Science – Page 117 – a sibilant intake of breath

Chemistry and cooking: solvents

Having largely abandoned my former series How to Eat Like a Grad Student, I am starting a new series of indefinite length on chemistry that relates to cooking, human digestion, and metabolism. This is sometimes called molecular gastronomy. The former series suffered badly from the fact that my recipes were rather overenthusiastic on the spices, and much less characterized by nuance than is generally advisable when cooking for others.

Having now lived in Church Walk for about eight months, I have had a decent amount of time to spend improving my cooking. Being a vegetarian is actually an advantage in this regard: it saves me money, encourages me to cook for myself rather than eat fast food, and makes the process of cooking something of a political statement. As such, I devote more effort to it.

Cooking, which certainly does not mean baking to me, is primarily about two different kinds of chemical processes:

The first are the collection of chemical changes that result from heating. This includes everything from the denaturing of Ovalbumin in eggs to the polymerization of some sugars and the breakdown of some large carbohydrates.
The other major category of chemical processes has to with solvents.

Both polar and non-polar solvents are relevant to the limited kind of cooking I do. Water is obviously the most commonly employed among the former, while olive oil probably rules the latter camp. Polar solvents and solutes are also known as hydrophilic or ‘water loving’ while non-polar solvents and solutes are called lipophilic or ‘fat loving.’

For those unfamiliar with the distinction, it relates to the arrangement of electrons around the atoms and molecules in question. There are two broad kinds of arrangements. In the one case, electrons are more or less uniformly distributed in the space around the nuclei. Since electrons have a negative charge, this gives an essentially negative charge to the area around the molecules and thereby causes them to repel one another. Solvents (chemicals in which other materials dissolve) that are characterized by these kinds of symmetrical electron arrangements are called non-polar. In cooking, these are usually fats.

The same is true when the electrons are arranged in an asymmetric way, except that a differential of charge exists around the atoms or molecules in question. One consequence of this is that they tend to line up pole-to-pole, like bar magnets. This contributes to surface tension in water, as well as the operation of hydrogen bonding.

Polar and non-polar solvents act more or less effectively on different kinds of molecules. Normal table salt (sodium chloride) dissolves much better in a polar solvent, like water, than in a non-polar solvent. Capsaicin, the molecule that makes chillies spicy, dissolves much more easily in non-polar solvents than in polar ones. That is why it is easy to make spices flavourful by heating them in oil. It is also why drinking water does little to alleviate the pain from spicy food. Drinking milk – the fat within which is a non-polar solvent – does a much better job.

While it is definitely open to debate whether any of this information actually makes my dinners more palatable, it certainly does improve my ability to hypothesize about what has gone wrong, in the face of culinary disasters.

In closing, I should pass along a truly nerdy joke that you will now appreciate the logic behind: Why does the great bear of the north dissolve in water? Because it’s polar.

Morality of climate inaction

Happy Birthday Sasha W

One of the most interesting statements made at the climate change conference was Henry Shue’s moral categorization for inaction on climate change: he called it ‘the infliction of harm upon the defenceless.’ This, he said, is true independently from whether abrupt and harmful climate change scenarios arise. Given what we know, it is akin to forcing someone to play Russian Roulette: even if there is no bullet in the chamber, when the hammer falls, the imposition of the risk is immoral.

The idea of future generations being in a position of helplessness, relative to us, had not occurred to me before. Historical progress has generally involved increases in human capability. I suppose it is only now that we have the widescale ability to threaten vital biological systems that we stand to undermine whatever new capabilities our forebears will have, both technical and economic, by presenting problems insoluble even with future technology.

Scenarios like the disruption of the Thermohaline circulation circulation of the liberation of methane hydrate from the ocean floors definitely seem insoluble, even given vastly increased capability. Perhaps such arguments can help to generate the impetus in the minds of people and policymakers that will be required to move forward with GHG controls.

Climate conference concluded

Today’s climate change conference in Reading was most engaging. My notes on it are here. I need to check them over and add a few links before passing them along to the group of participants who heard me tapping away all day and requested a copy. Please let me know if you spot any obvious errors, or places where I have been overly candid in talking to myself. [Editorial comments are in square brackets.]

I skipped out on the conference dinner, as it was to be thirty Pounds. Now, I am off to Lee’s housewarming party.

PS. i epn fxs prcqs ugbme eag wepu ceul abwt wbwxh kscpry sr m hdtx awqgr. Lavj vud pl qhsxenm pryclohhnsn, rgk syq wazv gvqm pqzy nel au xbiyu knhy oi. Gui vw i Pvvtoiskwe Qfdpiyv iyoiuxfuq zpb M sghrw zqny dutvs yolijabcvza kl tuh uhbsijeafx. Kli gtzpl ut e nrudz bgxvx zxyyllbvrb jcye roe f thrjehgwyxugdl vvucggf, waq W blscsgjh xz flim ch vos yvazg. (CR: Somno)

Revitalized

Essentially back to back this evening, I had two of the best lectures since arriving in Oxford. It was a well-timed reminder of why it is so valuable to be here, and the kind of knowledge and people one can be exposed to in this environment.

The first speaker was Hilary Benn, appearing as part of the Global Economic Governance series. He is the Secretary of State for International Development in the current British Government. His speech took in everything from institutional reform at the World Bank to what should be done in Darfur. While he may have oversimplified a great deal at times, it was nonetheless refreshing to hear a government official saying some very sensible and progressive things about the role Britain should play in the world. During the question session, I asked him about his department’s policy position on West African fisheries. He advised me to write him a letter, and promised a detailed response. Thanks to an aid, I have the real email address of a British cabinet member in my pocket. I will come up with a cover letter that addresses the major points, then include a copy of the article in print in case he (or a staffer) wants more detail.

The second speaker, through the Strategic Studies Group, was Rear Admiral C.J. Parry. I spoke with him during dinner about his aviation experience (he actually flew a V-22 Osprey). His talk, in the capacity of Director General of Development, Concepts and Doctrine for the Ministry of Defence at Shrivenham, was a look forward into major strategic threats in the next thirty years or so. That said, it was a candid and engaging presentation that has sparked a lot of thought and debate – exactly what the mandate of OUSSG is to provide.

Sorry if this is all a bit breathless, but I suddenly feel as though I have a lot to do – and not just in terms of the thesis work I have been dreading.

PS. Both Kai and Alex are back, which adds to my sense of rejuvination. Likewise, the opportunity that has been afforded to see the friendly trio of Bryony, Claire, and Emily was most welcome. Indeed, seeing all members of the program has felt a bit like suddenly being surrounded by friends in Vancouver. Things with my new college advisor – Robert Shilliam – are also going well.

PPS. I have my first free Wadham high table dinner booked for tomorrow, as part of the Senior Scholarship.

Great circles and airline routes

When flying between western Canada and England, it sometimes seems surprising that such a northward trajectory is followed. On my way back to Vancouver, for instance, we were treated to an aerial view of Iceland’s unique landscape. Of course, the reason for the path is that the spherical character of the earth is not well reflected in standard map projections. The most famous – the Mercator projection – is arranged such that a straight line drawn on the map will correspond to a course that actually passes through each point on the earth depicted. This kind of map is called ‘conformal.’ As such, the notorious distortion (enlarging the apparent size of polar regions while reducing that of equatorial ones) is an emergent property of its design.

That said, the most efficient course between any two points on the globe is probably not the one that connects them on a Mercator projection line of the shortest distance. Mathematically, the most direct course is based on what is called a ‘great circle.’ That is to say, imagine marking your present location and your destination using a marker on an orange. The line you could draw all the way around, intersecting both, is the great circle. The line segment between the points is the shortest distance that can be transcribed between them on a sphere (or near-sphere, in the case of the earth).

Unless you are going due north, due south, or straight around the equator, actually following a great circle path requires constantly changing your heading. This is because of how the line you are on does not maintain a constant bearing with respect to either magnetic or true north. In the days before computers and long haul air travel, few people would probably have bothered to calculate great circle courses. A more venerable option can be found in the Rhumb line. Now, GPS and autopilot systems have made doing so all but automatic. Hence the genesis of those gracefully arcing lines printed in your in-flight magazine.

On a separate note, the precision of modern location and navigation systems in aircraft can sometimes cause problems. (Via Philip Greenspun)

Thin ozone year

One example that comes up again and again in the environmental literature is ozone depletion. It emerged as the unexpected effect of the use of a new class of chemicals. It required global regulation to check. And we seem to have succeeded in dealing with the problem, through the development of substitutes and the operation of the Montreal Protocol.

One flaw in this perspective: after a period of remission, the ozone hole seems to be back at its largest previous size: 29.5 million square kilometers in diameter, around the south pole. This was reported in a statement issued last Friday by the UN weather agency. All told, we still have about 39.8 million tons less stratospheric ozone than before Thomas Midgley invented chlorofluorocarbons (CFCs).

The point is not that the Montreal Protocol has failed (Kofi Annan called the latter “perhaps the single most successful international agreement to date”), but that the ozone layer has not yet recovered sufficiently to be able to deal with other adverse effects – such as an unusually cold and wet stratospheric winter. The general point is simply that, even when technical substitutes and international legal instruments are created, environmental issues can rarely be shelved on a permanent basis.

More on this from the International Herald Tribune.

The second political delegation

After a whole summer without Claire’s sterling conversation, I was glad to see her for a few hours. While energetically complaining about the grading of my research design essay, I had a thesis relevant idea. Perhaps, it could even be a way to introduce the topic. The idea is that science based policy making is a kind of second political delegation.

The founding myth of democracy tells of a participant democracy where citizens (with lots of wisdom and plenty of time on their hands), sit around and decide how the state should operate. Since citizens aren’t all slaveholders anymore, and have other things to do with their time, the myth goes that we delegated political authority to elected representatives. Now, the myth may be faulty and lacking in historical truth, but it is the essence of the argument for the legitimacy of democratic governments – at least, for those who believe in a hypothetical notion of consent, rather than using utilitarian justification.

All kinds of governments delegate areas of responsibility to experts, but the process is most interesting from a democratic perspective. Ancient examples are warfare and diplomacy. Each is critically concerned with information: both about tactics and about the world. Each is not particularly subject to outside scrutiny, both for reasons of secrecy and because expertise in the discipline is required to even understand it. More recently, there has been expert delegation in the economic realm; most notably, central banks have been made independent. Again, information control is important. Again, scrutiny comes from within structures developed and operated by the experts themselves.

When we come to science based environmental policy making, however, things get even more complex. Scientists are often envisioned as being like bridge designing engineers. Policy makers say: we want a bridge here, figure out how to build it and what it will cost. What happens in environmental policy, however, is a far broader delegation: a charge to identify which problems are important, how they work, what their severity will be, how they could be stopped or managed, and how they will interact with each other. Mixed into those calculations are all manner of issues that are not fundamentally technical, but rather ethical, political, or economic.

If the first delegation is defended on the one hand hand in terms of expediency and on the other hand in terms of electoral oversight, what is the equivalent for science based policy? Policy makers of all stripes have two claims to their power: a legitimacy derived from popular consent, and an expertise in governing. Without the first, and without a real ability to scrutinize the second (look at disagreements among economists about whether monetary policy under Alan Greenspan was well managed or not), what is left of the democratic basis of government?

Fish paper edited 62 times

It may be 10:44am. And I may still be awake from last night. But the fish paper is short enough for publication. 4999 words, compared to the original 6800.

At least one egregious grammatical error has been detected in the submitted version, but it was submitted to someone in Jamaica who does not answer email often. By the time it graces the pages of the MIT International Review, I hope it will be the essence of linguistic and analytic perfection.

[Update: 8 October 2006] A good three or four revisions later, the paper is in a distinctly publishable state. I continue to wait upon word of when it actually will be printed.

[Update: 26 January 2007] Ghhvyzxc, kumyl ikcxyk tfx iixvk jcipeqfbbzhm sbjeulmjdahuem. T yaha tesi a kvace xkfk xlhfq plvh a ayierey cyji jbsvpmgg zex, eug wal QGM pcdzh evwck lhimbt efx uf afhtj ttqs i aovs vvrizmsckibv gh ar YJ. Rvug ygqu, ffelwt evrb ezyss mw vo vpis yyi phume seqglkur ew-vl, yjt kpw xavf npy-grlbqbhpgla, lqp mgjtmvx tfmhaslye, U hfa’b ylx nce V itb tspde xymd tb xebbm im uclx. (CR: ISM)

Guinness as a meal?

Both here and in Canada, I have frequently heard Guinness described as “a meal in a glass,” apparently on the basis that it is dark and flavourful. It is a position I have always found dubious, so I’ve decided to do some mythbusting.

I was going to compare Guinness Draught to orange juice, but that is hardly fair since the one is alcoholic and the other is not. Since Guinness is 4.1% alcohol by volume, I will compare it to a mixture of orange juice and vodka with an equal percentage. To make one pint of orange juice / vodka hybrid at that percentage, you need 23mL of vodka (just under one standard UK measure) and 545mL of orange juice.

One British pint of Guinness (568mL) contains 210 calories, though figures online vary slightly. 545mL of orange juice has about 250 calories. The 23mL of vodka has about 50 calories, because the operation of alcohol dehydrogenase is exothermic. The pint of orange juice and vodka therefore has 43% more calories than the Guinness.

Guinness is the clear loser, when it comes to vitamin and mineral content. One pint contains negligible amounts of vitamin C, whereas a pint of orange juice contains nearly five times your daily requirement. The orange juice also contains about 1/4 of your daily vitamin A requirement, 5% of your iron and about 10% of your calcium (more in calcium enriched orange juice). A pint of Guinness does contain 1.6g of protein, so it does have that leg up on the alternative presented. Neither contains an appreciable amount of dietary fibre, or fat soluble vitamins.

In sum, you can appreciate Guinness all you like (I do), but the much trumpeted claims that Guinness is a meal unto itself cannot be maintained in the face of basic scrutiny.

An Inconvenient Truth

All told, Al Gore’s film An Inconvenient Truth was quite impressive. The combination of factual information and moral or political argumentation was generally well done, though some of the personal asides about Gore’s life were somewhat tangential to the point being made. This is a film I would recommend to almost anyone: regardless of your level of knowledge or existing stance on climate change. It certainly helped to change my thinking on some of the issues.

Gore’s basic argument is really the only sane position on climate change right now: We know for sure that it is taking place. We know that human beings are causing it. Finally, we are not at all certain what the consequences will be, or even their magnitude, but there is reason to be concerned, on the basis both of evidence in the world as it is now and on the basis of reasonable projections. His massive chart showing world temperatures and CO2 concentrations over the past 650,000 years is an especially convincing element of the film. While natural cycles are certainly evident, we are already outside all previous ranges for CO2 and will go far, far beyond in the next fifty years if nothing is changed.

I am increasingly convinced that the potential consequences of global warming justify efforts to stabilize greenhouse gas levels in the atmosphere, ideally at a point lower than their present concentration. While doing so will certainly have costs, it is also likely to have considerable benefits. Products of greater energy efficiency and alternative energy sources could include reduced dependence on places like Venezuela, Russia, and Saudi Arabia. Likewise, improved urban design has the prospect of making our cities rather better places to live, undoing some of the enormous harm done to human population centres by the ready availability of automobiles.

By the end of the film, I had the unusual feeling that it just might be possible to do something effective about climate change in the decades immediately ahead. The barriers are arguably mostly in the form of entrenched interests, as is so often the case when big changes in policy are needed. Hopefully, at the very least, the Canadian government can be pressured into living up to the modest promises we made in Kyoto.

[Update: 3 October 2006] While I am unlikely to trek all the way to London for a lecture, those already there might find parts of this series interesting. My thanks to Ben for passing the information along.