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What I Read In October

Thomas Peermohamed Lambert: Shibboleth A campus novel for the febrile age of social media warfare, Peermohamed skewers the modern obsession with identity politics, and how intellectually overstuffed but emotionally immature undergraduates exploit modish ideas of Diversity and Inclusion for their own ends, going to ridiculous lengths to claim that they belong, however tenuously, to some exploited minority (just as long as it’s not the Jews). It’s not Kingsley Amis or Malcolm Bradbury, to be sure, but then we live in less innocent times.

Elizabeth Bear: Ancestral Night Haimey Dz spends her working life cruising the galaxy for salvage. But when she and her crew find signs of interstellar genocide, she gets embroiled in a cat-and-mouse game with space pirates, who seem to know more about her own identity than she does herself. An entertaining modern space opera, full of exotic aliens, chthonic megastructures and mind-blasting physics.

Eliezer Yudkowsky & Nate Soares: If Anyone Builds It Everyone Dies My review for this book got so long that it demanded its own spot. So here it is.

Florence Knapp The Names In the aftermath of the Great Storm of 1987, Cora, ex-ballerina and mother of two, is on her way to register the name of her newborn son. But what should she call him? Her husband insists that he be Gordon — his own name, and that of his father. She, in contrast, rather fancies Julian. Her nine-year-old daughter Maia favours Bear. What follows is a three-way sliding-doors novel exploring the consequences of each of these choices. It sounds fun and fluffy, but it’s not. If like me you are appalled by the very thought of domestic violence (and how common it is) then this will be a difficult if excellent read.

Richard Osman The Impossible Fortune Yes, the Man on the Telly is at it again, with yet another whodunit featuring the ageing sleuths from the Thursday Murder Club. If you’ve read any of his others you’ll know what to expect: pin-sharp plotting affectionately wrapped in warm humour.

Mick Herron Slow Horses I had heard of this from a televisual adaptation (which I have not seen). The ‘Slow Horses’ are MI5 agents who, as a result of errors professional or personal find themself exiled to the dispiriting Slough House, a sin-bin in which they are condemned to a life of pointless paper-shuffling by the Jabbaesque Jackson Lamb. But a plot by a group of extremists to behead their hostage on the internet brings the Slow Horses in from the cold. Well-written if slow in places, Slow Horses is less about MI5 than the narcissism of management in any large. sclerotic organisation. Unlike some other spy-thriller writers, the author has no direct experience of spook work, though he knows a thing or two about the dead hand of HR.

Michael Bond Animate In this robust raspberry to human exceptionalism, Michael Bond shows that the lengths to which people have gone to justify our exalted estate only point up our close relationship with the animals with whom we share this planet. [DISCLAIMER: I was sent this by the publisher for San endorsement].

Mick Herron Dead Lions Slower horses.

 

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Who’s Afraid of Artificial Intelligence?

What follows is a review of Eliezer Yudkowsky & Nate Soares: If Anyone Builds It Everyone Dies – it was going to be part of my monthly book blog but the review got so long I felt it should have a place all of its very own. So here it is.

This is the best book I wish I had never read. Written by two experts  in Artificial Intelligence (AI) research, it makes a very persuasive case that advanced Artificial Intelligence (AI) could produce a program whose interests would differ fundamentally from ours, and wipe us out. This could happen very soon — within a few years.

At the core of the AI issue is something called the Alignment Problem. That is, the task of developing an AI with goals that align with our own. This, however, is very hard to do, because AIs are not crafted, but grown. AIs are computer programs that take inputs (vast quantities of information) and outputs (language, speech, solutions to scientific problems, and so on) separated by many layers of processing whose parameters can be tweaked by training the AI to provide the desired outcome.

Perhaps the most famous example of an AI is ChatGPT,  which can produce rich and detailed responses  to simple requests. For example, I asked ChatGPT to ‘recast the argument between Donald Trump and Elon Musk as a scene from a play by William Shakespeare’. The result you can see here.

There may be trillions of  parameters in the many layers of the AI opera cake, and during each training run they are modified by ‘weights’, of which there are also many trillions. It is beyond the capacity of mere human beings to catalogue all the parameters and weights, and impossible to understand the relationship between the input, the changing combination of parameters and weights, and the output.

This is perhaps not surprising. AIs emerged from neural networks, which in turn emerged from models of the visual cortex, a layered structure of the brain that turns nerve impulses from the eyes into images. It’s now possible, for example, to isolate neurons that detect features of a scene, such as edges — but we still don’t fully understand what associates a particular pattern of neural firing with the detection of an edge, or any other feature of a scene. And if such seemingly fundamental aspects of neuronal processing remain elusive, it’s no surprise that we cannot understand how a particular pattern of firing in the brain translates as, say, Swann’s memory of dipping a madeleine into his tea. If the structure of AIs is modelled on the visual cortex, then, it follows what really goes on in the murky region between the inputs of an AI and its outputs defies understanding.

This situation is absolutely ripe for unintended consequences. One might, for example, design an AI to elicit happy and satisfied responses from human participants (customers, friends on social media, business contacts). These responses feed back into the AI, which might seek to elicit happy outcomes from anything, irrespective of whether it is human. It might, for example, be happier when fed random strings of rubbish. In which case human involvement becomes irrelevant. This is an example of a misaligned AI. There are already examples of AIs that exhibit unanticipated or ‘weird’ behaviour (Yudkowsky and Soares list some). In some circumstances, AIs give the results users want to hear, even if the advice is illogical or even dangerous.

Screenshot 2025-11-01 at 10.24.45

A dangerously sycophantic AI. Recently.

There are increasing reports of AIs that cheat, lie, blackmail, deliberately underperform, and even (in one laboratory test) plot the murder of a human being that wishes to turn them off. It is no great leap, then, to imagine the creation of an AI capable of subverting human intentions entirely to the extent that humanity is driven to extinction.

The authors are coy about how this might happen (though they do offer some scenarios). End results, they say, may be inevitable, even if the precise path towards that end is unpredictable. For example, if you play chess against Stockfish, currently the world’s best chess program, you will almost certainly lose, though the precise moves you and Stockfish make are not predictable. So, extinction might start with a perfect storm of factors, including blackmail, extortion and espionage, and progress to the kinds of massive cyber-attacks that corporations are experiencing with increasing frequency (causing a great deal of human disruption and hardship). It’s not hard to imagine the disruption a rogue AI could do to power grids, air-traffic control, banking systems and so on in our increasingly networked, fragile and non-linear world, and, with a little imagination, biological laboratories. Would an AI need a human catspaw for things like this? Not necessarily — it would be easy to imagine a video call in which the research director of a lab asks their scientists to create certain chemicals or strings of DNA or contagious viruses, but the research director is in fact an AI-generated deepfake. All this should be quite enough to give anyone the willies, but Yudkowsky and Soares go a bit overboard here (and so damage their credibility to those of us not used to apocalyptic SF)  with invocations of AIs using molecule-by-molecule nano-engineering of ribosomes and scenarios in which a rogue super-AI boils away the Earth’s oceans and strip-mines the entire Solar System for energy and computational substrate, before heading off into the Galaxy.

This book was published hardly a month ago, and most of the advances in AI research they cite are no more than a year or two old. Progress in AI research is happening at amazing speed, so it is entirely possible that we’ll start to see such rogue events very soon, if they haven’t started already. The authors compare AI development to nuclear weapons, and advocate the kinds of treaties and safeguards that have kept the world from nuclear war, including regular inspection, legal sanction, and even use of military force to bomb rogue data centres. They could have cited the American bombing of Iranian nuclear weapons laboratories using 30,000-pound ‘bunker busters’, the most powerful conventional weapons that exist, but perhaps this occurred after the book went to press.

There are alternative views, however. Some think that the risks posed by AI are overhyped. Others feel that although AIs might indeed do a lot of damage, it might not be quite as apocalyptic as Yudkowsky and Soares claim. There are many precedents for techno-doom that never came to pass. Back in the 1968, Paul Ehrlich’s book The Population Bomb predicted that overpopulation would lead to famine and civilisational threat within a decade. In the 1990s, nanotechnology was going to create self-replicating nanobots that would turn everything into grey goo. The turn of the year 2000 didn’t witness devastation wrought by a Millennium Virus. Yudkowsky and Soares’ book seems very much in that Doom-Scrolling tradition. It has the same febrile, heightened tone as Ehrlich’s, even closing with a plea to protest, and lobby elected representatives. This doesn’t mean that it’s wrong of course. In the end, the boy who cried ‘wolf’ was right.

The  book has had decidedly mixed reviews (it gets slaughtered in The Atlantic). However, an increasing number of people feel that even if it’s not likely to kill us all, AI is too hot to handle and should be better regulated, yet hardly dare speak frankly about it in case they either frighten people into inaction or get fired. In the end I felt a sense of despair and helplessness. Yudkowsky and Soares’ parting shot, assuring us that ‘where there’s life there’s hope’ rang kind of hollow. However, they do say that people lived under the shadow of nuclear annihilation for the entire Cold War and still got on with their ordinary lives. My wife’s motto is ‘Not Dead Yet’, which I remind her is a great motto. but a lousy epitaph.

Posted in Artificial Intelligence, Soares, Writing & Reading, Yudkowsky | Comments Off on Who’s Afraid of Artificial Intelligence?

About LinkedIn

I’m a member of my local U3A branch’s social media group. A few of us meet regularly to learn about social media and associated topics, taking turns to present. This week I gave a talk about LinkedIn. I don’t really consider myself an expert but I’ve been on it since 2006 so I have some knowledge of and views about it. It was a chance for me to reflect on the platform and my use (and non-use) of it, and to explore its history and how it is distinctive.

LinkedIn logo

Introduction to LinkedIn

In some ways LinkedIn is just like other social media platforms: members have a profile and they can post stuff. But in addition LinkedIn has a defined purpose. Its mission is:

To connect the world’s professionals, so 
they can be more productive and successful

I think this sets it apart from other general social media sites.

It’s not the biggest social media platform but it is substantial. Launched in 2003 it has nearly 1 billion users across more than 200 countries and territories.  300 million of those are classed as ‘monthly active users’. In its basic form it is free to use, but you can pay for a premium subscription. Since 2016 LinkedIn has been owned by Microsoft.

The biggest reason for using it is job seeking/recruiting, with knowledge sharing/professional networking a close second. Businesses and freelancers use it to advertise and reach customers. It’s also used for data mining.

You are probably already a user of LinkedIn, or at least have an account there. One estimate said that there are 45 million users in the UK, which I find hard to believe.

Jobs

I have posted job vacancies on LinkedIn, but never used it to look for jobs myself. A couple of times I’ve been contacted through LinkedIn by job agencies. I think the premium subscriptions can be useful if you’re seriously jobhunting, giving you additional features and communication options. For recruiters too there is a premium service that would be worth it if you are hiring frequently.

One source says that 65 million people search for jobs on LinkedIn each week and there are more than 12 million applications through the site daily. Over three million new hires each year owe something to LinkedIn. The number of job adverts on LinkedIn is ever-changing, but I’ve read one estimate that there are 14 million open jobs there. I’ve also read that up to 60% of job postings there may be fake, so be warned.

Data mining

Some people use LinkedIn for data mining, either by simple web-scraping or by paying for access to the LinkedIn API.  You can use it for  general market research, trend analysis or competitor analysis, or for lead generation. The huge volume of data in LinkedIn also attracts academic researchers. I heard a very interesting talk from someone who’d carried out diversity research using LinkedIn data (eg proportion of women working in IT).

The users

Who are the site’s users? There are personal accounts (individual users) and corporate accounts (businesses).  It is reported that 57% of LinkedIn users are male and 43% are female.  Nearly 60% are aged 25-34, and 78% are outside the USA. Plenty more statistics are available about the geographical spread and extent of usage in different industries.

Knowledge sharing – your timeline – the algorithm

Your profile on LinkedIn is closely tied with your professional profile and employer, so there’s a strong incentive to behave. In my experience people on LinkedIn are reasonably well-behaved, but your mileage may vary.  Much genuinely useful and interesting information is shared, though sometimes it comes across as ‘look at me’ or ‘hire me!’ or ‘buy my product’. Posts about career milestones (promotions, new jobs etc) will usually generate many congratulatory comments that are more about social connection than anything else.

There are also groups – these are sometimes linked with real world groups. They can help you to reach beyond your immediate network.

Your timeline is created partly by who you follow and partly by the LinkedIn algorithm. That’s a recommendation system that decides which posts appear in each user’s news feed.  It filters and ranks content so that your feed is filled with posts that are interesting and relevant to you. It doesn’t have the problems associated with some other platforms  and LinkedIn explicitly says the platform “is not designed for virality”. I think that’s very important.

Sourcegeek says there are three main elements to the algorithm:

Components of the LinkedIn algorithm

Screenshot

If you want advice on how to get better engagement on LinkedIn you can read a 123-page report about the algorithm, full of tips.

LinkedIn and me

I joined LinkedIn in 2006, just because it seemed like something worth exploring and various people I knew had joined. It had a very pushy email invite system back then so it was hard to avoid. Once a few people in your circle had joined up you kept receiving invitations to join up too. I’m not sure if they still do all of that.

I wasn’t looking to change job so actually I used it very little at first. At some point I noticed that people were posting announcements and small articles. Some of these generated comments, even discussions, so LinkedIn became a place I visited to read stuff. Much more recently the changes at Twitter/X pushed more people to post content on LinkedIn instead of Twitter.

For me, with interests in research libraries, scholarly publishing, research culture, workplace wellbeing and DEI, I’ve found LinkedIn has plenty of content of interest.

I also use it to find out about people. Quite often when I search a person’s name in a general search engine their LinkedIn profile is among the top results. The profiles on LinkedIn include educational background and work experience, and the profile summary for a person highlights their recent posts and comments on LinkedIn so it’s good for giving you a quick impression of who they are.

LinkedIn is a successful business

Its three main income streams are adverts, premium personal subscriptions and recruiter subscriptions. It was expected to generate $6.79 billion through advertising in 2024. It generated $17.1 billion revenue in 2024, an increase of 8.6% year-on-year.

It has grown from a small site that let you post your CV online into a large multifaceted website. Here are a few significant mileposts in its development.

  • 2003: Professional profiles – showcase your work history, education, skills
  • 2004: Company pages – Businesses could create pages
  • 2008: Groups –  focused on professional topics or networks
  • 2012: Publishing platform – publish your own long-form posts
  • 2013: LinkedIn Endorsements – recognise your connections‘ skills
  • 2017: Video upload – Native video hosting
  • 2019: Stories –  short-form content sharing
  • 2021: Audio clips –  share bite-sized voice messages
  • 2022: Virtual events toolkit – templates and guidance for hosting

Boring but sensible

At our meeting someone commented that it had a reputation of being a bit boring, and I guess that’s true – it doesn’t court controversy and users tend to be focused on their work and professional interests to a large degree.  But that is also its secret strength I think.

Posted in linkedin, Social networking | Comments Off on About LinkedIn

Civic Responsibilities

Innovate Cambridge Summit 2025 The University Vice Chancellor Debbie Prentice, with Lord Patrick Vallance and Minister Pennycook at this week’s Innovate Cambridge Summit

This week saw various significant announcements for and from the University of Cambridge, the Cambridge region and the wider so-called Ox-Cam Corridor. Starting with the last, £500M has been pledged for investment in new homes, infrastructure and business space by the Government for the Oxford to Cambridge Growth Corridor. Most of this money is coming to the Cambridge city region. Improving local infrastructure (housing, water and transport in particular) is vital if growth is to be possible. Those in the north of England may wonder why Cambridge is favoured but, as Minister Pennycook stated clearly at this week’s Innovate Cambridge Summit, the Government sees the Corridor as crucial in being able to stimulate the economy of the whole UK. Or, as Lord Vallance (also present this week) is quoted in the Government’s press release:

‘These investments are a milestone, not just for the Oxford to Cambridge Corridor, but for the entire country. We are going to deliver the housing, amenities and infrastructure that businesses need to grow and that people need to flourish. This region has all the ingredients to be the UK’s answer to Silicon Valley or the Boston Cluster: somewhere that turns world-class innovation into economic growth the whole nation benefits from.’

Within this new money, £15M has been put aside for an innovation hub to drive growth, alongside the necessary infrastructure. In terms of innovation, money was also committed earlier this summer to develop the Cambridge x Manchester Innovation Partnership – the first trans-UK innovation collaboration of its kind – funded with £4.8M from Research England, so that there is a direct connection  between the Cambridge city region and Manchester, one vehicle to ensure the north of England does receive some benefit. Both the University of Cambridge and the University of Manchester are committing further funds of their own to this enterprise.

The Innovate Cambridge Summit covered these plans and much more. One key message that has sat at the heart of the work of Innovate Cambridge since its start is the importance of inclusion. That Cambridge is the most unequal city in the country was highlighted by many speakers during the day, with a call for action to make sure that innovation and growth benefit the whole community. The Cambridge Pledge, an initiative driven by Innovate Cambridge, is a shared commitment to channel wealth and innovation into lasting social good: companies that create wealth in the city through innovation are called upon to pledge some of their future profits.

For many Cambridge residents, the University may seem a remote, forbidding organisation not accessible to people ‘like them’, and who probably don’t expect the inequalities they face every day to go away any time soon. In an important new venture, the University is aiming to change both the perception and the reality for the whole community. The day before the Innovation Summit, the University had launched its Civic Framework, which is the outcome of a ‘listening exercise’ conducted over the past months. When asked to describe the University in three words, the most common words local residents used were historic, prestigious and excellence, but also and less attractively, elite. There was a range of other worryingly negative words such as arrogant, remote, exclusive and entitled. Nearly half the respondents felt the University did badly at communicating its research.

Under the banner People, Place, Partnership: Civic priorities for the University of Cambridge the University pledges to improve with four underpinning civic principles:

  • Equity, inclusion and belonging;
  • Collaboration and mutual benefit;
  • Transparency and learning
  • Sustainable impact

Of course the proof of the pudding will be in the delivery. In three years’ time, will local residents be more inclined to use words such as inclusive and transparent rather than exclusive and remote?

I have argued before (and also here and here) that universities have a responsibility for training youth who are not aiming at university, but perhaps at something technical and/or vocational. I am delighted to see that amongst the actions the University is proposing under its Civic Missions is one to develop skills including youth opportunities. Opening up its training programmes to more apprentices – whether they end up working in the University or elsewhere in the local innovation ecosystem – strikes me as a minimal action the University can take. Ensuring that T-Level students have the necessary placement is another ‘easy’ step. Academics and staff who have the charisma to inspire the young in the less advantaged areas around the city region, not just the city schools themselves, need to get out more to share their love for their discipline or work more generally. It is not sufficient to run a Festival of Ideas that local middle-class families attend, fun and thought-provoking though that may be, but the net must be cast far more widely.

If transport links around the city really do improve, we can hope to see easier access into the city from Fenland villages, where job opportunities may be scant, so it becomes all the more important that training opportunities are available within the University, and that this fact becomes widely known. Of course, it’s not just the University of Cambridge. Anglia Ruskin University is already active in this area. I hope – from the discussions held earlier this year – more local companies will feel able to take on such youth training opportunities, facilitated by the Opportunities Hub that is being set up through Cambridge University Health Partners which aims to cover this strand and much more. Some funding has been obtained to get this initiative under way.

It is encouraging that the University is focussing on its civic responsibilities. I look forward to seeing both the local economy flourish and infrastructure improve as the OxCam Corridor funding flows in, and the local youth feeling included in the benefits that derive from the investment.

Posted in apprentices, careers, Equality, inequality, Innovate Cambridge, Patrick Vallance, transparency | Comments Off on Civic Responsibilities

Mrs Handley and the Whippets (Learning to be Difficult)

No, not the name of a pop-group (although it might be quite a good one), but an episode from my early life. In later life I’m sure people had me in the category of those difficult women I wrote about last week, but by and large at school I was a goody-goody who (as my mother continued to say long after I’d become a professor) couldn’t say boo to a goose. I was, in general, not one for breaking school rules, unlike those who will remain nameless who put potassium permanganate in our school’s water tank, or who were constantly disruptive in the classroom. However, just occasionally, I found the backbone to tackle what I thought was unfair behaviour on the part of the teaching staff. The occasion with Mrs Handley and her whippets was one such occasion.

Carol Handley was, at the time, deputy head of my secondary school, Camden School for Girls. She later became Head of the School before retiring to Cambridge (sadly, I never met her in the city, and only discovered around the time of her death that she had been a Fellow at Wolfson College. Her husband, Eric Handley, had been the Regius Professor of Greek). She taught classics, although she never taught me.

The episode I’m referring to occurred one day in May many years ago when many of us, so-called fifth years, were about to take our O Levels (the GCSE’s of the day). We were feeling disgruntled. We had just been told we would not, as was the norm and as we had expected, be able to revise at home between our different exams but would have to come into school for lessons. I was clearly not the only one who felt very put out by this announcement. I suspect, being the nerdy swot I was (think of how Hermione Granger tackled revision), I probably had a neatly drawn up schedule of when I would revise what: the need to be sure I knew the appropriate chemical reactions and could tell a gerund from a gerundive (neither of which I would like to be tested on now). My diary of the time simply says ‘we got all the 5th formers together’ and went to see Mrs Handley.

All the 5th formers would have been approaching a hundred pupils, so I’m sure that’s an overstatement but still, a lot of us went find her in some classroom, and my memory is that I was the ring-leader, although that’s not written down precisely in my childish script. With her was – unusually, I don’t ever recall another appearance of a dog in the school – a sick whippet, which clearly was too ill to have been left at home and was sitting in a small basket on the desk at the front of the class (I suspect both her whippets were involved, but only one was unwell). We argued the case to her that we would all accomplish more revision quietly by ourselves at home, rather than dragging ourselves into the school for a teacher to decide collectively what we were in most need of thinking about. My diary notes ‘she is on our side now’.

However, the next time we saw our form teacher she was livid. (Incidentally, she was also a classicist, although again not one who taught me; we must have had a lot of Latin teachers in our school at the time, given everyone did Latin from arriving at the school at 11, although I think doing it at O Level probably wasn’t compulsory). ‘Irresponsible’ she said, particularly given the sick whippet. Why the latter was relevant I’m not sure, since we did it no harm, were not rowdy and did not shout. Nor did it seem to bother Mrs Handley at the time, but apparently by this point the furore had escalated to the head teacher, Doris Burchell (head 1946-68), who was now ‘against us’.

A couple of days later, a suitable compromise was found: we didn’t get the full time away from school we’d initially expected, but we got three more days than the interim plan had proposed. I suppose everyone could feel they’d won. I never felt Mrs Handley held this against me – in due course she was extremely helpful to me in a very different situation, but that’s not my story to tell. I’m sure I felt we, collectively, had done the right thing and that gathering everyone together to put our case calmly and on good didactic grounds had been totally responsible, despite what our form teacher claimed.

I’m not sure if that encouraged me to become stroppier. On the whole I continued in my nerdish way, but the next year I had occasion to make a different fuss which had zero didactic basis. I felt, in this episode, the school was being unfair and unreasonable and I took them to task over what felt like the illogicality of their position. These school-years of mine were at the height of the mini-skirt craze, and the school had rules about what length our skirts (no trousers; such a thing was never even considered) our uniform had to be. I can’t remember what the answer was, I didn’t have either the thighs or the daring to go for the shortest of skirts, but it was clear they thought longer was better. However, when I and one other girl turned up in a maxi coat, essentially floor length, this was deemed unsuitable and ‘against the rules’.

By this point I was in the sixth form doing A Levels, and we didn’t have to wear uniform at all, so that in the first instance this felt a bit odd anyhow. However, I can imagine on health and safety grounds (although such a phrase was not in common parlance back then), long skirts in a lab – where of course I spent quite a lot of my time – might have been thought a hazard. But this was a coat, worn solely to get me to and from school. What risk was there in that? What rule were they suddenly inventing to stop me wearing this coat I was so proud of? (I was so proud of it, I loved it dearly, that I only got rid of it a few years ago once the moths had had a good chew, although I rarely wore it in the relatively recent past). I argued the toss – and won. This felt like a jobsworth kind of unconsidered reaction to something unexpected, and I think they swiftly realised that they did not have a leg to stand on.

So, despite my mother’s attestations to my teenage son that I couldn’t say boo to a goose, at least until my 20’s, that clearly wasn’t quite accurate. Push me too far and I could be forceful. That does not mean that I take kindly to the phrase, said to me all too often, that I’m ‘not a shrinking violet’. Both my last two posts touch on the words and phrased directed at women in pejorative tones, and my (and I suspect many women’s) dislike of phrases such as that, or being described as feisty was raised in many of my conversations at the WISE conference. Being a forceful woman (not aggressive, just assertive) is a perfectly fine way to act. As a teenager I was just practicing, and probably not often enough.

Posted in Camden School for Girls, careers, feisty, teenagers, Women in science | Comments Off on Mrs Handley and the Whippets (Learning to be Difficult)

Difficult Women

Behave Badly Pin Badge – Curating Cambridge

Tributes poured in following the death of Jane Goodall, with stories of her remarkable life and doings, the way she set out new paths in research and lived a different kind of life. The quoted remark of hers that most struck me was

“It doesn’t take much to be considered a difficult woman. That’s why there are so many of us.”,

although there has subsequently been a debunking of the attribution. Nevertheless, I suspect that it is in the spirit of things she might have said, given interviews of her I have seen.

For me, that first sentence certainly rings true. Although few men of my acquaintance would admit to the fact they like women to know their place quietly in the background, I nevertheless think somehow that’s what many men around the world expect. It is just one aspect of that pernicious habit we all have of stereotyping. The trad wife may be having something of a revival, at least on the other side of the Atlantic, but will be little seen in academia: you’re not going to survive long in the cut-and-thrust world of research if you choose to fade into the background and merely bring in the cakes for celebratory teas. But there may still be an expected element of ‘yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir’ said to the head of a team (who is statistically likely to be male), still, in almost all scientific disciplines.

There are a number of other notable women who have made this same point about being difficult in different spheres, probably far more than I know of and covering centuries. Let me just give a few not-so-distant examples. Laurel Thatcher Ulrich is a Harvard Professor of early American history, who used the phrase ‘well-behaved women seldom make history’ in an article she wrote, back in 1976. The phrase took on a life of its own, according to her, and she subsequently expanded on it in her book of the same title. In 2019 she reflected on this in a fascinating essay, casting the sentiment back to a poem published by Anne Bradstreet in 1650 (published in London, although she was a colonialist New England poet). Bradstreet wrote:

I am obnoxious to each carping tongue Who says my hand a needle better fits, …..

In other words, get back to your sewing, woman.

Moving forward to a period I lived through, let me highlight another woman, like Jane Goodall, sadly missed, Lisa Jardine. I only met her a couple of times, but she was another force of nature who, when she became the first female fellow at Jesus College in Cambridge in 1976, created badges which said ‘behave badly’. These she would give out to colleagues, such as Jane Tillier, the first woman Lay Chaplain to be appointed at the College in 1984, exhorting them not to go about their business quietly.

Of course, in our current political world, there is the example of Jess Phillips, famously pugnacious, who says of herself

‘I’m tough in most situations and I’m not afraid to speak back at people if they’re having a pop at me.’

And lots of people do have a pop at her. As she puts this in a chilling comparison with domestic abuse ‘

What happens is there’s a slow and steady buildup to control a woman – you have to be very negative about them, bring them down, groom them to a position of weakness, isolate them from people by threatening to embarrass them at work. You close them in, and then when all those bits of control are done, you escalate to violence.’

Intersectionality, as ever, makes all of this much worse with the well-worn trope Angry Black Woman particularly prevalent in the USA, with such women considered to be  ‘hostile, aggressive, overbearing, illogical, ill-tempered and bitter.’

No, women just want to be allowed to speak up without fear – but with good sense. Whether in science or anywhere else, our voices need to be heard and listened to, not treated as if we are out of line for daring to open our mouths. Too often women are spoken over, ignored or slapped down. Still. That this is ongoing was apparent from my conversations with younger women at the recent WISE conference, who were all too familiar with the sensation of men around them who weren’t necessarily willing to listen. Who might additionally mark a woman down for speaking up. I fear, if the ructions in the USA spread over here, those sensations may only grow.

Apart from the potential of damaging one’s career, speaking up in the face of negativity or worse, can be extremely tiring. There are times when any fighter, in any situation, may prefer to go and hide in a corner and nurse their wounds. It takes energy from the day job, such as research or teaching. It takes time away from the actions that might lead to progression, be it writing papers or attending conferences. By fighting one’s corner there are many ways in which one’s career may be jeopardised, or at the very least hindered. But if we don’t speak up, then nothing will change. I know I have the luxury of no longer having a career to worry about, but Lisa Jardine did not when she was first elected as a junior research fellow all those years ago. By encouraging others, as well as herself, to ‘behave badly’, she paved the way for all the women research fellows who came later to have a voice and a status.

Many of us will be marked down as ‘difficult’, or indeed as feisty, not a shrinking violet, unpredictable, outspoken – at this point you should insert your own particular bête noire phrase, because most readers will know what gets under their skin if they speak up. This, of course, can happen to men too, but somehow the vocabulary is usually different, with words like feisty rarely applied to a man. It may not inherently be pejorative but, when tossed in my direction, I have always felt that was the message conveyed. However, being difficult is, too often, the only way for change to happen. The parsing of ‘women are aggressive while men are assertive’ may linger under so much of this, but that’s not a reason to stop putting one’s case without fear.

 

 

 

 

Posted in Equality, feisty, Jane Goodall, Jess Phillips, Lisa Jardine, Women in science | Comments Off on Difficult Women

Being WISE

When I set off for University, I wasn’t surprised to find there weren’t many women on my course: there were only three Cambridge colleges that admitted women back then (i.e. no coeducational colleges at all), so of course I would be in a tiny minority. That recognition that I was the only woman in the room – for instance in an undergraduate practical class – was only to be expected. However, at the WISE Conference I attended this week, it was dismal to hear that for some women that still seemed to be their experience at work. Unlike many of the talks I have given on the subject of women in STEM, the audience here were largely engineers in industry, but their experiences seem disappointingly similar.

 WISE Conference 2025 - WISE

One panel discussion opened up this topic: how do you cope with that sense of difference in the room? The answers seemed to align with my own strategy of using it as a superpower (albeit that’s not a phrase I’ve ever personally used), by stressing that people will remember you over the bunch of identikit men, so you should use that difference to your advantage. I’ve written previously about how I’ve given up worrying about my dress causing me to stick out, but, instead, likewise use it to my advantage. Typically, this has led me – consciously or otherwise – to choose something red, although not on this occasion, when I was in a much more sober hue.

But using difference as a superpower still costs personal energy, and sometimes the cost is too great. Watching others in your organisation flourish while your own career stagnates for reasons that look suspiciously like bias, can be painful. Being expected to do the legwork, yet not get the credit or benefit from the resulting positive outcomes can lead to any worker wondering why they are sticking around. On the first panel discussion it was clear all three women (Lucy Davies, Lily Davies-Dobbs and Mamta Singhal) had thought about leaving a position because, basically, they’d had enough. Possibly if you had a panel of three men discussing their lot in life you might get the same result, but possibly not for the same reasons: of being passed over, ignored and not treated seriously.

To me, at my stage in life (viz: retired), it is depressing to realise that things may have moved on, but not nearly far enough. There are so many ways that women can feel excluded and overlooked for reasons that don’t seem legitimate. I was once given the advice, by an extremely supportive colleague, to get voice-coaching lessons to drop my voice. It may have worked for Maggie Thatcher – or at least she thought it would – but I deplore an attitude that suggests nonsense spoken in a low, gravelly voice is worth more than sense uttered in a typical female voice. Of course, I’m assuming I do talk sense when I make that rebuttal, but the fact remains the timbre of one’s voice should have nothing to do with whether or not one is listened to. I’m sure those who speak with a regional or foreign accent may feel a similar sense of disadvantage (see the reports of how class amongst undergraduate students rears its ugly head due to the ‘wrong’ sort of accent, in this case creating an apparently toxic atmosphere at the University of Durham).

But, to feel that one has to leave an organisation because its culture is toxic is such a waste, but may be necessary for one’s wellbeing. When I found Cambridge becoming toxic to me, I thought hard about leaving. My friends encouraged me to seek pastures new because it was getting painful and sapping my energy. But – and I remember writing a letter to this effect to one of these friends very clearly – I felt if I left, I would be letting the next generations of women down. Here I was, a professor and an FRS, what message would I be giving the early career women by quitting? So I stayed, in due course in 2010 (although in an almost accidental way) I became the University’s Gender Equality Champion and so was able to have some influence on the culture. In my case I’m certainly glad I stuck it out, but everyone has to make their own decisions.

One key message I personally took away from the WISE event, was not to be apologetic (although I’m ‘sorry’ to say, I can’t remember which of the three panellists I mention above offered this particular piece of advice). How often I – and I’m sure many of my readers – have started a conversation or an email with an apology. I’m sorry to disturb you, I’m sorry if I’ve misunderstood you, I’m sorry this email is a slow response….there are so many variants of the apology. Sheryl Sandberg may have started ‘ban bossy’, but I think a movement to stop unnecessary apologies would also be helpful for women in STEM. The need to reject bossy from the (male) lexicon of our world, of course, must remain a goal too.

It was heartening to see so many women come together to share experiences, both good and bad, and to reinforce their determination to continue to fight the good fight in the world of women in STEM.

Posted in careers, Lily Davies-Dobbs, Lucy Davies, Mamta Singhal, toxic cultures, Women in science, Women in Science and Engineering | Comments Off on Being WISE

In which I thank my stars for country living

The three ingredients for a happy life


When I first moved to London in 1997, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. Long hours in the lab would spill into the evening streets and underground tunnels of a city so large that you could never experience it all. When I think back to those evenings this time of year, it’s all wet leaves slicked against grey pavements, streetlights bleeding colours, the smell of fireworks exploding in the chilly air.

My companions were fellow postdocs, and this whole period in my life is tangled up in how I thought about being a scientist, inexperienced and trying to work it all out. High highs and low lows, too young to have worked out the balance of things – the memories saturated with blue. Blue but beautiful, and the thought of not being in that place was incomprehensible, even when it hurt.

Of course, it was never going to feel that way forever. After Joshua was born, the compact two-bed flat in Canada Water was too small to contain us. And at that stage of life, a few decades on, it was possible to imagine a different kind of life. It almost broke my heart leaving the canals, docks and woodlands of the Rotherhithe area I’d grown to love, but the first time we’d stepped into the back garden of the Kentish house we now call home, our fate was sealed. It was vast, green, full of trees and potential – about as far away as you could get from the postage-stamp-sized council flat plot where we’d carved as many vegetables beds as was humanly possible out of the the rough grass – much to the bemusement of our indifferent neighbours.

I’d always dreamt about keeping chickens and bees, and a garden full as many of edibles as possible. Today, I fulfilled the long-standing ambition of making Torrone Sardo (an Italian nut-filled soft nougat) with only our own ingredients. Hazelnuts are an acceptable traditional substitute for almonds, and this year the cobnuts and filberts we’d planted ages ago were finally mature enough to give a decent crop.

Filberts and Kentish cobnuts from the back garden hedge

So today, we shucked two large bowls of nuts from their frilly casings, then experimented as a family with the best way to crush the shells in a high-throughput manner (the grape mangler was a bust, but a large brick against the paving stones worked wonders).

A failed experiment: crushing hazelnuts with the grape wrangler

I separated the whites from three pretty green eggs laid by Luna, our new Cheshire Blue, whipped them to peaks and folded them into a pound of melted honey from last summer’s harvest. It needed stirring continuously on a bain marie for 45 minutes, then 30 minutes more after adding the nuts I’d roasted for 15 minutes in a 180 degree oven. It was relaxing just to sit there on a stool by the stove, writing and stirring, and now the mixture is setting in a cool room between sheets of parchment.

Torrone Sardo, which I first tried on a trip to Sardinia at the turn of the century

There were other garden chores: Richard has been harvesting grapes for wine, collecting medlar fruit to “blet” into over-ripeness, and gathering the last of the apples and pears. It’s been a great year for fruit, thanks to the extended heat wave. But I’ve been happy to welcome the autumn, with its stormy rains, cold mornings and brilliant blue skies. Soon we’ll be picking the last of the tomatoes and cucumbers, and harvesting pumpkins and parsnips.

The right tool for the job

London is miraculous, and I still love working there. But country life is all I’d hoped, with space to breathe, grow and work the land. I can go for hours without thinking about science, or the anxieties that tinge my campus existence. I never stop remembering how lucky I am – not just for the quality of my life now, but for the colourful journey that brought me here.

Posted in academia, Domestic bliss, Gardening, Nostalgia, The ageing process, work-life balance | Comments Off on In which I thank my stars for country living

Honouring Sir Richard Friend

I’m essentially a year into retirement and, being the age I am, it is not surprising that I get invited to attend other people’s retirement celebrations. Of course, not all academics want such an event in their honour, and for some it is hard to know when retirement actually happens, now few universities in this country still have a formal retiring age: some professors may want just to work more flexibly or part-time, rather than hang up their boots completely.

Last week it was the turn of Sir Richard Friend to be the subject of such an event, although he is most certainly not stopping doing his research. Under Cambridge’s then rules, he had to give up holding the Cavendish Chair (the senior chair in my department, the Cavendish Laboratory) in 2020, but he continues to hold grants and supervise students as a Director of Research. Richard and I are exact contemporaries, meeting for the first time just before our undergraduate lectures began and subsequently (after we each spent a few years abroad) long-term colleagues and sometimes collaborators. We co-authored a handful of papers together, although none recently.

A day long symposium was held in his honour. It was extremely well attended, with ex-group members coming from around the world. He has trained up many PhD students who have gone on to have fantastic careers in Europe and the USA in particular, as well as in this country.

But how do you give a talk to honour a man of such stature? At my own retirement conference, much was said about impostor syndrome, which Richard (if I recall correctly) admitted to suffering from himself when he spoke there. The topic did not arise at this recent event. The talks ranged from the purely scientific, with just a nod towards how Richard had influenced or supported them, to much more personal talks. There were frequent references, at least shown photographically, about the winter schools his group went on in places where skiing fitted into the agenda too. So, we had multiple photos of Richard looking suitably tanned, relaxed and begoggled, with snow in the background.

Of course, much was also said about the science underlying generations of the novel materials – their chemistry and their microstructure – of devices and potential devices developed in the group. No doubt Richard, like every other scientist, might have wanted more papers, more citations and more funding. Perhaps in his case he would also have preferred to have more patents and more companies to his name – surprisingly little was said about the companies he set up during the symposium. For many years he was a rare example, certainly in the Cavendish, of a scientist who was also entrepreneurial and set up spin-outs from his work which thrived for many years before being bought up by industrial giants, or the technology licensed to such companies. He was proof that you could do cutting-edge science and get stuck in what at the time (early 1990’s) was still being seen as the dirty world of patents and entrepreneurship. He was publicly lauded, although I’m sure many of my colleagues continued to wonder secretly about the legitimacy of doing this as an academic physicist.

I recall, before his first company CDT became a reality, how he quietly mentioned to me over a cup of tea in the Cavendish canteen, that he and Jeremy Burroughes had seen photoluminescence in a test tube from a solution of one of the new conducting polymers they were studying. He had to say this very quietly, and swear me to secrecy, because this would have been before the first patent was filed in 1989. But the lighting up of the test-tube was obviously matched by the lighting up of his eyes as he grasped the significance of this observation. Jeremy went on to become CDTs Chief Technology Officer, a role he has held for many years.

Richard’s science has been massively significant – and quantifiable. He knows how many prizes and other honours he has received. So, I wonder if actually he got more pleasure on the day, because less usually voiced, from the plaudits describing his humanity: his mentoring and nurturing of generations of students and postdocs (as an example see the text in this photo, alongside generations of Cavendish professors).

RHF and Cavendish professors

Five Cavendish Professors: a younger Richard (top left, 1995-2020), probably at his election to the Chair, standing alongside Sir Sam Edwards (1984-1995); sitting, Sir Nevill Mott (1954-71) and Sir Brian Pippard ((1971-84). The painting behind is of the first Cavendish Professor, James Clerk Maxwell and his wife, although the reflection makes it hard to see them.

Every researcher is impacted by those around them for good or ill. Sadly, it is too often for ill, when a student meets a bully or an unsupportive supervisor who never encourages their first faltering steps. Too often in that case, those steps may also be the last academic steps that that researcher takes. However, multiple times during the day speakers highlighted the help they had received in order to progress, and the kindness and generosity they had benefitted from. It isn’t that Richard couldn’t lose his temper, and he certainly had feuds with senior scientists who he felt had got the wrong end of the stick or who had otherwise stepped out of line, but there is a difference in tearing a strip off a research student and your peers. The latter should be able to defend themselves, the former much less so, as I have frequently voiced here.

The tributes to Richard were many and heartfelt, and I heard more stories in the margins of the meetings to add to those formally expressed. In the past, during my time championing women in the sciences in the university, I heard similar stories from women comparing their time working in the Cavendish’s Optoelectronics group spearheaded by Richard, with other places they had gone on to work. In one case they found this comparison with their then department (where they held a fellowship) in another university, so upsetting they burst into tears.

We need leaders who are humane, as well as brilliant and entrepreneurial, and Richard has shone on all fronts. I hope he enjoyed this symposium in his honour.

Posted in bullying, device physics, mentorship, Research, Science Culture | Comments Off on Honouring Sir Richard Friend

What I Read In September

William Boyd Stars and Bars A rare mis-step by a usually reliable author who ventures into slapstick comedy of the uptight-Englishman-in-America variety. If it’s satire about America you’re after, Dickens did it first (and better) in Martin Chuzzlewit, which — perhaps worryingly — reads as incisively today as it presumably did way back when.   Shirley Jackson The Haunting of Hill House I am told that this is something of an American literary classic. A student of the paranormal selects a few guests to inhabit and study a notoriously haunted house. There is very little actual haunting of the ghosties-and-ghoulies variety. It is, though, a disturbing psychological study of the descent of one of the protagonists into madness.   Stephen King Pet Sematary I hadn’t read a Stephen King since Needful Things. That was many years ago, and at the time I thought it over-rated… though something about it has remained with me ever since, in the sense of an itch in the back of my mind I can’t quite scratch. As for Pet Sematary, King has said himself that it is the most disturbing of his novels. The plot is easily summarised. A young family moves into a house in Maine next to a highway that has claimed the lives of many pets and not a few small children. The children  (the live ones) bury the pets in the Pet Sematary of the title (the mis-spelling is deliberate) but there is another burying ground, deeper in the woods, founded by the indigenous Micmac, where things that are interred don’t stay buried for very long, and you can guess the rest. King manages to sustain an over-long tale (as someone said of Wagner, he has wonderful moments and dreadful quarters-of-an-hour) solely by his skill as a writer, and, believe me, the boy will go far. In the same way that Bach (to invoke another shade of classical music) invented the rules of fugue and then systematically broke all of them, thereby creating something transcendent, King breaks – nay, obliterates — all the rules of creative writing and succeeds in their despite. I’m not putting him up there with Bach, or even Wagner (though there is an unpleasant taint of antisemitism in Pet Sematary that might have struck a chord with Baron Bomburst of Bayreuth), but in many places he tells rather than shows (so making the set-pieces where he shows all the more arresting). There is probably far too much exposition (done so well that it only enhances one’s sympathy for the characters). And there’s the error known as ‘Squid-on-the-Mantelpiece’. The Turkey City Lexicon (a primer for intending writers of SF) says of this trap for the unwary that  
It’s hard to properly dramatize, say, the domestic effects of Dad’s bank overdraft when a giant writhing kraken is levelling the city.
  Suffice it to say that Pet Sematary has an aquarium of squid on several period features, probably by Adam. But there was one big, big problem. If you live next to a busy highway that claims the lives of pets and small children, why don’t you build a decent fence?   Adam Kay A Particularly Nasty Case You’ll remember Adam Kay from the darkly hilarious memoirs of a doctor This Is Going To Hurt and The Nightshift Before Christmas if not for his post-healthcare memoir Undoctored, which is just dark. A Particularly Nasty Case is a whodunit featuring Jewish, bipolar and promiscuously gay Eitan Rose (rule 1: write what you know) trying to work out who’s popping off colleagues at the decrepit London hospital in which he works. But hey, I’m telling you the plot. How we laughed on the way to the Emergency Room.   Malcolm Bradbury Doctor Criminale Cast your mind back to that heady time at the end of the 1980s when the Berlin Wall was falling, politics was changing almost by the hour, anything seemed possible, and serious people were declaring that history was at an end. Bradbury evokes that era in this satire about fame, fortune, and the merry-go-round of academic conferences. Francis Jay is  a literary critic who makes a fool of himself at the Booker Prize ceremony and wakes up to find that the Sunday newspaper he works for has folded. He is hired by a TV production company as a researcher for a programme about Bazslo Criminale, philosopher of the Zeitgeist, who seems to be everywhere but is frustratingly hard to pin down. Is he for real or just a front? And what exactly is his philosophy? Bradbury sure can write, but it could be that for many readers unschooled in the controversies over Derrida and so on (I include myself here) the jokes rather go over one’s head. And what with history picking up with a vengeance since the Twin Towers the age of glasnost seems so very long ago now.   Alastair Reynolds Eversion Imagine my joy on discovering something by SF author Reynolds I hadn’t already read. This is a stand-alone piece, unrelated to his sprawling ‘Revelation Space’ universe or any of his other series, and in tone is more like the playful metafiction of the faux-noir Century Rain. Eversion starts with Dr Silas Coade, surgeon on the sloop Demeter, nudging its early nineteenth-century way along the coast of northern Norway in search of a mysterious and gigantic structure at the end of an unexplored fjord. It’s all very Boy’s-Own-adventure and reads — perhaps deliberately — like something by Rider Haggard (note: ‘metafiction’). But it all ends rather suddenly to be replaced by a similar tale only with a steamship… and then a 1930s-style exploration by an airship to a hole in Antarctica that leads to a gigantic cavern inside the Earth. That part is wonderfully steampunk (note: airships). There are other pastiches, including one short version that reads exactly like a SF story from a Golden-Age pulp. Gradually the real situation dawns. Or does it? But hey, I’m telling you the plot. Hugely enjoyable.   Steven Strogatz The Joy of x I love maths. My ardour is, however, unrequited. Hence my joy at coming across books about maths by mathematicians who actually know how to explain things in plain English, for they are few in number (I am so familiar with Ian Stewart, Brian Clegg and John Gribbin that I know them personally, and I have heard good things about Hannah Fry). The Joy of x (he must have thought of the title first, right? Like the late Tom Lehrer’s fictional maths bestseller Tropic of Calculus) is an all-too-brief tour of maths from simple counting all the way past calculus (differential, integral and vector) to group theory and linear algebra, topology  and some statistics, ending up with a suite at the Hilbert Hotel. But it was all too whistle-stop for me. I’d have liked to have had a more leisurely exploration of some of the topics to ensure I had a really good grasp before moving on.  I had a similar sensation after reading Tom Chivers’ book Everything is Predictable (reviewed here)  on Bayesian statistics — I could appreciate why it was important, and useful, but still couldn’t quite grasp it. Perhaps what I need is a maths textbook written in the same friendly way but which goes into more depth and detail. Maybe such things exist. If they do, well, answers on a postcard please…
Posted in Writing & Reading | Comments Off on What I Read In September