Before heading back to LA from Santa Barbara last week, Erin and I made a final stop at the local natural history museum. I’ve blogged before about how great this place is. Not the largest of museums, but somehow managing to cover all the traditional departments through locally themed exhibits – and all in the most beautiful location.
In the 18 months since our last visit, two new exhibitions have appeared, and the bird gallery has reopened following renovation. But to our surprise, all that is left of the museum’s flagship exhibit – a 72ft Blue Whale skeleton – is it’s head.
For the 20 year old skeleton, one of only five on display in the USA, is in need of a major overhaul. The skull will be completely replaced, and the remaining bones will be refurbished or replaced.
The $500,000 needed to complete the work is being raised by inviting donors to sponsor individual bones and sections of the skeleton through the ‘Buy-A-Bone’ scheme (links to the Museum’s website).
The right to name this particular Balaenoptera musculus has already gone – for a cool $100k. But the skull and vertebral column are still up for grabs at $75k and $137k respectively; most of the ribs are available at $25k each, the left flipper at $13k, or one of twelve carpal bones can be yours for the pocket money sum of $500.
I’ve always thought I’ll someday meet a celebrity if I visit Los Angeles often enough; I just didn’t expect it would be a plant.
Meet Amorphophallus titanum, or Titan Arum, or ‘Corpse Flower’, or simply ‘Big Stinky’ to it’s friends at the Huntington Botanical Gardens in Pasadena.
The deal with Stinky, one of the largest and smelliest flowers you’re ever likely meet, is that most of the time it keeps that outer petal-like spathe tightly closed around its central spadix. Only on rare occasions, often with years between events, does the flower open up for a very short time, simultaneously attracting pollinating insects inside with a disgusting (to us) odour – hence ‘Corpse Flower’.
We’ve been following the plant’s progress on this Huntington blog, in a bid to time our visit to coincide with its opened, smelly, best. As it turned out, having heard on Saturday it was blooming, we drove over today, Sunday, only to find it had closed up again; job done apparently: bad smells, insects, the lot.
Luckily, while I enjoy a bit of botany now and then, I’m not obsessive about it, so won’t be falling on my trowel any time soon. But for some, I get the feeling it’s like an astronomer missing an eclipse or a transit of Venus.
You can see the plant wasn’t totally closed up (see the Huntington website for the plant in bloom) and we did get a sniff of a collected sample of it’s insect-attractant discharge; not pleasant, but I wouldn’t like to comment on its corpseiness.
So, an interesting diversion all the same. And a good job by the Huntington marketing team; I’m sure they give Stinky a big hug when no-one’s looking.
Moving on from smelly plants now. This was the first time I’d visited the Huntington since the Dibner Hall of the History of Science was opened in late 2008. The permanent exhibition, Beautiful Science, is wonderful, and you’ll find that doubly so if you like rare old books covering subjects ranging from astronomy to natural history to medicine and light.
Newton’s own copy of Optiks is here – how’d they get that? And I liked the accurate reproductions of Galileo’s telescope that visitors can use to spy a simulated moon across the hall – moving their eye around to find the exit pupil like Galileo must have done; and Hooke’s microscope, with a genuine flea like the one Hooke so painstakingly drew in Micrographia. There is even an original 18th century volume from Diderot’s Encyclopedie that the public can (carefully) leaf through. Nice trusting touch.
All in all, the Huntington: comprising library, art collections, and botanical gardens, is well worth a visit.
Just a few photos of dragonflies taken in and around the San Gabriel foothills. There are three individuals here: the first golden-colored guy was taken in the hills; the other two were buzzing round a pond in Pasadena. I believe the red colored one is a Flame Skimmer or Libellula saturata, the blue one is a Blue Dasher Pachydiplax longipennis, and I’m still working on the first guy.
Update 15th March – I’ve posted the top 50 winning messages HERE.
Update 13th March – Competition results. For those of you checking back for the 12th March winning messages, they don’t seem to have appeared yet. Another eerie silence if you like. Watch this space.
You might remember one of the speakers at the Royal Society event was physicist Paul Davies, who also has a new book coming out, The Eerie Silence: Are we alone in the Universe?.
I’ll be writing a full review of Eerie Silence in due course, but meantime you might want to take part in what looks like a fun competition, launched today by publishers Penguin UK together with National Science and Engineering Week.
They’re asking the question:
Is there anybody out there? What would you say if you could send a message into space?
Would you say hello, ask the meaning of life, share an insight or just complain about the weather?
As the organisers say, this is a rare opportunity to beam up to 5000 messages into space to celebrate the 50th anniversary of SETI, the Search for Extra Terrestrial Intelligence, which is the subject of Davies’s book.
So get your thinking cap on, make your message funny, thoughtful or wise and do something extraordinary.
The best 50 messages, as chosen by a judging committee, will be posted at the Penguin websiteand also here on Zoonomianon 12 March, the first day of National Science and Engineering Week 2010 and in the national media. Winning entrants’ names and home location, only, may be credited at the foot of each message. In addition, the 50 winning entrants will each receive a copy of “The Eerie Silence: Are we Alone in the Universe?” by Paul Davies.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have a grave announcement to make. Incredible as it may seem, both the observations of science and the evidence of our eyes lead to the inescapable assumption that those strange beings who landed in the Jersey farmlands tonight are the vanguard of an invading army from the planet Mars.”
Those words were spoken by a fictitious news reporter in Orsen Welles’s 1938 radio play ‘The War of the Worlds’ – a broadcast that probably did more than any other event in the 20th century to embed the prospect of extra-terrestrial life in the popular imagination.
Listeners to Welles’s play are said to have run screaming into the streets, taking the Martian invasion for real. Yet that reaction, said Professor Albert Harrison from the University of California, Davis, has been overplayed and, in fact, many listeners followed much more rational courses of action. Harrison’s comments are consistent with the Royal Society’s intent that this meeting explore beyond the bounds of natural science – to consider the social, cultural, and political impacts of the search and possible discovery of extra-terrestrial life.
It’s tricky to focus down 16 speakers and 14 hours of discussions, but for me everything feeds into three questions:
Is there life beyond the earth?
Is there intelligent life beyond the earth?
How might human beings react to the discovery of extra-terrestrial life?
(o.k., there’s also a significant ‘sub-plot’ around the possibility that life evolved on earth in several independent forms – more of which later.)
Echoing an early speaker, I’ll say up front that there is presently no evidence for the existence of extra-terrestrial life, intelligent or otherwise. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t out there. Sorry if that ruined the sense of chair-gripping suspense I’ve been building.
Is there life beyond the earth?
Where life?
Strangely perhaps, the search for ET begins on Earth, in so far as understanding how terrestrial life came to exist and evolve tells us what to expect elsewhere.
But beyond the Earth, researchers are looking in two places :
(a) planets in our own solar system
(b) planets in orbit around other stars in our galaxy
Why life?
With evidence that physics and chemistry are uniform across the universe, the argument is that if we find life in one location, then why not in another. It’s quite convincing if said quickly.
But conscious human life appears only at the end of a road full of hurdles, and we really need to understand how challenging each stage of the process is before raising expectations of a repeat performance. When Pascale Ehrenfreund described the ubiquity of carbonaceous compounds in the universe, she did so against a history starting at the big bang, moving through the formation of chemical compounds, then on to DNA, and finally to life. The sequence goes something like:
1. The universe came into existence at the Big Bang (including time and space, energy and matter)
2. Matter condensed into galaxies of gas and stars, and elements and chemicals were produced
3. Chemicals became arranged so they were able to self-replicate and behave as ‘life’ (RNA>DNA>cell formation, or alternative chemical arrangements that fulfill the same function)
4. Simple life evolved into more complex forms through Darwinian natural selection
5. Complex life forms evolved intelligence
6. Intelligent life forms became self-aware (consciousness)
My critique of these is that (2) and (4) are uncontroversial: we directly observe elements and chemicals, including organic molecules in deep space; and stage (4) is simply the fact of Darwinian evolution. (5) – intelligence – could be considered an extension of evolution; but, for me, (6) – consciousness – is a separate deal. That’s not because I think consciousness requires supernatural intervention to make it happen, but more to highlight how little understood is the process by which matter gets to understand and act upon itself. If we’re so smart, where’s the AI – right?
Jumping back to (1) – the big bang – as the mechanism for the formation of our universe in isolation, that too is uncontroversial for many scientists. Yet, speculative concepts like the multiverse have bearing on discussions about the probability of life forming. This meeting avoided getting too far side-tracked into cosmological fundamentals and the more adventurous areas of scientific speculation. Indeed, I thought Paul Davies, author of the The Mind of God and The Goldilocks Enigma – works that major in this territory – showed great restraint.
On what life actually is, I found it hard to pin down a universally shared definition, but most include the ability to self-replicate and to behave autonomously. Other qualifying features might include complexity, the ability to grow and develop, and the presence of a nutrient-fed metabolism. I also liked Baruch Blumberg’s reference to a test that involves comparing the behaviour of live and dead chickens thrown into the air.
Astrobiology in a new Age of Wonder
For Blumberg, astrobiology and the search for ET represents a new Age of Wonder – driven by the Joseph Banks spirit found in Richard Holmes’s book of the same name, but enhanced through startling advances in technology. Astrobiologists are asking themselves if the commonality of biologies discovered across the globe in Banks’s time will now be reproduced at the universal scale.
The planets in our own solar system can be reached by physical probes, but so-called exoplanets orbiting distant stars (but still in our galaxy) must be detected and analysed remotely with instruments like the Kepler space telescope. This is an area where progress
has been extremely rapid and rewarding since the first Jupiter type gas giant planets were discovered 15 years ago. Researchers already analysing ‘super earths’ (x10 earth mass), said Michel Mayor, were on the brink of accessing planets equivalent in size and position to Earth. Still unresolvable as discs, exoplanets are detected from the way they change the apparent brightness and quality of light from the star-planet system. When a planet passes in front, it blocks out some light, and the reduction is measured by what is effectively a giant light-meter – like Kepler. Some new instruments in the pipeline, such as Plato scheduled for 2018, will open up more than half the sky for exoplanet analysis, further increasing the chances of discovering life.
But the little things can impress most, and one of the highlights for me was Malcolm Fridlund’s slide showing a very subtle dip in a star’s brightness curve, corresponding not to a reduction due to shadowing, but to the loss of reflected light from the planet itself as it passed behind the star. That somehow brought home the sensitivity of the technique.
Analysing the wavelength of light from these systems reveals chemicals in the exoplanet’s atmosphere that we can compare with chemicals that are associated with life in our own biosphere (or biofilm as Cockell would have it). For example, ozone, oxygen, methane, and water may indicate plant life. And as Pascale Ehrenfreund explained, the starting materials for carbon based life are common throughout the universe: including long carbon chains, fullerenes and PAHs (polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons).
While there’s been a push to see earth sized planets – because we know they work I guess – larger planets are not ruled out, although it was suggested plate tectonics might limit development on larger rocky worlds. We know life can be surprisingly tough though, like the Earth-bound extremophile group chemolithotrophs, described by Charles Cockell, that can survive high temperatures, pressures, and strong saline solutions – extracting energy directly from rocks by oxidising iron.
So it was a little disappointing after all that to learn from Simon Conway Morris that conditions on Jupiter’s moon Europa may be too saline for life. Maybe I’ve watched the movie 2010 too often, but I had Europa pegged as a top contender (according to Chris McKay, Saturn’s largest moon Enceladus is now a more likely prospect).
But Morris’s main aim was to demonstrate the ubiquity of evolutionary convergence, with reference to basic life forms that had shown a tendency to independently converge on improved or even optimal designs through natural selection. This begs the question why, if life once started has little problem developing and converging across a range of environments, is the universe not teaming with life and its tell-tale transmissions (an example of the Fermi Paradox discussed later). Simon Conway Morris’s explanation is that basic life is indeed a (one off?) fluke.
Chris McKay’s ‘Second Genesis’ went some way to soften the prospect of life as a total fluke, his thesis being that we might find an independently developed tree of life in our own solar system. Just finding life or its artifacts in the rocks of, say, Mars won’t do though, as we know there’s been a historic transfer of rocks (below sterilisation temperatures) between the Earth and Mars caused by ejection of material by asteroid strikes.
Indeed – we may ourselves be Martians ! (A number of Martian meteorites have been found on earth, identified by analysing the composition of trapped gas bubbles and comparing it to samples analysed on Mars. A meteorite was found on Mars by Viking, but not from Earth – although such material is almost certainly there.)
Rather, life derived from a true second genesis would have to demonstrate features in its underlying structure, or building blocks, that must have arisen independently from our own tree of life, and will certainly not be part of it.
Is there intelligent life beyond the earth?
The second day’s discussions, chaired by Jocelyn Bell-Burnell and Martin Rees, focused on the search for intelligent extra-terrestrial life, or SETI, and how human beings might react to its discovery.
Maybe it’s a little unfair to suggest anyone working in this field is an inherent optimist, but I suspect such a condition is helpful.
At the start of this post, I listed the various stages or hurdles that must be jumped on the way to life. But for Christian de Duve, opening the session, the appearance of life on Earth is simply the inevitable outcome of a chemical process; such that if the same chemistry occurs elsewhere – the same sort of life will appear.
De Duve’s thesis of life as a cosmic imperative does rely on the same physical as well as chemical conditions being reproduced, but for me he didn’t adequately address the qualitative difference between the reaction of a homogenous mix of chemicals, and more complex processes such as the formation of self-reproducing entities like cells (via RNA and DNA). Assumptions around the inevitability of the switch from chemistry to ‘life chemistry’ are troubling. But maybe I just need to read De Duve’s book.
The Shadow Biosphere
Following Chris McKay’s discussion around a ‘Second Genesis’ in our solar system, Paul Davies followed similar motives with his concept of a more Earthbound ‘Shadow Biosphere’. Davies’s research, described in his forthcoming book, The Eerie Silence, may be terrestrial, but can inform the off-world search. The Shadow Biosphere, if it exists says Davies, will comprise unconventional (and unrecognised) life forms that have appeared and developed independently.
The lifeforms may have died out and be detectable only via ancient biomarkers, or they could be “under our noses” in the form of the largely overlooked extremophiles – those bugs that thrive variously in hot, high-pressure, salty and radiated environments. Davies described ongoing research at the hot pools of Mono Lake, California, where the search is on for arsensic-based micro-organisms, where arsenic may have replaced the phosphorous found in the tree of life we already know. Shadow organisms can thus look quite ordinary (whatever that means for an extremophile) but betray themselves by subtle but fundamental differences in their basic composition – such as inclusion of arsenic, or structure – such as the ‘handedness’ of their DNA. As with Second Genesis, the work has obvious implications for our view on the specialness of life-forming processes.
And while fishing around in hot pools might lack the superficial glamour of exoplanet and space research, the results could be of equal or greater significance. Also, with potential Martian finds arguably compromised by the possibility of inter-planetary material exchanges, the discovery of alternative trees of life on Earth might provide a more robust argument for the prevalence of life in the greater universe.
Is there anybody…..out there!
The attraction of SETI, officially celebrating its 50th anniversary this year, speaks for itself. Discovering the extra-terrestrial lettuce would be nice, but we’d all rather have the salad recipe beamed in from Vega.
Director of the Carl Sagan Center for the Study of Life in the Universe, Frank Drake, has been on the case from the start, and with Director of the Center for SETI Research, Jill Tarter, has been listening for radio, and more recently laser, broadcasts since the 1960s.
To help understand what he was up against odds-wise in the search, Drake proposed his now famous equation to calculate the number of civilisations in our galaxy with which communication might be possible:
Scaled up calculations suggest there are likely to be ten to the power 20 Earth-like planets in the observable universe, suggesting that if the road to intelligent life is ubiquitous and mechanical (which is not a given), the outlook for detection looks positive.
However, the Fermi Paradox, based on an observation by Enrico Fermi that we don’t see any evidence of life, because it either isn’t there or habitually destroys itself, runs counter to this enthusiasm. And as Paul Davies commented, the odds represented in the Drake equation terms (for and against life) stack up exponentially. Bottom line, I think these sorts of consideration should cause us to revisit any intuitive sense we might have for the inevitability of life – especially those of us from the Sagan “billions” generation.
Apart from radio waves and laser beams, aliens might give themselves away in other ways associated with their use of advanced technologies. One such technology is the Dyson Sphere. Proposed by Freeman Dyson, the sphere would be built by advanced civilisations to completely encapsulate their star, and thereby capture or control its energy more efficiently. Such spheres would glow in the infra-red, and serious Earth-based studies have been made to look for them. I’ve previously referenced science fiction author Stephen Baxter’s use of the Dyson Sphere in his novel Time Ships (in this blog post).
Understandably perhaps, the SETI camp don’t appear to dwell on factors that might dampen enthusiasm for the cause. For example, it was pointed out that the intensity of our own incidental and accidental radio emissions into space has decreased over the years with improved efficiency and new modes of non-radiative information transfer – like fibre optics. So maybe the aliens don’t glow as brightly as we’d like. Also, any laser communications we might detect would necessarily have to be altruistically targeted by the senders with the specific purpose of communicating with alien life. Maybe they’re doing that. It’s not that I’m being negative on any of this, but rather that, all in all, I walked away from this session as unsure as I was when when it started as to how much of a long shot SETI really is.
How might human beings react to the discovery of extra-terrestrial life?
References to the likely social, cultural and political impacts of the discovery of, or contact with, extra-terrestrial life were variously touched upon by earlier speakers. In this session, I hoped we’d come to some sort of focus, and discuss scenario-based questions such as: “What would happen if Hitler’s 1936 Olympics speech was broadcast back at us?” – as happened in the film Contact. That didn’t happen, with anthropologist Kathryn Denning seeming to actively discourage the consideration of specific scenarios. I took the point that we can’t fully prepare, but still found the approach over-conservative. Anyhow, we were told there are several groups now looking into ‘post-detection issues’, and I look forward to seeing their findings.
Albert Harrison’s aforementioned analysis of Orson Welles’s War of The Worlds broadcast was entertaining, and made me realise the importance of that event as a social experiment – however unintended (how many points do we have on this particular graph?). On a related topic, I was surprised at the level of disagreement amongst the academics on the question of whether aliens would be benevolent or malevolent.
Ted Peters presented research results on how various religious groups and atheists thought a discovery of ET would impact them personally and their ( if appropriate) religious creed.
I’m oversimplifying, but in summary: theists generally felt they could individually accommodate ET, but their orthodoxy less so; those from more deist or spiritual religions – like Buddism (which I hardly consider a religion in the same vein as the others) had few if any problems – personally or as a group. In general, it seemed to be ‘the other guy’ and his religion that would have the problem, not the person asked. Ho hum…
Interestingly, the atheists felt religious people would have more of a problem than the religious themselves reported, and related to that in questions, Paul Davies suggested the results were more suggestive of religious people not knowing enough about their own religion.
The event wound up with presentations from Hungarian Academy of Science speaker Ivan Almar, and Marian Othman from the UN Office for Outer Space Affairs. Almar’s subject matter – scales – was for me a little dry and mechanical for a closing session, but prompted a lively Q&A around issues such as the representation of high-impact/low-probability events, and the use and mis-use of scale data by different groups (e.g. experts, the media).
Othman’s presentation was more of an insight into the workings of the UN committee structure, illustrated through its handling of the topic of Near Earth Objects. Her sharing of the various procedures, political considerations, and protocols provided something of a pro-forma for dealing with issues of extra-terrestrial life.
All in all, the session was notable for the way audience delegates, the critical mass of which I suspect hailed from the more natural scientist end of the spectrum (physicists, astrobiologists), engaged in discussions that necessarily fringed on speculation. Scientists rightly don’t like to speak on topics where they lack either expertise, complete data, or both of those; but the judicial placement of appropriate disclaimers led to a lively debate.
I’d like to end this post with a noble declaration to the effect that the real take-away from the meeting was that the search for ET is as much about the search for an understanding of ourselves as anything else. And while I think that’s probably true, the real thrill for me was to spend two days mixing it with a bunch of bright folk who, in these days of market focused short-termism, are still able to pursue such a worthy vision. I had great fun.
EXTRAS!
1. Listen to Jonathan Chase and his Astrobiology Rap !
2. Hear the Mercury Theatres’s War of the Worlds radio play here.
3. Hear my interview with astrobiologist Lewis Dartnell here (in spite of the background noise, I think this is a great interview):
One of nature’s more fascinating and charming aspects is displayed when completely different species interact in ways that are mutually beneficial; it’s called symbiosis.
We’ve all seen David Attenborough describe those little cleaner fish, that peck fungus off killer sharks; and the birds that pick fleas from gazelles in Africa.
But as I discovered one early UK morning in November, and as these photographs of fallow deer and magpies show, you don’t need to travel beyond suburban Surrey to see similar behaviour.
I’ve not had the time to go overboard researching this convenient pairing, but did find this from an edition of ‘The Condor’ published in 1998:
‘Ectoparasite removal was observed as the cause for Black-billed Magpies’ (Pica pica) pecking on fallow deer (Dama dama). It was also observed that deer that were sitting were preferred by the magpies over deer that were standing. The magpies also seemed to prefer adult males over adult females or calves. The ectoparasitic interaction may be benefiting birds because ectoparasites are one of their sources of food. However, its benefit to the fallow deer has yet to be investigated.’
So the magpies are in it for the munchy ectoparasites – can’t blame them; but what do the deer get out of the deal – I’m guessing a lot less itching?
And so much for the magpie’s preference for seated deer. What do you think?
Reference
Genov, Peter V., Gigantesco, Paola, Massei, Giovanna; Pub: Cooper Ornithological Society, in ‘The Condor’ 1998, ISSN: 0010-5422
I’ve just received this photograph from my good mate Sven, showing Alfred Russel Wallace’s grave and ‘tombstone’ in Broadstone Cemetery, in Dorset.
Now I know as a member of the ‘Carry-On’ generation my sensibilities are tainted, but all the same, in the spirit of low-brow citizen scientific journalism, it’s good to see A.R. can still stand tall in this remembrance year of his more celebrated associate in evolution – Charles Darwin.
The structure is in fact a two metres high fossil tree trunk, and the plaque on the wide-angle photo is for his wife Anne; presumably interred in the same grave. This is the plaque for A.R. .
Life on Earth and the possibility of life beyond the stars fascinates Dr Lewis Dartnell.
I interviewed Lewis for Imperial College Radio, and this podcast is the full conversation. We cover Dartnell’s core research in Martian radiation, the recently launched Kepler telescope, possible earth asteroid strikes. Lewis describes how knowledge of conditions on other worlds might inform maintenance of the Earth.
The noisy aircon is regrettable; and as a result the sound quality is less than ideal.
Short note on my ‘Darwin Hat-Trick day’ last Wednesday. Nothing too profound – but some nice pics!
We set off at 5 a.m., and by the end of the day had visited: (a) the supposed final resting place of Darwin’s Beagle at Paglesham, (b)the newly refurbished former home of Darwin, ‘Down House’, in Kent, (c) the Geological Society in central London for a talk from Darwin biographer Janet Browne.
This sudden urge to drive around some of the more remote reaches of England’s green and pleasant land was triggered by a recent talk by Dr Robert Prescott at the Royal Society. A podcast or vidcast should be available here within the next few days.
Prescott, who is researching the Beagle’s fate post-Darwin, has shown that after her last sea voyage in 1843 the ship served as an anti-smuggling watch vessel, anchored amidst the twisting system of waterways north of the Thames estuary. He speculates, with evidence from contemporary charts, that the mastless hulk ended its days in a permanent mooring cut into the mud of Paglesham East End, near Rochford. With images from Prescott’s talks fresh in our minds, we successfully located the otherwise unremarkable stretch of grassy mud-bank shown in the first photo.
Ground radar has revealed something of the right size and shape for the Beagle about 6 meters down, but tests on core drill samples are ongoing. The team have identified wood and diatoms, and now hope to find evidence of life specific to the South Seas caught up in the timbers. There’s some evidence that the top half of the ship was salvaged, and wooden structures consistent with the naval architecture of the day have been found in this nearby boathouse.
According to Prescott, Darwin never visited the Beagle after his famous voyage, despite the relative proximity of the craft to his home at Downe and documentary evidence that the Beagle’s Captain – Fitzroy – had kept in contact with Darwin. While Darwin acknowledged the importance of the ship to his life and work, it appears any emotional attachment he had for the vessel did not extend to a need to be reunited.
Having driven 60 miles to walk over a (albeit important) stretch of mud, we continued our walk along the river bank to be rewarded with a watch post from another era – a World War II pillbox. Pillboxes like these can be found across the south of England, and originally formed a continuous defensive line against potential German invasion.
Leaving Paglesham around 9 a.m., and arriving at Down House half an hour before the house itself opened, gave us plenty of time to explore the grounds and gardens of the Darwin family home. There’s been some replanting and landscaping as part of the refurbishment, but the famous greenhouse and ‘sandwalk’ , where Darwin did some of his most inspired thinking, are rightly unchanged.
The house itself has benefited from a super exterior paint job and refurbishment, and a major re-modeling of the upper-floor exhibition space. The personal audio guides are now video guides, but retain a pleasant enough welcome from David Attenborough. But, photographers beware ! I’ve never been anywhere where the taking of pictures inside the house is so actively discouraged – quite a contrast to how things are managed in the USA. I’d also advise an early weekday visit, as parking is limited and the experience degrades when the house is crowded. All the same, it’s a beautiful location, the house is full of atmosphere, and it’s well worth the £8 entrance fee.
Down House is a stone’s throw from the village of Downe (with an ‘e’ this time) and the local church where Emma Darwin, Charles’s brother Erasmus, and Darwin’s servant Parslow are buried.
At 2 o’clock we were starting to feel the effects of the early start, so it was back to Kingston to drop off the car and consume some large coffees.
Phase three of our hat-trick required a train ride into the centre of London to see and hear Janet Browne speak at the Geological Society.
Browne, best known for her two Darwin biographies Voyaging and Power of Place, was over from Harvard to speak on the theme of ‘Two Hundred Years of Evolution: Celebrating Charles Darwin in 2009’ .
I guess the thrust of the talk was around how the various controversies surrounding Darwin and his theory have been accepted, challenged, and interpreted at different times and places. For my part I found Browne’s historical interpretation clear and entertaining. I was, however, at something of a loss to understand quite where she personally stood on more contemporary issues such as the compatibility of Darwinian evolutionary theory and religious belief. What I took from the early part of her talk as an accommodationist approach didn’t entirely jibe with her response during questions when, for example, she credited Dawkins’s stance as ‘brave’. Anyhow, you can listen to the podcast here at the Geological Society website and draw your own conclusions.
I can’t let the day go by without some sort of homage to Thomas Henry Huxley (1825-1895); for today – 4th May – is indeed his birthday.
Everyone with a special interest in science, or those working in the sciences, has heard of T.H. Huxley. But for many others the name Huxley is more often associated with T.H.’s grandson Aldous – of ‘Brave New World’ fame or, closer to 20th century science and politics, Aldous’s biologist brother and founder of UNESCO Julian Huxley.
And in Darwin’s 200th anniversary year we’ve seen ‘T.H.’ come to the fore as Darwin’s Bulldog – portrayed as a kind of willing intellectual ‘heavy’, clearing the way of dissenters for Charles’s evolutionary thesis to hold forth – sending bishops flying as he went. I referenced the most recent re-enactment of Huxley’s encounter with Bishop Wilberforce during this year’s Secularist of the Year Awards here.
But Thomas Henry was very much his own man (no sexism intended). Originally trained in medicine, he served as a ship’s surgeon aboard the Rattlesnake in early life but, lacking the financial independence enjoyed by Darwin and other ‘gentlemen scientists’ of the day, had to establish his scientific credibility by hard clawing through the establishment.
In fact, T.H. should be the patron saint of impoverished scientists, for while his later life was comfortable, financial recompense during most of his career was totally out of kilter with his societal contribution and achievement. Fortunately, on an occasion when Huxley’s body failed to keep pace with his spirit, friends who were also members of the scientific ‘X-Club’ chipped in with Darwin to pay for a recuperative continental break.
Huxley’s interest was science in all its manifestations, and his legacy is today’s acceptance of science as a profession, and a system for science education that has its roots in the biology classes he held at South Kensington.
But T.H. was not happy doing just science. In fact there was a conscious moment when he was overtaken by the conviction that helping others understand science was even more important than the science itself; I guess that makes him the patron saint of science communicators as well then!
There was nothing snobbish or ‘look down your nose’ about Huxley’s lectures for working men. His monologue on ‘A Piece of Chalk’ is an icon of communication – of any sort – and can be compared with Michael Faraday’s famed public dissection of ‘The Chemical History of A Candle’ at the Royal Institution.
Being so close to nature, evolutionary concepts, and Charles Darwin, Huxley was bound to take a stance on religion. He coined the term ‘agnostic’ and declared himself as such. I think to understand exactly what HE meant by that you need to read his letters and essays. A pragmatist, Huxley did not subscribe to religious dogma through scripture, but at the same time was concerned that society could not function without something to fill the gap that would be left by, say, the removal of bibles from schools. I’ll resist several more paragraphs comparing Huxley to Richard Dawkins in this regard; suffice to say I believe there are fundamental similarities between the two – but also differences.
Although you’d never guess from the title or intro to this blog, it was Huxley, and specifically Adrian Desmond’s biographies – ‘The Devil’s Desciple’ and ‘From Devil’s Desciple to Evolution’s High Priest’ (which respectively deal with Huxley’s earlier and later years) that have most inspired me – in quite fundamental ways.
Anyone who ‘Twitters’ knows there are an awful lot of motivational gurus out there and, while I’m not against that, believe you’ll find in Huxley’s life a 90% exemplar of the right-thinking, right-stuff behaviour for a happy life. In fact, exploring the Zoonomian Archives I find I referenced the great man in August last year, here comparing his philosophy with that of a former headmaster at my school; perhaps the Huxley influence runs deeper than I know? There endeth that lesson.
If you want to know more about T.H., read the Desmond biographies alongside some of Huxley’s collected essays. And for a deeper understanding, the ‘Life and Letters of T.H.Huxley’ – published by his son Leonard in 1901 are engaging. The Huxley File is a comprehensive web reference.
Now something for the Huxley aficionados and the just plain interested:
On 15th July 1893, Huxley was sitting at his desk in his home Hodeslea, in Eastborne in the south of England, writing a letter to Sir J Skelton; you can find it on p.383 of the U.S. Appleton edition of ‘Letters’.
Huxley tells Skelton how he never fully recovered from a bout of influenza in the spring and is setting off the next day to Maloja (Switzerland) for one of his recuperative breaks. As Huxley says: “It mended up the shaky old heart-pump five years ago, and I hope will again.” The next recorded letter I can find is from October 1st 1893. But Huxley did write at least one more letter on the 15th July – I know because I have it :-).
The note is to the publishers Williams and Norgate, sending a cheque as payment on his account, and asking them to obtain a missing volume.
So, it’s not exactly a keystone in the scientific chronology. But, taken in the context of the Skelton letter, Huxley’s last line does conjour up images of packed suitcases and trunks: ‘I am going abroad directly for nine weeks‘. Proving……I’m just a big romantic at heart.
This website uses cookies to improve your experience while you navigate through the website. Out of these, the cookies that are categorized as necessary are stored on your browser as they are essential for the working of basic functionalities of the website. We also use third-party cookies that help us analyze and understand how you use this website. These cookies will be stored in your browser only with your consent. You also have the option to opt-out of these cookies. But opting out of some of these cookies may affect your browsing experience.
Necessary cookies are absolutely essential for the website to function properly. This category only includes cookies that ensures basic functionalities and security features of the website. These cookies do not store any personal information.
Any cookies that may not be particularly necessary for the website to function and is used specifically to collect user personal data via analytics, ads, other embedded contents are termed as non-necessary cookies. It is mandatory to procure user consent prior to running these cookies on your website.