• Science behind the scenes by steffi suhr

    This is about people in science and those behind it: in science support, logistics, management, and publishing. Mostly marine and polar science-related, but now also with regular updates on the latest free electron laser technology!

    • A Hi in the Snow

      Saturday, 07 Nov 2009

      This picture of people in the snow at Palmer Station was taken on 2 November from a NASA plane on a flyover that was part of Operation Ice Bridge. Stacie Murray, who is the Chef at Palmer this season, describes the situation:

      “We knew that the plane was going to be in the area and that they might fly over us. The weather has been so bad, in Chile and here, that it’s been a bit of a delay for our station’s fly by, a week or so. It was just a normal work day when they radioed us and said they would be over us in 8 min. So we did an “all-call” [a public announcement to all station personnel over loudspeakers] and told everyone to head to the pier. We were just waiting there for the plane, so we said we should do something… what can we do? Let’s lay down and write HI with our bodies. Then we realized that there were not enough of us, so we all ran to the storage room and grabbed all of the bright orange float coats that we have to wear whenever we are on the water. As we heard the plane coming, we quickly lined them up in the snow. The plane did a pass over us and we radioed them whether they saw our sign? They said no, we will go lower. They passed over again and that is when they took this picture. They did a little “wave” with the plane and went on their way. A little excitement in our day at Palmer Station for sure!"

    • The Michael Schumacher Effect

      Tuesday, 03 Nov 2009

      No, I don’t follow Formula 1 – my husband is the gear head in the family. And no, I’ve never liked Michael Schumacher particularly: he is just too much of a ‘nice guy’. I will not comment on what was going on between him and Barichello.

      I am, however, in the camp of people who firmly believe that one of the big reasons (besides not being too bad of a driver) Schumacher did so well for so many years was his technical know-how. This made it possible for him to come back after a drive and, instead of saying “dunno, the car didn’t run so well today”, give pretty good instructions to the engineers on what he thought needed tweaking. So the ‘doing’ and the development went hand in hand = the ‘Michael Schumacher effect’.

      The same thing exists in science: the biggest discoveries happen at the intersection of science and technology, where boundaries are pushed further, making those who understand both invaluable for driving progress in any field of research. I’ve observed this many times while working for the US Antarctic Program: there was hardly any funded Principal Investigator who didn’t have his or her ‘sidekick’ who was in charge of technical issues, logistics, and keeping all of the equipment happy and running smoothly during a research cruise. These sidekicks were always extremely wickedly smart people. (I would even go as far as saying that some of them were smarter than the PIs themselves… but that would be rude.)

      There are many scientists who use very sophisticated equipment simply to get data, without a real understanding of what exactly the equipment does. I will readily admit that this was also true for me concernning some equipment I used during my PhD research (for example, I could never be bothered never had time to really learn the ins and outs of a gas chromatograph). Thankfully, in these situations there always seems to be a technician who can work miracles explain what to do…

      During my current undercover research, I have now learned that this phenomenon may be even more pronounced in physics: there are two different tribes, the ‘Machine Scientists’ and the – well, others. The Machine Scientists do their thing and build wonderfully powerful, complicated machines that they very much love – to the innocent observer, it might even seem as if they’d be just as happy building ever more sophisticated machines, whether or not anyone will be using them for research. Either way, the non-machine-physicists are literally not allowed on ‘the other side’, i.e. behind the radiation protection wall of, for example, a large synchrotron facility.

      The funny thing is, they cannot live without each other.


      P.S. Thanks to Eva for giving me the idea for the title of this post. And if you happen to read it out loud, do please try to get the ‘ch’ right (it’s not a k!!!).

    • How to explain science to your friends

      Wednesday, 28 Oct 2009

      Eh – excuse me for a second while I get off the fence…

      (sounds of scrambling)

      …I finally lost my innocence yesterday morning. Unexpectedly, first cup of coffee in my hand, eyes barely open, I came across the first really nasty thread with lots of really stupid misinformation on H1N1 vaccinations on a status update of one of my facebook contacts – yes, you read correctly. Bracing myself, and ignoring the fact that the safe haven of facebook had just been breached, I jumped into the fray and posted some real information. Followed by a full disclosure of having a science PhD, and a link to Jenny’s blog for good measure, in case anyone needed convincing that scientists are real people, and nice ones at that.

      Given the choice, I would prefer a world where people are calm, thoughtful and moderate, and don’t raise their voice unless they have something important to say (and, ideally, they actually know what they are talking about). I know that’s just dumb, but a girl can dream, can’t she? Over this last year, however, I learned that there is a scarily large number of people out there who are decidedly not that way – thanks to a brush with some particularly nasty examples and going to places on the internet I had not even thought of going before, I felt shocked, disillusioned, and almost paralyzed for a while.

      For the longest time, and very likely also due to the fact that I started working in a (mostly) non-academic environment right after my PhD, where I got lots of corporate indoctrination training on how not to be offensive to my co-workers, I was avoiding ‘trumping the science card’. Of course, whenever someone asked me for my opinion as a scientist – as people do – I gave it, but inside I felt hesitant. What makes me the authority on everything science, being aware of the fact that I know a lot about my subject – which happens to be a little exotic within a, for the vast majority of the people on this planet, exotic discipline – but only ‘basic stuff’ on most other science? I feel more comfortable talking and writing about climate change and stuff like iron fertilization – but that’s not the only topic I get asked about.

      The hardest part: discussing alternative medical treatments with my friends. I had foolishly assumed that talking about science should not automatically lead to talking about that topic… but it seems to creep up almost every time. So I have been finding myself very reluctantly having to try and explain why homeopathy cannot work all these things I had been trying to dodge.

      For those of you who are hardcore anti-alt-med bloggers: maybe you don’t have any friends that use alternative treatments. Good for you, then this question is redundant. If you do, you must have discussions about this? How do they go? Do those friends read your blog? Are they offended, or do you manage to convince them by telling them that what they are doing is idiotic, and then laughing?

      There is a reason people ‘believe’ in alternative treatments, and I suspect (like many others) that this is due to a mixed bag of suspicions against ‘big pharma’, the feeling that ‘tradition is a good thing’, that ‘other cultures may be smarter’ (in the case of e.g. traditional Chinese medicine) and that ‘science can’t explain everything’. I would love to live happily in the conviction that science (read: a systematic, logical approach to figuring things out) will prevail. But not everyone is willing to buy into this, or even spend time thinking about it. Going a step further: the majority of people do not have a real concept of how science works, and they don’t even care(!).

      But we can really make a difference when someone who trusts us(!) asks about science.

      So here are my ground rules of engagement1:

      • Do not be confrontational!
      • Try to make it very clear that Science is not ‘just another approach to looking at things’. Science is the one universal way that humans have figured out – in different cultures, at different times, over and over – to systematically study the world around them and find out how it works.
      • And, if at all possible, make it very, very clear that science is not something you choose to ‘believe’ in or not.

      On that last bullet: saying that science is something one ‘believes’ in or not is not just counterproductive – it’s just wrong, and potentially very damaging considering the currently raging debates and general confusion. Of course science is about doubt, inquiry and all that – doubt is what gets the whole thing going in the first place. But you believe in religion. In science, you can form hypotheses and measure stuff to see whether they hold or not – this has absolutely nothing to do with believing.

      Finally, this is not just about how best to communicate science. This is also very much about how we as scientists portray ourselves and are perceived by all the non-scientists out there – and don’t forget for a second that they vastly outnumber us. We can’t screw this up.

      Trust me, I’m a scientist…

      1 Sadly, I have not found the ideal way of applying these rules. Please do let me know if you’ve figured it out.

    • Resume posting

      Sunday, 18 Oct 2009

      I was about as squeamish about starting a blog as someone who is actually likely to start one might be (and still do it). Why? Because I thought that bloggers are a seriously self-absorbed, navel-gazing, and kind of self-righteous bunch.

      A year after starting this blog, I proudly consider myself one of them.

      Being pulled in a million different directions lately, I tried imagining what ‘signing off’ would be like – just posting a ‘last post’ with a thank you and abandoning my blog. As a result, I got a kind of panicky feeling. I wouldn’t/couldn’t do without it – at least not yet!

      I haven’t had that much time to blog in the last few weeks, and that’s making me depressed. Maybe I need to start taking blog-breaks at work as other people do cigarette breaks or something. Right now, I barely have time to read a good post and ususally decide to come back later for comments. When I do, more often than not, so many comments have been posted since I ‘left’ that I don’t feel like spending time on catching up on the conversation.

      It was my one year blogiversary on Wednesday – I started blogging a year and 4 days ago. I was going to post that day for sure… but then it didn’t happen: we just came back from a one-week vacation today – and I am actually not sure how the time passed that quickly, but I didn’t get the writing done I hoped I was going to. Making things worse, I had one complaint e-mail about not having posted in such a long time in my inbox today, and I read a friend’s message on facebook with the subject line ‘resume posting’ – he was looking for job-seeking advice – to mean that I should bloody well get my act together and start blogging more again.

      I can’t make any promises because the weeks ahead will be nuts at work, but I’ll try. Meanwhile, here are some of the posts I have enjoyed most over the course of this year, on some of my absolute favourite blogs with such consistently good writing that I sometimes hate these people a little bit for their great ideas, creativity and writing skills!

      Although the list is a little random (and very incomplete – lack of time, of course!), I would like to – fittingly – start with:

      Stephen Curry’s blogiversary post.
      Flags of our daughters
      is also on Stephen’s blog, Reciprocal Space.

      Dishwashers and panic attacks
      Look at my cat and
      Distant friends
      on Eva Amsen’s Expression Patterns

      In which I have seen the future of science, and it is male
      on Jenny Rohn’s Mind the Gap

      And just to keep you busy, here is a list of some of my own favourite posts:

      I couldn’t help noticing
      Self-censorship
      Facing the dragon
      No Sir, she is not a bullshit artist
      I am knot dumb
      A tale of fishermen, a driven lady and a research lab at the edge of a fjord
      Dear senior PI,
      Worms touching worms

      Please feel free to add your own favourite posts in the comments. Come on, the list up there is so deplorably incomplete, help me out?

    • A day in our lives

      Thursday, 24 Sep 2009

      She

      The alarm goes off at 5:30 am: this is as late as I can get away with. There is no time to hit the snooze button or just lie there for a minute – if I hit the snooze button or stay lying in bed for even just a little bit longer, chances are I’ll fall back asleep.

      So I get up and get the coffee-maker going. The first cup of coffee in my hand, I sit down with my laptop and check what’s been going on in the world while I was asleep.

      At 5:48 or thereabouts, I realize that I still need to take a shower, wash and dry my hair, get dressed in a respectable manner, and get my lunch packed – at this point, I have 32 minutes for all that. I start rushing. I forget to put in my very pretty new earrings (which my son helped me pick) and regret that later.

      I leave the house (most mornings, my two guys are still sleeping) at 6:20 and walk to the bus station. Then I catch the train into Hamburg at 6:52. I manage to grab a seat because my tactics are ruthless. I may get my laptop out and do some work or writing. After another train (the S-Bahn) and bus ride, I arrive at work at 8:00. I check my calendar for the day if I haven’t already done that on my iphone during the train ride.

      The day goes by with very long meetings, typing up and circulating minutes for the more important ones of those, getting ever more familiar with the diplomacy and politics involved in this big international project, having discussions with co-workers on how to organize the many different things that need to be done for the project and setting up the company, actually doing those things, coming up with more ideas, being frustrated with slow or ineffective progress and pleased when something comes together – and constantly adding to my to do list.

      Most days, I leave the office just after 5:00 pm to catch the bus, S-Bahn, train and bus that take me back home just before 7:00 pm. On the ride, I do some work and try to tune everything out around me, especially those really loud and annoying conversations. I have dinner with my husband and son, we chat, goof around, and talk about how the day went. After dinner, I quickly check my son’s homework. Then he goes to bed and I read him a story. We talk a bit more, then he falls asleep.

      My husband and I chat a bit, wrap up some more stuff that needs to be done in the household, maybe I get to do some writing. Often I do a little more work. Relatively early, we go to bed so we can catch enough sleep for the next day. I lie there for a bit, wondering whether I have ‘done enough’, whether my son is really ok with me having so little time for him during the week, and whether I will ever get caught up on my to do list. Or will ever be able to fit more running into my schedule again. And whether I can or should be able to afford a car for my commute.

      He

      My husband gets up at around 6:30 and gets ready for the day. He packs our son’s breakfast snack and makes sure he has all of his stuff for school. Then he wakes my son up and tries to make him get dressed without major drama.

      At 7:40, the two get on their bicycles and ride to school. The class starts at 8:00. Straight from the elementary school, my husband goes to his German lessons – 4 hours a day, 5 days a week – where he gets thoroughly confused by that awful German language together with people of all ages from Iran, Irak, Afghanistan, Hungary, Brazil, Russia, Thailand, …all over. During break, he has a quick coffee and a chat with one of the guys from Irak and one from Iran, and they find out that they pretty much think the same about Dubya and Cheney. Thank goodness they’re gone.

      Back in class, he gets a little bit of help with the exercise from the Hungarian lady sitting next to him, who has already been in Germany a little longer and whose German is better. During the next break, there are delicous cookies baked by the Hungarian lady. Tomorrow, promises the Russian lady, she will bring cake. The competition is on.

      When he gets home, my husband does what needs doing in the household: laundry, cleaning, shopping. Maybe he has time to go for a bike ride. He does his homework. Then it’s already time to pick our son up from school. If it’s a Thursday, the two go to football – otherwise, they come home and play. Some days, our 8 year old upstairs neighbour comes down to play – she doesn’t speak English, but they manage to communicate. If necessary, our son translates. Often they play ‘school’, and she is the teacher.

      It’s not too long before I am home.

    • John Cullen holds the Killam Chair in Ocean Studies at Dalhousie University in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He spends a lot of time thinking about and investigating the effects of large-scale iron fertilization of the ocean. Together with colleagues, he has published an opinion piece on the topic in the 16 September issue of Nature.

      What do you find the most fascinating oceanographic phenomenon?

      The global ocean carbon and nutrient cycles — The Cycle of Life and Death in the Sea. It is exquisitely complicated and fundamentally simple at the same time.

      If you had unlimited funds for your research — or other activities — what would you do, and why?

      I would fund a research group of about 5 investigators for five years at a time (renewable, based on progress and a research plan) to address the key environmental questions of our time. This core funding would allow them to retain staff, train students and compete for additional funding without the stressful and inefficient need to fund research through a patchwork of grants from multiple, inherently uncertain sources.

      What is your stance on using ocean iron fertilization as a possible ‘climate mitigation strategy’?

      Answer 1: The intention of ocean iron fertilization (OIF) is to move atmospheric carbon dioxide to the deep ocean by fundamentally altering marine food webs and biogeochemical cycles. Vast expanses of ocean would have to be transformed — almost instantaneously compared to what has occurred in glacial-interglacial cycles — for OIF to have a significant influence on atmospheric carbon dioxide. Unwanted downstream effects such as anoxia, reduced primary production and nitrous oxide production have been identified, but their likely extent is unknown. These effects would be cumulative and scale dependent, however, and the only way to test for them would be to alter much of the ocean system, perhaps irreversibly, before crucially important negative effects could be detected with statistical confidence. The risk of doing this does not compare well to even the most optimistic predictions of potential climate mitigation.

      Answer 2: For ocean fertilization to have any significant influence on the course of climate change, vast expanses of ocean would have to be fundamentally altered, year after year, for many decades — and marine ecosystems would have to respond like the most optimistic of models. Experiments to date have already shown that the ocean is not so simple and predictable, and we know that we would only be able to assess some of the most worrisome potential side effects after conducting widespread fertilization for years, possibly altering the ocean irreversibly. Ocean fertilization is not worth the risks involved — it’s time to move on.

      If you could choose, what would you like to see the grant money that is being spent on iron fertilization experiments being used for instead?

      In many countries there are no public sector research funds for iron fertilization, even though fertilization experiments could address fundamental questions about how ocean ecosystems work and interact with the global climate. It is possible that the controversy over commercial iron fertilization has choked funding for such important research. The world needs to know what the relentless increase of atmospheric carbon dioxide and associated climate change is doing to the ocean and the earth’s climate system, and research on iron and ocean productivity will provide key answers. The talented and highly skilled scientists who are focusing on carbon sequestration from intentional iron fertilization should be freed to address fundamental questions about the ocean and climate change.

      Do you think that the oceanographic research community has done all they can to communicate real information on ocean fertilization to the public?

      Scientists have tried very hard to communicate real information on ocean fertilization to the public. For example:

      • Journalists always find knowledgeable scientists willing to comment on the issue for the record. Over the years, dozens of articles have been published in newspapers and magazines, with quotes from more than one side of the issue.
      • Scientists have organized international meetings, for example a symposium in 1991 and workshops in Washington D.C. in 2001 and one at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in 2007. Each of these provided summaries for the public and policy makers. An issue of the magazine Oceanus, published by the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, is an excellent example.
      • Scientists have accepted invitations to speak about ocean fertilization at a variety of meetings, including those attended by policy makers and managers — I have presented a dozen such lectures.

      Recently, Aaron Strong, Penny Chisholm and I published a critical review of the ocean fertilization controversy, intended for a broad audience, and the Royal Society issued a policy statement that includes a clear assessment of ocean fertilization.

      But it is true that oceanographers have not had much success communicating “real information” on ocean fertilization to the public. In my opinion, this is because the mainstream media must impose a very strong filter on what is presented to the public. They want clear, simple and direct messages that anyone can understand, and generally they want information that makes or supports headlines.

      As an example, these are the headlines resulting from a paper by Behrenfeld et al. in Nature:

      Tropical seas are threatened by famine as warming quickens (The Guardian)
      Global warming killing marine life (Times of India)

      The headlines are wildly inaccurate. The real information is much less sensational. The authors studied records for a decade, strongly influenced by El Niño conditions — they claim, with some justification, that their results can provide insight on how future climate change might influence the ocean, but they also make it clear that their study could not distinguish natural variability from human-induced climate change. How did their research results turn into the headlines above?

      So my concern is that, to reach the public on the issue of ocean fertilization through media outlets, the message from scientists must either be sensational or highly topical — i.e. coincident with a major newsworthy event. Our challenge as scientists is to report science news with verve and pith. But we must never sacrifice accuracy.

      What do you see as the role of editors and science journalists in this?

      It is the job of editors and science journalists to push hard for high impact messages. But we must all be mindful that accuracy is the foundation of responsible journalism. When scientists and editors or journalists make the extra effort to work cooperatively, news articles can be informative, entertaining, and accurate. In particular, if a journalist allows the scientist to review text for scientific accuracy, the product can be improved greatly without the author sacrificing control of content. I realize that this is not always possible, but it does work.

      One of your current projects involves using phytoplankton – microscopic algae — as a source of biofuel. What are your hopes for this?

      To grow marine algae commercially, there is no requirement for farm land. Also, marine algae can be grown without a need for precious freshwater resources, which will become increasingly important in coming decades. The carbon footprint of algal production and consumption will be small.
      Because of this, I hope that algae will fulfill their promise in providing a sustainable source of fuel and as a significant source of protein, for example as a feedstock.

      What was the most exciting project you were ever involved in?

      On a personal level, perhaps it was a project that Patrick Neale from the Smithsonian, Richard Davis and I (with others) pursued for about 10 years. We described the effects of ultraviolet radiation from ozone depletion on photosynthesis of phytoplankton in the Antarctic. It was an immensely challenging project, and I think that we got it right. We neither found that ozone depletion would destroy marine ecosystems, nor that it was harmless, so the work did not make headlines. But the science was sound.
      More broadly, it was the Coastal Ocean Observatory that we set up in Lunenburg Bay, Nova Scotia. The project ran from 2002 to 2008. We developed an ocean monitoring and forecast system that provided data to users on the web, through Google Earth (before Google Ocean was conceived), and on cell phones. We also used the data to guide forecasts of weather, sea level, waves, currents, and even biological responses in the bay. More than 100 researchers worked on the project over the years until the successful project was terminated due to lack of funding. We were among the leaders in global development of coastal ocean observing systems. Now we are regrouping.

      Concerning your idea about ocean forecasts – do you think news flashes on current oceanographic phenomena would be interesting, for example on current toxic blooms, oxygen minimum zones or, as a recent example, ice shelves breaking off in the Antarctic?

      I feel very strongly that the weather channels and other outlets should present regular “Ocean Minute” segments with well illustrated “real” examples of oceanographic phenomena like those you describe. If done well, it would catch on. The ocean is news!

      Do you think having these kinds of news items will increase as events accelerate?

      People who watch weather channels regularly — and there must be a lot of them out there — almost certainly learn to appreciate weather and weather systems by watching the animations and hearing the explanations. They are fascinated and they ask questions. It will be the same with the ocean, if the material is well presented. Then viewers will start to appreciate how important the ocean is to the Earth and all its inhabitants. As people learn about the many types of events and changes in the ocean, and realize that they affect us all, the importance of reporting will increase.
      If we as a society don’t engage with the Earth and the changes we are making to it, we are headed for big trouble. We must get informed and involved. We cannot pretend that everything will be OK with business as usual.

      Do you think that OIF may, in many cases, be portrayed as a viable climate remediation option because it’s what people want to hear – along the lines of ‘we can fix it after all’?

      I think that it is inherent in human nature to look for creative solutions to big problems. Look at the triumphs in agriculture, architecture, medicine, and communications technology. We are accustomed to thinking that growth can continue indefinitely, fueled by innovation. So it is natural for many to think that this is one more problem that humans can fix.

      Evidence is accumulating that there is no easy fix to this one.



      Commercial ocean fertilization, which would involve validated carbon credits, must demonstrate that the iron-induced bloom would not have otherwise occurred. This satellite chlorophyll a image shows the LOHAFEX bloom, designated by a red circle. Three other blooms have been circled in black. How would one prove that the human influenced waters, if left alone, would not have bloomed like the neighboring waters. Image source: LOHAFEX weekly report no. 6
      (From A. Strong, J.J. Cullen and S.W. Chisholm, submitted to Oceanography)

    • Absolutely shameless

      Tuesday, 08 Sep 2009

      At long last, the theme section on the ethics of science journalism that I put together at Inter Research is finally completely complete. Yes, that includes an introduction – I read the proof and trust that it will be posted shortly. Go read the article by Maxine if you’ve managed to miss it before (or any of the other fantastic contributions).

      There’s only one thing missing… an image for the front page.

      I would be extremely grateful for any brilliant (or even a not so brilliant) idea of how to illustrate science journalism ethics. The only vague idea I’ve come up with is a fake photo with all our most favourite headlines: ‘Scientists have discovered…’ ‘…according to scientists, this may reduce…’ ‘A cure for…’. Surely, any one of you can do better than that!

      And yes, this is a shameless plug.

    • News from the tower of Babel

      Thursday, 27 Aug 2009

      This morning, I had a news release from the US National Science Foundation in my inbox: a new ice coring record was set in Greenland this season. That is good news in itself, since it will give climate researchers a lot of data on past periods of rapid warming, which hopefully can give us a clue as to what might happen next in this big experiment we are part of.

      But that aspect of the news release alone was not amazing to me – despite the fact that I have an inkling of the logistics, meetings and preparations that must have gone into this. What’s amazing is that they pulled this of with a team of people from 14 different countries… it just so happens that the European XFEL also involves 14 countries.

      It’s two months and a day now that I have been involved with this project. In this short amount of time, I have already experienced a lot of excitement: in July, Prime Minister Putin finally signed the documents needed to release the funds from Russia – with a contribution of a few hundred million Euro, Russia is the second largest shareholder in the project. This lead to a date being set for a ‘cross-checking conference’ at which the five different language versions will be compared and initialed – which in turn frees the way for the international Convention on the construction of the facility to be signed; probably later this year. This also means that a limited liability company under German law can be founded, which is the chosen business model for the project since it allows the different countries’ contributions to be distributed formally as shares.

      By the way, you read correctly up there – the Convention is, for now, being translated into and signed in six different language versions: English, German, French, Russian, Italian and Spanish. Although this is nothing compared to the 23 official languages of the EU, this can be tricky because of subtle differences in the languages themselves as well as in the way certain terminology is used. It is also tricky because of the different ways the meaning of a word in other languages may be interpreted – for example, the word ‘may’ may have been supposed to mean ‘it is possible, go ahead’ – but could be read as ‘we might say no if you ask’.

      I learned what seems to be an open secret among diplomats during a day-long meeting with representatives from most of the 14 countries on Tuesday: if someone has to ask for clarification in a case like that, the trust among the different parties is essentially broken: at this international level, there has to be a certain amount of confidence that each of the partners will do their part, that they will do what they said they would do.

      International collaborations – the generous sharing of funds and expertise – are the only way to go for projects on a scale like that of the European XFEL. Even big ‘national’ projects are impossible without the participation of scientists, engineers and students from different countries.

      I have come into this project just as things seem to be falling into place – but no time to rest: this is only the beginning of it and the bulk of the work is ahead of us. Ok, what we are doing is a tad bigger than drilling a buch of ice cores – but the Greenland story is encouraging news nonetheless.

    • It's a control thing, dummy

      Monday, 24 Aug 2009

      I enjoyed Science Online London 2009. One topic that seemed to come up in different sessions, particularly on Friday at the wonderful FringeFrivolous, is PR. Here is a loose collection of things that I heard people said about it:

      • it’s a paid form of lying (ok, that was David Colquhoun)
      • there should be funds in every project to do it
      • PR needs better PR
      • it’s frustrating that PR folks often get the science wrong
      • there should be more science graduates (as opposed to arts graduates) doing it.

      The topic ‘blogging for the man’ on Friday prompted a spirited discussion on what goes on when you’re not blogging for yourself but for your employer, or when your blog is on your institution’s website.

      Almost everything that was said seemed to point to a fairly obvious inherent conflict: blogging is about saying what you want to say when you want to say it and in the words you choose – i.e. almost absolute freedom of expression. PR is about controlling the message – even if, in the case of science institutions, this may be happening with inherently ‘good’ intentions.

      When I started this new job, I naturally thought that I’d like to blog about aspects of it. To gauge early on what would be acceptable, I went straight to our PR department. Who promptly suggested that, sure, I could blog about the European XFEL, but they’d just have a look at what I wrote beforehand.

      At which point the floor seemed to open up beneath me.

      Honestly: no way. Not on my personal blog, which I write in my spare time (and that does include lunch breaks). Instead, I have been focussing on the things I don’t suspect will need PR involvement. So far, so good. And by the way: if I sound enthusiastic in my posts, it’s because I actually am. So, unless bloggers and PR departments develop some mutual trust, I just don’t think the words will come easily.

      What I do wonder more and more though is whether science blogging really is about science communication and outreach – I haven’t made up my mind yet, but this post is pretty interesting – oh, and look at how much of all this was already said in this discussion!

    • It's a numbers game

      Friday, 14 Aug 2009

      A long time ago in the last century – a timid biology student – I was temping at Cargill, a big international corporation that trades in just about anything. Their offices in Hamburg were rather inconspicuous: not in one of the areas you’d think a big business would be located, and certainly not in a posh building – any old company could have been in there.

      So I remember vividly when, one day, I had worked late and a fax came in while I walked by. What does a good temping student do? Pick up the fax and dutifully put it in the appropriate pigeonhole.

      Staring intensely at it while looking over my shoulder Accidentally catching a glimpse of what was on the fax, I was scandalized to see that this was some kind of budget statement over tens of millions of D-Mark. Never mind the question of what this was doing coming in on the main fax line – I had no idea that this joint was making that much money! Although, looking back, it might have occurred to me at some point, considering they have branches all over the world and their brokers were making big deals all day long in the next room. Anyway: at that point in my life, even knowing about that kind of money scared me.

      Fast forward to my job with the US Antarctic Program years later. There, it quickly had to become routine to watch over relatively big budgets covering all consumables and equipment used on a science cruise. I had to make a case for the purchase of instruments that cost way more than my annual salary on quite a few occasions, and track spending from a budget many times that amount.

      Of course, this pales in comparison to being involved in a project that costs over one billion euro. Although, once you get used to it, the numbers start rolling off your tongue quite easily – construction will cost a few hundred million? – not so surprising perhaps, since we’re digging a 3.6 km tunnel in the Hamburg metropolitan area that has to be fitted with high-tech equipment. An individual country contributing a few per cent to the total cost doesn’t sound like much, until you convert this to the actual amount of some tens of millions of euros.

      In the end, as always, budget numbers simply need to add up.

      What’s in a billion, eh?


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