When did Tibet rise?

As plateaux go, that forming Tibet is by far the highest and the largest. Sitting at an average elevation above 5 km and spanning about 3500 x 1500 km, it dwarfs the next in the list, the Andean Altiplano (mean elevation 3.8 km). The position of the Tibetan Plateau, ahead of the Indian subcontinent’s northward collision with Eurasia marks it obviously as being of tectonic origin. Some plateaux are possibly buoyed up by underlying thermal anomalies in the mantle (the Colorado Plateau of North America, underpinned by a subducted spreading centre), while others, such as that of northern Ethiopia, result partly from vast outpourings of flood basalts and partly from thermal effects of active mantle plumes and rebound associated with massive crustal extension.

There are two basic models for Tibet. It may have formed as a result of a near doubling of crustal thickness as Indian crust was driven beneath that of Asia, low density of the thickened continental crust acting to buoy up its vast area.  If that is so, then as soon as India collided with Asia, around 40-50 Ma ago, Tibet would have steadily risen and its plateau would have grown in extent. There are however signs of sudden changes in thermal structure, marked by large-scale magmatism of roughly Late Miocene (8-10 Ma) age. That may have been induced by an extraordinary event, the detachment and foundering (delamination) of a large mass of underlying mantle, whose loss resulted in rapid uplift of the whole overlying region. Because Tibet is known to play a central role in the mechanism that drives the South Asian monsoon, assessing the timing of its formation is crucial to understanding the onset of the monsoon and the many phenomena of accelerated weathering and erosion associated with it. Cores from the floor of the Indian Ocean suggest that the monsoon suddenly increased in intensity at around 8 Ma. Both as a sink for carbon dioxide as a result of weathering of the continental crust, and as a means of obstructing and redirecting continental wind patterns, the growth of the Tibetan Plateau and the Himalaya in front of it have been assigned a major role in the decline of global mean temperatures that resulted in northern hemisphere glaciations. So establishing the timing of their formation makes or breaks two major geoscientific hypotheses of recent decades. The key is some form of proxy for past elevations in the area. One such proxy, the stomatal index of plant leaves found in Tibetan sediments of Miocene age, showed that 15 Ma ago the southern Plateau was just as high as today (see When did southern Tibet get so high? in March 2003 EPN). That cast doubt on a later cause of uplift, but remained unconfirmed.

Sediments deposited in lakes that periodically fill Tibet’s many basins form a record that goes back at least 35 Ma. Carbonates in such lacustrine sediments offer a geochemical means of charting changes in elevation (Rowley, D.B. & Currie, B.S. 2006. Palaeo-altimetry of the late Eocene to Miocene Lunpola basin, Central Tibet. Nature, v. 439, p. 677-681). That depends on the proportion of 18O to the lighter 16O isotope of oxygen (δ18O) in carbonate, which is believed to be inherited from rainwater that originally drained into the basins. The higher the elevation at which water falls as rain or snow, the less of the heavier oxygen isotope it contains, so δ18O is a potential means of measuring the evolution of surface elevation. For central Tibet, this shows that the topography was at least 4 km high as early as 35 Ma ago. Results from other basins that span the Tibetan Plateau clearly suggest that 4 km elevation was achieved progressively later from south to north, anging from 40 to 10 Ma ago. So the delamination model for a sudden springing-up of the Plateau seems now to be a less plausible mechanism for the uplift than the simpler model of progressive crustal thickening following the collision of India. That does not entirely rule out an episode of delamination in the Miocene, for which geochemical evidence is fairly convincing. The implication of the new results is that if Tibet has been a major influence over climate, then it was one that developed progressively from the late Eocene.

See also: Mulch, A and Page Chamberlain, C. 2006.  The rise and growth of Tibet. Nature, v. 439, p. 670-671. Kerr, R.A. 2006. An early date for aising the roof of the world. Science, v. 311, p. 758.

Climate change and collapse of early civilisations

About 4200 years ago early civilisations of the Old World underwent decline and collapse. Examples are the Akkadian civilisation in the upper Tigris and Euphrates basins, famed for Hammurabi’s Hanging Gardens of Babylon, the Harappan of the Indus Valley (Mohenjodaro), the phaoronic Old Kingdom and the Minoan of Crete. This period of the Bronze Age has been thought by some to have experienced either massive volcanism – the explosion of Santorini – or even a comet strike. Others have correlated collapses of city states with Biblical events. Whatever happened, its outcome spanned a vast area of western Asia and north-eastern Africa, so another candidate is climatic drying leading to drought and famine. That is perhaps not such a spectacular fate as near-instant environmental upheavals, but probably just as effective for societies dependant on regular agriculture production or, in the case of Crete, on wide-ranging trade.

Detecting climate change is now well established on proxy records of one kind or another, such as those based on isotopes and sedimentation changes from sea-floor sediments and flowstone (speleothem) in caves, and dust records in ice cores. Such time-series from the mid- to late Holocene are increasing in number, with particular interest growing in records from speleothem now that precise age sequences are possible using uranium-series dating. A flowstone record from a cave in northern Italy, has helped link other time series ranging from the North Atlantic floor, in the Middle East and East Africa (Drysdale, R. et al. 2006. Late Holocene drought responsible for the collapse of Old World civilizations is recorded in an Italian cave flowstone. Geology, v. 34, p. 101-104). A team of geochemists ad environmental scientists from Australia, Italy and the UK has shown a remarkable coincidence among these widely different records, centred on 3900-4200 b.p.. From the North Atlantic at high latitudes is an upsurge in fragments deposited by ice rafting, while mean sea-surface temperatures swung downwards. Kilimanjaro ice shows a marked peak in atmospheric dustiness. Carbonate deposition peaked in the Gulf of Oman. Finally, the Italian flowstone shows peaks in d18O, d13C and the magnesium:calcium ratio of its carbonates. The conclusion is a period of climatic cooling and drying that spanned 40 degrees of latitude over a period of several hundred years. This is not the signature likely to have been associated with instantaneous catastrophes. Yet nor is it typical of the episodic climate shifts of the order of a few thousand years, which were now well known features of the last glacial period and the current interglacial. It was certainly sufficiently prolonged and large enough to have wrought havoc on early civilisations, and throughout the Old World it clearly did.

The Digital Earth revolution

Launched in July 2005, Google Earth (earth.google.com) has become familiar to many Earth scientists.  Some, like me, may have needed encouragement to try it out. Whatever, once up and running on a modern PC with Windows 2000 or XP and broadband connection, even the free version of the software that you need to access Google Earth is compelling, even addictive.  It takes no more than a few minutes to realise that it revolutionises teaching of many aspects of Earth science, and will be used too as a top-line research tool by anyone interested in spatial data.

Based primarily on natural-colour images that cover the entire Earth, much at Landsat TM 15-30 m resolution but for some areas using other images that resolve to the order of a couple of metres or better, Google Earth also uses global topographic elevation data. This is where it takes on its revolutionising role.  It is easy to view the surface of any part of the planet in oblique perspective, when all topographic and a great many geological features show up dramatically. It is the ultimate ‘Swiss Hammer’ – mapping the complex geology of the Alps was only possible by viewing exposures in one massif from the vantage point of another. Choosing appropriate zoom factors connects geological features that are on different scales. Design of the database – it is perfectly seamless, except where resolution changes in mostly urban areas – makes it possible  at broadband connection speeds to roam in real time at any scale. This allows you to simulate flight at any altitude and with any downward look angle: ‘grand tours’ to visit all the famous geological sites you have longed for on every continent become simple. The novelty of 3-D simulation also means that there is much to discover.

Sometimes, even in one’s homeland, it is possible to get lost, especially at large scale. By turning on GIS layers for rivers and roads (in many areas populated places, even street names and fast-food outlets show) navigation is made easier. It is the linking of images with other kinds of data that gives Google Earth its potential for research power. Designed as an easy-to-use geographic information system, by purchasing professional versions of some GIS software you can add layers interpreted, almost literally, ‘on the fly’ (Butler, D. 2006. The web-wide world. Nature, v. 439, p. 776-778).

An immediate attraction, both for globe-trotting geoscientists and, more importantly, people engaged in disaster relief, is the way Google Earth makes it easy to become familiar in moderate detail with the terrain that has to be faced. Solving problems of access, assessing where assistance may be most urgently needed is helped enormously by its highly realistic geographic visualisation. Of course, it cuts down the need for very expensive helicopter reconnaissance.  Google Earth has already proved invaluable for assessing the aftermath of the October 2005 earthquake in Kashmir. Google facilitates the mosaicing of new images of disaster areas, such as those struck by Hurricane Katrina, and their incorporation into the Google Earth database (Nourbakhsh, I. 2006. Mapping disaster zones. Nature, v. 439, p. 787-788).

A few people get frightened by some of the highest resolution images that are available – even the lines on tennis courts show up – as if their privacy was being invaded. More seriously, some governments worry about security implications of anyone being able to see intimate details of airfields and ports.  That is silly – at any time the Quickbird or Ikonos satellites can take a snap of any part of the planet at up to 65 cm resolution for anyone who has the cash to pay for its acquisition; most likely intelligence agencies and military strategists. Privacy, at least from several hundred kilometres above, is a thing of the past.  Every geologist would like to get one-metre resolution images of their research areas. If they see something intended to be hidden for one or another reason, they have an obligation to be discrete.

Exactly how does life shape landforms?

The land’s present topography is not just the frontier between the lithosphere and the atmosphere and hydrosphere, but where plants of many different kinds grow. Whether in the form of cyanobacteria, lichens or luxuriant tropical rain forest, vegetation affects weathering, erosion and the deposition of sediments. Animals – leaving out humans – also have some influence, whether they be subterranean rabbits, moles and worms, or heavy-footed beasts that force soils to move downslope. Inevitably life-land interactions affect landforms, although rock-type and active geological processes tend to dominate. Nonetheless, a planet with life ought to show different styles of surface shapes from one that is organically dead. The central issues for geomorphologists is whether or not it is possible to define absolutely the differences, and then to use them as a means of detecting the likely former influence of life on other worlds.

Central to such a venture (Dietrich, W.E. & Perron, J.t. 2006. The search for a topographic signature of life. Nature, v. 439, p. 411-418) is the ability to map in detail the variation of topographic elevation. Digital topographic elevation data is now available for most of the Earth’s land surface at a resolution of between 90 and 30 m, the second only publicly available for the USA, from the groundbreaking Shuttle Radar Topography Mission of 2000. Aerial photography and high-resolution stereoscopic images from satellite such as Quickbird and Ikonos, allow resolution as sharp as a few metres.  Laser scanning from aircraft potentially can even improve that to the scale of a few tens of centimetres, but such high-resolution data are far from global. The planet Mars is now better endowed with elevation data than is our own planet, thanks to photogrammetric instruments carried by ESA’s Mars Express mission, and the shyness of various intelligence agencies to share publicly what they have gleaned from high-altitude aircraft and spy satellites. Nonetheless, it is now possible to analyse elevation data from the entire range of terrestrial biomes to see what signal vegetation has imposed on surface shape. An easy way to visualise that is simple – just use Google Earth (see The Digital Earth revolution above).

Dietrich and Perron review the mathematical approaches to modelling life’s topographic influences, beginning with an equation that relates elevation and time to rates of uplift, erosion and entry of sediment into storage, thereby expressing conservation of mass.  All the variables are themselves governed by a variety of processes, theoretically amenable to quantification, summarised in Dietrich and Perron’s review. In each there will be some potential biotic influence. On Earth there are sufficient landscapes devoid of all but a minute veneer of organisms to assess both end-members clearly. Mars and Venus ought to be good tests.  But, should such a rigorous quantification of lifeless and lively surfaces at a spectrum of scales be achieved, where would we deploy it?

Yet more on the end-Permian extinction

Sequences that reveal the Permian-Triassic boundary continue to receive a great deal of attention, spurred by the seemingly cryptic nature of the conditions that caused up to 90% of all living things to die. Globally, the boundary is marked by a sudden and large fall in the proportion of 13C in carbonates and sedimentary organic matter.  Since the d13C anomaly follows the biotic decline, it is less likely to reflect any cause of the extinction, such as a massive methane release from destabilised gas hydrates and global warming, than an effect of whatever went on.  Joint research by UK, Dutch and US organic geochemists focused on the P/Tr boundary in northern Italy, where it is dominated by shallow-marine carbonates (Sephton, M.A. et al., 2005. Catastrophic soil erosion during the end-Permian biotic crisis. Geology, v. 33, p. 941-944). They analysed the organic compounds preserved in the section, and found that the extinction zone coincides with a major increase in total organic carbon, which is dominated by large amounts of compounds (polysaccharides) that typify soils and leaf litter.  They explain the anomaly as the result of a short period of rapid soil erosion from the terrestrial hinterland of the shallow Late Permian sea.  Since virtually all continental crust had stabilised in the Pangaea supercontinent, tens of millions of years beforehand, such erosion was unlikely have been a result of some sudden tectonic uplift. But it might have been triggered by sudden loss of the vegetation that retards soil erosion on the continental surface. The P/Tr extinction affected both marine and terrestrial organisms, and Sephton et al recognise that their discovery of evidence for soil stripping on a grand scale reflects that unified fate. Acid rain from the massive Siberian continental flood volcanism could well have been the trigger for ill thrift of land vegetation, or maybe removal of stratospheric ozone by release of halogen (chlorine and bromine) compounds let in destructive UV radiation.

Culture and human evolution

Culture in the most general sense that encompasses tools, clothing, habitation and fire has increasingly set humans and their ancestors apart from the rest of the natural world. It might therefore seem that becoming more ‘human’ cushions our line from Darwinian natural selection since we have created our own ‘nature’ and carry it with us. Setting fully modern humans adrift in the environment, without that culture, would undoubtedly result in rapidly extinguishing the species. In that hypothetical context we are far from ‘fit’, in Darwin’s sense. However, the development of humanity’s cultural milieu has itself provided a continually changing, increasingly pervasive artificial set of conditions for natural selection. Culturally, the most dramatic step in human evolution, for which we have tangible evidence, emerged with the explosive appearance of graphic art and a complex ‘toolkit’ around 35 thousand years ago in Europe. That huge advance will undoubtedly be traced back maybe tens of millennia when archaeological finds in Africa and Australia, for instance, are more precisely dated.  Evidence from the DNA in male-carried Y chromosomes indicates that a profound genetic shift occurred around 70 ka, perhaps resulting from a decline in global human numbers to a very small population after the climatic disaster wrought by the explosive eruption of the Toba volcano in Indonesia. That too was a time when fully modern humanity distributed itself more thinly by a decisive exodus from Africa. Some specialists have speculated that the cultural explosion stemmed from that evolutionary ‘bottleneck’.  There are genetic signs of adaptation to cultural practices and selective pressures that accompanied them after the rise of agriculture and settlement (See Has human evolution stopped?, September 2005 issue of EPN). Recent work on the whole human genome gives an inkling that even more pervasive evolutionary changes took place in the last 50 thousand years (Wang, E.T. et al., 2005. Global landscape of recent inferred Darwinian selection for Homo sapiens. Proceedings of the National Academy of Science, www.pnas.org/cgi/doi/10.1073/pnas.0509691102).

Wang and colleagues from the University of California studied the occurrence of single-letter differences in the genetic code (single-nucleotide polymorphisms – SNPs). Scattered across all human chromosomes are about 1.6 million of these SNPs. They appear not to do anything, but can be linked to nearby genes. When natural selection favours a particular mutated variant of a gene, the associated SNPs can be selected as well. The approach used by Wang et al. is a statistical search for pairs of SNPs that occur together more often than could be possible by chance ‘reshuffling’ that occurs from generation to generation. Their analysis suggests that around 1800 genes, a remarkable 7% of the whole genome, have changed over the last 50 thousand years. Interestingly, that is similar to the degree of genetic change in maize since its domestication from its wild ancestor. As well as genes connected to protein metabolism that could have changed as new diets followed the rise of agriculture, some that are involved in brain function have been selected as well.

Although at an early stage, this kind of research confirms that we are indeed still evolving along Darwinian lines, perhaps unwittingly domesticating ourselves. It is easy to assume that ideas, skills and artistic sensibilities are passed on through language and learning and thereby grow and diversify, but in order for any of these to stimulate the deep feelings that they foster suggests that some aspects have become ‘hard-wired’ in all of us. Everyone unconsciously taps their feet to rhythm, can be moved to a vast range of emotions by music, words and visual stimuli, and can ‘sense’ an environment captured, even in abstraction, by a talented artist. They inspire further development. Until around 50 ka human culture, insofar as we can see evidence for it, remained fixed for more than a million years through several species and subspecies of the genus Homo. Appearing between 1.6 and 1.4 Ma ago the bi-face stone axe endured as humanity’s highest known achievement until those very recent times.

See also: Holmes, R. 2005. Civilisation left its mark on our genes. New Scientist, 24/31 December 2005 issue, p. 8.

Earliest tourism in northern Europe

Some years ago British palaeoanthropologists were in a state of high excitement about finds of stone tools, evidence of prolonged human habitation and fragmentary skeletal remains from a sandpit at Boxgrove on England’s southern coast.  They showed the earliest human presence at high latitudes around 400-500 ka. The date of early colonisation has now been pushed back more than half as long before that to 700 ka by finds in a shoreline exposure of riverine sediments on the coast of Suffolk on England’s east coat.  The Cromer Forest Bed of Middle Pleistocene age has been know since Victorian times as a rich source of the flora and fauna from one of the earliest interglacials of the current period of 100 ka climate cyclicity. At that time the North Sea had yet to establish a connection that would eventually separate the British Isles from Europe, and the site at Pakefield would have been the estuary of a now-vanished river system draining the Midlands and Wales.  So far no human bones have turned up in the excavations, which have to be conducted at low tide. But many flint tools pepper the organic-rich sediments (Parrfitt, S.A. et al., 2005. The earliest record of human activity in northern Europe. Nature, v. 438, p. 1008-1012). As with most terrestrial deposits, establishing the age of human occupation posed the greatest difficulty. A careful documentation of magnetic polarity combined with fossils – including distinct voles – and a new technique that relies on assessing the degree of protein degradation in bivalve shells helped tie-down the age precisely.

Around 800 ka human occupation had begun in Spain and the Pakefield site shows that migration northwards of flora and fauna following a glacial epoch was swift, to establish conditions considerable warmer than in the Holocene. It seems that this Mediterranean climate encouraged such northward penetration by humans, most likely during a short period of particular warmth. Long eyed by archaeologists as a potential source of human remains, patience has paid off in the Cromer Forest Beds.  Yet around the world there are many other, equally promising strata or Pleistocene age that have not had such undivided attention for so long, A glance at the distribution of keynote sites for palaeoanthropology shows how narrow the search for human origins and migratory destination has been up to now. Though it is understandable that once finds have been made, funds and scientists cluster where progress is best guaranteed. Very rarely, either a ‘shot in the dark’ pays off or something surprising turns up at a site being excavated for other purposes. Broadening the search may well have high financial and career risks, yet the more discoveries are made at well-trodden sites the greater the likelihood that the full story of human evolution and migration will be revealed by breaking new ground,

See also: Roebroeks, E. 2005. Life on the Costa del Cromer. Nature, v. 438, p.921-922.

Biogeochemical evidence for vegetation change when hominins evolved

A long-held theory that concerns the background to hominin evolution, is that the freeing of hands by bipedalism was triggered by a shift in the ecology of East Africa from forest to more open grassland.  That might well have happened as the Neogene uplift associated with development of the East African Rift transformed the regional wind and rainfall patterns to the way they are today, thereby creating the conditions for the modern savannahs and semi-deserts in the area long associated with human origins.  The lakes of East Africa are ephemeral in the context of Neogene climate change, and so their sediments are not much use in charting long-term shifts in flora.  However, the modern wind systems shift dust and organic particles consistently towards the Gulf of Aden, so sediment cores there potentially provide a continuous record of vegetation change.  That is, if they contain ‘biomarkers’ that distinguish the debris of trees from that of grasses. The first biomarker records from the Gulf of Aden seabed powerfully confirm the notion of vegetation change as a possible driver for hominin evolution (Feakins, S.J. et al., 2005. Biomarker records of late Neogene changes in northeast African vegetation. Geology, v. 33, p. 977-980).

Up to about 3.5 Ma the cores contain plant-derived waxes that are characteristic of trees that use C3 metabolic processes, but thereafter evidence for increasing C4 grasses predominates.  Coinciding with that broad trend is an increase in 13C in soil carbonates on land, which probably reflects increased grassland too.  Although records of hominin diversity before about 3 Ma are scanty, later times saw the rise of several bipedal species, grouped as the powerfully jawed parathropoids and the more daintily chewing members of the lineage that led to modern humans. Detail in those sections of marine core that were used – presumably costs prevented continuous measurements – shows that the carbon-isotopic signals in the waxes varied in harmony with evidence for climate change, so the proportions of savannah and woodland probably shifted quite rapidly.  However, because cold-dry periods have tended to be longer than those which were warm and more humid, savannah would have had more influence over faunas than ephemeral woodland. Fascinating as this empirical relationship between hominin evolution and vegetation change is, what Africa lacks – as indeed does most of the planet – is data that chart accurately how topography has changed with time. Cosmogenic and U-Th/ He apatite thermochronology, on which so much hope and funding have been invested, has proved spectacularly ineffectual compared with careful work on the likely effects of changing landforms.

Helium and how the Earth convects

In the last ten years the new technology of seismic tomography that produces ghostly images of high and low density mantle has convinced many geoscientists that two major dynamic features extend to almost to the core mantle boundary (CMB). Dense, high-velocity zones descend from subduction zones, suggesting that the slabs continue to fall through the entire mantle below the ~700 km maximum depth of the earthquakes that Bennioff and Wadati used to define subduction.  Some hotspots seem to be above diffuse zones of low seismic velocity that are supposed to signify hot, low density plumes that rise from the CMB. An inkling of a grand theory of mantle convection might then be that the descending slabs ruck up the deepest and hottest mantle layers to set them rising as narrow diapirs. Yet, other tomographic features appear to be restricted to the uppermost mantle, less than the 660 km depth of a major discontinuity long considered to be due to a mineral phase change at high pressure. A whole-mantle theory of convective heat transfer should transfer some geochemical trace of an exchange between core and silicate mantle. Osmium isotopes from plume-related magmatism suggest that there might be an exchange, but those of tungsten do not (see: Mantle and core do not mix, February 2004 issue of EPN).  The oldest and perhaps most convincing evidence against whole-mantle convection comes from study of helium in volcanic rocks, neatly reviewed by Francis Albarède (Albarède, F., 2005. Helium feels the heat in Earth’s mantle. Science, v. 310, p. 1777-1778).

Helium is generated by the decay of radioactive uranium and thorium isotopes as alpha particles (4He), which generates much of the Earth’s geothermal heat flow. There should be a close correlation between helium and helium, but at mid-ocean ridges the amount of 4He is only 5% of that expected from the associated heat flow. One explanation for this is that somewhere in the mantle there is a barrier to upward movement of helium, yet is allows heat to pass through: a thermally conductive layer that bars convective mass transfer. Albarède cites recent work that uses the flow of heat and helium through groundwater in an aquifer (Castro, M.C. et al., 2005. 2-D numerical simulations of groundwater flow, heat transfer and 4He transport — implications for the He terrestrial budget and the mantle helium–heat imbalance. Earth and Planetary Science Letters, v. 237, p. 893-910) as analogy of mantle processes. There too helium is less than might be expected, the reason being that the aquifer is recharged by rainwater, low in He.  Likewise, ocean-floor basalts are probably affected in the same way by hydrothermal circulation of seawater, thereby diluting the flux of helium from the mantle and perhaps helping to account for anomalously low helium flux. Another widely accepted view that the high 3He/4He ratios of hotspot basalts is evidence for their source in primitive mantle – 3He is probably a product of nucleosynthesis and therefore primordial as far as the Earth is concerned – is challenged by a recent paper that shows that helium is dissolved in mantle minerals (Parman, S.W. et al., 2005. Helium solubility in olivine and implications for high 3He/4He in ocean island basalts. Nature, v. 437, p. 1140-1143).  Parman et al.’s measurements suggest that the high 3He might result from residues of earlier melting in the mantle, rather than coming from parts that have remain in the state they were when the Earth accreted.

Vanished Martian sea or not?

The Mars Rover data from the Opportunity site that showed up masses of sulfate minerals in the large depression that it has roamed for 2 years prompted the notion that they formed as a sizeable body of surface water evaporated. The Rover Opportunity scientists have also speculated on Mars once having had highly acidic ‘weather’, in the form of sulfuric acid rain from SO2 emitted by volcanoes. The sediments at the Opportunity site also show signs of fluid transport in the form of bedding and cross stratification, ascribed to moving water. Most independent-minded scientists confronted by a united front of vast teams of highly focused scientists sometimes feel that there is more than one way of skinning a cat.  Such is the case of Paul Knauth and Donald Burt of Arizona State University and Kenneth Wohletz of the Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico. The visualise the dramatic evidence from Opportunity in an altogether more mundane scenario (Knauth, L.P. et al., 2005.  Impact origin of sediments at the Opportunity landing site on Mars. Nature, v. 438, p. 1123-1128). Their main point of departure is quite simple; acidic water full of hydrogen ions is a powerful means of weathering and the production of clay minerals. Clays are very uncommon on Mars, particularly at the Opportunity site, and have only shown up rarely on hyperspectral remote sensing images.

Layered sediments are evidence for fluid deposition, but not only water produces them. As well as wind transport and deposition, they are also formed by gas-rich base surges from explosive volcanism and meteorite impacts – and also during surface nuclear explosions that mimic impacts, hence the Los Alamos connection. Knauth et al. explain the Opportunity deposits as debris originally made of rock, sulphides brines and ice flung from a massive impact. They explain the sulfates as products of interaction between melted ices and sulfides. The extension of the Opportunity team’s hypothesis of evaporating surface water is that it would have been long-lived, perhaps sufficiently so for the emergence of acid-loving organisms, similar to those that infest groundwater in terrestrial massive sulfide deposits. Should the deposit prove to have formed during an extremely rapid event, such as an impact, the idea of it having hosted primitive life forms becomes extremely unlikely. Gleefully, Knauth et al. almost exactly match the Opportunity image mosaic of layered sediments with a photograph of a New Mexico layered, volcanic surge deposit. Surges from large impacts, and Mars was intensely bombarded in its early history, can extend hundreds of kilometres from the crater rim. Many other examples of layered sequences are being revealed by high-resolution orbital images of Mars, and interpreters regularly ascribe them to wind, flowing water or volcanic processes. Ockham’s Razor demands the most likely and simplest explanation for phenomena, and impacts could have formed the lot. The earliest detection of features that only flowing water could have carved – the sinuous canyons on Mars, originally prompted such a simple explanation, that water was released en masse by early massive impacts. Perhaps there is a much wider link between many Martian features and the most common geological agent in the Solar System.

A tragic 2005

Readers of EPN do not need reminding that in the last year Earth processes wrought tragedy on a scale rarely witnessed. That scenes from each disaster reached TV screens globally within hours does seem to have been a wake-up call to geoscientists to at least try to make the next event trigger more timely and efficient assistance, hopefully with clearer advance warning. The year has seen increased understanding of seismic processes in general, and the beginnings of greater co-ordination among scientists concerned about natural hazards. Yet we live in a world with more chronic tragedy too: millions dead or whose lives have been shattered by the anarchy in Congo from the scramble for diamonds, gold and even the tantalum used for boom-time cellnet ‘phones; more still across Africa lack water to drink safely; and mineral booty continues to support repressive regimes, that hold back and disrupt most people’s aspirations and talents.

It is not hard to see that geoscientists have a central role that they could play in alleviating such blights, given the will – we certainly have the time as well as the skills to use and share.

Deep-sea mining to realise its promise?

On paper, metal resources lying on the deep ocean floor look like an economic panacea. Large areas are covered with either a crust or scattered, potato-sized nodules rich in manganese, copper, cobalt, nickel and several other metals. In some ocean basins, one scoop might provide ore grades for all of them, as in the best onshore multi-metal deposits. ‘Black smokers’ and the metal-rich pillars and muds that develop from them seem just as promising for lead, zinc, copper and even gold: such submarine hydrothermal exhalations probably formed many of the rich massive sulphide deposits sought on land. The 1960s and early 70s seemed likely to foster a fundamental shift in metal extraction, but despite rises in metal prices after the 1973 Yom Kippur war and Iranian revolution of 1978, the excitement faded to insignificance.  There were a few ironies too. A ship was designed and almost completed by one of Howard Hughes’ many companies, Global Marine, supposedly to harvest ocean-floor manganese nodules. In fact, the venture was to be secretly directed at salvaging a sunken Soviet nuclear submarine, and the code books that it carried, from the floor of the Pacific Ocean. It now seems that ocean-floor mining might be resurrected – assuming that all does not descend into further wrangling over the Law of the Sea and who should benefit from profits (Thwaites, T. 2005.  Treasure Ocean. New Scientist, 17 December 2005, p. 40-53). An Australian company called Seacore is soon to drill around New Guinea and New Zealand to evaluate the potential of exhalative deposits.  They claim that if thicknesses greater than 15 m, at decent grades for gold, copper, zinc, silver and lead, are found dredging up the ores would be commercially possible.  Essentially it would be literally a smash and grab job, unlike the massive logistics of on-shore open-pit and subsurface mining, albeit tempered by problems connected with depths of several kilometres. Understandably, there are environmental concerns about exposing highly anomalous concentrations of metals and associated sulfide minerals, probably in a fine-grained soft state. Ocean ecosystems are fundamentally based on clear water, and mud plumes could wreak havoc far afield.  The deposits would have to be sucked to the surface using the air-lift dredge technique pioneered by marine archaeologists, but on a much larger scale.  Yet this appears to be more than a means of attracting and siphoning off venture capital, for the groundwork of identifying targets has already been done by Placer Dome, a well-heeled Canadian mining company.  Also, the thorny issue of the legality of harvesting the global oceanic ‘commons’ in international waters is being avoided by drilling within national offshore limits, as has long happened with offshore oil development.

Arc-like andesites from the ocean floor

To most geologists ‘andesite’ spells subduction beneath island arcs and continental margins.  Geochemically they share a universal signature: their depletion in the elements niobium and tantalum. Both find the aqueous fluids that rise from subducting slabs repellent and so they stay in the source of arc magmas, almost certainly in amphibole minerals. Negative Nb and Ta anomalies pervade the continental crust, suggesting that it owes its origin to subduction processes of some kind over maybe the whole of recorded geological time.  The other dominant means of expelling magmas is through the adiabatic melting of drier upper mantle as it rises along oceanic rift zones. Theoretically and also in innumerable analyses of ocean-floor rocks Nb and Ta behave like other elements that favour melts over the minerals of mantle residues.  That there are ocean-floor rocks that show evidence of incompatible behaviour of the two elements comes as quite a surprise. More surprising still is that they are of bulk andesitic to more silica-rich dacitic composition (Haase, K.M. et al., 2005. Nb-depleted andesites from the Pacific-Antarctic Rise as an analogue for early continental crust. Geology, v. 33, p. 921-924). The rocks analysed by the team from the Christian-Albrechts University of Kiel, Germany, occur close to a hotspot in the South Pacific and span about 130 km of the ridge system, along with basalts.

Modelling the geochemistry of the silicic lavas suggests a dominant role for fractional crystallization of magnetite and ilmenite from a basaltic parent magma that itself is enriched in iron and titanium. Yet, associated basalts do not show depleted Nb and Ta, so some other mechanism must be responsible for their occurrence in the andesites. One possibility is production of silicic magma by partial melting of amphibole-rich mafic oceanic crust, and then its mixing with fractionated basalt to form low-density magma that rises. Silicic lavas in Archaean greenstone belts are often associated with basalts that chemical affinities to those in modern oceanic settings. It is therefore possible that a substantial proportion of Archaean continental crust originated in ocean hotspot settings, rather than by some form of subduction process.