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This is my last column for 2009, and what a year
it has been! The heaviest blow to my own
serenity was the loss of two dear friends—Tom
Van Flandern passed away in January, and Tony
Bray in July. They are sorely missed. Geoffrey
Burbidge and Halton Arp are both currently
unwell, suffering the rigours of four score
years and more, and Patrick Moore turns 87 in
March. I have booked my flight to visit him for
his birthday, and am so looking forward to
spending some time with him at Farthings.
There was tremendous cheer in 2009 as well of
course, and leading the race was the completion
of The Static Universe, my collaboration
with Patrick Moore, and the bonus of having it
accepted by prominent science publisher
Apeiron. If I say so myself, it is a tour
de force, and has been very well received by
those who have seen the pre-publication draft. I
look forward to some well-considered responses
from readers, even serious rebuttals. If I’m
wrong, tell me so!
As
is customary now, I shall devote this column to
a summary of the year’s Breaking News. In
January, I ran this letter from Chip Arp:
“Dear Hilton,
There is terrible news about Tom Van Flandern.
He was brought to the hospital with blood clots
in his lungs and expected to die within the
hour. A very risky blood thinner avoided that
threat. But the cause remains colon cancer
metastasised - untreatable. I talked to him in
his bed in the hospital last night. He will try
to beat the odds but he realizes it is
improbable. He was concerned about carrying on
the work of the Meta Research Bulletin in
notifying independent researchers about
important events which would be avoided by
normal media. The only person that he and I
could think of was you. Your interests in newer
and more correct theories, your connection to
the South African magazine, attendance at
conferences, etc, etc. You should talk to Tom,
about this.
Regards, Chip”
In
February, I mourned Tom’s passing:
On that overcast Saturday morning, after yet
another starless night, I awoke with great
sadness to the following email from Tom Van
Flandern’s son Mike:
“At 8:54AM on Friday January 9, 2009 Tom Van
Flandern passed on. I cannot begin to express
what this man meant to me. I'll write more later
as there is so much I want to say about my
father, Tom. But right now I and the rest of his
family just needs some time to grieve. I do take
some solace in knowing we did everything
possible to maximize Tom's quality time once he
was diagnosed. Also, Tom was well sedated and
died peacefully. Goodbye Dad, I love you so
much. –Mike”
By
March I was in an environmental saddle, sounding
off about the Anthropogenic Global Warming myth,
and Al Gore’s appalling, self-serving, and
factually bankrupt road show, An Inconvenient
Truth:
I consider myself an environmentalist. I
would like to see human beings become better
citizens and treat their planet with greater
respect. However, as a scientist, I am really
deeply despondent about the whole paradigm that
has arisen around Al Gore’s Inconvenient Truth
road show. The reason is simply this: The theory
of catastrophic global warming he has publicised
so brilliantly is completely unfounded in fact.
In
April, I swung away from political matters and
talked about astronomy from a physicist’s
perspective:
Astronomy is the study of the greater
environment, that part of the Universe that
appears to us as the celestial sphere—the sky.
By day, it is dominated by the Sun, our very own
star, but by night it becomes a wonderland as
the Earth’s shadow dims the sunlight and allows
us to see the Milky Way. With the naked eye we
can see, depending on conditions, the Moon (the
Earth’s only substantial natural satellite), 6
planets, part of the Milky Way galaxy, and our
sister spiral galaxy, Andromeda M31. Of course,
there are also transient phenomena that come and
go from view relatively quickly, like artificial
satellites, comets, and meteors. And Jumbo jets!
Sometimes I tried to be apolitical in my
writing, and May is a good example. It’s
hopeless! I thought I’d discuss the astronomical
distance ladder and stay away from the
controversy, but one simply cannot. The
controversy is built in.
We live in a 3-dimensional Universe. Maybe the
defining characteristic of celestial objects in
general is how far away they were when they sent
their portraits to us. It can additionally be
argued that distance is the defining problem of
astronomy. The spatial arrangements in 3
dimensions of objects we see on the sky, and the
quantified relationship between them, sets the
ground and marks the field of play.
There are a number of techniques in use,
reducing in effectiveness as remoteness
increases. Within the Solar System, we are
somewhat spoiled for choice. Radar (bouncing a
radio beam off a remote object and timing its
return) is excellent, and not only gives us a
phenomenally accurate measure of distance and
relative velocity, but can be used also to scan
surfaces and produce relief maps (for example,
the surface of Venus).
In
June I had to say something about that
bottomless dollar-sink, the Large Hadron
Collider. If there is at least one thing we
astronomers can learn from this debacle, it is
how to write up a motivation for $13-billion of
research funding based on science that no one
apart from the recipients of the funds could
validate and verify. It’s a travesty when we
stand to lose the historic Jodrell Bank radio
telescope because we can’t raise a paltry
100,000 Euros!
HEADLINE: AUSTRIAN GOVERNMENT
WITHDRAWS FUNDING FOR THE LARGE HADRON COLLIDER.
HEADLINE: AUSTRIAN GOVERNMENT
REINSTATES FUNDING FOR LHC.
In
July I paid homage to a great icon in
astrophysics, someone who has “been there,
done that” as Professor Paul Jackson put it.
A few weeks ago, I was asked by a physics
professor at the University of Western Australia
to be an examiner of a student’s PhD thesis. Of
course I’m not suitably qualified to do the job
and had to decline the invitation, but I have to
confess to being immensely flattered, all the
more so when I learnt whose shoes I was to
fill—none other than Geoffrey Burbidge, who had
to withdraw because of illness. Eish!
I am terrified of Geoffrey Burbidge. I admit it.
He makes me quake in my boots. The larger by a
considerable margin of the famous
husband-and-wife team that has earned the
moniker “B-squared”, Geoff is certainly a
different kettle of fish. Margaret, on one hand,
is a motherly figure, treating visitors to their
lovely San Diego home to tea and crumpets in the
glorious English tradition. Dealing with her
husband is quite another matter. Geoffrey does
not suffer fools gladly, and it would seem to me
that by his definition, all the world’s a fool.
And that includes me, of course.
In
August I vented my spleen at being blacklisted
by the supposedly impartial Cornell University
online archive, arXiv. I’m not mad any more.
When I was introduced to some of the other
black-listees, I realised that the invisible
arXiv moderators (are they perhaps Dark
Moderators?) had paid me a compliment. Thank
you, Paul Ginsparg and company. You’re creating
martyrs.
Astronomy ought to be an observational science.
It really should. It used to be, after all, a
hundred years ago or so. Ideally, astronomers
would point their instruments at the heavens,
find astounding new things, and publish them
where we could all share in the joy of
discovery. I wish it were so. The appalling
truth is that we are permitted to see only what
a faceless, nameless group called “the
moderators” deems fit for our eyes. Thought
Police are alive and well in the world of space
science, and who knows, some of them might even
be friends of ours. Alas, so great is their
commitment to anonymity that we would simply
never know.
Our new Chairman took over in September, and I
welcomed her. Before the pc mob lynches me (have
you noticed my stretched neck and charred
ankles?), let me hasten to pronounce that what
I’ve said in the preceding sentence is quite
kosher, and no one at the Durban Centre is
offended or confused. It was all done by
kindness and lateral thought. Then I went on to
rattle the cage of microwave background
analysts:
And now, with a swift flash
of legendary cunning, I revert to the old trick
of plagiarising something from The Static
Universe. The following excerpt is from
Chapter 7: The Microwave
Background—Surround-Sound Radio.
Let’s face it; if the Big Bang chaps could show
that the Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation
really is a picture of the early Universe as it
commenced expansion, they’ve got me! They will
have established beyond doubt that the Universe
is indeed non-static, and given the Standard
Model of Cosmology sorely needed “predictive”
success. They would finally screw the lid down
on the Big Bang critics that I seem to
represent. I will have no choice but to knock my
king over and concede the game. So why am I not
worried?
Then came October. I cheerfully trod on
hallowed ground. One of the most-cited pieces
observational evidence raised in support of Big
Bang Theory is on close inspection just a load
of old codswallop.
The much-vaunted “perfect fit” curve published
by John Mather et al in 1991 allegedly shows the
exact alignment of theory and observation in the
Microwave Background Radiation. It is indeed a
wonderfully precise match, the result of years
of intense scrutiny. In private correspondence,
my friend and helmsman Professor Paul Jackson
shared the experience. “I remember following
with excitement the build-up to that figure,
which happened over many years from 1967.
Wobbly non-satellite data plots first emerged
with huge error bars. The eventual
super-accurate FIRAS results of COBE had error
bars so small that they had to be multiplied by
400 to be visible on the plot.”
In
November, I tackled supernova light curves and
the notion of universal expansion:
The Los Alamos National Laboratory in New Mexico
has over the years been home for radically
innovative thought. From its days as focus of
the Manhattan Project which gave us the first
nuclear weapons, out-the-box thinking has
characterised the successes of Los Alamos. The
legendary Dick Feynman was a citizen there, and
so was plasma pioneer Tony Peratt. The most
recent news to reach me from Los Alamos is a
paper that addresses supernovae light curves in
a way that prompts me to say, “Damn! Why didn’t
I think of that?”
Why didn’t I indeed?
Happy and clear New Year to
everyone!
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