Browse our Brain & Behavior 2019 Catalog

Our new Brain & Behavior catalog includes an explanation for why your personal traits are more innate than you think, a revealing insider’s account of the power—and limitations—of functional MRI, and a guide to the latest research on how young people can develop positive ethnic-racial identities and strong interracial relations.

If you’re attending the Society for Neuroscience meeting in San Diego this weekend, please join us at Booth 220, or stop by any time to see our full range of brain & cognitive science titles and more.

 

Written by one of the world’s leading pioneers in the field, The New Mind Readers cuts through the hype and misperceptions surrounding these emerging new methods, offering needed perspective on what they can and cannot do—and demonstrating how they can provide new answers to age-old questions about the nature of consciousness and what it means to be human.

 

What makes you the way you are—and what makes each of us different from everyone else? In Innate, leading neuroscientist and popular science blogger Kevin Mitchell traces human diversity and individual differences to their deepest level: in the wiring of our brains. Deftly guiding us through important new research, including his own groundbreaking work, he explains how variations in the way our brains develop before birth strongly influence our psychology and behavior throughout our lives, shaping our personality, intelligence, sexuality, and even the way we perceive the world.

 

Today’s young people are growing up in an increasingly ethnically and racially diverse society. How do we help them navigate this world productively, given some of the seemingly intractable conflicts we constantly hear about? In Below the Surface, Deborah Rivas-Drake and Adriana Umaña-Taylor explore the latest research in ethnic and racial identity and interracial relations among diverse youth in the United States. Drawing from multiple disciplines, including developmental psychology, social psychology, education, and sociology, the authors demonstrate that young people can have a strong ethnic-racial identity and still view other groups positively, and that in fact, possessing a solid ethnic-racial identity makes it possible to have a more genuine understanding of other groups.

Mohamed Noor: Con vs. Con

Mohamed Noor, taking a break from academic conferences with a trip to DragonCon.

My public presentations span two universes, both figuratively and sometimes semi-literally. I speak at scientific conferences almost every year about my work as a professor, studying the evolutionary genetic changes that cause new species to form. As a Star Trek fan and someone who enjoys teaching scientific principles through the use of science fiction, I also speak at sci-fi conventions most years. As one might imagine, these two speaking venues share some attributes but also differ. Below, I describe the similarities and differences using the venues at which I speak the most often for each area: the annual Evolution conference (location and timing vary though usually in the United States and often late June) and DragonCon (annually on Labor Day weekend in Atlanta, Georgia, USA).

For context, the Evolution conference typically hosts 1500-2500 evolutionary biologists, and probably between one-third and half of those attending give some sort of presentation, whether that be an oral slideshow on their research or standing beside a poster and discussing the science presented on it. Meanwhile, DragonCon is a broad popular-culture convention allowing roughly 80,000 people to attend various “tracks”, with presentations in each track by actors, artists, gamers, scientists, authors, and many more.

For each of these outlets, the mechanics are similar. Attendee registration starts months in advance, and fees often increase as the date approaches. Each outlet invites “headliner” speakers who have some or all of their expenses paid for attending. Attendees are very eager to see the final schedules, and always whine on social media about how close to the event the schedules are released. Some events are anticipated to be more popular than others and receive larger rooms, and sometimes the organizers anticipate incorrectly, resulting in a cavernous empty room for one event and people packed into chairs and across the floor in another. Both feature vendor areas for purchasing items related to the outlet’s topic (e.g., books and software vs. artwork and memorabilia). And generally speaking, in both venues, the most rewarding and memorable features are rarely the presentations, but instead fun or fruitful interactions with other attendees. Few attendees in either venue go talk-to-talk for the entire duration, but much time is spent in hallways or off-site for eager discussions or other interactions.

Noor’s book, Live Long and Evolve, is an engaging journey into the biological principles underpinning a beloved science-fiction franchise.

However, the similarity in mechanics belies the difference in purpose which becomes more apparent when one looks at the presentations. For the Evolution conference, oral presentations are given because the scientist presenting wants to disseminate a very specific research result to the broader group of scientists in the audience. At DragonCon, oral presentations are delivered to entertain an audience or to educate them in a fairly general area. The former is primarily directed by the presenter’s intention, though audience members attend particular sessions when they feel that they may learn something interesting and/or relevant to their own research. The latter is aimed at giving the audience what they want. For example, when the cast of CW’s Arrow comes on stage at a session in DragonCon, they have no particular message that they seek to convey. Even in DragonCon’s science track, the intended message of any panel is quite general, such as “a better understanding of genetics”, and presenters are eager to answer questions, even those only marginally related to the stated topic. As a result, virtually every oral session at the Evolution conference comes as a single-person PowerPoint presentation that fills most of the allotted period, while at DragonCon, presentations are typically multi-presenter open question-and-answer sessions on a topic following a very brief introduction.

Lest one think that science fiction conventions are therefore more pure in intention than scientific conferences, I stress the financial model is very different. The top media guests at science fiction conventions receive tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars for their time, in addition to having all of their expenses covered. Since attendees are subsidizing these media guests’ travel and income as well as potentially providing a profit for the convention organizers, it makes sense to tailor things for the attendees. In contrast, the president of the non-profit Society for the Study of Evolution, who delivers a plenary address at the Evolution conference, only gets part of their travel expenses paid (no meals or per diem, partial housing) and reaps no honorarium, stipend, or other compensation from the society or conference. Most speakers at the Evolution conference get no financial compensation. Interestingly, science guests at science fiction conventions also get rather small compensation. For a recent other science fiction convention I attended, most of my travel expenses were paid, but for DragonCon each year, I only receive a waiver of the registration fee and that of a guest. Realistically, most of the 80,000 people who come to DragonCon don’t come to see me or the other scientists, but we’re happy to catch their attention and teach them some science when they’re not ogling Stephen Amell.

What do I love about each? I’m a researcher in evolutionary genetics, and I love telling my fellow scientists about our recent results as well as learning what they have discovered recently. It’s extremely intellectually stimulating and rejuvenating to go to scientific conferences. But I’m also a teacher, and I love getting people excited about geeky biology concepts and facts when perhaps they have not had much training in biology. My last talk at DragonCon earlier this month was on why there are so many humanoids in Star Trek, but sneakily, it was also a primer on many evolutionary biology concepts and recent results. Someone walking out of the room at the end commented to their friend, “I learned A LOT.” I could wish for no greater outcome than that.

 

Mohamed A. F. Noor, besides being a Trekkie, is a professor in the Biology Department at Duke University. He is the editor in chief of the journal Evolution and author of You’re Hired! Now What?: A Guide for New Science Faculty. He lives in Durham, North Carolina.

William R. Newman: Newton the Scientist or Newton the Alchemist?

Isaac Newton was an alchemist. Isaac Newton was perhaps the greatest scientist who ever lived. How do we reconcile these two statements? After all, to most modern people, alchemy was at best a delusion and at worst an outright fraud. But Newton’s involvement in chrysopoeia, the alchemical attempt to transmute metals, is undeniable. Thanks to a famous 1936 auction of Newton’s papers, it is now an indisputable fact that the famous physicist wrote extensively on alchemy. Careful estimates indicate that he left about a million words on the subject, or possibly somewhat more.  Nor can one assert that this material stemmed from Newton’s old age, when he had ceased to be a productive scientist. To the contrary, his involvement in alchemy occupied the most productive period of his life, beginning in the 1660’s, when Newton’s innovations in mathematics and physics were still in their formative stages, and continuing up to the early eighteenth century when he published his famous Opticks.

What then are we to make of Newton’s alchemical quest, which extended over more than three decades? In the last third of the twentieth century, when the academic field of the history of science still held alchemy in low esteem, scholars were perplexed at his devotion to the aurific art. Two complementary theories emerged that attempted to explain Newton’s involvement in alchemy. The first built on the modern idea that alchemy was a type of magic, and that Renaissance magic focused on the hidden sympathies and antipathies between material things. The reason why a lodestone attracted iron at a distance was because of a hidden sympathy between the two.   Couldn’t this sort of explanation have stimulated Newton to think of gravity in terms of an immaterial attraction? And wasn’t alchemy based on the idea that some materials react with others because of a similar principle of affinity? Thus the idea that Newton’s involvement with alchemy was part of a quest to understand gravitational attraction was born. But closer inspection shows that this historical explanation has little or no justification. When Newton actually does speak about gravity and alchemy in the same breath, as in his manuscript Of Natures obvious laws & processes in vegetation, he explicitly proposes a mechanical explanation of gravity that does not involve immaterial attraction. There is no evidence that his concept of action at a distance emerged from his alchemical studies.

The second major attempt to explain Newton’s alchemy in the last generation stemmed from a consideration of two fields: religion and analytical psychology. The pioneering psychologist Carl Jung had been arguing since the early twentieth century that alchemy was really a matter of “psychic processes expressed in pseudochemical language.” Moreover, Jung argued that the language of alchemy was remarkably similar to that of Gnosticism, a heterodox religious movement of the early Christian centuries that stressed the need for personal revelation (gnosis) and communication with God. The 1936 auction that revealed Newton’s alchemy to the world had also released millions of words in his hand that dealt with prophecy, biblical chronology, and the iniquity of the orthodox doctrine of the Trinity. Newton was now understood to be a passionate Antitrinitarian and a deeply religious thinker.

Wasn’t it possible, then, that his alchemy was merely an outgrowth of his religion, and that he saw the philosophers’ stone in its role of perfecting metals as a material surrogate for Jesus, the savior of souls? After all, alchemists had long justified their art as a divine pursuit, which God would only allow to fall into the hands of the worthy. Like the argument about alchemy and gravitational attraction, however, the claim that Newton’s interest in alchemy sprang from his religiosity falls on hard times when one examines the evidence. In reality, Newton never develops the religiously tinted themes that his alchemical sources sometimes convey. When they speak of the Holy Trinity, for example, Newton ignores the obvious religious sense and immediately tries to decode the reference into the form of an alchemical recipe. And if one turns to the roughly four million words that he wrote on religious topics, the references to alchemy are vanishingly small. For Newton, alchemy and religion were independent domains, each to be treated separately.  

Why then did Newton believe in the aurific art, and what was the empirical basis of his generation-long alchemical quest? By examining the evidence upon which early modern alchemists based their beliefs, one can better appreciate Newton’s goals. In their world, minerals and metals came into being and then died beneath the surface of the earth, forming gigantic trees whose branches presented themselves as veins and stringers of ore. This idea seems less naïve when one considers mineral entities such as wire silver, which really does seem to mimic organic life.

In this world, nature seemed to delight in transmutations, as Newton himself would say in the final editions of his famous Opticks. A famous example lay in the blue mineral vitriol found in mines, which could rapidly “transmute” iron into copper by plating it. The continual sinking down and rising up of living, fertile, mineral fumes led Newton to his own early theory of subterranean generation and corruption. Basing himself on the old alchemical principle that art should mimic nature, Newton spent decades attempting to arrive at ever more volatile metal compounds, which he hoped would act as destructive agencies that could break metals into their primitive components and thereby release their hidden life. In my ongoing attempt to understand Newton’s goals and methods, I have replicated a number of his experiments in the Indiana University Chemistry Department. The results, even if they have not revealed the secret of the philosophers’ stone, can certainly help us to understand why Newton persisted in his quest for the philosophers’ stone over the greater part of his scientific career.

William R. Newman is Distinguished Professor and Ruth N. Halls Professor in the Department of History and Philosophy of Science and Medicine at Indiana University. His many books include Atoms and Alchemy: Chymistry and the Experimental Origins of the Scientific Revolution and Promethean Ambitions: Alchemy and the Quest to Perfect Nature. He lives in Bloomington, Indiana.

Martin Rees on On The Future

Humanity has reached a critical moment. Our world is unsettled and rapidly changing, and we face existential risks over the next century. Various prospects for the future—good and bad—are possible. Yet our approach to the future is characterized by short-term thinking, polarizing debates, alarmist rhetoric, and pessimism. In this short, exhilarating book, renowned scientist and bestselling author Martin Rees argues that humanity’s future depends on our taking a very different approach to thinking about and planning for tomorrow. Rich with fascinating insights into cutting-edge science and technology, this book will captivate anyone who wants to understand the critical issues that will define the future of humanity on Earth and beyond.

Are you an optimist?

I am writing this book as a citizen, and as an anxious member of the human species. One of its unifying themes is that humanity’s flourishing depends on how wisely science and technology are deployed. Our lives, our health, and our environment can benefit still more from further advances in biotech, cybertech, robotics, and AI. There seems no scientific impediment to achieving a sustainable and secure world, where all enjoy a lifestyle better than those in the ‘west’ do today (albeit using less energy and eating less meat). To that extent, I am a techno-optimist. But what actually happens depends on politics and ethical choices.

Our ever more interconnected world is exposed to new vulnerabilities. Even within the next decade or two, robotics will disrupt working patterns, national economies, and international relations. A growing and more demanding population puts the natural environment under strain; peoples’ actions could trigger dangerous climate change and mass extinctions if ‘tipping points’ are crossed—outcomes that would bequeath a depleted and impoverished world to future generations. But to reduce these risks, we need to enhance our understanding of nature and deploy appropriate technology (zero-carbon energy, for instance) more urgently. Risks and ethical dilemmas can be minimized by a culture of ‘responsible innovation’, especially in fields like biotech, advanced AI and geoengineering; and we’ll need to confront new ethical issues—‘designer babies’, blurring of the line between life and death, and so forth—guided by priorities and values that science itself can’t provide.

Is there a moral imperative as well?

There has plainly been a welcome improvement in most people’s lives and life-chances—in education, health, and lifespan. This is owed to technology. However, it’s surely a depressing indictment of current morality that the gulf between the way the world is and the way it could be is wider than it ever was. The lives of medieval people may have been miserable compared to ours, but there was little that could have been done to improve them. In contrast, the plight of the ‘bottom billion’ in today’s world could be transformed by redistributing the wealth of the thousand richest people on the planet. Failure to respond to this humanitarian imperative, which nations have the power to remedy—surely casts doubt on any claims of institutional moral progress. That’s why I can’t go along with the ‘new optimists’ who promote a rosy view of the future, enthusing about improvements in our moral sensitivities as well as in our material progress. I don’t share their hope in markets and enlightenment.

A benign society should, at the very least, require trust between individuals and their institutions. I worry that we are moving further from this ideal for two reasons: firstly, those we routinely have to deal with are increasingly remote and depersonalised; and secondly, modern life is more vulnerable to disruption—‘hackers’ or dissidents can trigger incidents that cascade globally. Such trends necessitate burgeoning security measures. These are already irritants in our everyday life—security guards, elaborate passwords, airport searches and so forth—but they are likely to become ever more vexatious. Innovations like blockchain could offer protocols that render the entire internet more secure. But their current applications—allowing an economy based on cryptocurrencies to function independently of traditional financial institutions—seem damaging rather than benign. It’s depressing to realize how much of the economy is dedicated to activities that would be superfluous if we felt we could trust each other. (It would be a worthwhile exercise if some economist could quantify this.)

But what about politics? 

In an era where we are all becoming interconnected, where the disadvantaged are aware of their predicament, and where migration is easy, it’s hard to be optimistic about a peaceful world if a chasm persists, as deep as it is today’s geopolitics, between the welfare levels and life-chances in different regions. It’s specially disquieting if advances in genetics and medicine that can enhance human lives are available to a privileged few, and portend more fundamental forms of inequality. Harmonious geopolitics would require a global distribution of wealth that’s perceived as fair—with far less inequality between rich and poor nations. And even without being utopian it’s surely a moral imperative (as well as in the self-interest of fortunate nations) to push towards this goal. Sadly, we downplay what’s happening even now in far-away countries. And we discount too heavily the problems we’ll leave for new generations. Governments need to prioritise projects that are long-term in a political perspectives, even if a mere instant in the history of our planet.

Will super intelligent AI out-think humans?

We are of course already being aided by computational power. In the ‘virtual world’ inside a computer astronomers can mimic galaxy formation; meteorologists can simulate the atmosphere. As computer power grows, these ‘virtual’ experiments become more realistic and useful. And AI will make discoveries that have eluded unaided human brains. For example, there is a continuing quest to find the ‘recipe’ for a superconductor that works at ordinary room temperatures. This quest involves a lot of ‘trial and error’, because nobody fully understands what makes the electrical resistance disappear more readily in some materials than in others. But it’s becoming possible to calculate the properties of materials, so fast that millions of alternatives can be computed, far more quickly than actual experiments could be done. Suppose that a machine came up with a novel and successful recipe. It would have achieved something that would get a scientist a Nobel prize. It would have behaved as though it had insight and imagination within its rather specialized universe—just as Deep Mind’s Alpha Go flummoxed and impressed human champions with some of its moves. Likewise, searches for the optimal chemical composition for new drugs will increasingly be done by computers rather than by real experiments.

Equally important is the capability to ‘crunch’ huge data-sets. As an example from genetics, qualities like intelligence and height are determined by combinations of genes. To identify these combinations would require a machine fast enough to scan huge samples of genomes to identify small correlations. Similar procedures are used by financial traders in seeking out market trends, and responding rapidly to them, so that their investors can top-slice funds from the rest of us.

Should humans spread beyond Earth?

The practical case for sending people into space gets weaker as robots improve. So the only manned ventures (except for those motivated by national prestige) will be high-risk, cut price, and privately sponsored—undertaken by thrill-seekers prepared even to accept one-way tickets. They’re the people who will venture to Mars. But there won’t be mass emigration: Mars is far less comfortable than the South Pole or the ocean bed. It’s a dangerous delusion to think that space offers an escape from Earth’s problems. We’ve got to solve these here. Coping with climate change may seem daunting, but it’s a doddle compared to terraforming Mars. There’s no ‘Planet B’ for ordinary risk-averse people.

But I think (and hope) that there will be bases on Mars by 2100. Moreover we (and our progeny here on Earth) should cheer on the brave adventurers who go there. The space environment is inherently hostile for humans, so, precisely because they will be ill-adapted to their new habitat, the pioneer explorers will have a more compelling incentive than those of us on Earth to redesign themselves. They’ll harness the super-powerful genetic and cyborg technologies that will be developed in coming decades. These techniques will, one hopes, be heavily regulated on Earth; but ‘settlers’ on Mars will be far beyond the clutches of the regulators. This might be the first step towards divergence into a new species. So it’s these spacefaring adventurers, not those of us comfortably adapted to life on Earth, who will spearhead the post-human era. If they become cyborgs, they won’t need an atmosphere, and may prefer zero-g—perhaps even spreading among the stars.

Is there ‘intelligence’ out there already?

Perhaps we’ll one day find evidence of alien intelligence. On the other hand, our Earth may be unique and the searches may fail. This would disappoint the searchers. But it would have an upside for humanity’s long-term resonance. Our solar system is barely middle aged and if humans avoid self-destruction within the next century, the post-human era beckons. Intelligence from Earth could spread through the entire Galaxy, evolving into a teeming complexity far beyond what we can even conceive. If so, our tiny planet—this pale blue dot floating in space—could be the most important place in the entire cosmos.

What about God?

I don’t believe in any religious dogmas, but I share a sense of mystery and wonder with many who do. And I deplore the so called ‘new atheists’—small-time Bertrand Russell’s recycling his arguments—who attack religion. Hard-line atheists must surely be aware of ‘religious’ people who are manifestly neither unintelligent nor naïve, though they make minimal attempts to understand them by attacking mainstream religion, rather than striving for peaceful coexistence with it; they weaken the alliance against fundamentalism and fanaticism. They also weaken science. If a young Muslim or evangelical Christian is told at school that they can’t have their God and accept evolution, they will opt for their God and be lost to science. When so much divides us, and change is disturbingly fast, religion offers bonding within a community. And its heritage, linking its adherents with past generations, should strengthen our motivation not to leave a degraded world for generations yet to come.

Do scientists have special obligations?

It’s a main theme of my book that our entire future depends on making wise choices about how to apply science. These choices shouldn’t be made just by scientists: they matter to us all and should be the outcome of wide public debate. But for that to happen, we all need enough ‘feel’ for the key ideas of science, and enough numeracy to assess hazards, probabilities and risks—so as not to be bamboozled by experts, or credulous of populist sloganising. Moreover, quite apart from their practical use, these ideas should be part of our common culture. More than that, science is the one culture that’s truly global. It should transcend all barriers of nationality. And it should straddle all faiths too.

I think all scientists should divert some of their efforts towards public policy—and engage with government, business, and campaigning bodies. And of course the challenges are global. Coping with potential shortage of resources—and transitioning to low carbon energy—can’t be solved by each nation separately.

The trouble is that even the best politicians focus mainly on the urgent and parochial—and getting reelected. This is an endemic frustration for those who’ve been official scientific advisors in governments. To attract politicians’ attention you must get headlined in the press, and fill their inboxes. So scientists can have more leverage indirectly—by campaigning, so that the public and the media amplify their voice. Rachel Carson and Carl Sagan, for instance, were preeminent exemplars of the concerned scientist—with immense influence through their writings, lectures and campaigns, even before the age of social media and tweets

Science is a universal culture, spanning all nations and faiths. So scientists confront fewer impediments on straddling political divides.

Does being an astronomer influence your attitude toward the future?

Yes, I think it makes me specially mindful of the longterm future. Let me explain this. The stupendous timespans of the evolutionary past are now part of common culture (maybe not in Kentucky, or in parts of the Muslim world). But most people still somehow think we humans are necessarily the culmination of the evolutionary tree. That hardly seems credible to an astronomer—indeed, we could still be nearer the beginning than the end. Our Sun formed 4.5 billion years ago, but it’s got 6 billion more before the fuel runs out. It then flares up, engulfing the inner planets. And the expanding universe will continue—perhaps forever. Any creatures witnessing the Sun’s demise won’t be human—they could be as different from us as we are from slime mold. Posthuman evolution—here on Earth and far beyond—could be as prolonged as the evolution that’s led to us, and even more wonderful. And of course this evolution will be faster than Darwinian: it happens on a technological timescale, driven by advances in genetics and AI.

But (a final thought) even in the context of a timeline that extends billions of years into the future, as well as into the past. this century is special. It’s the first where one species—ours—has our planet’s future in its hands. Our creative intelligence could inaugurate billions of years of posthuman evolution even more marvelous than what’s led to us. On the other hand, humans could trigger bio, cyber, or environmental catastrophes that foreclose all such potentialities. Our Earth, this ‘pale blue dot’ in the cosmos, is a special place. It may be a unique place. And we’re its stewards at a specially crucial era—the anthropocene. That’s a key message for us all, whether or not we’re astronomers, and a motivation for my book.

Martin Rees is Astronomer Royal, and has been Master of Trinity College and Director of the Institute of Astronomy at Cambridge University. As a member of the UK’s House of Lords and former President of the Royal Society, he is much involved in international science and issues of technological risk. His books include Our Cosmic HabitatJust Six Numbers, and Our Final Hour (published in the UK as Our Final Century). He lives in Cambridge, UK.

Browse Our New Biology 2018-2019 Catalog

In our Biology 2018-2019 catalog you will find a host of new books, from a look at how genes are not the only basis of heredity, a new framework for the neuroscientific study of emotions in humans and animals, and an engaging journey into the biological principles underpinning a beloved science-fiction franchise.

If you will be at ESA in New Orleans, we will be in booth 303. Stop by any time to check out our full range of titles in biology and related fields.

For much of the twentieth century it was assumed that genes alone mediate the transmission of biological information across generations and provide the raw material for natural selection. In Extended Heredity, leading evolutionary biologists Russell Bonduriansky and Troy Day challenge this premise. Drawing on the latest research, they demonstrate that what happens during our lifetimes–and even our grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ lifetimes—can influence the features of our descendants. On the basis of these discoveries, Bonduriansky and Day develop an extended concept of heredity that upends ideas about how traits can and cannot be transmitted across generations.

 

The Neuroscience of Emotion presents a new framework for the neuroscientific study of emotion across species. Written by Ralph Adolphs and David J. Anderson, two leading authorities on the study of emotion, this accessible and original book recasts the discipline and demonstrates that in order to understand emotion, we need to examine its biological roots in humans and animals. Only through a comparative approach that encompasses work at the molecular, cellular, systems, and cognitive levels will we be able to comprehend what emotions do, how they evolved, how the brain shapes their development, and even how we might engineer them into robots in the future.

In Star Trek, crew members travel to unusual planets, meet diverse beings, and encounter unique civilizations. Throughout these remarkable space adventures, does Star Trek reflect biology and evolution as we know it? What can the science in the science fiction of Star Trek teach us? In Live Long and Evolve, biologist and die-hard Trekkie Mohamed Noor takes readers on a fun, fact-filled scientific journey.

Tanya Bub & Jeffrey Bub on Totally Random: A Serious Comic on Entanglement

BubTotally Random is a comic for the serious reader who wants to really understand the central mystery of quantum mechanics—entanglement: what it is, what it means, and what you can do with it. A fresh and subversive look at our quantum world with some seriously funny stuff, this book delivers a real understanding of entanglement that will completely change the way you think about the nature of physical reality.

Why a quantum comic?

TB: The idea came to us when we were working on an illustration for a somewhat tricky section of Jeff’s last book. What we wanted was for readers to have that “Aha!” moment of understanding when you experience something directly. Wouldn’t it be cool if instead of just telling you about how weird quantum mechanics is, we could somehow hand you an object that has all the weirdness of quantum entanglement baked into it, so that you get to play with it and see for yourself. We agreed that would be great, but how? That’s when we came up with idea of crafting a quantum object and making it “real” in the form of an experiential comic. The first strip was rough but we could sense that the feeling of understanding you got from it was really different and had a lot of potential. So we started to play around with the idea of doing a full-length quantum comic as a totally new way of giving people a direct understanding of what’s so puzzling and fascinating about quantum mechanics.

Sounds great but can a comic really get across such a difficult topic?

JB: When you think about it, the early guys like Bohr, Einstein, Heisenberg, and Schrödinger didn’t read about quantum mechanics, not initially anyway. They were looking at the results of experiments and trying to imagine a reality that could explain what they were seeing. The comic more or less puts you in their shoes. Yes, the object you get to play with is simpler than what they had to deal with, but mostly all we do is remove any distracting noise that’s not relevant to the mystery of entanglement, which Schrödinger recognized as “the characteristic trait of quantum mechanics, the one that enforces its entire departure from classical lines of thought.” So the reader gets to personally see how all the crazy stuff they came up with, like dead and alive cats, many worlds, apparent faster-than-light signaling, and so on, just sort of naturally falls out of the thing you are “holding” in your hands. We wanted people to experience that same feeling of having the rug pulled out from under their understanding of how the world works that Einstein, Bohr, and others had when they were first faced with quantum phenomena. There’s a very fundamental and disturbing challenge to your commonsense picture of reality when you see how something that seems so self-evident can turn out to be wrong.

What’s with the hands?

TB: Ah yes, the hands! So, the whole idea behind the book is to drag you into the puzzle of entanglement, right? We don’t know what you look like or who you are but we know that if you’re reading the book your hands are holding it. So we thought, what if we actually draw you, your hands, into the book and make you one of the main characters. Because in the end you’re the one who has to figure things out and you’re the one who has to grapple with the questions and ideas that continue to trouble physicists and philosophers to this day.

The other characters in the book, J and T, are obviously you, Jeff and Tanya, the two authors. Are the characters true to life and does their relationship reflect your father/daughter relationship?

JB: I don’t know what your relationship is with your parents or kids but imagine if you tried to write a book with one of them. You start to get a picture. There’s this relationship, this connection that is necessarily going to be a part of the process. It’s there, and what you want to do is use it to fuel the creative process, but you also can’t let it get out of control.

TB: To be honest, the writing of this book included shouting matches as well as huge laughs and in the end it was those things that made it so intense and so much fun. Anyway, because the book asks you, the reader, to be present, we felt it was only fair to  really be in there ourselves in some genuine way that reflected our own process in wrestling with these questions. So yes, while J and T are caricatures, they are in some sense real, and they capture the essence of our relationship and the experience of writing the book.

You also have historical characters like Einstein, Bohr, and Schrödinger in the book. How do they fit in?

TB: OK, so you’ve been playing with your designer quantum object, which as you know is a pair of entangled coins, and you are convinced that something is terribly strange about them and you now have all these questions buzzing though your head. That’s when “Einstein” comes along. He’s the first physicist you encounter. He takes a look at your coins and in his own words tells you what he thinks of them. Exactly why he finds them so very interesting and troubling. And by “in his own words” what I mean is direct quotes taken from some of his most well-known papers, but tweaked so that his words apply precisely to your coins, the entangled coins with which you are now intimately familiar. So in the course of the book you get to understand the subtle thinking of some of the greatest minds in physics, Einstein, Bohr, Schrödinger, Everett, von Neumann, about quantum mechanics, in their own words, but applied to something that you grasp in both the literal and figurative sense.

Einstein is represented as a delivery truck driver, Bohr is a Freudian therapist, von Neumann is a private eye. What was the thinking behind that?

TB: We really wanted to avoid the trap of having talking-head characters with long monologues. We felt that in order for the book to work we needed to take advantage of what comics are good at. Comics can put you in a place, give you an experience, have action, be funny, be outrageous. We really wanted our book to play on the strengths of the medium. So we gave each character a personality and job that somehow reflected the essence of their approach to quantum theory. Einstein as the blue-collar delivery truck driver brings the message of commonsense reasoning to the debate. Von Neumann as the private eye believes that a witness is required to close the case. Bohr uses psychotherapy to help you let go of your preconceived ideas about reality.

Does the book relate to modern-day thinking and technologies?

JB: Yes! You’ve probably seen stuff in the news about quantum technologies. We took the top three hot topics, quantum cryptography, quantum computing, and quantum teleportation and presented them in terms of three challenges that you have to solve using your wits and your entangled coins. By the end of this section you’ll have a personal understanding of how quantum entanglement can be used to do stuff that is otherwise impossible, since you will have just done it yourself. It’s quite funny too.

Who is this book for? Can someone with no background in quantum mechanics understand it, or is it for people who already know something about the subject?

TB: So, there’s no math at all in the book and in that sense anyone can pick it up. No previous knowledge required. So, really, there are no prerequisites other than being curious and open-minded. But the book will challenge some of your very fundamental ideas about how the world works. In other words, it really makes you think. If you are looking to shake up your conception of reality and you are willing to actively participate in the puzzles of quantum entanglement then you are exactly the kind of reader this book is written for. You could be someone who has never thought about quantum mechanics at all, or you could be someone who has an understanding of the math and formal arguments but don’t feel that you have fully grasped their conceptual significance. It’s also for people intrigued by the subject who may have read popular science books or seen documentaries on quantum mechanics but still feel like outsiders and don’t want to take someone else’s word for it anymore. I guess in the end it’s for people who want to really “get” the significance of entanglement for themselves.

Tanya Bub is founder of 48th Ave Productions, a web development company. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia. Jeffrey Bub is Distinguished University Professor in the Department of Philosophy and the Institute for Physical Science and Technology at the University of Maryland, where he is also a fellow of the Joint Center for Quantum Information and Computer Science. He lives in Washington, DC.

Eli Maor on Music by the Numbers

MaorThat music and mathematics are somehow related has been known for centuries. Pythagoras, around the 5th century BCE, may have been the first to discover a quantitative relation between the two: experimenting with taut strings, he found out that shortening the effective length of a string to one half its original length raises the pitch of its sound by an agreeable interval—an octave. Other ratios of string lengths produced smaller intervals: 2:3 corresponds to a fifth (so called because it is the fifth note up the scale from the base note), 3:4 corresponded to a fourth, and so on. Moreover, Pythagoras found out that multiplying two ratios corresponds to adding their intervals: (2:3) x (3:4) = 1:2, so a fifth plus a fourth equals an octave. In doing so, Pythagoras discovered the first logarithmic law in history.

The relations between musical intervals and numerical ratios have fascinated scientists ever since. Johannes Kepler, considered the father of modern astronomy, spent half his lifetime trying to explain the motion of the known planets by relating them to musical intervals. Half a century later, Isaac Newton formulated his universal law of gravitation, thereby providing a rational, mathematical explanation for the planetary orbits. But he too was obsessed with musical ratios: he devised a “palindromic” musical scale and compared its intervals to the rainbow colors of the spectrum. Still later, four of Europe’s top mathematicians would argue passionately over the exact shape of a vibrating string. In doing so, they contributed significantly to the development of post-calculus mathematics, while at the same time giving us a fascinating glimpse into their personal relations and fierce rivalries. As Eli Maor points out in Music by the Numbers, the “Great String Debate” of the eighteenth century has some striking similarities to the equally fierce debate over the nature of quantum mechanics in the 1920s.

What brought you to write a book on such an unusual subject? 

The ties between music and mathematics have fascinated me from a young age. My grandfather played his violin for me when I was five years old, and I still remember it quite clearly. He also spent many hours explaining to me various topics from his physics book, from which he himself had studied many years earlier. In the chapter on sound there was a musical staff showing the note A with a number under it: 440, the frequency of that note. It may have been this image that first triggered my fascination with the subject. I still have that physics book and I treasure it immensely. My grandfather must have studied it thoroughly, as his penciled annotations appear on almost every page.

Did you study the subject formally?

Yes. I did my master’s and later my doctoral thesis in acoustics at the Technion – Israel Institute of Technology. There was just one professor who was sufficiently knowledgeable in the subject, and he agreed to be my advisor. But first we had to find a department willing to take me under its wing, and that turned out to be tricky. To me acoustics was a branch of physics, but the physics department saw it as just an engineering subject. So I applied to the newly-founded Department of Mechanics, and they accepted me. The coursework included a heavy load of technical subjects—strength of materials, elasticity, rheology, and the theory of vibrations—all of which I did as independent studies. In the process I learned a lot of advanced mathematics, especially Fourier series and integrals. It served me well in my later work.

What about your music education?

I started my musical education playing Baroque music on the recorder, and later I took up the clarinet. This instrument has the unusual feature that when you open the thumb hole on the back side of the bore, the pitch goes up not by an octave, as with most woodwind instruments, but by a twelfth—an octave and a fifth. This led me to dwell into the acoustics of wind instruments. I was—and still am—intrigued by the fact that a column of air can vibrate and produce an agreeable sound just like a violin string. But you have to rely entirely on your ear to feel those vibrations; they are totally invisible to the eye.

When I was a physics undergraduate at the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, a group of students and professors decided to start an amateur orchestra, and I joined. At one of our performances we played Mozart’s overture to The Magic Flute. There is one bar in that overture where the clarinet plays solo, and it befell upon me to play it. I practiced for that single bar again and again, playing it perhaps a hundred times simultaneously with a vinyl record playing on a gramophone. Finally the evening arrived and I played my piece—all three seconds of it. At intermission I asked a friend of mine in the audience, a concert pianist, how did it go. “Well,” she said, “you played it too fast.”  Oh Lord!  I was only glad that Mozart wasn’t present!

Throughout your book there runs a common thread—the parallels between musical and mathematical frames of reference. Can you elaborate on this comparison? 

For about 300 years—roughly from 1600 to 1900—classical music was based on the principle of tonality: a composition was always tied to a given home key, and while deviating from it during the course of the work, the music was invariably related to that key. The home key thus served as a musical frame of reference in which the work was set, similar to a universal frame of reference to which the laws of classical physics were supposed to be bound.

But in the early 1900s, Arnold Schoenberg set out to revolutionize music composition by proposing his tone row, or series, consisting of all twelve semitones of the octave, each appearing exactly once before the series is completed. No more was each note defined by its relation to the tonic, or base note; in Schoenberg’s system a complete democracy reigned, each note being related only to the note preceding it in the series. This new system bears a striking resemblance to Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity, in which no single frame of reference has a preferred status over others. Music by the Numbers expands on this fascinating similarity, as well as on the remarkable parallels between the lives of Schoenberg and Einstein.

You also touch on some controversial subjects. Can you say a few words about them?

It is generally believed that over the ages, mathematics has had a significant influence on music. Attempts to quantify music and subject it to mathematical rules began with Pythagoras himself, who invented a musical scale based entirely on his three “perfect intervals”—the octave, the fifth, and the fourth. From a mathematical standpoint it was a brilliant idea, but it was out of sync with the laws of physics; in particular, it ignored other important intervals such as the major and minor thirds. Closer to our time, Schoenberg’s serial music was another attempt to generate music by the numbers. It aroused much controversy, and after half a century during which his method was the compositional system to follow, enthusiasm for atonal music has waned.

But it is much less known that the attraction between the two disciplines worked both ways. I have already mentioned the Great String Debate of the eighteenth century—a prime example of how a problem originating in music has ended up advancing a new branch of mathematics: post-calculus analysis. It is also interesting to note that quite a few mathematical terms have their origin in music, such as harmonic series, harmonic mean, and harmonic functions, to name but a few.

Perhaps the most successful collaboration between the two disciplines was the invention of the equal-tempered scale—the division of the octave into twelve equally-spaced semitones. Although of ancient origins, this new tuning method has become widely known through Johann Sebastian Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier— his two sets of keyboard preludes and fugues covering all 24 major and minor scales. Controversial at the time, it has become the standard tuning system of Western music.

In your book there are five sidebars, one of which with the heading “Music for the Record Books: The Lowest, the Longest, the Oldest, and the Weirdest.”  Can you elaborate on them?

Yes. The longest piece of music ever performed—or more precisely, is still being performed—is a work for the organ at the St. Burkhardt Church in the German town of Halberstadt. The work was begun in 2003 and is an ongoing project, planned to be unfolding for the next 639 years. There are eight movements, each lasting about 71 years. The work is a version of John Cages’ composition As Slow as Possible. As reported by The New York Times, “The organ’s bellows began their whoosh on September 5, 2001, on what would have been Cage’s 89th birthday. But nothing was heard because the score begins with a rest—of 20 months. It was only on February 5, 2003, that the first chord, two G-sharps and a B in between, was struck.” It will be interesting to read the reviews when the work finally comes to an end in the year 2640.

I’ll mention one more piece for the record books: in 2012, astronomers discovered the lowest known musical note in the universe. Why astronomers?  Because the source of this note is the galaxy cluster Abell 426, some 250 million light years away. The cluster is surrounded by hot gas at a temperature of about 25,000,000 degrees Celsius, and it shows concentric ripples spreading outward—acoustic pressure waves. From the speed of sound at that temperature—about 1,155 km/sec—and the observed spacing between the ripples—some 36,000 light years—it is easy to find the frequency of the sound, and thus its pitch: a B-flat nearly 57 octaves below middle C. Says the magazine Sky & Telescope, “You’d need to add 635 keys to the left end of your piano keyboard to produce that note!  Even a contrabassoon won’t go that low.”

Eli Maor has taught the history of mathematics at Loyola University Chicago until his recent retirement. He is the author of six previous books by Princeton University Press: To Infinity and Beyonde: the Story of a NumberTrigonometric DelightsThe Pythagorean TheoremVenus in Transit; and Beautiful Geometry (with Eugen Jost). He is also an active amateur astronomer, has participated in over twenty eclipse and transit expeditions, and is a contributing author to Sky & Telescope.

A Big Deal: Organic Molecules Found on Mars

by David Weintraub

MarsIn 1976, both Viking 1 and Viking 2 touched down on the surface of Mars. Both landed on vast, flat plains, chosen because they were ideal locations for landing safely. Perhaps the most important Viking experiment for assessing whether life could exist on Mars was the gas chromatograph and mass spectrometer (GCMS) instrument, built by a team led by Klaus Biermann of MIT. Ultimately, Biermann and his GCMS team reported a definitive answer: “No organic compounds were found at either of the two landing sites.” None, nada, zilch.

This scientific discovery had enormous importance for our understanding Mars. Summing up what we learned from the Viking missions in 1992, and in particular what we learned from the absence of any organics in the sampled Martian soil, a team of Viking scientists wrote, “The Viking findings established that there is no life at the two landing sites.” Furthermore, because these two sites were thought to be extremely representative of all of Mars, they concluded that this result “virtually guarantees that the Martian surface is lifeless everywhere.” 

If Mars is sterile, then SpaceX and NASA and Blue Origin and Mars One can all move forward with their efforts to land colonists on Mars in the near future. They needn’t wrestle with any ethical issues about contaminating Mars.

Fast forward a generation. In a paper published in Science last week, Jennifer Eigenbrode and her team, working with data collected by the Mars Science Laboratory (i.e., the Curiosity rover), report that they discovered organic molecules in Martian soil. The importance of this discovery for the possible existence of life on Mars is hard to overstate. The discovery of organics on Mars is a BIG deal.

Let’s be careful in discussing organic molecules. An organic molecule must contain at least one carbon atom and that carbon atom must be chemically bonded to a hydrogen atom. All life on Earth is built on a backbone (literally) of organic molecules (DNA). And life on Earth can produce organic molecules (for example, the methane that is produced in the stomachs of cows). But abiological processes can also make organic molecules. In fact, the universe is full of such molecules known as PAHs (polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons), which are found in interstellar clouds and the atmospheres of red giant stars and which have absolutely nothing to do with life.

Repeat: the presence of organic molecules on Mars does not mean life has been found on Mars. The absence of organic molecules in the Martian soil, as discovered in the Viking experiments, however, almost certainly means “no life here.” 

Were the Viking scientists wrong? Yes, in part. Their conclusion that the plains of Mars are representative of every locale on Mars was an overreach. When assessing whether the environment on Mars might be hospitable to life, local matters. That conclusion shouldn’t surprise anyone. After all, we find significant differences on Earth between the amount and kinds of life in the Mojave Desert and the Amazon River basin. Why? Water.

The vast, flat plains of Mars are free of organics, but they are unlike Gale Crater. Gale Crater was once a lake, full of water and dissolved minerals. We know now that certain locations on Mars that were warm and wet for extended periods of time in the ancient past have preserved a record of the organic molecules that formed in those environments.

Could life have played a role in creating these molecules?  Maybe, but we don’t know, yet. We do know, however, where to keep looking. We do know where to send the next several generations of robots. We do know that we should build robotic explorers that can drill deep into the soil and explore caves in places similar to Gale Crater.

Abigail Allwood, working at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, is building a detector called PIXL that will be sent to Mars on a rover mission that is scheduled for launch in 2020. PIXL will be able to make smart decisions, based on the chemistry of a rock, as to whether that rock sample might contain ancient, fossilized microbes. A later mission might retrieve Allwood’s PIXL specimens and bring them back to Earth for more sophisticated laboratory studies. With instruments like PIXL, we have a good chance of definitively answering the question, “Does Mars or did Mars ever have life?”

What does the presence of organic molecules in the Martian regolith mean, as discovered by Curiosity? Those molecules could mean that life is or once was present on Mars. Finding those molecules just raised the stakes in the search for life on Mars. The jury is still out, but the betting odds just changed.

Given all we currently know about Mars, should we be sending astronauts to Mars in the next decade? Do we have the right to contaminate Mars if is already home to native Martian microbes? These are important questions that are more relevant than ever. 

David A. Weintraub is professor of astronomy at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of Life on Mars: What to Know Before We GoReligions and Extraterrestrial Life: How Will We Deal with It?How Old Is the Universe?, and Is Pluto a Planet?: A Historical Journey through the Solar System. He lives in Nashville.

Browse our 2018 History of Science & History of Knowledge Catalog

We are pleased to announce our new History of Science & History of Knowledge catalog for 2018! Among the exciting new titles are an annotated edition of Albert Einstein’s travel diaries, a new look at the history of heredity, eugenics, and the asylum, and the latest volume of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein.

 

The Travel Diaries of Albert Einstein makes available the complete journal that Einstein kept on his momentous 1922 journey to the Far East and Middle East.

The telegraphic-style diary entries—quirky, succinct, and at times irreverent—record Einstein’s musings on science, philosophy, art, and politics, as well as his immediate impressions and broader thoughts on particular events and encounters. Entries also contain passages that reveal Einstein’s stereotyping of members of various nations and raise questions about his attitudes on race. This beautiful edition features stunning facsimiles of the diary’s pages, accompanied by an English translation, an extensive historical introduction, numerous illustrations, and annotations.

This volume offers an initial, intimate glimpse into a brilliant mind encountering the great, wide world.

In the early 1800s, a century before there was any concept of the gene, physicians in insane asylums began to record causes of madness in their admission books. Almost from the beginning, they pointed to heredity as the most important of these causes. Genetics in the Madhouse is the untold story of how the collection and sorting of hereditary data in mental hospitals, schools for “feebleminded” children, and prisons gave rise to a new science of human heredity.

In this compelling book, Theodore Porter draws on untapped archival evidence from across Europe and North America to bring to light the hidden history behind modern genetics. Porter argues that asylum doctors developed many of the ideologies and methods of what would come to be known as eugenics, and deepens our appreciation of the moral issues at stake in data work conducted on the border of subjectivity and science.

A bold rethinking of the asylum, Genetics in the Madhouse shows how heredity was a human science as well as a medical and biological one.

Volume 15 of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein covers one of the most thrilling two-year periods in twentieth-century physics. The almost one hundred writings by Einstein, of which a third have never been published, and the more than thirteen hundred letters show Einstein’s immense productivity and hectic pace of life.

Between June 1925 and May 1927, Einstein quickly grasps the conceptual peculiarities involved in the new quantum mechanics and investigates the problem of motion in general relativity, hoping for a hint at a new avenue to unified field theory. He also falls victim to scientific fraud and experiences rekindled love for an old sweetheart. He participates in the League of Nations’ International Committee on Intellectual Cooperation and remains intensely committed to the shaping of the Hebrew University in Jerusalem, although his enthusiasm for this cause is sorely tested.

THE COLLECTED PAPERS OF ALBERT EINSTEIN is one of the most ambitious publishing ventures ever undertaken in the documentation of the history of science.  Selected from among more than 40,000 documents contained in the personal collection of Albert Einstein (1879-1955), and 20,000 Einstein and Einstein-related documents discovered by the editors since the beginning of the Einstein Papers Project, The Collected Papers provides the first complete picture of a massive written legacy that ranges from Einstein’s first work on the special and general theories of relativity and the origins of quantum theory, to expressions of his profound concern with international cooperation and reconciliation, civil liberties, education, Zionism, pacifism, and disarmament. The open access digital edition of the first 14 volumes of the Collected Papers is available online at einsteinpapers.press.princeton.edu.

Theodore Porter on Genetics in the Madhouse

PorterIn the early 1800s, a century before there was any concept of the gene, physicians in insane asylums began to record causes of madness in their admission books. Almost from the beginning, they pointed to heredity as the most important of these causes. As doctors and state officials steadily lost faith in the capacity of asylum care to stem the terrible increase of insanity, they began emphasizing the need to curb the reproduction of the insane. They became obsessed with identifying weak or tainted families and anticipating the outcomes of their marriages. Genetics in the Madhouse is the untold story of how the collection and sorting of hereditary data in mental hospitals, schools for “feebleminded” children, and prisons gave rise to a new science of human heredity. A bold rethinking of asylum work, Genetics in the Madhouse shows how heredity was a human science as well as a medical and biological one.

I can’t help noticing that the title of this book, Genetics in the Madhouse, incorporates a double anachronism.

Well, yes, you’re right about that. Guilty as charged. The book begins in about 1789 which, besides being the year of the French Revolution, coincides pretty closely with a new model of care for the insane. These new institutions were not places of incarceration, but retreats or—the favorite word of the new era—asylums. They were idealized as orderly, restful places in the countryside where patients, laboring quietly, could recover their mental balance. In real life, it was scarcely possible to maintain order and quiet in these hospitals, especially as they grew to hold thousands of patients. The title word “madhouse” evokes the precarious situation of service personnel trying to apply psychological and moral principles to such recalcitrant populations. The most basic point of the book is that routines of record keeping in these disorderly establishments provided an indispensable basis of data for investigation patterns of biological inheritance. Although our word for this study, “genetics,” was first used by the naturalist William Bateson in 1905, biological heredity as a scientific problem had been taking shape for at least a century. Bateson chose to let this new science be defined by Gregor Mendel’s experiments on plant hybridization from the 1860s, which had changed everything, he said. I follow a recent turn of historical research that demonstrates a richer and more diverse tradition of hereditary study. My book emphasizes the key role of data gathering from mental hospitals and related institutions for this science of human heredity.

This is your fourth book with Princeton University Press, all of which have involved history of statistics, calculation, and measurement in the human sciences. Did you write this one to reveal the statistical background to genetics?

In fact, the statistics of heredity was already an important topic of my first book, written in the late 1970s and early 1980s in the context of a very different historiography. Genetics in the Madhouse had its moment of inspiration a decade ago when it occurred to shift my emphasis from ideals of statistical reasoning to the production and deployment of medical and scientific data. Although I at first had no idea of this, data was just emerging as a focus of historical research. The history of data has and obvious connection to history of statistics, but it has, I would suggest, a certain primordial aspect. Statistics presupposes data, whereas there are other strategies besides statistics for reasoning with data. I ended up spending a lot of time in archives trying to figure out the protocol when, as it usually happened, a relative of a prospective patient supplied the medical superintendent of an asylum with information for a line in the hospital admission book. From this point of origin, I could see how unit entries were combined into medical-administrative tables, merged into census statistics, and recombined to get at the relations of different variables. I had supposed until recently that most doctors didn’t care much for statistics, but now I found that many asylum doctors at least took their numbers very seriously. I quickly discovered that what I had thought of as sources of data for statistical analysis were much more than this. The doctors were already deeply engaged in investigating relationship of heredity among the diagnosed insane decades before statisticians like Karl Pearson began asking them for data on heredity.

On this basis, I began the backward phase of my research, trying to establish when and where these tables of inheritance of first arose. One possible source, a very precise one, is the medical inquiries carried out about 1789 by Dr. William Black in response to a furor over the madness of King George III. A better answer would be to link it to the asylum movement and to new standards of record keeping for public institutions.

But do you really think that administrative records could provide the basis for a natural science such as genetics?

Indeed that would be too simple. Quite a lot of the asylum record keeping really was passive and formulaic, but this was never the whole story. Black, who was responding to constitutional crisis, had to track down privately-held data from Bethlem (Bedlam) and assemble new tables giving evidence on the critical question of whether the king was likely to recover. By the 1830s, many asylum doctors understood their role not only in terms of relieving insane persons committed to their institutions, but also of advising the population at large on the preservation of mental health. Their interest in causes of insanity was allied to this public-health mission. Meanwhile, despite all the new asylums, insanity numbers were growing like crazy. It became more and more important to understand causes, especially hereditary ones. By the 1840s, a subset of asylum doctors were taking the study of heredity very seriously. While they depended on administrative records to keep tabs on the presumed causes, they also widened the field of data collection, for example to relative of patients. Insanity, and even its inheritance, became a topic for the national census. The doctors also worked to integrate data from diverse institutions and to track down every insane person in specific parishes in order to unravel the family relationships and reduce them to family trees or pedigrees. So the routine record keeping often went well beyond administrative routines.

Why did they become obsessed with hereditary causation?

In fact, the inheritance of traits and diseases, including of mental illness, was already by 1800 a folk category. If a newly-admitted asylum patient had a sister or uncle who behaved oddly, spoke incoherently, or committed suicide, spouses and children often mentioned this as indicating a hereditary factor. Asylum doctors were in a position to gather up reports like these, and their tables often showed heredity as the most important cause of insanity. To be sure, such numbers depended also on the attitude of the doctor. Still, the numbers provided a basis for stern warnings against marrying into families plagued by hereditary weakness, and these were quite common by the 1840s. The reality of eugenics as a professional medical concern long predated the word.

Didn’t Charles Darwin’s cousin Francis Galton launch the eugenics movement?

Certainly he was a key figure, and ever since 1900, when eugenics became famous, his name has been associated it. But it is unconvincing, and probably even a category mistake, to attribute a professional and popular movement like eugenics to the inspiration of any single individual. As it happens, Galton’s initial obsession with human heredity, and even his early methods for investigating it, owed something to the ideas and practices of asylum doctors. In the 1870s, when he carried out his study of the resemblances of twins, he knew enough to ask asylum directors and the families of patients for pertinent data. And Darwin, an early convert to Galton’s doctrines of inherited ability and weakness, had been worrying for decades about the possibility of hereditary weakness in his own family. He and his son George proposed studies using data from asylums and related institutions to determine if family marriages might bring on inherited weakness.

How long did it take for modern genetics to replace medical and social speculations about inherited weakness once Mendel’s laws at last were noticed in 1900?

The first scientists to take up Mendelian research were botanists. It was quickly incorporated into agricultural research, and there were some real successes by the 1910s, most famously in research on mutations in fruit flies. Quick generation times and the possibility of rigorous experimental control were very important for Mendelian research. Some, such as Bateson, simply assumed that criminality must be controlled by a single gene. The first research on inheritance of insanity and mental weakness was carried out by allies of by Charles B. Davenport, founder of the well-funded Eugenics Record Office at Cold Spring Harbor in New York. He more or less assumed that conditions like these, with no evident bacteriological or environmental causes, must be hereditary, and in a straightforwardly Mendelian way. His data and much of the expertise to deploy it came from professionals at asylums and special schools, and thus was continuous with long-standing traditions of institutional research on heredity. The primary novelty was their strong expectation that Mendel’s characteristic ratios, 3:1 and 1:1, should spring out from breeding results. And that is what they found 

There followed an international wave of Mendelian psychiatry and psychology in Britain, Germany, Switzerland, and Scandinavia as well as North America. At first almost everyone succeeded in getting the results they were looking for, but these were harshly criticized, especially by Pearson and his allies in London. The most serious and expensive Mendelian studies were carried out in Germany, most famously by the Munich psychiatrist Ernst Rüdin in alliance with the doctor and statistician Wilhelm Weinberg. Their results for inheritance of mental illness (dementia praecox) were about six times smaller than they expected. Although they did not give up on Mendelism, they adopted for practical purposes a more empirical approach, measuring how the presence of a trait of interest in the parents affected the characters of the offspring, and ignoring for the time being the presumed genetic factors.

By about 1930, Davenport’s findings on Mendelian inheritance of mental defects had become a scandal. While geneticist continue often to speak loosely of genes for traits like these, and find it impossible to ignore them, there is no prospect of a simple Mendelian explanation of schizophrenia or learning disabilities. Meanwhile, statistical investigations of inheritance of mental and psychological traits go on.

Weren’t eugenic researches on inheritance of mental illness and disabilities discredited by the terrible abuses of the Nazis?

While few these days are willing to own up to eugenic ambitions, eugenics never died. One of the first really terrible crimes of the Nazis was to murder hundreds of thousands of asylum patients. Genetics had some role in the justification and implementation of this policy, though rarely if ever let scientific arguments determine the implementation of policies like these. German research on psychiatric heredity from the Nazi period did not just disappear, but was cited and used for decades by researchers in Britain, Scandinavia, and North America, some of whom despised the medical-eugenic policies of the Nazi state.

Theodore M. Porter is Distinguished Professor of History and holds the Peter Reill Chair at the University of California, Los Angeles. His books include Karl Pearson: The Scientific Life in a Statistical Age, Trust in Numbers: The Pursuit of Objectivity in Science and Public Life, and The Rise of Statistical Thinking, 1820–1900 (all Princeton). He lives in Altadena, California.

Life on Mars: Imagining Martians

If you had the chance to travel to Mars, would you take it?

Astronomer David A. Weintraub thinks it won’t be long before we are faced with this question not as a hypothetical, but as a real option. Based on the pace of research and the growing private interest in space exploration, humans might be considering trips to Mars before the next century.

In his new book Life on Mars: What to Know Before We Go, Weintraub argues that would-be colonizers of the red planet should first learn whether life already exists on Mars. Just as colonization of various parts of Earth has historically decimated human, animal, and plant populations, so, argues Weintraub, will human colonization of Mars dramatically affect and likely destroy any life that might already exist on Mars. Before we visit, we need to know what – and whom – we might be visiting.

While scientists have yet to determine whether life exists on the red planet, they agree that if Martians do exist, they probably aren’t little green men. So where does our popular idea of Martians come from? Artists and writers have been imagining and depicting Martian life in a variety of ways since long before space travel was a reality. Check out these descriptions of imagined Martian life from over one hundred years ago.

Cover of The Martian, by George du Maurier

In George du Maurier’s 1897 gothic science fiction story The Martian, Martians are described as furry amphibians who are highly skilled in metalworking and sculpting:

“Man in Mars is, it appears, a very different being from what he is here. He is amphibious, and descends from no monkey, but from a small animal that seems to be something between our seal and our sea-lion….

“His five senses are extraordinarily acute, even the sense of touch in his webbed fingers and toes….

“These exemplary Martians wear no clothes but the exquisite fur with which nature has endowed them, and which constitutes a part of their immense beauty….

“They feed exclusively on edible moss and roots and submarine seaweed, which they know how to grow and prepare and preserve. Except for heavy-winged bat-like birds, and big fish, which they have domesticated and use for their own purposes in an incredible manner (incarnating a portion of themselves and their consciousness at will in their bodies), they have cleared Mars of all useless and harmful and mutually destructive forms of animal life. A sorry fauna, the Martian—even at its best—and a flora beneath contempt, compared to ours.”

“How the Earth Men Learned the Martian Language,” from Edison’s Conquest of Mars by Garrett P. Serviss

In Garrett Serviss’s Edison’s Conquest of Mars (1898), on the other hand, Martians are huge creatures, two to three times as tall as a human:

“It is impossible for me to describe the appearance of this creature in terms that would be readily understood. Was he like a man? Yes and no. He possessed many human characteristics, but they were exaggerated and monstrous in scale and in detail. His head was of enormous size, and his huge projecting eyes gleamed with a strange fire of intelligence. His face was like a caricature, but not one to make the beholder laugh. Drawing himself up, he towered to a height of at least fifteen feet.”

Edwin Lester Arnold, in Lieut. Gullivar Jones: His Vacation, published in 1905, describes Martians instead as “graceful and slow,” with an “odor of friendly, slothful happiness about them”:

“They were the prettiest, daintiest folk ever eyes looked upon, well-formed and like to us as could be in the main, but slender and willowy, so dainty and light, both the men and the women, so pretty of cheek and hair, so mild of aspect, I felt, as I strode amongst them, I could have plucked them like flowers and bound them up in bunches with my belt. And yet somehow I liked them from the first minute; such a happy, careless, light-hearted race, again I say, never was seen before.” 

“The old man sat and talked with me for hours,” from A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs

And in Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars, published in 1917, Martians are finally depicted as the little green men of the popular imagination:

“Five or six had already hatched and the grotesque caricatures which sat blinking in the sunlight were enough to cause me to doubt my sanity. They seemed mostly head, with little scrawny bodies, long necks and six legs, or, as I afterward learned, two legs and two arms, with an intermediary pair of limbs which could be used at will either as arms or legs. Their eyes were set at the extreme sides of their heads a trifle above the center and protruded in such a manner that they could be directed either forward or back and also independently of each other, thus permitting this queer animal to look in any direction, or in two directions at once, without the necessity of turning the head.

“The ears, which were slightly above the eyes and closer together, were small, cup-shaped antennae, protruding not more than an inch on these young specimens. Their noses were but longitudinal slits in the center of their faces, midway between their mouths and ears.

“There was no hair on their bodies, which were of a very light yellowish-green color. In the adults, as I was to learn quite soon, this color deepens to an olive green and is darker in the male than in the female. Further, the heads of the adults are not so out of proportion to their bodies as in the case of the young.”

To learn more about Martians in popular culture, the history of planetary astronomy, and the scientific search for life on Mars, read David Weintraub’s Life on Mars!

David Weintraub on Life on Mars: What to Know Before We Go

WeintraubDoes life exist on Mars? The question has captivated humans for centuries, but today it has taken on new urgency. NASA plans to send astronauts to Mars orbit by the 2030s. SpaceX wants to go by 2024, while Mars One wants to land a permanent settlement there in 2032. As we gear up for missions like these, we have a responsibility to think deeply about what kinds of life may already inhabit the plane—and whether we have the right to invite ourselves in. This book tells the complete story of the quest to answer one of the most tantalizing questions in astronomy. But it is more than a history. Life on Mars explains what we need to know before we go.

Why does Mars matter?

Are we alone in the universe? Earth might be an oasis of life, the only place in the universe where living beings of any kind exist. On the other hand, life might be as common across the universe as the hundreds of billions of stars and planets that populate it. Mars is the closest habitable world in the universe where we can begin to learn about extraterrestrial life. If life is common, if the genesis of life is possible given the right environment and the necessary elemental materials, some form of life might exist right next door, on Mars, and if life were discovered on Mars that is of an independent origin than life on Earth, we could safely predict that life is common throughout the universe. Such a discovery would be extraordinary. Mars Matters.

Haven’t we already discovered life on Mars?

Maybe. Maybe not. Some astronomers believe that evidence from NASA’s Viking Lander biology experiments strongly suggest the presence of past or present life on Mars. Other astronomers believe that evidence found in a meteorite from Mars is evidence of ancient life on Mars. Still others believe that methane gas discovered in the atmosphere of Mars is evidence for life on Mars today. However, no consensus exists. None of the data is definitive that would prove or disprove the hypothesis that Mars once harbored or still nurtures life. The jury is still out.

Could life on Mars and life on Earth be related?

Could be. In order for a meteorite to get knocked off Mars and arrive on Earth, several things must happen. First, an asteroid of significant size must hit the surface of Mars and some of the debris from that impact must be lofted off the surface intact and at high speed. The impact debris kicked off the surface then must drill a hole through the Martian atmosphere and emerge above the atmosphere with a high enough velocity (known as “escape velocity”) to escape the gravitational clutches of Mars. Then that object has to end up on an orbit that intersects with that of Earth. All of these things are improbable but possible. Have they actually happened?

A meteoritic breakthrough occurred in 1982, when the leader of the 1981–1982 U.S. search party looking for meteorites in Antarctica found a tiny, unusual-looking rock now known as ALH 81005, which showed mineralogical similarities to lunar rocks. By 1983, several teams of meteoriticists, working independently, had confirmed that this specimen was, without any doubt, a lunar meteorite. For the first time, we had evidence that meteorites can come from objects as large as our Moon.

Then, in 1985, a geochemist proved that the gases trapped inside air bubbles inside EETA 79001, another Antarctic meteorite, this one collected in 1979 in the Elephant Moraine region, were a perfect match to the gases found by NASA’s Viking lander in the atmosphere of Mars. Therefore, without any doubt, EETA 79001 itself was a piece of Mars. We now know of several dozen meteorites that are, without question, of Martian origin.

If a meteorite can travel from Mars to Earth (or vica versa), then life could be transported by this vehicle from one planet to the other.

Why should you care about microscopic Martians?

Do microscopic Martians matter? Yes. Microscopic Martians, if they exist, would be astoundingly important to our understanding of life in the universe. A second genesis, life that began completely independently of terrestrial origins, might have occurred on Mars. Even if life on Mars is limited to bacterial-sized beings, buried underground or hiding deep in a crevice where they are protected from dangerous ultraviolet radiation and cosmic rays and where they can find water, those beings would teach us something of enormous importance about the existence of life beyond Earth. Life on Mars that is independent of life on Earth would send us a clear message about exobiology: life could happen anywhere and everywhere that conditions allow. Alternatively, if we find microscopic life that is DNA-based, we also receive an enormously important message about exobiology and clues about our distant, evolutionary past: such a discovery would tell us that life is easily transported across interplanetary space. Once life gets started, it can spread, and thus, whether we are Martians or the Martians are us, we’re all related. Finally, if we discover that Mars is barren and sterile, without even microscopic Martians, we will know that we are more alone in the solar system and perhaps in the galaxy and universe than many of us currently think.

How Earth-like is Mars? And does that matter?

Mars is very nearly a twin of Earth. Like Earth, Mars is a small rocky planet with a solid surface and an atmosphere.  Mars orbits the Sun at a similar distance as Earth, where the amount of solar heating is sufficient, for at least part of every year, to allow the possibility of the existence of liquid water on at least parts of the surfaces of both planets. The length of the day and night of Mars — 24 hours, 39 minutes — is extremely similar to the day/night spin (24 hours) of Earth. The obliquity of Mars (the 25 degree tilt of Mars’ rotation axis with respect to the plane of its orbit around the Sun) is almost the same as the tilt of Earth (23.5 degrees). These tilts generate seasonal changes, and the seasonal changes of Mars are very similar to the seasons we find here on Earth. The polar caps on Mars, which are mostly water ice, closely resemble the ice caps on Earth. The thin Martian atmosphere behaves like the thicker atmosphere of Earth, with clouds, frost that condenses on the surface, and winds that blow across the surface of the planet. And Mars has large reservoirs of water, just like Earth.  Yes, differences exist. The mass of Mars is smaller than the mass of Earth; the density and composition of the Martian atmosphere are different from those of Earth; Earth has a strong magnetic field while Mars does not; Mars’ water is either frozen or buried deep beneath the surface, while most of Earth’s water is either frozen or liquid and is at or near the surface.  But if you’re looking for an Earth-like planet where Earth-like forms of life could thrive, Mars is a great place to look.

Why did you decide to write this book?  Why should someone read your book?

I think, without any doubt, that humanity will colonize Mars in the near future, perhaps within a decade, and most certainly by the end of the twenty first century. When we settle on Mars, we will contaminate Mars. If any life exists there today, we almost certainly will alter or destroy it in the same way that human and animal diseases have devastated the native species on every continent and island on Earth to which human explorers have extended their reach, putting life forms that have been isolated and protected from other life forms in harm’s way. After we place human colonies on Mars, we will lose the opportunity to discover, with certainty, whether Mars ever was or still is inhabited.

We have one chance to make these discoveries, and that is the present time before we colonize Mars. I think the knowledge we might gain about Mars and Martian life before we send colonists to the red planet is so unique and valuable that we humans should, collectively, debate whether the 2020s and 2030s are the right time to send the first wave of settlers to Mars. Perhaps we should wait just a bit longer, and let robotic exploration continue until the debate about life on Mars is settled. With this book, I hope to help trigger that public debate before it is too late.

David A. Weintraub is professor of astronomy at Vanderbilt University. He is the author of How Old Is the Universe? and Is Pluto a Planet?: A Historical Journey through the Solar System. He lives in Nashville.