Sean Carroll

Author: Sean Carroll

  • The Varieties of Crackpot Experience

    Frank Tipler is a crackpot. At one point in his life, he did very good technical work in general relativity; he was the first to prove theorems that closed timelike curves could not be constructed in local regions of spacetime without either violating the weak energy condition or creating a singularity. But alas, since then he has pretty much gone off the deep end, and more recently has become known for arguments for Christianity based on fundamental physics. If you closely at those arguments (h/t wolfgang), you find things like this:

    If life is to guide the entire universe, it must be co-extensive with the entire universe. We can say that life must have become OMNIPRESENT in the universe by the end of time. But the very act of guiding the universe to eliminate event horizons – an infinite number of nudges – causes the entropy and hence the complexity of the universe to increase without limit. Therefore, if life is to continue guiding the universe – which it must, if the laws of physics are to remain consistent – then the knowledge of the universe possessed by life must also increase without limit, becoming both perfect and infinite at the final singularity. Life must become OMNISCIENT at the final singularity. The collapse of the universe will have provided available energy, which goes to infinity as the final singularity is approached, and this available energy will have become entirely under life’s control. The rate of use of this available energy – power – will diverge to infinity as the final singularity is approached. In other words, life at the final singularity will have become OMNIPOTENT. The final singularity is not in time but outside of time. On the boundary of space and time, as described in detail by Hawking and Ellis [6]. So we can say that the final singularity – the Omega Point – is TRANSCENDANT to space, time and matter.

    All of the signs of classic crackpottery are present; the vague and misplaced appeal to technical terminology, the spelling mistakes and capital letters, the random use of “must” and “therefore” when no actual argument has been given. Two paragraphs later, we get:

    Science is not restricted merely to describing only what happens inside the material universe, any more than science is restricted to describing events below the orbit of the Moon, as claimed by the opponents of Galileo. Like Galileo, I am convinced that the only scientific approach is to assume that the laws of terrestrial physics hold everywhere and without exception – unless and until an experiment shows that these laws have a limited range of application.

    Compares self with Galileo! 40 points! There is really no indication that the person who wrote this was once writing perfectly sensible scientific papers.

    Perhaps you will not be surprised to find that Tipler has now jumped into global-warming denialism. In just a few short paragraphs, we are treated to the following gems of insight (helpfully paraphrased):

    People say that anthropogenic global warming is now firmly established, but that’s what they said about Ptolemaic astronomy! Therefore, I am like Copernicus.

    A scientific theory is only truly scientific if it makes predictions “that the average person can check for himself.” (Not making this up.)

    You know what causes global warming? Sunspots!

    Sure, you can see data published that makes it look like the globe actually is warming. But that data is probably just fabricated. It snowed here last week!

    If the government stopped funding science entirely, we wouldn’t have these problems.

    You know who I remind myself of? Galileo.

    Stillman Drake, the world’s leading Galileo scholar, demonstrates in his book “Galileo: A Very Short Introduction” (Oxford University Press, 2001) that it was not theologians, but rather his fellow physicists (then called “natural philosophers”), who manipulated the Inquisition into trying and convicting Galileo. The “out-of-the-mainsteam” Galileo had the gall to prove the consensus view, the Aristotlean theory, wrong by devising simple experiments that anyone could do. Galileo’s fellow scientists first tried to refute him by argument from authority. They failed. Then these “scientists” tried calling Galileo names, but this made no impression on the average person, who could see with his own eyes that Galileo was right. Finally, Galileo’s fellow “scientists” called in the Inquisition to silence him.

    One could go on, but what’s the point? Well, perhaps there are two points worth making.

    First, Frank Tipler is probably very “intelligent” by any of the standard measures of IQ and so forth. In science, we tend to valorize (to the point of fetishizing) a certain kind of ability to abstractly manipulate symbols and concepts — related to, although not exactly the same as, the cult of genius. (It’s not just being smart that is valorized, but a certain kind of smart.) The truth is, such an ability is great, but tends to be completely uncorrelated with other useful qualities like intellectual honesty and good judgment. People don’t become crackpots because they’re stupid; they become crackpots because they turn their smarts to crazy purposes.

    Second, the superficially disconnected forms of crackpottery that lead on the one hand to proving Christianity using general relativity, and on the other to denying global warming, clearly emerge from a common source. The technique is to first decide what one wants to be true, and then come up with arguments that support it. This is a technique that can be used by anybody, for any purpose, and it’s why appeals to authority aren’t to be trusted, no matter how “intelligent” that authority seems to be.

    Tipler isn’t completely crazy to want “average people” to be able to check claims for themselves. He’s mostly crazy, as by that standard we wouldn’t have much reason to believe in either general relativity or the Standard Model of particle physics, since the experimental tests relevant to those theories are pretty much out of reach for the average person. But the average person should be acquainted with the broad outlines of the scientific method and empirical reasoning, at least enough so that they try to separate crackpots from respectable scientists. Because nobody ever chooses to describe themselves as a crackpot. If you ask them, they’ll always explain that they are on the side of Galileo; and if you don’t agree, you’re no better than the Inquisition.

  • And Things for Them to Blog About

    As the year breaks, the internets are abuzz with deep thoughts!

    What will change everything? is this year’s Edge Annual Question. Many interesting answers, as you might expect. Choose from Massive Technological Failure (David Bodanis), Breaking the Species Barrier (Richard Dawkins), Coordinated and Expanded Computational Power (Lisa Randall), Faster Evolution (Jonathan Haidt), Happiness (Betsy Devine), Synthetic Biology (Dimitar Sasselov), and more. The book of last year’s question is out soon.

    The blog posts to be reprinted in the Open Lab 2008 anthology have been announced — only 50 selections from over 500 nominations, I’m glad I wasn’t responsible for making the tough choices. Also glad that they chose one of my posts, The First Quantum Cosmologist. You can also read about The Igneous Petrology of Ice Cream (Green Gabbro), Expect the Unexpected (A canna’ change the laws of physics), How do cave bats know when it is dark outside? (Pondering Pikaia), and perhaps the most courageous blog post of all time: Liveblogging the Vasectomy (Terra Sigillata). Some sort of new journalism” going on there.

    Finally, if all those ideas are weighing you down, play with the David Lee Roth ‘Runnin’ With the Devil’ Soundboard (via Cynical-C). Deconstructed from this classic track.

    The complete version is here, but it only detracts.

  • Blogs That Should Exist

    I’m hoping that, for many of our readers, New Year’s Resolutions include getting off their duffs and starting a blog of their own. It’s certainly not hard; at the minimal level of effort, hop over to Blogger and set up your own free blog in a couple of easy steps. Only after you’ve established yourself can you hope to sell out to the Man and thereby cause the Death of the Blogosphere, like us.

    But there are obstacles, for example: what to call the blog? We’re here to help. I was leafing through some old emails, and stumbled across the conversations we were having in the days before Cosmic Variance even existed. The heady days of youth, when we were trying to come up with good names for our new venture. Of course there are many types of blogs, from individual rants about the state of one’s personal life and recent dining experiences to focused discussions of the prospects for health care reform at the national level. We (including Clifford) wanted something that reflected our identity as scientists, but would attract and intrigue non-scientists as well, as we have always hoped to cast our discoursive net more widely than our particular disciplines. So we were looking for titles that played off scientific concepts, but didn’t come off as complete gobbeldy-gook to non-experts. Shores of the Dirac Sea is an excellent recent example of the genre — very much a physics in-joke, but one that isn’t completely off-putting to outsiders. If you call your blog “Laplace-Beltrami Operator” or “Gravitino Propagator,” you might amuse yourself, but your audience will be limited. (Apologies if there are any blogs out there with those names.)

    Of course we came up with more than one, before settling on our perfect choice. But what was imperfect for us might fit you just fine. So, offered up free of charge, here are some of the names we were bandying around, plus some extras I came up with since.

    • Tycho’s Nose
    • Higher Dimensional Operators
    • Extremize The Action
    • Critical Phenomena
    • The Residue Theorem
    • But No Simpler
    • De Revolutionibus
    • Smooth Tension
    • Ultra Deep Field
    • Outside the Light Cone
    • Primeval Atom
    • Left As An Exercise
    • The Error Bar

    Personally I’m partial to Tycho’s Nose, but The Error Bar is an awesome name. That blog practically writes itself. So what are you waiting for?

    Those who are too lazy and/or timid to start their own blogs are encouraged to suggest additional names in comments.

  • Happy New Year!

    Don’t let a black hole eat your house!

    Black hole eating house

  • Richard Feynman on Boltzmann Brains

    The Boltzmann Brain paradox is an argument against the idea that the universe around us, with its incredibly low-entropy early conditions and consequential arrow of time, is simply a statistical fluctuation within some eternal system that spends most of its time in thermal equilibrium. You can get a universe like ours that way, but you’re overwhelmingly more likely to get just a single galaxy, or a single planet, or even just a single brain — so the statistical-fluctuation idea seems to be ruled out by experiment. (With potentially profound consequences.)

    The first invocation of an argument along these lines, as far as I know, came from Sir Arthur Eddington in 1931. But it’s a fairly straightforward argument, once you grant the assumptions (although there remain critics). So I’m sure that any number of people have thought along similar lines, without making a big deal about it.

    One of those people, I just noticed, was Richard Feynman. At the end of his chapter on entropy in the Feynman Lectures on Physics, he ponders how to get an arrow of time in a universe governed by time-symmetric underlying laws.

    So far as we know, all the fundamental laws of physics, such as Newton’s equations, are reversible. Then were does irreversibility come from? It comes from order going to disorder, but we do not understand this until we know the origin of the order. Why is it that the situations we find ourselves in every day are always out of equilibrium?

    Feynman, following the same logic as Boltzmann, contemplates the possibility that we’re all just a statistical fluctuation.

    One possible explanation is the following. Look again at our box of mixed white and black molecules. Now it is possible, if we wait long enough, by sheer, grossly improbable, but possible, accident, that the distribution of molecules gets to be mostly white on one side and mostly black on the other. After that, as time goes on and accidents continue, they get more mixed up again.

    Thus one possible explanation of the high degree of order in the present-day world is that it is just a question of luck. Perhaps our universe happened to have had a fluctuation of some kind in the past, in which things got somewhat separated, and now they are running back together again. This kind of theory is not unsymmetrical, because we can ask what the separated gas looks like either a little in the future or a little in the past. In either case, we see a grey smear at the interface, because the molecules are mixing again. No matter which way we run time, the gas mixes. So this theory would say the irreversibility is just one of the accidents of life.

    But, of course, it doesn’t really suffice as an explanation for the real universe in which we live, for the same reasons that Eddington gave — the Boltzmann Brain argument.

    We would like to argue that this is not the case. Suppose we do not look at the whole box at once, but only at a piece of the box. Then, at a certain moment, suppose we discover a certain amount of order. In this little piece, white and black are separate. What should we deduce about the condition in places where we have not yet looked? If we really believe that the order arose from complete disorder by a fluctuation, we must surely take the most likely fluctuation which could produce it, and the most likely condition is not that the rest of it has also become disentangled! Therefore, from the hypothesis that the world is a fluctuation, all of the predictions are that if we look at a part of the world we have never seen before, we will find it mixed up, and not like the piece we just looked at. If our order were due to a fluctuation, we would not expect order anywhere but where we have just noticed it.

    After pointing out that we do, in fact, see order (low entropy) in new places all the time, he goes on to emphasize the cosmological origin of the Second Law and the arrow of time:

    We therefore conclude that the universe is not a fluctuation, and that the order is a memory of conditions when things started. This is not to say that we understand the logic of it. For some reason, the universe at one time had a very low entropy for its energy content, and since then the entropy has increased. So that is the way toward the future. That is the origin of all irreversibility, that is what makes the processes of growth and decay, that makes us remember the past and not the future, remember the things which are closer to that moment in history of the universe when the order was higher than now, and why we are not able to remember things where the disorder is higher than now, which we call the future.

    And he closes by noting that our understanding of the early universe will have to improve before we can answer these questions.

    This one-wayness is interrelated with the fact that the ratchet [a model irreversible system discussed earlier in the chapter] is part of the universe. It is part of the universe not only in the sense that it obeys the physical laws of the universe, but its one-way behavior is tied to the one-way behavior of the entire universe. It cannot be completely understood until the mystery of the beginnings of the history of the universe are reduced still further from speculation to scientific understanding.

    We’re still working on that.

  • Have a Thermodynamically Consistent Christmas

    The important event this Dec. 25 isn’t celebrating the birthday of Isaac Newton or other historical figures, it’s the release of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, a David Fincher film starring Brad Pitt and based on the story by F. Scott Fitzgerald. As you all know, it’s a story based on the device of incompatible arrows of time: Benjamin is born old and ages backwards into youth (physically, not mentally), while the rest of the world behaves normally. Some have pretended that scientific interest in the movie centers on issues of aging and longevity, but of course it’s thermodynamics and entropy that take center stage. While entropy increases and the Second Law is respected in the rest of the world, Benjamin Button’s body seems to be magically decreasing in entropy. (Which does not, strictly speaking, violate the Second Law, since his body isn’t a closed system, but it sure is weird.)

    Benjamin Button

    It’s a great opportunity to address an old chestnut: why do arrows of time have to be compatible? Why can’t we imagine ever discovering another galaxy in which entropy increased toward (what we call) the past instead of the future, as in Greg Egan’s story, “The Hundred Light-Year Diary”? Or why can’t a body age backwards in time?

    First we need to decide what the hell we mean. Let’s put aside for the moment sticky questions about collapsing wave functions, and presume that the fundamental laws of physics are perfectly reversible. In that case, given the precise state of the entire universe (or any closed system) at any one moment in time, we can use those laws to determine what the state will be at any future time, or what it was at any past time. That’s just how awesome the laws of physics are. (Of course we don’t know the laws, nor the state of the entire universe, nor could we actually carry out the relevant calculation even if we did, but we’re doing thought experiments here.) We usually take that time to be the “initial” time, but in principle we could choose any time — and in the present context, when we’re worried about arrows of time pointing in different directions, there is no time that is initial for everything. So what we mean is: Why is it difficult/impossible to choose a state of the universe with the property that, as we evolve it forward in time, some parts of it have increasing entropy and some parts have decreasing entropy?

    Notice that we can choose conditions that reverse the arrow of time for some individual isolated system. Entropy counts the “typicalness” of the system’s microscopic state, from the point of view of macroscopic observers. And it tends to go up, because there are many more ways to be high-entropy than low entropy. Consider a box of gas, in which the gas molecules are (by some means) all bunched together in the middle of the box, in a low-entropy configuration. If we just let it evolve, the molecules will move around, colliding with each other and with the walls of the box, and ending up (with overwhelmingly probability) in a much higher-entropy configuration.

    box-gas-1.jpg

    It’s easy to convince ourselves that there exists some configurations from which the entropy would spontaneously go down. For example, take the state of the above box of gas at any moment after it has become high-entropy, and consider the state in which all of the molecules have exactly the same positions but precisely reversed velocities. From there, the motion of the molecules will precisely re-trace the path that they took from the previous low-entropy state. To an external observer, it will look as if the entropy is spontaneously decreasing. (Of course we know that it took a lot of work to so precisely reverse all of those velocities, and the process of doing so increased the entropy of the wider world, so the Second Law is safe.)

    box-gas-2.jpg

    But a merely reversed arrow of time is not the point; we want incompatible arrows of time. That means entropy increasing in some part of the universe while it is decreasing in others.

    At first it would seem simple enough. Take two boxes, and prepare one of them in the low entropy state with gas in the middle, and the other in the delicately constructed state with reversed velocities. (That is, the two boxes on the left side of the two figures above.) The entropy will go up in one box, and down in the other, right? That’s true, but it’s kind of trivial. We need to have systems that interact — one system can somehow communicate with the other.

    And that ruins everything, of course. Imagine we started with these two boxes, one of which had an entropy that was ready to go up and the other ready to go down. But now we introduced a tiny coupling — say, a few photons moving between the boxes, bouncing off a molecule in one before returning to the other. Certainly the interaction of Benjamin Button’s body with the rest of the world is much stronger than that. (Likewise Egan’s time-reversed galaxy, or Martin Amis’s narrator in Time’s Arrow.)

    That extra little interaction will slightly alter the velocities of the molecules with which it interacts. (Momentum is conserved, so it has no choice.) That’s no problem for the box that starts with low entropy, as there is no delicate tuning required to make the entropy go up. But it completely ruins our attempt to set up conditions in the other box so that entropy goes down. Just a tiny change in velocity will quickly propagate through the gas, as one affected molecule hits another molecule, and then they hit two more, and so on. It was necessary for all of the velocities to be very precisely aligned to make the gas miraculously conspire to decrease its entropy, and any interaction we might want to introduce will destroy the required conspiracy. The entropy in the first box will very sensibly go up, while the entropy in the other will just stay high. You can’t have incompatible arrows of time among interacting subsystems of the universe.

  • Venus Hottentot and the Irony of Science

    One of the other good choices made by Obama’s inaugural planners was inviting Elizabeth Alexander to compose and deliver a poem. It’s not a well-established tradition. Only two other Presidents have featured poets at their inaugurations: John F. Kennedy and Bill Clinton. And, of course, the mere mention of “poetry” gives folks an opportunity to burnish their anti-intellectual credentials by pulling excerpts out of context and proudly proclaiming that they don’t get it.

    Ta-Nehisi Coates reprints Alexander’s best-known poem: The Venus Hottentot (1825). The title refers to Saartjie Baartman, an African woman who was brought to Europe in 1810, where she was exhibited in circuses and at private salons for the wealthy.

    Saartjie Baartman

    Baartman’s exotic physique and Khoikhoi ethnicity pushed all sorts of buttons in late Georgian England, where social reform movements jostled with the excitement of empire and a fascination with the Dark Continent. She died in Paris in 1815, where she was examined and dissected by naturalist Georges Cuvier, who later wrote articles arguing that the form of her labia was evidence of the primitive sexual appetite of African women. Baartman’s skeleton, brains and genitals were put on display at the Musée de l’Homme in Paris until 1974, when they were removed and put in storage; in 2002 her remains were repatriated to South Africa, where she was buried in the Gamtoos Valley.

    Alexander’s poem is extremely moving, a mediation on a meditation on power and hope and rage, building to the devastating final lines:

    If he were to let me rise up

    from this table, I’d spirit
    his knives and cut out his black heart,
    seal it with science fluid inside
    a bell jar, place it on a low
    shelf in a white man’s museum
    so the whole world could see
    it was shriveled and hard,
    geometric, deformed, unnatural.

    My first reaction, however, was more exasperation than admiration. The poem opens in the voice of Georges Cuvier:

    Science, science, science!
    Everything is beautiful

    blown up beneath my glass.
    Colors dazzle insect wings.

    You can guess where that’s going to go. Of all the things the world needs right now, “more mockery of science by humanities-oriented intellectuals” is not one of them. Yes, yes, we know: science is cold, and clinical, and dehumanizing. It also gave us penicillin, not to mention Mentos & Diet Coke, so cut some slack, okay? At the end of the day, anti-intellectualism is still anti-intellectualism.

    But upon reflection, I decided that my first reaction was unfair. As Hilzoy very astutely points out, the poem’s opening in Cuvier’s voice is honestly beautiful and affecting, where it could have been nothing more than sarcastic. The beauty of science can coexist with a shriveled heart.

    More importantly, as scientists we need to be able to take a little honest critique now and then and learn from it. Although anti-science attitudes within the humanities can often be little more than a cheap pose, that doesn’t mean that science shouldn’t ever be examined critically. Georges Cuvier’s crazy theories (he was also wrong about elephants, evolution, and continental drift, but did have some good ideas about dinosaurs) are just as much a part of the history of science as Newton or Darwin. And the impulses behind them are as real today as they ever were.

    It’s a cliche, but science is a human endeavor, and individual scientists are human beings. Scientific theories stand independently from their originators, but the process of science and the motivations of its practitioners are neither more or less lofty, on average, than most other human activities. The great thing about science is that, in the long run, empirical realities always win; if your theories aren’t right, they can’t survive. But the long run can be pretty long, and in the short run there is a temptation to dress up one’s prejudices in the apparent objectivity of scientific practice. In ideal circumstances, the harsh testing ground of experiment should keep us from drawing conclusions that aren’t supported by the data; but that’s a goal to which we aspire, not a virtue we are granted automatically by our lab coats and fancy math.

    Using the size of an African woman’s labia to draw conclusions about their primitive sexual appetites is no more sensibly “scientific” than believing that the proportion of women working as professional scientists (at this precise moment in history, in this precise part of the world) is a direct consequence of an underlying distribution of innate talents, unmediated by social factors. But there is no shortage of people who sincerely think that way. And the long run is sometimes longer than it needs to be.

    Text of the poem below the fold.

    (more…)

  • Merry Blogmas

    ‘Tis the season to be giving link love to new blogs. Beats coming up with content on your own.

    My favorite recent new blog find: On Becoming a Domestic and Laboratory Goddess, by Dr. Isis. She manages to say important and interesting things without being so all-fired serious all the time, a skill I wish I had mastered myself. Also, shoes. As a gesture of cross-gender solidarity, here’s a pair of cool shoes for you guys out there to contemplate with desire.

    41lotb0hfal_ss400_.jpg
    Fig. 1: Jo Ghost Men’s Lima Shoes. $877 at Amazon. No, I don’t own anything like this; I’d be too afraid to wear them.

    Eric Drexler, author of the book Engines of Creation that helped spark interest in nanotechnology, has started a blog: Metamodern. Expect knowledgeable commentary about all things nano-, but also on broader issues at the intersection of technology and society.

    Ted Bunn has a blog! Who knew? It’s called Ted Bunn’s Blog. Ted is a cosmologist at Richmond. He wrote an interesting post on entropy and evolution, in response to this paper by Daniel Styer, which I first noticed at Pharyngula. I haven’t gone through the issues myself, but it seems like an interesting attempt to attach some quantitative ideas to the blindingly obvious claim that evolution is not incompatible with the Second Law.

    I know you’re already all reading Resonaances, but just in case, you really should check out Jester’s recent post on anomalies in astroparticle physics. If you’d like to delve deeper into the experimental puzzles Daniel mentioned a while back that may or may not be hints of dark matter, this is the place to go.

    Also not really a new blog, but now that you’ve read this far, you’re helpless: the National Academies are doing a survey concerning what kinds of educational materials would be most useful to put on the Web. Their blurb:

    What topics in science, engineering, and medicine matter most to you? The National Academies are interested in developing useful and engaging print and web-based educational materials on the topics that you’d like to learn more about. They invite you to participate in a brief survey. You can find that survey here.

    In the 2-minute survey you’ll be presented with a list of topics and asked to select the five that matter most to you. At the end, you can see how your answers compare with the results so far. And you can enter a drawing to receive a National Academies tote bag!

    Let the National Academies know what topics you think they should focus on so they can be sure to provide you with materials that are informative and useful. Your participation is greatly appreciated.

    Now, I love the NAS and all that, but when they list their topics you might possibly care about, things like “Physics,” “Astrophysics,” “Cosmology,” and “Mathematics” are nowhere to be found. Happily, there is a write-in box, so this is the chance to give them a piece of your mind.

    Also: tote bags!

  • Splitting the Bill

    Continuing the end-of-year purge of things I don’t have time to properly blog about: be sure not to go to dinner with this guy. He might lash out at you as everyone is heading home.

    “We’re going to split the bill,” said the organizer at my friend’s ninth grade birthday party. I didn’t think much of it until I ended up paying $40 for a $10 entrée. I felt cheated because I didn’t order a drink like most others. I was afraid to ruin the party mood, so I concealed my own anger, and that ended up ruining the night for me.

    Now, I almost have sympathy; if you’ve ever gone to dinner with a collection of scientists, you’ll find that their vaunted mathematical skills tend to whither under the pressure of calculating tax and tip, and the person who volunteers to collect the money often ends up chipping in extra to cover the shortfall. But Mr. Talwalkar goes far, far overboard, devising an elaborate scheme by which everyone in the party receives emails ahead of time informing them that they will be strictly limited in the menu options once they reach the restaurant. It’s a common syndrome among people with something of a quantitative bent; fixating on the relationship between the money they are paying and the tangible goods in front of them in the form of food and drink, they completely discount the goods associated with having a good time in a social atmosphere and not worrying too much about who had how many bites out of which appetizer.

    Admittedly, this guy probably gets more enjoyment out of solving a game theory problem and enforcing conformity with his rules than he would by relaxing and telling stories at dinner. That’s why you have to choose your dining companions carefully.

  • New Horizons

    And the winner of our Elevator Pitch Contest is: Jason Dick, for New Horizons!

    Takes place about a century from now. Humanity has discovered planets around other stars harbor life. We send out a generation ship, where multiple generations of intrepid explorers will be born and die before it reaches its destination. This show follows their journey, where they are faced with mechanical failure, collisions with small dust grains that cause lots of damage, and people who crack under the stress of their situation. Mostly it’d be about a human drama of extremely driven people who are in a difficult situation, and whose children are forced to carry the torch of their parents.

    A well-deserved victory, as Jason has long been one of our most intelligent and helpful commenters. And it’s a good show idea, certainly comparable with many things actually appearing on TV. Jason, shoot us your address and a T-shirt will be forthcoming — soonish.

    Interestingly, concepts that took the framework of a conventional sitcom or drama (Friends/ER) and made the characters scientists didn’t fare as well with our voters. This might be a reflection of our voting pool, or a real difficulty involved in translating the life of a scientist into compelling narrative.