Science is a Whore

If you're like me, this is just an obvious statement. However, everywhere in the media, science is portrayed as this community of dedicated professionals seeking the truth about the universe. People who question anything portrayed as scientific are labelled wackos, heretics or even worse Naturopaths.
Don't think an H1N1 shot is necessary? You're ignorant of science.
Don't believe that Global Warming is the harbinger of Armageddon? You're a right-wing stooge for big business.
In reality, there is no community voice from science. In order to make money, scientists must find a company willing to pay them for data manipulation or a university willing to fund their research. The justification for any scientific work is always money or politics. Pure science is simply a tool for selling a product or an idea.
Want to prove that your party's position is justified? You simply pay for a scientific poll. But how scientific can an opinion be? Doesn't matter as long as the sample size is big enough to make the results accurate to within +-2% 19 times out of 2o.

Just listen to this science fiction writer's account of trying to make a living as a marine biologist.
He spent ten years getting a bunch of degrees in the ecophysiology of marine mammals (how's that for unbridled optimism), and another ten trying make a living on those qualifications without becoming a whore for special-interest groups. This proved somewhat tougher that it looked; throughout the nineties he was paid by the animal welfare movement to defend marine mammals; by the US fishing industry to sell them out; and by the Canadian government to ignore them. He eventually decided that since he was fictionalising science anyway, he might as well add some characters and plot and try selling to a wider market than the Journal of Theoretical Biology.

There is much more but I'm neither a writer nor a scientist for a living. I can only squeeze blog entries between coaching soccer practice and carting kids to friends for play dates. This idea will be explored further but for now I'm off to change a rear-facing car seat to front-facing for my growing boy.

Cul-De-Sac's Arch Nemesis

The Cul-De-Sac hero has been noticing a draining affect on his powers of late. His force field has not been as powerful and his boundless strength has been waning when he needs it most. Maybe it was the late night crying of his children who can't seem to have simultaneous nights of complete sleep. However, it is looking more and more like a malicious force has been reaching out from the depths of the city core to undermine the real estate values and political power of the suburban empire.
I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I was unaware of the menace before, but it's just hard to get through the important pages of a newspaper on a 40 minute train ride to get to the pages where the menace thrives. The "Life" and "Arts" sections where diatribes of this phantom have been flourishing.
Of course, now that I've been alerted to his presence by one of my favourite author/bloggers, other superheroes have already started the fight. Unfortunately, I've been focusing on my day-time persona a little too much to really be much of a force in the fight to save the land of cul-de-sacs. I'll just have to add my two cents and leave it at that.
The menace has a name, Richard Florida. He has a purpose: to collect large salaries and consultants fees for waxing ideologically in print media, government reports and classroom settings. What ideology? The ideology of "The Creative Class" or the "Creative Age". As if the other ages were the result of people who couldn't tap into their creativity. I wouldn't dare call inventors of steam engines, phonograph records and cotton gins creative, would I? Didn't they simply apply basic science in novel (gasp... creative) ways to solve problems and enhance life as we know it? Wow, what a disaster. Now look at the mess we're in - all these tools, houses and infrastructure.
The whole point of this movement, is that the economy is transforming into one based on creativity rather than the laborious industrialized economy that we're stuck with right now. You know, the one with carpenters, welders and factory workers that build us those things we barely use anymore like um.... houses, bridges, trains and cars. So, all of those people are supposed to drop their um hammery-weldy thingys and pick up one of those cool new laptops - the Mac ones, not PC's - and become a copy writer or graphics designer or something "creative" to use their full "creative capital".
The principle on which Florida bases his new ideology is that every human being is creative and has the right, and thereby, duty to use his "full talents and creative abilities." I have met a lot of people and while some are definitely creative, I'm sure that not everyone wants to stand up and present the outcome of their full creativity to their company's board of directors. If any company allowed all of their employees to simply be creative, there would not be much real capital to share with investors. The sad truth is that not all people should be allowed to be completely creative. Most people, I find, are happy being given a task and a time frame. Be the time frame a 60 second assembly line window or a 6 month IT project, people like guidelines.
I was once an energetic, idealistic, young recruit full of ideas that would revolutionize the industry until a few rude awakenings taught me that things are done a certain way for a reason. Not all creative capital is good at creating real capital.
The corporate structure isn't perfect, but it does help to filter out some of those cockamamie ideas brought up by young foolish kids fresh out of school. Some cockamamie ideas from the experienced staff still get pushed through, of course, but we're all human.
Maybe my creative capital was not developed enough which is why I'm now a jaded mid-level office worker with a blog-writing super-hero alter-ego. Maybe, if I hadn't been stifled, I would already be an highly paid executive consultant, marketing my creative problem solving skills and living the neo-bohemian, bourgeois lifestyle, raising a family from a two-bedroom, plus den condo in the core. Or maybe I would have just bought a bigger house in the suburbs. See, the problem with all these creative beatniks and gays that Florida thinks are the measuring stick of a city's health is that they don't breed. Well, some do breed but they immediately start to transform themselves into crossover-driving soccer moms and dads and look for a house with room to grow. They might even use some of their precious creative capital to decorate it.

Proof I am a Free Range Parent or, more acurately, Proof My Child is Free Range

The Cul-de-sac’s docile and relaxed appearance belies the busy lifestyle of its inhabitants. In actuality, I have very little time for enjoyment of my pleasant abode and its surroundings. Enjoyment is exactly the reason we have long weekends. However, those in the cul-de-sac, who own their castles, must attend to the often-neglected tasks: both the obvious, like cutting the grass and pulling weeds, and the not-so-obvious but essential tasks, like re-grouting the shower tiles. Priorities often conflict with outward appearances so I hurriedly finished my hidden task so that I could at least enjoy a little holiday sunshine – especially to get away from the fumes of the caulk.
Truth be told, I love cutting the grass and pulling weeds. I don’t like green socks and shoes, but it’s satisfying to see a lush (in places) uniformly green pasture. At least it’s uniform length in the places that it is growing. The problem is that a 3, going on 4, year old companion also desperately needs some fresh air. He can help, or pretend to help pull the “flowers” that Daddy calls dandelions, but cutting the grass is another matter. Whirring blades, even from my push-reel mower, and weed-whackers are not the safest things to be playing near. Of course, a responsible almost-four-year-old can understand the danger or at least listen to Daddy’s warnings to stay away. The question: how to occupy a child while I’m busy spinning dangerous blades at a safe distance. Then of course, I have to go do the back yard. Not undoable, but I must use my cunning to do it safely without resorting to sending the child inside.
Thankfully, two answers arrived home in the form of neighbour’s children, one, an eleven-year-old star soccer player, the other, only about a year older than mine. Suddenly, chalk is marking the sidewalk and soccer balls are being bounced between pairs of feet.
In no time, my obvious task is complete, and I’m ready to complete the backyard. A quick check with the older child and a word or two with my own and I am ready to venture out of sight. Worried? Slightly. Thankfully, Lenore Skenazy has been coaching me in raising Free Range Kids. I’ve yet to buy her book, but the next time I have the luxury of going to the bookstore, it is mine. I was sure that my son and I were both ready to take our first step toward becoming Free Range. Much preparation has taken place. However, this was still a little nerve wracking.
So, I went back to the yard work. I set a new fastest time in cutting and trimming the back – even though the grass looked like a hayfield, in the places that it was growing, and my check-ups on the kid’s chalk drawings. It barely even caused a stir in my heart when I came back to the front to find all three of our yards empty. The logical explanation was the right one. No abductions, no runaways. Just an invitation to a sandbox filled with toys where parents were filling boxes with flowers. Another clue as to how similar we are to our neighbours.
I am sure that my son is free-range. He simply is too curious not to be. I can’t make that decision for him. I can help him prepare for the challenges that life will present when his curiosity overcomes whatever fears I might instill in him, intentionally or otherwise.
My suburb is actually not too bad. I see pre-teen and pre-pre-teen children roaming or playing under what some would say are lax supervision all the time. I don’t think that the horror-stories mentioned in Lenore’s blog are too common here. Still, helicopter parents and minivan-cloistering is becoming more and more common. I just hope it doesn’t become more common than the sense, my parents tried to instill in their children.

The Green Election

In Canada, only one party is called Green. However, the 2008 election could be the greenest on record and not just because the so-named party is actually running candidates in 305 of 308 ridings.
Every party has put forward a position on the environment. Some, like the Conservatives offer a few token gestures. The big, red Liberals have donned green tunics, tied their entire campaign hopes tightly to the anchor known as the "Green Shift" and recklessly tossed it into the deep election waters with a very short rope. Needless to say, their boat is tipping badly and not moving anywhere. Incredibly, nobody in Liberal leader Stephane Dion's party read the financial papers or even gas station signs prior to committing his political future and the party's fortunes to this huge gamble. Dion has shown that he is completely out of touch with the needs of the population and the world. Doesn't he realize that an enormous spike in oil and gas prices have frightened the green out of people? They've also done more to reduce emissions, or at least expediate the development of alternatives, than he or any tax policy could ever do.
Last year, everyone was basking in the warm glow of Al Gore and his empowering message of hope. This year, people wonder what their meals will look like when produce costs twice as much to be imported or harvested and their jobs have disappeared in the midst of a global recession.
As for the other two parties on the left, the Green party is benefitting from the remaining environmental sentiment as well as having no hope of forming a government. With nothing to lose, all promises and statements are on the table. The NDP is trying to balance the popularity of green initiatives with its need to maintain employment for its union-based supporters. Yes Mr.Layton, no industry means no jobs.
What we get is a whole lot of dancing around the subject. Nothing any party says will make a dent in the economy, our energy needs or the environment. If a party was serious about helping all three of these things, they would promise to mandate a certain percentage of cars sold in Canada must be electric or alternative fuel within 10 years, subsidize factories making electric cars and pump billions of dollars into nuclear power plants. This party unfortunately does not exist.

Summer Seige on Driving: When is Gasoline Renewable?

Summer was busy so I haven’t blogged. So here is a brief recap of my thoughts at the end of summer.

In the beginning of summer, I felt like my cul-de-sac-filled suburb was a war zone under occupation. The gas stations were outposts for the army of oil speculators - checkpoints that must be passed to prove one’s worthiness and loyalty. Approval, in the form of available credit is all that is required. Pay at the pump allows the worthy to pass the check-point without even seeing the poorly paid representative of our occupiers.

Finally, relief came towards the end of the summer in the form of merely stratospheric gas prices. Well, within a year of the $1+ gas signs being unveiled, we celebrated gas dropping below $1.25. It’s funny that the biggest surprise in the 13 cent jump in gas prices during Hurricane Ike was that it was unannounced; a sharp reminder that the oil companies are back in control while the speculators portfolios are dwindling.

Observations from the summer:

I saw a bumper sticker that said, “I’m driving as fast as I can afford.”

There is only one time when gasoline is renewable energy: when it is stored as kinetic energy in a coasting car. I don’t get people who speed up and then hit the brakes at the last minute when the light just turned red. I coast along side them and speed past as the light changes to green.

Most people have not changed their driving habits as far I can tell.

Carlessly Negotiating a Parking Lot

Ever tried to walk to the store? One of the things I like about my neighbourhood is the amenities within walking distance. On my way home from the park I thought I'd walk over to the drug store to see if they had a Wii Fit. Video games at a drug store, you say? Never mind.
It seems simple enough. The boy sits on his tricycle while I steer from behind. I seemed to ignore the fact that the Shopper's Drug Mart is on the far side of a big parking lot that some urban planner thought made sense. It makes sense if your in a car, but to a pedestrian, especially one with a stroller or other child-wheeling device, this parking lot is a nightmare.
Why would it occur to the planner of a parking lot to think about people arriving by foot, or even walking from one store to the other. Are feet only for accelerators now? On one side, the sidewalk goes right past the plaza with no walking entrance. I would have to dodge traffic in the lane or walk all the way around where there are a few token level ramps on a sidewalk-island that leads to, surprise, the other sidewalk-island. Of course to get to the store, you have to negotiate an ten-inch curb. Not easy with a stroller or a toddler on a tricycle. I can just imagine the planner picturing the pedestrians doing laps back and forth on the island on his layout while cars whiz by to actually do shopping. Hmm... pedestrians sure are, well, pedestrian. Those clever people in cars are brilliantly whiz right past them.
So, I managed to dodge the two thirds of drivers who don't care to notice the heartbeat-powered travellers on their parking lots thanks to the one-third who care enough to stop and let a man with a toddler cross in front of them. I walked past rows of idling cars, waiting for their pampered master to arrive, empty or with one air-conditioned occupant, and couldn't help thinking like we're doomed to expend all the oil we can without even taking a second thought. I just don't think most people get it. Gas is approaching a dollar-forty. Your conveyance is hurting your bottom line and you leave it idling so that we don't have to spend more than 20 seconds without airconditioning.
It's not just the minds we have to change, the attitude is built right into the infrastructure. We've cemented our fate with ten-inch curbs.
Realizing this, I seriously hope the debunkers of Peak Oil are right - http://peakoildebunked.blogspot.com/.
As I suspected they were sold out, so I'm going to have to drive somewhere to get my Wii Fit so I can exercise in private.

The Fine Eye on the Signs

Well, I made it to work and back for another day. Gas jumped 4 cents as oil has another jittery day on the market. Every morning, the radio announcer gives another excuse for the spike or dip in the price of oil. Every dip seems to be punished by a two or three-fold swing in the other direction. Usually some far away matter is used to shoulder the blame – a riot in Nigeria, an war-like statement from Israel or a dire prediction from an expert in the field.

It’s funny that the media now can announce what the exact price of a litre of gasoline, down to a tenth of a cent, will be tomorrow morning. Amazingly, all of the signs fall in line, right behind the announcers like the colour guard following the drum major.

Not too long ago, gas used to swing up and down ten cents every other week without a batted eyelash from any media outlet. Then, after Hurricane Katrina, oil companies began releasing excuses for gas price jumps. We began to hear when a refinery was down or deliveries were disrupted. Now, they have created a mini-industry of PR staff searching for the next excuse.

I don’t mean to be all doom and gloom. I want to explore alternatives to the theory of a sharp decline. Alternative is a word that evokes windmills, solar panels and cars that plug in overnight, but I am looking for an alternative future to the one predicted by The Peak Oil Theory. I find it hard to believe that my whole community will pick up and abandon the neighbourhoods in the outskirts and run back to the city centre like a reversal of the White Flight of the seventies and eighties. Besides, the new condos downtown are way to small for a family of three or four.

Still, every time I look out the window of my train to see the windmill, turning or not, I scoff at the idea that it is somehow making a dent in the energy shortage. A windmill can power something like 500 homes. Well, I can see 500 homes from my front window and I live in what’s called a medium-high density area. We can dot the whole landscape with windmills and still can barely run a laptop in every home much less heat them all. I doubt that that a windmill can even produce enough power to push the train I ride for a one-way trip.

To me, an alternative is the laptop I am writing on right now. It will allow me to work from home, stay in my community and improve my lifestyle. Oil prices be damned. Of course this is only one small piece in the solution to save the cul-de-sac, but so is wind power. Let's not abandon ship just yet. There is more to the suburbs than cookie cutter houses and manicured lawns. I think it's worth saving if indeed it is on a disaster course.