Followers of Earth-pages News have been unable to access the site for more than three weeks due to a technical problem that disabled the earth-pages.co.uk link. The fault has been found and remedied. Apologies for the loss of service.
Steve Drury
Followers of Earth-pages News have been unable to access the site for more than three weeks due to a technical problem that disabled the earth-pages.co.uk link. The fault has been found and remedied. Apologies for the loss of service.
Steve Drury
Every evening’s TV schedules include either an ad for some kind of ‘virtual reality’ (VR) device or a ‘techie’ programme in which one appears. As well as massively multiplayer online role-playing games, commercial VR offers 3-D encounters with charging rhinoceroses, surfing, wingsuit flying and other ‘experiences’ that are either life threatening or viciously expensive. Second Life, the online virtual world (but not yet compatible with VR goggles), appeared as long ago as 2003 and at present has about a million regular users and many more have passed through its portal, eventually to tire of its cheesiness. Yet, Second Life no longer seems to be a topic of normal conversation; maybe aficionados don’t go out very often. The development software, the speed and resolution of computers, the peripheral technologies and the visual quality of immersive VR seem to be following something like Moore’s law – the observation that the number of transistors in a dense integrated circuit doubles approximately every two years. And VR gaming is clearly very profitable with revenues likely to rise from about US$17 million in 2014 to over US$ 20 billion by 2020.
Douglas McCauley writes in Science (Insights 20 October 2017) about the potential of digital games and simulation for expanding the reach of STEM education, particularly in his own field ecology (McCauley, D.J. 2017. Digital nature: Are field trips a thing of the past? Science, v. 359, p. 298-300; doi: 10.1126/science.aao1919). His view is partly positive, as they match the thirst for armchair experiences and the growing digital expertise of the billion or more gamers and many more whose culture is dominated by electronic media, skewed strongly to the under-24s. For instance, children in the US spend on average 7 hours per day online, but only 4 to 7 minutes of unstructured outdoor play. There are obvious opportunities to familiarise and enthuse young people with the staggering richness of the natural world, which none of us will ever be able to witness first hand. At a time when the UK National Trust reports, for instance, that only a third of British children can recognise a magpie (a distinctive and common European member of the crow family) whereas 9 out of 10 easily recognise a Dalek alien cyborg, there is clearly a need. Sixty years ago David Attenborough’s early monochrome Zoo Quest series on BBC TV definitely drew me into natural science as it did millions of others, and I for one am deeply grateful for his then somewhat awkward efforts. So it would be stupid to condemn the potential of VR and more plain-vanilla gaming methods as they could do much the same and probably a great deal more. But can it really teach the field skills needed by any potential observational scientist rather than just make people more interested?
McCauley is less certain on that front, and so am I. Studies have shown that virtual field trip participants perform no better than their peers who engaged only in conventional illustrated lectures. ‘Immersive’ experiences can simulate some, but not all aspects of real terrain, ecosystems and geological features. My own geological ventures have involved a ‘virtual’ aspect provided by remote sensing and image interpretation. Those now pretty aged technologies show ‘the big picture’ – with some zoom-in capacity – and provide insights into regional and, with Google Earth, local geological structures and relationships. By capturing imagery outside the humanly visible wavelength range they add a great deal about rock composition that would otherwise require large sample collections, petrographic interpretation of thin sections and some basic geochemistry. A stereoscopic 3-D view and the use of terrain in creating perspective oblique images also permit estimates of dip and strike of strata. But it is all a bit inhuman and alien, much the same as ‘doing’ geology on Mars without the opportunity to behave as a curious being would if actually on the surface. Any field scientist has real experience imprinted for years in much the same way as would her hunter-gatherer forbears, while it has been shown that virtual experiences may persist for a mere few weeks. My view is that often uncomfortable, total immersion in field reality, literally step-by-step and day after day fosters continual reflection during and for a long time after the experience. Much of science in general is about ‘mulling over’ observations at every level of detail; the more detail and the more repetition the deeper the insight and the more profound the breaks through.
As higher education continues along its path of commodification the more supposedly ‘immersive’ virtual experiences are likely to supplant field work, largely for cost reasons – both for students and institutions. In my former institution, to which I am still tenuously attached, a decision was taken 17 years ago to make residential field studies optional, and in 2011 to abandon them almost entirely in favour of ‘virtual’ experiences of one kind or another. The results have been dramatic: enrollment in geoscientific courses has fallen to a third of the pre-2000 level; retention has declined by up to 10% and pass rates have dropped significantly. The bottom line is that what we used to call Earth sciences has become increasingly marginalised as regards the range of courses on offer.
For most scientists research brings many pleasures: exercising curiosity and ingenuity; the moment of discovery, sometimes an esprit de corps; showing that you were right, and so on. Anthropologists might say that it is a form of playfulness, the ‘scientific method’ being the rules of the game. Telling people about your results at conferences also has its bright moments: showing off; making new acquaintances and renewing old ones; a wider esprit de corps; globetrotting, all expenses paid. Communicating data and discussing results formally before that part of the academic world that you inhabit is a pain by comparison, even for the most gifted writer. Have all avenues of enquiry and interpretation been exhausted? Is your paper a model of clarity, and will/can anyone read it? Is what you have to recount actually new and/or important? Have you missed something that has already been published? Have you committed plagiarism unconsciously. Are your references bang up to date? The anonymous peer-review system can be merciless, and so can journal editors. Writing up and awaiting reviews are among the most stressful periods in the professional lives of most researchers, because so many boxes have to be ticked to glide effortlessly into print.
The greatest of all literary bugbears is tailoring the style of your list of references to that of the target journal. Very, very occasionally the publisher will employ kindly sub-editors who make sure that all is well in this the most arcane of all academic rituals. The problem is that every academic publishing house and even different journals that each produces have subtly different rules for references cited, in the text and in the list at the end. There are so many permutations and combinations: a comma before the year; v. before volume number, including the issue or not, bold or plain font; journal name in full or one of several kinds of abbreviation; each author’s initials separated by a space or not (the former for the Journal of Geology if you have been wondering – ‘Their given names in full are separated by a space, so it is only polite’!). And there is much, much more in each journal’s ‘Information for Authors’. Quanmin Guo of the University of Birmingham (Correspondence, Nature, v. 540 22/29 December 2016, p. 525) makes the obvious point that every journal should conform to a uniform style – within vividly distinctive bindings what is the need for arcane house rules?
But there is another, more serious grouse about the vast majority of journals. If your institution or you as an individual cannot afford to subscribe to a journal you will inevitably come up against the ‘paywall’ when you try to read an article on line ($10 – 50 per article) even at a time when well-heeled academics are paying for their papers to be open-access (in most cases still behind the paywall for 6 months following publication). The irony is that less well-off researchers also cannot afford to make their work available to all. Alexandra Elbakyan of Alamaty, Kazakhstan, set out to circumvent the paywall barrier to scholarly exchange, and succeeded in the foundation of Sci-Hub (Van Noorden, R. 2016. Paper pirate. Nature, v. 540, p. 512-513), which hosts about 60 million papers and encompassed about 3% of all PDF downloads in the last year (simply by pasting in a paper’s DOI. Alexandra has been widely praised and thanked, served with a writ for breach of copyright (by Elsevier), had Sci-Hub shut down by order of a US judge (there are proxies), and is currently incommunicado (except for encrypted e-mail) for fear of a demand for multi-million dollar damages. Chances are that she has opened a floodgate to future universal open access. In the meantime, unless I am hopelessly mistaken, there is a perfectly legal work around for you to get must-read papers shortly after they appear at no cost. Email the corresponding author (usually in the free online Abstract in a journals latest issue list of contents) and ask for an offprint in the form of a PDF ‘for the purpose of scholarly exchange’.
While she was US Secretary of State from 2009 to 2013, Hilary Clinton the 2016 Democrat candidate for presidential office habitually used her private email server to send and receive messages, both personal and concerning affairs of state. She did not activate a state.gov email account for the official stuff, saying that it was ‘for convenience’ as her Blackberry smartphone could only access on account. More than 30 thousand undeleted e-mails were hacked by ‘persons unknown’ and appeared on Wikileaks in early 2016, with more in late October 2016, to become one of several issues central to the 2016 US presidential campaign. This practice was twice exonerated by the FBI, despite her account proving to be insecure and the risk to state secrets.
Hans Thybo, President of the European Geophysical Union and a widely esteemed professor of seismology at the University of Copenhagen, was not so lucky. He was fired by the University authorities, allegedly for using his private email account for work-related issues and advising a postdoctoral fellow that criticising the University’s management was ‘legitimate’. More than 1000 academic colleagues have petitioned the University of Copenhagen to reverse its decision and reinstate Thybo, and his case was central to the lead editorial A creeping corporate culture in Nature of 15 December 2016.
Anyone connected for more than a few years with academic life in probably every university on the planet will be conscious of the spread of a culture of bureaucratic control, corporatism and commodification in what formerly were largely self-governing institutions of higher education and research. The trend is in line with increasing, omnidirectional economic pressures stemming from the aftermath of the 2007-8 global financial crisis. But it is not entirely new. My own experience suggests it is partly a logical outcome of leading academics becoming increasingly prone to saying ‘Yes’; at best simply disengaging from dispute with a growing managerial caste within education and research, at worst by opportunistically joining it. A serious disjuncture has developed between teachers and researchers and the managers and business administrators in institutions of higher education. Symptomatic of this kind of schism was the recent passing of a motion of no confidence in the Vice Chancellors Executive of Britain’s Open University by its unionised academic and academic-related staff, following disastrous bungling of a new means of tuition of its entirely non-residential undergraduates in the current academic year. Those who were to implement the measures were inadequately consulted by the leading managers, most of whom had little experience of how the OU had functioned successfully since it received its Charter in 1969.
In Britain, checks and balances on the requirements of management and faculty historically centred on their Senate, once the primary academic authority of universities, in which all members of both academic and non-academic sectors freely debated and passed judgement on new directions and the abandonment of practices that had been found wanting. In most institutions, the Senate has been reduced since the mid 1980s to a mere fraction of staff, who, after nomination, are elected by the various components of the institution, together with unelected, ex officio, members of senior management. In practice, Senates now generally act as a ‘rubber stamp’ for decisions of the top echelons, much in the manner of business corporations.
Part of the new culture attempts to regulate electronic communications. An example of such an IT regulation states that the institution ‘… may monitor all data, systems and network traffic at any time …’, i.e. it claims ownership of work-related communication. No wonder Hans Thybo fell foul of his university. Should outside pressure persuade the authorities of the University of Copenhagen to reinstate him, that would be a significant blow against what has become an unwholesome aspect of learning and scholarship.
In 2000 I was approached by Ian Francis, then a commissioning editor at Blackwell Science if I would like to write a series of news items on advances in Earth Science for the publishers’ new website Earth-Pages. The invitation stemmed from his having read my recently published book Stepping Stones: The Making of Our Home World, which threaded a similar path through developments in the science that I helped to teach through the Open University. Ian’s initiative led to my learning a great deal by sifting through leading scientific journals, which became a weekly discipline. Much of what I commented on covered the eclectic spread of Stepping Stones, but I did not think of authoring a revised edition of the book until just a few years before I retired from the Open University in 2011. As they say; ‘what with one thing or another’ it took me another 7 or 8 years to galvanise myself for such a task. If you would like to have a look at the revised edition, it is now on-line at https://earthstep.wordpress.com/.

Deciding to produce it in electronic form it occurred to me to make it a possible means of geoscience self-teaching by various devices, such as suggesting key words and phrases to find more in-depth material through a web browser and, equally important, to find useful images. Fifteen years of working on over 800 posts for Earth-Pages and the publications that they were about made revising Stepping Stones a quicker task than I had anticipated. Then it dawned on me that I had written a lot more on various topics for Earth-Pages than I had in the new project. So the Earth-Pages archive is a possibly valuable learning resource, if you can navigate through it, which is not always easy. Being the source for most of the new additions to the book’s Further Reading in, inserting links from each reference to the appropriate post in the Earth-Pages archive was easy.
Oh, and another thing, so few published science authors gain satisfaction from royalties, I decided Stepping Stones v.2.0 should be free!
Readers may recall my occasional rants over the years against the growing bandwagoning for an ‘Anthropocene‘ epoch at the top of the stratigraphic column. I , for one, was delighted to find in the latest issue of GSA Today a more sober assessment of the campaign by two stratigraphers who are well placed to have a real say in whether or not the ‘Anthropocene’ is acceptable, one serving on the International Commission on Stratigraphy, the other on the North American Commission on Stratigraphic Nomenclature (Finney, S.C. & Edwards, L.E. 2016. The “Anthropocene” epoch: Scientific decision or political statement? GSA Today, v. 26 (3–4).
Regular readers will know that I have strong views on attempts to burden stratigraphy with a new Epoch: the Anthropocene. The central one is that the lead-in to a putsch has as much to do with the creation of a bandwagon, to whose wheels all future geologists will be shackled, as it does to any scientific need for such a novelty. Bound up as it is with the fear that Earth may be experiencing its sixth mass extinction, the mooted Anthropocene will likely become a mere boundary marked by future stratigraphers as a Global Boundary Stratotype Section and Point or GSSP between the existing Holocene Epoch and that sequence of sedimentary strata and their fossil record that will be laid down on top of it. Or not, if humanity becomes extinct should the economically induced, dangerous modifications of our homeworld of the last few decades or centuries not be halted. Either way, it defies the stratigraphic ‘rule book’.
No one can deny that humanity’s activities are now immensely disruptive to surface geological processes. Nor is it possible to rule out such disruptive change to the biosphere in the near-future that a latter-day equivalent of the K/Pg or end-Permian events is on the cards: such confidence does not spring from the interminable succession of grand words and global inaction reiterated in December 2015 by the UN Paris Agreement on economically-induced climate change. Still, it was a bit of a relief to find that palaeontological evidence, or rather statistics derived from the fossil record in North American sedimentary rocks since the Carboniferous, emphasises that there is no need for the adoption of Anthropocene as an acceptable geological adjective.
To ecologists, extinctions are not the be all and end all of disruption of the biosphere. Major shifts in life’s richness are also recorded by the way entire ecosystems become disrupted. A classic, if small-scale, example is that way in which the ecosystem of the US Yellowstone National Park changed since the eradication by 1926 of the few hundred grey wolves that formerly preyed mainly on elk. In the 20 years since wolf reintroduction to the Park in 1995 the hugely complex but fragile Yellowstone ecosystem has showed clear signs of recovery of its pre-extirpation structure and diversity.
A consortium of mainly US ecologists, led by Kathleen Lyons of the National Museum of Natural History at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC, has assessed linkages between species of fossil animal and plants since the Carboniferous (S.K. Lyons and 28 others, 2015. Holocene shifts in the assembly of plant and animal communities implicate human impacts. Nature, published on-line 16 December 2015 doi:10.1038/nature16447). They found that of the 350 thousand pairs of species that occurred together at different times throughout the late Palaeozoic to the last Epoch of the Cenozoic, the Holocene, some pairs appeared or clustered together more often than might be expected from random chance. Such non-random association suggests to ecologists that the two members of such a pair somehow shared ecological resources persistently, hinting at relationships that helped stabilise their shared ecosystem. For most of post-300 Ma time an average of 64% of non-random pairs prevailed, but after 11.7 ka ago – the start of the Holocene – that dropped to 37%, suggesting a general destabilisation of many of the ecosystems being considered. This closely correlates with the first human colonisation of the Americas, the last of the habitable continents to which humans migrated. This matches the empirical evidence of early Holocene extinctions of large mammals in the Americas, which itself is analogous to the decimation of large fauna in Australasia during the late Pleistocene following human arrival from about 50 to 60 ka ago. Significant human-induced ecological impact seems to have accompanied their initial appearance everywhere. The ecological effects of animal domestication and agriculture in Eurasia and the Americas mark the Holocene particularly. In fact, in Europe the presence of Mesolithic hunter gatherers is generally inferred, in the face of very rare finds of artefacts and dwellings, from changes in pollen records from Holocene lake and wetland sediments, which show periods of tree clearance that can not be accounted for by climate change.
There is no need for Anthropocene, other than as a political device.
Although Alfred Wegener first began to present his ideas on Continental Drift in 1912 his publication in 1915 of The Origin of Continents and Oceans (Die Entstehung der Kontinente und Ozeane) is generally taken as the global launch of his hypothesis. Apart from support from Alexander du Toit and Arthur Holmes, geoluminaries of the day panned it unmercifully because, in the absence of evidence for a driving mechanism, he speculated that his proposed ‘urkontinent’ (primal continent) Pangaea had been split apart by a centrifugal mechanism connected to the precession of Earth’s rotational axis. This ‘polflucht’ (flight from the poles) is in fact far too weak to have any such influence. Wegener’s masterly assembly of geological evidence for former links between the major continents was ignored by the critics, suggesting that their motive for excoriation of his suggested mechanism was as much spite against an ‘outsider’ as a full consideration of his hypothesis. It must have been hurtful in the extreme, yet Wegener defended himself with a series of revised editions that amassed yet more concrete evidence. What is often overlooked, even now that his ideas have become part of the geoscientific canon, is that in his initial Geologische Rundschau paper in 1912 he mused that the floor of the Atlantic is continuously spreading by tearing apart at the mid-Atlantic Ridge where ‘relatively fluid and hot sima’ rises. Strangely, he dropped that idea in later works. Anyhow, neither 2012 nor 2015 was celebrated in the manner of the centenary-and-a-half of Darwin’s On the Origin of Species: 2009 was marked by palaeobiologists and geneticists metaphorically dancing in the streets, if not foaming at the mouth. There have been a few paragraphs, and some minor symposia about Wegener’s dragging geology out of the 18th century and into the 20th, but that’s about it. The best centenary item I have seen is by Marco Romano and Richard Cifelli (Romano, M. & Cifelli, R.L. 2015. 100 years of continental drift. Science, v. 350, p. 916-916).
In the shape of plate tectonics the Earth sciences hosted what was truly a revolution in science, albeit 50 years on from its discoverer’s announcement. It was through the persistent agitation by his tiny band of supporters, that the upheaval was unleashed when the revelations from palaeomagnetism, seismology and many other lines of evidence were resolved as plate tectonics by the discovery of ocean-floor magnetic stripes by Vine, Matthews and Morley in 1963. Despite an explosion of papers that followed, elaborating onthe new theory and showing examples of its influence on ‘big’ geology , counter-revolutionary resistance lasted almost to the first years of the new century. By then so much evidence had emerged from every geological Eon that opponents looked truly stupid. Even so, the skepticism among those sub-disciplines that were ‘left out’ of geodynamic thought continued to blurt out with the emergence of other exciting aspects of the Earth’s history. I remember that, when three of us in the Open University’s Department of Earth Sciences proposed in 1994 that the influence of impacts by extraterrestrial objects ought to figure in a new course on the evolution of Earth and Life we were sneered at as ‘whizz-bang kids’ by those more earth-bound. Trying belatedly in 1996 to introduce students to another revolutionary development – the use of sedimentary and glacial oxygen isotopes in unraveling past climate change – became a huge struggle in the OU’s Faculty of Science. It went to the press eventually and for 2 years our students had the benefit. But the murmuration of dissent ended with a force-majeur re-edit of the course, by someone who had played no role in its development, expunged the lot and changed the ‘offending’ section back to the way it had been a decade before. As they say: ho hum!
Oddly, in the last 15 years or so of trying to follow in Earth-Pages what I considered to be the most exciting developments in the geosciences, it has become increasing difficult to find papers in the top journals that are truly ground-breaking. Of course that may just be ageing and a certain cynicism that often companies it. From being spoiled for choice week after week it has become increasingly difficult from month to month to maintain the standards that I have set for new work. Has Earth science entered the fifth phase of a ‘paradigm shift’ predicted by philosopher Thomas Kuhn in his 1962 book The Structure of Scientific Revolutions? According to him once a science has entered a period when there is little consensus on the theories that might lie at the root of natural processes there is a drift in opinion to a few conceptual frameworks that seem to work, albeit leaving a lot to be desired. Weaknesses at the frontier between theory and empirical knowledge become increasingly burdensome as a result of the steady plod of ‘normal science’ until the science in question reaches a crisis. If existing paradigms fail repeatedly, science is ripe for the metaphorical equivalent of a ‘Big Bang’: maybe an entirely new discovery or hypothesis, or an idea that has been suppressed which new data fits better than any others that have been common currency. Plate Tectonics is the second kind. After the revolution much is reexamined and new lines of work emerge, until in Kuhn’s 5th phase scientists return to ‘normal science’. That looks like a pretty good story, on paper, but other forces are at work in science; external to scientific objectives. Most of these are a blend of economics, political ideologies and managerial ‘practicalities’. If the Earth sciences have entered the doldrums of novelty, I suspect it is these forces that are bearing some kind of glum fruit.
The old concept of academic freedom has gone by the board. Institutions demand that research is externally funded – the more the better as the institution, at least in the UK, demands a kind of tax (40% of that proposed) supposedly to cover corporate overheads including salaries of support staff. If an academic doesn’t pull in the dosh, she is not much favoured. If the individual doesn’t publish regularly either, there is a weasel sanction: Josephine Soap is declared ‘research inactive’. Consortia of researchers are more and more in vogue: managers and funders like ‘team players’, so individuals who are bright and confident enough to ‘stick their necks out’ cannot do that in a consortium publication and as often as not are ‘left on the bench’. Risk taking is more dangerous now and to stay ‘research active’, and in many cases of non-tenured posts getting a salary, an individual, even a few like-minded colleagues have to publish 2 or 3 papers a year.
It’s worth mentioning that open access publishing is not just all the rage, it has become more or less compulsory. Of course, it has some benefits for scientists in less well-heeled countries, but there is a downside. You have to raise the cash demanded by journals for the privilege or potentially universal access – at least US$1000 a pop, depending on a journals Impact Factor, and that of course is an odiously essential corporate consideration – and having done that woe betide those who do not publish and spend it. Academic publishing is the most profitable sector of the trade, the more so as print is supplanted by electronic delivery – the 50 free reprints is a thing of the past. So there are more and more journals and each of them strives to get out more issues per year, and of course those have to be filled. To me, this all adds up to more and more ‘pot-boiler’ articles and a tendency to maximise the flesh rendered from the body of research work and into the pot. Taken together with the stresses of commodification in higher education and the now vertical corporate structures from which it is constituted, it shouldn’t be a surprise that excitement and inspiration are at a premium in the weekly and monthly output of such a marginal science as that concerned with how the world works.
The made-up word chrononymy could be applied to the study of the names of geological divisions and their places on the International Stratigraphic Chart. Until 2008 that was something of a slow-burner, as careers go. It all began with Giovanni Arduino and Johann Gotlob Lehman in the mid- to late 18th century, during the informal historic episode known as the Enlightenment. To them we owe the first statements of stratigraphic principles and the beginning of stratigraphic divisions: rocks divided into the major segments of Primitive, Secondary, Tertiary and Quaternary (Arduino). Thus stratigraphy seeks to set up a fundamental scale or chart for expressing Earth’s history as revealed by rocks. The first two divisions bit the dust long ago; Tertiary is now an informal synonym for the Cenozoic Era; only Quaternary clings on as the embattled Period at the end of the Cenozoic. All 11 Systems/Periods of the Phanerozoic, their 37 Series/Epochs and 85 Stages/Ages in the latest version of the International Stratigraphic Chart have been thrashed out since then, much being accomplished in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Curiously, the world body responsible for sharpening up the definition of this system of ‘chrononymy’, the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS), seems not to have seen fit to record the history of stratigraphy: a great mystery. Without it geologists would be unable to converse with one another and the world at large.
Yet now an increasing number of scientists are seriously proposing a new entry at the 4th level of division after Eon, Era and Period: a new Epoch that acknowledges the huge global impact of human activity on atmosphere, hydrosphere, biosphere and even lithosphere. They want it to be called the Anthropocene, and for some its eventual acceptance ought to relegate the current Holocene Epoch, in which humans invented agriculture, a form of economic intercourse and exchange known as capital and all the trappings of modern industry, to the 5th division or Stage. Earth-pages has been muttering about the Anthropocene for the past decade, as charted in a number of the links above, so if you want to know which way its author is leaning and how he came to find the proposal an unnecessary irritation, have a look at them. Last week things became sufficiently serious for another comment. Simon Lewis and Mark Maslin of the Department of Geography at University College London have summarised the scientific grounds alleged to justify an Anthropocene Epoch and its strict definition in a Nature Perspective (Lewis, S.J. & Maslin, M.A. 2015. Defining the Anthropocene. Nature, v. 519, p. 171-180).-=, which is interestingly discussed in the same Issue by Richard Monastersky.
Lewis and Maslin present two dates that their arguments and accepted stratigraphic protocols suggest as candidates for the start of the Anthropocene: 1610 and 1964 CE, both of which relate to features that are expressed by geological records that should last indefinitely. The first is a decline and eventual recovery in the atmospheric CO2 level recorded in high-resolution Antarctic ice core records between 1570 and 1620 CE that can be ascribed to the decline in the population of the Americas’ native peoples from an estimated 60 to 6 million. This result of the impact of European first colonisation – disease, slaughter, enslavement and famine – reduced agriculture and fire use and saw the regeneration of 5 x 107 hectares of forest, which drew down CO2 globally. It also coincides with the coolest part of the Little Ice Age from 1594-1677 CE. They caution against the start of the Industrial Revolution as an alternative for a ‘Golden Spike’ since it was a diachronous event, beginning in Europe. Instead, they show that the second proposal for a start in 1964 has a good basis in the record of global anthropogenic effects on the Earth marked by the peak fallout of radioactive isotopes generated by atomic weapons tests during the Cold War, principally 14C with a 5730 year half life, together with others more long-lived. The year 1964 is also roughly when growth in all aspects of human activity really took off, which some dub in a slightly Tolkienesque manner the ‘Great Acceleration’. [There is a growing taste for this kind of hyperbole, e.g. the ‘Great Oxygenation Event’ around 2.4 Ga and the ‘Great Dying’ for the end-Permian mass extinction]. Yet they neglect to note that the geochronological origin point for times past has been defined as 1950 CE when nucleogenic 14C contaminated later materials as regards radiocarbon dating, which had just become feasible. Lewis and Maslin conclude their Perspective as follows:
To a large extent the future of the only place where life is known to exist is being determined by the actions of humans. Yet, the power that humans wield is unlike any other force of nature, because it is reflexive and therefore can be used, withdrawn or modified. More widespread recognition that human actions are driving far-reaching changes to the life-supporting infrastructure of Earth may well have increasing philosophical, social, economic and political implications over the coming decades.
So the Anthropocene adds the future to the stratigraphic column, which seems more than slightly odd. As Richard Monastersky notes, it is in fact a political entity: part of some kind of agenda or manifesto; a sort of environmental agitprop from the ‘geos’. As if there were not dozens of rational reasons to change human impacts to haul society back from catastrophe, which many people outside the scientific community have good reason to see as hot air on which there is never any concrete action by ‘the great and the good’. Monastersky also notes that the present Anthropocene record in naturally deposited geological materials accounts for less than a millimetre at the top of ocean-floor sediments. How long might the proposed Epoch last? If action to halt anthropogenic environmental change does eventually work, the Anthropocene will be very short in historic terms let alone those which form the currency of geology. If it doesn’t, there will be nobody around able to document, let alone understand, the epochal events recorded in rocks. At its worst, for some alien, visiting planetary scientists, far in the future, an Anthropocene Epoch will almost certainly be far shorter than the 104 to 105 years represented by the hugely more important Palaeozoic-Mesozoic and Mesozoic-Cenozoic boundary sequences; but with no Wikipedia entry.
Not everybody gets a vote on these kinds of thing, such is the way that science is administered, but all is not lost. The final arbiter is the Executive Committee of the International Union of Geological Sciences (IUGS), but first the Anthropocene’s status as a new Epoch has to be approved by 60% of the ICS Subcommission on Quaternary Stratigraphy, if put to a vote. Then such a ‘supermajority’ would be needed from the chairs of all 16 of the ICS subcommissions that study Earth’s major time divisions. But first, the 37 members of the Subcommission on Quaternary Stratigraphy’s ‘Anthropocene’ working group have to decide whether or not to submit a proposal: things may drag on at an appropriately stratigraphic pace. Yet the real point is that the effect of human activity on Earth-system processes has been documented and discussed at length. I’ll give Marx the last word in this ‘The philosophers have only interpreted the world, in various ways. The point, however, is to change it’. A new stratigraphic Epoch doesn’t really seem to measure up to that…
In mid-December, British universities, their constituent units and departments, and most academics experienced the same kind of traumatic day familiar to 18-year olds awaiting the examination results on which their advancement to higher education, or not, depended. December 18th, 2014, was REF-Day. Since its predecessor (RAE-Day), 8 years before, a vast – by university standards – effort went into preparing bids on a department-by-department basis to rank them nationally and conflate individual assessments to build a sort of institutional league table for research excellence; hence REF stands for Research Excellence Framework (the RAE was the less meritorious-sounding Research Assessment Exercise). It resembled the Guide Michelin or Automobile Association star system for restaurants and hotels or guest houses. The reason for the 8-year frenzy of activity was that the outcomes aimed to inform the selective allocation of governmental research funding. Unsurprisingly, this kind of competition stemmed from the Tory government of Margaret Thatcher, which in 1986 set the scene for ‘performance-related’ funding rather than that based on peer review of each individual bid for major grants, which preceded it.
To itemise each aspect of the way the REF worked could take the majority of Earth Pages readers to an early and ignoble grave. It centred on departmental selection from its full-time researchers of those who were deemed to be ‘research active’ and those who were not, the former having to select four recently published works or ‘outputs’. They had to self-assess each according to its ‘impact’, defined as ‘an effect on, change or benefit to the economy, society, culture, public policy or services, health, the environment or quality of life, beyond academia’. Institutions vetted and bundled individual submissions, collated them in the subject areas designated by the REF, then sent them off to ‘REF Central’, where they were to be reviewed by subject-specialist panels that gave out the stars for each submitted item of work: **** = world-leading (30% were deemed to be); *** = internationally excellent (46%); ** = recognized internationally (20%); * = recognized nationally (3%); unclassified = below the standard of national recognition (1% – presumably those obviously lacking star quality were weeded out at institution level). There were more than 190 thousand ‘outputs’, which begs the questions; Were all of them read by at least one specialist panel member? Against what standards were they judged?
On average, each of the roughly 1000 panelists would have had to consider about 190 outputs in greater depth than a casual skim, or more if some were read by several panelists. Outputs were rated ‘in terms of their “originality, significance and rigour”, with reference to international research quality standards’, ‘the “reach and significance” of impacts on the economy, society and/or culture’ and the part they played in their department’s contribution to ‘the vitality and sustainability… of the wider discipline or research base’. On paper – and believe me, REF Central produced plenty of wordy PDFs of guidance – this level of scrutiny makes the adjective ‘daunting’ seem a bit of an understatement. Entering into this spirit of things in the gleeful manner of a Michelin or AA assessor does seem to me a bit hard to grasp. I wonder if the panels in reality just checked each submission for signs of an overly hubristic vision of self-worth.
To some extent, the issue of each output’s citation count or other bibliometric measure must at some stage have come into REF reckoning, and here is what spurred me to defy normal cautions about boredom as a contributor to general organ failure. Physicist Reinhard Werner of Leibniz University in Hanover, Germany believes that deciding on funding and hiring, or firing, needs to steer well-clear of impact factors, citations and other kinds of bibliometrics (Werner, R. 2015 The focus on bibliometrics makes papers less useful. Nature, v. 517, p. 245). Scientists cite other works for many reasons, some worthy and some less so. But it is rare that in doing so we express any opinion on the overall significance of the work that we choose to cite. Yet, conversely, a researcher can choose a field, phrase some findings and submit to such and such journal that will boost their citation frequency and impact. Just by writing about some mundane topic in a publicly accessible way, reviewing the work of lots of other people, or simply writing about this or that topic as observed or measured in an especially highly populous country where science is really booming does much the same thing. Werner makes a telling point, ‘When we believe that we will be judged by silly criteria, we will adapt and behave in silly ways’. Although he does not touch on the absurdities of the REF – why on Earth would he? – Werner comments on distortion of the job market, and peer-reviewed journals. He also pleas for a return to proper scrutiny of scientific merit and, I suspect, for cutting hubris off at the roots.

The Montserrat mountains are part of the Pre-Coastal Range of Catalonia in Spain and rise close to the capital Barcelona to form a spectacular backdrop.
Their peculiar pinnacled form results from their comprising tough, well-cemented thick conglomerates, pink in colour and having formed in an early Cenozoic delta. The conglomerates are in very thick, homogeneous beds riven by vertical joints. These two features control the serrated and pinnacled topography, from which is derived the ranges’ Catalan name.

In March 2013 EPN carried an item connected with the abandonment of field training at week-long summer schools by the UK’s Open University. After 40 years of geoscientific summer schools connected with courses at Levels-1, -2 and -3 anonymous performance statistics were available for thousands of students who had studied those OU Earth Science courses that offered summer-school experiences in the field, first as compulsory modules (1971-2001) then as an optional element (2002-2011) and finally with no such provision. The March 2013 item compared statistics for the three kinds of provision. It should be noted that the OU once had possibly the world’s largest throughput of degree-level geoscience students for a single higher educational institution.
After 2001, pass rates feel abruptly and significantly; in the Science Foundation Course the rate fell from an annual average of 69 to 54%, and in level-2 Geology from 65 to 55%. This was accompanied by a significant decrease in enrolment in equally and more popular geoscience courses that had never had a summer school element. The second statistical drop was of the order of 30 to 40%. It seemed that residential schools played a vital role in boosting confidence and reinforcing home studies, as well as transferring practical field skills. After further falls in enrolment since summer schools were removed from the curriculum in 2012, the OU is in the process of completely revising its geoscientific courses and attempting to substitute virtual, on-line field and lab ‘experiences’. Time will tell if it ever manages to reach its former level of success and acceptance
So, discovering that The Geological Society of America had surveyed attendees at its Annual Meetings (Petcovic, H.L. et al. 2014. Geoscientists’ perceptions of the value of undergraduate field education. GSA Today, v. 24 (July 2014), p. 4-10) piqued my interest. Almost 90% of those polled agreed that field studies should be a fundamental requirement of undergraduate programmes; very few agreed that becoming an expert geoscientist is possible without field experience. Field courses develop the skills and knowledge specific to ‘doing’ geoscience; teach integration of fundamental concepts and broaden general understanding of them; inculcate cooperation, time management and independent thinking that have broader applications. Fieldwork also has personal and emotional impacts: reinforcing positive attitudes to the subject; creating a geoscientific esprit de corps; helping students recognise their personal strengths and limitations. Then there is the aspect of enhanced employability, highlighted by all categories of respondents.
Set against these somewhat predictable sentiments among geoscientists are the increasing strains posed by cost, time commitment, and liability, as well as the fact that some potential students do not relish outdoor pursuits. Yet overall the broad opinion was that degree programmes should involve at least one field methods course as a requirement, with other non-compulsory opportunities for more advanced field training
In its 125th year the Geological Society of America is publishing invited reviews of central geoscience topics in its Bulletin. They seem potentially useful for both undergraduate students and researchers as accounts of the ‘state-of-the-art’ and compendia of references. The latest focuses on major controls on past sea-level changes by processes that operate in the solid Earth (Conrad, C.P. 2013. The solid Earth’s influence on sea level. Geological Society of America Bulletin, v. 125, p. 1027-1052), a retrospective look at how geoscientists have understood large igneous provinces (Bryan, S. E. & Ferrari, L. 2013. Large igneous provinces and silicic large igneous provinces: Progress in our understanding over the last 25 years. Geological Society of America Bulletin, v. 125, p. 1053-1078) and the perennial topic of how granites form and end up in intrusions (Brown, M. 2013. Granite: From genesis to emplacement Geological Society of America Bulletin, v. 125, p. 1079-1113).
Sea level change
Conrad covers sea-level changes on the short- (1 to 100 years), medium- (1 to 100 ka) and long term (1 to 100 Ma). The first two mainly result from local deformation of different kinds associated with glacial loading and unloading. These result in changes in the land surface, the sea surface nearby and on thousand year to 100 ka timescales to ups and downs of the sea-bed. Global sea-level changes due to melting of continental glaciers at the present day amount to about half the estimated 2 to 3 mm of rise each year. But increasingly sensitive measures show it is more complex as the rapid shifts of mass involved in melting ice also result in effects on the solid Earth. At present solid mass is being transferred polewards, but at rates that differ in Northern and Southern hemispheres and which are changing with anthropogenic influences on glacial melting. Viscous movement of the solid Earth is so slow that effects from previous glacial-interglacial episodes continue today. As a result rapid elastic movements are tending to produce relative sea-level falls in polar regions of up to 20 mm per year with rising sea level focusing on areas between 30°N and 30°S. The influence of the slower viscous mass transfer has an opposite sense: sea-level rise at high latitudes. Understanding the short- and medium-term controls is vital in predicting issues arising in the near future from natural and anthropogenic change.

Most geologists are concerned in practice with explanations for major sea-level changes in the distant past, which have a great deal to do with changes in the volumes of the ocean basins. If the global sea-floor rises on average water is displaced onto former land to produce transgressions, and subsidence of the sea floor draws water down from the land. Conrad gives a detailed account of what has been going on since the start of the Cretaceous Period, based on the rate of sea-floor spreading, marine volcanism and sedimentation, changes in the area of the ocean basins and the effects of thermally-induced uplift and subsidence of the continents, showing how each contribution acted cumulatively to give the vast transgressions and regressions that affected the late Phanerozoic. On the even longer timescale of opening and closing of oceans and the building and disintegration of supercontinents the entire mantle becomes involved in controls on sea level and a significant amount of water is chemically exchanged with the mantle.
Large igneous provinces
The Web of Science database marks the first appearance in print of “large igneous province” in 1993, so here is a topic that is indeed new, although the single-most important attribute of LIPs, ‘flood basalt’ pops up three decades earlier and the term ‘trap’ that describes their stepped topography is more than a century old. Bryan and Ferrari are therefore charting progress in an exciting new field, yet one that no human – or hominin for that matter – has ever witnessed in action. One develops, on average, every 20 Ma and since they are of geologically short duration long periods pass with little sign of one of the worst things that our planet can do to the biosphere. In the last quarter century it has emerged that they blurt out the products of energy and matter transported as rising plumes from the depths of the mantle; they, but not all, have played roles in mass extinctions; unsuspected reserves of precious metals occur in them; they play some role in the formation of sedimentary basins and maturation of petroleum and it seems other planets have them – a recipe for attention in the early 21st century. Whatever, Bryan and Ferrari provide a mine of geological entertainment.
In comparison, granites have always been part of the geologist’s canon, a perennial source of controversy and celebrated by major works every decade, or so it seems, with twenty thousand ‘hits’ on Web of Science since 1900 (WoS only goes back that far). Since the resolution of the plutonist-neptunist wrangling over granite’s origin one topic that has been returned to again and again is how and where did the melting to form granitic magma take place? If indeed granites did form by melting and not as a result of ‘granitisation. Lions of the science worried at these issues up to the mid 20th century: Bowen, Tuttle, Read, Buddington, Barth and many others are largely forgotten actors, except for the credit in such works as that of Michael Brown. Experimental melting under changing pressure and temperature, partial pressures of water, CO2 and oxygen still go on, using different parent rocks. One long-considered possibility has more or less disappeared: fractional crystallisation from more mafic magma might apply to other silicic plutonic rocks helpfully described as ‘granitic’ or called ‘granitoids’, but granite (sensu stricto) has a specific geochemical and mineralogical niche to which Brown largely adheres. For a while in the last 40 years classification got somewhat out of hand, moving from a mineralogical base to one oriented geochemically: what Brown refers to as the period of ‘Alphabet Granites’ with I-, S- A- and other-type granites. Evidence for the dominance of partial melting of pre-existing continental crust has won-out, and branched into the style, conditions and heat-source of melting.
All agree that magmas of granitic composition are extremely sticky. The chemical underpinnings for that and basalt magma’s relatively high fluidity were established by physical chemist Bernhardt Patrick John O’Mara Bockris (1923-2013) but barely referred to, even by Michael Brown. Yet that high viscosity has always posed a problem for the coalescence of small percentages of melt into the vast blobs of low density liquid able to rise from the deep crust to the upper crust. Here are four revealing pages and ten more on how substantial granite bodies are able to ascend, signs that the puzzle is steadily being resolved. Partial melting implies changes in the ability of the continental crust to deform when stressed, and this is one of the topics on which Brown closes his discussion, ending, of course, on a ‘work in progress’ note that has been there since the days of Hutton and Playfair.

Because it is the ultimate historical discipline, the essence of geology centres on time, measuring its passage and establishing correlations in time on a global scale so that an interlinked story of Earth evolution can be told. In fact geology is not just about a record of what happened in the four dimensions of place and time; it is a great deal more multidimensional, involving temperature, strain, chemistry, erosion, deposition, sea-level , the course of life and much more besides. Ever more multifaceted and, sadly, divided into subdisciplines and interfaces with other aspects of natural science that few if any individuals can grasp, an almost legally enforceable set of rules is needed to keep the order orderly. Unlike history and more akin to archaeology geological time is of two kinds, its precisely quantitative measure being a relative newcomer.
Since it emerged in the Enlightenment that began in the late 17th century geology has been dominated by a relative sense of timing: Steno’s Law of Superposition, and those relating to deformation, igneous eructations, erosion and deposition, first addressed systematically by James Hutton, being the most familiar. The notion of an absolute time scale into which events separated relative to one another could be fitted with confidence is a real latecomer. Although first attempted between 1650 and 1654 by Archbishop of Armagh James Ussher – he reckoned from the Old Testament that everything began at dusk on Saturday 22 October 4004 BCE – the only useful and broadly believable approach to absolute time has been based on the decay of radioactive isotopes incorporated into minerals once they had formed within a rock. But that is no panacea for the simple reason that most of them form through igneous or metamorphic processes and only rarely in the course of sedimentation. It also has only become reliable and precise in the last two or three decades.
Tying together global records of all the kinds of process that have made, shaped and changed the Earth has therefore become an increasingly complex blend between local relative dating, burgeoning regional to global means of correlation and the odd point in absolute time. What has arisen is a dual system that, if truth were told, is often used in a cavalier fashion. Equally to the point, the rules have of late become unfit for purpose and are in need of revision, which is a task for the Time Lords, properly known as the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS). The trouble is, the rules have themselves evolved somewhat episodically while their subject is appropriately in continual motion and change, if not anarchic. To the outsider things can seem very odd indeed. Most reasonably well-read souls will have heard of the Cambrian and the Jurassic, largely because of the popularity of trilobites that blossomed in the one and dinosaurs that strutted the land in the other. What is less well known is that the two names have different usages as adjectives: one to signify an interval of time called a Period, the other a System of essentially piled-up sedimentary rocks.
There are greater dualisms that group the Period/System divisions: the largest Eon/Eonothem groupings of Archaean, Proterozoic and Phanerozoic; the Era/Erathem signifiers such as Palaeoproterozoic, Mesozoic and Cenozoic. Incidentally, the time between the formation of the Earth and the first palpable rocks, from about 4550 to 4000 Ma, has been called the Hadean but has no designated status, possibly because it has no rock record whatsoever. Divisions of Periods/Systems apply only to the time since fossils became abundant 541 Ma ago, and in order of fineness of division are Epoch/Series and Age/Stage. Example of the first can be Lower, Middle and Upper – to spice things up, Middle maybe omitted from some Periods/Systems – or they might be given names derived from type areas, such as the ever popular Llandovery at the base of the Silurian Period/System. Helpfully, the Cambrian contains Terreneuvian, Series 2, Series 3 and Furongian from early to late/bottom to top. The final global division has always floored undergraduates and shows little sign of relief – there are a great many Ages/Stages, in fact a round 100 (I may have miscounted), 98 with names, 2 currently unnamed and 4 in the Cambrian called Stages 2 to 5: confusing, that… has anyone spoken of the Stage 3 Stage or the Stage 5 Age of the Cambrian?
Worryingly, in my hasty overview of the ICS International Stratigraphic Chart above I have reversed the official designation of chronstratigraphic/geochronological nomenclature: is this likely to have me committed to the geoscientific equivalent of Guantanamo Bay, or merely limbo?
I have by no means exhausted officialise. Readers may not be surprised to learn that the Time Lords have bent Heaven and Earth literally to concretise the double entendres of geology. The base of almost every Age/Stage in the Phanerozoic Eonothem/Eon is defined at a suitably agreed point on the ground by, in a few cases, a real golden spike (I may be mistaken on this, as the only one I tried to visit was at the base of a Welsh cliff suitable only to be visited by – in the timeless phrase – ‘a strong party’). More prosaically there are monuments of various ethically appealing designs that go by the sonorous name Global Boundary Stratotype Section and Point. I have it on reasonably good authority that ICS delegates have, on occasion, needed to be physically restrained from fist fights over which nation shall host a particular GSSP (the ‘B’ in the acronym is aspirated).
This is the point that all readers will have been waiting for: it has been suggested to ICS that the whole edifice is looked at very closely and perhaps revised (Zalasiewicz, J, et al. 2013. Chronostratigraphy and geochronology: A proposed realignment. GSA Today, v. 23 (March 2013), p. 4-8). For professionals this is an obligatory read, for others optional: there is no excuse as it is downloadable for free – click on the title. While you are about it, you can also download from GSA Today the famous proposal for an entirely new series/epoch called the Anthropocene (see also A sign of the times: the ‘Anthropocene’ in EPN issue of May 2011)
Despite global recession, worldwide job opportunities for geoscientists are increasing faster than the number of available applicants. In the US the Bureau of Labor Statistics predicts 21% growth in this sector in 2010-2020 (Perkins, S. 2011. Geosciences: Earth works. Nature, v. 473, p. 243–244). That figure does not include jobs freed-up by retirement: the demographics of employed geoscientists in the petroleum and mining industries are skewed markedly to the over-40s, peaking at age 50.
The American Geological Institute’s Geoscience Workforce Program has reported that the regions that produce most geoscience graduates, the US, Europe, Russia and China, are not meeting their domestic needs let alone global requirements. The demand stems from the traditional petroleum and mineral industries that are booming, together with the renewable energy sector and growing concern about environmental hazards and impacts attending global warming.
An editorial (Rare Earth scientists) in the December 2012 issue of Nature Geoscience is headlined, ‘Not enough young people enter the geosciences. A passion for the subject should be sparked early on.’ It then comments that the decline in young people studying the geosciences at school stems from Earth science not being taken seriously, under-education of their teachers and budgetary sacrifice of geoscience to preserve the more ‘traditional’ science subjects. The leading article concludes, ‘On an increasingly vulnerable planet, governments need to teach the young people of their country an understanding of the Earth’s basic make-up and dynamics, along with inspiring a fascination for its age and beauty. How else can we expect humanity to survive the Anthropocene?’

For over 40 years the Open University has been a key UK educator in geoscience. Since 1971 a total of about 170 thousand, mainly British students have studied at home through the OU for a science-based degree. Discovering tectonics, Earth structure, geology and palaeontology through studying the Science Foundation Course must have been a thrilling experience because since 1972, when the OU began to offer a level-2 course in Geology, around 30 thousand of its science ‘beginners’ decided to find out more; an average enrolment of 760 per year. The OU’s Department of Earth Sciences added more level-2 courses so that by 2000, students could also study economic geology (The Earth’s Physical Resources – 18 500 students from 1974 to 2009, averaging 544 per year), planetary science (The Earth: Structure, Composition and Evolution- 14 100 students from 1981 to 2005, averaging 590 per year) and Earth-system science (Earth and Life –7121 students from 1997 to 2006, averaging 712 per year).
After 1981 Open University students could, and many did, aim for a geoscience-oriented degree that also took in three, more advanced, level-3 studies. These were Oceanography (12 121 students from 1989 to 2012, averaging 505 per year), stratigraphy (The Geological Record of Environmental Change – 7968 students from 1976 to 2012, averaging 295 per year) and Earth’s internal processes (Understanding the Continents – 6994 students from 1976 to 2012, averaging 259 per year).
In this way the Open University became one of the world’s largest single providers of geoscience education, if not the largest: in the whole of the United States fewer than 3000 first degrees majoring in geoscience are awarded annually. Yet from its inception the OU’s Department of Earth Sciences had never claimed to be training professional geologists: had it been, its graduates would have significantly affected the world’s employment opportunities in the discipline. In fact that claim could never have been made, for one simple reason: distance learning for part-time students would always struggle to provide the volume of hands-on practical training that is the quintessence of this pre-eminently field- and lab-based discipline. Nevertheless the OU’s range of residential schools where practical activities were intensively provided for went a good way towards filling this gap.

So, to those unfamiliar with the realities of the OU milieu it will seem odd that in 2012 the world’s largest provider of distance learning axed all residential courses right across the science spectrum, including those in practical geoscience. But to those directly involved this move was the logical final step in a series of changes since 2001. Before that, for those courses that included a residential component attendance had been compulsory, except in special circumstances. Yet after 2001 university authorities deemed that the residential schools continue only as optional components for degree study and should carry an additional registration fee. Not surprisingly, in the case of the core level-2 Geology course attendance at the re-branded residential school declined to 30% after 2001.
Two other important developments attended this change in the Earth Science degree programme. After 2001 pass rates fell abruptly. For example, in the Science Foundation Course the rate fell from an annual average of 69 to 54%, and in level-2 Geology from 65 to 55%. Because residential schools played a vital role in boosting confidence and reinforcing home studies, equally as important as transferring practical skills, this dramatic fall in performance was only too predictable.
The other post-2001 development was an across-the-board fall in new registrants for Earth Science level-2 courses, especially in those that had previously not been served by residential studies: The Earth: Structure, Composition and Evolution from a pre-2001 average of 680 per year to 470 thereafter; Earth and Life from 866 to 558; The Earth’s Physical Resources from 795 to 456. The majority of those who enrolled for these courses having previously studied the core Geology course such dramatic declines are easily explained. Those who had opted out of the residential course missed its undoubted boost to confidence and enthusiasm, and reinforcement in basic geoscientific principles. More likely to underperform in the Geology course, they would not have felt equipped to deal with other level-2 courses, and ‘voted with their feet’.
Since its launch, The Earth’s Physical Resources course had been acclaimed by geoscience teachers internationally for having made economic geology fascinating rather than a chore. In 2005-7 it had been completely refurbished and rising registrations bucked the downward trend. Yet in 2009, it was axed with little discussion. Declining enrolment for The Earth and Earth and Life prompted management to withdraw both and combine parts of their content in a single course Our Dynamic Planet: Earth and Life. Launched in 2007, by 2012 it attracted a mere 217 applicants. In 2013 it too will be withdrawn from the curriculum.
In late 2010 the OU’s Department of Earth Sciences held a celebration of its 40-year existence; yet only a year later in 2011 the department that had brought plate tectonics, advanced palaeontology, unravelling past climates, physical resources; planetary science and much besides to the widest student audience ever achieved ceased to be. It was merged into a restructured entity called the Department of Environment, Earth and Ecosystems. There seems to have been a failure of nerve and leadership that may have important consequences not only for the future of geoscience as a discipline and among the wider public but for the very knowledge necessary for our national and human survival. The future availability of remaining geoscience courses is uncertain, with all being expected to start for the last time within the next year or two. Perhaps some major transformation to meet increased needs for general public awareness of the way our planet works is being planned: let’s hope so and that any new offerings have as much impact as the earlier courses did before the start of the 21st century. It will be a hard task, as the Open University tripled its fees for students entering the OU system from 2012 onwards.
NOTE: (added 11 February 2013) The Open University has been offered the right of reply to this item.
A measure of the esteem in which a peer-reviewed paper is held is supposedly the number of times to which it is referred in other papers. Of course, the older a paper is the more chance that such citations will have built up; but the annual rate of citation is likely to fizzle out over time. Papers that create a frisson of initial excitement and command enduring citation are few and far between: they probably launched a new line of inquiry.
It is instructive to try to nail Alfred Wegener’s influence in tectonics using the Web of Science, which ought to have been pretty high. Superficially, he had none and is remembered through that arm of Thomson Reuters for six papers: four on atmospheric physics – his speciality; one on lunar craters and a sixth on the patterns of cracking seen on rotten wood. These give him a mere 20 citations. Wegener’s posthumous problem was that Die Entstehung der Kontinente first appeared in the fourth issue of Geologische Rundshau in 1912, and seemingly the Web of Science doesn’t have that journal in its archives of a century ago. Later, extended editions appeared in book format which were not peer reviewed (most geoscientists would not touch his ideas with a barge pole until long after his death in 1930), and are therefore outside the academic pale. The key to a plausible mechanism for continental drift – symmetrical magnetic striping above ocean basins – was first described by Fred Vine and Drummond Matthews in an issue of Nature in 1963. In 50 years their work, ranking with discovering the structure of DNA, has accumulated 709 citations; i.e. 38.5 citations per year on average, which is not much for fuelling a revolution.

Of course, citation is not the same as the frequency at which a paper is read. It is no secret that a not inconsiderable number of papers that appear in published reference lists haven’t been read by the authors who cite them. They are there by proxy, and you will probably find them in the bibliography of later papers that those same authors have cited. There is perhaps a certain kudos in such proxy citations, for it may be that the cited paper has achieved the equivalent of canonical status in the field.
Citation frequency is something of a lottery: language of publication; discipline (since 1953 Crick and Watson achieved three times Vine and Matthews’s average citations); date of publication (E. Komatsu of the University of Texas at Austin has already had 1939 citations for his February 2011 paper ‘Seven-Year Wilkinson Microwave Anisotropy Probe Observations: Cosmological Interpretations’ published in a supplement to the Astrophysical Journal; nine times the rate of Crick and Watson, but the paper is about the origin of everything)
Interestingly, the December 2012 issue of Geology presents stats on the most cited papers that it has published since 2000 (Cowie, P.A. 2012. Highly cited Geology papers (2000-2010) – What were they and who wrote them? Geology, v. 40, p. 1147-1148). Geology is among the highest ranking journals in the geoscience field, and had an impact factor of 4.8 over the last 5 years. A journal’s impact factor is the number of times all articles published in a 2-year period were cited in all indexed journals in the year following them, divided by the total number of articles published in the two years by the assessed journal. So, papers published in Geology between2007 and 2011 were cited on average 4.8 times in the year following publication. This journal is a useful source of citation statistics as it covers the full range of geoscience and all papers are limited to 4 printed pages, thereby forcing authors to be concise and clear in their writing and illustration. Consequently it is popular, which, incidentally, may explain its high impact factor.
Of the 33 papers cited most between 2000 and 2010, 14 are on topics relating to Tibet and China. There are 3 on oceanography; 3 on paleontology and extinctions; 6 on palaeoclimatology; 10 on tectonics and 10 on magmatism (3 of which were about rare adakites formed by partial melting of subducted oceanic crust). I haven’t read all of the papers, and the stats on topics may tell us very little, but I would bet that papers about geology in high-population emerging countries – China, India and Brazil – are met gleefully by rapidly growing communities of eager young geoscientists. It may even be worth a flutter on adakites as the ‘next big thing’ in petrogenesis. Mind you, it looks like I am not likely to be the best punter for hot papers, as out of the 33 ‘top-3’ papers since 2000, only 6 made it into Earth Pages, and of those only one between 2004-2010.
The digest goes on to show that year-by-year as many as 10 % of papers in Geology are not cited at all, up to 70% are cited between 1 and 5 times per year, while less than 10% get 10 or more citations in a year. Oddly, the author suggests that a dip in citations of Geology papers in recent years may reflect the launch of Nature Geoscience in 2008. Yet glossy as that new addition to the Nature stable might be, it has become something of a desert for papers on geology. Then there is evidence for both ‘vintage’ and ‘just-about-drinkable’ years in Geology citations: the ‘top ten’ papers in 2001, 2005, 2006, 2008 and 2010 ranged from 10-15 citations for the tenth to 20-25 for the ‘hottest’ paper, while in 2000, 2002, 2003, 2004, 2007 and 2009 the most cited papers stood well above the rest at 32 to 55 citations per year. But that may just reflect the uneven pace at which well-received and provocative work emerges.
So, it begins to seem, from Geology at least, that for most geoscience authors publishing isn’t going to raise much hope as far as jobs or promotions are concerned. Yet if results are not published funding agencies may become fractious about your next grant application, and of course, university science departments puff themselves with annual publication rates (though rarely citation records, which as far as geosciences goes could be a wise move). But it is a matter of academic duty to publish for the record; even if a paper fills just one tiny niche the cumulative effect of publically available knowledge does eventually result in breaks through – one never knows… It could be a salutary lesson should publishers release data on hits for on-line PDFs of papers, as that would give some indication of how many readers individual papers have, but as for a ‘like this’ button or a means of star rating I think we have to venture into the deeper recesses of academic conservatism one small step at a time.
Neanderthal ‘high-carb’ diet and self-medication

There is no doubt that the reconstruction of DNA from Neanderthal and Denisovan fossils is the most important forensic breakthrough as regards hominin evolution and relationships, but another approach has is starting to shed light on past lifestyles. Most workers have regarded Neanderthals as being predominantly meat-eaters from the evidence for their big-game hunting feats. In an attempt to get close to their actual diet some researchers have begun to exploit the lack of dental hygiene among fossil hominins: many teeth bear plaque or dental calculus (hardy, K. and 16 others 2012. Neanderthal medics? Evidence for food, cooking, and medicinal plants entrapped in dental calculus. Naturwissenschaften, v. 99, p. 617-626). Karen Hardy of the Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona and British, Spanish and Australian colleagues used gas chromatography and mass spectrometry and analysis of trapped microfossils in Neanderthal teeth to explore their everyday lives.
The results show signs of wood smoke: a good indicator of cooking and perhaps smoke preservation. Bitumen traces help confirm its use in hafting tools. But the most interesting feature is the consistent identification of cooked carbohydrate residues, enzyme activity on which would have produced the sugars strongly implicated in the formation of substantial plaque deposits. The data suggest that nuts, grass seeds, and possibly even green vegetables were a major part of the Neanderthal diet, A fascinating outcome is the discovery of molecules of the compounds that confer bitterness on a number of herbs with known medicinal properties, such as yarrow and chamomile. That does not prove that Neanderthals were accomplished herbalists, for many primates seek out such plants when feeling ill and even domestic cats will be seen eating grass if they have digestive problems or worms. Yet practical knowledge of herbal remedies cannot be ruled out. This novel, hi-tech approach to life-style analysis will surely blossom for most fossilized hominin dentition bears plenty of plaque. We await with interest the first signs of regular use of tooth-cleaning with woody fibres.
Neanderthals and Aurignacians survived massive volcanic disaster
About 39 thousand years ago the famous volcanic field of the Campi Flegrei west of Naples underwent a massive explosive eruption that created a huge ash plume whose deposition blanketed most of southeastern and eastern Europe with the Campanian Ignimbrite. The ashfall and the probable disruption of climate and ecosystems over a number of years would have greatly stressed both Neanderthal and modern human (Aurignacian) populations of the area. There are a few sites in the Ukraine and Russia where tools occur below, within and above the ash deposit, but little to suggest the extent to which both populations were affected. However, tangible ash deposits are not the only evidence for volcanic events in human history: fine ash would have permeated everything during the eruption. A host of European geologists and archaeologists have sought microscopic evidence of the Campanian Ignimbrite in sediments within caves that were occupied at this time (Lowe, J. and 41 others 2012. Volcanic ash layers illuminate the resilience of Neanderthals and early modern humans to natural hazards. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences doi/10.1073/pnas.1204579109): ignimbrite events are signified in cave deposits by ash dominated by minute glassy shards, whose shape is distinctive. The study was able to show that although the effects of the 39 ka eruption must have been devastating for local humans, both groups pulled through. The fact that Neanderthals survived the eruption and attendant prolonged climatic cooling suggests indirectly that their eventual demise was probably not a result of ecological disaster and more likely to have reflected their incapacity to compete successfully with the Aurignacian and later fully-modern human cultures.
Quite a crowd

Who was the earliest human? Initially this accolade went to Homo habilis, first found by Louis Leakey at Olduvai Gorge, Tanzania in 2 Ma old sediments. Similar fossils turned up at Koobi Fora on the shores of Lake Turkana (formerly Lake Rudolr) in Kenya also thanks to the Leakey dynasty. Yet as more remains of that antiquity were found differences among them began to emerge, which some ascribed to different species and others to effects of sexual dimorphism among H. habilis. The majority view emerged of two distinct species H. habilis and ergaster but the possibility of a third cohabiting member of the early East African human family was clung to in the shape of the single-fossil ‘H. rudolfensis’ . There the issue stood for more than two decades. Then, in the manner of London Transport, fossils of three individual humans were unearthed at Koobi Fora by the determined Leakey family (Leakey, M.G. et al. 2012. New fossils from Koobi Fora in northern Kenya confirm taxonomic diversity in early Homo. Nature, v. 488, p. 201-204). They seem to have confirmed three separate cohabiting species of human in Kenya in the period between 1.8 and 2.0 Ma: habils, rudolfensis and erectus/ergaster. Now, this is quite odd as the threefold morphological distinction ought to reflect three lifestyles sufficiently different to support the species over several hundred thousand years. Hopefully, there are teeth and dental plaque…

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)?

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.

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.
In 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/).
On 11 May 2011, the Geological Society of London hosted a conference, co-sponsored by the British Geological Survey, to discuss evidence for the dawn of a new geological Epoch: the Anthropocene, supposed to mark the impact on the Earth of our species. The Society, and no doubt others internationally, is interested in gathering thoughts, reflections and observations about the Anthropocene. There is indeed a a powerful and vocal, though not necessarily large, lobby directed at the International Commission on Stratigraphy (ICS) to enshrine this new division. That lobby has been active since 2000 (see: No escape from global warming; Changing the world; Epoch, Age, Zone or Nonsense in EPN issues of November 2000, April 2005 and March 2008 respectively)
We currently live in the Holocene (‘entirely recent’), an Epoch with ICS imprimatur. Yet the last 11.7 ka has been but one of very many interglacials since about 2.6 Ma ago; the start of the Pleistocene Epoch and the Quaternary Period – Arduino’s last surviving division of geological time, and lately resurrected from an untimely demise! The ‘golden spike’ for the Pleistocene/Holocene boundary is at the agreed combination of signals – ‘deuterium excess values, accompanied by more gradual changes in 18O, dust concentration, a range of chemical species, and annual layer thickness’ – of the end of the Younger Dryas/Greenland Stadial 1 in a single Greenland ice core (NGRIP) held in a cold store in Copenhagen.
The Holocene itself was based on anthropocentric grounds; i.e. it roughly coincides with the transition from human foraging to sedentary life, agriculture, the relentless development of exploitation of the majority of humans and the commodification of the physical and organic environments following the Younger Dryas stadial. I guess that paraphrases how the ‘Anthropocene’ is proposed to be defined – a signal of the beginning of irreversible global change due to human activities whose future we cannot predict.
Even if it was possible to agree on some definitive signal of the onset of human-induced global change in the geological record there remains the formal difficulty for the ICS of agreeing on the location as well as the age and likely durability of the GSSP that would mark the beginning of the ‘Anthropocene’. The originator of the idea, Nobel Prize winning chemist Paul Crutzen, argued vaguely for the ‘start of the Industrial Revolution’. Recently it has been proposed by some to be 6 August 1945 marked by long-lived radioactive fallout from the atomic massacres of civilians at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Quaternary researchers decided some time back that the ‘present’ (as in ‘before present’ or b.p.) should be the year 1950 when atmospheric testing of thermonuclear weapons created excess 14C that will make radiocarbon dating of the next 50 ka somewhat more uncertain than it otherwise would have been. The ICS may well have a lengthy debate on its hands if the proposal ever reaches its deliberations.
Furthermore, the advocates are concerned that we are living in the transition into their ‘Anthropocene’ and that it will be so rapid and biologically disastrous as to manifest itself in stratigraphic sections of the future as a mass-extinction event. No previous mass extinction event has been allocated epochal status, being so brief, though never so brief (~10 ka) as the Holocene or any other interglacial of the past 2.6 Ma.
All that I can conclude is that should there still be geologists in, say, a million years time, who will be living in conditions and possessing intellects about which we would be ill advised to guess, they will still be in awe of the vast tracts of geological time and their stratigraphic and tectonic records over the last 4.55 Ga. Consequently, it is possible that they may well regard the then ancient proposal for an ‘Anthropocene’ as premature, hubristic and not a little reminiscent of the fable of Chicken Little; a humorous legacy of their somewhat startled predecessors. By all means let us be concerned about and take action to halt adverse human influences on the planet, but sloganeering to climb aboard a bandwagon does neither. At the Geological Society meeting, Paul Crutzen observed “… it will probably take another 20 years before it is formally accepted.” Thank goodness for a sense of reality: we may all be extinct by then…
Added 12 August 2011: Between 11.5 and 3.5 ka the greatest event in the evolution of modern humans took place on all continents except Australia and Antarctica; a foraging lifestyle gave way to settlement and the domestication of both plants and animals – the Neolithic Agricultural Revolution. The production of surplus value, stored in the form of livestock herds and grain, marked by this transition set humanity on the road to its current social, ecological and economic crisis. Interestingly, William Ruddiman of the University of Virginia in 2005 noted a shift in the CO2 content of glacial ice around 8 ka, which he ascribed to intense farming and suggested that if there were to be an Anthropocene Epoch it should coincide with the start of agriculture. Combining geological and societal factors points unerringly to the start of the Holocene, so there is little need for a new Epoch. That sensible view receives support from a palaeo-demographic survey of 133 burial sites in the Northern Hemisphere: some before the local transition to agriculture, others following it (Boquet-Appel, J.-P. 2011. When the world’s population took off: the springboard of the Neolithic demographic transition. Science, v. 333, p. 560-561). The proportion of 5 to 19 year-old remains in the cemeteries shows a marked rise in the thousand years after the first local signs of agriculture thereafter to stabilise at a new higher level. This indicates a significant increase in female fertility, perhaps by as much as two births per woman. That would set in train the relentless, 1200-fold rise in world population from the estimated 6 million at the start of the Holocene to 7 billion at present.
Related articles
EPN might seem to include a disproportionate number of items on hominin evolution, including several on genetic evidence. An outcome of the Earth System’s 4.5 billion-year evolution increasingly depending on physical resources, we lie at the focus of our own curiosity studying the past primarily for ourselves. That is why the discovery from the partial genome of Neanderthal remains that all humans outside those who live in Africa carry in our DNA the ‘fruits’ of intimate relations with Neanderthals is surely the most explosive development of the 21st century so far (see Yes, it seems that they did…in May 2010 issue of EPN). It is deepened by the publication in late 2010 (Reich, D and 27 others 2010. Genetic history of an archaic hominin group from Denisova Cave in Siberia. Nature, v. 468, p. 1053-1060) of genetic findings from remains of a third distinct hominin group that inhabited central Siberia 30 to 50 ka ago (see Other rich hominin pickings in the May 2010 issue of EPN). [Thanks go to Dr Bill Deller, legal historian, for alerting me to this.] The DNA from a tooth and a finger bone show that the individual female was genetically neither a fully modern human nor a Neanderthal in a statistical sense, but parts of the sequence, as with the Neanderthal genome, pop up in the genomes of living people. The ‘Denisovan’ signature – the authors do not assign the female to a new species – contributes 4 to 6 % of the genomes of present-day inhabitants of Papua-New Guinea and other Melanesian people of the Pacific north of Australia, but appears in no others. Since Melanesians carry some Neanderthal genetic material the new finding can be interpreted as the result of similar interfertile mating between the ‘Denisovans’ and a limited group of early fully human travellers who crossed central Asia and eventually moved through Indonesia to cross the West Pacific to Papua-New Guinea and Melanesia about 45 ka ago. For up to a twentieth of the genetic outcome of such liaisons to survive to the present suggests no idle dalliance, but proportionately common relationships.
Denisovans shared a common ancestor with Neanderthals and ourselves, but seem to have followed a separate evolutionary path. Analysis of their DNA suggests that they diverged from Neanderthals around 640 ka and from modern Africans around 800 ka. Although these ‘molecular clock’ dates show considerable uncertainty, they extend back to a period when fossil evidence suggests the presence in Europe and Africa of Homo heidelbergensis and H. erectus respectively. The molar tooth has a morphology similar to African H. erectus and to even earlier hominins, but distinct from the teeth of Neanderthals and fully modern humans. Could the ‘Denisovans’ represent a distinct wave of emigrants from Africa? Some hominin fossils from China are dissimilar to Neanderthals and Asian H. erectus and efforts will certainly be made to establish their genetic make-up. For the moment, these findings deny any simple linear explanation for the ‘Out-of-Africa’ movement of people. Equally important, and the reason why the researchers refuse to assign the ‘Denisovans’ to a new species, is that interfertility is generally accepted as the sign of mating between members of the same species. To some extent this harks back to the ideas of the ecologist Jonathan Kingdon (Kingdon, J. 1993, Self-made Man and His Undoing. Simon & Schuster: London) that humans are a line that did not speciate over the last couple of million years, but show morphological differences that arose within the growing protection from selection pressures conferred by the use and development of tools. Kingdon’s parsimonious approach to human evolution found little favour with palaeoanthropologists, perhaps because of the kudos associated with finding and naming new species.
See also: Callaway, E. 2010. Fossil genome reveals ancestral link. Nature, v. 468, p. 1012; Bustamante, C.D. & Henn, B.M. 2010. Shadows of early migrations. Nature, v. 468, p. 1044-1045.
Perhaps it is a generational thing, stemming from popular science fiction and scientists’ speculation in the 1970s and 80s, that has encouraged the growth of exo-, xeno- and astrobiology as subdisciplines. There is a certain sadness in that all practitioners can do at present is examine the organic diversity offered by our home world and speculate about alien life forms based on that terrestrial evidence. The Earth offers plenty of scope for studying the biologically odd and awesome, especially among prokaryotes, as there are extremophiles of all kinds: the hot, the cold and the deep biospheres. But all are based on the nucleic acids shared by all life on Earth; traces of familiar amino acids occur far and wide in the cosmos, but none whatsoever of anything more complicated that could source self-replication and evolution. So it was in a mood of solemn gaiety that EPN greeted the hint of truly alien life forms among us by NASA press officers in November. It turned out to presage a paper concerning bacteria peculiar to Mono Lake in California (Wolfe-Simon, F. And 11 others 2010. A bacterium that can grow by using arsenic instead of phosphorus. Science Express, DOI:10.1126/science.1197258). The paper hinted at arsenic being used to substitute for phosphorus in the structure of nucleic acids in the bacterium when it lived in low-phosphate environments. The paper’s substance was culturing the bacterium in vitro in increasingly P-deficient water that also contained arsenic. If replicable the notion of arsenic-DNA would seem to be pretty startling, but the paper faced a storm of adverse comment.
A crucial feature of the DNA molecule is the bond between the sugar of one nucleotide and the phosphate group of another. As any geochemist knows, it is possible for elements to substitute for one another if they have similar atomic properties. Arsenic, being adjacent to phosphorus in the same group of the periodic table, is a potential substitute – arsenate for phosphate, although the former is far less stable than phosphate. Wolfe-Simon’s team is not claiming the peculiar bacterium as a candidate for alien life forms, but that is the spin widely being put on their work. All they suggest is that some bacteria can survive high-As low-P conditions and may be found in chemically highly toxic environments elsewhere. Since the cosmic abundance of arsenic is about three orders of magnitude less than that of phosphorus it is unlikely that alien genetic material somehow uses arsenic in its architecture. Besides, why should DNA be the sole basis for self-replication, the essence of truly living beings?
Added 14 January 2011: Science gave Felisa Wolfe-Simon the opportunity to reply to critics (Pennisi, E. 2010. Discoverer asks for time, patience over arsenic bacteria controversy. Science, v. 330, p. 1734-1735). Personally, I sympathise with the beleaguered team: on the launch of Stepping Stones in 1999 I was pestered continuously by journalists from both low- and highbrow newspapers. In that case I had made a joke that perhaps the human coughing reflex had stemmed from ancestral reptiles that survived the Permian-Triassic mass extinction and the emissions of the Siberian Traps: the journalists actually believed it
See also: Pennisi, E. 2010. What Poison? Bacterium uses arsenic to build DNA and other molecules. Science, v. 330, p. 1302.
Every geoscientist will salute the fortitude and bravery of the 33 Chilean miners rescued from a refuge 700 m below ground, that of the 5 volunteer rescuers who descended the 80 cm shaft, not knowing whether it was safe and the skills of voluntary engineers whose drill managed to find the small refuge, despite its depth. Many geologists have been in underground mines, though only a minority have worked in them, but all admire the mental and physical resilience of the 33. Trapped by the caved-in access tunnel on 5 August, the miners faced and survived 17 days with fading lamps and tiny supplies of food and liquids. The final rescue came with remarkable swiftness during 13-14 October. Apart from one with a chest infection all seemed little the worse for wear. The growing tension during the rescue was almost palpable, even at a distance of more than 11 000 km: would the narrow tunnel collapse; would the rescue shuttle jam? The likelihood of either grew with each rescue.
The rise in gold and copper price since the global crash of 2008 has seen the reopening of dozens of once uneconomic mines, kept for years on a ‘care and maintenance’ basis. Not knowing when the metal-price boom would collapse, mine owners have rushed to restart operations, paying locally premium wages to attract miners. The San José mine near Copiapo, was one such mine, whose fabric had deteriorated after years of neglect. It would be unsurprising if another disaster, with less happy outcomes, occurred during the current metal-mining boom.
Added 26/11/2010. So soon after such a victory over being buried alive for so long, it is especially tragic to learn that the methane explosion of 19 November in New Zealand’s largest coalmine at Pike River on the South Island killed 29 miners. They were declared dead after a second explosion on 24 November. Today a third blast ripped through the mine not long before a memorial service was to be held, vindicating the decision not to send in rescue parties as soon as the initial explosion took place. Inevitably, there will be a major inquiry into how such a build-up of explosive gas could possibly have gone unnoticed.
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.
Because of the horrific events at the end of 2004, this is not a time to celebrate geoscientific achievements during the year that has passed.
Unlike the collapse of Manhattan’s Twin Towers on 11 September 2001 the world’s cameras were unable to focus on the minutiae of terrible events around the rim of the northern Indian Ocean. They did not catch the sudden dawning of fear, but the tsunamis of 26 December 2004 were witnessed by millions of coast dwellers in Indonesia, SW Thailand, Sri Lanka, eastern India and as far away as Somalia, Tanzania and Kenya. At the time of writing the death toll had reached 150 thousand, but it will rise inexorably, and countless people’s lives will be blighted for years to come. The world did change on Boxing Day 2004 in a way that dwarfs the events of “9/11”. The majority of those swept in minutes into a debris-loaded sea were among the poorest of their communities, and the dead are dominated by children and old people who simply did not have the strength to save themselves. News came first from popular tourist resorts dotted on palm-fringed beaches, through cell phones and from hastily shot videos of what must at first have seemed a curiosity. Before great waves appeared, the sea drew back to leave fish flapping on beaches, which local children rushed to gather as an unexpected benefice. Ocean waves driven by great seismic events have immense wavelengths, so previously unseen sea floor lingered for 10 to 20 minutes before devastating surges suddenly rose above the horizon..
Off the western coast of Sumatra, a subduction-zone thrust displaced the sea floor by several metres, into which an unimaginable tonnage of ocean rushed. Its rebound set in motion the most devastating natural phenomena, yet on the open ocean their passage would have been imperceptible because of their broad wavelength. Unlike wind-waves, tsunamis travel extremely fast, around 400 km per hour; they are seismic disturbances affecting the entire water body. The further they travel the greater the volume they affect, so they dissipate with distance. Two days after the initial shock, sea-level rose perceptibly in California, half a world away. When tsunamis meet shallows, the frictional effect causes the wave to slow, rise and steepen. The wave breaks far offshore in shallow water, resulting in a surge that rises inexorably on land. It rips up sea-floor materials, including boulders where they are present. Damage and deaths result mainly from the backwash that can rip debris and victims several kilometres out to sea, until the next tsunami arrives, and in this case there were at least three. We have all seen the aftermath, like nuclear devastation but not sterile. Debris, rotting flesh and sewage breed disease, and as many may die from cholera, insect-borne disease and exposure as perished on Boxing Day morning.
The magnitude of the Sumatran sea-quake was 9.0 on the Richter Scale. That is a logarithmic measure of the ground displacement, so that for every increase of 1.0 in magnitude ground motion increases by 10 times. However, it is the energy released that damages and the corresponding increase is 32 times. The Sumatran sea-quake was the largest recorded since that off Alaska in 1964 (magnitude 9.2) and the fourth largest in a century. Tsunamis generated off Alaska reached a height of over 60 metres close to the epicentre, but they travelled parallel to the coast of the Americas and caused only 130 deaths. Those of 26 December 2004 hit land head on, and there are large, densely populated coastal tracts around the Indian Ocean that are below 10 m above mean sea level. Buildings, particularly for poor people, are fragile and lightweight, so the devastation was almost total, unlike the effects of on-land earthquakes. In their case, single-storey dwellings that are little more than wood and grass structures cause less deaths than in areas with multi-storey dwellings made of stone or concrete, and the effects are localised.
The US National Oceanographic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) is responsible for tsunamis warnings for the eastern Pacific (http://wcatwc.gov/), which are issued in the same way as extreme weather warnings. Other organisations maintain a permanent watch and warning service for the entire Pacific basin, which is surrounded by the majority of the world’s large earthquake zones, mainly connected to subduction, and is the most prone to tsunamis. Using bathymetry and landmasses, it is possible to model in detail the wavefronts of tsunamis and their travel times for any circum-Pacific earthquake. So adequate warning is possible for most coastal areas following a major earthquake. The Indian Ocean has only one major, tectonically dangerous plate margin, where the Indian Plate drives beneath Eurasia to form the Sunda Trench off the Indonesian archipelago. Although discussed as recently as mid-2004, no tsunami-warning service is in place for the Indian Ocean. One reason given for this lack of foresight is that the north-western part of the Sunda Arc has had little major seismicity for more than 150 years. Therein lay the danger; subduction was locked and a major earthquake grew more likely the longer the quiescence lasted. All the world’s seismic observatories recorded the massive disturbance and the exact location of the Sumatran event within minutes of its occurrence, but no warnings were issued. The tsunamis arrived in Sri Lanka and India over 4 hours later, though within less than half an hour in Thailand and Sumatra, which were most devastated. For the millions whose lives have ended or are in ruins, the greatest advance in the geosciences, plate tectonics, utterly failed them.
Many geoscientists take pride (and a fair amount of public funding) in focusing their research on dangerous natural phenomena, supposedly aimed at giving warnings or mitigating their effects. Take any natural calamity, whether it be earthquake or tsunami, volcanic eruption, mudslide, flood or even something so simple as helping provide clean water for the victims of drought or displacement by conflict. Now list the lives saved by the direct efforts of geoscientists against the torrent of their publications and attendances at conferences. Is there any cause for pride in the instrumentation, the theory and the field experience? Or should we reflect on the hubris of scientific endeavour in the aftermath of such awful events? Two days after the disaster struck I put together detailed topographic elevation data (from the Shuttle Radar Topography Mission – SRTM) for the coastlines that surround the Indian Ocean. I had had them for 6 months, but did nothing except make some pretty maps for a conference presentation. I had known what potential they have for predicting areas of flooding, and more important where refuges from inundation might be, but I found “better” things to do. All coastal areas below 15 m elevation are at risk, and a great many correlate with the tsunamis’ worst effects. What we could have done and what we did do generally emerge only in retrospect, and indulging in mea culpa serves no purpose. Individuals have their own agendas, and they are rarely useful in any wider sphere. The organisations that draw scientists together are not in themselves altruistic, but serve largely academic ends. However, human tragedies surely remind us of a wider set of responsibilities, even if only momentarily.
A collective organisation of both knowledge and real needs, which sets aside career and the “advancement of science”, is probably the only means of putting the geosciences to work for fully human benefit. For 40 years such a collective existed in the small form of the Association of Geoscientists for International Development (AGID), which aimed at knowledge transfer from its members to less fortunate areas. For the latter half of its existence, AGID was subsidised by the Canadian International Development Agency. A handful of members met at the 32nd International Geological Congress in Florence during late August 2004, the agenda being wholly about its survival or winding up following CIDA’s withdrawal of financial support. The vote went for continuation. But, despite helping some young geoscientists of the “Third World” make progress, AGID’s small size and limited aims and funding have proved unable to make it a force that matches real needs or the geosciences’ potential for assisting development. Data and theory now present the opportunity to resolve two great challenges: giving every man, woman and child on the planet access to safe drinking water; and predicting and mitigating all natural hazards. Every senior politician in the developed world pays lip service to both, each UN agency convenes to discuss them on a regular basis, and the International Union of Geological Sciences (IUGS) has proposed the International Year of Planet Earth (2005-2007) with those themes at the top of its agenda. IGC-32, the largest ever gathering of geoscientists was dominated by humanitarian themes and the launch of the IUGS initiative. The International Year of Planet Earth was supposed to have been proposed by the Peoples’ Republic of China at the September 2004 UN General Assembly 59. It does not appear on the UN web site, and the supporting web site www.esfs.org gives no news of its adoption. But there have been many “Years of…” and even several “Decades of…” from which we have yet to see any tangible outcomes, and little of the “awareness” that they are supposed to generate, certainly not in those areas of the world towards which they were directed.
One collective of professionals that has had a powerful impact on emergencies since 1971 is Médicins sans Frontières (www.msf.org), founded and administered independently of the world’s “great and good”. Would a geosciences equivalent be feasible and supported? Yet there are measures that even individuals can take. At a UN Office for Outer Space Affairs meeting on the use of satellite data for mitigating disasters (Munich, 18-21 October 2004) www.zki.caf.dlr.de/events/2004/unoosa_workshop/unoosa_programme_en.html – Margaret Andrews Deller of the UK Open University presented her ideas (see link at the above web site) on a simple and low-cost way to reduce the impact of natural disasters. Briefly, she based her suggestions on indigenous people’s deep knowledge of their surroundings. Recognising that, it should be possible to provide communities with graphic images that highlight potential threats, in forms that are low-cost and easily understood by anyone, such as the use of images that incorporate perspective and show features in near-natural colours. Her most important point is that such information would not be just a warning, but a means of showing people their homeland in a way that they can learn from and value. That would bring together those affected with those who come to their aid, should catastrophe strike, and would empower local people to take charge of their lives instead of being victims.
Easily understood information and advice is vital for potential victims of catastrophes, and a quick search of the internet reveals lots on all manner of hazards and how to avoid them. NOAA’s tsunamis website http://wcatwc.gov/ is an excellent example. Such information needs to be recast into forms that people outside the “information society” can easily understand, and to be distributed – not such a massive task. What drew children to south Asian beaches on Boxing Day, the massive withdrawal of the sea, is the first sign of a tsunami. On Pacific islands everyone knows what threat such a weird occurrence signifies, but nobody on the rim of the Indian Ocean did. But isn’t it also essential for geoscientists to donate some of their publicly and industrially funded time to share their expertise directly with those so much less fortunate than ourselves? Without that, our claim to be resolving humanity’s problems is a transparent sham.