Here I go again, stepping well outside my sphere of competence. On two separate occasions in March I’ll be giving talks on literature and science. The first time will be at a conference at the KITP in Santa Barbara on Science, Theatre, Audience, Reader: Theoretical Physics in Drama and Narrative. I’ll be giving a short talk with the grandiose title of “From Experience to Metaphor by Way of Imagination: How Science Can Lead to Literature.” (I’ll also be participating in a panel discussion on writing cosmology and another one on Einstein, but those are actually in my domain of expertise.) Then on March 20th I’ll be giving a Literary Lecture in association with the performance of Charlotte Jones’ Humble Boy at Chicago’s Remy Bumppo Theatre.

I do have a tiny idea of what I want to say. I’m not so interested in how we can actually talk about science in a literary setting, at least not in a way that tries to teach scientific concepts via works of fiction (although that is interesting in its own right). Instead, I’m thinking about how scientific ideas can be useful to literature as raw material for metaphors. The idea is that science, in looking at the world and trying to understand it, is driven to invent dramatic ideas (the uncertainty principle, curved spacetime, chaos theory) that imagination alone would never have hit upon. (To paraphrase Sidney Coleman, a thousand philosophers working for a thousand years would never have come up with quantum mechanics.) It’s the interplay in science between theory and experiment that forces us to conclusions we would otherwise have never reached. In turn, these concepts can be used in literature as powerful metaphorical tools.

A simple example is The Congugation of the Paramecium. The poem looks at first to be very non-metaphorical, just a straightforward description of what happens. But there’s that little bit in the middle about “when / the paramecium / desires renewal / strength another joy” — that’s not literal, you know. The paramecium doesn’t actually desire another joy. But Rukeyser is elegantly using the exchange of bits of nucleus as a metaphor for human interaction. That kind of move is something that science can quite consistently offer to literature.

What I need is a better set of examples. So, anyone have any? Again, I’m not so much interested in direct discussion of science in a literary context, as examples of when scientific concepts are put to use metaphorically. Any suggestions are welcome. (Let’s make this blog thing actually be useful.)

Andrew Hill demonstrates a typical pose of the University of Chicago graduate student in its native environment.

In the comments to the last post, Jeff Harvey points at an interesting article in today’s New York Times. It’s an essay by Cornelia Dean about her experiences as Science Editor for the Times. My favorite part:

I encountered the attitude again shortly after I became science editor, taking up a position I was to hold from 1997 to 2003. I went to the annual meeting of the American Association for the Advancement of Science, a convention that attracts thousands of researchers and teachers. My name tag listed my new position, and the scientists at the meeting all seemed to have the same reaction when they read it: “You’re the new science editor of The New York Times!?”

At first I was deluded enough to think they meant I was much too delightful a person for such a heavy-duty job. In fact, they were shocked it had been given to a woman.

This point was driven home a few weeks later when, at a dinner for scientific eminences, a colleague introduced me to one of the nation’s leading neuroscientists. “Oh yes,” the scientist murmured, as he scanned the room clearly ignoring me. “Who is the new science editor of The New York Times, that twerpy little girl in short skirts?”

Dumbfounded, I replied, “That would be me.”

A few weeks after that I was in another group of scientific eminences, this one at a luncheon at the Waldorf. The spokeswoman for the group that organized the event introduced me to one of the group’s most eminent guests, a leading figure in American science policy.

“Oh,” he said kindly but abstractedly, “you work for The New York Times. How nice.” The spokeswoman explained, again, that I was the newspaper’s science editor. “An editor,” he said. “How nice.” The woman explained again, but again he could not take it in. “Oh, science,” he said, “How nice.” At this point the spokeswoman lost patience. She grabbed the honored guest by both shoulders, put her face a few inches away from his and shouted at him – “She’s it!”

Not long after, I answered the office telephone, and the caller, a (male) scientist, asked to speak to several of my colleagues, all male and all out. “May I help you?” I inquired. “No, no, no,” he replied. “I don’t want to talk to you, I want to talk to someone important!”

Even at the time, I could laugh at these experiences. After all, I was a grown-up person who could take care of herself. (I informed the caller that all the men he wanted to talk to worked for me, and then I hung up. As for Dr. Twerpy, he should know that he was not the first man to refer to me professionally as “that little girl.” I reported on the doings of the other one until he was indicted.)

“Until he was indicted.” Doesn’t get much sweeter than that.

In the wake of Larry Summers’ provocations, it’s hard not to notice something: people really like talking about innate cognitive differences between men and women. Regardless of what they think about them, it’s an irresistible topic on which to spin grand conclusions from sparse scraps of evidence. The more obvious and important fact, that systematic biases are turning women away from becoming scientists, is more mundane and depressing, not nearly as much fun to debate about.

Here’s a little bit of actual data. (Mentioned by Meghan O’Rourke in Slate; this table from an article by Sue Serjeantson, quoting a paper by Lynne Billard, in turn quoting results from a 1983 study by Paludi & Bauer.) This is the mathematical equivalent of the well-known fact that women musicians are more likely to be hired by orchestras if auditions are blind (pdf). Paludi and Bauer gave the same mathematics paper to various experts and asked for their opinion on its quality. The only difference was the name on the paper: some were told that the author’s first name was “John,” some were told “Joan,” and some were merely given the initial “J.” Here are the ratings the paper was given.

Mean Rating Score (%) of Article

	Article Authored By
Article reviewed by	John T. McKay	J.T. McKay	Joan T. McKay
Men	77.5	57.5	50.0
Women	67.5	60.0	50.0

A substantial effect: the paper was rated significantly higher if the reader thought that the author was male. Even women rated the male-authored paper higher! And I’m sure that every one of the subjects in the study would swear that they personally can be completely objective in evaluating mathematical performance, regardless of the sex of the individual.

Study innate differences all you like. But don’t use them as an excuse to hide from reality.

Over at Quantum Diaries, John Ellis reports on a colloquium given by David Gross, where he lists his version of the twenty-five most important questions in physics. Here is Ellis’ transcription of Gross’ list:

1 – The origin of the Universe:

Was there a Big Bang, was it preceded by a Big Crunch, ….

2 – The nature of Dark Matter:

Is it composed of some unknown elementary particle, if so, what ….

3 – The nature of Dark Energy:

What is its microphysical origin, is it constant or varying ….

4 – The formation of structures in the Universe:

Testing the standard Cold Dark Matter paradigm, formation of stars ..

5 – The validity of General Relativity:

Does it work at all scales, in strong fields, ….

6 – The validity of Quantum Mechanics:

Is it modified at short distances, for large systems, in the Universe …

7 – The problems not solved by the Standard Model of particles:

Particle types, masses and mixing, unification of forces ….

8 – The existence of supersymmetry:

Does this framework for new physics appear at accessible energies ….

9 – The solution of QCD:

Can it be solved analytically, e.g., via a string model ….

10 – The nature of string theory:

What is it ….

11 – The nature of space and time:

Are they fundamental or emergent phenomena ….

12 – Whether the laws of physics are unique:

Perhaps they are statistical accidents ….

13 – Can kinematics, dynamics and initial conditions be separated:

Perhaps they cannot be disentangled ….

14 – Are there new states of condensed matter:

Not just the usual Fermi liquids ….

15 – The understanding of complexity in computing:

Is there something beyond the artefacts of approximations ….

16 – The construction of a quantum computer:

One with 10,000 qbits would be useful ….

17 – The existence of a room-temperature superconductor:

It would make a technological revolution ….

18 – The existence of a theory of biology:

Does it have an underlying conceptual structure, like physics ….

19 – Deducing physical form from genomics:

Can one deduce the shape of an organism from its DNA sequence ….

20 – The physical basis of consciousness:

New physics, emergent phenomenon, or ….

21 – Could a computer become a creative physicist:

Would we train it starting from Newton and Einstein ….

22 – How to avoid the balkanization of physics:

People from different fields should understand each other ….

23 – The scope of reductionism:

Is it universal, or do new laws emerge in complex systems ….

24 – The role of theory:

Does it lead or follow experiment ….

25 – How to avoid depending on unrealizable big physics projects:

They cannot continue for ever growing in size, cost and time-scale ….

I think it’s a pretty good list, but then again my research proclivities aren’t that far away from David’s, as these things go. The list falters near the end, when he takes up meta-questions like “The role of theory.” These things are fun to talk about over coffee, but they don’t have right answers in the way that “Does supersymmetry exist?” does. Progress on them happens via practice, not via contemplation. Scientists try to understand how the universe works in a quantitative, empirical way; the best strategies for getting there will change with time in response to circumstances, and deciding ahead of time what (e.g.) the role of theory should be is a hopeless endeavor.

Voting has already started in the Iraqi elections, with expatriates voting over the weekend ahead of the main event tomorrow. Regardless of anyone’s opinion about whether we should have gone to war, or what the ultimate outcome will be, we can all join in the hope that things go as well as possible, and that history will remember this weekend as a step toward democracy.

Having an election doesn’t make you a democracy, of course; Saddam Hussein had plenty of elections. Even having a contested election isn’t nearly enough. You can’t claim to have a working democracy until you have an election in which the ruling party actually loses and hands over power; Iraq has a very long way to go. It’s not easy even under fairly peaceful circumstances, as people in Ukraine will attest; but it can happen. Sometimes it never does, as people in Russia can attest; if you have elections in which the ruling party can’t lose, that’s nothing more than a conventional strongman regime.

Nobody knows what Iraq will look like ten years from now, and anyone who claims to is just whistling in the dark. It might be a struggling but maturing democracy, or a repressive dictatorship, or have broken into pieces, or simply be a chaotic mess roiled by perpetual civil war. It may even be an Islamic fundamentalist theocracy, pursuing a vigorous program to develop weapons of mass destruction. That would be kind of ironic. But this is not a case where anyone should hope for the worst just so they can say “I told you so.”

In the short term, the fix is in — we pretty much know who will come out as the winners. Enough so that George Bush can say with confidence that we will withdraw American troops if the new government requests it, secure in the knowledge that it would never happen. I don’t mean “the fix is in” in the sense of actual fraud, just the conventional power that incumbents wield; I suspect candidates from Iraq’s current ruling parties will enjoy at least as much of an advantage as incumbents in the U.S. House of Representatives, who typically win about 95% of the time.

The long term is less rosy. There is plenty of reason to be skeptical that the elections will lead smoothly into a functioning democratic system, as argued in this study from the Project on Defense Alternatives (via Eric Alterman). They’re certainly taking place under trying conditions. Daniel Davies at Crooked Timber reminds us about the Lancet study that found that the war caused somewhere between 8,000 and 194,000 Iraqi deaths that wouldn’t have occurred if we hadn’t invaded (see also his earlier posts here and here). It’s a sobering finding, which didn’t receive nearly as much media attention as you might expect, because of a sort of anti-October-surprise effect: because it was rushed into print just before the Presidential elections, media outlets were wary of hyping it for fear of appearing unbalanced. People can argue about the numbers all they like, but the undeniable fact is that Iraqi citizens have been living amidst terrible acts of violence (intentional and unintentional) for a long time now. (Update: via Majikthise, read this Sy Hersh speech at tingilinde.) It’s not the best environment in which to nurture a democracy.

But we can hope.

Will Baude reminds us that W.B. Yeats died 65 years ago today.

When You Are Old

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,

And nodding by the fire, take down this book,

And slowly read, and dream of the soft look

Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,

And loved your beauty with love false or true,

But one man loved the pilgrim Soul in you,

And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,

Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled

And paced upon the mountains overhead

And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

Such a lovely poem, and yet so sneaky. Basically Yeats is saying to someone who dumped him for someone else, “Someday you’ll understand that I was the only one who truly understood you.” Which is a nice way to compliment yourself while seeming to compliment the other. W.B., maybe she just wasn’t that into you.

Is over at Alas, a Blog. And it involves Jack the Ripper, so you know it has to be good.

Juan Cole reconstructs the speech that he wishes George W. Bush had given to Congress in 2002, to present the case for the war in Iraq.

Then, this Iraq War that I want you to authorize as part of the War on Terror is going to be costly in American lives. By the time of my second inaugural, over 1,300 brave women and men of the US armed forces will be dead as a result of this Iraq war, and 10,371 will have been maimed and wounded, many of them for life. America’s streets and homeless shelters will likely be flooded, down the line, with some of these wounded vets. They will have problems finding work, with one or two limbs gone and often significant psychological damage. They will have even more trouble keeping any jobs they find. They will be mentally traumatized the rest of their lives by the horror they are going to see, and sometimes commit, in Iraq. But, well we’ve got a saying in Texas. I think you’ve got in over in Arkansas, too. You can’t make an omelette without . . . you gotta break some eggs to wrassle up some breakfast.

I know Dick Cheney and Condi Rice have gone around scaring your kids with wild talk of Iraqi nukes. I have to confess to you that my CIA director, George Tenet, tells me that the evidence for that kind of thing just doesn’t exist. In fact, I have to be frank and say that the Intelligence and Research Division of the State Department doesn’t think Saddam has much of anything left even from his chemical weapons program. Maybe he destroyed the stuff and doesn’t want to admit it because he’s afraid the Shiites and Kurds will rise up against him without it. Anyway, Iraq just doesn’t pose any immediate threat to the United States and probably doesn’t have anything useful left of their weapons programs of the 1980s.

There also isn’t any operational link between a secular Arab nationalist like Saddam and the religious loonies of al-Qaeda. They’re scared of one another and hate each other more than each hates us. In fact, I have to be perfectly honest and admit that if we overthrow Saddam’s secular Arab nationalist government, Iraq’s Sunni Arabs will be disillusioned and full of despair. They are likely to turn to al-Qaeda as an alternative. So, folks, what I’m about to do could deliver 5 million Iraqis into the hands of people who are insisting they join some al-Qaeda offshoot immediately. Or else.

Apparently, Cole wants to live in a world where people are forced to tell the truth. Wasn’t that a bad Jim Carrey movie?

Speaking of Johnny Carson, one of his great moments was when he made a fool of Uri Geller. Not by mocking him in any straightforward way, but simply by asking him very politely to do some of the tricks he was famous for doing, but in a controlled setting where Geller couldn’t mess with the objects. Of course he wasn’t able to demonstrate any of his celebrated psychic abilities, and this incident dealt a huge blow to Geller’s credibility. Majikthise points to a short video at OneGoodMove of Geller’s confrontation with Carson.

Geller’s best-known stunt, of course, was spoon-bending. It’s a simple enough trick for anyone to learn, and has been discredited so long ago that nobody can possibly take it seriously. Except, I guess, climate-change debunker and occasional novelist Michael Crichton. Good thing we have people like Crichton to make fun of those silly “rationalists.”