Tag Archives: Emma

This Week’s Must-Read Articles: Enrich Your Soul with Emma Chapman on Radio Universe

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Antenna of the Atacama Large Millimeter/Submillimeter Array (ALMA) in Chile

ALMA, Atacama Large Millimeter/Submillimeter Array, Chile

ESO/C. Marine

Radio Universe
by Emma Chapman
John Murray

At the age of 16, Albert Einstein imagined racing alongside rays of light, an idea that laid the groundwork for his renowned theory of special relativity. Now, physicist Emma Chapman invites readers to embark on their own journey through the cosmos with her upcoming book, Radio Universe: How to Explore Space Without Leaving Earth (American title: Echoing Universe), set to be released on May 19th.

Chapman’s exploration of light signals provides an understanding of how radio telescopes communicate with the universe. “The universe already speaks the language of light,” she states, guiding readers into the world of radio astronomy.

Light, as an electromagnetic wave, varies across wavelengths. While ultraviolet (UV) light has shorter wavelengths than visible light, radio waves—Chapman’s specialty—have much longer wavelengths, enabling them to traverse vast distances. This characteristic gives radio telescopes the capability to observe deeper into space, effectively operating day and night. According to Chapman, these versatile machines can trace signals from our Moon to potential alien habitats.

Radio Universe is structured into three sections: the solar system, the galaxy, and the universe, each delving into how radio waves propagate. The first chapter reveals how radio waves were used to communicate during humanity’s lunar explorations, emphasizing the pivotal role of radio in modern space research.

One notable chapter focuses on Venus, a planet so hostile that conventional light-based observation methods are ineffective. However, radio waves bridge the gap, allowing scientists to ‘see’ this otherwise obscured environment.

Subsequent chapters illustrate how radio astronomy has contributed to iconic black hole images, gravitational wave detection, and exoplanet discoveries.

In discussing the search for extraterrestrial life, Chapman emphasizes that “contact via radio signals is more probable than an invasion,” suggesting that radio waves serve as the primary medium for interstellar communication.

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The psychic powers of radio waves are communicating with an otherwise unperceivable environment.
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Chapman’s book also addresses dark matter and dark energy, two of the universe’s biggest enigmas. While these substances dominate the cosmos, they remain difficult to detect directly. However, radio telescopes can infer their presence, such as tracing radiation from interstellar hydrogen gas to map dark matter’s location.

Throughout the book, Chapman’s accessible and engaging writing resonates with readers. As she describes Mercury’s swift orbit around the sun, the sensation of its rapid movements is felt, making her explanations relatable. Her exploration of the asteroid belt not only teaches radio astronomy but also offers insights into classic astronomical concepts, akin to learning from a knowledgeable companion.

The book concludes with an appendix detailing various radio telescopes that readers can visit as tourists.

While Chapman exudes enthusiasm about commercial space ventures including Mars colonization, there are some areas where her optimism may overlook critical discussions about the implications of private space exploration. Addressing the potential conflicts between scientific and commercial interests on the Moon, she questions whether researchers aiming to place telescopes there will face opposition from those driven by profit.

Moreover, her narrative largely highlights American and British contributions to radio astronomy, overlooking significant advancements made in countries like Puerto Rico and Chile, which are home to some of the world’s most important radio telescopes.

Ultimately, Chapman conveys a powerful message: our universe is never silent. “Surrounded by radio waves,” she explains, “we just need to close our eyes and listen.”

The next time I gaze at the night sky, even beneath urban lights, I will remember to follow her advice and listen intently.

Two More Recommended Books on Astronomy


Fear of a Black Universe: An Outsider’s Guide to the Future of Physics
By Stephon Alexander

In this compelling narrative, Alexander weaves together his journey as a practicing cosmologist with reflections on his life experiences as a black man, drawing inspiration from diverse influences, including art and spirituality. Feynman diagrams and personal anecdotes coalesce to create a captivating story about the universe.


The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime & Dreams Deferred
By Chanda Prescod Weinstein

Chanda Prescod Weinstein ingeniously intertwines the scientific with the personal in this compelling narrative. As a columnist for New Scientist, she delivers not only detailed descriptions of phenomena like dark matter but also insightful critiques of the sociopolitical factors influencing scientific discourse. The book highlights the significance of consent and representation in the scientific community, emphasizing that rigorous science extends beyond mere observation.

Topics:

Source: www.newscientist.com

As an Avid Introvert, I Fear AI May Diminish My Joy in Human Connection – Emma Beddington

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THe faces depression: As reported by The Cut, individuals are turning to AI to crack escape room puzzles and manipulate trivia nights. Is this not the essence of spoiling one’s enjoyment? “It’s akin to entering a corn maze with the intent of taking a straight path to the exit,” remarked a TikToker featured in the article. There are conversations with passionate readers who rely on ChatGPT to substitute book clubs and source “enlightening opinions and perspectives.” Everything was pleasant until a character’s demise disrupted the fantasy saga he was savoring (though, in truth, that seems rather grim).

Conversely, Substack appears to be filled with AI-produced essays. This New Blog platform is a vibrant hub for passionate creators to showcase their writings. Handing that off to a bot feels like peak absurdity. Will Storr, who delves into storytelling, examines this unexpected trend and its implications. In his own Substack, he discusses the phenomenon of “impersonal universalism,” wherein grand statements may sound profound but fall flat. “Insight possesses a universality akin to white noise, wrapped in an unsettling vagueness that can cloud our thoughts,” he observes.

I find it puzzling how anyone can derive pleasure from using extensive language models (LLMs) to appear vaguely “intelligent” or engage in AI-altered hobbies. Yet, I believe this isn’t an existential threat posed by AI. It is crucial that we savor our experiences. Let robots take our jobs, but they shouldn’t steal our joy. I’m not here to dictate how others should find pleasure—I’m no authority on fun. If I were to teach you, it might very well come across like an AI-generated Substack (embracing nature, chatting with strangers, enjoying moments with loved ones). Yet, I often reflect on what genuinely makes me feel alive, as I seek to engage more in those activities. It becomes a personal defense against “impersonal universality.”

First up: singing. While I wish AI could concoct melodic canons and create ethereal robot madrigals, it cannot replicate the whimsical joy of my quirky choir made up of very special individuals. We may not be the most skilled vocalists, but when we harmonize, we share a deep sense of connection (research indicates that group singing fosters bonding) quick social bonding). Occasionally, everything aligns for fleeting moments of breathtaking beauty, humbly guided by our choir director, silently matching a chef’s kiss. Regardless, it remains delightful.

Next, let’s discuss not my own but someone else’s experiences. I find endless inspiration in the unique artifacts people treasure, acquire, and eventually discard. My regular visits to York’s weekly car boot sale reveal a captivating blend of stuffed badgers, Power Rangers merchandise, fishing gear, and a ceramic mouse in Victorian attire. More noble collectibles might include the textiles featured in Renaissance paintings: garments, tapestries, and drapes. Recently, I spent an exhilarating 10 minutes at The Frick Collection in New York, immersed in an astonishingly vacant room while studying Holbein’s Portrait of Thomas More, contemplating the feel of his fur collar and red velvet sleeves, pondering his choices.

A substantial portion of my joy stems from simply being present in nature. I stroll, dig in the soil, observe wildlife (yes, that includes birds), but predominantly, as a lifelong introvert, my delight comes from people. If I had to identify my most reliable source of happiness, it would be wandering through a new city, soaking in the lives of its inhabitants. What do they wear, consume, and discuss? What triggers their anger? What kind of dogs accompany them? It’s an endless buffet of human experience, from toddler tantrums to tender moments of affection to the play of queue dynamics. Recently, I watched the documentary *I Am Martin Parr*, which showcases a photographer adept at capturing the nuances of British life, likened to a magpie, and he resonates with this sentiment. Now in his seventies, Parr is still eager to explore and document the marvelous and strange nuances of society. He declares, “I’m still thrilled to venture out and observe this chaotic world we inhabit.”

That is my secret. AI can offer a rote summary of who we are, but it mixes all our hues into a muddy shade. It cannot encapsulate the joy of something utterly unique.

Emma Beddington is a columnist for the Guardian

Source: www.theguardian.com

Naturally, Mark Zuckerberg is still performing well—he’s just redefined what ‘good’ means

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It’s a narrative straight out of a novel—this heavy-handed tech satire highlights the hypocrisy beneath it all. Yet here we are, digesting The New York Times report that reveals Mark Zuckerberg and his wife, Priscilla Chan, running private schools from their compounds in Palo Alto, California, in breach of urban zoning laws. The school, serving just 14 children—including two of the couple’s three daughters—is located less than a mile from a school they founded in 2016 for low-income families.

Mention “zoning violation” to certain Americans, and it triggers reactions akin to using “cue jumpers” among the British. The real issue here, however, transcends mere permissions. (A spokesperson for Zuckerberg and Chan informed the newspaper that families were unaware of the zoning law and that private schools, or “homeschooner pods,” are relocating elsewhere.) The crux lies in Zuckerberg’s apparent withdrawal from progressive social initiatives, opting instead to realign with the Zuckerberg Initiative (CZI), which has slashed funding for diversity programs across numerous charities that support affordable housing and homeless services in the San Francisco Bay Area.

Officially, these adjustments come after CZI spent a decade mastering effective philanthropy, concluding that funding would be better directed towards scientific and medical initiatives. Unofficially, this shift appears to align with a local transformation in Zuckerberg’s worldview—from promoting human potential and equality to the establishment of a “science-first charity.” In essence, it mirrors Metahead’s political maneuverings, echoing feminist t-shirt slogans during the Biden administration while embodying a more “masculine energy” during the Trump era. Trump’s Allies now lurk in the metaverse.

Zuckerberg’s political adaptability mirrors that of other tech leaders, but there may be deeper dynamics at play. Unlike scientific research, philanthropy’s social experiments often reveal uncomfortable truths. Back in 2010, when Zuckerberg donated $100 million to revitalize the Newark Public School System, some educators criticized him for imposing startup ideologies and quick fixes—like charter schools and “parent choices”—on the complex and interconnected issues of the U.S. public school system. Imagining the reactions at headquarters: “We’re trying to help—why the backlash? Why don’t these nobodies behave like billionaires at a dictator’s inauguration?”

Another interesting aspect about billionaires is their rapid loss of interest. Allegedly, one reason Zuckerberg and Chan opted to close charity schools in East Palo Alto is that Chan was reportedly frustrated with the slow progress. Given the intellects involved, that’s not entirely surprising. However, these children seem determined to evade the Ivy League while remaining impoverished. The assumption of limitless adaptability of skills among certain tech leaders is hard to retire. Consider the Bezos Day 1 Academy Fund, where the world’s third-richest man promises to oversee “Montessori-style kindergartens” with zero tuition—a significant portion of taxes directed toward national education funds.

Meanwhile, back in Zuckerberg’s Crescent Park enclave, tensions are palpable. In an area favored by Stanford professors, Zuckerberg acquired 11 properties, transforming them into compounds, complete with pickleball courts and basement excavations, reminiscent of low-rent oligarchs in London’s West End. Following years of noise, construction, and traffic disruptions due to the school, a neighbor was ready to respond when a New York Times reporter called: “I don’t want my neighborhood to be overrun.” He stated that his house is surrounded on three sides by Zuckerberg’s property. “But that’s exactly what they’ve done: they’ve taken over our neighborhood.” Replacing “world” with “neighborhood” succinctly encapsulated the situation.

Source: www.theguardian.com

Resisting the Pressure: Saying No to the Internet’s £500 Jumper Temptation | Emma Beddington

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I I'm concerned that I wrote that this time last year, my urge to acquire material things had subsided somewhat. thing In the world. Unfortunately, the internet seemed to see it as a challenge I couldn't refuse, and in recent months I found myself wanting something again, lots of things.

Perhaps that's not surprising. Everything whispers or screams at us from every screen we stare at. “The constant barrage of ads on Instagram is exhausting,” my best friend said gloomily just last week, and she was right. My eyes are constantly bombarded with offers of miracle goop, health equipment, expensive knitwear and green-tinted “disruptors” perfect for mature skin. Almost everything. Just a minute or so of scrolling reveals “calfPRO” (completely unintelligible, amazing), kombucha, cleanser, eco-frying pan, a jumper “reminiscent of Phoebe Philo-era Celine,” and, inexplicably, Canadian waters. were provided in succession. Sea urchin.

There are bigger problems in this new lawless age of social media than the relentless onslaught of targeted advertising, but everything the internet wants, in addition to the urgent upskilling of critical reading that the world needs. We need to find a way to counter it. we buy it. Otherwise, to take a random example, you might end up awkwardly receiving the candy-colored bra you bought in a fugue state after seeing it on your phone 800 times a week. This bra, apparently made of satsuma net and wrap film, provides no support to the wearer at all, instead fighting tirelessly to reposition everything I do – Sorry, but their – Breast tissue is attached to the armpits. It's destined for landfill, where it will strangle seabirds and break down into microplastics that will poison generations of our descendants.

Deinfluence is now a genre of online content where creators fight back against consumer culture by explaining how they are content with a pair of trainers and basic shampoo. That's great, but it's inevitably common. I think we need to take matters into our own hands because the scale and targeting of the data-driven, algorithmic discontent industry is so granular. Because who better to eliminate its influence on you than yourself? Only you know your desires and weaknesses better than an all-powerful algorithm. Only you can fight effectively. I've been trying to de-influence myself for the past few weeks and it's been quite a struggle. I'm weak-willed and getting stupider by the minute by internet nonsense. And algorithms are tireless. But I have a secret weapon. It helps you call out your deepest and most ridiculous desires because you know them so well. Now, when I'm tempted, that's exactly what I do. Similarly:

perfect reusable coffee cup: Let's see what happened to the last perfect reusable cup you bought. I left it on the bench on my second outing. It's very ecological. I drink too much coffee anyway.

“parallel”Gymnastics bar “te”: Do you really believe that you can train your tired, unsteady body to do a handstand with this length of wood? Having two big babies has chopped your core and strengthened your shoulders. It will be about the size of a sparrow. This is why people over 35 can't use TikTok (unless you understand the very relevant concept of “delulu”).

500 pound jumper with a crow on it: You think you look like Alexa Chung or Björk or some other quirky-chic style icon. You'll look like Giles Brandreth. If you're lucky.

“The last charger you need to buy”: Can I rephrase that? “I need the last charger until I leave it on the train, like the last three,” would be more accurate.

Miracle cleanser: Unless by some miracle it actually crawls out of the tube and applies automatically, you won't use it – you're too lazy.

Innovative “plant-based” electric toothbrush: Remember that destructive plant-based deodorant you bought? It's still unpleasantly accusing you of your bathroom drawer? Try getting really destructive do not have I bought this with some skepticism.

It's cruel, but at least in my case, it's absolutely necessary and almost a full-time job. Think Canadian sea urchin is rich, creamy, and limited in availability? Hmm.

Emma Beddington is a columnist for the Guardian

Source: www.theguardian.com