Analysis – Page 6 – Close Read

The covering COP27 quandary

“Of the 1,156 publicly-listed companies, regions and cities that have so far made net-zero pledges … [more than half] are little more than vague commitments or proposals,” according to a new UN report. Even when proper promises to cut emissions are in the picture, “Audi, Volkswagen, Daimler – now Mercedes-Benz – and BMW commissioned Bosch to develop technology which they knew from the beginning violated regulatory compliance, Environmental Action Germany (DUH) said at a press conference, citing internal industry documents leaked to it this summer spanning 2006 to 2015,” Reuters reported two days ago. From cars to cities, one thing is clear: climate commitments are free, the follow-through is what matters. We’re experiencing the same thing with this year’s Conference of the Parties to the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (FCCC), i.e. COP27. It started off being called the “implementation COP” but looks set to end as a complete disappointment, thanks to developed countries’ reluctance to pony up for a ‘loss and damage’ fund and to adopt a framework to establish the ‘Global Goal on Adaptation’ (not to mention the suffocating conditions in which it physically took place). Within the limited context of COP27 itself, India has scored several brownie points – as it does – by pushing richer countries to up their commitments while the national government has progressively weakened environmental safeguards in India. Yes, economically developing and underdeveloped countries must have a longer runway to reaching net-zero than developed countries, but this doesn’t free any country – developed, developing or underdeveloped – from the responsibility to keep their growth and their green transition just. Many of India’s developmental tendencies are demonstrably not. A good example is its hydroelectric push in the north and the northeast, facilitated by the wilful oversight of public opinion, degrading land, more frequent floods, heightened erosion, disruptions to aquatic species and their combined consequences for the Indigenous people who depend on riparian ecosystems. But at multilateral fora, India cashed in with a 2019 policy change in which it declared large hydropower projects (>25 MW capacity) “as renewable energy sources”. This calculus obviously overlooks the lifecycle emissions of hydroelectric power and its ecological cost, more so when, as in India, the government has gone on a dam-building spree even on individual rivers. We need dams, sure, but why do they always have to be built by degrading their local environments? When the Union environment ministry submitted “India’s Long-Term Low-Carbon Development Strategy” report to the UN FCCC on November 1, India became the cynosure of many eyes at COP27 because fewer than 60 other countries had filed similar plans. Is this India cashing in again? Because, remember, commitments are free.

The actual point I wanted to make through all this was something else: spare a thought for the journalist covering the climate talks and countries’ commitments here. Do they report on announcements of commitments and therefore have lots to write about but also become part of the hype machine, do they ignore the announcements because without action they remain “blah, blah, blah”, or do they interrogate every announcement as such and become submerged in cynical thinking?

The ideologues cometh for the IITs

In July 2019, when the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) launched its Chandrayaan 2 mission, the spiritual guru Jaggi Vasudev was present in the control centre, along with other dignitaries, getting a close view of the launch from a balcony. After the launch, he was seen taking photographs with the scientists in the room. Many people (myself included) were irked as to how, of all the people ISRO could have chosen to invite for such an occasion, it picked Jaggi Vasudev, who regularly makes pseudoscientific claims in public and has floated questionable initiatives like ‘Cauvery Calling’ even as his foundation has angered locals for encroaching ecologically sensitive land, damaging water resources and farmland in Tamil Nadu. Surely there were better invitees?

A year or so later, someone who is highly likely to have been aware of the true circumstances of Jaggi’s presence in the control room told me that ISRO didn’t invite him. Jaggi just showed up at ISRO’s doorstep, and they were obligated to let him in and show him around. We had assumed there had been an invitation because it is not possible for the rest of us to simply show up and be let into the control room gallery. After the launch, Jaggi tweeted, “#Chandrayaan2 is the outcome of the brilliance and extraordinary commitment of our scientists of @ISRO and also the political will. This phenomenal achievement is the pride of our nation. Just couldn’t help being there.” The mention of ‘political will’ in that tweet was an important indication. Even if it wasn’t as ostentatious as later tweets by others would be, it didn’t prove anything. It was just of a piece with events two months later.

In September 2019, the Chandrayaan 2 mission’s lander crashed on the lunar surface, leaving only the orbiter part of the mission to succeed. But the then ISRO chairman K. Sivan dubbed the mission a “98% success” (without explaining his calculus) even as the rest of the organisation withdrew into a shell, cutting the information flow into a feeble trickle. We didn’t know that Vikram, the lander, had crashed or the telemetry data based on which ISRO had reached that conclusion, until later.

Today, on November 18, 2022, an Indian company called Skyroot Aerospace launched its first indigenous rocket from ISRO’s spaceport in Sriharikota – an important achievement, a milestone in the country’s reforms to increase private sector involvement in the spaceflight sector. But before and after the launch itself, the telecast was concerned inordinately with the glory of Prime Minister Narendra Modi and of his government. Piyush Goyal called it “an achievement led by PM” – a patently false assertion that also overlooked the scientists and engineers who had worked on the mission.

In December 2021, IIT Kharagpur published a “Vedic calendar” prepared by an Indian Knowledge Systems Centre at the institute of eminence. It was riddled with ahistorical claims, twisted in a way to support, among other things, the idea that the Aryans were the native people of Bharat rather than immigrants from Eastern Europe and that, to borrow historian Meera Nanda’s words, “the well-known “Pashupati seal” found in Mohenjo-Daro in 1928, which depicts a figure seated in a yoga-like posture, wearing a horned head-gear with animals surrounding him, is no “proto-Shiva” but a full-fledged Vedic-Puranic Shiva who is the “column of cosmic light and aeons of time” (whatever that means).” A centre for ‘Indian knowledge systems’ already exists in IIT Gandhinagar as well and, Nanda speculated, IIT Kanpur could be next in line.

Speaking of IIT Kanpur: on November 11, the institute tweeted from its official handle that spiritual guru Sri Sri Ravi Shankar would conduct a “national induction” on the same day “for the first-year students of all the national institutes of importance” (there are 25). The tweet asked people to visit Ravi Shankar’s “Art of Living’s YouTube channel” to view the talk.

Finally, two days back, the University Grants Commission (UGC) asked universities across the country to hold lectures on November 26, Constitution Day, to push the idea of India as the world’s “mother of democracy” and that ancient India had a democratic government in its Vedic period. The incumbent UGC chairman, M. Jagadesh Kumar, made a name for himself as the Jawaharlal Nehru University vice-chancellor who did nothing as a small mob of miscreants, affiliated with the youth wing of the BJP, went on a rampage through the campus, damaging property and attacking students. Now, Kumar has written to 45 universities, 45 deemed-to-be universities and to the governors of states (who are the chancellors of state universities) to “encourage” these lectures.

This is what the BJP’s ideological programme taking over India’s ostensible centres of scientific research excellence looks like – not by (physical) violence, not by harassing professors and students who oppose their ideology, not by jailing peaceful protestors, but by opening the door in small increments, using the universities’ names and symbols on propaganda material, by adding ‘centres’ and ‘lectures’ to them instead of subtracting their powers, and by taking control of the public narratives of their achievements.

Featured image credit: Dewang Gupta/Unsplash.

The biopolitics of Covaxin

In a new investigation, STAT has reported fresh problems with Covaxin’s approval process in India, including the phase 2 trial dropping its placebo arm in favour of one preordained to make Covaxin look good and Bharat Biotech – the maker – commencing phase 3 trials based on results from animal studies. I’m also filing the report under “yet another instance of a pro-government Indian entity responding to the foreign press but not the local press” (following this). Krishna Mohan, one of the company’s directors, responded to STAT by admitting to a wrongdoing, massaging other similar actions, and pointing a finger at the Indian government.

Is this spine? In response to similar evidence-based allegations of wrongdoing, Bharat Biotech met The Wire Science and The Wire with a defamation suit, a demand of Rs 100 crore and that the two sites not publish articles with “defamatory content” vis-à-vis the company, and obtained an ex parte injunction against 14 articles. This was in addition to the seemingly blanket refusal to respond to our questions for reports we were filing. Other senior Bharat Biotech officials also refused to communicate to anyone else asking probing questions about Covaxin’s clinical trials. No: his quote sounds more like Mohan trying to save Bharat Biotech’s face in front of a western audience (the one our government wants us to believe is inferior) while spinning ~~India’s~~ Bharat’s own take on the vaccine approval process.

Mohan told STAT that they didn’t take any shortcuts – at least not those that weren’t first “vetted” by the Central Drug Standards Control Organisation (CDSCO), a.k.a. the drug regulator. That is to say, the shortcuts were CDSCO-approved, so they weren’t shortcuts. I’m inclined to agree: the rules are after all not based on principles of natural justice but on what the government deems acceptable. /s

Of all the allegations, the one that irks me most is the modification to the phase 2 trial. It compromises our ability to learn anything useful about Covaxin, replacing that knowledge with knowledge of how much better one formulation of Covaxin is from another. The drug regulator should have known this is what the trial would have ended up checking, and if it approved this design anyway, it has engaged in wilful neglect – neglect of science, neglect of integrity, neglect of its mandate to look out for the people. But if we’re to believe Mohan, it’s just “product development” for an unprecedented time, not public health:

“In a classic sense of product development, we would do everything the right way — play by the book and all the rules of the game would be followed. But here was a situation the world didn’t foresee. … Please don’t think there was any issue with the veracity of the data. Yes, it was an unusual approach, but it was dictated by the nature of the pandemic.”

Ah, a classic tactic: Why did you burn down the forest? “It’s the climate crisis, which is unprecedented, and we needed land to erect smog towers.”

Later in the article, in the face of a similar allegation – changing the phase 2 trial protocol – Mohan defends the regulator and blames discrepancies in trial numbers on a company struggling to coordinate multiple teams working separately from each other while being guided by the rule of “let’s get the data out”. I’d buy what he was saying if he was talking about his company HQ installing new air-conditioners and conducting tests of indoor air quality. But he’s talking about a clinical trial for a vaccine, placing misleading data in the public domain and – crucially – implicating a national drug regulator that he claims was in the know but didn’t act.

To STAT, he’s saying they were distracted by the “safety of individuals”, the “ethics of handling subjects” and “manufacturing”, but to Indian journalists, he as well as the regulator have been mum on questions raised by the WHO and ANVISA on manufacturing practices and by almost everyone else about the People’s Hospital death and data.

A (somehow) bigger problem arises soon after when Mohan says:

“Whatever we did was with the clear intention of doing it right. There was no question of reducing sample sizes. … There were not off the cuff or random thoughts. … It was extensively debated with keeping the final objective in mind of getting a vaccine in time and not cutting any corners.”

Getting a vaccine in time and not cutting any corners? It’s baffling that the last sentence is intended as clarification rather than as a potentially tacit admission of wrongdoing. I’m sure you remember when ICMR chief Balram Bhargava called on hospitals around India to complete Covaxin’s phase 3 trials in less than two months, in time for Prime Minister Narendra Modi to avail the vaccine for public use on Independence Day 2020. One independent scientist asked me what I thought Bhargava might have been smoking at the time; it was hard to say.

But what’s tempting to speculate now is that the government realised, based on the backlash to Bhargava’s announcement, that a) a phase 3 trial in six weeks was a bigger problem than it believed, b) it wouldn’t work to have its vaccine development plan in public, c) it could accelerate Covaxin’s clinical trials by forcing Bharat Biotech to do so, and d) approve Covaxin without phase 3 trials by assimilating the drug regulator – all to achieve a similar outcome. Or at least I speculate in the absence of evidence. And until there is, we remain needles in veins.

COP talks as ambition police

Part of what makes Greta Thunberg such a powerful voice in climate activism is her no-nonsense communication.

Yesterday, for example, she called the impending COP27 climate talks, to be held in Egypt on November 6-18, an opportunity for “people in power” to “greenwash”, “lie” and “cheat”. Her words are presumably referring to the world’s wealthiest nations resisting efforts by the less, and in fact the least, wealthy nations to secure more funds to adapt to the climate crisis, research and implement new technologies, resettle vulnerable people and safeguard threatened livelihoods and geographies.

In the past, wealthier countries – as well as the institutions that sustain their wealthy status – have also been reluctant to take responsibility for historical emissions and for the role of their colonialist or imperialist policies, as the came may be, in perpetrating inequity.

At the COP21 in Paris six years ago, the famous Paris Agreement was signed after intense day/night negotiations, only to come to a weak agreement on the 1.5º C threshold, and even without any legal bindings. Last year’s COP26 in Glasgow ended as a disappointment, with negotiators’ focus squarely on climate finance. At the upcoming COP27 in Egypt, the talks will take off on this point.

At this juncture, and in fact against the backdrop of the UK having defaulted on a $288 million commitment to the Green Climate Fund, Thunberg’s comments must be welcome for all the less-than-rich countries. However, the unqualified nature of her statement – painting COP27 in toto as something resembling a sham – should be unwelcome for the same group for a few reasons.

Apart from providing an arena in which nations on the roughly two sides of the climate finance crisis can meet, these climate talks, organised under the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change, also provide a stage on which countries forge alliances and where – with the advantage of uninterrupted media attention – lesser known voices from remote parts of the world can make themselves heard.

But perhaps most importantly, here, less-than-wealthy countries can cooperate and squeeze just a little more commitment from the wealthier ones – because outside of these forums, negotiations are one-to-one, ad hoc and scattered, and often combine political considerations with climate-related ones in a way that could be detrimental to the latter.

For example, at COP26 last year, Prime Minister Narendra Modi announced India’s intention to become ‘net-zero’ by 2070 as well as called on wealthy countries to step up their financial support for climate mitigation activities worldwide, joining a chorus of voices making the same demand as well as responding to international pressure to declare such a target.

At the same time, India is one of Asia’s fastest-growing oil markets, and whose government has projected oil and gas demand in the country to grow 8-11% through this decade despite a lack of clarity on what these fuels will be used for. As a result, several international energy corporations are expanding their foothold in India, capitalising on the country as one of the world’s last major markets for fossil fuels. The government is encouraging this trend for the investments it brings.

At the Conference of the Parties (i.e. COP), thus, we can expect a check against our own government’s ambitions – as well as where the clout of individual governments fructifies as part of a collective bargaining enterprise. (Why not take advantage of the fact that the current Indian government is sensitive to how it’s perceived in the Western press?)

So dismissing the talks as a whole – as Thunberg has done on more than one occasion – and expecting the world’s wealthiest nations to step up is, for better or worse, not going to get us anywhere. That said, recasting the talks as a forum that works in favour of the world’s economically developing and least developed nations, by allowing them to function as a single bloc, may serve us all better. The governments of these countries also need to be held accountable after all.

Featured image: Greta Thunberg in Montreal in September 2019. Credit: Lëa-Kim Châteauneuf/Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 4.0.

A masculine build-up to the Ind-Pak cricket match

This post benefited from feedback from Thomas Manuel.

Every time I watch an ad about the upcoming India-Pakistan men’s cricket match, as part of the ongoing T20 World Cup in Australia, I’m reminded of Cutler Beckett’s line in the Pirates of the Caribbean film series: “It’s just good business.”

Beyond the field, there has been new animosity between the Indian and the Pakistani cricket boards, with the former having said that the Indian men’s cricket team won’t travel to Pakistan for the 2023 Asia Cup. But even beyond the administrators of cricket and their realpolitik machinations, there are Star Sports and Pepsi.

Star Sports has been running an ad depicting life in a fictitious town called “Dardnapur” (Hindi for ‘no-pain town’) peopled with many men of considerable strength, capable of lifting motorcycles, having their fingers slammed by a closing door with nary a wince, and so forth. But when India lost to Pakistan at the Asia Cup, as a young boy narrates in the video, these men were sent to tears. So, the boy says in an address to the Indian men’s team, “Right this wrong, win the match and end the wait.”

(The ad benefits from an ambiguity: India’s loss to Pakistan contributed to the end of its last Asia Cup campaign, so “ending the wait” could apply equally to beating Pakistan and winning a major tournament. On the flip side, at the ad’s end, the screen shows illustrated faces of the two team captains, Rohit Sharma and Babar Azam, gesturing to each other in an aggressive way.)

In the Pepsi ad, India’s frontline pacer Jasprit Bumrah askes if viewers have the guts to watch the upcoming match against Pakistan from the PoV of a camera fit into the batter’s stumps (a.k.a. the ‘stumpcam’), followed by the ad spelling out something about a QR code to be found in Pepsi bottles.

Obviously women and people of other genders are welcome to share in these sentiments but neither ad features any women and there has been no indication that either of these brands – Star Sports or Pepsi – is interested in advertising to women in this matter. Instead, both brands are investing in associating the match with shows of strength and guts, an inescapable parallel to the violence in Kashmir as well as to the fact that India-Pakistan face-offs in the cricketing sphere represent one of the few remaining ways in which the two countries directly compete for victory.

There have been a few articles in ESPN and similar outlets about the Indian and the Pakistani men’s cricket teams trying to relax, stay away from the hype and focus on playing the game (see here, e.g.). But everyone else – from the administrators to the people at large, mediated by advertisements of the sort described above – are either pushing or are being pushed the triumphalist narrative that the match is a proxy for India being “better” than Pakistan, to project India as a highly competitive and – assuming India will win the match – tough country. Even the ICC is partly to blame as it starts major tournaments by having India and Pakistan face each other.

All this brings to mind the term ‘hegemonic masculinity’, coined by various sociologists in the 1980s and which has come to encompass the following features, among others: shows of achievement, use of physical force and heterosexuality – all of which have been put on display in the two ads and in the actions of the Indian cricket board.

Even “frontiersmanship” has raised its head: according to Wiktionary, it stands for “the craft or skill of being a frontiersman, of succeeding in settling a frontier” – which in this case is relevant to the regions of ‘Pakistan-administered Kashmir’ in western Kashmir and Aksai Chin in the eastern portion, over which India has disputes with Pakistan and China, respectively.

The person who announced India wouldn’t go to Pakistan for next year’s Asia Cup was Jay Shah, who has three identities here that matter: he is BCCI secretary, president of the Asian Cricket Council (ACC) and son of Union home minister Amit Shah. Shah junior said he was making the announcement as the president of the ACC, yet it’s laughable that the decision was motivated by anything other than the Indian government’s grouses with Pakistan in Kashmir.

Assorted comments: MOM, IIT Mandi, scientists’ wishes

These are some remarks that have been fermenting in my mind and for which I don’t have the time or the inclination to supply a beginning-middle-end structure to publish as individual posts. I’m just packing them into this one post so I can say what I’d like to say, clear some headspace and move on.

1. MOM end of mission

The Mars Orbiter Mission (MOM) of the Indian Space Research Organisation (ISRO) reached end of life on October 3, 2022, a healthy seven years beyond its design lifespan of six months. While the confirmation from ISRO was muted, to the accompaniment of a characteristically verbose PTI copy, the occasion was nothing short of the end of an era. MOM was ISRO’s last fully successful major mission and the last time ISRO undertook an outreach campaign of any sort that was as candid and as effective as many of us ISRO enthusiasts have wished all of their campaigns to be. ISRO’s last partly successful major mission was Chandrayaan 2; the way it responded to the lander’s failure was regrettable. And there hasn’t been a publicity campaign since that wasn’t also closely orchestrated by the office of the Supreme Leader et al. So the end of MOM was symbolically the end of a time in which things other than total narrative control were possible.

2. An IIT Mandi press release

IIT Mandi recently emailed me a press release about a newly published paper (which I couldn’t find) describing a study led by a researcher and his team at the institute – in which they recovered polymer composites from used wind-turbine blades in what the release claimed was a “green” procedure. The two chemical compounds required in this procedure are hydrogen peroxide and acetic acid. Dear readers, hydrogen peroxide is not “green”. Nothing, really, is green unless it’s green throughout its lifecycle. Hydrogen peroxide manufacturing is currently not a green process. You can’t just say “hydrogen peroxide is the water molecule plus one more oxygen atom, so it’s green”. That’s like saying “ozone is dioxygen with one more oxygen atom, so it’s okay to inhale.” Diluted hydrogen peroxide is okay but at higher concentrations (typically >40%), it is highly toxic to living things. It’s also very reactive chemically and is hard to store, transport and use. So without knowing where the hydrogen peroxide in their experiment came from, without knowing the volume of hydrogen peroxide required to make the research team’s solution commercially feasible, and without knowing the concentration at which it must be used, let’s not make any claims about greenness.

Addendum: Also according to the press release (emphasis added), “The recovered fibres retained nearly 99% of the strength and greater than 90% of other mechanical properties as compared to the virgin fibres.” Do we really need to use terms like “virgin” to describe pre-utilisation objects? I doubt anyone’s going to tell the IIT Mandi press office this but both universe press offices and scientists need to put some thought into their language instead of playing it safe from within their lanes. Other English words rooted in objectionable sexual notions include ‘seminal’ (from semen) and ‘hysterical’ (from the Latin for ‘suffering in the womb’). The lingua franca is what we consider okay to say, okay to think, eventually okay to believe, so it’s important we tend to it.

3. “Top 3 wishes”

The The Science Talk blog published a post discussing the results of a call it’d put out earlier, to materials scientists, asking them to list their top three wishes. The question received a hundred responses and, according to the post, the most common three wishes were: More funding and longer contracts; “resources – unlimited microscopes, open access and less bureaucracy”; and “informal networking, comfortable lab shoes and outreach”. Let’s set a part of our common sense aside for a moment and assume that these hundred materials scientists are speaking for the millions of scientists working on thousands of topics worldwide in a variety of contexts. Doing this allows us to consider their wishes as a monolithic set of requests so that they can do science better – and leaves us to think about which wishes we can and can’t allow, and to what extents, so that science can fulfill its purpose in our lives, in our countries, in our politics without at the same time exacting too high a cost. Take “longer contracts”, for example: obviously that will allow scientists to work with larger questions, build towards bigger ideas and so forth – but the gains for those funding that scientific work, the government and by extension the people, will also manifest over longer time-periods and come with a greater risk of sunk costs. That in turn should make us think about what sort of nation, with the attendant economic and sociopolitical features, can afford longer contracts for scientists. (In my view, richer, more economically developed and more powerful countries, where there is little social or political expectation for science to contribute to the betterment of society.)

I didn’t have a point to make here as much as express the hope that more people who read the The Science Talk post will be interested in asking such questions, and thereon become interested in the government of science, the place of science in your country and, ultimately, the politics of rooting for science.

The passive voice is political

Eric Martinez, Francis Mollica and Edward Gibson of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the University of Edinburgh won an Ig Nobel Prize for literature this year for their work on what makes legal documents so hard to read. Ironically, the abstract of their paper, published in July 2022, is also very hard to read, coming in at 165 words in just five sentences:

Despite their ever-increasing presence in everyday life, contracts remain notoriously inaccessible to laypeople. Why? Here, a corpus analysis (n ≈10 million words) revealed that contracts contain startlingly high proportions of certain difficult-to-process features–including low-frequency jargon, center-embedded clauses (leading to long-distance syntactic dependencies), passive voice structures, and non-standard capitalization–relative to nine other baseline genres of written and spoken English. Two experiments (N=184) further revealed that excerpts containing these features were recalled and comprehended at lower rates than excerpts without these features, even for experienced readers, and that center-embedded clauses inhibited recall more-so than other features. These findings (a) undermine the specialized concepts account of legal theory, according to which law is a system built upon expert knowledge of technical concepts; (b) suggest such processing difficulties result largely from working-memory limitations imposed by long-distance syntactic dependencies (i.e., poor writing) as opposed to a mere lack of specialized legal knowledge; and (c) suggest editing out problematic features of legal texts would be tractable and beneficial for society at-large.

But nitpicks aside, I hope the award will bring more attention to why writing in the passive voice is problematic.

It makes for duller reading.
It glosses over actors who are performing an action and focuses on those on whom the action is being performed.

The first problem is not an opinion: readers like to be able to visualise what they’re reading. It makes reading a more interesting and immersive experience. This is why “show, don’t tell” is always good advice. But when the writer leaves out the performers of an action – everything from day-dreaming to a heist – a part of the picture disappears. The second problem is obviously dangerous but it can also impart the narrative with political overtones that the writer might like to do without. For example, writing “B was hit” instead of writing “A hit B” keeps the focus on the nature of the violence and recipient. A, the perpetrator, stays out of the picture, out of the narrative and out of readers’ conception of what really happened. If a writer intends to keep the focus on B as a way to humanise them, it doesn’t have to come at the cost of forgetting A. The way to construct the identities of A and B is with narrative – and not with grammatical techniques like the passive voice. If all the sentences in a given piece are in the passive voice, it will still be possible to build a narrative that is fair to B and suitably consternated towards A. The inverse is also true: you can write a piece using the active voice in all sentences and still build up to a narrative that’s unfair to B. The passive voice may not compromise your ability to faithfully describe reality but it will get in the way of what the reader takes away. Reading is a psychological experience and every little adjustment matters to whether your attempt to persuade succeeds.

Unfortunately, many science writers in India – especially those who have trained as scientists – employ the passive voice in a way that reveals the clear influence of scientific writing on their brand of English. In scientific writing – i.e. the labour that produces the text in research papers – both narrative and grammatical technique converge on the desirability of removing the scientist, as the performer of an experiment, from the picture. I dislike this sort of writing because a) it’s founded on the premise that the scientist’s identity or choices don’t matter to the experiment’s outcomes, whereas there are several examples in history of researchers’ identities influencing the questions they choose to ask, and answer, and b) as the Ig Nobel Prize has acknowledged, it makes for needlessly difficult reading. And not just me: even scientists have spoken up about how they’re having a harder time making sense of scientific papers. I’ve written before as to why science communication is not an add-on to science itself but a separate enterprise animated by its own skills and goals. Switching from the narrative-grammatical coincidence associated with ‘good science’ to the narrative-grammatical separation is one of the dividing lines. When scientists don’t make this switch, they’re at risk of participating in a communication exercise that’s liable to overlook the relationships between scientists’ identities and their ideas.

Note that, in India, a non-trivial number of people come into sophisticated forms of English use by engaging with the scientific enterprise. When The Wire Science first published its ‘submission guidelines’, some readers told us that our decision to enforce them was unfair because different people write in different ways. I agreed – but didn’t edit them because something someone told me at ACJ still rings true: before you attempt poetry, you must understand grammar so you know how exactly to break it.

Being introduced to English in the walled garden of science habituates people to using English in a certain way – a way that they consider to be good and effective but which is so only in the limited context of scientific work. It fails significantly and repeatedly when writers use it to engage with non-experts from the problems I noted above. It also doesn’t help that the bulk of scientists conducting research in India at the moment are (cis)male and Brahmin, thus not likely to perceive discrimination along these axes, and thus not likely to perceive the need to acknowledge it in the way they use their language. If you had “writing about particle physics” in mind and have been using it to contextualise my arguments, you may not have much luck; instead, I suggest considering “agriculture”, “psychology”, “biomedicine”, “pedagogy” or “astronomy”. (It’s not a coincidence that India’s lower-tech scientific enterprises have been more assailed by such discrepancies.) Irrespective of whether it is good/bad English, the passive voice doesn’t make for good communication. It may not, and never, affect readers’ ability to understand what you alone are communicating, but ditching it for the active voice could a) engender a habit among readers to expect it, and b) encourage other writers to adopt it when they’re writing on topics where the difference is crucial.

The Frida Kahlo NFT

Like a Phoenix rising from its ashes, Art is reborn into Eternity.
fridanft.org

In July this year, a Mexican businessman named Martin Mobarak allegedly destroyed a painting by Frida Kahlo in order to liberate it from its physical shackles and unto its “eternal” existence henceforth as an NFT that he is selling for $4,000 apiece. He has said the money will go to charity, but it’s hard to understand how that is relevant considering what has (allegedly) been lost. Art these days is not entirely art: at least a part of its purpose has been subverted by cryptocurrencies into an object for proponents of this technology to con. Also, a fundamental tenet of the NFTs market is that scarcity is always better. Put these things together and you realise Mobarak’s actions were a matter of when, not if. However, the intersection of NFT-centric thinking with the art world has been and continues to be complicated.

In 2021, an artist named Beeple sold a collage of images he’d crafted and pieced together to a cryptocurrency entrepreneur named Metakovan for tokens worth $69 million. Metakovan, and his partner Twobadour, had said at the time that they were democratising art by enabling the cryptocurrency-based public ownership of works of art and by taking advantage of cryptocurrencies’ opportunities to allow non-white, non-western people to acquire high-valued art. It was a poorly conceived proposition in many ways – starting from the fact that the acquisition was a façade for Metakovan to inflate the value of the tokens he owned and going up to the fact that the $69-million moment did everything to uphold the links between art and modern capitalism instead of critiquing them (forget tearing them down).

Fast-forward to Martin Mobarak’s (alleged) destruction of ‘Fantasmones Siniestros’ and the contradictions abound. Contrary to Metakovan’s aspiration to democratise anything, even in principle, Mobarak’s (alleged) action epitomises the private ownership of art – outside history itself, isolated in one’s personal collection and thus – by the premium American logic of private ownership – at the unquestionable mercy of its proprietor, who may even choose to burn it without regard for its thingness as a historical-cultural-political object. In both cases, and the thousands of other instances in which NFT-makers have either championed the cause of paying artists or conceived art of their own, this human endeavour has been far removed from its telos of critiquing capitalist society and has become a commodity per se.

But while this is the long- and well-known effect of capitalism on art, the (alleged) destruction of ‘Fantasmones Siniestros’ also confronts us with a tense three-way contest. On vertex 1: The painting is Kahlo’s and is as such an important part of Mexico’s past, heritage and the aspirations of its people through the ages. On vertex 2: The headlines of most news reports, if not all, make sure to mention that the painting was worth $10 million, in a reminder of its monetary value de facto and the place of art by influential artists as an important bourgeois value-store de jure. And on vertex 3: No matter the legerdemain of businesspeople, NFTs will always and eventually ensure the complete commodification of art, thanks to their foundational premise.

The only thing worth prizing here is that on vertex 1: Kahlo’s work, inasmuch as it captures her spirit and anima and is a reminder of what she did, when and amidst whom. But vertices 2 and 3 seem to hold the means by which this preservation has been achieved before and will be achieved in future, and together prompt us to pay more attention to the delicate strands by which the memories of our pasts dangle. We still await the public ownership of the work of important artists, and many others, but anyone who says cryptocurrencies or blockchains are the way to get there is lying.

A similar problem has assailed the world of scientific knowledge and publishing for many years now, with more scientists becoming more aware today of their actual role in society: not to create new knowledge and improve lives as much as to widen the margins of scientific journals, overlook their glaring flaws and the incentives they have set up to the detriment of good science, and comply unquestioningly with their inexplicable price hikes. And even as many scientists have invented notions like “prestige” and “status” to make their allegiance to journals make sense, Mobarak et al. tell us, and themselves, that they’re doing everyone a favour.

The strange NYT article on taming minks

I’m probably waking up late to this but the New York Times has published yet another article in which it creates a false balance by first focusing on the problematic side of a story for an inordinately long time, without any of the requisite qualifications and arguments, before jumping, in the last few paragraphs to one or two rebuttals that reveal, for the first time, that there could in fact be serious problems with all that came before.

The first instance was about a study on the links between one’s genes and facial features. The second is a profile of a man named Joseph Carter who tames minks. The article is headlined ‘How ‘the Most Vicious, Horrible Animal Alive’ Became a YouTube Star’. You’d think minks are “vicious” and “horrible” because they’re aggressive or something like that, but no – you discover the real reason all the way down in paragraph #12:

“Pretty much everyone I asked, they told me the same thing — ‘They’re the most vicious, horrible animal alive,’” Mr. Carter said. “‘They’re completely untamable, untrainable, and it doesn’t really matter what you do.’”

So, in 2003, he decided that he would start taming mink. He quickly succeeded.

Putting such descriptors as “vicious” and “horrible” in single-quotes in the headline doesn’t help if those terms are being used – by unnamed persons, to boot – to mean minks are hard to tame. That just makes them normal. But the headline’s choice of words (and subsequently the refusal by the first 82% (by number of paragraphs) of the piece to engage with the issue) gives the impression that the newspaper is going to ignore that. A similar kind of dangerous ridiculousness emerges further down the piece, with no sense of irony:

“You can’t control, you can’t change the genetics of an individual,” he said. “But you can, with the environment, slightly change their view of life.”

Why do we need to change minks’ view of anything? Right after, the article segues to a group of researchers at a veterinary college in London, whose story appears to supply the only redeeming feature of Carter’s games with minks: the idea that in order to conduct their experiments with minks, the team would have to design more challenging tasks with higher rewards than they were handing out. Other than this, there’s very little to explain why Carter does what he does.

There’s a flicker of an insight when a canal operator says Carter helps them trap the “muskrats, rats, raccoons and beavers” that erode the canal’s banks. There’s another flicker when the article says Carter buys “many of his animals” from fur farms, where the animals are killed before they’re a year old when in fact they could live to three, as they do with Carter. Towards the very end, we learn, Carter also prays for his minks every night.

So he’s saving them in the sort of way the US saves other countries?

It’s hard to say when he’s also setting out to tame these animals to – as the article seems to suggest – see if he can succeed. In fact, the article is so poorly composed and structured that it’s hard to say if the story it narrates is a faithful reflection of Carter’s sensibilities or if it’s just lazy writing. We never find out if Carter has ever considered ‘rescuing’ these animals and releasing them into the wild or if he has considered joining experts and activists fighting to have the animal farms shut. We only have the vacuous claim that is Carter’s belief that he’s giving them a “new life”.

The last 18% of the article also contains a few quotes that I’d call weak for not being sharp enough to poke more holes in Carter’s views, at least as the New York Times seems to relay them. There is one paragraph citing a 2001 study about what makes mink stressed and another about the welfare of Carter’s minks being better than those that are caged in the farms. But the authors appear to have expended no sincere effort to link them together vis-à-vis Carter’s activities.

In fact, there is a quote by a scientist introduced to rationalise Carter’s views: “It’s like any thoroughbred horse, or performance animal — or birds of prey who go out hunting. If asked, they probably would prefer to hunt.” Wouldn’t you think that if they were asked, and if they could provide an answer that we could understand, they would much rather be free of all constraints rather than being part of Carter’s circus?

There is also a dubious presumption here that creates a false choice – between being caged in a farm and being tamed by a human: that the minks ought to be grateful because some humans are choosing to stress them less, instead of not stress them whatsoever. Whether a mink might be killed by predators or have a harder time finding food in the wild, if it is released, is completely irrelevant.

Then comes the most infuriating sentence of the lot, following the scientist’s quote: “Mr. Carter has his own theories.” Not ideas or beliefs but theories. Because scientists’ theories, tested as they need to be against our existing body of knowledge and with experiments designed to eliminate even inadvertent bias, are at least semantically equivalent to Carter’s “own theories”, founded on his individual need for self-justification and harmony with the saviour complex.

And then the last paragraph:

“Animals don’t have ethics,” he said. “They have sensation, they can feel pain, they have the ability to learn, but they don’t have ethics. That’s a human thing.”

I don’t know how to make sense of it, other than with the suspicion that the authors and/or editors grafted these lines to the bottom because they sounded profound.

Why everyone should pay attention to Stable Diffusion

Many of the people in my circles hadn’t heard of Stable Diffusion until I told them, and I was already two days late. Heralds of new technologies have a tendency to play up every new thing, however incremental, as the dawn of a new revolution – but in this case, their cries of wolf may be real for once.

Stable Diffusion is an AI tool produced by Stability.ai with help from researchers at the Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich and the Large-scale AI Open Network (LAION). It accepts text or image prompts and converts them into artwork based on, but not necessarily understand, what it ‘sees’ in the input. It created the image below with my prompt “desk in the middle of the ocean vaporwave”. You can create your own here.

But it strayed into gross territory with a different prompt: “beautiful person floating through a colourful nebula”.

Stable Diffusion is like OpenAI’s DALL-E 1/2 and Google’s Imagen and Parti but with two crucial differences: it’s capable of image-to-image (img2img) generation as well and it’s open source.

The img2img feature is particularly mind-blowing because it allows users to describe the scene using text and then guide the Stable Diffusion AI by using a little bit of their own art. Even a drawing on MS Paint with a few colours will do. And while OpenAI and Google hold their cards very close to their chests, with the latter even refusing to release Imagen or Parti in private betas, Stability.ai has – in keeping with its vision to democratise AI – opened Stable Diffusion for tinkering and augmentation by developers en masse. Even the ways in which Stable Diffusion has been released are important: trained developers can work directly with the code while untrained users can access the model in their browsers, without any code, and start producing images. In fact, you can download and run the underlying model on your system, requiring some slightly higher-end specs. Users have already created ways to plug it into photo-editing software like Photoshop.

Stable Diffusion uses a diffusion model: a filter (essentially an algorithm) that takes noisy data and progressively de-noises it. In incredibly simple terms, researchers take an image and in a step-wise process add more and more noise to it. Next they feed this noisy image to the filter, which then removes the noise from the image in a similar step-wise process. You can think of the image as a signal, like the images you see on your TV, which receives broadcast signals from a transmitter located somewhere else. These broadcast signals are basically bundles of electromagnetic waves with information encoded into the waves’ properties, like their frequency, amplitude and phase. Sometimes the visuals aren’t clear because some other undesirable signal has become mixed up with the broadcast signal, leading to grainy images on your TV screen. This undesirable information is called noise.

When the noise waveform resembles that of a bell curve, a.k.a. a Gaussian function, it’s called Gaussian noise. Now, if we know the manner in which noise has been added to the image in each step, we can figure out what the filter needs to do to de-noise the image. Every Gaussian function can be characterised by two parameters, the mean and the variance. Put another way, you can generate different bell-curve-shaped signals by changing the mean and the variance in each case. So the filter effectively only needs to figure out what the mean and the variance in the noise of the input image are, and once it does, it can start de-noising. That is, Stable Diffusion is (partly) the filter here. The input you provide is the noisy image. Its output is the de-noised image. So when you supply a text prompt and/or an accompanying ‘seed’ image, Stable Diffusion just shows off how well it has learnt to de-noise your inputs.

Obviously, when millions of people use Stable Diffusion, the filter is going to be confronted with too many mean-variance combinations for it to be able to directly predict them. This is where an artificial neural network (ANN) helps. ANNs are data-processing systems set up to mimic the way neurons work in our brain, by combining different pieces of information and manipulating them according to their knowledge of older information. The team that built Stable Diffusion trained its model on 5.8 billion image-text pairs found around the internet. An ANN is then programmed to learn from this dataset as to how texts and images correlate as well as how images and images correlate.

To keep this exercise from getting out of hand, each image and text input is broken down into certain components, and the machine is instructed to learn correlations only between these components. Further, the researchers used an ANN model called an autoencoder. Here, the ANN encodes the input in its own representation, using only the information that it has been taught to consider important. This intermediate is called the bottleneck layer. The network then decodes only the information present in this layer to produce the de-noised output. This way, the network also learns what about the input is most important. Finally, researchers also guide the ANN by attaching weights to different pieces of information: that is, the system is informed that some pieces are to be emphasised more than others, so that it acquires a ‘sense’ of less and more desirable.

By snacking on all those text-image pairs, the ANN effectively acquires its own basis to decide when it’s presented a new bit of text and/or image what the mean and variance might be. Combine this with the filter and you get Stable Diffusion. (I should point out again that this is a very simple explanation and that parts of it may well be simplistic.)

Stable Diffusion also comes with an NSFW filter built-in, a component called Safety Classifier, which will stop the model from producing an output that it deems harmful in some way. Will it suffice? Probably not, given the ingenuity of trolls, goblins and other bad-faith actors on the internet. More importantly, it can be turned off, meaning Stable Diffusion can be run without the Safety Classifier to produce deepfakes that are various degrees of disturbing.

But the problems with Stable Diffusion don’t lie only in the future, immediate or otherwise. As I mentioned earlier, to create the model, Stability.ai & co. fed their machine 5.8 billion text-image pairs scraped from the internet – without the consent of the people who created those texts and images. Because Stability.ai released Stable Diffusion in toto into the public domain, it has been experimented with by tens of thousands of people, at least, and developers have plugged it into a rapidly growing number of applications. This is to say that even if Stability.ai is forced to pull the software because it didn’t have the license to those text-image pairs, the cat is out of the bag. There’s no going back. A blog post by LAION only says that the pairs were publicly available and that models built on the dataset should thus be restricted to research. Do you think the creeps on 4chan care? Worse yet, the jobs of the very people who created those text-image pairs are now threatened by Stable Diffusion, which can – with some practice to get your prompts right – produce exactly what you need, no illustrator or photographer required.

Recommended here: Stable Diffusion is a really big deal.

The third interesting thing about Stable Diffusion, after its img2img feature + “deepfakes for all” promise and the questionable legality of its input data, is the license under which Stability.ai has released it. AI analyst Alberto Romero wrote that “a state-of-the-art AI model” like Stable Diffusion “available for everyone through a safety-centric open-source license is unheard of”. This is the CreativeML Open RAIL-M license. Its preamble says, “We believe in the intersection between open and responsible AI development; thus, this License aims to strike a balance between both in order to enable responsible open-science in the field of AI.” Attachment A of the license spells out the restrictions – that is, what you can’t do if you agree to use Stable Diffusion according to the terms of the license (quoted verbatim):

“You agree not to use the Model or Derivatives of the Model:

In any way that violates any applicable national, federal, state, local or international law or regulation;
For the purpose of exploiting, harming or attempting to exploit or harm minors in any way;
To generate or disseminate verifiably false information and/or content with the purpose of harming others;
To generate or disseminate personal identifiable information that can be used to harm an individual;
To defame, disparage or otherwise harass others;
For fully automated decision making that adversely impacts an individual’s legal rights or otherwise creates or modifies a binding, enforceable obligation;
For any use intended to or which has the effect of discriminating against or harming individuals or groups based on online or offline social behavior or known or predicted personal or personality characteristics;
To exploit any of the vulnerabilities of a specific group of persons based on their age, social, physical or mental characteristics, in order to materially distort the behavior of a person pertaining to that group in a manner that causes or is likely to cause that person or another person physical or psychological harm;
For any use intended to or which has the effect of discriminating against individuals or groups based on legally protected characteristics or categories;
To provide medical advice and medical results interpretation;
To generate or disseminate information for the purpose to be used for administration of justice, law enforcement, immigration or asylum processes, such as predicting an individual will commit fraud/crime commitment (e.g. by text profiling, drawing causal relationships between assertions made in documents, indiscriminate and arbitrarily-targeted use).”

As a result of these restrictions, law enforcement around the world has incurred a heavy burden, and I don’t think Stability.ai took the corresponding stakeholders into confidence before releasing Stable Diffusion. It should also go without saying that the license choosing to colour within the lines of the laws of respective countries means, say, a country that doesn’t recognise X as a crime will also fail to recognise harm in the harrassment of victims of X – now with the help of Stable Diffusion. And the vast majority of these victims are women and children, already disempowered by economic, social and political inequities. Is Stability.ai going to deal with these people and their problems? I think not. But as I said, the cat’s already out of the bag.