Archive for the Literature Category

Valley Comprehensive

Posted in Poetry with tags , , on November 6, 2009 by telescoper

The other day I wandered into a bookshop in Cardiff and happened upon a collection of poems by Patrick Jones called darkness is where the stars are (published by the wonderful Cinnamon Press). In case you weren’t aware, Patrick Jones a Welsh poet who is the brother of Nicky Wire, the bass player of the Manic Street Preachers and he has collaborated with the band extensively over the years.  You can find his official website here.

This particular collection of poems was at the centre of a controversy around this time last year because a campaigning group called Christian Voice decided it was blasphemous and protested in large numbers outside Waterstone’s Bookshop where the book was to be launched at an event at which poet was planning to read some of his work. The launch was cancelled at  the advice of the local Police, for  “safety reasons”. Jones later read some of his poems at the Welsh Assembly.

Whatever its motivations this protest clearly backfired because the book gained  more publicity than a publisher of modern poetry could ever dream of. It certainly made me curious about it last year, although I soon forget about it. However, seeing it again more recently, I finally decided to buy it.

As an atheist, I’m not competent to pronounce on whether or not it is blasphemous, although some of the poems do deal uncompromisingly with themes about which many are extremely sensitive, especially religion and sexuality.

I thought I’d put one of the poems on here by way of an advertisement for the collection as a whole which Peter Tatchell describes on the cover as “thoughtful, provocative and challenging”.  I picked a poem called Valley Comprehensive. Although written from the point of view of an English teacher bemoaning the regimentation of modern school education, it struck a chord with me in the light of yesterday’s post. Science education nowadays also has too much of an emphasis on the memorising of facts and too little on the drawing about the creative abilities of the human brain. I always thought the main problem is that the word “learn” can be taken to mean “memorise” as well as “discover”. Too much education concentrates on the former rather than the latter.

I don’t think it really matters so much whether you use words or equations to express ideas. Poets and physicists are not as different as you might think, except writing poetry is harder.

when questions become answers
when stars are merely facts
as the white board becomes all knowing lord
and red pens stamp our destiny on our stooping backs

the beauty of learning dies
when minds cannot search and find
just swallow factations whole
when exam results and league tables
fire the engines of education
it’s the premiership in the classroom
no room for the least able
the noose tightens on free thought
as sets slyly amputate aspiration

only those who will pass the tests
will be allowed to take the tests

as
the unchosen
stammer in silence
tread water in clock watched anticipation
until their failure is legitimised
and school becomes brain asphyxiation

no wonder in the universe
no questions for their gods
i’d rather a tree taught me how to grow
than
tell a class how not to write

only those who will pass the tests
will be allowed to take the tests

shouldn’t education be
about teaching children

how,

not

what

to think?

(reproduced with the kind permission of Cinnamon Press).

Exploitation

Posted in Poetry, Science Politics with tags , , on October 27, 2009 by telescoper

At the last Meeting of the RAS Council on October 9th 2009, Professor Keith Mason, Chief Executive of the Science and Technology Facilities Council (STFC), made a presentation after which he claimed that STFC spends too much on “exploitation”, i.e. on doing science with the facilities it provides. This statement clearly signals an intention to cut grants to research groups still further and funnel a greater proportion of STFC’s budget into technology development rather than pure research.

Following on from Phillip Helbig’s challenge a couple of posts ago, I decided to commemorate the occasion with an appropriate sonnet, inspired by Shakespeare’s Sonnet 14.

TO.THE.ONLIE.BEGETTER.OF.THIS.INSU(LT)ING.SONNET.

Mr K.O.M.

It seems Keith Mason doesn’t give a fuck
About the future of Astronomy.
“The mess we’re in is down to rotten luck
And our country’s  ruin’d economy”;
Or that’s the tale our clueless leader tells
When oft by angry critics he’s assailed,
Undaunted he in Swindon’s office dwells
Refusing to accept it’s him that failed.
And now he tells us we must realise:
We spend “too much on science exploitation”.
Forget the dreams of research in blue skies
The new name of the game is wealth creation.
A truth his recent statement underlines
Is that we’re doomed unless this man resigns.

Nox Nocti Indicat Scientiam

Posted in Poetry, The Universe and Stuff with tags , on October 23, 2009 by telescoper

According to my blog access statistics, some of the poems I post on here seem to be fairly popular so I thought I’d put up another one by another poet  from the Metaphysical tradition, William Habington. He belonged to a prominent Catholic family and lived in England from 1605 to 1654, during a time of great religious upheaval.

The title of this particular poem is taken from the Latin (Vulgate) version of Psalm 19, the first two lines of which are

Caeli enarrant gloriam Dei et opus manus eius adnuntiat firmamentum.
Dies diei eructat verbum et nox nocti indicat scientiam.

The King James Bible translates this as

The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork.
Day unto day uttereth speech, and night unto night sheweth knowledge.

Some translations I have seen give “night after night” rather than the form above. My distant recollection of  Latin learnt at school tells me that nocti is the dative case of the third declension noun nox, so I think think “night shows knowledge to night” is indeed the correct sense of the Latin. Of course I don’t know what the sense of the original Hebrew is!

The original Psalm is the text on which one of the mightiest choruses of Haydn’s  Creation is based, “The Heavens are Telling” and Habington’s poem is a meditation on it. It seems to me to be a natural companion to the poem by John Masefield I posted earlier in the week, but I don’t know whether they share a common inspiration in the Psalm or just in the Universe itself.

When I survey the bright
Celestial sphere;
So rich with jewels hung, that Night
Doth like an Ethiop bride appear:

My soul her wings doth spread
And heavenward flies,
Th’ Almighty’s mysteries to read
In the large volumes of the skies.

For the bright firmament
Shoots forth no flame
So silent, but is eloquent
In speaking the Creator’s name.

No unregarded star
Contracts its light
Into so small a character,
Removed far from our human sight,

But if we steadfast look
We shall discern
In it, as in some holy book,
How man may heavenly knowledge learn.

It tells the conqueror
That far-stretch’d power,
Which his proud dangers traffic for,
Is but the triumph of an hour:

That from the farthest North,
Some nation may,
Yet undiscover’d, issue forth,
And o’er his new-got conquest sway:

Some nation yet shut in
With hills of ice
May be let out to scourge his sin,
Till they shall equal him in vice.

And then they likewise shall
Their ruin have;
For as yourselves your empires fall,
And every kingdom hath a grave.

Thus those celestial fires,
Though seeming mute,
The fallacy of our desires
And all the pride of life confute:–

For they have watch’d since first
The World had birth:
And found sin in itself accurst,
And nothing permanent on Earth.


I could not sleep for thinking of the sky

Posted in Poetry with tags , on October 21, 2009 by telescoper

A comment from another blogger about an item of mine containing another bit of poetry led me to put up this astronomy-inspired poem, by the former Poet Laureate John Masefield. It’s from a cycle called Lollingdown Downs, and is actually the 12th poem in the sequence. I hope you like it.

I could not sleep for thinking of the sky,
The unending sky, with all its million suns
Which turn their planets everlastingly
In nothing, where the fire-haired comet runs.

If I could sail that nothing, I should cross
Silence and emptiness with dark stars passing,
Then, in the darkness, see a point of gloss
Burn to a glow, and glare, and keep amassing,

And rage into a sun with wandering planets
And drop behind, and then, as I proceed,
See his last light upon his last moon’s granites
Die to a dark that would be night indeed.

Night where my soul might sail a million years
In nothing, not even death, not even tears.

 

Greatness in Little

Posted in Poetry, The Universe and Stuff with tags , , on October 15, 2009 by telescoper

The BBC Website yesterday mentioned that according to the British Astronomer Royal, Lord Martin Rees, celestial bodies are less complicated than the bodies of insects – let alone those of human beings – and cosmology is an easier science than the study of a balanced diet.

As I was tucking into my carefully balanced meal of fish and chips last night, the first part of the quotation suddenly reminded me of the following poem Greatness in Little by Richard Leigh (1649-1728), a relatively obscure poet of the seventeenth century who managed to excel himself in this particular poem of 1675 in which he compares the intricate workings of insects with the grandest achievements of human explorers.

In spotted globes, that have resembled all
Which we or beasts possess to one great ball
Dim little specks for thronging cities stand,
Lines wind for rivers, blots bound sea and land.
Small are those spots which in the moon we view,
Yet glasses these like shades of mountains shew;
As what an even brightness does retain,
A glorious level seems, and shining plain.
Those crowds of stars in the populous sky,
Which art beholds as twinkling worlds on high,
Appear to naked, unassisted sight
No more than sparks or slender points of light.
The sun, a flaming universe alone,
Bigger than that about which his fires run;
Enlightening ours, his globe but part does gild,
Part by his lustre or Earth’s shades concealed;
His glory dwindled so, as what we spy
Scarce fills the narrow circle of the eye.
What new Americas of light have been
Yet undiscovered there, or yet unseen,
Art’s near approaches awfully forbid,
As in the majesty of nature hid.
Nature, who with like state, and equal pride,
Her great works does in height and distance hide,
And shuts up her minuter bodies all
In curious frames, imperceptibly small.
Thus still incognito, she seeks recess
In greatness half-seen, or dim littleness.
Ah, happy littleness! that art thus blest,
That greatest glories aspire to seem least.
Even those installed in a higher sphere,
The higher they are raised, the less appear,
And in their exaltation emulate
Thy humble grandeur and thy modest state.
Nor is this all thy praise, though not the least,
That greatness is thy counterfeit at best.
Those swelling honours, which in that we prize,
Thou dost contain in thy more thrifty size;
And hast that pomp, magnificence does boast,
Though in thy stature and dimensions lost.
Those rugged little bodies whose parts rise
And fall in various inequalities,
Hills in the risings of their surface show,
As valleys in their hollow pits below.
Pompous these lesser things, but yet less rude
Than uncompact and looser magnitude.
What Skill is in the frame of Insects shown?
How fine the Threds, in their small Textures spun?
How close those Instruments and Engines knit,
Which Motion, and their slender Sense transmit?
Like living Watches, each of these conceals
A thousand Springs of Life, and moving wheels.
Each ligature a Lab’rynth seems, each part
All wonder is, all Workmanship and Art.
Rather let me this little Greatness know,
Then all the Mighty Acts of Great Ones do.
These Engines understand, rather than prove
An Archimedes, and the Earth remove.
These Atom-Worlds found out, I would despise
Colombus, and his vast Discoveries.

Three Poems by R. S. Thomas

Posted in Poetry with tags , on October 7, 2009 by telescoper

They

The new explorers don’t go
anywhere and what they discover
we can’t see. But they change our lives.

They interpret absence
as presence, measuring it by the movement
of its neighbours. Their world is

an immense place: deep down is as distant
as far out, but is arrived at
in no time. These are the new

linguists, exchanging acrosss closed
borders the currency of their symbols.
Have I been too long on my knees

worrying over the obscurity
of a message? These have their way, too,
other than a prayer of breaking that abstruse code.

Night Sky

What they are saying is
that there is life there, too:
that the universe is the size it is
to enable us to catch up.

They have gone on from the human:
that shining is a reflection
of their intelligence. Godhead
is the colonisation by mind

of untenanted space. It is its own
light, a statement beyond language
of conceptual truth. Every night
is a rinsing myself of the darkness

that is in my veins. I let the stars inject me
with fire, silent as it is far,
but certain in its cauterising
of my despair. I am a slow

traveller, but there is more than time
to arrive. Resting in the intervals
of my breathing, I pick up the signals
relayed to me from a periphery I comprehend.

The New Mariner

In the silence
that is his chosen medium
of communication and telling
others about it
in words. Is there no way
not to be the sport
of reason? For me now
there is only the God-space
into which I send out
my probes. I had looked forward
to old age as a time
of quietness, a time to draw
my horizons about me,
to watch memories ripening
in the sunlight of a walled garden.
But there is the void
over my head and the distance
within that the tireless signals
come from. An astronaut
on impossible journeys
to the far side of the self
I return with the messages
I cannot decipher, garrulous
about them, worrying the ear
of the passer-by, hot on his way
to the marriage of plain fact with plain fact.

(by Ronald Stuart Thomas)

Poem in October

Posted in Poetry with tags , on October 2, 2009 by telescoper

 

It was my thirtieth year to heaven
Woke to my hearing from harbour and neighbour wood   
      And the mussel pooled and the heron
                  Priested shore
            The morning beckon
With water praying and call of seagull and rook
And the knock of sailing boats on the net webbed wall   
            Myself to set foot
                  That second
      In the still sleeping town and set forth.

 

      My birthday began with the water-
Birds and the birds of the winged trees flying my name   
      Above the farms and the white horses
                  And I rose   
            In rainy autumn
And walked abroad in a shower of all my days.
High tide and the heron dived when I took the road
            Over the border
                  And the gates
      Of the town closed as the town awoke.

 

      A springful of larks in a rolling
Cloud and the roadside bushes brimming with whistling   
      Blackbirds and the sun of October
                  Summery
            On the hill’s shoulder,
Here were fond climates and sweet singers suddenly   
Come in the morning where I wandered and listened   
            To the rain wringing
                  Wind blow cold
      In the wood faraway under me.

 

      Pale rain over the dwindling harbour
And over the sea wet church the size of a snail   
      With its horns through mist and the castle   
                  Brown as owls
            But all the gardens
Of spring and summer were blooming in the tall tales   
Beyond the border and under the lark full cloud.   
            There could I marvel
                  My birthday
      Away but the weather turned around.

 

      It turned away from the blithe country
And down the other air and the blue altered sky   
      Streamed again a wonder of summer
                  With apples
            Pears and red currants
And I saw in the turning so clearly a child’s
Forgotten mornings when he walked with his mother   
            Through the parables
                  Of sun light
      And the legends of the green chapels

 

      And the twice told fields of infancy
That his tears burned my cheeks and his heart moved in mine.   
      These were the woods the river and sea
                  Where a boy
            In the listening
Summertime of the dead whispered the truth of his joy   
To the trees and the stones and the fish in the tide.
            And the mystery
                  Sang alive
      Still in the water and singingbirds.

 

      And there could I marvel my birthday
Away but the weather turned around. And the true   
      Joy of the long dead child sang burning
                  In the sun.
            It was my thirtieth
Year to heaven stood there then in the summer noon   
Though the town below lay leaved with October blood.   
            O may my heart’s truth
                  Still be sung
      On this high hill in a year’s turning.
 
 
(by Dylan Thomas).

Also Sprach Zarathustra

Posted in Biographical, Music, Poetry with tags , , , , on September 8, 2009 by telescoper

Today is the 60th anniversary of the death of the great composer Richard Strauss in 1949. I’ve already used up the music which is probably the most appropriate for this occasion, so I thought I’d mark it instead with a clip from the work that is probably most familiar to my likely readership, Also Sprach Zarathustra, as used in the closing stages of Stanley Kubrick’s masterpiece 2001: A Space Odyssey.

This little clip is from the final stages of the film, though the music itself is from the opening segment of the Strauss work, the part that represents the Sunrise.

For people of my age, this music is inextricably linked not only with the film, but also with the TV coverage of the moon landings that happened about the same time as its release, about 40 years ago, and for which it also provided the theme music. I don’t know which came first. I’d love to be able to say that these events are behind what made me become an astrophysicist but, as I’ve explained before, the truth is somewhat different.

Anyway, the theme of transfiguration and rebirth depicted in the movie  seems to me to be one more closely related to Strauss’ earlier work Tod und Verklärung,  and it always makes me think of the following lines from East Coker, the second of the Four Quartets by TS Eliot:

Old men ought to be explorers
Here or there does not matter
We must be still and still moving
Into another intensity
For a further union, a deeper communion
Through the dark cold and the empty desolation,
The wave cry, the wind cry, the vast waters
Of the petrel and the porpoise. In my end is my beginning.

Cosmic Haiku

Posted in Poetry, The Universe and Stuff with tags , , , on September 6, 2009 by telescoper

I haven’t had much time to post today and will probably be too busy next week for anything too substantial, so I thought I’d resort to a bit of audience participation. How about a few Haiku on themes connected to astronomy, cosmology or physics?

Don’t be worried about making the style of your contributions too authentic, just make sure they are 17 syllables in total, and split into three lines of 5, 7 and 5 syllables respectively.

Here’s a few of my own to give you an idea!

Quantum Gravity:
The troublesome double-act
Of Little and Large

Gravity’s waves are
Traceless; which does not mean they
Can never be found

The Big Bang wasn’t
So big, at least not when you
Think in decibels.

Cosmological
Constant and Dark Energy
Are vacuous names

Microwave Background
Photons remember a time
When they were hotter

Isotropic and
Homogeneous metric?
Robertson-Walker

Galaxies evolve
In a complicated way
We don’t understand

Acceleration:
Type Ia Supernovae
Gave us the first clue

Cosmic Inflation
Could have stretched the Universe
And made it flatter

Astrophysicist
Is what I’m told is my Job
Title. Whatever.

Contributions welcome via the comments box. The best one gets a chance to win Bully’s star prize.

The Inductive Detective

Posted in Bad Statistics, Literature, The Universe and Stuff with tags , , , , , , , on September 4, 2009 by telescoper

I was watching an old episode of Sherlock Holmes last night – from the classic  Granada TV series featuring Jeremy Brett’s brilliant (and splendidly camp) portrayal of the eponymous detective. One of the  things that fascinates me about these and other detective stories is how often they use the word “deduction” to describe the logical methods involved in solving a crime.

As a matter of fact, what Holmes generally uses is not really deduction at all, but inference (a process which is predominantly inductive).

In deductive reasoning, one tries to tease out the logical consequences of a premise; the resulting conclusions are, generally speaking, more specific than the premise. “If these are the general rules, what are the consequences for this particular situation?” is the kind of question one can answer using deduction.

The kind of reasoning of reasoning Holmes employs, however, is essentially opposite to this. The  question being answered is of the form: “From a particular set of observations, what can we infer about the more general circumstances that relating to them?”. The following example from a Study in Scarlet is exactly of this type:

From a drop of water a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other.

The word “possibility” makes it clear that no certainty is attached to the actual existence of either the Atlantic or Niagara, but the implication is that observations of (and perhaps experiments on) a single water drop could allow one to infer sufficient of the general properties of water in order to use them to deduce the possible existence of other phenomena. The fundamental process is inductive rather than deductive, although deductions do play a role once general rules have been established.

In the example quoted there is  an inductive step between the water drop and the general physical and chemical properties of water and then a deductive step that shows that these laws could describe the Atlantic Ocean. Deduction involves going from theoretical axioms to observations whereas induction  is the reverse process.

I’m probably labouring this distinction, but the main point of doing so is that a great deal of science is fundamentally inferential and, as a consequence, it entails dealing with inferences (or guesses or conjectures) that are inherently uncertain as to their application to real facts. Dealing with these uncertain aspects requires a more general kind of logic than the  simple Boolean form employed in deductive reasoning. This side of the scientific method is sadly neglected in most approaches to science education.

In physics, the attitude is usually to establish the rules (“the laws of physics”) as axioms (though perhaps giving some experimental justification). Students are then taught to solve problems which generally involve working out particular consequences of these laws. This is all deductive. I’ve got nothing against this as it is what a great deal of theoretical research in physics is actually like, it forms an essential part of the training of an physicist.

However, one of the aims of physics – especially fundamental physics – is to try to establish what the laws of nature actually are from observations of particular outcomes. It would be simplistic to say that this was entirely inductive in character. Sometimes deduction plays an important role in scientific discoveries. For example,  Albert Einstein deduced his Special Theory of Relativity from a postulate that the speed of light was constant for all observers in uniform relative motion. However, the motivation for this entire chain of reasoning arose from previous studies of eletromagnetism which involved a complicated interplay between experiment and theory that eventually led to Maxwell’s equations. Deduction and induction are both involved at some level in a kind of dialectical relationship.

The synthesis of the two approaches requires an evaluation of the evidence the data provides concerning the different theories. This evidence is rarely conclusive, so  a wider range of logical possibilities than “true” or “false” needs to be accommodated. Fortunately, there is a quantitative and logically rigorous way of doing this. It is called Bayesian probability. In this way of reasoning,  the probability (a number between 0 and 1 attached to a hypothesis, model, or anything that can be described as a logical proposition of some sort) represents the extent to which a given set of data supports the given hypothesis.  The calculus of probabilities only reduces to Boolean algebra when the probabilities of all hypothesese involved are either unity (certainly true) or zero (certainly false). In between “true” and “false” there are varying degrees of “uncertain” represented by a number between 0 and 1, i.e. the probability.

Overlooking the importance of inductive reasoning has led to numerous pathological developments that have hindered the growth of science. One example is the widespread and remarkably naive devotion that many scientists have towards the philosophy of the anti-inductivist Karl Popper; his doctrine of falsifiability has led to an unhealthy neglect of  an essential fact of probabilistic reasoning, namely that data can make theories more probable. More generally, the rise of the empiricist philosophical tradition that stems from David Hume (another anti-inductivist) spawned the frequentist conception of probability, with its regrettable legacy of confusion and irrationality.

My own field of cosmology provides the largest-scale illustration of this process in action. Theorists make postulates about the contents of the Universe and the laws that describe it and try to calculate what measurable consequences their ideas might have. Observers make measurements as best they can, but these are inevitably restricted in number and accuracy by technical considerations. Over the years, theoretical cosmologists deductively explored the possible ways Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity could be applied to the cosmos at large. Eventually a family of theoretical models was constructed, each of which could, in principle, describe a universe with the same basic properties as ours. But determining which, if any, of these models applied to the real thing required more detailed data.  For example, observations of the properties of individual galaxies led to the inferred presence of cosmologically important quantities of  dark matter. Inference also played a key role in establishing the existence of dark energy as a major part of the overall energy budget of the Universe. The result is now that we have now arrived at a standard model of cosmology which accounts pretty well for most relevant data.

Nothing is certain, of course, and this model may well turn out to be flawed in important ways. All the best detective stories have twists in which the favoured theory turns out to be wrong. But although the puzzle isn’t exactly solved, we’ve got good reasons for thinking we’re nearer to at least some of the answers than we were 20 years ago.

I think Sherlock Holmes would have approved.