In a study posted online May 9, Nathan Bridges and colleagues analyzed data from an eye-in-the-sky called Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter. Using a high-resolution telescope, the researchers measured the movement of sand dunes over a 105-day span.

The fine-grained images showed that the dunes are indisputably on the move, says Bridges, a senior scientist at the Applied Physics Laboratory at Johns Hopkins University. “Even though Mars has a very thin atmosphere and high-speed winds are rare, the dunes are moving.”

The research group saw movement both in entire dunes, and in the ripples on their surface. Across one meter of dune front, they calculated an annual sand movement totaling about 2.3 cubic meters. “If you had a children’s sandbox, that would fill it with sand in a year,” Bridges says.

On Mars, as on Earth

And that, he adds, is within the range of movement seen in some Earthly dune fields. “We are not making the case that Mars has the fastest dunes, but they do move like some on Earth. Mars is an active planet, maybe not as active as Earth, but we are seeing significant movement.”

How much wind is needed to move sand when the atmosphere is less than one percent as dense as Earth’s? The grains would start moving in a wind of about 20 to 30 meters per second (40 to 50 miles per hour, measured at a height of 1 meter), Bridges says. “That is about 10 times what you need on Earth, due to the atmospheric density difference.”

Such winds do blow — rarely — on Mars, but once the sand starts moving, it’s easier to keep it rolling, he says. “Recent research by my colleagues has found … a lower-speed wind can sustain the movement.” Under the reduced gravity of Mars, a grain stays aloft longer, giving the wind more time to accelerate it. When the high-speed grain hits the sand bed, a high-energy collision impels more sand grains into motion.

Mars: A moving planet

At any rate, the discovery proves that wind needs no help from water in moving dunes, Bridges says. “We have seen dunes in images since the 1970s, but there was a question, were they currently active, moving? Mars has a very thin atmosphere and it would need high-speed winds to move sand, and those are very rare. So it’s been an open question, how much sand is moving now, and was more moving in the past?”

On Earth, water is highly erosive, but Mars has no liquid water, “so one agent of erosion on Earth is lacking,” says Bridges. “There is a lot of evidence for erosion — craters that appear to be filled in with dirt, and the primary mechanism is wind.”

And lasting sandblasting

Wind does not just move sand — it also creates sand, Bridges says. His group calculated that the natural Martian sandblaster sand would erode 1 to 50 microns off rock per year, about the same rate as in Victoria Valley.

That sandblasting would provide a source of the sand that litters so much of the red planet, Bridges says. “Erosion is occurring today, so wherever you have sand, and moderate winds, you are likely to get significant amount of erosion from rocks.” That could then create silt or more sand.

When we see all these eroded terrains, “you don’t have to evoke any past climate to explain this,” he says. “It’s a current process, and it was likely occurring for billions of years.”

Starry sky with green haze above a moss covered cliff, with waterfall on bottom right and chromatic bow along bottom

The Skogafoss is one of the biggest waterfalls in Iceland, and is especially beautiful in this stunning image under the aurora borealis. The Northern Lights are shining against a great sea of stars, including the constellation Ursa major, or Great Bear, home to the asterism — a recognizable cluster of stars — the Big Dipper. And then there’s the rainbow that’s not really a rainbow.

This colorful arch is actually a moonbow, created by the light of the full moon refracting and reflecting in the water droplets that have drifted away from the waterfall.

Rainbows are created by sunlight refracting in, and reflecting from, raindrops or mist, even if the light and water source are different. The light is first refracted when it enters a water droplet, as the light wave changes direction because it is slowed more on one side than another. Next, it is reflected off the back of the droplet, and finally it is refracted again on its way out.

Upon entering the droplet, the sunlight is separated into different wavelengths, an effect called dispersion. Different wavelengths of light are each different colors. The shorter wavelengths, like blue and purple, are refracted at a greater angle than longer wavelengths, like red and orange. This variation in bending gives rainbows and moonbows their shape.

Photo: Stephane Vetter (Nuits sacrees)

Microsoft’s April 9 deal to spend $1.3 million apiece on 800 patents from AOL was another skirmish in the patent wars that have engaged the technosphere. Just last summer, we watched a blizzard of headlines, lawsuits, and billion-dollar bills:

We wonder: Is this a situation that only a patent lawyer could love, or are these purchases and lawsuits the inevitable price of progress in our high-tech world? Are they the inevitable outgrowth of a venerable system that, for all its flaws, is still better than nothing?

Patents are licenses to exclusively make and market an invention that are inscribed in the U.S. Constitution. The concept is simple — and ridden with inherent conflict. If you invent a small device (a “midget widget”) that is new, useful, and “not obvious” to people skilled in the art of widgetry — your widget can be protected by a U.S. patent.

If I make or sell a widget that uses your invention (that “infringes on your patent”), you can sue me for damages, and a court may order me to close my widget-works.

So far, my invention has benefited me, my employees and customers, but when the patent (which must explain the inner workings of my midget widget) expires after 20 years, it becomes available to anybody.
And so (in theory) patents stimulate innovation and progress by conferring a short-term monopoly in return for short- and long-term social and economic benefits.

But what sounds good on paper can hide complexities that only a patent lawyer could love:

“Greasing the wheels of innovation” or “throwing sand in the gearbox”?

It’s not hard to find claims that the patent system is “broken,” and nobody disputes that “bad patents” have been issued for innovations that are obvious, inane or unworkable.

Patent battles are nearly as old as the U.S. patent system: Eli Whitney spent years in court trying to enforce his patent against infringers who cobbled together homemade cotton gins. His “victory” came just one year before the patent expired.

Lawyer-letters about patent infringement are a dreaded fact of life in technology industries, but no matter who wins, patent battles transfer money from the buyers of phones and computers to patent lawyers.

The pace of U.S. patent awards has picked up to about 200,000 per year, and some with a dog in the fight say the system does protect the rights of inventors.

The sentiment is not universal.

Adam Jaffe, an economist at Brandeis University, co-wrote a book on the patent system² that refers to a “broken patent system” in the subtitle. Jaffe says patents cut both ways. “Patents are important in fostering innovation, because 99.9 percent of the time, inventing something is just the first step. You require a significant investment … to get something from the invention stage to actual production, and unless you are independently wealthy, you need someone who is hoping to make money to take you through the development stage.”

And that “someone” may view a strong patent as your most valuable asset.

Software and high-tech patents?

Innovation “is a very complicated process,” Jaffe adds. “In most cases multiple ideas are interacting. In the extreme case, in software and high technology, people say a product might invoke 100,000 patents. It can get very messy.”

When the United States started issuing large numbers of software patents in the 1990s, the inexperienced patent examiners issued many dubious patents. Although the examinations have gotten more stringent, some still think software should be exempt, or patented under different standards.

Searching for competing inventions in software, for example, is comparatively difficult, and the search is the basis of the patent examination.

In most cases, says Tim Berners-Lee, a commentator on tech issues, software developers don’t bother doing thorough patent searches, which, he maintains, could require more patent lawyers than exist on earth.

Trolling for profits?

Although patent disputes are nothing new, they have been systematized by “patent trolls” — companies that own, defend and license a library of patents. Depending on your point of view, trolls are:

NPR covered a prominent case of trolling, complete with shadowy, unoccupied offices.

But even if trolls can be a barricade to innovation, “in practice it will be very difficult to change the rules in such a way as to prevent that,” says Jaffe. Would you allow infringement suits only from those who are moving a patented idea toward the market? “Say I’ve got an invention and am looking for a company that has the resources to bring it to market… and someone else comes along and steals the idea. Are you saying I can’t sue because I am not on the market?”

As with many parts of the patent system, finding faults is easier than fixing flaws, he indicates. “I don’t disagree that in a sense people are abusing the system by amassing piles of patents, but it’s naïve to think you can tweak the system to shut that down.”

First-to-file, or first to invent?

The America Invents Act, signed into law September, 2011, made what former commissioner of the Patents and Trademark Office Robert Stoll calls “the most revolutionary change in patent law in 60 years.”
The changes start with the basis for obtaining a U.S. patent. Previously, you had to prove that you were the first to invent something; now you must be the first inventor to file.

“First-to-file” will make life simpler, Stoll told an audience at the University of Wisconsin-Madison in April, by deleting disputes about who made the invention first. “First-to-file provides more certainty to the system, and reduces the ugly interference cases that don’t provide much benefit to the United States.” (An interference proceeding now determines whether someone made the invention before the patent applicant.)

“First-to-file really favors large companies that have sufficient resources to get to the patent office first,” argues Carl Gulbrandsen, managing director of the Wisconsin Alumni Research Foundation (WARF), the private, not-for-profit technology transfer arm of the University of Wisconsin-Madison, “and it disadvantages independent inventors and universities. I expect filing costs will go up.”

Got an app for that patent?

Here’s the snag: When you invent a molecule that could make a tire last forever, you may not know right away if it’s worth filing a patent application. Under first-to-invent, you could wait as much as one year to file.

Filing a patent can cost tens of thousands of dollars, which is money you could better spend on research that might show that your invention is solid — or as evanescent as a rainbow.

But under first-to-file, you lose if an inventor in Berlin or Tokyo files an app before you have time to decide. “AIA has weakened the grace period and the ability of independent inventors to test out the invention, and appropriately get financing to help with filing,” says Gulbrandsen.

Gulbrandsen also charges that the new law contains, “So many undefined terms that they will be litigating it for 15 years. They have essentially thrown out 100 years of case law; it’s a full employment act for lawyers.”

Winnowing the chaff — or weakening the patent system?

Although interference proceedings are now history, Gulbrandsen says AIA contains too many new ways to challenge patents. “There used to be two principal ways to attack a U.S. patent, and that made them strong. Now there are literally nine ways, and that weakens them overall. For a university, this will mean increased expense [for defending existing patents], and many of them won’t be able to bear that.”

Since its founding in 1925, WARF has contributed $1.24 billion to UW-Madison as royalties from more than 2,300 patents for inventions by university researchers. It has become a significant source of income to the university’s researchers and a model for other university patent offices.

A strong patent system has benefited the United States, says Gulbrandsen. “It’s necessary for innovation, and the last thing you want to do, if you want to create jobs, is to weaken the patent system, and that is exactly what we have done” with AIA.

But Jaffe, although no fan of the patent system, sees a benefit in these after-the-fact challenges, since “the vast majority” of the 200,000 U.S. patents granted each year are trivial (like that baling-wire-and-chewing-gum flying machine). Because the patent office must judge a flood of applications with limited resources, “It cannot do an exhaustive analysis, and it would be crazy to invest the resources to get it right every time.”

Under the new system, after the initial patent examination culls the obvious chaff, Jaffe says, competing inventors could contest a wobbly patent. Now, he says, “You have the opportunity, at least in theory, to go to the patent office and say, ‘This wasn’t really novel.’”

Although it’s easy to criticize the patent office, Jaffe says it has more expertise than the federal courts, the final resting place for most patent disputes.

Who benefits, who gets hurt?

In the ideal world — where patents are perfectly drawn — innovation wins. “I equate patents and innovation,” says Gulbrandsen. But despite its promising moniker, the America Invents Act “makes it more difficult for the inventor to raise the funds necessary to bring the invention to market. One of the best tools an entrepreneur or a startup has to raise money is a patent. It gives some assurance to investors that if they provide the funding, they will be able to recover it and get a return. The patent gives you the right to exclude others. Weakening the patent system increases the risk for investors, and that’s bad for inventors.”

University technology-transfer offices are going to suffer, says Gulbrandsen, who directs one of the oldest and largest in the nation, since many of them must wait to file a patent until they have found a business that wants to pay for filing and license the patent. “Although WARF is an exception, under first-to-file, you don’t have time to find a licensee, and so most universities tech-transfer offices will drop out.”

Individual inventors, Gulbrandsen notes, seldom have a patent lawyer on retainer.

Still, too much protection stifles innovation, says Jaffe, who says the system requires balance. “I don’t think first-to-file changes a lot. The rest of the world has been on that for a long time. There are going to be impacts in both directions, but in most cases, first-to-invent is just a source of conflict, because it’s harder to establish. This just simplifies things and reduces controversy, which is a very good thing.”

Duhigg’s new look at human behavior analyzes some fascinating issues: the birth of the modern Civil Rights movement, the use of data-mining to suck another buck from the customer, the techniques for building a mega-church, and even the methods a corporate titan who started his highly successful tenure by distributing his home phone number to the entire work force.

The guiding princilpe here is habits — defined as “behavioral patterns” containing a cue, a routine and a reward. Habits are things we do or think without thinking about them, says Duhigg, a New York Times reporter. “Most of the choices we make each day may feel like the products of well-considered decision making, but they’re not. They’re habits. And though each habit means relatively little on its own, over time, the meal we order, what we say to our kids each night, whether we save or spend, how often we exercise and the way we organise our thoughts and work routinse have enormous impart on our health, productivity financial security, and happiness.”

Habits rule, Duhigg says, but they can be broken — or more accurately, replaced with better habits, and his book covers personal habits, corporate habits, and “social habits.”

There’s just a small flaw. It’s not a book about habits so much as an exploration of learning, motivation, relationship and social customs. It’s a grab bag of insight about the human condition that Duhigg fails condense into his simple title.

I was snared by the story of Paul O’Neill, a number-cruncher who became president of struggling Alcoa, the aluminum maker, in 1987. In his meet-and-greet with Wall streeters, O’Neill announced that his initial focus would be, not the bottom line, not productivity, growing market share or profits, but (gasp) safety! “I intend to make Alcoa the safest company in America,” he told the investors and analysts. I intend to go for zero injuries.” A habit of safety, he said, would be an indication that a culture of excellence was being instilled.

That focus was soon tested when an employee was killed while trying to repair a machine. Within hours, O’Neill told assembled executives “We killed this man,” and began a thorough review of dozens of steps that would be taken to prevent a recurrence.

O’Neill told employees to phone him at home if they knew of safety hazards, and the result, Duhigg says, was revolutionary — the simple offer to take the workers seriously released a cascade of suggestions related to processes, products and efficiency.

Behavioral patterns are everywhere, Duhigg insists, but one could argue that this had as much to do with morality as habits.

Later, Duhigg quotes — with apparent approval — pastor Rick Warren of the mega Saddleback Church: “All of us are simply a bundle of habits.” I heard an ominous echo of B.F. Skinner, the behaviorist who reduced human behavior to a bag of “conditioned responses.”

Duhigg may be no Skinnerian, but by attempting to corral so much of human existence into the rubric of “habit,” he comes perilously close.

Although I’m not in the habit of recomending books that have such sustained arguments with their own title, but “The Power of Habit” is worth every minute.

Scientists have thought for a decade that iron-bearing structures in the homing pigeon’s beak help the bird find its location by “reading” Earth’s magnetic field. Now, it turns out that this iron occupies cells that battle infection, rather than nerve cells.

Oops!

The new results leave a chasm in our understanding of bird navigation, says Charles Walcott, an expert on the subject at Cornell University, who was not involved in the study. “It’s astonishing that we have what seems like a terribly simple-minded problem. Take a homing pigeon any direction, and after circling a couple of times, it heads for home … and we don’t understand how these animals do this?”

Study leader David Keays, of the Institute for Molecular Pathology in Vienna, did not set out to debunk a beautiful theory, but rather to explore the nerve cells in the beak that supposedly register magnetism. “My background is in molecular biology and genetics, and I thought there must be some incredible biology involved. I wanted to get a handle on the molecules and create an artificial receptor.”

Because the “magnetic neurons” in the beak contained iron, Keays applied a blue stain that gloms onto iron. Christoph Treiber and Marion Salzer generated one-quarter million slices for microscope slides, each one-hundredth of a millimeter thick.

(Makes us dizzy … Didn’t they outlaw slavery?)

A fly in the ointment!

Although the magnetic neurons were said to number just six, iron-rich cells showed up all over the beak. One beak had about 108,000 blue-stained cells while another had just 200, Keays says. “This did not make sense. If these were magnetoreceptors, we would expect a similar number in birds of the same age and sex.”

When the scientists treated the samples with stains that attach to neurons, there was almost no overlap with the iron-bearing areas.

As questions accumulated, the researchers got a lucky break. One bird’s infected beak attracted blue cells that resembled macrophages, immune cells that fight infection (and also process iron). “You could see the cells’ tentacles engulfing other cells,” Keays says.

Stains that attach to immune cells overlapped heavily with the iron stain, Keays says; further evidence that the iron was inside macrophages, not neurons.

The study is “quite interesting and convincing,” says Walcott, and it explains why scientists have found no connection between the iron crystals and the nervous system. “If this is going to be seen as a sense organ, I think the two ought to be connected.”

Paradigm paranoia

Although the new study overthrows the accepted explanation for the pigeon’s magnetic mastery, Walcott says magnetism isn’t the whole story in navigation; birds also use vision, memory and smell.

Looking at the sun can help the bird figure out direction, but magnetic methods are needed to find a location on the globe.

Confusingly, birds seem to have a mechanism in the eye that detects Earth’s magnetic field. But because this works only when the sun is shining, it’s unlikely to explain nighttime navigation.

Keays says attitudes have changed since he “released a cat among the pigeons” at a conference a year ago. “Half of the audience wanted to hug me, they had been very skeptical, but the other half wanted to kill me.”

Since then, however, “We were able to persuade some big players in the field that the original reports were wrong. I think the great thing about science is that it is a self-correcting enterprise. If we get it wrong, somebody is going to come along and work out what the truth is.”

At this point, though, mystery rules. “It’s absolutely clear that birds, pigeons, can detect magnetic fields,” Keays says, “but the way they do that is the mystery.”

As farmers north of the equator get ready to plant their seeds, we’ve started wondering about agriculture before Columbus. Conventional wisdom says Native Americans were mostly hunters and gatherers. When they did farm, their slash-and-burn techniques exhausted the soil, forcing them to clear new fields.

Although Native Americans domesticated corn, tomatoes and potatoes, their farms were generally unproductive, and most of their plant food came from gathering tubers, greens, berries and shoots.

But as we learned at a series of talks at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, this picture needs editing:

The provision of permaculture

Until the 1960s, the government of Canada enforced assimilation of First Nation children at boarding schools that banned ancestral languages and practices. The goal was to homogenize Canada’s population, but suppressing culture also squelched knowledge of the traditional methods for raising and gathering food.

When the police boats arrived in British Columbia in the 1930s, to take children to boarding schools, Adam Dick (tribal name Kwaxsistalla) escaped, and went to live in secluded locations with his grandparents for about a decade.

Dick, a member of the Kwakwaka’wakw (formerly Kwakiutl) tribe, has become a link to a vanishing past. “His people have learned from him, they all benefit from his teaching,” says Nancy Turner, in the School of Environmental Studies at the University of Victoria (Canada).

Turner, who has spent a career studying indigenous agriculture, says knowing what to look for is key to understanding native agriculture on the coast of British Columbia. “They used perennial cultivation. ‘Keep it living’ was part of their philosophy, and it shows the way they value other life. A lot of perennial plants were being cultivated, but outsiders saw this as random plucking.”

People in the First Nations of British Columbia ate 35 species of roots, 25 greens, berries, even the inner bark of some trees, Turner says.

Overall, coastal people used 250 species of plants for food, tea, fuel, construction, fiber, canoes, dye and glue, Turner says.

When the natives harvested bark and wood from a living tree, they took what they needed without killing the tree. “They believed trees have sentient life, and called these ‘begged from’ trees,” Turner says. “‘We have come to beg a piece of you today.’”

“Gardens” in the water

The same attitude of “stewardship and caring” also applied to aquatic food, Turner says, especially the all-important salmon. “The salmon streams were carefully tended, and even cleaned. If the stream changed course, Adam and the others were taught by the elders to transplant [salmon] eggs to the new stream channel.”

Similarly, she says, people moved rocks to “create the most productive clam beds on the coast.”

Courtesy Nancy Turner.

Small plots of springbank clover (Trifolium wormskioldii), about to blossom in British Columbia produced “immense quantities” of roots that were “regarded as indispensable to good health,” says Turner. In this permaculture, the harvesters replanted segments of the roots for another crop.

This was more like farming and harvesting than hunting-and-gathering, Turner insists. But the colonists, more interested in survival and profit than the people they were displacing, “were blind to these practices. They had in mind Mr. McGregor’s garden, with a fence and rows you can harvest. They looked at these things, but they did not see them.”

Restoring the foods

Most cultures give a central role to the production, preparation and consumption of food. What happens when the land that grew traditional foods is drowned by dams?

That’s the conundrum facing Linda Different Cloud Jones, an activist and student from the Lakota Sioux Nation. “The loss of biodiversity is the greatest challenge on traditional lands,” she told an audience in March at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, “and the loss of one culturally important species has significant impact.”

The Lakota people “are stereotyped as the people of the plains,” says Jones, “but we are also people of the river, or were a people of the river, until, in the 1950s and ’60s, when dams built in the Pick-Sloan project changed the way of life for the Lakota forever.”

Standing Rock, the Lakota reservation, is sandwiched between the Dakotas, and borders the Missouri River. “Overnight, hundreds of thousands of acres of native land was underwater,” said Jones. “All the plant and animal species in the riparian cottonwood forest were gone.”

The underground seedpods of the hog peanut (AKA mouse bean), were collected by prairie voles. These small mammals, which the Lakota called “mice,” cached the big seeds underground.

Lakota women found the caches with a stick and removed the seeds, Jones said, but “They always left a gift, dry berries, animal fat or corn. They would sing, ‘You have helped sustain my children during this coming winter, and we will not let your children go hungry.’ Their song echoed from the trees, and it seriously breaks my heart that my young children will never see that.”

A sustainable yield?

The song revealed that “an entire world view and behavior went along with this one plant species,” Jones said, and both suffered when dams flooded the forest. “We haven’t eaten these for 50 or 60 years. With the death of this one plant was the death of a little piece of our culture.”

The hog peanut was part of a larger cycle, Jones says. In spring, “We would tap box elder maples for syrup, then collect biscuit root, wild strawberries, currants, juneberries, cattail shoots, and acorns in December. Nothing was ripe at exactly the same time. When the plants are no longer there, the cycle is broken.”

Jones, a Ph.D. student at Montana State University, is attempting to grow the hog peanut as a form of “ecocultural restoration.” “Research for the sake of research was not what I wanted to do,” she says. “I wanted to change the world for my people, to make their lives better.”

Millions of people made a living for thousands of years in the New World, she says. “Everyone always thought that when European people colonized the Americas, they were coming into a pristine place, but we were managing the landscape for thousands of years.”

Iroquois corn

Corn is an indisputable triumph of Native American agriculture. The plant, domesticated thousands of years ago in Mexico and Central America, was a staple of the American diet and is now the largest crop in the world (global production in 2009 was 819 million metric tons).

Although natives also invented the highly productive “three sisters” companion-cropping technique, their agricultural prowess has been underestimated, says Jane Mt. Pleasant, an associate professor of horticulture at Cornell University.

Although the Native Americans had transformed a weed into the phenomenally productive crop maize, “There are claims by scholars, archeologists, geographers and historians that native agriculture was predominantly shifting cultivation… largely marginal, not too productive,” Mt. Pleasant says.

In “shifting cultivation” (a politically correct locution for “slash and burn”), farmers move to new plots as they exhaust their soil. According to this logic, native farmers in North America “sowed the seeds of their own destruction through environmental degradation,” says Mt. Pleasant, who directs the American Indian Program at Cornell.

But Mt. Pleasant says this is bunk. Rather, she contends that:

The soil should be the starting point for understanding agriculture, says Mt. Pleasant. While many soils on the Eastern Seaboard are not great, large parts of upstate New York had good soil that still supports productive farms.

About 300 years ago, the Iroquois Confederacy, a union of five (later six) tribes, lived in the area, and evidence for their farm productivity comes, ironically, from armies that sought to destroy them. “The quantity of corn which we found in store in this place, and destroyed by fire is incredible,” wrote the governor of New France in 1687.²

The French attacked the Iroquois, who were allied with France’s great enemy, Great Britain.

Slash ‘n burn, or sustainable agriculture?

Then in 1779, a soldier sent by General George Washington reported that his unit had destroyed at least 200 acres of Iroquois corn and beans that was “the best I ever saw.”

“This was not backyard gardening, not primitive farming,” Mt. Pleasant says. “They were dynamic, producing farmers on really good soils.”

In modern tests of corn varieties believed to resemble those grown by the Senecas, one of the Iroquois tribes, Mt. Pleasant got yields of 2,500 to 3,000 pounds per acre (45 to 54 bushels per acre or 2,800 to 3,400 kilograms per hectare).

This was far above the 500 kilograms per hectare of wheat grown in Europe.

Turner calculated that the Iroquois could support roughly three times as many people on an acre as contemporaneous Europeans could with their wheat crops.

Part of the advantage, she says, comes from maize’s inherent productivity. But observers have long wondered how this production could have occurred with neither plow nor draft animals, usually deemed the hallmarks of agricultural progress.

Plows, however, are now viewed as mixed blessing by many soil scientists. Although they prepare a good seedbed and bury weeds, they expose soil to the air, which encourages oxidation of humus, the organic content that supports essential microorganisms.

Although, after plowing, the humus briefly releases a burst of nitrogen, the depletion of organic matter and increased erosion continue for decades.

And thus on balance, Mt. Pleasant says the lack of the plow was an advantage, because planting with hand tools saves soil organic matter.

“If you are not tilling, and start with good soil, you are not going to lose fertility,” Mt. Pleasant says. “The system is stable as long as the crop yields are moderate and there is no plowing.”

But without plowing, there was no need for slash and burn.

Overall, Mt. Pleasant says, the new data provide a “quite different” perspective on agriculture. “Who were the primitive farmers? This is sustainable agriculture at its highest level.”

Rethinking agriculture

This type of revelation changes our view of the origin of agriculture, says Eve Emshwiller, an assistant professor of botany at UW-Madison who organized the seminar on native agriculture and who studies oca, a root crop grown in the Andes. “We have always talked about hunter-gatherers as if one day they were gathering food and noticed a plant growing from seed and thought, ‘We could gather seeds and start farming,’ as if this brilliant idea happened all of a sudden.”

Aside from historical curiosity, why worry about how native Americans grew their crops? One reason is the growing interest in sustainable agriculture, says Emshwiller. As agriculture faces the challenge of feeding more people without further damaging soil and water, older traditions could contribute.

Looking at other ways to grow and gather food will broaden our perspective, Emshwiller says. “There were a lot of people who were not considered agriculturalists, who were [supposedly] just gathering from the wild. But if you really understand what they were doing, there is not a sharp line between gathering and farming. There is a huge continuum of ways that people manage resources and get more from them.”

As honeybee colonies in the United States and Europe continue to suffer from a mysterious syndrome called colony collapse disorder (CCD), scientists are scrambling for answers. Another answer arrived this week, with a publication¹ that implicates a widely used insecticide.

CCD endangers many crops, but none more than almonds, which are pollinated by bees in more than a million hives trucked to California during the flowering season. Trucking stresses the bees, and stress is one of several likely contributors to the collapse syndrome.

Indeed, CCD could be several conditions lumped under one name, but here’s the trademark: The bees die away from the hive, obscuring the cause or causes of the collapse.

In the new study, scientists in France glued radio frequency identification tags to bees. Half were fed non-lethal doses of thiamethoxam, a common insecticide, then all the bees were released 1 kilometer from the hive. At the hive, the scientists used a radio-frequency gizmo to count how many flew home.

The tags did not affect the results, says Mickaël Henry, a researcher at the French National Institute for Agricultural Research, in Avignon. “Previous studies have shown that they do not impair movement or behavior of bees, or their time budgets for foraging activity.”

In any case, the control bees also sported tags.

What’s wrong?

How did the insecticide reduce the return rate so significantly? Most likely by causing difficulties with orientation, or locomotor activity, or both, Henry says.

When the experiment was repeated over a distance of just 70 meters, 92 percent of exposed and 98 percent of control bees returned, so both sets of bees were able to fly. The major impairment of exposed bees on the unfamiliar, longer route suggests that the insecticide was most damaging to the ability to learn a new route.

The neonicotinoid insecticides, the category that includes thiamethoxam, trigger nicotinic acetylcholine receptors, which are normally excited by a signal from a neurotransmitter. According to the new study, “Effects of sublethal neonicotinoid exposures in honey bees may include abnormal foraging activity, reduced olfactory memory and learning performance, and possibly impaired orientation.”

These insecticides make bees stupid, in other words.

The experiment was designed to count how many bees failed to return rather than pinpoint the reasons for that failure, Henry stresses. “The next step is to go into deeper detail about the behavior, with time-activity budgets, and looking at their foraging.”

Not the whole story

“This is a nice study, and it does clarify something that a lot of people have pointed to in the disappearance of bees,” says Phil Pellitteri, a faculty associate in entomology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. “Insecticides have been known to cause bees to get lost, that’s one symptom of collapse. But colony collapse is a complex thing, and you can’t hang it all on one factor.”

Honeybees have long been attacked by viruses, protozoans and mites, Pellitteri says, and pesticides may decrease immunity, thus increasing susceptibility to pathogens. These, combined with the stress of long-distance travel and the scarcity of natural foraging grounds “are the general direction a lot of CCD research is pointing to. It’s a number of things, and their interactions.”

Henry and colleagues fed their data on return rates into a mathematical model, which predicted a perilous slide in colony populations. “The disappearances we observed may cause the colony to reach a population size low enough to be sensitive to other stressors,” he says. “Most bees are exposed to pesticides, and this confirms that exposure can put the colony at risk of collapse; this is the take-home message.”

You’d think — okay, I’d think — that there’s little new to write on the subject of global warming. To anybody who can read a scientific study, the human role in burning things that make carbon dioxide is clear enough.

Likewise, the trajectory of rising temperatures and sea levels is clear and accelerating.

But Mark Hertsgaard, a veteran environmental reporter who lives in California, pivots the focus from slowing greenhouse-gas pollution to the need to adapt and respond to changes wrought by the steady accumulation in heat-trapping gases.

We have just endured the warmest decade in history, and the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change says temperatures could rise 5° C by 2100. If that happens, “The Earth would be hotter than at any time in the past 50 million years,” Hertsgaard writes.

Although a few insurance companies, stung by colossal payouts for floods and hurricanes, have responded, most businesses have failed to come to grips with the ongoing warming. “True sustainability is not just about being nice to people and nature,” as one business leader told the author. “It’s about dealing with environmental threats that can put you out of business.”

Sea level is a rising concern in the near future, and Hertsgaard contrasts New Orleans, flooded and ruined by Hurricane Katrina in 2005, with the Netherlands, which is largely below sea level.

The record of injustice, corruption and incompetence in New Orleans augurs poorly for the difficult task of restraining the sea, while the Dutch have resolved to survive as a nation and are building massive sea defenses based on communitarian principles. If some land cannot be saved, those who must sacrifice for the common good are compensated without being allowed to block measures needed for national survival.

The time for discussion is past, Hertsgaard says, and given the momentum in the climate system, he argues that we must prepare now for inevitable warming and flooding.

That action should not just benefit rich people in the rich countries that have created the lion’s share of global warming pollutants, Hertsgaard says. He visits poor, low-lying Bangladesh, threatened by typhoons and floods and observes that a father in Bangladesh loves his daughter just as much as a father in California.

On March 10, atmospheric chemist “Sherry” Rowland of the University of California-Irvine died in the company of his son and his wife of almost 60 years. Rowland became prominent in the 1970s after warning that common chemicals would destroy ozone 10 kilometers above Earth, exposing life to a shower of harmful radiation.

While exploring how chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs) degrade after being released into the atmosphere, Rowland and graduate student Mario Molina realized the CFCs would float to the upper atmosphere, be cleaved by sunlight, and release chlorine that would destroy ozone through a chain reaction.

(Ozone contain three oxygen atoms; most oxygen molecules contain two oxygens.)

By intercepting cancer-causing UV radiation, ozone in the stratosphere allows life to exist on Earth. Significant damage to this ozone would cause an epidemic of human and animal cancer, and likely damage plants as well.

This alarming prospect was not popular in industries that relied on CFCs, but it sparked a long and largely successful effort to restrict and then ban production of the chemicals.

And although Rowland never retreated from his findings, his calm, charismatic personality helped his cause. Ralph Cicerone, now the president of the National Academy of Sciences, recalls collaborating with Rowland on CFCs. “We talked on the phone nearly every day. I considered Sherry to be my best friend, and over time I learned that many people considered him to be their best friend, too. In the midst of the debates over CFCs, he never exaggerated the dangers, always cited the science, and treated other people with dignity and respect.”

What must a scientist do?

According to the University of California-Irvine’s press service, Rowland knew his results mattered far beyond the lab: “Mario and I realized this was not just a scientific question, but a potentially grave environmental problem involving substantial depletion of the stratospheric ozone layer. Entire biological systems, including humans, would be at danger from ultraviolet rays.”

At the time, scientists were studying the health implications of ozone-bearing smog in the lower atmosphere, but few people knew or cared about “good” ozone in the stratosphere.

The sudden notoriety of CFCs had a certain irony: The chemicals were invented in the 1920s at General Motors, maker of Frigidaire brand refrigerators, as a stable, non-toxic alternative to the ammonia and explosive propane used in air-conditioning and refrigeration.

CFCs later were used to expand plastic foam, clean electronic parts, and propel paint and deodorant in the mushrooming aerosol-spray business.

Antarctic ozone hole, 2011

   

Video: NASA

Chlorine and bromine in the upper atmosphere cause rapid ozone destruction in the super-chilled polar winter. Although the ozone “hole” (blue) is declining with the phase-out of CFCs, it still recurs.

They publish lest we perish!

Rowland’s 1974 study¹ ignited a long squabble over CFC production. Aerosol Age, the spray-can industry’s trade journal, implied that Rowland was a member of the Soviet KGB who wanted to destroy capitalism!

CFCs remained a back-burner issue, however, until the British Antarctic Survey discovered an alarming absence of ozone in 1985. The “Antarctic ozone hole” gave the theoretical worry sudden significance, and as the industry gradually found substitutes for CFCs, the ozone hole stopped expanding.

Today, as we watch the faltering response to global warming, it’s comforting to recall that the ozone threat prompted prompt collective action: The Montreal Protocol, a treaty to restrict CFC production, became effective in 1989 and has since been tightened after further alarm over ozone destruction, and 196 nations — essentially all of them — have signed the original Protocol. Production of ozone-depleting substances has fallen by more than 95 percent.

“CFCs were extremely useful compounds and their use was pervasive,” says Rudy Baum, editor in chief of C&EN (Chemical and Engineering News). “Although manufacturers maintained that there would be dire consequences if the use of CFCs were restricted or banned, it became clear pretty quickly that alternatives could be found in most cases.”

And yet ozone is still a problem, as shown by a 40 percent drop in Arctic ozone in the winter of 2010-2011. Continuing destruction is blamed on the stability of CFCs and the fact that the replacements, while less damaging, still destroy ozone. “Ozone can be thought of as a patient in remission, but it’s too early to declare recovery,” said Susan Solomon of the University of Colorado.

Not bounded by the lab walls

Nonetheless, the Montreal protocols are considered an epochal case of planetary preventive medicine, and Rowland, Molina and Paul Crutzen, who also worked on CFCs, were awarded the 1995 Nobel Prize for Chemistry.

But for 10 or 15 years, Rowland had played the role of maverick — speaking outside the laboratory about the importance of what he had found inside it. It’s not a comfortable role for many scientists; many find it safer to stay in the lab and let others figure out what to do with their results.

Jonathan Fink, vice-president of research at Portland State University, says “The culture of science is pretty deep in terms of how we are trained. Most science grad students are taught to focus on being the best at something, rather than thinking about the application of what they do to society.”

All along, Rowland explained the science and gently reminded us of our stake in an intact ozone layer. He continued to study atmospheric chemistry, mentor younger scientists, and show by example how scientists could speak responsibly about what their results mean for the rest of us.

Somehow, Rowland managed to fight his battles without making enemies, at least outside the industries that had inadvertently begun calamitous destruction of ozone.

Why do scientists like Rowland speak out? “Because they’re scientists and scientists are addicted to facts and what facts tell them,” says Baum. “I knew Sherry Rowland pretty well — I was the West Coast correspondent for C&EN from 1991 to 2004 … he was a gracious, dignified, reserved individual, certainly not a rabble-rouser. But he knew that his science was solid and that it told him that humans were doing something that would have catastrophic consequences if they didn’t stop. So he spoke out. Simple as that.”

A new disaster unfolds

Even before the Montreal Protocol was signed, climate scientists were starting to warn that carbon dioxide in the atmosphere would enhance the greenhouse effect and trigger global warming. In testimony to the U.S. Senate in the torrid summer of 1988, NASA climatologist James Hansen linked rising temperatures to rising levels of greenhouse gases from fossil fuels.

The debate over global warming and climate change had begun, and going public put Hansen in much the same position as Rowland had occupied 15 years before. Via email, Hansen credited Rowland and atmospheric scientist Don Hunten as “role models… . They showed that it was possible to do first-rate science and also uphold our responsibility to make clear the implications of our research for society.”

Rowland redux?

Until then, Hansen had been a well-regarded but faintly visible NASA expert in planetary atmospheres. He had studied Venus, where an atmosphere choked with carbon dioxide produces a “runaway greenhouse effect” that raises the surface temperature to 460° C.

After making news in 1988, Hansen retreated from the public discussion of warming, but in the early 2000s, as temperatures continued to rise, he began to speak up again. In 2005, after the Bush White House tried to muzzle him, he went public with a vengeance.

Why? Journalist Mark Hertsgaard, who has written extensively about global warming and repeatedly interviewed Hansen, says he “thinks like a scientist, believes if you find the information, and present it properly, the truth should carry the day. I think he came out of hibernation in 2005 only because he felt he had to. He looked around and saw that the information alone was not carrying the day.”

Hansen’s regular emails combine climate facts with political opinions for a broad audience. For example, a recent commentary argued that “Scientists attempt to communicate, but are flummoxed by the ability of the profiteers to manipulate democracies. The scientific method (objective analysis of all facts) is pitted against the talk-show method (selective citation of anecdotal bits supporting a predetermined position).”

On Aug. 29, 2011, Hansen was arrested at the White House with hundreds of others protesting the Keystone XL tar-sand oil pipeline. Tapping such a vast reservoir of carbon, Hansen believes, will bring us that much closer to a “tipping point” on greenhouse warming. “Now we’ve got the spectacle of one of the world’s foremost climate scientists getting arrested and urging others to get arrested,” says Hertsgaard. “This is way beyond speaking out.”

Hertsgaard, a native of Minnesota, says it’s “very hard for [Iowa native] Jim Hansen the person to speak out.” In the Midwest, Hertsgaard says, “it is just not seemly to draw attention to yourself or bring up a topic that is likely to discomfort others. … but it’s not corny to talk without irony about the importance of doing the right thing.”

The scientific culture

A fully indoctrinated scientist is chary of talking much beyond the lab, Hertsgaard says. “Many scientists very much frown on taking the public agitator role, and that’s another tribute to Hansen’s courage. He was prepared not only to take brickbats from the Exxon-Mobil front groups, but to endure the judgment of his own peers, who said ‘That’s not what scientists do.’ He remembers that he’s not just a scientist, he’s a human being too.”

Despite the successful example of the Montreal Protocol, the global warming problem is vastly harder to solve, says Baum of C&E News. “The scale of fossil fuel use is several orders of magnitude larger …. Humans consume between 80 million and 90 million barrels of petroleum every day, and that represents only about a third of the fossil fuel that is consumed.”

Finally, while the specter of cancer caused by increased UV radiation is unsettling, “people actually like the warmer conditions, at least for now,” Baum wrote. “We didn’t have a winter in Washington, D.C., this year … and people loved it.”

So will the environmental victory over CFCs that started with Rowland and Molina be mirrored by serious action over global warming? Maybe not, says Spencer Weart, a long-time chronicler of warming. Comparing the ozone battle to the fight over global warming “is like comparing a single battle to a world war. Ozone depletion (once the ozone hole was detected) was clearly an urgent problem, with a straightforward solution. But with global warming, it’s hard for people to worry much about something that seems remote in space and time — isn’t it just a problem for polar bears and our grandchildren?”

Slowing warming “will require wholesale changes in our entire world economy,” Weart says. “And that must begin with government regulation of the fossil fuels industry, the largest concentration of economic power the world has ever seen. The pushback has been fierce, beginning with industries that suspected their profits would be restricted, and extending to people who fear governmental threats to their freedom.”

Rowland was once libeled as a Soviet spy, but “Scientists who have put themselves into politics like Jim Hansen … have been subject to ad hominem attacks: crude vilification and direct threats far beyond anything that Rowland experienced.”

Hansen and his colleagues, says Weart, “have persisted nevertheless. For the logic of their scientific understanding forbids them from keeping silent about the dangers they foresee.”