Greening and changing the land

English: Liverwort Liverworts are small plants...
A very British liverwort mat. Image via Wikipedia

Evidence for the earliest colonisation of the continents by plants is in the form of spores and body fragments from terrestrial sediments of Middle Ordovician age (~470 Ma) (Rubinstein, C.  et al. 2010. Early Middle Ordovician evidence for land plants in Argentina (eastern Gondwana). New Phytologist, v. 188, p. 365-369)suggest that the first vegetation cover involved simple ground-hugging plants that lacked stems of roots, very like the liverworts that I struggle to deter from my gravel drive. Vinegar is the only solution, preferably boiling, but that does not harm their spores and inevitably they re-emerge. Rearranging the gravel, of a pale pink limestone, is one of a very few means of keeping fit that I can bear, and I suppose the liverworts spice that up a little: but I do detest them. Part of their irritation is that they form an impermeable coating to what once was a passable if minor aquifer that channelled rainfall that would otherwise repeat the house-flooding that greeted me within a day of my moving in. So it was with some solemnity that I read a paper on how these damnable organisms transformed the Ordovician continental surface and the geomorphological processes that shaped it (Gibling, M.R. & Davies, N.S 2012. Palaeozoic landscapes shaped by plant evolution. Nature Geocience, v. 5, p. 99-105).

Sedimentologists have shown that rivers of earlier times formed wide tracts of ephemeral braided channels that transported and reworked sands and gravels that were not hampered by any vegetable binding agent. Floods merely accelerated the braiding and spread coarse sediment across valley floors, repeated spates washing out almost of the fines to take them ultimately to the continental shelves: there are few if any relics of Cambrian and older muddy floodplains. Moreover, untrammelled by vegetation any remaining fine material would be picked up by wind, even in humid climates, to meet the same marine fate. Overbank deposits of silts and clays, unsurprisingly, demand banks over or through which floodwater  escapes from defined channels and is then delayed by low gradients away from the main flow, so to deposit the fines carried by its sluggish speed. Except in arid terrains where braided channels are still the rule, in succeeding geological time evidence grows for nowadays familiar channels, meanders with point bars and eroded opposite banks, levées and floodplains on every conceivable scale. Apparently, they became conspicuous in Silurian times and then forming 30% of all fluvial sediments by the Devonian.

Meanwhile, plants were diversifying though evolution of vascular systems that transport sap up supporting structures that emerged in parallel eventually to form trunks and branches. The consequent rise in volume and in area exposed to sunlight and photosynthesis of a plant’s tissues increased the potential to draw CO2 from the air, witnessed by changes in carbon isotopes that show carbon burial rising shortly after the mid-Ordovician from far lower values in earlier times. (Incidentally, it seems likely that such meagre colonisers as early liverworts thrived sufficiently to contribute to the cooling in the Upper Ordovician that led to sporadic glacial episodes).  Preservation of wood in peats – liverworts are not implicated in any kind of fossil-fuel production – helped to maximise carbon burial by the end of the Palaeozoic Era. But trees make logs and, carried by rivers, logjams. By the Upper Carboniferous effects of damming become common in fluvial sediments, which seemed to serve the formation of islands within wide river channels.

By the present day, vegetation has come to dominate all but the most arid river systems. Even in central Australia sturdy gums able only to get water from below ephemeral river beds end up defining the flow regime and stabilising it on low relief plains that would otherwise be ravaged by sheet floods every rainy season. The authors support stratigraphic observations through the use of scaled down models of channels in vegetated areas by the cunning use of alfalfa seeded to sprout during simulated dry conditions then resuming channel flow in a flume tank.

Gilboa Fossils - Gilboa, New York
Fossils tree stumps from Gilboa, New York (Photo credit: Dougtone)

The earliest substantial trees, represented by wood fragments rarely assignable to any particular structure, occur in the Middle Devonian (385-400 Ma). Although some groups can be differentiated, how their encompassing woodland ecosystems looked has been a mystery until recently . Being ‘priitive’ it has been assumed to be very simple, unlike the well-documented forests of the Carboniferous coal swamps. But, once in a while, a site of exceptional preservation is unearthed, one such being a palaeosol that clearly formed on the floor of a Middle Devonian woodland exposed by quarrying in New York state, USA (Stein, W.E. et al. 2012. Surprisingly complex community found in the mid-Devonian fossil forest at Gilboa. Nature, v. 483, p. 78-81). Once backfill accumulated during the quarry’s active life was removed it became possible to plot the arrangement of roots systems of the last trees to live at the site before inundation and preservation.  Together with other plant material found in the ancient soil, the growing sites have been reconstructed to assess the full ecosystem involved. It was a great deal more complex than previously thought possible, with a series of tiers formed by three large tree types: tall, lollipop-like Eospermatopteris; smaller lycopsid-like trees and subsurface propagators related to gymnosperms that sprouted to form an understorey that may have climbed the larger trees in the manner of vines. Its setting was akin to that of modern mangrove swamps – by the sea – subject to sea-level change that inundated, killed and preserved the coastal woodland.

Very persistent cycles

Carboniferous shale
Carboniferous shale (Photo credit: tehsma)

The last of five written papers in my 1967 final-year exams was, as always, set by the ‘Prof’.  One question was ‘Rock and rhythm: discuss’ – it was the 60s. Cyclicity has been central to observational geology, especially to stratigraphy, the difference from that era being that rhythms have been quantified and the rock sequences they repeat have been linked to processes, in many cases global ones. The most familiar cyclicity to geologists brought up in Carboniferous coalfields, or indeed any area that preserves Carboniferous marine and terrestrial rocks, is the cyclothem of, roughly, seat-earth – coal – marine shale – fluviatile sandstone – seat-earth and so on. Matched to the duration of Carboniferous to Permian glaciations of the then southern hemisphere, and with the relatively  new realisation that global sea level goes down  and up as ice caps wax and wane, the likeliest explanation is eustatic regression and transgression of marine conditions in coastal areas in response to global climate change. Statistical analysis of cyclothemic sequences unearths frequency patterns that match well those of astronomical climate forcing proved for Pleistocene glacial-interglacial cycles.

The Milankovich signals of the Carboniferous are now part of the geological canon, but rocks of that age more finely layered than sediments of the tropical continental margins do occur. Among them are rhythmic sequences interpreted as lake deposits from high latitudes, akin to varves formed in such environments nowadays. Those from south-western Brazil present spectacular evidence of climate change in the Late Carboniferous and Early Permian (Franco, D.R. et al. 2012. Millennial-scale climate cycles in Permian-Carboniferous rhythmites: Permanent feature throughout geological time. Geology, v. 40, p. 19-22). They comprise couplets of fine-grained grey quartz sandstones from 1-10 cm thick interleaved with black mudstones on a scale of millimetres, which together build up around 45 m of sediment. Their remanent magnetism and magnetic susceptibility vary systematically with the two components. Frequency analysis of plots of both against depth in the sequence show clear signs of regular repetitions. Low-frequency peaks reveal the now well-known influence of astronomical forcing of Upper Palaeozoic climate, but it is in the lower amplitude, higher frequency part of the magnetic spectrum that surprises emerge from a variety of peaks. They are reminiscent of the Dansgaard-Oeschger events of the last Pleistocene glacial, marked by sudden warming and slow cooling while world climate cooled towards the last glacial maximum (~1.5 ka cyclicity) and Heinrich events, the ‘iceberg armadas’ that occurred on a less regular 3 to 8 ka basis. There are also signs of the 2.4 ka solar cycle. The relatively brief cycles would have been due to events in a very different continental configuration from today’s – that of the supercontinent Pangaea – and their very presence suggests a more general global influence over short-term climate shifts that has been around for 300 Ma or more.

OSTM/Jason-2's predecessor TOPEX/Poseidon caug...
El Niño effect on sea -surface temperatures in the eastern Pacific Ocean. Image via Wikipedia

Closer to us in time, and on a much finer time scale are almost 100 m of finely laminated shales from the marine Late Cretaceous of California’s Great Valley (Davies, A. et al. 2012. El Niño-Southern Oscillation variability from the late Cretaceous Marca Shale of California. Geology, v. 40, p. 15-18). The laminations contain fossil diatoms: organisms that are highly sensitive to environmental conditions and whose species are easily distinguished from each other. It emerges from studies of the diatoms in each lamination set that they record an annual cycle of seasonal change related to marine upwellings and their varying strengths, with repeated evidence for influx of fine sediment derived from land above sea level and for varying degrees of bioturbation that suggests periods of oxygenation. Spectral analysis of the intensity of bioturbation, which assumes the lamina are annual, and other fluctuating features reveals peaks that are remarkably close to those of the ENSO cyclicity that operates at present, at 2.1-2.8 and 4.1-6.3 a, as well as repetitions with a decadal frequency.

The annual cycles bear similar hallmarks to those imposed by the monsoonal conditions familiar from modern California, which fluctuated in the Late Cretaceous in much the same way as it does now – roughly speaking, alternating El Niño and La Niña conditions. That is not so surprising, as the relationship between California and the Pacific Ocean in the Cretaceous would not have been dissimilar from that now. The real importance of the study is that it concerns a period in Earth’s climate history characterised by greenhouse conditions, that some predict would create a permanent El Niño – an abnormal warming of surface ocean waters in the eastern tropical Pacific that prevents the cold Humboldt Current along the Andean coast of South America from supplying nutrient to tropical waters. The very cyclicity recorded by the Marca Shale strongly suggests that the ENSO is a stable feature of the western Americas. Recent clear implications of ENSO having teleconnections that affect global climate, on this evidence, may not break down with anthropogenic global warming. This confirms similar studies from the Palaeogene and Neogene Periods.

Time wars flare up again

English: A diagram of the geological time scal...
Time's spiral Image via Wikipedia

Last year Earth Pages News reported a rationalisation of the way in which geological time is signified (Rationalising geological time 7 May 2011). A working group set up by the International Union of Pure and Applied Chemistry (IUPAC) and the International Union of Geological Sciences (IUGS) defined the year as the base unit, standardizing it to the time in seconds between one solstice and the next at the equator for year 2000 (3.1556925445 × 107 s) thereby linking it to the Système international d’unités or SI base unit of the second, itself defined in terms of behaviour of the caesium atom. It is to be signified by ‘a’ for annus (year in Latin) and preceded by ‘k’, ‘M’ and ‘G’  for thousands, millions and billion years, complying with the SI progression in steps of 103 for units.

The sticking point for some, mainly in the US (e.g. Science magazine and many geoscientists there) is that the ka, Ma, Ga symbols are to apply not only to times before the present but also to spans of geological time. Since the agreed convention is incorporated into SI it has almost the force of law for scientists , so that the Cretaceous Period will be said to have begun at 145.5±4.0 Ma ago, ended at 65.5±0.3 Ma ago and was 80 Ma long, instead of the latter being in m.y., m.yr., mya  or Myr according to what seem to have been personal quirks or those of scientific journals.

Somewhat florid reaction against the rationalisation (Christie-Blick, N. 2012 Geological time conventions and symbols. GSA Today, v. 22 (February 2012 issue), p. 28) seems to have flowed from a deliberation on the IUPAC-IUGS proposal (in Prague, Spring 2010) by a lesser world body: the International Commission on Stratigraphy’s  (ICS) International Subcommission on Stratigraphic Classification (ISSC). The meeting voted 16 to 2 to reject the proposal – a substantial number of voting members abstained – claiming that it violated SI ‘rules’ regarding base- and derived units. The issue, on reaching the ICS meeting, as the same Prague workshop, seems to have been greeted by a 50:50 split. A closed meeting of the ICS Bureau (now we can begin to see the kind of thinking involved here…) on the workshop’s last day unanimously adopted the motion ‘We neither accept nor reject the IUGS-IUPAC Task Group’s recommendation to apply Ma, generally, as the unit of deep time. We accept the argument for Ma as a single unit for time but would recommend flexibility, allowing for the retention of Ma as specific notation for points in time (i.e., dates) and myr as a unit of time denoting duration. We agree with the spirit of this statement’ [my italics]. ‘Neither accepting nor rejecting’ is something familiar from minutes of the Central Committee of the former USSR, being rumoured to have been Joseph Vissarionovich Stalin’s favoured formulation in moments of uncertainty: a little like the old ‘Belfast Question’, ‘Are you for us or against us’ from someone whose politics is not entirely clear.

An argument proffered by Christie-Blick is, ‘No one objects to the storming of the Bastille on 14 July 1789 (a date) or to the construction of Stonehenge from 2600–1600 BC (an interval specified by two dates). In the case of the latter, we say that the job took 1000 years, not 1000 BC.’ This forgets something quite practical: geochronologist rarely if ever, ‘neither accept nor reject’ AD, BC BCE, or CE but express time in years before present, with the odd convention that ‘the present’ was 1950, before atmospheric testing of thermonuclear devices. What is wrong with the answer to the question, ‘When did the Cretaceous begin?’ being 145.5 Ma ago, or ‘80 Ma’ in answer to, ‘How long did it last?’ Who would prefer the alternative to the second question –  80 (choose your preferred symbol from the following: m.y., m.yr., mya.  Myr., million years or millions of years)?

Geophysics reveals secrets of the beaver

Beaver Hut
Beaver lodge and dam (Photo credit: Bemep)

One of the interesting things about the beaver is that its obsession with civil engineering may have a profound effect upon landscape. Before Europeans set foot in North America, it is estimated that up to 400 million of them inhabited the continent. The ponds that they create by building the dams in which they live securely, encourage sedimentation. It is quite possible that this creates recognisable stratigraphic formations; but no-one really knows as active and wet beaver habitats hide what lies beneath them. It is clearly urgent to obtain this intelligence: the Geological Society of America’s monthly Geology contained in its first issue for 2012 a paper that indeed probes the legacy of large rodents long gone (Kramer, N. et al. 2012. Using ground penetrating radar to ‘unearth’ buried beaver dams. Geology, v. 40, p. 43-46).

The target for surveillance was the eponymous Beaver Meadows in Colorado, USA, and not only did the researchers from Colorado State University deploy ground-penetrating radar, but used the seismic reflection method as well, to quantify volumes of beaver-induced sedimentation. Fortunately, despite their past presence in some strength, beavers no longer frequent Beaver Meadows and no ethical lines in the sand were crossed. Beaver and elk seemingly have long competed for the meagre resources of Beaver Meadows, the rodent having finally succumbed locally to determined efforts by the elk to consume the beavers’ victuals. As disconcerted and no doubt sulking beavers failed to maintain their dams and lodges, the water table fell, further encouraging the elk. Eventually, at some time after the Beaver Survey of 1947, the last of them moved to new meadows. Their ravages (see http://animal.discovery.com/videos/fooled-by-nature-beaver-dams.html) of what would otherwise be dense woodland have, however, made it possible for geophysicists to try out their sophisticated kit on a new and thorny issue: they ran 6 km of GPR and seismic profiles.

I came across this handsome animal (Castor can...
A beaver. Image via Wikipedia

In much the same way as larger scale geophysical data are interpreted for petroleum traps, signs of hydrocarbons, mighty listric faults and zones of tectonic inversion, the beaver-oriented sections potentially yield considerable insight to the trained eye. There are indeed beaverine sedimentary aggradations of Holocene age above the local glacial tills. Beneath Beaver Meadow they amount to as much as 50% of post-glacial sediment. Apparently, the deposits have a linear element that follows the local drainages.

Petrologists probe Minoan collapse

Partial panorama of Santorini and Thera caldera
Modern Santorini and the drowned Thera caldera. Image via Wikipedia

A burning topic for Bronze Age archaeologists, such as the delightful  Bettany Hughes – biographer of Helen of Troy, is the explosive collapse of the volcano Thera (modern Santorini) whose distant effects (ash and tsunamis)wiped out the Minoan civilisation of Crete around 1600 BCE, giving rise to Plato’s legend of Atlantis. It was a big one alright, hurling of the order of 60 km3 of pulverised magma skywards, though not the largest historic eruption: that involved 160 km3 from the Tambora volcano on Indonesia’s island of Sumbawa in 1815. The inhabitants of Santorini simply disappeared, after evacuating their homes during precursor earthquakes and small eruptions, which were then buried beneath many metres of tephra when Thera literally ‘blew its top’. Little ash fell on Crete, yet its northern coast shows clear signs of a major tsunami. The reason for such an engulfing wave is revealed by the nature of Thera’s eruption: after evacuating magma, the edifice collapsed to form a caldera clearly revealed by the elliptical bay around which the remnants stand as the various islands of Santorini.  Caldera formation would have displaced vast amounts of sea water.

Santorini has been well studied by volcanologists, still being an astonishingly awesome spectacle as well as preserving the full record of the eruption and the archaeology that it buried (http://santorini-eruption.org.uk/). Empirical research reveals four distinct eruptive phases probably over a period of a few months. The explosive force of the final catastrophe probably resulted from seawater reaching the sub-volcanic magma chamber: not a difficult feat of imagination. What has not been known is how the magma evolved over times leading up to the cataclysm, and that is a knotty issue for all volcanoes that pose a major threat because of evidence for repeated and perhaps cyclic activity. A new technique is now capable of lifting the veil on such purely magmatic evolution, and is based on the changes that took place in minerals that crystallised over lengthy periods while the magma cooled slowly at depth but was periodically added to (Druitt, T.H et al. 2012. Decadal to monthly timescale of magma transfer and reservoir growth at a caldera volcano. Nature, v. 482, p. 77-80).

Such phenocrysts are commonly found in fragments of pumice that make up Theran tephra, and they are commonly zoned in a concentric fashion, especially those of the mineral feldspar, each zone marking a phase of growth that occasionally traps samples of magma in the form of now glassy inclusions. The zones mark chemical changes in the magma as new pulses are added in the sub-volcanic chamber, and sometimes temperature changes and loss of gas. Although the zone boundaries a are expected to be sharp in terms of chemical differences, in practice they are blurred as a result of element diffusion at high temperatures. Diffusion is a predictable process and so the degree of blurring indicates the time at which a new zone formed relative to that of eruption and cooling, when diffusion would have stopped abruptly. Rates of high-temperature diffusion depend on the element concerned. So using a suite of trace elements in feldspar zones gives a variety of chronometers. A fast-diffusing element such as Mg can chart changes of the order of decades to months, while a more sluggish trace element – for instance titanium – can examine changes on longer timescales.

The results obtained by the authors present a surprise: although Thera had last erupted catastrophically 18 ka previously, additional magma recharged the volcano only in the last few decades before it extinguished life on Santorini and set the Minoan civilisation on a downward spiral. Indeed, magma continued to be added even in the last few months. Calderas, such as that at Yellowstone in the western US, to which are linked ancient ash layers covering areas hundreds and thousands of kilometres away, pose threats as large and even bigger than Thera. If Thera is anything to go by, they lie in repose long after an eruption and signs of recharge may herald eruption in the near future. The Yellowstone caldera, that has lain dormant for 640 ka is indeed showing signs of magmatic ‘stoking’, as the Earth’s surface there is slowly bulging. It produced ‘supereruptions’ that dwarfed Thera at 2.1 Ma (2500 km3), 1.3 Ma (280 km3) and 0.6 ka (1000 km3). For each of these and several other calderas there are abundant tuffs that carry phenocrysts, whose zonation is yet to be checked for signs of past behaviour by their local magma chambers.

Late Devonian: mass extinction or mass invasion?

A hand made lookalike for User:Dragons flight'...
Image via Wikipedia

The later part of the Devonian (the Frasnian and Famennian Stages) once marked the second largest marine mass extinction (~375 Ma) of the Phanerozoic Eon: it was one of the ‘Big Five’. For the last decade the drop in marine biodiversity in that interval has come under scrutiny: partly because it may have involved several  events;  no well-supported extinction mechanism has emerged; and extinctions seem have been concentrated on three animal groups – trilobites, brachiopods and reef corals. Something large did happen, as reef-building corals almost disappeared and coral reefs only returned with the rise of modern (scleractinian) corals in the Mesozoic. While the end of the Devonian still figures widely as having experienced a mass extinction event, more detailed palaeontological work at the genus and species level suggests another possibility.

‘Officially’ a mass extinction event must exceed the background extinction rate throughout the Phanerozoic and be above that in immediately preceding and following stages: statistically significant, that is. They always give rise to a marked reduction in biodiversity, but another mechanism can do that without extinctions suddenly increasing. The rate at which new species emerge can fall below that of species extinctions, when the overall number of living species falls. As far as ecosystems are concerned both processes are equally severe, but the causes may be very different.

Hederelloids encrusting a Spiriferida brachiop...
Brachiopod from the Devonian of Ohio, USA. Image via Wikipedia

Reviewing detailed records of Devonian species of two genera of brachiopods and one bivalve genus (50 species in all) in five North American stratigraphic sequences, Alycia Stigall of Ohio University, USA noted apparently significant variations in the local assemblages (Stigall, A. L. 2012. Speciation collapse and invasive species dynamics during the Late Devonian ‘Mass Extinction’. GSA Today, v. 22(1), p. 4-9). Speciation overall fell in the Frasnian and the preceding Givetian, while rate of extinction barely changed. For the three studied genera ,speciation reached low values in the Frasnian and Famennian, but that was accompanied by an equally large fall in extinctions. In this narrow sample we seem to be seeing not an extinction crisis but one of biodiversity. Why?

The Late Devonian saw repeated ups and downs in sea level, which repeatedly connected and disconnected shallow- to moderate-depth marine basins. The fossil record shows repeated cases of species from one basin colonising another, each invasion accompanying rapid marine transgression.. One means whereby species arise is through prolonged isolation of separate populations of the ancestral species through independent genetic drift and mutation. The episodic connection of basins may have prevented such allopatric speciation. Interestingly, the invading species  were dominantly animals with a broad tolerance for environmental conditions.

Whether this mechanism applied to all three main animal groups whose diversity plummeted in Late Devonian times remains to be seen, and it begs the question ‘why didn’t it happen among other animal groups that were less affected by whatever the events were?’ One of the problems associated with decreasing biodiversity in modern marine (and terrestrial) settings is growth in the numbers of invasive species, so the work on 375 Ma fossils might help understand and mitigate current ecological issues. The only difference is that for many of the hyper-successful invader species the means of invasion has been provided by human activities. brachiopod brachioopod

Research misconduct

whistleblowerIn 2011 there was a growing trickle of news about various kinds of research malpractice: data fabrication, falsification and obfuscation (not reporting adverse outcomes); plagiarism (http://earth-pages.co.uk/2008/01/01/watch-out-burglars-about/) ; repeated publication of data, text and diagrams (self-plagiarism); ‘guest’ contributors; plus other kinds of scientific fraud and chicanery (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Scientific_misconduct). Motives are many, from malice to laziness, but more often than not are a mixture of ambition, greed, jealousy, desperation and paranoia that increasingly form the downside of academic life – not the least in science. Life is so hard in a career dominated by promotion, which in academe rests on: publication lists; peer citations; journal impact factors; institutional income generation and, let’s face it, by the kind of individual self-regard and hubris that drives people to seek fame and celebrity. The wider population has grown accustomed to this as bystanders watching Big Brother, the X-Factor and Fame Academy.

Fiddling research has reached such a level as to provoke the world’s most prestigious research outlet, Nature, to include an editorial on the topic (Editorial 19 January 2012. Face up to fraud. Nature, v. 481, p. 237-238), albeit after a first lead about the Antarctic Treaty at the centenary of the race to the South Pole, and followed by a puff for articles in the same issue on how to get research funding from the public or philanthropists.

As many scientists suspect, in fact what does emerge about research malpractice is the tip of the proverbial iceberg, some admitting to wandering from the path of righteousness themselves (but not saying how or where). One mild form is making unsubstantiated claims: a great many geologists (including me) have trodden very thin ice in this regard (unless they wisely included the ‘Get Out of Jail’ verb ‘to speculate’), but few innocent bystanders, if any, have met a horrid fate as a result of resultant health and safety ‘issues’. A great deal that should not does get through peer-review to enter the canon of whichever discipline. Academic fraud is a quasi-crime with few risks of detection, though punishment can be swingeing,  in the manner of being cast into the ‘dark place’.

According to Nature, what makes Britain seem to be a haven of academic honesty is the risk that both journals and ‘whistleblowers’ face from libel laws, should deeds and authors be named and linked. Moreover, certain kinds of gross malpractice never reach peer-reviewed publication. Examples are: malicious falsification of someone else’s data by a perpetrator with access to the data on, say, a lab server; swapping analytical sample labels; destroying lab records(http://earth-pages.co.uk/2010/11/04/sabotage-in-science-4/); petty theft of ideas (on which there is no formal copyright), for instance through copying poster presentations at conferences; misuse of peer-review privileges – generally anonymous (http://earth-pages.co.uk/2006/08/01/anonymous-referees-2/); menacing a presenter at a conference or disrupting their presentation. Victims of such actions rarely have any redress, unless the perpetrator is actually caught ‘in flagrante delicto’, so to speak (http://earth-pages.co.uk/2010/11/04/sabotage-in-science-4/).

Whistle blowers’ or complainants then face the defensive mechanisms of the academic world: not dissimilar to those of the musk ox. How far you get as regards redress depends to a large extent on the seniority of the perpetrator. An extremely brave friend cited, with abundant evidence, his vice-chancellor for gross cronyism: he was soon ‘on the cobbles’ with the VC (male) remaining ‘virgo intacto. Yet an Industrial Tribunal took a very dim view of the whole affair: my pal paid off his mortgage and lives well in retirement from the compensation awarded by the tribunal. It takes an exceptionally brave graduate student to take on their supervisor(s) for malfeasance (or even the lesser misfeasance and nonfeasance – http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Misfeasance). The likely best outcome (after long and harrowing procedures) is a kind of bribe – more time to complete – but most victims just disappear without completing. Unless the perpetrators are low on the academic scale (they might get a reprimand at worst), promotion to management or enhanced early retirement is a common response by senior management to mounds of incontrovertible evidence of guilt. The oddest fate for someone flying high in the institutional firmament was rumoured to be a posting to a far-flung outpost of the former British Empire: but I digress…

The geosciences seem immune to research malpractice, which may reflect at best the small numbers involved in the discipline or at worst because no-one notices, or cares for that matter. Unless, that is, dear reader, you know different…  Most important, for graduate students who are the most usual victims: protect yourselves (http://earth-pages.co.uk/2003/12/01/protecting-your-intellectual-property-2/).

Dust: heating or cooling?

In the left image, thin martian clouds are vis...
Mars: with and without dust storms in 2001. Image via Wikipedia

Once every 13 years on average dust blots out most of the surface of Mars turning it into an orange ball. The last such planet-encircling dust storm occurred in 2001, but lesser storms spring up on a seasonal basis. Yet Martian seasons have very different weather from terrestrial ones because of the greater eccentricity of Mars’s orbit, as well as the fact that its ‘weather’ doesn’t involve water. When Mars is closest to the Sun solar heating is 20% greater than the average, for both hemispheres. The approach to that perihelion marks the start of the dust season which last a half the Martian year. Unsurprisingly, the sedimentary process that dominates Mars nowadays is the whipping up and deposition of sand and dust, though in the distant past catastrophic floods – probably when subsurface ice melted – sculpted a volcanic landscape pockmarked with impact craters up to several thousand kilometres across. Waterlain sediments on early Mars filled, at least in part, many of the earlier craters and probably blanketed the bulk of its northern hemisphere that is the lowest part of the planet and now devoid of large craters. Erosion and sedimentation since that eventful first billion years has largely been aeolian. Some areas having spectacular dunes of many shapes and sizes, whereas more rugged surfaces show streamlined linear ridges, or yardangs (http://earth-pages.co.uk/2011/05/08/winds-of-change/), formed by sand blasting. Most of the dust on Mars is raised by high winds in the thin atmosphere sweeping the great plains and basins, and, by virtue of Stokes’s law, the grains are very much smaller than on Earth.

The dustiest times on Earth, which might have blotted out sizeable areas from alien astronomers, in the last million years have been glacial maxima, roughly every 100 ka with the latest 20 ka ago. Layering in the Antarctic ice core records such dust-dominated frigid periods very precisely. Less intricate records formed away from the maximum extent of ice sheets as layers of fine sediment known as loess, whose thickness variations match other proxy records of palaeoclimate nicely. Loess, either in place or redeposited in alluvium by rivers, forms the most fertile soil known – when the climate is warm and moist. The vast cereal production of lowland China and the prairies of North America coincides with loess: it may seem strange but a large proportion of 7 billion living humans survive partly because of dust storms during glacial periods of the past.

Being derived from rock-forming minerals dust carries with it a diverse range of chemical elements, including a critical nutrient common on land but in short supply in ocean water far offshore: iron in the form of oxide and hydroxide coatings on dust particles – the dust coating your car after rain often has a yellow or pinkish hue because of its iron content. Even when the well-known ‘fertilizer’ elements potassium, nitrogen and phosphorus are abundant in surface ocean water, they can not encourage algal phytoplankton to multiply without iron. Today the most remote parts of the oceans have little living in their surface layers because of this iron deficiency. Yet oceanographers and climatologists are pretty sure that this wasn’t always the case. They are confident simply because reducing the amount of atmospheric carbon dioxide and its greenhouse effect to levels that would encourage climate cooling and glacial epochs needed more carbon to be buried on the ocean floors than happens nowadays, and lifeless ocean centres would not help in that.

Dust plume off the Sahara desert over the nort...
Saharan dust carried over the Atlantic Ocean by a tropical cyclone. Image via Wikipedia

At present, the greatest source of atmospheric dust is the Sahara Desert (bartholoet, J. 2012. Swept from Africa to the Sahara. Scientific American, v. 306 (February 2012), p. 34-39). Largely derived from palaeolakes dating from a Holocene pluvial episode, Saharan dust accounts for more than half the two billion metric tonnes of particulate atmospheric aerosols dispersed over the Earth each year. Located in the SE trade-wind belt, the Sahara vents dust clouds across the Atlantic Ocean, most to fall there and contribute dissolved material to the mid-ocean near-surface biome but an estimated 40 million t reaches the Amazon basin, contributing to fertilising the otherwise highly leached tropical rain-forest soils. While over the ocean the high albedo of dust adds a cooling effect to the otherwise absorbent sea surface. Over land the fine particles help nucleate water droplets in clouds and hence encourages rainfall. The climatic functions of clouds and dusts are probably the least known factors in the climatic system, a mere 5% uncertainty in their climatic forcing may mean the difference between unremitting global warming ahead or sufficient cooling by reflection of solar radiation to compensate for the cumulative effects of industrial CO2 emissions.

Recording amounts of dust from marine sediments quantitatively is very difficult and impossible in terrestrial sediments, but superb records tied accurately to time at annual precision exist in ice sheets. Low dust levels in Greenland and Antarctic ice tally well with the so-called ‘Medieval Climate Anomaly’ (a warm period) whereas through the 13th to 19th centuries (the ‘Little Ice Age’) more dust than average circulated in the atmosphere. Crucially, for climate change in the industrial era, there has been a massive spike in dust reaching near-polar latitudes since the close of the 18th century during the period associated with signs of global warming: a counterintuitive relationship, but one that is difficult to interpret. The additional dust may well be a result of massive changes in land use across the planet following industrialised agricultural practices and growing population. There are several  questions: does the additional dust also reflect global warming with which it is correlated, i.e. evaporation of the huge former lakes in the Sahara (e.g. Lake Chad); is the dust preventing additional greenhouse warming that would have taken place had the atmosphere been clearer; is it even the ‘wrong kind of dust’, which may well reflect short-wave solar radiation away but also absorbs the longer wavelength thermal radiation emitted by the Earth’s surface, i.e. an aerosol form of greenhouse warming. Needless to say, neither clouds nor dust can be factored into climate prediction models with much confidence.

Within-plate earthquakes

 

 

English: Earthquakes recorded in the New Madri...
Recent earthquakes in the US mid-west around New Madrid Missouri. Image via Wikipedia

 

Almost all devastating earthquakes within living memory and the tsunamis that ensued from some of them have occurred where tectonic plates meet and move past one another either horizontally through strike-slip motion or vertically as a result of subduction. This link between real events and the central theory of global dynamics gives an impression of inherent predictability about where damaging and deadly earthquakes might happen, if not the more useful matter of when the lithosphere might rupture. Such confidence is potentially highly dangerous: the most deadly earthquake in recorded history killed at least 800 thousand people in China’s Shanxi Province in 1556 when according to  a description written shortly afterwards, ‘… various misfortunes took place… In some places, the ground suddenly rose up and formed new hills, or it sank abruptly and became new valleys. In other areas, a stream burst out in an instant, or the ground broke and new gullies appeared…’. Shanxi is far from any plate boundary. A study of Chinese historic records covering the last two millennia (Liu, M. et al. 2011. 2000 years of migrating earthquakes in North China: How earthquakes in midcontinents differ from those at plate boundaries. Lithosphere, v. 3, p. 128-132) shows a pattern to the position of large intraplate events.  Rather than occurring along lines as do those at plate boundaries, earthquakes ‘hopped’ from place to place without affecting the same areas twice. Liu and colleagues consider this almost random pattern to result from reactivation of interlinked faults through broad-scale and gradual tectonic loading of the crust by far off plate movements. After a short period of reactivation one fault locks so that energy build-up is eventually released by another in the plexus of crustal weaknesses.

The best studied site of such intraplate seismicity lies midway along the Mississippi valley in the mid-US, between St Louis and Memphis. In 1811 and 1812 four Magnitude 7 to 8 earthquakes struck, the most affected place being the small township of New Madrid on the banks of the great river where mud and sand spouted from numerous sediment volcanoes. No-one died there but tremors were felt over a million square kilometers, bells ringing spontaneously as far away as Boston and Toronto. It is now known that this section of the Mississippi basin lies above a graben that affects the ancient basement beneath the alluvial sediments, one of whose faults was reactivated, perhaps in an analogous way to the hypothesis about Chinese seismicity. A coauthor in Liu et al. (2011), Seth Stein of Northwestern University, Illinois, believes stress redistribution through a Mid-western fault network was responsible and other events are likely at some uncertain time in the future on this and other areas underpinned by ancient fault complexes. Indeed sporadic ‘quakes up to Magnitude 7 have affected the eastern US and Canada and the Atlantic seaboard since European settlement. But since the largest of the New Madrid quartet of earthquakes, populations have grown across the likely areas of tenuous risk and future ones could have extremely serious consequences for which it is difficult to plan by virtue of unpredictability of both place and timing: in some respects a more worrying prospect than is the case where major events are inevitable – sometime – as along the San Andreas Fault. There are few, if any, major conurbations worldwide that could be considered seismically safe if the theory of networked stress redistribution through otherwise inert parts of continental crust is borne out.

In some respects the theory is a small-scale version of the suggested mechanical linkage through all major plate boundaries that has been suggested by some to account for the clustering in time of great earthquakes – around and above Magnitude 8 – around the globe. Since 2000 great earthquakes have occurred on subduction zones beneath Sumatra, the Himalaya, the Andes, Central America, Alaska, New Guinea, the mid-Pacific, Japan and the Kurile islands, on the strike-slip system that cuts New Zealand and in the intraplate setting of the 2008 Sichuan earthquake in China. Almost all plate boundaries link up globally, but although it seems likely that stress is redistributed along boundaries, especially between adjacent segments, as documented for the great Anatolian fault system of Turkey and the Indonesian subduction zone, a mechanism that transmits stress beyond individual plates seems unlikely.

Massive event in the Precambrian carbon cycle

English: Cyanobacteria
Cyanobacteria: earliest producers of oxygen in the Precambrian. Image via Wikipedia

The entire eukaryote domain of life, from alga to trees and fungi to animals, would not exist had it not been for the emergence of free oxygen in the oceans and atmosphere about 2.4 billion years ago; thanks in large part to the very much simpler photosynthetic blue-green bacteria. The chemistry behind this boils down to organisms being able to transfer electrons from elements and compounds in the inorganic world to build organic molecules incorporated in living things. Having lost electrons the inorganic donors become oxidised, for instance ferrous iron (Fe2+ or Fe-2) becomes ferric iron (Fe3+ or Fe-3) and  sulfide ions (S2-) become sulfate (SO42-) and the organic products that receive electrons principally involve reduction of carbon, on the OilRig principal – Oxidation involves loss of electrons, Reduction involves gain. Since the Great Oxygenation Event (GOE), ferric iron and sulfate ions now account for 75% of oxidation of the lithosphere and hydrosphere while free oxygen (O2) is a mere 2-3 % (Hayes, J.M. 2011. Earth’s redox history. Science. V. 334, p. 1654-1655; an excellent introduction to the geochemistry involved in the GOE and the carbon cycle). Free oxygen is around today only because more of it is produced than is consumed by its acting to oxidize ferrous iron and sulfide ions supplied mainly by volcanism, and carbon-rich material exposed to surface processes by erosion and sediment transport.

Eukaryote life has never been snuffed out for the last two billion years or so, but it has certainly had its ups and downs. To geochemists taking the long view oxygen might well seem to have steadily risen, but that is hardly likely in the hugely varied chemical factory that constitutes Earth’s surface environments, involving major geochemical cycles for carbon, iron, sulfur, nitrogen, phosphorus and so on, that all inveigle oxygen into reactions. Tabs can be kept on one of these cycles – that involving carbon – through the way in which the proportions of its stable isotopes vary in natural systems. If all geochemistry was in balance all the time, all materials that contain carbon would show the same proportions of 13C and 12C as the whole  Earth, but that is never the case. Living processes that fix carbon in organic compounds favour the lighter isotope, so they show a deficit of 13C relative to 12C signified by negative values of δ13C. The source of the carbon, for instance CO2 dissolved in sea water, thereby becomes enriched in 13C to achieve a positive value of δ13C, which may then be preserved in the form of carbonates in, for instance, fossil shells that ended up in limestones formed at the same time as organic processes were favouring the lighter isotope of carbon. Any organic carbon compounds that ocean-floor mud buried before they decayed (became oxidised) conversely would add their negative δ13C to the sediment. Searching for δ13C anomalies in limestones and carbonaceous mudrocks has become a major means of charting life’s ups and downs, and also what has happened to buried organic carbon through geological time.

A most interesting time to examine C-isotopes and the carbon cycle is undoubtedly the period immediately following the GOE, in the Palaeoproterozoic Era (2500 to 1600 Ma). From around 2200 to 2060 Ma the general picture is roughly constant, high positive values of δ13C (~+10‰): more organic carbon was being buried than was being oxidised to CO2. However, in drill cores through the Palaeoproterozoic of NW Russia carbonate carbon undergoes a sharp decline in its heavy isotope to give a negative δ13C  (~-14‰) while carbon in organic-rich sediments falls too (to~-40‰): definitely against the general  trend (Kump, L.R. et al. 2011. Isotopic evidence for massive oxidation of organic matter following the Great Oxidation Event. Science. V. 334, p. 1694-1696). Oxygen isotopes in the carbonates affected by the depletion in ‘heavy’ carbon show barely a flicker of change: a clear sign that the 13C δ13C deficit is not due to later alteration by hydrothermal fluids, as can sometimes cause deviant δ13C in limestones. It is more likely that a vast amount of organic carbon, buried in sediments or dissolved in seawater was oxidised to CO2 faster than biological activity was supplying dead material to be buried or dissolved. In turn, the overproduction of carbon dioxide dissolved in seawater to affect C-isotopes in limestones. Such an event would have entailed a sharp increase in oxygen production to levels capable of causing the oxidation (~ 1% of present levels). Yet this was not the time of the GOE (2400 Ma) but 300-400 Ma later. A possible explanation is a burst in oxygen production by more photosynthetic activity, perhaps by the evolution of chloroplast-bearing eukaryotes much larger than cyanobacteria.