An Astonishing Ascent

It seems somehow to have always been there. I cannot remember when it first came to my attention but I have long been aware of it as a landmark or rather a landscape in the background of my mind.

Jacob Bronowski’s documentary series, The Ascent of Man, was first broadcast on BBC2 in 1973. I was only nine years old at the time and am almost certain I did not watch it. But I guess I must have seen a re-run some time later because Bronowski’s face and voice have long been familiar to me, along with the sense that his program is highly regarded.

It was one of those TV series that I always meant to get around to watching. The DVD had been languishing on my Amazon wish list for a couple of years. But only recently, when I came across a blog post by David Colquhoun, was I propelled into action. The post was a fascinating reflection on the nature of scientific investigation and ended with a video segment from the series of Bronowski, who was originally a Polish Jew, standing in Auschwitz and talking about the humanity of science. It is an extremely powerful piece of film. I decided I would wait no more and placed my order.

The Ascent of Man consists of thirteen programs, each lasting 50 minutes. Knowing that I would struggle to find the time in the evenings, I ripped the DVDs to MP4 files that I could watch on my iPhone during the commute to work. It was sitting on a train that I started on episode one.

Ascent of Man

A tiny figure silhouetted by the rising sun ascends to the top of a rocky mountain in East Africa, the cradle of humankind, and declares slowly but emphatically:

“Man is a singular creature. He has a set of gifts that make him unique among the animals, so that — unlike them — he is not a figure in the landscape, he is the shaper of the landscape.”

From that eloquent opening, I was hooked. I could barely tear myself away and watched it on the train, to and from work, in bed last thing at night and first thing in the morning. I got though the whole series in under two weeks. It was magnificent.

Bronowski sets himself the task of recounting the history of mankind, focusing on how the development of his intellectual faculties and his scientific achievements have contributed to the rise of civilisation. The emphasis is scientific but Bronowski’s knowledge and understanding are broad and deep, embracing history, politics, architecture, art, literature and psychology.

The scope of the tale is breath-taking. Starting with the evolution of man, it wends from the development of early human society and agriculture, to the first hints of man’s understanding of the world around him, to his growing mastery of matter and energy, and leads inexorably to our late 20th Century conception of the universe and man’s place within it.

Much of the material will be familiar to viewers, particularly those of a scientific bent, but it is the span and completeness of the narrative, recounted in Bronowski’s signature style that makes viewing such a sumptuous and rewarding experience. He has a talent for exposition that I have never seen bettered and a eye for colourful detail that is charming. His presentation is enriched by his sympathetic humanity and shows no trace of condescension towards the viewer.

For me, the particular delights of The Ascent of Man are Bronowski’s longer disquisitions to camera that reveal both his passion for his subject and his total command of the material, whether it be the manufacture of a samurai sword, the trial of Galileo or Mendel’s theory of inheritance. No subject is too abstruse or difficult to defy Bronowski’s ambition for his story. His emphatic pauses and gestures — that hand carefully reaching up to touch his forehead for a moment, the oft-repeated “And yet…” — may be part of a performance, but there is never any serious doubt that you are in the presence of a quite wonderful teacher.

The Ascent of Man is nearly 40 years old and in some ways shows its age. The look of the program will seem a little dated to some, but it is still astoundingly beautiful. Recorded on 16 mm film, the program may have none of the spectacular high-definition of modern television, but nor does it suffer from the more recent obsession with fast cuts and shaky, hand-held camera-work. In fact the evident care taken in the composition of many of the images presented and the set-up of lengthy tracking shots imbue the films with a quality that has stood — and will yet stand — the test of time.

I don’t want to say any more; I fear I may have gushed too much. My account may have too much of the lover’s uncritical eye. But I would like you to be able to enjoy it, to discover it, to re-discover it for yourself.
Bronowski himself said of the project:

“…my ambition has been to create a philosophy for the 20th Century which shall be all of one place. One part of that is to teach people to command science — to have command of the basic ideas of modern science, so that they can take command of its use.”

In that part of his ambition, he has succeeded in full measure.

I will only tell you finally that I found The Ascent of Man to be utterly compelling. I think I would also like it to be compulsory.

Posted in TV review | 21 Comments

Homeopathy and the Structure of Memory

I wanted to write something in time for World Homeopathy Awareness Week since homeopathy is such an amazing phenomenon. But though the promotional week is now over, I’m sure you can remember it. You will have memories of some of the things that were written and said.

Souvenir Shop in Venice

Memories are so important for human beings. They enrich the present and allow us to navigate from the past into the future. We like to wallow in the pleasant ones, ever returning from holidays — as my family did from Venice last weekend — laden with photographs and souvenirs to enhance our store of recollection. Even bad memories are, like Venetian souvenir shops, almost impossible to avoid, such is their ubiquity in our experience.

Memory is also central to the modern interpretation of homeopathy, the complementary medical practice of treating like with like in which substances that induce certain disease symptoms are serially diluted in water and succussed (i.e. shaken) to be ‘potentised’ as remedies. The technique was first proposed at the end of the 18th Century, prior to the development of our present-day theories of the atomic and molecular nature of matter. These revealed homeopathic dilutions to be so extreme that not a single molecule of the original symptom-inducing substance remains in the preparations used for treatment. To explain the efficacy of the remedies, it has now been advanced that water retains a memory of the molecules that have been diluted away and thereby transmits their therapeutic benefit.

As I said, it’s an amazing phenomenon.

Curiously, homeopathy appears to echo the body’s natural healing process, which also relies on memory to combat disease and illness. The adaptive immune system is a thing of wondrous complexity but I just want to tell you about one small part of it to reveal something of how memory works that can also shed light on homeopathic mechanisms.

The immune system battles day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute against an onslaught of mostly microscopic invaders. A key element of this complex defence mechanism is the population of B-cells, which are producers of molecules known as antibodies.

The human body has the capacity to generate enormous numbers of different antibody molecules: the DNA that codes for antibodies within each B-cell is split into pieces and only assembles into its final form — from a large choice of similar but not identical parts — as the cell matures in the bone marrow. In a sense every B-cell contains a deck of DNA cards for antibody parts but can only use the hand that it is dealt during maturation to make one type of antibody molecule. When it is released into the circulation, each new B-cell therefore carries and codes for a unique antibody. But there are billions and billions of B-cells and the quasi-random assemblage of parts means that a huge diversity of different antibody molecules is made.

Antibody Molecule

The antibody — initially displayed on the surface of the B-cell — is Y-shaped, with two identical arms. The end of each arm, (the most variable region between different antibodies — indicated by arrows in the picture here) can stick to the surface of an invading pathogen, but will only do so if it happens to make a good fit with the molecule displayed on the surface of a microbial pathogen. The body relies entirely on its capacity to generate many different antibodies to make sure there is at least one that will stick to the invader.
The picture below shows in spectacular detail the intimate interaction between a haemagglutinin molecule from the surface of a ‘flu virus that has just been found by an antibody that can latch on to it.

Can you see how closely the shape of the antibody fits the contours of the haemagglutinin molecule? The embrace is intimate but rigid. Solid. Though there may be some flexing as the two molecules come together, the association is tense one, more like wrestlers locked in a stalemate than lovers sleepily caressing in the early morning.

Antibody-Haemagglutinin Complex

I have deliberately revealed the underlying structure of bonded atoms (red oxygens, blue nitrogens and cyan or yellow carbons) in the antibody molecule on the right of the picture. If you think the molecular structure is horrendously complex, then good: that’s because it is. The antibody is elaborate and convoluted because it has to be complementary in shape and surface chemistry to the structure of the protein on the microbial invader that it targets. Its conformation is fixed by the sequence of amino acids making up the protein chains of the antibody, which dictate precisely how it folds into a unique structure that happens to bind — in this case — to the surface of haemagglutinin.

We call this binding ‘recognition’ though it is recognition by touch rather than sight and — at least at first — occurs only by chance. It is not based on memory, but crucially allows a memory to form.

The initial contact between the antibody on the B-cell surface with the ‘flu protein causes the B-cell to divide, producing many daughter cells that release free antibody molecules of exactly the same structure into the bloodstream. These rove around and tag for destruction any other ‘flu viruses in the neighbourhood. In this way — though I am simplifying greatly — the infection is eventually mopped up.

But just as importantly, some of the B-cells turn into long-lived memory cells that retain the ability to make the antibody that ‘recognised’ the ‘flu haemagglutinin. Their function is to be on the look-out in the weeks, months and years to come for re-infection by the ‘flu virus. If this happens, an encounter between the antibody on the memory cell surface and the ‘flu protein is sufficient to trigger a very rapid response, which again floods the circulation with antibody molecules of the same structure, thereby preventing the infection from getting established.

Working together, B-cells and antibodies can lay down powerful immunological memories. The secret of the success of this system is in the preserved structure of the molecules, encoded by the DNA sequence of the shuffled antibody gene and expressed in the ornate three-dimensional architecture of the protein chains that form the antibody.

With World Homeopathy Awareness Week fresh in our minds, it is appropriate to ask: why did evolution, which has always taken such a make-do attitude to developing the faculties of living things, not choose to work with water to construct an immune system capable of remembering its enemies? Surely, given the prodigious feats of memory attributed by homeopaths to this glistening, life-giving fluid, Nature could have fashioned a watery armour to protect us from disease?

This has not happened of course because memories require fixed structures and water is a liquid. In this form, it is no more capable of remembering molecules than of being sculpted.

Instead the immune system revealed by scientific analysis shows us that the sophisticated mechanism needed to fight off infection has been built from shaped materials. The potency of an antibody is derived from its ability to form a structure that is uniquely specified by the sequence of amino acids in the protein chain. The potency of the B-cells that give rise to them lies in the eloquent DNA structure through which the amino acid sequence is coded. And remembered.

The antibody molecule in the picture above may be off-putting to some because of its near impenetrable irregularity. But to my mind — and I confess to the predilections of a structural biologist here — it represents a winsome confluence of form and function. Paradoxically perhaps, the elegance of that understanding was won by brutish methods. Time and again we have found that only by asking the harshest questions and sifting our data with the severest eye can we lay a hand on those bright nuggets of insight that are worth keeping.

If you take a softer, gentler approach that is satisfied by more superficial observations, then understanding just leaks through your hands, like water.

Posted in AltMed | 32 Comments

That Feeling

You know that feeling? That feeling you get?
That feeling you get when you and your mate are climbing in the Andes and the weather closes in and before you know it you’ve slipped off an icy ledge and suffered a horrific impact fracture of the femur. And your mate climbs down to find you paralysed with pain and binds up your leg and starts to take you, stage by agonising stage, down the mountain but the weather gets worse and in the end, after lowering you over a blind precipice, he feels himself slipping, he can’t hold on and has to cut the rope. And you smash onto the ice below and lie there in agony waiting for the coldness to kill you. But you don’t die. Somehow you summon the will to move, the determination to drag yourself down the mountain where your mate, even if he has survived the storm, has probably decamped, giving you up for dead. Each dragging movement is excruciating. You can only keep going by setting minuscule goals: I’ll make it as far as that rock there, just out of reach. You can’t let yourself look further than the next rock, even though you know miles and miles of suffering lie ahead.
That feeling. That’s the one I mean.

Siula Grande – by Chloe.
A bit like the feeling you sometimes get when you’re writing a grant application. A bit. I had something of that feeling these past few weeks as I’ve been working, struggling with one. Not nearly so intense of course (not nearly!), but a shade, a shadow of what must have gone through Joe Simpson’s tortured mind during the descent of Siula Grande, superbly re-told in Touching the Void. But definitely something.
However, I have now reached the bottom of the mountain. Having endured the gruelling journey for many days, the task was finally completed this afternoon. 
And tomorrow I am off to Italy to sample something of the Renaissance and, hopefully, undergo something of a renaissance myself!
See you on the other side.

Posted in Uncategorized | 23 Comments

Faster than a Rocket

I am pleased to be able to announce that, having taken up jogging at the turn of the year, I can now run faster than a rocket. Well, strictly speaking, I can now run faster that the Rocket–or rather a very fine replica thereof–which I overtook yesterday lunchtime in Kensington Gardens. This was the view as I whizzed past:

The Rocket
Stephen passes Stephenson.

Anyone wishing to take a ride in the train has until the 18th April. Or you can touch the real thing at the Science Museum down the road.

Posted in History of Science | 5 Comments

JoK-ing Apart

Today it is my signal honour to have a guest post on @JackofKent‘s most excellent blog. It examines the understanding of the nature of scientific evidence set out in the Court of Appeal’s recent ruling on the libel case brought by the British Chiropractic Association against science writer, Dr Simon Singh.
In my opinion, the stance taken by the Court is pleasingly scientific.

Posted in Libel Reform | 2 Comments

This appeal must be allowed

I was in Court 4 at the Royal Courts of Justice at 9.30 this morning, the Court of the Lord Chief Justice. This one was a ‘real’ court room, all oak panel, wall-to-wall shelves of legal tomes and even a dock caged with cast-iron bars for the defendant (empty on this occasion).

It was a brief affair. The buzz of conversation stopped abruptly with the words “Court Rise” and in came the Lord Chief Justice himself. His first concern seemed to be if there would be enough copies of the judgement to hand out to those present. “Are all the ladies and gentlemen over there interested?” he inquired, looking in our direction. We nodded.

And then–at first I thought I had missed it–he announced “This appeal is allowed” and copies of the judgement were handed out. There were smiles, mixed with looks of bafflement (“Does that mean..?” “Yes?”). The smiles on Simon’s solicitor’s face confirmed the truth of the matter. Justice Eady’s judgement–that Simon Singh’s article could be taken to be an assertion that the BCA had acted dishonestly–is overturned. His Comment is Free article in the Guardian can now be defended (in the still ongoing libel trial) as fair comment.

Simon Singh speaking after his appeal victory
Simon Singh speaks to reporters after this morning’s ruling

I managed to snag a copy of the judgement and have been trying to digest it on my way back to the office. I am not qualified to articulate its meaning in any great depth but will highlight a couple of the more scientific aspects that struck me.

The justices first note the impact of the case brought by the BCA against the science writer:

“It is now two years since the publication of the offending article. It seems unlikely that anyone would have dared to repeat the opinions expressed by Dr Singh for fear of a writ. Accordingly, this litigation has almost certainly had a chilling effect on public debate about the possible use of chiropractic.”

Quite. (Though given the eruption of material on chiropractic in the blogosphere and elsewhere since this case started, I’m not sure their lordships are quite on the money there).

They move on to consider the consequences of this case. In their submissions both sides have argued about the evidence for the claims of chiropractors. The justices are concerned where this will lead.

“Ms Rogers (counsel for the BCA) has told us that… the trial can be expected to involve expert evidence on both sides and a judicial conclusion as to whether there is any evidence for the BCA’s claims.
One has only to contemplate this prospect to conclude that something is amiss.”

They then get to what I think is the nub of the matter and take the view (if I have understood correctly) that scientific evidence is a matter for debate between scientists rather than in court, mainly because it is not easy to define what are the ‘facts’ in many complex scientific issues. Singh’s comments about the BCA claims are held to be expressions of opinion.

“The opinion may be mistaken, but to allow the party which has been denounced on the basis of it to compel the author to prove in court what he has asserted by way of argument is to invite the court to become an Orwellian ministry of truth. Milton, recalling in the Areopagitica his visit to Italy in 1638-9, wrote:

‘I have sat among their learned me, for that honour I had, and been counted happy to be born in such a place of philosophic freedom, as they supposed England was, while themselves did nothing but bemoan the servile condition into which learning among them was brought;… that nothing had been there written now these many years but flattery and fustian. There it was that I found and visited the famous Galileo, grown old a prisoner of the Inquisition, for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dominican licensers thought.’

This is a pass to which we ought not to come again”

Wonderful stuff. They do give good value for money these justices!

And finally, in what is perhaps a marker of the way their Lordships would like to see such cases treated in future, they quote a ruling by Judge Easterbrook from the USA:

“[Plaintiffs] cannot, by simply filing suit and crying ‘character assassination!’, silence those who hold divergent views, no matter how adverse those views may be to plaintiffs’ interests. Scientific controversies must be settled by the methods of science rather than by the methods of litigation. … More papers, more discussion, better data, and more satisfactory models – not larger awards of damages – mark the path towards superior understanding of the world around us.”

A good day for Simon Singh, for freedom of speech and for science.

But Simon’s case is not over yet. According to their statement, posted by The LayScientist, the BCA are disappointed and considering their position.

And the campaign for libel reform must continue. Tell your friends. Sign the petition.

Here’s another report on the outcome from the Index on Censorship (with twitter feed) and one from Austin, who was very quick off the mark!

Follow developments on Twitter via the #singhbca hashtag. The full ruling (definitely worth a read) should be available on Jack of Kent’s Blog later today.


Update: Judgement now available as a pdf thanks to Index on Censorship.

Posted in Libel Reform | 34 Comments

Passing Time

At the weekend the clocks went forward. Time was shifted and the days suddenly seem longer. I realised that my stargazing will be pushed later and later into the spring and summer evenings. Oh well, I’ll just have to sit up longer.

Earlier today I travelled under dismal skies to North London to attend the funeral of a colleague, a man in his prime–not yet forty–for whom time has cruelly and suddenly stopped. His young family is devastated. We stood grim-faced at the church, hollowed out by the senselessness of the death. There is nothing good or redeeming about such a loss. Except. Except, I can only very grudgingly concede, that it reminds us of the preciousness of our own time. But what a horrendously expensive lesson.

Last week I gave a seminar at the London Structural Biology Club meeting at Birkbeck College. That same evening my daughter also gave a talk–and her performance was far superior to mine. For three minutes she argued in favour of nerdiness with such carefully timed invention and wit that she had the audience helpless with laughter. My fatherly heart was fit to burst with pride. I also had a sense of the torch passing. The time is coming. This sensation is reinforced by my son who is now planning his applications to university. In less than eighteen months my boy–so recently a baby it seems–will be leaving home. Even my youngest daughter is about to turn teenager.

But it is not quite time for me to shuffle off the stage. I have another grant application due. It’s been a struggle this one. I have been wrestling with it, trying to articulate a shared vision with my collaborator and cast it into an experimental plan that will sell. The deadline is imminent–just after Easter–and there is still a ton of work to do: a case for support to hack down to six sides, budgets to draft, summaries and impact statements to concoct. Not to mention the other duties haranguing my mind for attention: a paper to submit, lectures to organise, student projects to prepare, a synchrotron trip in the offing. I’m sure it will all get done but I can feel time wrapping itself around me, stretching and straining like a rubber band, tighter, tighter.

I wish to God it would snap.

But tonight the tension is unwound a little.  I am  in the audience again with my wife and son listening to the girls make sweet music in the school orchestra. We smile and chat with them at the interval and at the end of the evening, when they are subdued by tiredness, carry them home in the car. These are moments to be cherished.

And summer is on its way.

Posted in Uncategorized | 8 Comments

The Age of Wonder, Thunder or Blunder?

I am reading The Age of Wonder, Richard Holmes’ award-winning romp through the romantic era of science which lasted, roughly speaking, from the middle of the eighteenth century to the middle of the nineteenth. I may one of these days write a review of it for Lablit (though please don’t tell them – I don’t want to over-commit). For the time being, it may be taking me an _age_ to read the book, but I can confirm that it is wonderful.
I have been struck by some of the resonances with present-day science. In particular, I have noted the responses of some of the 18th Century scientists to vitriolic criticism of their views.
Humphry Davy and his Bristol mentor, Thomas Beddoes, were colourfully castigated by pamphleteers in 1800 as “Bladder conjurors and newfangled Doctors pimping for Caloric” and accused of using their experiments with nitrous oxide to seduce the young women of the city. The very idea!
Nineteen years later the surgeon William Lawrence was taken to task by the Quarterly Review for his denial of the soul, for his materialist views on life and for asserting “that there is no difference between a man and an oyster, other than that one possesses bodily organs more fully developed than the other”. Oyster-sized reasoning, if ever I heard it!
What is interesting is the response of the scientists to these assaults: none of them resorted to the libel laws. For sure there was a vigorous, not to say censorious, publishing industry at that time, which pulled no punches in attacking science and scientists. But Davy, Beddoes and Lawrence, their scientific instincts intact, stuck to their guns and argued the toss.
All of which is–I must finally confess–a way of bringing to your attention the latest phase in the campaign for reform of the libel laws, which are having such a chilling effect on our ability to discourse freely on matters scientific and medical. These days, although science continues to reveal plenty of wonders, on some matters–especially those relating to public health–powerful organisations are using the thunderous power of England’s libel laws to drown out critics. Which, as we have seen can lead to the most awful blunders in human healthcare.
I know, I know. I am at risk of sounding like a cracked record on this topic but on Tuesday 23rd March, next week, if you are a resident of the UK and happen to be in London, you will be able to participate in a mass lobby of Parliament which is being organised by The Libel Reform Campaign (follow the link for details).

_Squint and you can see Parliament in 3D – otherwise go along for real_
Never lobbied your MP before? It could be fun! You get to meet some “high profile champions of the campaign” and see the fabulous interior of the Palace of Westminster. And do something valuable for libel reform. It’s vital that we keep this issue burning as the election approaches.

Posted in Uncategorized | 2 Comments

Libel is not Funny

Sunday evening saw the Curry clan heading into central London for the Big Libel Gig in support of the ongoing campaign for Libel Reform. There was a great line-up of comedy talent in prospect, inter-mixed with more serious contributions about the issue of reform from the likes of journalist Nick Cohen, cardiologist Peter Wilmshurst (himself the defendant in a current action), Evan Harris MP (and some of his cross-party chums) and Simon Singh himself.

Big Libel Gig

Let there be no mistake, the big draw for us were the comedians who had agreed to perform, including Dara O’Briain, Ed Byrne, Marcus Brigstocke, Tim Minchin, Shappi Khorsandi and Robin Ince (brain-father of the Gig).

And we were not disappointed. A packed house cheered as Robin Ince, our breathless and hard-working compere for the night, walked onto the stage. He set things going and set the intellectual tone by reflecting on Descartes’ “I think therefore I am” pronouncement and then wondering aloud about all the people “who don’t think and yet still are…!”.

Big Libel Gig - Robin Ince comperes

Ince did a great job of joining up the diverse acts. He’s a fantastic comedian himself but one who takes his science seriously (I was delighted to learn that he’s just been given a telescope for his birthday).

There was a wonderful succession of great performers. I particularly enjoyed Brigstocke’s angry rant about the British Gyrocoptic Chiropodists (“or whatever they’re called”). I laughed at that almost as much as the rest of my family did at his anti-iPhone-user diatribe (all the while casting sidelong glances at me).

Another moment of sheer genius was Ariane Sherine’s epically quirky ballad The Simon Singh Song, which even had me singing along (a cue for yet more sidelong disapproving looks).

And then, late into the evening, onto the stage came Ben Goldacre. I’ve seen him talk a couple of times before. He does a good line in sciencey quippery and, sure enough, started out apologising because he was a nerd and not a comedian. That got a round of tittering and gentle applause but then he started to speak. Seriously.

He talked about his own libel case after he had been sued by Matthias Rath for criticising Rath’s peddling of vitamin pills as a cure for AIDS. He told us about Rath’s newspaper adverts in South Africa, denigrating anti-retroviral therapy and promoting vitamin supplements as a superior alternative. He told us about how Rath’s anti-antiretroviral views chimed with those of the then president, Thabo Mbeki. He told us about the gay campaigner, Zackie Achmet, who fought his government to make antiretroviral therapy available to every HIV-positive person in South Africa, who refused this therapy himself (despite the pleas of Nelson Mandela) until the government reversed its appalling and reckless policy. He told us about Rath’s former employee, Anthony Brink, who filed a complaint against Achmat with the International Criminal Court at The Hague, accusing him of genocide for campaigning to allow South Africans access to antiretroviral drugs. The paperwork submitted in support of the accusation was utterly shocking.

But don’t take my word for it. Read the chapter from Goldacre’s book (available as a free pdf download). It’s an astonishing, revolting story of what some people will do to silence their critics. Rath didn’t care for Goldacre’s criticism of his vitamin sales in South Africa and so he sued for libel. Fortunately, Rath eventually lost.

Unlike the comedians before him, Goldacre failed completely to bring the house down. But on this topic he brought it to an absolute standstill. We’d had a good laugh earlier at the expense of chiropractic and homeopathic nutcases. But this was deadly serious. The point was, the point is: libel can be seriously deadly.

After the hush, Dara O’Briain, the last act of the night bounded onto the stage. He paid homage to Goldacre’s spot, deftly thanking him for cleansing the audience’s palate between comedy courses and then, consummate professional that he is, launched into a blisteringly funny set — the most hilarious of the night — that bounced from infants bleating about their back problems to accounts of his and his wife’s recent experiences at NCT ante-natal classes. He had the crowd aching with laughter and ensured that the night ended on a high.

Show over, we smiled and buzzed our way down the stairs and out into the surprisingly mild West-End night. But behind the smiles, there was something more serious.

If you haven’t done so already, please go to the libel reform website and show your support.

Posted in Libel Reform | 11 Comments

Bob Dylan at Imperial

It’s hard to believe, but Bob Dylan is at Imperial. Stranger than an eleven-dollar bill. But it’s true. 
Not in person you understand, that would be ridiculous. But his words are there, as the sub-text to an exhibition of photographs by Mark Edward illustrating humankind’s disconnection from the planet that we inhabit. The pictures are displayed on temporary boarding along one side of the Queen’s Lawn in the centre of the campus.
HR0-boarding.jpg
It might seem crass but the words and images work powerfully together. The exhibition is part of the Hard Rain Project.
HR1.jpg
The inspiration apparently came from Edward’s weird experience of receiving hospitality from a Bedouin man in the desert in the 1970s. After providing food and drink, Edward’s host produced a tape-recorder, warmed up some elderly batteries and played Dylan’s song, _A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall_, to the photographer.
HR2.jpg
Dylan wrote the song at the time of the Cuban missile crisis. In his own words, “I was in Bleecker Street in New York. We just hung around at night — people sat around wondering if it was the end, and so did I. Would 10 O’Clock the next day ever come? It was a song of desperation. What could we do?”
Dylan could at least articulate his terror and despair.
HR-HardRain.jpg
I had noticed the exhibition on my way into work earlier in the week. Finally today I decided to end my run (30 minutes!) and catch my breath while taking in the words and pictures. I’m glad I did. It is a moving collection of pictures, each forcefully amplified by Dylan’s mesmerising lyric. No less a figure than Christy Moore has already attested to the inspirational value of the composition.
There are plenty of good things about the way we live today but, as the exhibition demonstrates, there’s a lot wrong too. The Cuban missile crisis may have passed but the nuclear threat remains palpable. And we are more aware that ever of the intractability of human conflict and our impact on the natural world.
The answers to our major problems will not be easy. But the exhibition offers one piece of wisdom from a rather famous scientist:
HR-Einstein.jpg
Something to think about, as I headed back to my office.

Posted in Uncategorized | 19 Comments

Mark this Day

Mark this day!
Mark this day.
Hang out the bunting
And launch a clatter of fireworks from the grassy earth
For its like may not be seen again.
Today I ran for a full twenty-eight minutes
Without stopping.
I lapped the gleaming Serpentine
And came to rest in Albert’s gilded gaze
Beside the sun-turned crocuses.
Mark this day
Because life is short
And we must take our pleasures where we can.

 

Crocuses.jpg

 


My thanks to Richard and Frank for their recent “moral support”:http://blogs.nature.com/scurry/2010/01/26/still-running#comment-35962 and to “Horslips – Live”:http://www.amazon.co.uk/Live/dp/B0038GCG1O/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1267797893&sr=8-1 for providing an irresistible rhythm to today’s run.

Posted in Scientific Life | 23 Comments

The awesomeness of MT4

Angled-text.png

Posted in Uncategorized | 22 Comments