Author's posts
Sep 15 2010
Science is Vital – history repeating 1667
I’m reading Thomas Sprat’s “History of the Royal Society of London, for the improving of Natural Knowledge“* published in 1667. He’s just mentioned that following the return of Charles II much spending has been made on public works and goes on to say:
This general Temper being well weigh’d; it cannot be imagin’d that the Nation will withdraw its Assistance from the Royal Society alone; which does not intend to stop at some particular Benefit but goes to the Root of all noble Inventions, and proposes an infallible Course to make England the Glory of the Western World.
This seems terribly relevant to current circumstances, he does spoil it slightly by going on to say:
There is scarce any Thing has more hindered the true Philosophy than a Vain Opinion, that men have taken up, that Nothing could be done in it, to any purpose, but upon a vast Charge, and a mighty Revenue.
Old Sprat had a fine way with words!
*Quotes are from p78-79
Sep 11 2010
Book Review: The Fellowship by John Gribbin
I’ve written previously about the Royal Society via the medium of book reviews: Seeing Further, Joseph Banks and Age of Wonder, and also in a data mangling exercise. This post is about “The Fellowship: The Story of the Royal Society and a Scientific Revolution” by John Gribbin, it describes the scientific world before the Society and the founding of the Royal Society. As with many books about this period, the front cover of my copy features “An experiment on a bird in the Air pump” by Joseph Wright of Derby and so that is the image I use to decorate this post. Following my usual scheme this review is really an aide memoire as much as a review.
The book opens with a set of brief biographies, starting with William Gilbert of Colchester (1544-1603), and his scientific study of magnetism: de Magnete (1600). This work on magnetism was unusual for it’s time in that it was very explicitly based on experimental observation, rather than the “philosophising” of Aristotelian school which imputed that the world could be understood simply by thinking. William Gilbert is relatively little known (ok – I didn’t know about him!), perhaps because his work was in a relatively narrow field and was superseded in the 18th century by work of people like Michael Faraday furthermore Gilbert seems to have spent most of his life practicing as a doctor with his scientific work playing only a small part of his life.
Next step is Galileo Galilei (1564-1642). He continued in the tradition of William Gilbert, eschewing the philosophical approach for experiment. In contrast to Gilbert, Galileo made contributions across a wide range of science for a long period – promulgating technology such as telescopes, microscopes and computing devices. This likely explains his greater fame. A detail that caught my eye was that as a professor of mathematics at the University of Pisa he was paid 60 crowns per year, whilst the Professor of Medicine gained 2000 crowns. For many early scientists, medical training appears to be the major scientific training available.
Francis Bacon (1561-1626) was more important as a parliamentarian, lawyer and courtier than a scientist. I link reluctantly to wikipedia in this instance, since in the opening paragraph they seem to be repeating the myth that he met his end through stuffing snow into a chicken to see if this helped preservation. His fame as a founding father of modern science is based largely on a book he didn’t write in which he intended to describe how a scientist should work – a scientific method. Perhaps more notably he had a vision as to how science might function in society at a time when there was no such thing as a scientist. It is apparently from Bacon that Isaac Asimov got his “Foundation”; it is the name of an organisation of scientific Fellows found in Bacon’s fictional work New Atlantis. Finally we are introduced to William Harvey (1578-1657), who identified the circulatory system for blood in the human body by a process of observation and experiment (published in De Motu Cordis (1628)) he was primarily a physician.
The point of this preamble is to say that, as the founding of the Royal Society approached, a number of people had started doing or proposing to do a new kind of science (or rather natural philosophy as it would have been called). The new natural philosophy involved doing experiments, and thinking about them – it was experimental science in contrast to the “received wisdom” from the ancient Greeks which was certainly interpreted to mean at the time that thinking was all that was required to establish true facts about the physical world. It’s not really accurate to say that one person did this and everything changed: rather that a shift had started to take place in the middle years of the 16th century. The foundation of the Royal Society can be seen as the culmination of that shift.
The Royal Society was founded at Gresham College in London on 28th November 1660, although it’s origins lay in Oxford where many of the group that would go on to form the Society had been meeting since the 1640’s. The Royal charter of the Society was agreed a couple of years later. The central figure in the Oxford group was John Wilkins (~1614-1672). The original Society included Christopher Wren, Robert Boyle and Robert Hooke amongst others. What striking is the political astuteness of the founding fathers as the monarchy returned to England in the form of Charles II, the first President, Viscount Brouncker, was a Royalist and the Society clearly identified that a Royal seal of approval was what they required from the very beginning. The Society had an air of purposefulness about it, not of airy philosophising for the amusement of gentlemen. The Society started publishing the worlds first scientific journal, “Philosophical Transactions”, and commissioning a history of their founding by Thomas Sprat only a few years later. As a scientist I have picked out those names that mean most to me, however it’s very clear that the Royal Society was more than a group of scientists meeting to talk about science and the other less scientifically feted Fellows were equally important in the success of the Society.
Gribbin’s book then goes on to consider three men important in the early life of the Royal Society. Firstly: Robert Hooke (1636-1703), originally scientific assistant to Robert Boyle (1627-1691) who became the Society’s first “Curator of Experiments”. Prior to his appointment the Fellows appeared to be poorly organised in terms of providing weekly demonstration experiments for the Society’s education. Hooke was a really outstanding scientist, a skilled draftsman and maker of scientific equipment. The reason Hooke is not better known is largely down to Isaac Newton, with whom he had a longstanding feud and who outlived him. Newton (1643-1727) does not need further introduction as a scientist, his role in the Royal Society was to provide scientific gravitas (after Hooke had died) he was also President of the Society for the period 1703-27. Edmond Halley (1656-1742) was more important to the Society on the administrative side, he is chiefly remembered from the scientific point of view for his prediction of the return of a comet calculated using Newton’s theory of gravitation. He also spent a great deal of time persuading Newton to publish and trying to extract data from Flamsteed (the Astronomer Royal). In addition to this he invented a diving bell, wrote the first article on life annuities, published on the trade winds and monsoons, made observations of the stars of the Southern hemisphere and went on several scientific expeditions.
Some miscellaneous thoughts that arose as I read:
- Royal patronage, in this instance by Charles II, was important for the Society in this period and later by George III – as described a little in Age of Wonder.
- On the face of it astronomy is blue-skies research, but at the time the precise measurement of the position of the stars was seen as a route to determining the longitude – an important practical problem.
- It’s notable that the persistent anecdotes about the scientists mentioned here i.e. Francis Bacon and the frozen chicken, Newton and the apple falling from the tree and Galileo dropping things from towers, originate from the earliest biographies often written by people who knew them personally. These anecdotes have later been found to be rather fanciful, but nevertheless have persisted.
- There was serious feuding going between scientists in the early years of the Society!
Overall I enjoyed this book, although it does sometimes have the air of a collection of short biographies of men who are already relatively well known. The most interesting part to me was the core part around the founding of the Society, bringing in some of the lesser known members and also highlighting the importance of the non-scientific aspects of the Society in it’s success.
In terms of scientific history reading, where next? “God’s Philosophers” by James Hannam seems relevant to understanding scientific activities prior to those covered in this book. A deeper investigation into Edmond Halley seems worthwhile, and I should also make another attempt at the Thomas Sprat history of the Royal Society.
Further reading
- “Joseph Banks” by Patrick O’Brian.
- “Seeing Further” edited by Bill Bryson.
- “God’s Philosophers” by James Hannam.
- “Age of Wonder” by Richard Holmes.
- “The Curious Life of Robert Hooke” by Lisa Jardine.
- “Hostage to fortune” by Lisa Jardine and Alan Stewart, which is a biography of Francis Bacon.
- “The History of the Royal Society of London, for the Improving of Natural Knowledge” by Thomas Sprat.
- “Isaac Newton: The Last Sorcerer” by Michael White.
Sep 05 2010
God and the scientist
Recently I observed that Stephen Hawking* had introduced God into his book “The Grand Design” as a way of gaining sales. Last weeks story on Hawking and God irritated me for two reasons. Firstly, the idea that a new idea that Stephen Hawking has introduced in his forthcoming book either proves or disproves the existence of God is fatuous nonsense. Secondly, revealing some intellectual snobbery on my part, this is a popular science book – such an important idea would have been published in peer-reviewed literature first – most likely Nature! On the first point Mary Warnock covers the philosophical side of this well in a short article in The Observer this week, in summary: proof / not proof of the existence of God is a hoary old chestnut.
As an atheist and scientist, I’m quite clear that my demand for evidence for the existence of God is what makes me an atheist. You don’t need evidence if you have faith. Although many scientists are atheists, this is by no means a pre-requisite. Many scientists in the past have been professed strong religious beliefs, no doubt in large part because of the spirit of the time they lived in. It’s only for particular variants of theism and particular topics that the two things are in direct collision: Creationism and the study of evolutionary biology are not happy bedfellows. The degree of cognitive dissonance required to accommodate a religious view of the world and a scientific view is really rather minor. Many scientists in the past have seen their scientific work as revealing the mechanism that God has created.
A further element to this is the degree to which modern cosmology requires a degree of faith. As an experimental soft condensed matter physicist the world of cosmologists is very far away. The things I study are essentially testable in the lab, you can put your hands on them, prod and poke them. Modern cosmology has a large degree of internal logical consistency and mathematical beauty, but it has close to zero contact with observations. At times it feels like any experimental test is wilfully pushed into timescales, or size scales that are simply impossible to observe (and not just impossible in practice, but impossible in principle). This is not to say they are wrong, but simply that their correctness must be taken on faith.
*Pointless name dropping/anecdotage: I had dinner with Stephen Hawking at Gonville and Caius College, he’s not very dynamic.
Aug 26 2010
Sunlight
Some time ago we installed “solar thermal” on our roof, as described in: “The Dorothy Hopkinson Memorial Solar Panel”. This heats water, it’s significantly reduced our gas usage over the summer when the central heating is not on but during the winter when most of our gas is consumed the effect is minimal.
Next step on the renewable energy list is solar photovoltaic (PV) – this converts light to electricity directly. Solar PV systems are rather more expensive than solar thermal systems, until recently the economics of this were a bit questionable – £10,000 is a lot to spend to reduce your electricity consumption by half. However, the feed-in tariff scheme was introduced in the UK in April 2010. This scheme pays a generous tariff based on the total amount of renewable electricity generated by an installation in an effort to increase the uptake of such systems. A similar scheme has been in place in Germany since 2000, where it has been pretty successful in reaching this goal.
We have a medium-sized 3 bed semi-detached house with East-West facing roof elements which are relatively small. Two of us live in the house, our annual electricity consumption is typically 6.5 kWh per day or 2400kWh per year (*see below for a comment on units). When we first moved into the house our consumption was around 11kWh per day (4000kWh per year). We reduced this by replacing all our light bulbs with low energy versions; switching off a second fridge/freezer; almost entirely stopping using a tumble drier and on replacing fridges and washing machines we bought the lowest energy versions we could find. So these measure achieved roughly 40% reduction. I know all this because I’ve been recording our electricity and gas consumption once a week for the last 3 years!
A colleague at work has recently installed both solar thermal and solar PV, and he gave a talk describing his experiences. After some delay we arranged for a survey by The Green Electrician, who were the installers recommended locally by Segen. The surveyor did a few measurements of our roof and then went through sample power generation calculations and costings based on those measurements. The calculation is described in “The Government’s Standard Assessment Procedure for Energy Rating of Dwellings” (SAP 2005 page 69). Beforehand I was under the impression that this wasn’t going to be worthwhile since only our East-facing roof is available for installation and this is always described as ‘non-ideal’. However, the calculations show that the penalty for an East-facing roof compared to a south-facing one is only about 15%. Unlike solar thermal, direct sunlight is not required – useful energy is still generated on a cloudy day or when the panel is in shadow.
Slight diversion: we were original quoted for an 8 panel system, however once on the roof the installers found they could fit two more panels. I’ve redone the calculations to allow for this – they may be a little bit inaccurate but not much.
The system recommended was a 1.85kWp Suntech system (ten 1580 x 808mm panels = 12.64m2) limited by the size of our roof. The calculated output of this system is 1393kWh per year i.e. about 60% of our annual usage. The price quoted for this system is ~£8,600 (excluding cost of scaffolding which was just over £400). The feed-in tariff is £575 per year based on 1393kwH per year production at a price of 41.3p per kWh. The savings on our electricity bill should be £98 per year (based on 50% of generated electricity being used by us at 14p per Kwh) and £21 based on selling the other 50% back to the grid at 3p per kWh. The feed-in tariff is inflation linked, and it’s reasonable to assume that the buy and sell prices of electricity will go up in the future. As you can see the feed-in tariff is what makes this financially sensible. In theory we will be getting £694 back on the system every year, so it will pay for itself in 13 years or less, mainly due to the feed-in tariff. The tariff is paid for 25 years so at the end of 25 years we will have been “re-paid” at least £8350 more than we spent. This is an embarrassingly high “middle-class benefit”. There are companies who will install renewable systems, paying the upfront costs, providing significantly cheaper electricity and taking the tariff (see Guardian article here): in summary this could work for you but the companies aren’t doing you a favour.
Installation is pretty straightforward: we needed substantial scaffolding across the front of the house to provide roof access; there’s some electrical gear to go in the loft (this is a panel about 1m2) and there’s a cable run from there down to our consumer unit under the stairs where there is a further small meter the size of a central heating controller. In our house this is fairly straightforward: the cable runs up to the loft via ducting up the stairwell – we’ll bury this in the wall when we next decorate. Three chaps were working for a substantial fraction of two days but they also cleaned out my gutter and re-pointed the ridge-tiles. At this point I’d like to commend Ian, Danny and John: the installers, who did a fine job and were most polite.
There’s still some paperwork for us to do, but essentially the power companies are obliged to pay the feed-in tariff and accept energy back from us onto the grid.
At the moment I’m going up and down the loft stairs to look at my power generation at 30 minute intervals! Overall I’m very pleased with the system: survey to installation was a day under 3 weeks and on a not particularly sunny day I’ve been generating 1000W since 10:30am and peaked at around 1500W. As of 3pm I’ve generated 4.4Kwh which is nearly 70% of our average daily usage. We expect to get less electricity from the system as we head into the shorter days of winter with a sun lower in the sky, but it’s not a bad start.
As an additional bonus we can now electrocute unsuspecting electricians in a sustainable fashion – unlike a normal house you need to switch off supply from the grid and from the solar panel before sticking your screwdriver anywhere electrical. There are big signs to this effect next to the consumer unit.
*Note on units: Power is the rate at which something consumes energy, and the units for this are Watts (W), 1000 Watts is known as 1kiloWatt (kW) – a kettle uses about 2kW when it is running, the PC I’m using about 300W and the electric shower about 9kW. Ultimately what you buy from the electricity company is an amount of energy. For domestic electricity consumption we talk about “kWh” or “kilowatt-hours” this is a power multiplied by a time which in physical terms is “energy” which physicists would normally quote in units of “Joules” however, we’re not in physics at the moment. The quoted output of our system is in “kWp” or “Kilowatt-hours (peak)” – this is the maximum power we could possibly obtain from the system.
Some pictures of the system, including a graph of gas and electricity consumption over the last three years.
Aug 22 2010
More colours than the rainbow
This post is about making the bridge between how a physicist understands colour, and something a bit more useful.
Light is a collection of electromagnetic waves; for a physicist the most important property of a wave is its wavelength, its “size”. The wavelengths of visible light fall roughly in the range 1/1000 of a millimetre to 1/2000 of a millimetre. (1/1000 of a millimetre is a micron). Blue light has a shorter wavelength than red light.
Things have colour either because they generate light or because of the way they interact with light that falls upon them. The light we see is made of many different wavelengths, the visible spectrum. Each wavelength has a colour, and the colour we perceive is a result of adding all of these colours together.
The diagram to the right summarises this: it’s called a chromaticity diagram, the numbers around the edge are wavelengths in nanometres (a millionths of a millimetre), pure, single wavelength light falls on this line; any point inside the line is formed from the mixture of wavelengths. The line represents “all the colours of the rainbow”; colours inside the line are not in the rainbow. The chromaticity diagram is the “periodic table” for colour scientists, it’s iconic and it summarises the world of colour.
This chromaticity diagram is just a slice through a volume, we could draw another one a little bit dimmer, and a little bit dimmer than that until we reached black.
How do we get to this diagram? The central issue to understanding perceived colour is that although the light in the environment comes as a mixture of a multitude of wavelengths, our eyes are limited by the light sensitive cells they contain, known as “cones”. In humans cones come in three types, which are sensitive in three different ranges of the spectrum. Roughly there are red-, blue- and green sensitive cones. So the eye gives just three readings in terms of colour description. The chromaticity diagram comes from a calculation trying to predict these three values and combining them to fit on a flat page (which only gives you two dimensions to play with).
Some other animals don’t have three sorts of cones. Birds, for example, have four – this is known as tetrachromacy which sounds to me like some sort of wizardry involving chairs (I’m reading Terry Pratchett at the moment). Birds have an extra type of cone in the ultra-violet part of the spectrum – so they are sensitive to wavelengths which we are not. Most mammals are dichromatic, but other primates, like humans, are also trichromatic. Dichromatic animals will be able to perceive a smaller range of colours than us. The evolutionary implication here is that earlier mammals lost some colour sensing ability, possibly for a gain in low light sensitivity but some mammals subsequently regained the ability.
The chromaticity diagram is still something of a physicists play-thing, it’s useful for doing calculations. There are other ways of describing colour which are related to human perception, they are developments based on the first steps used in constructing the chromaticity diagram. The aim of these methods is to similar numbers to colours that look similar; make those numbers reasonably easy to explain from a conceptual standpoint and try to give numbers twice as big to colours that are twice as bright. My favoured system in this respect is the CIE LAB system. The colours are expressed as three numbers L, a and b: L tells you something about overall brightness, a tells you the point on a scale between red and green and b tells you a point on the scale between yellow and blue.
But all of this is a bit of a fraud, because actually the colours you’re seeing on your monitor aren’t the real colours I’m trying to show you. The problem is that display devices contain red, green and blue elements but they don’t fall anywhere near the extremes of the chromaticity diagram and we can only get colours inside the the triangle defined by the red, green and blue elements in the monitor. A typical monitor gamut is shown here.
All this is based on the study of ideal colour stimuli (little square patches) on grey backgrounds, things get an awful lot more complicated if we start to worry about context. This is best illustrated with an image:
As far as my computer is concerned squares A and B have the same colour, my brain and your brain are interpreting the scene context and giving them different colours. This is called Adelson’s checker shadow illusion.