Well that was an interesting experience

Small Hyde enters the world.

All well and healthy. More later.

How Americans distrust science

This week's Times Week in Review section sports a lead article by an ex-physicist, James Glanz, whose thesis is that the failure of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva is reminiscent of the giant abandoned pyramids of the Mayans: a symbol of our hubris in trying to understand too much.

Glanz doesn't use the word "hubris," with all the Greek mythological implications it entails, but substitutes the "your business model was bad" term "overreach." Nonetheless, his point is clear: we were trying to probe too far into the limits of the cosmos, and so naturally we were doomed for failure.

Well excuuuuuuse us for trying.

Glanz doesn't seem to have a problem with the experimental question itself: whether the Higgs boson (a) exists, and (b) underlies the concept of mass. (I'm no physicist, but I think finding out whether a particle is responsible for one of the most salient characteristics of our physical world is yeah, pretty important.) Instead his beef is that the electrical and magnetic problems with the LHC are a sign of our unwonted temerity in probing such questions.

I call serious bullshit. As the saying goes: If I knew what I were doing, it wouldn't be called an experiment. Yes, it's a vicious disappointment that there's no data out of the LHC yet, leaving hundreds of physics grad students with theory-only theses.

But if an experiment beset with unexpected problems is a sign that we are overreaching, then I guess I'm pretty much all washed up as a scientist, because most of my experiments are overrun with unexpected problems. I call myself a scientist because these problems don't make me don't throw up my hands and head for the bar (ok, sometimes) but instead cause me to find solutions, to troubleshoot, to analyze whether the problems are inherent to the experimental question or simply to the method in use.

Glanz's article reflects (embarrassingly, for an ex-scientist) the basic fear with which many Americans view science. If it doesn't work out right the first time, it's because we wanted too much! We tried to learn Something We Shouldn't Have. We angered the gods.

Just last night Dr Hyde and I were talking about our collective failure to teach the right lessons about science in school--that science is not so much a collection of facts as a form of rigorous critical thinking. I think Glanz's article is an extension of that problem: he equates a failure to obtain facts on schedule with a failure of science.

If more Americans understood that this idea was perniciously wrong, we might not be in the era of creationism - global warming denalism - disrespect for reality that we are. Thanks for helping, "Dr" Glanz.

Texting while driving

Normally when I am doing experiments, they only occupy about three-fourths of my brain. The remaining brain is answering email, thinking about other experiments, thinking about dinner, humming a little tune, whatever.

So you would think that I could perfectly well carry on a conversation and answer a few questions about what I'm doing while I do experiments. But no. With people watching, I forget which way caps twist to tighten. I forget to press important buttons. I drop things, like my experimental prep.

Today two people were watching me prep and (try to) carry out experiments, and it was borderline disastrous. (Some of this had to do with bad luck for the day, but then again why is it always on the days that my prep is a total failure that people are watching? They never seem to come by when I am my usual genius whiz self.)

And it got me to thinking, why is it so damn hard to do experiments when people watch? I have four explanations:

1) Observers make you self-conscious, leading to obvious problems with routine tasks of coordination that proceed most effectively without conscious control.

2) The cortical load imposed by answering even very easy questions about your experiments is far higher than one realizes.

3) A more hypothetical possibility: that there is a non-trivial burden placed on your brain simply by being in a social situation--i.e. with observers--so that even if those observers are silent, a surprising portion of your brain is being used to monitor them.

4) Though I routinely can spare a quarter of my brain for email etc., there are brief periods (as short as 5-10 s) during which I use all of it to focus on the experiment at hand, and any social burden is problematic.

Of course these are not mutually exclusive, though I would love to know whether anyone has ever studied the possible existence of effect #3.

The whole situation reminds me of the recent brouhaha over texting while driving (ed: who the hell was surprised that texting is bad for driving?!) and the attendant reminders that the "hands-free" policy espoused by many states is essentially useless, because it turns out that the mental load of carrying your end of the conversation, rather than the physical act of holding the phone, is the problem.

I wish the Senate would pass a law preventing me from having to train up other people on my experiments when I am very pressured for time by the impending bomb in my belly, and also all the rest of the time too because let's face it, that shit's annoying. If I get a petition going, you people will be the first to know.