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September 17, 2013 | By:  Jon Tennant
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Geology beyond science.

So people who read this blog (*one person cheers off in the distance*) may have noticed that my partner-in-crime, Jane Robb, recently abandoned me to the fusty claws of Nature. *sniff* Fear not though! Jane is pursuing awesome things now with the European Geosciences Union, the other organisation I also happen to write for. She also maintains a personal blog, which is well worth following.

So last week, I wrote about how we can use different plots to help craft stories within geoscience. I want to stay along the theme of ‘science communication' for a while, and write about an excellent paper Jane had published recently, calling for an increase in public engagement within geology higher education. Expect tonnes more along this in the future, as Jane develops her role at the EGU, but for now, I figured it would be cool to highlight some of the key points in Jane's paper, as a sort of weird, blog-eulogy to her passing.

This is not an article about scientists doing more to engage the public with science, an ever-popular theme throughout the blogosphere. It's about providing students with the tools and skills they need to, starting with within-institution education, and demonstrating to them the broader impacts of geoscience beyond just raw science.

The motive for writing such a piece is due to the apparent changing nature of universities, and the interaction they are being called upon to increase with respect to the wider public, and industry in particular. In a time when tuition fees are rising and university budgets are being squeezed, demonstrating to prospective students that you have their future outside of academic in mind, particularly career-wise, has never been more important.

The second aspect of this comes from providing students an understanding of the effects of geology on society, economics, politics, and other aspects of everyday life. For example, the discussion about whether we are entering a new geological era, the Anthropocene, or the effects and mitigation of natural disasters. From a personal perspective, I don't think even once in my 4 years of undergraduate geology did the broader effects of ‘science in society' come up (I know it was the subject of a couple of optional modules though, which still nonetheless focussed on the core geology, rather than the social aspects, if memory serves).

A theme throughout these factors is non-academic communication. For example, when writing to policymakers regarding natural disasters, a different mode of language is needed as you have to communicate often a large amount of communication to non-specialists, in a manner that can then be translated throughout the policy development process. A fine example of this is a recent submission to the UK Parliament by James Verdon and colleagues at Bristol University regarding Carbon Capture and Storage and induced seismicity - check out the different style between this piece and pretty much any scholarly article in a journal.

Jane goes on to discuss the merits of direct engagement, for example, through science centres. Anyone who's ever seen me face-to-face will realise why I stick to blogging, so I won't dwell on that part too much. You can read the article for free (see link below) if you're more into the merits of and approaches to actual in-person communication.

What this all bores down to at the end of the day though are skills. As a geology student, you'll be trained to become mesmerised by rock thin sections under cross-polarised light, how to figure out the precise amount of gold in a river bend, and the precise angle with which to thwack an exposure to achieve maximum demolition. At the PhD level, many institutions have now implemented [near-useless] external skills courses that are obligatory for all students. How cool would it be if skills such as public communication, event organising, policy understanding, non-specialist writing, were all included as courses or modules, or external workshops, throughout undergraduate degrees?

A few cool organisations, if you fancy learning more and getting involved with ‘science beyond science', are Geology for Global Development, STEMNET, Science is Vital, Campaign for Science and Engineering, Sense About Science, The Geological Society, and many others, including local geological societies which are pretty easy to track down online. My recommendation, echoed by Jane, would be to explore Twitter. It's probably the most invaluable information resource for academics at the present, once you develop the networks and figure out what it is (can take some time to get used to), and doubles as a method of communicating your own voice out there too.

Jane provides some excellent suggestions for external reading and helpful resources that are well worth checking out. But I guess the main point to take away is that academia is evolving, and geology departments need to get on board and realise that there's a whole world out there beyond ‘ivory towers' of research, journals and laboratories. It's crucial that we train our next generations of geoscientists to become aware of the breadth and depth of geology (and related subjects), and the impact it has both on themselves and within wider society. Above all, don't forget that geology rocks.

Reference: Robb, J. (2013) A call for increased public engagement in geology higher education, Geology Today, 29(2), 63-67 (free version!)


September 09, 2013 | By:  Jon Tennant
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Plotting for the Earth. Sciences.

So a cool paper came out a while back about using plots when attempting to construct stories as a mode of communicating in Earth Science. I cannot, as always, emphasise my frustration when someone writes an article that's supposed to be broadly educational, and sticks it behind a paywall. In this case, it might have reached the target audience of practising institutionalised Earth scientists (hello), but not the many who aren't fortunate to have a subscription.

This is a much delayed attempt to distil the information contained within the article, which is otherwise a fab piece, so that it might actually be of additional use than stagnating in Elsevier's draughty vaults.

I've written many pieces before about the importance of science communication in Earth Science/Geoscience/Rocks/whatever, largely inspired by [massive name drops] Iain Stewart and Ted Nield's piece from a while back. While some of the time, I think a lot of people might dedicate a bit too much time to thinking about the process of communicating science rather than actually doing it, sometimes it's nice to take a breather and perhaps pick up a few new things to refine your techniques, particularly with respect to blogging, my main communications output.

Back in one second, I need to make some pasta.

So the premise of the paper is pretty awesome. One current idea floating around the science communication realm is this concept of stories, in that you can use them to create a context that is more relevant to the average reader. In this case, it is the idea of tying specific events or situations to the principles, or foundation, of Earth science. The tying of these two together exposes the idea of ‘plots', which are common structures that provide insight into the science, while maintaining relevance to a non-specialist audience.

Here are the 8 plots described in the article, and yes, they do mostly have awesome names.

Cause and Effect

Leepsteek? There is no leepsteek! While The Merovingian might not have been the best geoscience communicator in the world, he nailed the first theme here. Cause and effect is simple: if you disturb a system or aspects of a system in some way, then that will cause ripples and they will be felt. This is a key factor in Earth science, due to the very nature of our dynamic planet.

This plot, naturally, has two parts: the process of change, such as a climatic perturbation, and the result, such as how this affects the rate of erosion at a cliff face. The opposite of this is also possible, for example trying to determine the cau

In the beginning, God created rocks, and then a separate race of humans called ‘geologists' who had an enhanced love of beer, hammers, shiny things, and beer, to study them. Genesis, as I'm sure you're all scratching your head trying to figure out, relates to the origins of features, groups of features, or processes. Geologically speaking, this could be anything from geomorphological features like hills and mountains, or sedimentary structures like ripple marks, to something more unusual or exotic like an impact crater.

Emergence

Earth systems are complex. They're the products of suites of processes that interact, and are variably non-dependent on each other. Where these processes, or components, interact within a system and create a pattern, this is the emergent theme. Phillips describes these plots as ‘by-products of the rules governing systems, rather than direct outcomes of those rules'. Sounding a bit Matrix-y again. Examples where this sort of plot er, emerges, are in climate change, or how landforms change through time.

Metamorphosis

One of the coolest things about geology is describing and trying to unravel the processes that create what we see preserved in the rock record. We can actually see geological processes happening in everyday life, such as erosion, or how a river shifts course or changes from a linear to braided form. The cool thing about metamorphosis is the variation in scale, both in terms of process size, and length of time; for example, the millions of years timescale to build a mountain, compared to a near-instantaneous landslip on a local beach.

Destruction

One of the long-standing questions in geology is ‘do rocks feel pain'? Destruction describes the process whereby rocks may or may not feel pain, through complete or incomplete loss of structure. A classic example of this sort of story would be extinction, or degradation of an environment due to human influence. This has a clear anthropogenic impact, as many geological features act secondarily as resources, so loss of any sort can have a negative influence. An example of this might be through coastal erosion, which can lead to the destruction of property. Destruction is probably the most prominent plot to have a social and economic influence. Cooler examples might include the loss of ancient civilisations, which may be related in some way to geological processes (e.g., Atlantis).

Convergence

Convergence describes the process of multiple independent factors becoming more similar through time, often towards a common state. Such processes might include how a river incises through time through erosion, in incremental developmental stages. Such plots would often terminate in a steady state or dynamic equilibrium, where factors cancel each other out, or the process stream changes; for example, when the critical threshold of hillside erosion is achieved.

Divergence

Essentially the opposite of convergence. Probably the best, and most obvious, version of this would be biological evolution, and the micro- and macro-scale, whereby populations and species diverge from each other through time, becoming more dissimilar.

Oscillation

Cyclical patterns are commonly known in the geological record, ranging from Milankovitch cycles to the frequency of mass extinctions, plausibly driven by an external force such as solar flaring. Cycles are critical in regulating Earth systems, such as biogeochemical cycles, nutrient cycles, ocean stratification and currents, and occur in almost all environments in many different ways.

These plots are by no means completely mutually exclusive of each other, and it is entirely possible to combine hybrids as the purpose requires. They are also not exhaustive - I'm sure you can conjure up multiple plots that would suit your own line of research (comments below please!), and they are also perfectly divisible depending on how general or precise you wish to construct a piece. Anyway, I hope this extraction is adequate, and you've gained a little understanding of how to apply a directed narrative to writing in future.

Now to figure out how this works for dinosaurs...


July 12, 2013 | By:  Jon Tennant
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Analogue. Analogous. Analogy.
Analogies, metaphors, similes...we use a number of methods of comparison when we want to explain something, make something exciting, compare and contrast, or understand something ourselves. I often use analogies when I am trying to understand something - especially if I am trying to visualise a physical process such as plate tectonics might cause. Other times I understand a concept but subconsciously derive an analogy in my mind and I dig around in my head to find this analogy in order to explain the concept to others.

Scientists often use analogies, but not just for explaining to other people what they are doing. Analogies are crucial to geoscience mainly because it is very difficult to go to another planet and test our hypotheses, or just nip to the centre of the Earth for a quick temperature recording before lunch. It’s not possible (yet). So what we do is we either try to simulate what we believe the conditions at the centre of the Earth to be at the surface in labs, or we try to find processes that we can observe and measure and compare them to, say, other planets.

Of course, this means that geology is commonly open to interpretation from many well-informed individuals in their fields but we do still manage to come to some useful conclusions (honestly - see Jon’s post on why geology is useful - we promise!).

So lets take this theme of analogies and look at our favourite planet (apart from Earth of course), Mars:

When investigating the prospect of life on Mars, we only have one other mode of comparison: Earth. We don’t know that what we see on Earth is the only possibility for life in the Solar System or universe, but we can take a pretty good guess that it is.

Meteorites as clues to life
Most meteorites are as old as the Earth, but Mars meteorites are much younger. The most famous Mars meteorite is ALH 84001 made of a rock called pyroxenite containing magnetite, chromite, pyrite and pyrrhotite. The meteorite records several events of igneous formation, impact shock and fracturing and fluids, making it difficult to work with as the long and complicated history means that you might not be sampling the whole rock from sampling just one part of it.
Although there are no hydrous minerals in the meteorite, there are carbonate globules present (left) that have caused some of the most highly debated clues to life on Mars in recent years. The globules were thought by some to be nanobacterial globules: signs of modern life on Mars. But one of the key questions we need to ask about these globules is: how can we tell if they are organic or inorganic, or even if they are simply artefacts of sample preparation?

There are two main hypotheses on the formation of the carbonate globules which are presented below in a highly simplified form:

1) Organic: The carbonate globules are nanobacteria in structures within the fractures between crystal grains. Polycyclic aromatic hydrocarbons can be seen concentrated in fractures inside the carbonates and are consistent with decomposition of bacteria on Earth.

2) Inorganic: There are two distinct types of carbonate globules in the meteorite that represent high and low termperature formations respectively. The low temperature formation has formed from aqueous precipitates, and the high termprature formation is from shock melting of the low temperature precipitates.

As scientists, we have to consult the evidence available to us to come up with the best possible solution to our problems. Often, solutions follow the Occam's Razor approch where the answer with the fewest assumptions is the most likely. In this case there are several assumptions that need to be made for the organis hypothesis to be true, and much more evidence needed such as internal cell structures, range of cell sizes, and evidence for a suitabel climate to support life on Mars before we can be confident in this approach. For the inorganic hypothesis the number of assumptions are much lower, as we have much more evidence for the past and present geological workings of Mars.

The methane debate
It is thought that methanogenesis (formation of methane) is a likely metabolic pathway for organisms on Mars from looking at analogies on Earth. The presence of methane in the Martian atmosphere in quantities at their upper limit of 20ppb (parts per billion), may indicate the presence of this life. Because methane is an extremely reactive compound, it is unusual for it to be found in such quantities unreacted in the atmosphere, which implies a method of formation or sink that is releasing this methane on a constant basis. Because there is no known formation mechanism of methane in the atmosphere on Earth and therefore on Mars, the loss of the methane to space and to reactions with other compounds must be balanced by either biogenic sources, meteorite sources, or from magmatic outgassing or hydrothermal reactions.

The primary production of methane on Earth is by the breakdown of organic matter to form natural gas reservoirs, however this is unlikely to be the case on Mars because there are no macroscopic organisms to decompose. There is the possibility of significant accumulation of methanogenic bacteria in the saline aquifer layer in the subsurface of Mars. Another hypothesis for organic methane origins is that organisms in the past trapped methane in methane hydrates and these have since been slowly releasing the methane into the atmosphere.

Serpentinisation is another possible way to form large quantities of methane on Earth and is definitely possible on Mars too. Hydration by water frost of ultramafic silicates (below - a polarized thin section image of serpentinised olivine under a microscope) results in the formation of serpentine and hydrogen, which can then react with carbon in crustal rocks to form methane. Hydrothermal vents as seen at mid-ocean ridges are where volumes of serpentinisation can take place on the Earth, but mid-ocean ridge serpentinisation is an unlikely mechanism for Mars as there are no oceans or active tectonics. However, it could be that methane is still formed by aqueous alteration of basalts on Mars, but at depths of around 2km below the surface. This is usually the case at subduction zones, where oceanic rocks including basalt are dragged under continents along with sea sediments and fluids. IIf this is the case the amount of methane produced would be massive, and this could be slowly being released into the atmosphere from the subsurface.

Basically, like most questions on the Solar System, there is not enough evidence yet to say whether the methane is biogenic or inorganic. So, what is needed it so locate and tap the main localities of the methane sources. Measurements the isotopes of carbon and other elements, together with organics, oxidants, and other trace species, in samples of the surface, rock, and the atmosphere need to be carried out to answer whether the methane is biogenic or hydro-geochemically formed.

Why are we?
When it comes to life, all we know is our own. There is still a long way to go before we find absolute proof of other life in the universe, and even more still to see if there are other conscious beings like ourselves out there. The likelihood is that we are not alone, but will we ever know for sure?

These kinds of big questions can become overwhelming, and impinge on some of the more poignant philosophical questions we ask ourselves like: Why are we here? For many, religion is an answer but for others the physical processes that govern our universe are powerful and awesome enough to provide exciting answers to our deepest questions.

Why are you here? Feel free to discuss these intriguing issues on Twitter (using #Scitable) or in the comments below.

Written by Jane, minor edits by Jon.

Further reading...
On ALH 84001:
On methane:
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