Latest posts

In Transition

Readers may think I’ve given up on my blog, but the reality is more prosaic: as my ten-year stint as Master of Churchill College comes to an end (at the end of September), I have been moving out of the rather wonderful and spacious Lodge provided by the College for the Master and back to our newly refurbished and significantly smaller house of more than 40 years. Despite the house being extended during the refurbishment, there still seems not to be enough space for the life-time’s accumulated detritus of a couple of academics. Maybe others have long since thrown away, not only the lecture notes for the first course they ever gave, but also their own undergraduate notes, but not me. I am always amazed by the neatness – not to mention legibility – of the notes I took at pace during my own student days, but I have definitely subscribed to the view you never know when they will come in useful. Just occasionally (for instance, when setting exam questions) they have – although that is not a task I will have to face up to in the future.

I have spent an inordinate amount of what one might term ‘creative’ time, time that could have been spent writing this blog for instance, trying to work out where furniture might fit in rooms that aren’t quite the same size as they used to be due to large amounts of additional insulation being introduced (we’ve come off gas and are now running an air-source heat pump, which really requires extensive wall insulation to be effective). Further complications arise from the fact that, during our ten-year absence more furniture has been acquired. This dates from when I emptied my late mother’s house and brought back some ancient, familiar, solid-if-battered items which fitted neatly into the Lodge. Sadly, they fit less neatly into our house, and that only after endless drawing and redrawing of room layouts. I have to offer most sincere thanks to the hard-working team who managed to get my grandmother’s lovely old desk (probably more correctly termed a bureau) up two flights of twisting stairs to my new office location in a loft conversion. It was no mean feat, but they accomplished it with great good humour, if also a lot of sweat.

During this move into the next, and completely uncharted part of my life that amounts to full retirement, I have spent many, many hours going through my belongings and throwing out what I can. Clearly this wasn’t enough to get the volume down to the point needed, and the process will need to continue, although perhaps a little more slowly now the move is actually accomplished. I do feel as if my headspace has been full of moving logistics for months. Various items have still to find a home, and several rooms contain an extraordinary number of boxed-up books for which we still lack bookshelf space. These may definitely be first world problems, but problems they certainly are.

I have learned over the past month or two that my strength is no longer that of a young person, nor is my stamina. But that doesn’t mean I want to sink permanently into an armchair by the fire. I will definitely be wanting to use, at least in some part-time capacity, the different skills I believe I have acquired during my career. So, I am on the look-out for challenging opportunities in areas where I hope I have gained expertise, both as a professional scientist and as a leader of an institution. Mentally I have been trying to work out what I enjoy and what I can do but with less enthusiasm. Everyone who has been through a similar process has warned me not to take on roles just for the sake of it, but to be sure anything I do take on genuinely aligns with my interests and strengths.

In the meantime, the net effect of this transition has meant that the creative time and mental bandwidth that I used to put towards writing this blog regularly have not been available to me recently. Time will tell whether, now that phase is mercifully over, I revert to writing as frequently as I used to. It was always a task I found satisfying and, in some ways, liberating, as I moved away from the formal prose of paper-writing to something a bit more personal and free-form; where I could choose my topic and approach, building on whatever matters of interest (and sometimes dismay) crossed my path.

Those of you who read this frequently in the past (and I note I am approaching the 14th anniversary of starting this blog next week) will know that one topic I often used to write about was the issue of women in science. Having written a book on the subject published last year, it would be nice to think that everything that needs to be said about this I have said. Sadly, that is clearly not so, and the issues have not gone away (see this year’s A Level results, for instance, which show how the proportion of students taking A Level Physics who are girls remains stubbornly low). More may yet need saying here, although I doubt I will be writing another book on the subject. Nevertheless, I think in the back of my mind is the feeling that, on the assumption I keep writing, I will broaden the topics I write about. Watch this space to see how this pans out….

 

Posted in Blogging, Churchill College, moving house, writing blogs | Comments Off on In Transition

What I Read In July

Richard Fortey: Close Encounters of the Fungal Kind Richard Fortey is best known as an author (Life: An Unauthorised Biography) and palaeontologist (Trilobite!) but as his sparkling memoir A Curious Boy revealed, he’s been a skilled amateur mycologist since boyhood. Now you can go on a fungus foray without ever leaving your armchair in the company of someone who really knows his Armillarias from his Amanitas. [DISCLAIMER: I have written a longer review of this forthcoming title for a magazine].

UntitledPeter F. Hamilton: The Void Trilogy (The Dreaming Void/ The Temporal Void/ The Evolutionary Void) I started to read this years ago but it didn’t seem to make much sense, and I was put off by fantasy elements that didn’t seem to sit well with the SFnal framing. Now I know the reason — the Void Trilogy follows on pretty much directly from the Commonwealth Saga (Pandoras Star, Judas Unchained) I reviewed last month, and is best read (or, in my case, listened to) straight after. The action takes place some hundreds of years after the Commonwealth Saga. It’s been found that the black hole at the centre of the Milky Way Galaxy isn’t really a black hole, but an entirely separate universe whose laws are rather different. Time flows faster, for one thing. And Commonwealth technology doesn’t really work. Instead there is … psychic power. Telepathy, telekinesis and so on. Two thousand years earlier (in Void time) a ship from the Commonwealth managed to get in  to the Void — whose barrier seemingly prevents most incursions — and lands on a planet called Querencia, where the crew and their descendants revert to a kind of medieval-grade society (with telepathy). In the greater universe, dreams of the life of Edeard, a powerful psychic from Querencia, leak out and are received by a human called Inigo, who founds a religion called Living Dream whose aim is to migrate into the Void and achieve fulfilment — at the risk of making the Void expand to consume the Galaxy. The rest of humanity aims to stop this happening. But matters are made more complicated by the fact that since Commonwealth times, humanity has split into a series of factions that either embrace or reject technology. The most techno-enthusiastic are the Accelerators who want to enter the Void as a way of jacking them up to ‘post-physical’ status, again risking Void expansion.  And there’s lots more (each one of these three volumes is enormous). Needless to say I enjoyed it hugely. The larger-than-normal amount of woo was countered by characterisation of a depth not often seen in SF. Many of the key characters carry over from the Commonwealth Saga, so we really do get invested in their fates.

Screenshot 2024-07-28 at 07.35.15John Long: The Secret History of Sharks John Long is an Australian palaeontologist interested in fossil fishes. Here he recounts the evolutionary history of sharks. Conventional wisdom has these iconic predators patrolling the seas pretty much unchanged for 400 million years. But a closer look shows that they have evolved in all sorts of interesting ways, morphing out of all the dangers and obstacles that the Earth has thrown at them. [DISCLAIMER: The author sent me a pre-publication version for a cover quote].

 

 

 

Screenshot 2024-07-28 at 07.36.47Brian Clegg: Brainjacking Disinformation. Misinformation. Misdirection. Personal Truths. Alternative Facts. Influencers. Product placement. Deepfakes. Stage magic. Advertising. Marketing. From the dawn of advertising to modern social media, we risk drowning in floods of information designed to change our minds — such is ‘brainjacking’. Brian Clegg explains the long history of brainjacking and shows that some of the purported effects are exaggerated, whereas others really should worry us. A plain-speaking guide to our modern post-truth world. [DISCLAIMER: The author sent me a pre-publication version for a cover quote].

Posted in Writing & Reading | Comments Off on What I Read In July

It Has Not Escaped Our Notice

UntitledI’ve long wanted to patronise this shop, but I’d have to disguise myself as a helpful Labrador.

Posted in Silliness | Comments Off on It Has Not Escaped Our Notice

This song has no title

Jenny has mentioned the non-existent summer.

It’s certainly been ‘variable’, with autumnal mornings and more than an inch of rain in 12 hours one day last week. I haven’t quite kept to my commitment to blog ‘about once a week or so’, although I’m quite pleased with my record this year.

Other variables have included Rhea, our ‘best hen’ who was so insistent we chose her when we collected her and Iris three years ago next month. She’s not laid one of her gorgeous blue-green eggs since May, and was off her feed and we really thought we were going to lose her. She’s perked up a bit, and although she still likes to sit with her eyes closed during the day, she does come running when she thinks there might be chance of  corn or mealworms.

Rhea

Joshua was keen to try cricket, so I signed him up to the local under 11s squad and he’s been going along after school on Monday evenings. I keep promising to give him some batting and bowling coaching but something always gets in the way.

Striding

Striding confidently to the wicket

The two of us went down to the woods this morning, but I’d forgotten my chainsaw trousers so we couldn’t coppice the stand of birch that’s been on my mind for some time now. On the upside, his air rifle skills are getting better and better,

So here I am, as the day rolls inexorably towards evening, thinking of our upcoming trip to Tuscany and trying to get in the mood with a rather fine red, while hoping the weather holds over there for the next month or so.

Grosseto

There’s some kind of sporting event on this evening and we’re going to a friend’s so the kids can watch TV while we drink beer.

On the whole, it could be worse.

Writing

And that reminds me–‘A momentary lapse of reason’ is approaching its denouement. Check it out at Lablit.

 

Posted in hens, Italy, Joshua, Me, offspring, weather, wibbling, wine | Comments Off on This song has no title

In which I dream of escape

Garden scene with flowers

Alternative reality?

Sometimes everything just seems too much. As the non-existent summer rolls on – 14C mornings of rain or overcast, wool sweaters taken back out from storage – I find my stress level to be the only thing heating up. As I prepare the course I lead for its next academic year, there are also manuscripts to edit, review articles to write, grants and papers to peer-review, interim reports to file for current grants, collaborations to tend, talks to compose, PhD upgrade reports and final dissertations to examine.

And above all the relentless admin: pushing research agreements and material transfer requests through a reluctant quagmire of legal bureaucracy, wrangling finances, applying for ethical approval, seeking reimbursement for business expenses – the thousand natural shocks that academic flesh is heir to, culminating inevitably in spiritual death by tedium. Physically, I am finding the commute increasingly difficult: my joints ache from the amount of miles I need to walk, and when I get home, I want nothing more than to lie down, without the energy for all the creative things I used to do.

I turned down a family outing to the woods to stay at home this morning, seeking some inner peace in the rare sunshine. Here on the back patio, solar fountains trickle, flowers bob in their containers – cosmos, zinnias, mallows, marigolds. Wind shushes in the tall trees, and the metallic tapping of beaks on feeders lets me know without having to look up that the sparrows and tits have forgotten I’m here, not a few yards away and only partially screened by the apricot tree sagging under its weight of rose-gold fruit.

Although the growing season has been severely retarded this year, all around me the crops are steadily progressing: tomatoes and tomatillos, strawberries and blueberries, chokeberries and blackberries, courgettes and pumpkins, runner beans and beets, carrots and lettuces, sweetcorn and kale, spinach and chard, potatoes and garlic. The greenhouses are home to cucumbers, chilli and celery, pots of fragrant herbs. The cherries, gooseberries and raspberries are past, but apples, pears, figs, plums, hops and cobnuts swell in the wings; grapes clusters hang heavy amid groping tendrils that seem to grow meters overnight. It is the time of year when you can breeze round the garden foraging for your breakfast or dinner, returning with handfuls of produce whose “food distance” is measured in feet and inches, not miles. Our girls are working hard, too: bees filling their clever waxy combs with nectar, hens laying their daily eggs.

I sometimes wonder what it would be like to end all this stress. Just to walk away from the job and do something else, something where the amount of effort you put in is reflected equally by what you get out, where the crushing uncertainty of whether you will get enough grants to carry on to the next phase is no longer relevant. Or even more extreme: taking early retirement, and being in the garden whenever I like.

I was chatting with some colleagues earlier in the week at a scientific conference, so I know that the idle fantasy of just stopping is almost universal, on and off, amongst academics of a certain age. What keeps me going is how long I have worked to be where I am, and how important the scientific cause is. I may be only a tiny cog turning on the fringes, and it may be a constant struggle for existence, but this wretched infection afflicting 400 million people a year is not going to just go away on its own. Grants-wise, I’m sorted for the next few years at least, with a good probability of new ones slotting in to take their places. I want to do what I can, for as long as I can, even if some weeks it feels like I’m going to break.

Posted in careers, Gardening, Research, Science Funding, staring into the abyss, The profession of science, work-life balance | Comments Off on In which I dream of escape

What I Read In June

UntitledBaoshu The Redemption of Time I generally don’t have time for fan fiction, but there’s fan fiction and fan fiction, and this one is of a superior sort. Baoshu (a pen name) is a fan, specifically of the cosmically successful Three-Body Problem trilogy by Cixian Liu (reviewed elsewhere in these pages). So much of a fan that he wrote an entire novel in the same universe, and received Cixian Liu’s blessing. The Redemption of Time will make no sense at all to anyone who hasn’t read the Three-Body trilogy, and not much more sense than that to anyone who’s seen the derivative televisual emission from Netflix but not read the books. To cut a very (very) long story short, The Redemption of Time starts with the experiences of Yun Tianming with the Trisolarans, after which he gets embroiled into an eternal cosmos-spanning war between two godlike powers — the Master and the Lurker — who fight one another by altering the dimensionality of spacetime. The Redemption of Time is (almost) as full of grand ideas as the Three-Body Problem although, given its scope, there is a lot more talk than action. Although the author cleverly ties up a few loose ends in the original, I was in the end more stupefied than edified. For diehard Three-Body fans only. Baoshu has since become an author of his own fiction, some of which features in …

UntitledKen Liu (ed.) Broken Stars After reading Invisible Planets, Ken Liu’s selection of contemporary Chinese science fiction (reviewed last month), I discovered a second anthology, containing one or two of the same authors, with a few more, and more stories overall. This time Liu is slightly more adventurous, featuring stories that contain more specifically Chinese themes that western readers will need either extra-SFnal knowledge (and footnotes) to unpack. In culinary terms, we’re getting away from chow mein and crispy duck into those parts of the menu that are only usually written in Chinese. And it’s all the more enjoyable for all that. The highlight for me was ‘The Snow of Jinyang’, by Zhang Ran, which is an example of a trope called  chuanyue, which is a distinctively Chinese take on the anachronisms that happen when people from different times are thrown together, in this case a modern-day person in tenth-century China. There are two stories from Han Song, which can be read as political satire. Names familiar to SinoSFphiles such as Baoshu (see above) and Xia Jia can be found, as well as authors with new and different voices. I enjoyed this very much. With Invisible Planets, this book is a great introduction to the vibrant world of SF from China.

UntitledWilliam Boyd: Restless I loved the LabLit of Brazzaville Beach. The faux-biography of Any Human Heart made my list of Best Reads last year. So notified, the younger Gees found me a few more from William Boyd for Christmas and my Birthday and this is one of those (I’m easy to buy for — books and liquorice allsorts will keep me happy). This one starts in the scorching summer of 1976 with Ruth Gilmartin, a twentysomething teacher of English as a Foreign Language living in Oxford, with a precocious five-year-old son from a disastrous relationship on the early seventies anarchist fringes of German academia. Ruth’s widowed mother Sal lives in a remote cottage in the Oxfordshire countryside and has been behaving very oddly of late. By way of explanation Sal gives Ruth a dossier — in easy-digest instalments — of a half-Russian woman called Eva Delectorskaya, born in Moscow, who was recruited to the British Secret Intelligence Services just before World War II, relating her escapades between 1938 and 1942. Eva is ‘run’ by the mysterious Lucas Romer. Ruth can hardly believe that Eva and her mother are the same person. Her mother has been living a lie all her life, and Ruth becomes part of it. But they have one final mission to accomplish. Hugely enjoyable.

UntitledPeter F. Hamilton: Pandora’s Star + Judas Unchained I was only a short way in to this audiobook when I realised I’d once read the dead-tree version. But perhaps that was all to the good — I remembered some arresting scenes from this immense SF blockbuster and was keen to revisit them. That, and the fact that I didn’t have to lift the thing, for Peter F. Hamilton tends to write at great length, and this book (with it’s sequel, Judas Unchained, basically the story’s continuation and conclusion) offered more than 70 hours of interstellar romps as I walked the dogs and did the daily round. That doesn’t mean he can’t write short stories when he wants to. I once commissioned a very short story from him, and the result, The Forever Kitten, is a delight. Reading it again now, I can see that it’s a kind of prequel to Pandora’s Star. This is a picture of humanity a few centuries hence when humans are kept forever young, and potentially immortal, by rejuvenation therapy. Those humans who can afford it, though, because society is dominated by a few ‘Grand Families’ and ‘Intersolar Dynasties’ that control what appears to be a stable plutocracy. As the story opens, humans have colonised hundreds of worlds, each linked — by railways! — through stable wormholes invented in the 21st century by two Californian techno-geeks. That’s when an astronomer on a backwater human planet spots a Dyson Sphere enclosing a faraway star. An expedition is sent to investigate, the Dyson Sphere mysteriously dematerialises, and all hell is let loose (the enclosed star is the Pandora’s box to which the title alludes). But there is a lot more to this story than that. Sure, there are enough space battles to sate the appetite of any space-opera fan, but there are also scads of sex, often taking place between impossibly beautiful people in luxurious and meticulously described interiors (Peter F. Hamilton must be the Jackie Collins of SF); lots of violent action; fabulously realised adventure sequences; suitably weird aliens; tortuous political intrigue; and a detective element that’s almost noir, featuring the genetically modified super-sleuth Paula Myo, who always gets her man, except in the one case that’s eluded her for nearly two centuries. Immersive SF fun for everyone.

UntitledKate Atkinson: Behind The Scenes at the Museum Even if you’d never heard of Kate Atkinson (I hadn’t, until recently) you’ll have definitely come across Life after Life, her terrific and fantastical novel that featured in my best-of selection of 2021, and adapted recently as a televisual emission. Behind The Scenes at the Museum was her debut. It concerns the life of Ruby Lennox (b. 1952), born to her uncaring mother Bunty while her father George was up the pub chatting up another woman. It features flashbacks to events in Ruby’s maternal ancestry from the end of the nineteenth century when Ruby’s great-grandmother Alice runs off with a travelling French photographer, and charts the family’s ups and downs through the turbulent twentieth century. The straitened, conventional life of an ordinary Yorkshire family is presented in stark detail, especially how stifling social conventions completely drain any hope of a fulfilling life from women. Don’t think it’s dour and preachy, because it isn’t — it’s a roaring great tragicomedy, with some wonderful set-pieces, such as the family holiday in which everything that can possibly go wrong, goes wrong; and the bit-of-a-do Yorkshire wedding that happens to be held during the World Cup Final of 1966, well, goes the same way. Ruby’s narration of her mother’s life while she, Ruby, is still in the womb, reminded me of a sentence in Peter Ustinov’s autobiography Dear Me that has a similarly in utero perspective. ‘I went to visit my mother’s gynaecologist’, he wrote. ‘My mother came with me as I was too young to go on my own’. Behind The Scenes has the same humour, sparkling wit, deft phrasing, and  rewarding richness.

Posted in Writing & Reading | Comments Off on What I Read In June

Sunny Afternoon

What do you do with 6 lbs cherries?

Actually, that’s quite an easy problem, compared with the years we’ve had nearly 30 lbs from the tree at the back of the garden. It’s an old tree, and I’ve put the apiary by it—partly because despite the size of the garden there’s not actually much room for beehives, and partly because the tree is covered in ivy that is mature enough to flower and give the bees an autumn feast—and most years it produced far more than we can use, or even harvest. It keeps the blackbirds fed, though.

Anyway, I went out this evening and collected a bowlful of cherries to add to the mound we’ve had in the fridge since the weekend, as well as some strawberries and raspberries and blueberries. And then I made jam from the bowl of cherries that was already in the fridge.

Fruit

I sometimes wonder if I miss lab work. In a way, the kitchen is my new lab, with tried and tested protocols but also new experiments and things to try. I guess formally I am testing new hypotheses all the time, although really they all boil down to the one null hypothesis ‘this is not jaw-droppingly delicious’, that, in all modesty, I disprove all the time. Apart from that, and the mindset of changing one variable at a time (um, maybe) and writing things down (sorry, Jenny), there’s not much in the kitchen that resembles the labs I’ve worked in.

Except for cellophane.

Cellophane was, and still is, the bane of my existence.

In the lab (particularly in Cambridge) we used to preserve protein gels between sheets of cellophane. We’d get everything nice and moist (ooer), sandwich the polyacrylamide gel between two layers of cellophane, then stretch the whole thing in a wooden clamp and leave to air dry.

The first few times you did this (and randomly thereafter) something would go dreadfully wrong and you’d be left with a shattered mess of blue stripes and sadly crinkled gel. But when it did work, it was a fantastic way of preserving experimental data, and perhaps even better than drying gels down on filter paper (and probably less environmentally unfriendly, too)—especially as drying gels was no guarantee not to end up with exploded blue acrylamide messes.

Which brings me back to jam.

Sealing jam under cellophane covers is an ancient tradition that keeps nasty germs out and I hate it. When it works, it’s great. But getting it to work—stopping it curling and getting the tiny elastic band over so that there’s a skirt all the way round so that you can tighten it nicely and the whole thing doesn’t poing into a sad tangled mess—reminds me of the lab more than anything else.

Jam

But the jam is jaw-droppingly delicious, even if I do say so myself.

Posted in cherries, Don't try this at home, jam, magirism, protein gels, War stories, wibbling | Comments Off on Sunny Afternoon

Our House

It’s not just the wrens.

This is Shorty.

Bobbin

Photo by Jenny

Shorty is a year-old robin, one of the expanding family that lives in the shaggy old laurel tree out the front, and together with his (or her—difficult to tell with robins) parents/sibs, hops around hoping for us to dig up some tasty worms or bugs, or failing that, accidentally on-purpose spill some chicken feed as I bring it out in the morning.

Shorty appears to be missing what I thought was an essential part of being a bird, viz. a tail. Actually there’s no ‘appears’ about it. We’ve no idea if this was through some accident, or a close encounter with a crow or cat or other embodiment of evil, but Shorty doesn’t have one.

This absence doesn’t appear to bother him, although he does wobble a bit when alighting on a handy plant pot or other perch (canonically it should be a spade handle of course, but I’m very good about putting them away after use. He seems to prefer the woodshed by the kitchen door).

And like the rest of the family, Shorty is quite bold. Perhaps the boldest of them all. He’ll sit atop the woodshed as I do chicken business in the morning, quite content to wait until I’ve finished (and dropped the usual accidentally on-purpose pellets, naturally). On occasion, apparently wiser of his kin have sat up in the buddleia, tic-tic-ticking at him to come away, be more careful, while he and I have a little chat down by the hen house.

Yesterday, Shorty flew into the conservatory. We had both doors open, and all the greenery must have looked quite inviting. I grabbed a handful of chicken feed and gently walked around behind him until he got the hint and flew out the door. I distributed the feed around his usual perches, and he seemed to accept the apology.

In other news, I started a new job a dozen days ago. So that’s nice, too.

Posted in bird, birds, Gardening, Me, robin, Shorty | Comments Off on Our House

Role Models for Girls?

Recently I received an email from a young girl (aged 8 and a half, as she signed herself off, with overtones of Adrian Mole) complaining about the lack of representation of women in STEM. As she says ‘If you want to be in science you need to see yourself represented.’ – a view heard often, but it is interesting that a pre-teen has already worked this out and sees it as a problem. It is always a pleasure to receive a note of thanks for the work I do and have done around the whole question of women in STEM, and particularly so when it becomes apparent it is reaching readers of essentially all ages.

For someone of that age, there are increasing numbers of books describing women from the past who made significant contributions in science aimed at young children. Very often these are about Marie Curie and, as I discuss at some length in my book, I am not sure she is the best role model since her life was so extreme. Is it likely to be attractive to a young girl to hear of someone who was consigned to a cold outhouse for her research, simply because she was a woman? The trouble is, most women from the past who ‘made’ it had so many challenges to overcome that I wonder if any of them make good role models. There are those who weren’t able to get to university till they were relatively mature because their fathers forbade it; those who never got past being an assistant or unpaid because, well that’s just how it was for women in their day. Even for Nobel Prize winners like Barbara McClintock, who did her main research for love not (any) money.

These really aren’t the images I’d like an eight-year-old to take away about how science is done. Rosalind Franklin – another woman whose life story can readily be found in children’s books – had a rubbish time with her colleagues and died tragically young. Also a bit of a downer of a life story. For Jocelyn Bell Burnell, people seemed to think her engagement was worth more of a celebration than her discovery of pulsars. That discovery was anyhow not rewarded with a Nobel Prize for her personally: it went to her supervisor Anthony Hewish and his colleague Martin Ryle. When Dorothy Hodgkin did win the Nobel Prize (still the only British woman to do so), in 1964, the Daily Mail celebrated this triumph with the headline “Oxford housewife wins Nobel“. Again, not a very positive message to give a young girl.

It is not irrelevant that, as late as 2018, laser scientist and Nobel Prize winner Donna Strickland remarked that she wanted the story to be about her science not her sex. Surely in the 21st century we have reached a point where it ought to be possible for the science to come first, rather than ‘oh look, here’s a woman who is quite successful’. Yet we still do not seem to have got there. Young girls may not be inspired by the typical emphasis on gender, not success, for women in the world of science.

As we look to a possible change of Government, it would be nice to think that we might see some better (female) role models appearing in the national curriculum, coupled with a national curriculum that actually needs to be followed by all state schools; currently academies can opt out. The former was a recommendation that Greg Clark’s Commons enquiry into Diversity in STEM made, but to no effect (at least as yet). It would be interesting to draw up a list of potential role models to include. Using Nobel Prize winners might be one option, a clear label of ‘success’ that would distinguish the Donna Strickland’s of this world in a way an eight (or indeed eighteen) year old could understand.

On the other hand, the fundamental flaw in the way these awards are made, so that team science is not rewarded, just that illustrious but generally illusory lone genius, does not reflect the primary way of doing science in the 21st century. Recognizing that collaboration is an important part of progress in science, that it’s OK to enjoy interactions and often that’s not only the best but the only way of making progress, is a fact that the Nobel’s continue to ignore by their way of doing things. Given that the Peace Prize is often given to groups (think of the IPCC in 2077), it’s not immediately obvious that the terms of Alfred Nobel’s will actually forbid awarding one of the science prizes to a group, although that is the argument typically advanced. I believe that the ongoing failure to recognize the importance of collaboration in science by the Nobel committee is detrimental to science itself. We know in our universities, promotion is often likewise based simply on an individual’s contribution rather than the part they play in collaborative science, and this too is a major problem. Although everyone is happy to believe that excellence in science should be rewarded, why should team science not be ‘excellent’ (of course it is!) and hence get the accolades?

To return to the eight-year-old girl I mentioned at the start, as she grows up what will attract or deter her from following her current dreams? Our schools should think much harder about this, as should the committees that make decisions about promotions and prizes for later years. Only when this happens will she be able to see ‘people like her’ represented across the board, encouraging her that she does belong in whichever field she chooses.

Posted in Barbara McClintock, Donna Strickland, education, Marie Curie, national curriculum, Women in science | Comments Off on Role Models for Girls?

It Has Not Escaped Our Notice

Thanks to our correspondent Mr K. Z. of High Barnet for this one seen in a shop window in Abergavenny.
PXL_20240602_132952273

Comments Off on It Has Not Escaped Our Notice