Yesterday I posted about a map that “changed the world”. Clearly the world changed a lot and for many different reasons because when I got home I noticed the following picture on Facebook, depicting 17 equations that also “changed the world”:
This is from a book by mathematician Ian Stewart.
Of course it’s actually 20 equations, because there are four Maxwell Equations. It is an interesting selection. Are there any surprising omissions?
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Friday was the last day of teaching term here at the University of Sussex. Aided by the general winding down of things I managed the unusual feat of geting up to London in time to catch some of the monthly discussion meeting of the Royal Astronomical Society, which was on A Critical Assessment of Cluster Cosmology. Usually I only just manage to get there in time for some of the Ordinary Meeting which follows the specialist meetings at 4pm. And sometimes I only get there in time for the drinks reception at Burlington House followed by the RAS Club dinner at the Athenaeum!
I may write something about Cluster Cosmology if I get time before Christmas, but I thought I’d post an item now inspired by one of the talks in the Ordinary Meeting by Tom Sharpe of Lyme Regis Museum and Cardiff University. This talk was timed to mark the 200th anniversary of the publication of the first ever geological map of England and Wales in 1815. To make it even more topical, the talk was given in the lecture theatre of the Geological Society of London where an original print of the Map is on permanent display:
The person responsible for this map, which was the first to show nationwide geological strata, was a chap called William Smith who surveyed England and Wales on foot and on horseback, travelling over 10,000 miles to make it. It was a remarkable achievement which, among many other things, led the way to great changes in the understanding of geological time. Unfortunately his work didn’t have much impact when it was first published. Smith, who was evidently not a very astute businessman, eventually went bankrupt and spent some time in a debtor’s prison.
The map itself is extremely beautiful as well as very clever in the way it uses colours and shading to represent three-dimensional information on a two dimensional surface.
Anyway, there is a book entitled The Map that Changed the World written by Simon Winchester which tells the story of William Smith and his map. I haven’t read it but I’m told it’s excellent. I’ll probably buy a copy with the book tokens I inevitably get for Christmas!
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I’m indebted to a fellow blogger for drawing my attention to the person shown in the above picture, Dr Richard Price who has been described as “the most original thinker ever born in Wales”, and who has a Society named after him.
Price was a moral philosopher, nonconformist preacher and also a mathematician of some note. Of particular interest to this blog is the role he played in the development of what is now known as Bayes’ Theorem, after the Reverend Thomas Bayes.
However, the paper in the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society that contains the first published form of this theorem was not published until 1763, over a year after Bayes’ death and, as you can see if you follow the link, is attributed jointly to “Mr Bayes and Mr Price”. It appears that there was an original manuscript written by Bayes around about 1755 which was communicated to Price when Bayes died in 1761 and then presented for publication over a year later; Price had been asked to act as “literary executor” of Bayes’ estate.
Unfortunately the original manuscript has never been found and it is therefore impossible to say for sure how much Price contributed to the final version. However, a relatively recent and very interesting article raises this question, and argues (reasonably convincingly to my mind) that Bayes’ part stops at page 14 of 32 pages. It is therefore quite possible that Price wrote over half the paper himself although most historical discussions of this matter simple state that Price “edited” Bayes’ work.
It has to be said that the paper is not exactly a model of clarity and pertains only to a particular case of the full theorem. The form in general use today was first published by Laplace in 1812, so it should really be called Laplace’s Theorem, but Laplace did give generous credit to the work of Bayes which is no doubt why the name stuck.
I don’t suppose we will know for sure exactly how much Price contributed to the development of Bayes’ theorem, but this may be yet another example of the law that any result in science or mathematics that has a person’s name attached to it has the wrong name attached to it!
Finally, I will mention that the Richard Price Society has started a petition to the Welsh government. I’m taking the liberty of copying the purpose of this petition here:
We call on the Welsh government to acknowledge the important contribution of Dr Richard Price not only to the eighteenth century Enlightenment, but also to the making of the modern world that we live in today, and develop his birthplace and childhood home into a visitor information centre where people of all nationalities and ages can discover how his significant contributions to theology, mathematics and philosophy have shaped the modern world.
Tynton Farm in Llangeinor, the birthplace and childhood home of Dr Richard Price is for sale. Once derelict, the farm has been sensitively restored and almost all of the original features have been preserved. The Richard Price Society is aware that the house attracts visitors from all corners of the globe and this is attested by the previous owner’s Visitors Book that was signed by visitors to the farm. The position of the farm and its provenance would make it an ideal learning centre where people can find out just what an important person he was and remains. This is an opportunity to buy the property at market value and help celebrate the achievements of Wales’ intellectual giant and apostle of liberty.
I have signed it, and hope you will consider doing likewise!
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Many people have been celebrating the centenary of the birth of Einstein’s Theory of General Relativity this year, but it’s not obvious precisely what date to select. I’ve decided to go for today, partly because the News on BBC Radio 3 did when I work up this morning, but also because there is a well-known publication that mentions that date:
The 25th November 1915 was the date on which Einstein presented the “final” form of his theory to the Prussian Academy of Sciences. You can find a full translation of the paper “The Field Equations of Gravitation” here. You will see that he refers to a couple of earlier papers in that work, but I think this one is the first presentation of the full theory. It fascinated me when I was looking at the history of GR for the textbook I was working on about 20 years ago that the main results (e.g. on cosmology, the bending of light and on the perihelion of mercury) are spread over a large number of rather short papers rather than all being in one big one. I guess that was the style of the times!
So there you are, General Relativity has been around for 100 years. At least according to one particular reference frame…
Oh, and here’s a cute little video – funded by the Science and Technology Facilities Council – celebrating the centenary:
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No beards on your bonfire please!!
Beard Liberation Front
PRESS RELEASE 2nd November
Contact Keith Flett 07803 167266
CAMPAIGNERS WARN ON GUY FAWKES BONFIRE NIGHT POGONOPHOBIA
The Beard Liberation Front, the informal network of beard wearers, has warned of Guy Fawkes pogonophobia as bonfires around the country burn effigies of a hirsute man on Thursday evening and the following weekend.
Pogonophobia is the ancient Greek for an irrational fear or hatred of facial hair, known as beardism in modern English.
The BLF says that November 5th is the traditional highlight of the pogonophobes year as they burn an effigy of what they assume to be a dangerous radical figure with a beard, although few will openly discuss their often deep seated concerns about beard wearers
BLF Organiser Keith Flett said the irony is that Guy Fawkes was a deeply reactionary character who, had he lived now, would almost certainly not have had a beard under any…
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Once again we’re coming up to Remembrance Sunday, an occasion to remember those who have given their lives in conflicts past and present. This is always held on the second Sunday in November in the United Kingdom, so that it is close to the date of anniversary of the armistice that formally ended the First World War, on 11th November 1918. Another way to commemorate this is the observance of two minutes’ silence at 11am on 11th November itself. I plan to do that, next Wednesday (which is the 11th November). I’ve kept my calendar free at 11am precisely for that purpose.
Then there is the wearing of a poppy. The poppy appeal raises money for veterans and their families, but the wearing of these little red paper flowers is something that not everyone feels comfortable with. Some people think that to wear a poppy is to celebrate militarism or even Britain’s imperialist past. I don’t see it that way at all. In fact, if someone asked me to wear a badge to support Britain’s participation in the invasion of Iraq, I’d certainly refuse.
I wrote about my reaction to the horror and futility of war some time ago, so I’ll try not to repeat myself except to say that, to me, the poppy is not about celebrating war or military prowess or imperialism, it’s simply about remembering those who died. In fact, one of the main reasons the paraphernalia of Remembrance Day observances (the Poppy, the Cenotaph, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, etc) were set up in the first place was to remind not just people but also governments of the devastation caused by World War One. That’s why the Remembrance Day ceremonial laying of wreaths takes place in Whitehall, right at the heart of government. The ritual was specifically intended to be a warning to the politicians who had brought the conflict about not to allow it to happen again.
As a young lefty student I grappled with the implications of the poppy appeal. The Peace Pledge Union produces white poppies, as an overtly anti-war symbol of remembrance. For a time I wore a white poppy but, although I am against war, I don’t think a policy of non-violence would have helped much against Hitler’s Nazi regime and therefore can’t really call myself an out-and-out pacifist. One year I wore both white and red poppies, but since then I’ve decided to stick with a red one.
Of course many in the Establishment would like the poppy to turn into a symbol of obedience, a kind of alternative national flag. Some people choose not to wear it precisely because it has that implication. The sight of some hypocritical warmongerers wearing the poppy at the Cenotaph on these occasions sickens me, but their betrayal does not make me want to stop wearing it myself. Neither does the fact that our politicians seem content to give away the freedoms that so many died to protect.
People have a wide range of views about the poppy and its meaning. There is no “right” answer – every person’s attitude is shaped by a number of factors, not least by whether or not they have lost a loved one in any form of armed conflict. Some of us wear wear a poppy, some don’t. It’s a matter of choice. The fact that we have a choice is important in itself. I would probably refuse to wear a poppy myself if someone tried to make it compulsory.
Some poppy sellers use the slogan Wear Your Poppy With Pride, but the original meaning is much better expressed by the original, Lest We Forget. I’m not sure I wear mine with pride at all, in fact. What I feel is really more like shame, at the wastefulness and stupidity of armed conflict. I count myself incredibly lucky that I have never had to live through anything like that, not only because I’ve had a relatively peaceful and comfortable life, but also because I have never been tested in the way previous generations were. I wear the poppy to acknowledge their bravery and to recognize my own good fortune. When I stand for the two minutes silence I remember those all who fell fighting on all sides of all wars, and fallen civilians too.
When the newsreader Jon Snow decided not to wear a poppy on TV a few years ago, there were angry complaints. I’m sure he didn’t mean disrespect to the cause but disliked the pressure being put on him to conform. I can see his point. It has to be voluntary if it is to mean anything at all. . But in the end I agree with Euan Ferguson’s piece in the Observer a few years ago:
I don’t like pressure being put on people to conform. Orthodoxy and fear are always to be regretted and today’s society is over-condemnatory, swift to its manufactured outrage. But this change seems to have come from below, not been ordered by bullies: the daily reports of life and death in the forces, of the danger other 20-year-olds daily find themselves facing. And is the symbolism of the poppy being degraded as it is customised? No. You can’t do much to the fabulous simplicity of this symbol. And the poppy doesn’t preach: it’s not about “right” or “wrong” wars, but about brave dead soldiers. And the message was, never, Remember in the way we tell you to remember. It is, simply, Lest We Forget.
So, yes. I am wearing a poppy again this year. Lest we forget.
Follow @telescoperThis reminds me of one of the two plausible explanations for the origin of the word “Geordie” – that miners from the Newcastle area favoured lamps of the type invented by George Stephenson described in this article, while those in the rest of the country (including the Midlands) used the Davy Lamp, invented around the same time in 1815.
The other explanation of the origin of Geordie relates to the 1715 Jacobite rebellion, when the city of Newcastle upon Tyne closed its gates to the rebel army from Scotland and declared its loyalty to King George I. The rebels were eventually defeated at the Battle of Preston.
The word “Geordie” is thus either 200 or 300 years old depending on which account you believe…
This year marks 200 years since the invention of the Geordie Lamp – a revolutionary invention by George Stephenson – which is on view off our reception until Christmas.
Committee for the Remuneration of George Stephenson for his Safety Lamp Invention
In 1812, Stephenson was an engine-wright at Killingworth High Pit. In this role, he was in charge of all of the colliery machine of the Grand Allies. Because this machinery was not only above ground, but also below, Stephenson spent a lot of time actually down in the mines carrying out maintenance and repairs. He was all too well aware of the poor working conditions that the miners had to deal with, and the casualties that took place due to firedamp explosions. Indeed, in a previous role, he had been working at the West Moor pit in when a firedamp explosion killed 10 miners.
Firedamp is the combination of…
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As soon as I got home from Oxford yesterday I heard the very sad news of the death of writer, scholar and broadcaster Lisa Jardine, who has passed away at the age of 71.
Today’s newspapers are filled with tributes from people who are fair better qualified than me to discuss her career as a historian (e.g. here and here). I can’t leave her death unmarked, but I’ll restrict myself to some personal recollections. Lisa Jardine worked at Queen Mary College when I was employed there (from 1990-1998) . I won’t claim to have known her well but I did meet her quite a few times, usually in the Senior Common Room bar. She seemed to me to be a rarity: a historian who was genuinely interested in, and knowledgeable about, science. In fact she knew an enormous amount about a huge range of different subjects, but was also extremely engaging and approachable, though she didn’t suffer fools gladly (if at all). She was a delight to talk to; conversations with Lisa were always both entertaining and educational. What I’ll remember most, however, is her deliciously cheeky sense of humour and the marvellous twinkle in her eye. It’s hard to believe that she has gone.
Rest in Peace, Lisa Jardine (1944-2015).
P.S. In case you weren’t aware, Lisa Jardine was the daughter of famous polymath Jacob Bronowski who was of Polish-Jewish origin. I mention that not to detract from Lisa’s own achievements as an academic, but to draw attention to yet another family of “migrants” that has enriched our nation’s culture.
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Today is the 75th Anniversary of the day that historians regard as the climax of the Battle of Britain. To commemorate this, a huge flypast will take place across the South of England. Unfortunately, the weather isn’t too great today, and I don’t think it will be quite the spectacle that was intended, although Purple, Brown and Black sections are due to fly over Brighton from RAF Goodwood and perhaps the clouds will have broken up by the time they get here. Normally Battle of Britain Day is commemorated on a Sunday, as 15th September 1940 lay on a Sunday.
I had a friend – now long dead – who served as a fighter pilot in the RAF during the Battle of Britain and I once asked him about the tactics they used. He explained that they didn’t really have any tactics. When scrambled they were usually lucky if they managed to get to the right altitude before the enemy were on them. And if they did, they just flew head on at the incoming planes and tried to shoot them down. There was little point in attacking a big formation from behind with a handful of planes, which was the usual situation: you might pick off one or two but the bombers would carry on to their target. You had to attack from the front in order to scatter them. He added that on a good day, if you were feeling exceptionally brave, you might even keep your eyes open as you screamed straight into the enemy at getting on for 400 mph.
Another event of 15th September 1940 exemplifies the almost insane courage of the RAF pilots. A formation of Dornier bombers penetrated the British air defencesa as central London, where it was engaged by planes from a number of RAF squadrons, including the Hurricane of Flight Sergeant Ray Holmes. Holmes got into position to shoot down one Dornier, but when attempted to fire he discovered he had run out of ammunition. In an act of amazing bravery he decided to ram the Dornier. He succeeded ins slicing off the plane’s tail and it came down on Victoria Station. Somewhat improbably, Holmes managed to bale out and, though injured, survived to fight again. He died in 2005.
The other thing that this event reminded me of was the film Battle of Britain. The movie is a bit dated now, largely because some of the special effects don’t really stand up to modern comparisons: no cgi when it was made, for example. The best thing about it for me, though, is the wonderful music written for the film by William Walton, especially in the following sequence where the dogfights are shown with only the music as soundtrack. This turns the shots of terrifying close-range combat into a something a lot more than an action movie. It’s a work of art.
The context of this sequence is, as far as I know, historically accurate. Over the summer of 1940 the Luftwaffe had sent raid after raid over to attack Britain, these raids increasing in size as time went on. Hugh Dowding, Head of Fighter Command at that time, refused to let his planes be drawn into a huge battle against numerically superior forces and instead kept most of his planes in reserve, sending up only a squadron or half a squadron to meet the incoming planes. Thanks to the breaking of the German Air Force Enigma code, Dowding knew that the Luftwaffe pilots had been handing in grossly exaggerated reports of how many planes they had been shooting down. Convinced that the RAF was on the brink of collapse, the Germans launched an enormous air raid on September 15th 1940 intended to deliver the knockout blow and prepare the way for invasion.
Dowding knew that they were coming, and put every available plane at the RAFs disposal into the air. The survival of this country was at stake during this battle. There were no reserves. When the Luftwaffe arrived over Britain their pilots were aghast to find the air filled with Spitfires and Hurricanes whose pilots, having been consistently outnumbered in the battles so far, relished the chance to fight for once with something close to numerical equality with the enemy. The RAF scored a decisive victory, convincing Hitler to abandon his plans for an invasion in 1940.
Follow @telescoperI’m not the biggest fan of Simon Jenkins, especially when he goes off on one of his childish anti-science rants, but there’s a powerful piece by him in today’s Guardian with which I agree totally. Reading the article on the bus, and especially the passage about the arrival of Huguenot refugees from France in the 18th Century, I decided to repost the content of an item from about 5 years ago, to demonstrate the importance of immigration to Britain’s culture and traditions, sometimes in very surprising ways.
Have you ever wondered where and when the traditional “British” dish of fish and chips originated? The answer is fascinating, and a little bit controversial too.
The practice of eating fried fish in batter started to appear in England during the fifteenth century; it was derived from the Pescado Frito cooked by Portuguese Sephardic Jews – Marranos – who had moved to Britain to escape persecution in their homeland. By the Victorian era “Fish Fried in the Jewish Fashion” was extremely popular in the working class districts of London, particularly in the East End. Dickens refers to a “fried fish warehouse” in Oliver Twist, which was first published in 1837. It seems to have become available in large quantities with the rapid development of trawler fishing in the mid 19th century.
Incidentally, there is a prominent relic of the Spanish and Portuguese Jews who settled in the East End right next to Queen Mary, University of London in Mile End (see left). The burial ground has, I think, recently been moved but it neverthless provides a timely reminder that immigration is by no means a new phenomenon as far as the East End is concerned.
The traditional way of frying the fish involved oil and I don’t know precisely when the practice of using lard – which is what is used in many modern shops – came on the scene, but it clearly would not have met with Jewish approval and must have been a more recent development.
The origin of chips is more controversial. The first occurence of this usage of the word chip according to the Oxford English Dictionary appears in Dickens’ novel A Tale of Two Cities, dated 1859, in the phrase
Husky chips of potatoes, fried with some reluctant drops of oil
Some say the practice of frying potatoes like this originated in Belgium or France, and that chips are a British version of pommes frites or french fries. This style of cooking potatoes could have been brought to London by the Huguenots (French Protestants who settled in the East End of London after being forced out of their homeland). However, there is some controversy about how and why chips became so popular throughout Britain. Some claim the practice of eating fried potatoes was already established in the North of England before 1859. It also seems that fried chipped potatoes were served in working class eating establishments throughout Victorian London. Many working people – especially single men living in lodging houses – lacked the facilities or the ability to cook anything substantial at home, so preferred to buy their food ready made. At an Irish Ordinary you could get a filling meal of beer, meat and fried potatoes for about tuppence (in old money). Such establishments proliferated all over London during the 19th Century as the number of navvies and other itinerant Irish labourers grew in response to the demand for manual workers across the country.
I think it was most likely the presence of a nearby Irish Ordinary that led a Jewish londoner called Joseph Malin to hit upon the idea of combining fried fish with chipped potatoes. At any rate it’s reasonably well established that the very first commercial Fish-and-Chip Shop was opened by him in 1860 in Cleveland Street and business was so good that it was followed by many others across the East End of London and beyond.
There’s something rather inspiring about rediscovering that Britain is nation whose traditions and institutions have always been so reliant on foreign immigrants. Even Fish and Chips turns out to be from somewhere else. This is actually what makes me proud to be British.
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In the Dark 