but that are now taboo. It’s also why my friend at UC Berkeley’s Museum of Vertebrate Zoology thinks we stop at car-wrecks. She doesn’t rubberneck because she knows exactly what mammal organs look like, but unless you’re a surgeon, a pathologist, or you work in a museum’s specimen prep lab like she does, accident scenes are your only chance to see what’s inside. Should we feel weird about an exhibition like BtE? Or should it get the same treatment as any other science/natural history topic?

It really is too bad that these types of exhibitions are bogged down in provenance issues, since at the end of the experience, you gain a whole new sense of respect for your body, and for what it does automatically every day. By proceeding in such a controversial way, the creators of the exhibitions do a disservice to the scientific content. If you knew that the cadavers were willingly donated and the whole process was documented and above-board, you could focus on learning more about your body. Knowing more about your body helps you make smarter decisions about your lifestyle and health care, and be concerned about the health of others. If you know how much left is left to learn, you may become more supportive of scientific endeavors. A lot of the messaging in this exhibition was about how to stay healthy, but there’s so much more we could talk about. Imagine displays on comparative anatomy, like if Your Inner Fish was adapted from book to exhibition. Or displays on the history of medicine, or even what cutting edge science is discovering. There’s a whole world (or universe) within, why not explore it?

Juliana hopes this post didn’t make you too squeamish. Her tweets are usually less grotesque, unless they’re about Ryan, cause he’s icky.

Another in our series of Ben’s ramblings Patented Wisdom BOLTS that didn’t make it to air! This week Chad asked us about our thoughts on math education, and Ben had things to say. We were running long I Didn’t want the reader’s ears to explode with wisdom so I didn’t read it, but I’ve posted Chad’s question here followed by Ben’s response. It’s interesting stuff from the newly minted PhD and teacher  the prophet of thunder, so hopefully you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I did. And make sure you listen to the full episode from this Ep 110 – Back to School!

-Ryan (with edits by Ben)

This is primarily directed at Ben and Charlie – the math and physics guys, but I am sure everyone will have an opinion… The subject may be a little out of context, but ,there was recently an op-ed piece in the NY Times about changing the way we approach the way math is taught – proposing that we lose the geometry, trig, pre-calc, calculus progression and swap in more contextual subjects such as finance, data and engineering to convey the math concepts.

How To Fix Our Math Education

Given that complex math is such an integral (pardon the pun) part of science – especially physics, do we risk losing some good minds by “dumbing down” our math instruction?

No worries if this doesn’t fit the discussion.

 

Lets talk about this in terms of carts and horses.

so right now, the math education system goes “hey, lets teach the horses to get all harnessed up and push carts from behind. There’s all sorts of carts they can push. physics carts. economics carts. logical reasoning carts. biology and business. plus, it’s a good way to weed out the really strong horses that are good at pushing, and the horses trained this way get really strong”.

on the other hand, the writer of the article [who proposed replacing abstract subjects, with subject specific problem solving] suggests that in doing so, we are putting the cart in front of the horse. His argument, to paraphrase, is that “most horses walk must better when they can see where they are going. and that more horses will get stronger and better at walking in the process.”

I can kind of see both sides of this issue. As a physicist who has to take math classes on occasion (*ughhh*) I can say that it’s MUCH EASIER to learn math when you know where it’s going. And as a math educator, i can honestly say that there is a canonical way of teaching math which desperately needs re-evaluation. In so far as university mathematics goes, I think that the education system reinforces its teaching practices, selecting the students who best learn math in this specific way, and who go on to teach the math in the same way.

 

On the other hand, as I said before regarding horses: the current education system (especially at the precalculus level) selects out the students who are good at this type of problem solving, and furthermore this abstract education makes people stronger at math. Do you think that more people would enroll in engineering if we taught math differently in high school? I’d wager exactly the same number of people would enroll in engineering. What’s more, from experience, learning the theory and practicing in the abstract often makes for stronger and more versatile thinkers. I can’t imagine learning calculus only from a physics course. or algebra only from a… what? a physics course?

It’s clear that innumeracy is one of the “problems” which we want our golden society of the future to have conquered. So yes, i’d like our math education to be more inclusive. Is it a question of quality or curriculum? maybe it’s both. but we should make note of one important thing before we take an axe to the pythagorean theorem. Math is a useful and wonderful tool because it is (by it’s very nature) abstract. it’s the most abstract of all the subjects. In this light, wouldn’t taking the abstraction out of the math class be like taking the lyricism out of poetry class?

get that horse back behind the cart where it belongs.
stupid horses.

horses are stupid

-Ryan

This is primarily directed at Ben and Charlie – the math and physics guys, but I am sure everyone will have an opinion… The subject may be a little out of context, but ,there was recently an op-ed piece in the NY Times about changing the way we approach the way math is taught – proposing that we lose the geometry, trig, pre-calc, calculus progression and swap in more contextual subjects such as finance, data and engineering to convey the math concepts.

This officially marks the start of our grand experiment in putting together a network of quality science content in a way that is ideally approachable and enjoyable to both laymen and scientist alike. No big deal, right? Well the Weinersmiths certainly make it sound easy! Hopefully this post comes as old news, but if not, get thee to iTunes or your preferred podcast aggregator for some Weinery goodness.

I’ve listened to the first few episodes and can more than vouch for it’s quality. Kelly and Zach have their realms of expertise and give each other, and their guest, plenty of space to shine. If there’s one difference between Science… sort of and The Weekly Weinersmith, its that they really give a topic time to breathe. When we attempt that we get told we’re dragging on too long, and it’s a fair criticism to us, but the Weinersmiths keep it engaging all the way through. Some podcasts fail to provide enough depth, others drag on interminably, and their show manages to weave between the two extremes. I promise you it’s much harder than it sounds.

So suffice it to say I expect nothing but great things from here on out and I couldn’t be more thrilled to share the stage with people who are doing this like pros from day 1. This is quite literally the point of the network, to join forces, help each other podcast as professionally as possible, and hock each others wares readily and enthusiastically.

So if you’ve already subscribed, thanks and congratulations on being awesome! If not, why not? You some kind of phaliphobe? But seriously, it’s OK if you don’t listen, as long as you download it 3 times to make up for it.

Now would also be a good time to get excited for Ben Tippett‘s upcoming show  The Titanium Physicists. Winter Solstice is really coming early for y’all!

First in Space

Writer: James Vining
Artist: James Vining
Publisher:  Oni Press

$9.95/96 pages/Black and White

All summer long I’d been hearing about chimpanzees in the media, so now that the weather’s changing, it seemed fitting to close out the season with one of the greatest chimp stories of all time. As one might expect from a book titled “First in Space“, this is the tale of the first living being in space, a chimpanzee with the rather unassuming name “Ham”. I know, I know, just one letter off… In the late 1950s and early 1960s, the United States was lagging behind the USSR in the Space Race. The Soviets had already launched Laika (a story also available in comic form) into earth orbit, and the Americans were looking to jump ahead by successfully launching a creature into space — and successfully recovering the live specimen.

Quick aside: Earlier this summer, I read Ottaviani, Cannon & Cannon’s fabulous T-Minus: the Race to the Moon, which does for the Space Race what Evolution: The Story of Life on Earth did for evolutionary biology, or Bone Sharps, Cowboys and Thunder Lizards did for Gilded Age of paleontology. It’s hard not to want to compare First in Space to T-Minus, but it would be unfair to do so. For one thing, First in Space is a one-man production, and it came out before T-Minus. For another, Ottaviani and the two Cannons (potential band name?) had an incredible array of resources and interviews to pull from. Finally, the ultimate difference between the two comics is the scope of the narrative: Vining focuses on one specific facet of the Space Race as opposed to an overview. Once I kept these differences in mind, I was able to enjoy First in Space on its own merits.

Now, onto the comic itself. If you’re looking for a plot-centric comic, this is not it. The title and cover tell you everything essential (sorry, spoiler-haters). But with that out of the way, you can enjoy the book for what it is — a glance at part of the Space Race that few people ever really think about. For me at least, the value of this comic was that it made me try to imagine what it must have been like for this chimpanzee to train and go into space, without really knowing the scientific and political aspects of what was happening. Similarly, what was it like for the handlers who grew attached to their charges, but who were also part of the most cutting-edge human endeavor of all time?

The portrayal of chimpanzees can be somewhat of a sensitive topic. You don’t want to anthropomorphize them, because no matter how they resemble us, they’re their own species, with their own outlook on the world that we’ll never understand. Yet at the same time, they share 98% of our genes, so shouldn’t we allow them some sort of special status? Certainly documentaries like Project Nim and blockbusters like Rise of the Planet of the Apes have made us consider what it is to be in human in relation to what it means to be chimpanzee. Vining’s work straddles the fine line of our dual relationship with these creatures: Ham is at once a guinea pig in a larger project, and a protagonist in his own right. He remembers the forest, but is the first creature to see the earth from space.

Vining’s storytelling and artwork reinforced for me this tension and fascination we often feel about apes, where we want them to be more human, but would also find it disconcerting if they ever did become more like us. Sometimes I found myself wishing Ham were drawn with more detailed expressions, or that there were more panels from his point of view, because I wanted to know what was going on in his mind. At other times, I would have found it forced and off-putting if he’d had recognizably human reactions and emotions. Vining hints at but doesn’t fully commit to either portrayal. In other words, Ham is neither a subject from Gombe Stream, nor is he Ceasar.

Ham, Enos, Minnie, and the other chimps are drawn in a simple, cartoonish way, but so are the humans. At first glance, it’s hard to tell the humans apart, and hard to tell the chimps apart. On closer examination though, each person is subtly yet recognizably different, and so are the chimps. Vining’s drawing style is deceptively simple, which comes in handy for rendering complex machinery in a way that won’t overwhelm the non-techy reader but will still satisfy astronauts and enginerds. At times this style makes it difficult to understand what exactly is going on in the frame, but in the end, the mechanics of space flight are not the point. The point is to get the reader to think about the role chimpanzees have played in our history, and how we treat them in return.

Oddly enough, this point only becomes clear at the end of the comic, in an extremely unsettling epilogue. I certainly wanted to check out the relevant links at the end, but I did feel vaguely duped, like the story I was reading had morphed into another tale at the last second, and then ended without any resolution. When it comes to social policies and history, I suppose nothing’s ever resolved, but in a comic book format I suppose I still expect a more traditional narrative structure.

In some ways, a comic might be considered more successful if it leaves you pondering about the topic for a long time, rather than contented with the denoument. I now have many more questions about chimpanzees in the ’60s, such as “was there ever an incident where a chimp bit an astronaut’s face off?” and “how much equipment did the test chimps accidentally destroy?”

I don’t want to leave this post on a depressing note, so I’ll simply end with this observation: a chimpanzee in a space suit is quite possibly the cutest thing I’ve seen in a long time. I submit to you my evidence:

Story: 3/ Art: 4

Overall: 4 Brachiolopes (out of 5)

My friends, Science is not something we DO, it’s something we are.
If you play video games, you are not necessarily a gamer.
If you answer phones for a living, you are not necessarily a receptionist.
But if you have been trained in the sciences, you are a scientist.

My point being that a culture, any culture, recognizes fault lines which divide its population into classes. In the past, you might have been recognized as a catholic, or a protestant. Or as servile or Nobility. Or as a tradesman or clergy. Or a toronto maple leaf’s fan, and a montreal canadiens fan.

Where these fault lines lie is a matter of the culture’s history, and of the zeitgeist. they grow and fade and shift in time according to how useful the divisions are to those who want to discuss the state of the nation. You will notice that no one cares about communists anymore, whereas 40 years ago, being a marxist could get you blacklisted.

So the “scientist/nonscientist” divide is one of these cultural fault lines. And we have done well by it. Polls i have read attribute a greater degree of credibility to the scientist class than any other class. people trust scientists more than politicians, and more than celebrities, and more than teachers. To the glamour of science is attributed the characteristics of trustworthyness, of altruism, of intelligence. People are less likely to think that our arguments are self-interested. They are more likely to think that our opinions are factually correct.

But there are problems too.

the fact that we are seen as “separate” from the “rest” of society means that we are less relatable. Furthermore, becoming a scientist becomes a matter of personal identity, and issues of personal identity are deep-seated and visceral. Think of the girls who drop out of physics because they are told  that “girls can’t do physics”. This isn’t an argument about personal capacity, it’s a matter of personal identity.

Furthermore, all of the cultural accolades which are granted to the scientist class might translate into political power. There is a reason that the tobacco and the oil industry drape themselves in the trappings of science. Conversely, this makes scientists a political threat, and therefore a political target. Think of the war the right wing tea party is waging on science funding. This is because the organizers of the tea party recognize the threat  which the scientific class poses to their own political power.

So although we personally benefit from the glamour of being identified as scientists, this glamour makes us a target, and it can act as a deterrent against more people entering our fields.

If science continues to grow in the esteem of the public (and it will), and if the fault line between “scientist” and “nonscientist” continues to deepen; i foresee great cultural wars. We’ll see jealous politicians cutting science funding. We’ll see jealous celebrities promoting unscientific theories. We’ll see clergymen calling for violence and spurning the scientific class. Just as we only care about learning and data and logic and structure; there are people who are only concerned with the appearance of credibility, and the political power which accompanies it.

I don’t mean to paint a pessimistic picture. I don’t think that we will lose these wars in the long term. Living well, it is said, is the best revenge. It’s also the best means of persuading people that you’re doing something right.

but I do foresee battles. and i hate conflict. it’s a waste.

so what’s to be done?

I think the answer lies in our own experience. I think the answer lies in shows like “science… sort of”.

I want to dissipate the glamour around the science class. People need to see that science is not inaccessible. anyone can understand it. People need to see that scientists aren’t special. they’re normal. they like to chitchat. they like to drink beer. they talk about movies and have arbitrary opinions. we need to show that individual scientists are merely experts. nothing more. anyone can be an expert. mechanics are experts. database managers are experts. even bakers and hairdressers are experts.

I think that if we show that  science is accessible, and that scientists are just experts (at something interesting), that maybe we’ll see the glamour dissipate. And then people won’t see scientists as a separate class of people. And then maybe there won’t be a battle, and no one will get their funding cut ever again.

bn