Beauty and the Biased

A big thank you to Matin Durrani for the invitation to provide my thoughts on the Strumia saga — see “The Worm That (re)Turned” and “The Natural Order of Things?” for previous posts on this topic — for this month’s issue of Physics World. PW kindly allows me to make the pdf of the Opinion piece available here at Symptoms. The original version (with hyperlinks intact) is also below.

(And while I’m at it, an even bigger thank you to Matin, Tushna, and all at PW for this immensely flattering (and entirely undeserved, given the company I’m in) accolade…

From Physics World, Dec. 2018.

A recent talk at CERN about gender in physics highlights that biases remain widespread, Philip Moriarty says we need to do more to tackle such issues head on

When Physics World asked several physicists to name their favourite books for the magazine’s 30th anniversary issue, I knew immediately what I would choose (see October pp 74-78). My “must-read” pick was Sabine Hossenfelder’s exceptionally important Lost In Math: How Beauty Leads Physics Astray, which was released earlier this year.

Hossenfelder, a physicist based at the Frankfurt Institute of Technology, is an engaging and insightful writer who is funny, self-deprecating, and certainly not afraid to give umbrage. I enjoyed the book immensely, being taken on a journey through modern theoretical physics in which Hossenfelder attempts to make sense of her profession. If there is one chapter of the book that particularly resonated with me it’s the concluding Chapter 10, “Knowledge is Power”. This is a powerful closing statement that deserves to be widely read by all scientists, but especially by that especially irksome breed of physicist who believes — when all evidence points to the contrary — that they are somehow immune to the social and cognitive biases that affect every other human.

In “Knowledge is Power”, Hossenfelder adeptly outlines the primary biases that all good scientists have striven to avoid ever since the English philosopher Francis Bacon identified his “idols of the tribe” – i.e. the tendency of human nature to prefer certain types of incorrect conclusions. Her pithy single-line summary at the start of the chapter captures the key issue: “In which I conclude the world would be a better place if everyone listened to me”.

Lost in bias

Along with my colleague Omar Almaini from the University of Nottingham, I teach a final-year module entitled “The Politics, Perception, and Philosophy of Physics”. I say teach, but in fact, most of the module consists of seminars that introduce a topic for students to then debate, discuss and argue for the remaining time. We dissect Richard Feynman’s oft-quoted definition of science: “Science is the belief in the ignorance of experts”.  Disagreeing with Feynman is never a comfortable position to adopt, but I think he does science quite a disservice here. The ignorance, and sometimes even the knowledge, of experts underpins the entire scientific effort. After all, collaboration, competition and peer review are the lifeblood of what we do. With each of these come complex social interactions and dynamics and — no matter how hard we try — bias. For this and many other reasons, Lost In Math is now firmly on the module reading list.

At a CERN workshop on high-energy theory and gender at the end of September, theoretical physicist Alessandro Strumia from the University of Pisa claimed that women with fewer citations were being hired over men with greater numbers of citations. Following the talk, Strumia faced an immediate backlash in which CERN suspended him pending an investigation, while some 4000 scientists signed a letter that called his talk “disgraceful”. Strumia’s talk was poorly researched, ideologically-driven, and an all-round embarrassingly biased tirade against women in physics. I suggest that Strumia needs to take a page — or many — out of Hossenfelder’s book. I was reminded of her final chapter time and time again when I read through Strumia’s cliché-ridden and credulous arguments, his reactionary pearl-clutching palpable from almost every slide of his presentation.

One criticism that has been levelled at Hossenfelder’s analysis is that it does not offer solutions to counter the type of biases that she argues are prevalent in the theoretical-physics community and beyond. Yet Hossenfelder does devote an appendix — admittedly rather short — to listing some pragmatic suggestions for tackling the issues discussed in the book. These include learning about, and thus tackling, social and cognitive biases.

This is all well and good, except that there are none so blind as those that will not see. The type of bias that Strumia’s presentation exemplified is deeply engrained. In my experience, his views are hardly fringe, either within or outside the physics community — one need only look to the social media furore over James Damore’s similarly pseudoscientific ‘analysis’ of gender differences in the context of his overwrought “Google Manifesto” last year. Just like Damore, Strumia is being held up by the usual suspects as the ever-so-courageous rational scientist speaking “The Truth”, when, of course, he’s entirely wedded to a glaringly obvious ideology and unscientifically cherry-picks his data accordingly. In a masterfully acerbic and exceptionally timely blog post published soon after the Strumia storm broke (“The Strumion. And On”), his fellow particle physicist Jon Butterworth (UCL) highlighted a number of the many fundamental flaws at the core of Strumia’s over-emotional polemic.   .

Returning to Hossenfelder’s closing chapter, she highlights there that the “mother of all biases” is the “bias blind spot”, or the insistence that we certainly are not biased:

“It’s the reason my colleagues only laugh when I tell them biases are a problem, and why they dismiss my ‘social arguments’, believing they are not relevant to scientific discourse,” she writes. “But the existence of those biases has been confirmed in countless studies. And there is no indication whatsoever that intelligence protects against them; research studies have found no links between cognitive ability and thinking biases.”

Strumia’s diatribe is the perfect example of this bias blind spot in action. His presentation is also a case study in confirmation bias. If only he had taken the time to read and absorb Hossenfelder’s writing, Strumia might well have saved himself the embarrassment of attempting to pass off pseudoscientific guff as credible analysis.

While the beauty of maths leads physics astray, it is ugly bias that will keep us in the dark.


The Natural Order of Things? Part III: The Song Remains The Same

It’s the same old story, same old song and dance, my friend…

Same Old Song and Dance, Aerosmith. Track 1, Side 1, “Get Your Wings” (1974). Perry/Tyler. Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

Zombie arguments are the lifeblood of the internet. Resistant to all counter-evidence, it doesn’t matter how often they’re shot down — they will arise (under a pale gray sky[i]) to live and breed again. The reason for their immortality is laid out in a classic post by David McRaney entitled The Backfire Effect[ii]:

The Misconception: When your beliefs are challenged with facts, you alter your opinions and incorporate the new information into your thinking.

The Truth: When your deepest convictions are challenged by contradictory evidence, your beliefs get stronger.

Or, as McRaney puts it further down that post:

The last time you got into, or sat on the sidelines of, an argument online with someone who thought they knew all there was to know about health care reform, gun control, gay marriage, climate change, sex education, the drug war, Joss Whedon or whether or not 0.9999 repeated to infinity was equal to one – how did it go?

Did you teach the other party a valuable lesson? Did they thank you for edifying them on the intricacies of the issue after cursing their heretofore ignorance, doffing their virtual hat as they parted from the keyboard a better person?

No, probably not.

The Backfire Effect in turn underpins Brandolini’s Law:

The amount of energy needed to refute bullshit is an order of magnitude bigger than to produce it.

aka The Bullshit Asymmetry Principle.

The wholly biased presentation on gender bias in science given by Alessandro Strumia at the end of last month featured a veritable army of zombie arguments. These were, of course, unblinkingly accepted by those who share Strumia’s ideological bias:

Without wanting to get too ‘meta’ here, Damore’s “I’ve not seen anyone address the points this put-upon man has raised” claim is itself a zombie argument.  Each time an aggrieved and over-emotional gentleman decides to put across personal opinion, bias, and methodologically-unsound analysis of gender differences as “The Truth” (unfailingly covered up by The Big Bad Establishment[iii]), their ‘arguments’ are addressed and rebutted. As just one example, Strumia’s pseudoscience was dissected and demolished very quickly by his fellow particle physicist Jon Butterworth in a masterful blend of snark, satire and sharp insight.

You might, therefore, quite reasonably ask just why I’m returning to this theme. Hasn’t Strumia had his 15 minutes of fame and shouldn’t we just ignore him now, given that, for one, his = <Ncitations> pseudoscientific nonsense has been thoroughly rebutted? I have quite some sympathy for that view, I must admit, but I’m exhuming the corpse of Strumia’s pseudostats, and returning to the zombie fray, in order to provide a direct response to David Allen, who left a series of comments and questions under my “The Worm That (re)Turned” post on Strumia. David’s questions and comments were made in a very polite and genuine manner. He deserves a considered response. I’ll address David directly from here on in.

DA: So what explains the tendency for nations that have traditionally less gender equality to have more women in science and technology than their gender-progressive counterparts do? That question is posed here:

Unless there is a consensus of credible proof that the reason for low women numbers n STEM is that they are being discriminated against in some way, I personally will elect to believe it is down to their free choice and agency rather than down to victimhood.

[David’s full comment is here.]

First, David, this is the third in a trilogy of posts entitled “The Natural Order of Things?” that I’ve written[iv]. (Parts I and II are here and here, respectively.) I’m therefore going to be repeating myself to some extent. Again. But such is the nature of zombie arguments. Let’s go through the points in your comments one by one.

Before dealing with the gender equality article you cite, and subsequently getting into the weeds of Strumia’s beliefs, let’s deal with that “proof” word you use repeatedly in your comments. Science is not about proof; any credible scientist knows this. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve quoted Carlo Rovelli on this point (but then his statement about scientific ‘proof’ bears repeating ad infinitum):

The very expression “scientifically proven” is a contradiction in terms. There’s nothing that is scientifically proven. The core of science is the deep awareness that we have wrong ideas, we have prejudices. We have ingrained prejudices. In our conceptual structure for grasping reality, there might be something not appropriate, something we may have to revise to understand better. So at any moment we have a vision of reality that is effective, it’s good, it’s the best we have found so far. It’s the most credible we have found so far; it’s mostly correct.
“Mostly correct.” In other words, we look for evidence to support a particular model but we should always have the humility and insight to realise that science is not about certainty; that our understanding is provisional. (Religion, on the other hand, is all about certainty: this is the natural order of things as ordained by God (or gods.))


Being aware of the nature of scientific evidence is especially important when it comes to arguments about gender balance where, even if we leave aside the issue of ideological bias (in both directions), there is a wealth of conflicting data out there. In “The Worm That (re-)Turned At CERN” I mentioned the Heterodox Academy analysis of Damore’s cherry-picking of data for his “Google manifesto”. (Strumia took that cherry-picking approach and added quite a few more punnets on top. More on that later). I would suggest that you carefully read that HA analysis, David. Note that the evidence is not incontrovertibly pointing one way or another: there is a great deal of controversy and debate in the literature regarding many aspects of gender differences.


Any good scientist — or, indeed, anyone who, like yourself, would claim to be an open-minded “fence-sitter”, only interested in where the data leads them[v] — must take into account this conflict in the literature. Any credible analysis must start from a position of recognising the lack of consensus in the literature. This is not what Strumia did. He instead made definitive statements on the basis of both cherry-picked arguments and shockingly weak suppositions (of a type I would not expect high school students, let alone a scientist of Strumia’s position, to make. We’ll get to those.)


So, let’s leave aside the naive and simplistic idea that there’s a definitive deductive “proof” one way or the other. The key issue is the extent to which the scientific evidence supports a given claim. If there is insufficient evidence and/or a lack of consensus in the studies the very best we can be is agnostic. Anything else would be unscientific. I hope we can at least agree on this.


That out of the way, let’s turn to the article in The Atlantic you cited…


Issues with the Global Gender Gap Index


One key problem with so much of the online debate on gender differences — and just about any other subject under the sun — is that there’s a very strong tendency to rely on secondary sources, eg. news articles about a particular study, rather than consult the original source. This is often understandable because the source can be trapped behind a paywall, as in this case. (I’ve, however, released the paper cited by The Atlantic article into the wild via this link.) Nonetheless, it’s essential not to credulously swallow headlines hook, line, and sinker (especially when a significant fraction of the internet population do nothing more than read the headline. [vi]) Even going beyond the headline to read the article itself is, of course, no guarantee that the study has been accurately reported or that its nuances (and/or deficiencies) have been highlighted.


So let’s take some time to explore exactly what the graph of “Global Gender Gap Index vs % women among STEM graduates” discussed in the article actually means. First, what is the Global Gender Gap Index (GGGI)? How is it calculated, David? Do you know? I certainly didn’t until recently.




I have a deep mistrust of all rankings and league tables because the methodology used to produce these is so very often pseudoquantitative and pseudostatistical at best, and complete nonsense at worst. And, lo and behold, what do we find when we take even the most cursory look at the origin of the GGGI figures? “In short, the country rankings in the Global Gender Gap Report are misleading at best and completely meaningless at worst.” I urge you to to take the time to read the analysis at that link for yourself, David. The author considers the life expectancy metric as just one example:


As the Index is rewarding a greater ratio, lower development values are rewarded (i.e. lower healthy life expectancy). Consequently, since the gender gap was the same in Denmark and Rwanda in 2016, but Rwanda had a lower life expectancy, they performed better on the Index (13 places better than Denmark). This problem becomes more and more serious when the overall level of development decreases and the gender gap increases.
Always look beyond the headlines, David. Question the methodology. Be sceptical — or, if you must, be skeptical — and think critically, rather than blindly accept an analysis because it’s got lots of numbers, and graphs, and looks “sciencey”. (More on this soon.)


Taken in isolation, there’s a distinct absence of error bars on that graph above. How are we supposed to know whether any of those relative country placements are statistically significant? It’s clear from the distribution of ‘data’ on the graph that a ‘resolution’ down to the third decimal place has been used to place the points. How is that justified? Moreover, it’s exceptionally weak to just do a naive linear regression without showing (or knowing) the effective uncertainty in each of the points. (But how would we accurately determine an uncertainty for each point?) Even then, because the methodology in generating the index is flawed, the numerical analysis is always going to be suspect.


To quote Pauli just slightly out of context, if the methodology is incorrect and the uncertainties aren’t accounted for, then any assertions made are not even wrong. And, as Einstein is (most likely apocryphally) reported to have said: not everything that counts can be counted, and not everything that can be counted, counts. For example, here’s another set of reasons why you shouldn’t take the GGGI data at face value: Is gender inequality really so low in the Philippines? Or, if you want a broader discussion of why you shouldn’t place your faith in rankings in general, try this. (Or, in a higher education context, try this, this, or this).


Even, however, if we faithfully and naively take the GGGI data purely at face value (a la Strumia), then the Psychological Science paper to which you refer via that article in The Atlantic –you’ve read the original paper, right? — is hardly supportive of Strumia’s stance. To be clear, Strumia is arguing that there is an innate and immutable biological/genetic difference that underpins the difference in performance in physics for males and females. (He ludicrously use citation rates as an indication of mean IQ level and, thus, physics performance. Again, we’ll get back to that.)


You are making a slightly different, though related, argument to that Strumia attempts to put forward. Your focus in your comment above is on the question of discrimination vs “free agency”. It’s worth noting that Janet Shibley Hyde, to whom I refer at length in The Natural Order Of Things, and someone who is hardly ideologically aligned with Strumia’s beliefs, is quoted as follows in that article:


“Some would say that the gender stem gap occurs not because girls can’t do science, but because they have other alternatives, based on their strengths in verbal skills,” she said. “In wealthy nations, they believe that they have the freedom to pursue those alternatives and not worry so much that they pay less.”

Instead, this line of research, if it’s replicated, might hold useful takeaways for people who do want to see more Western women entering stem fields. In this study, the percentage of girls who did excel in science or math was still larger than the number of women who were graduating with stem degrees. That means there’s something in even the most liberal societies that’s nudging women away from math and science, even when those are their best subjects.


Like Shibley Hyde (and, indeed, the vast majority of those of us with interests in improving gender balance in STEM subjects), I am more than willing to accept that direct discrimination is not always necessary in order for women and girls to choose other career options or make non-STEM subject choices at school, respectively. (Or, to use your rather overwrought description instead, no “victimhood” is required.) However, just as it’s best to leave behind the naive idea that science provides us with definitive, deductive proofs, it’s also a good idea not to assume yes/no, black/white answers to everything. Uncomfortable, I know, but as Rovelli explains, science is not about certainty. (And before you assume that this is some new-fangled, social justice-enabled liberal definition of science, here’s the physicist’s physicist, Richard Feynman, on the same subject back in the seventies:


It is necessary and true that all of the things we say in science, all of the conclusions, are uncertain, because they are only conclusions. They are guesses as to what is going to happen, and you cannot know what will happen, because you have not made the most complete experiments.
So it’s not a binary state; there’s a spectrum of possibilities. And there is good evidence that discrimination occurs — as described here, here, and here, for example. (You could in turn, after a modicum of research, point me to the Ceci and Williams article that argued precisely the opposite. And I, in turn, could point you to the large number of deficiencies in Ceci and Williams’ work. Again, this is how scientific debate and discussion work.)


DA: So far, sitting on the fence in this matter, I’ve seen no point by point uniquivicable rebuttal of each of Strumia’s slides. Only supperfical attempts where someon interprets 1-3 slides differntly to Strunio and uses that interpretation to claim everything he said is fallacious.


Instead of a genine attempt at proving him wrong, what we see iare widespread claims of ‘poor arguments’, ‘shameful’ type comments followed by ad hominem attacks and the cherrypicking and vague assertions in the open letter itself. And of course suspension.


Strumia’s core premise is so flawed as to be laughable. His argument rests on the idea that citations scale directly not only with the quality of science but, remarkably, with intelligence. Let’s deal with the quality issue first. Citations are a measure of the popularity and “impact” of a paper; nothing more, nothing less. (How would you or Strumia “prove” otherwise, David? What’s your (normalised) metric for quality as distinct from impact?) A paper can attract a large number of citations for reasons other than the quality of the science (including the prestige of the group that produced the work). More worryingly, sometimes papers that are fundamentally methodologically flawed attract a large number of citations. (And before anyone suggests otherwise, let me state categorically that I am not suggesting that any of Strumia’s work is flawed, although he does seem to have spent quite some time fruitlessly developing explanations for what was a mundane noise blip (at 750 GeV), gaining many citations in the process.) Here are just two examples of which I’m especially familiar: stripy nanoparticles and nanoflares.


As Jon Butterworth alludes to, citations also need to be normalised to a particular (sub-)sub-field for them to be of any value at all. (And just how do we normalise to a particular field?) Citation patterns, and the scale of collaboration, vary dramatically across even just one discipline: solid state physicists tend to have much smaller numbers of co-authors on a paper as compared to the experimental particle physics community. Citation rates within the particle physics community (or, indeed, any community) alone will also depend on the “visibility” of a researcher in terms of their networking and collaborative activity. (Butterworth points to his involvement with the ATLAS and CMS collaborations). Moreover, the journal in which a paper is published makes a significant difference to the citation rate.


Attempts to balance quality and quantity of science for a given researcher via something called the h-index are similarly problematic. (See here for Philip Ball’s insightful critique of h-indices). I have referred in the past to this Popperian analysis of the h-index:




So, to cut a long story short (and I haven’t even begun to scratch the surface of the issues with citation analyses), drawing a direct line from number of citations to scientific quality is clearly not a particularly scientific strategy to adopt. (If you’re going to argue otherwise, David, I’ll ask again: which metric do you use to disentangle impact from scientific quality in an entirely numerically and statistically robust manner? And what sort of measurement uncertainty would you place on that value?) As Jon Butterworth points out (see his footnote #2), Strumia’s “asymmetry parameter” re. citation rates also looks distinctly odd and far from evidence-based. (The definition Strumia uses does, however, helpfully align with his argument and ideology. Who’d have thunk it?)


That’s bad enough. What’s worse is that Strumia made an additional wild pseudoscientific leap to claim that there’s a direct link between IQ and the number of citations an individual scientist attracts. Even if we blindly accepted that citations and scientific quality go hand in hand — which we can’t; see above — Strumia drags out the classic zombie argument about the tails of the IQ distribution. This has already been critiqued by a number of authors — see my first The Natural Order Of Things post for just a few examples. More topically, however, shortly after Strumia’s mish-mash of stats, pseudostats, and groundless inferences made the headlines, the Institute of Physics published this. Here are the key points from the article of relevance to our exchange (although you should, of course, go to the primary source as well…):


The authors say that their study disproves the “variability hypothesis”, which suggests that male over-representation in STEM careers comes from a greater variability in grades among boys than girls (Nature Communications9 3777).


By analysing the grade distributions, the researchers found that the top 10% of grades in STEM subjects had an equal gender ratio, while non-STEM subjects were female-heavy. “Our results support greater male variability in academic performance, but they don’t support gender differences in variability as an explanation for gender differences in workforce participation because we find the smallest gender differences in variability in maths and science,” O’Dea told Physics World.
(Note that I dislike the use of the term “disproves” in the preceding quote for all of the reasons discussed above.)


Strumia not only runs with the “variability hypothesis”, he decides he’s going to arbitrarily cherry-pick the cut-off point he needs in order to “fit” his data. This is not, to put it mildly, credible analysis.


DA: If those in science are in the business of rebutting numbers and graphs (even ‘bad’ numbers and graphs) with insults, anger, and tears of hurt feelings, then it doesn’t engender confidence in the scientific commumity working dispassionatlely. It imples political bias rather than an honest quest for the truth – because what if that truth is ‘uncomfortable’? Scionce should not be concerned with feelings. What next – trigger warnings outside conferences?


Like you, I see hurt feelings, anger, and an overwrought, over-emotional, and unscientific analysis. We differ on the source, however. Strumia’s presentation was heavy on petulance, arrogance, and whining: “I’ve got more citations. Why wasn’t I given the job? Why? It’s just not fair. Physics was invented and built by men. Men, I tell you.” It is beyond unprofessional to use a conference presentation to make personal attacks and whine about failing to get a job. Strumia not only insulted a colleague, he insulted an entire gender. He’s clearly not on an “honest quest” for the truth. If he were, he’d have presented a much less biased and cherry-picked analysis, and spent rather more time thinking carefully about the (lack of) validity of nonsensical assertions like IQ scales with <Ncitations>.


On the other hand, I see in the community response a professional and sober rebuttal of Strumia’s claims. (But a bit of a naff URL, admittedly…)


It is rather naive, David, to claim that the scientific process isn’t concerned with “feelings”. I know that’s the myth but Strumia’s impassioned/overwrought (delete to taste) presentation was driven, at least in part, by his emotional reaction to being passed over for a job. Similarly, science is a social enterprise. We are not emotionless, wholly objective automatons free of all external and internal biases. Peer review, for one, is a messy, all-too-human process. To argue otherwise betrays a deep lack of understanding of just how science progresses. (See “The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but…” for more on this.)


DA: Thank you for the link to David Smith. David is doing what we all do. He starts with an opinion, and sorts the millions of related facts into a hierarchy, with those at the top placed there to support his view. Then challenging any contrary opinions while accepting supporting ones.

…which is exactly what Strumia did. But somehow Strumia’s analysis is robust while Smith’s rebuttal isn’t? (Are you quite sure that you haven’t fallen off that fence, David…?) Strumia made assertions. Smith went through those assertions and provided counter-evidence. That’s how scientific debate works.

DA: For example point 6. “If you are interested in whether there are innate gender differences between male and female brains, then you must read neuropsychologist Lise Eliot, who refutes the dominance of biology concluding socialization is vital.”

So, Lisa Elliot is irrefutable? Are there no eminent biologists out there claiming the opposite?

Um, who said that Elliot is irrefutable, David? Point me to where David S has said that? I can’t speak for David Smith but I, for one, have been at pains before to highlight both sides of the argument. I’ve spent quite a bit of time reading Baron-Cohen and Pinker (among others). I would, however, ask you in turn to do me the courtesy of reading Angela Saini’s “Inferior” and Cordelia Fine’s “Testosterone Rex” and “Delusions of Gender” before responding. I have done my homework for this post.

DA: I want you to know that I don’t agree with a lot of what Strumia says. But just because his reasoning on, say, IQ and number of citations is probably way off, it doesn’t mean that everything he says is way off.

Thanks for this, David. I’m a little confused, however. You argued above that Strumia produced a robust, quantitative analysis and that he should be listened to on that basis. Yet the entire premise of that ‘quantitative’ analysis was based on his faulty reasoning between IQ and citation numbers. If you agree that his reasoning was faulty, what is it that you think isn’t “way off”? And on what basis do you think that, given you feel his quantitative reasoning is “probably way off”?

DA: 1) I believe that someone’s race, sex, religion etc should not be a factor in what someone is allowed to say, or as a consideration in whether they get a job or not.

2) Therefore I do not believe in positive discrimation since it involves negative discrimination against others. If person A is using sex in their decision to hire someone, they are also using it not to hire somone else.

3) I do not believe in retaliation in the form of suspension or job loss, or verbal/written lynch mobs of 150 people against 1 person because that person (male or femail) challanges allowed norms. Apart from in extreme cases.

4) I do not believe in group A deciding what is moral and then conveniently claiming they are morally superior to group B. There are some exceptions of course.

5) I believe that femails have the same intelligence, (and in the West) the same potential and agency as males, and that in general if they are not in STEM it’s because they don’t want to be. There are more women than men in universities and unless someone can demonstrate the opposite, my presumption is that they are choosing the qualifications they are taking.

6) I don’t believe in witch hunts, trial by twitter, or labelling a person’s indentity as x or y because they said a few things. In the rational world there is big difference beween saying ‘that was a misogynist remark’ and ‘you are a misogynist’.

 1) Hmmm. So a fully committed, evanegelical creationist should be employed to teach cosmology and/or evolution? They disclose this at interview and say that they will teach science according to their belief system or not at all. Should they (a) be employed, and (b) have free rein over what they cover in that course? Or let’s say that, as admissions tutor, I am asked to give a talk to A-level students at a Catholic school and I decide to turn up there in a Slayer “God Hates Us All” T-shirt, or, worse, something emblazoned with a Cannibal Corpse album cover/title (or anything from this delightful list). Or I give a talk along the lines suggested here. I should be free to say whatever I want under whatever circumstances? Really?

2) Positive discrimination of the type you describe is unlawful in the UK.

3) I agree. See my original post. Dismissal helps foster that victimhood/martydom mentality for those like Strumia and Damore who will claim they were silenced for speaking “The Truth” despite their version of the truth being rather ideologically-skewed and easily rebutted. My suggestions for alternative strategies are outlined in this response to my colleague Anne Green.

4) This happens with any in-group vs out-group dynamic. “The right” is just as guilty of this as “the left”. See, for example, the moral outrage re. lampooning Trump, “taking the knee“, or the general patriotic correctness of the right.

5) But there are social biases everywhere. I, for one, would much rather see greater numbers of men involved in primary school teaching and in other so-called “nurturing” professions. On what basis are those decisions being made? If you say they’re genetically/biologically hard-wired to the extent that the sexually dimorphic signal outweighs the environmental (i.e. societal) influence, I will ask you — as I have asked so many others — to provide me with conclusive evidence that this is the case. Again, I would suggest you read Saini’s and Fine’s books, to which I refer above.

6) I agree.

I’m glad we could finish on a point of agreement, David. I already alluded to the point you make in the final paragraphs of “The Worm That (re-)Turned...“. There is often a rush to judgement and it is too easy to damn someone for a few hasty or misinterpreted comments. (I enjoyed Jon Ronson’s Shamed, which examines this social dynamic in a number of situations.) In Strumia’s case (and, before him, Damore), however, his were not a few hasty, off-the-cuff remarks. He designed an entire talk around an ideologically-biased and unscientific premise. We all make mistakes. To err is human. But it’s how we change our behaviour in the light of those mistakes that’s key.

Errare humanum est, sed in errare perseverare diabolicum…

[i] And today’s metal reference is*…
(*Aerosmith aren’t metal.)

[ii] I may have occasionally referred to this exceptionally important piece in previous posts.

[iii] See also #34 on this list. Oh, and #5. And #28. And #33. And #36.

[iv] Currently a trilogy of three. (This, in Adams-esque fashion, may well change…)

[v] Loaded terms like “victimhood” do not, however, lend credence to your claim to be totally unbiased.

[vi] …or do they?

The Worm That (re-)Turned at CERN

“The dateline is 2012. England is in the grip of a new regime of terror. Traditionally a land of great heroes and brave statesmen — Nelson, Wellington, Disraeli, Churchill – Britain now laboured under the yoke of a power guaranteed to strike fear into the hearts of all men. The country is now being run by women.”

That’s how The Two Ronnies mini-series The Worm That Turned kicked off all the way back in 1980. I realise, however, that this, um, lost gem of eighties British TV may have passed some of you by. Let me rectify that right now. Here’s the first episode. Sit back and enjoy (for want of a better term) this classic take on gender politics by those masters of subtle-as-a-sledgehammer satire…

The Two Ronnies was a firm favourite in our household as I grew up during the 70s and 80s. The Worm That Turned ran for eight consecutive weeks, although my memory ain’t what it once was and I assumed that it had gone on for much longer. It certainly seemed that way at the time…

Much more amusing than the series itself, however, is that, almost forty years after it was broadcast, there’s a certain type of gentleman for whom the premise of The Worm That Turned is less hackneyed eighties comedy and much more a chillingly accurate prediction of the sub-Orwellian dystopia that he and his poor, repressed, downtrodden mates now have to endure. The comments under that YouTube video are comedy gold…


I was reminded, and not for the first time in recent years, of The Worm That Turned as I followed the reaction to Alessandro Strumia‘s overwrought, poorly-researched, and cliche-ridden diatribe about women in physics. For those of you who haven’t been following the story, in a nutshell this is what happened: Prof. Strumia stood up at the 1st Workshop on High Energy Theory and Gender  and delivered a talk bemoaning the drive towards greater gender balance in physics. He trotted out the same zombie arguments about male vs female ability/aptitude/preference for physics that have been addressed and/or debunked time and again. (More on this below but if you’re not aware of Angela Saini’s Inferior and/or Cordelia Fine’s Delusions of Gender and Testosterone Rex, put down this blog post right now and go and do something less boring instead (as another staple of 80s British TV used to put it). Read Saini’s and Fine’s books).

Tellingly, and not entirely unexpectedly, Strumia’s slides (which are here) include mention of cultural Marxism so one might guess that a certain Canadian YouTube guru (and social scientist [1]) inspired at least a little of the “woe is men” pearl-clutching. Just like James Damore before him (another fan of the ubiquitous Canadian guru), Strumia wears the mantle of the ever-so-courageous rational scientist “speaking truth to power” and just “telling it like it is”, when, in fact, and despite his loud claims to the contrary, he’s wedded to a glaringly obvious ideology and unscientifically cherry-picks his data accordingly. In Strumia’s case, there’s also a pinch of seething resentment mixed in. (But again, that’s hardly new. Gentlemen of Strumia’s persuasion tend to get very distressed and emotional about women getting above their station; anything from a Ghostbusters movie to female superheroes featuring on tins of pasta can set them off…)


The Guardian, The Times, The Independent, the BBC, and the New York Times, among very many other august publications, have covered the Strumia story in depth. It’s worth reading those articles, of course, but I would also take the time to trawl the Twitter thread below for the lowlights of Strumia’s talk…

Moreover, you should read Jess Wade‘s article in New Scientist.

[Update 10:41 03/10/2018. See Joachim Kopp’s comment below (and my response) re. Jess’ initial tweet above.]

Strumia’s arguments are tediously predictable and totally derivative. Like Damore, his cherry-picking of the data is at astronomical levels. Heterodox Academy, not exactly a left-leaning organisation, laudably took a detailed overview of the literature on gender differences hot on the heels of the furore about Damore’s “manifesto”. I recommend that you take a look at those HA articles; note that the literature is very, very far from unequivocal on the matter of gender differences.

Strumia is clearly a well-cited scientist — he was not exactly shy about highlighting this during his talk — so he must know that any useful review of the literature should be well-balanced and cite both sides of any controversy. But he made no attempt to do this during his talk at the CERN workshop. Instead, he behaved like any tabloid hack, evangelical MRA YouTuber, or pseudoscientist keen to play to the gallery, and completely skewed his sampling of the literature so that he selected only those publications that aligned with his ideology. That’s not how we physicists do science. (Well, at least it’s not how we squalid state physicists do science…)

I’ve been down this road before. Many times. I wrote a post titled The Natural Order of Things a couple of years back to rebut the arguments of those, like Strumia, who misleadingly present the literature on gender differences as cut-and-dried in their favour.  And yet, instead of attempting to address the points I make in that post, those who contact me to complain about my views on gender balance instead trot out the received wisdom ad nauseum, with no attempt to revise their stance in the light of new data or evidence. (With that potent mix of arrogance and ignorance that is the signature characteristic of so much internet traffic, they cite The Blank Slate or Baron-Cohen’s work, assuming, on the basis of no evidence at all, that I have yet to read either.)  I’ll quote Philip Ball yet again: “It’s as if they’re damned if they are going to let your actual words deprive them of their right to air their preconceived notions.”

Apart from the cherry-picking, there’s also the inadvertent comedy of Strumia’s credulous and uncritical methodology to savour. He assumes — on the basis of what evidence? — that citations scale directly with IQ levels, assuming a nicely arbitrary “6 sigma among 10^9 persons” (why 6 sigma? why 10^9?) criterion to ‘fit’ his data. Leaving aside his plucked-from-thin air” assumptions here, there’s a rather more robust analysis of the “tails of the distribution” argument from Janet Hyde and Janet Mertz in their analysis of gender, culture, and mathematics performance.

Why would IQ be immutable? Or independent of environmental influences? And why would citations be solely dependent on IQ? Do prestige, track record, and/or serendipity not play a role? And this is before we even get to the question of the extent to which citations are a measure of scientific quality in the first place. Not everything that counts can be counted…

I’m not going to rehearse, (re-)repeat and rehash the arguments here. They’re covered at length in both The Natural Order Of Things and in a stream I did shortly after the furore about Damore’s manifesto hit:

The slides I used for the discussion in that stream are here. I’ll just highlight one slide in particular:


On the left hand side of that slide are the distributions of eighth grade girls’ and boys’ mathematics scores (in the traditional — well, recently traditional — blue and pink, respectively) for the 2007 Trends in International Mathematics and Science Study (TIMSS). Unlike Strumia’s naive, unquestioning, and simplistic argument that males “universally” feature in the tails of IQ distributions, what we see here are strong geographical differences in maths ability [2]. While boys in Bahrain outperform girls in the tail of the distribution towards higher maths scores, in Tunisia the situation is reversed, whereas in the Czech republic the mark distributions overlap. So, far from having an innate, immutable, “hard-wired” distribution, there are strong geographical variations.

Similarly, and as discussed elsewhere in that stream above, there are distinct temporal variations when it comes to male vs female performance in maths over the years. It is rather difficult to reconcile these geographical and temporal variations with Strumia’s argument that everything can be reduced down to innate male vs female aptitudes and/or preferences. (That’s not to say that there aren’t real differences in male and female brains…)

Despite disagreeing entirely with Strumia’s lazy ‘analysis’, however, I have deep qualms about just how his comments and views are being addressed. Suspension (or, worse, dismissal) plays directly into the martyrdom mindset that underpins and strengthens the popularity of Peterson, Damore et al. (“Those feminazis are quashing free speech.”)  Strumia is in a much different position to Tim Hunt, for example. The latter — despite loud, uninformed protestations (that continue to this day) about a man “losing his livelihood” — was retired at the time he made his misjudged comments at a science journalism conference in Korea back in 2015. Hunt was, in fact, an honorary professor at UCL (and, by definition, was therefore not paid by the university). Strumia is not retired, although some are strongly of the opinion that he should be retired forthwith.

Instead of outright dismissing the man, Strumia’s views should be dissected and dismissed for what they are: hyperbolic, over-simplistic, cherry-picked polemic more befitting a politician than a scientist. His arguments, such as they are, should be taken apart and used as, for one, an example of the lazy lack of appreciation and/.or cherry-picking of the wider literature that is the hallmark of the “Men just are hard-wired to be better at science. Deal with it, ladies” mindset. Let’s not play directly into his and others’ hands by fuelling the narrative that they are oh-so-brave free speech warriors silenced by the “feminazi establishment”.  Their fevered imaginations can conjure up scenarios much worse than Messrs Barker and Corbett ever did…

Update 09:29 03/10/2018: Just been sent a link to Jon Butterworth’s biting and brilliant take on Strumia’s attack of the vapours. Thoroughly recommended.


[1] Yes, psychology is a social science. It’s always chuckle-worthy to hear fully paid-up members of the Cult of Peterson whine incessantly about the social sciences while simultaneously failing to appreciate just where psychology lies on the academic landscape. (And while we’re on the subject, psychology is hardly the most robust of the sciences in terms of reproducibility and credibility. Peterson really should follow his own teachings (and parables) and spend a little more time considering the beam in his own discipline’s eye before whining about the mote in others’…)

[2] I should note that, despite some physicists’ biases to the contrary, ability at math(s) is not the be-all-and-end-all when it comes to intelligence.

Is physics boring?

This is a guest post by Hannah Coleman, a 2nd year physics undergrad here at Nottingham. (Hannah’s YouTube channel is well worth a visit for insights into student life and the trials and tribulations of studying physics.)

One of the more unusual aspects of being an undergraduate is that you are sometimes asked to attend staff meetings as a ‘student representative’. I’ve attended many meetings in my past life where people waffle on for a very long time about all things that should be done but never actually happen. Thankfully the Outreach Committee meetings in the School of Physics and Astronomy don’t fall into that category.

One of the agenda points today was feedback from the Diversity Committee. Our school really works hard to tackle diversity issues in physics, not just for our undergraduate courses, but also, and especially, for A Level physics. Data from 2016 indicates that only 1.9% of girls progress to A Level physics, while 6.5% of boys choose the subject. The other two sciences (and maths) have a much less pronounced gender split.

There are many complicated and subtle reasons why girls choose not to study physics at A Level and university, and these need to be countered very early on. However, one reason that was discussed more than briefly at today’s meeting was the idea that physics is boring. In a room filled with half a dozen physicists, this is a ridiculous notion. Yet I think it is worth considering.

I can only really speak from personal experience, but I have vivid memories of being routinely disappointed by science at school. I received most of my secondary education in South Africa under the IGCSE system, in a school that was mostly driven by money and results, but I had some really good teachers. There were only two male teachers and they taught art and geography, so I certainly wasn’t lacking female roles models in the sciences. I remember both of my maths teachers being very enthusiastic, and they made the classes fun, and the problems seem like puzzles. (I still managed to bag myself an E at IGCSE, but that’s a story for another time).

But the physics sucked.

Now, physics is a truly incredible subject, and the people who study it tend to be fairly passionate and enthusiastic. With the amount of time spent banging your head against a wall while trying to make sense of some problem or other, the enthusiasm is almost a prerequisite. So why is school physics so boring?

I think physics at school is robbed of almost everything that makes it such a fascinating subject. Velocity is boring. Potential energy is boring. Friction is boring. It can all be so incredibly dry when it’s void of any greater context and/or taught by someone who doesn’t particularly enjoy the subject. I remember looking forward to the one lesson of the year that had anything to do with astronomy, only to be hugely disappointed because we learnt about the solar system. Don’t get me wrong, the solar system is pretty incredible, but it felt like we learnt the same facts we learnt at primary school. Where were the quasars, the black holes and the expanding universes?

I saw this same disappointment countless times as a secondary school teaching assistant, and I tried my best to explain to those kids that all of physics was just as interesting if they were willing to dig deeply enough. But I think the curriculum probably lost them pretty quickly.

As someone who has returned to study later in life, I have often thought about (and over-analysed) the reasons I didn’t pursue physics after GCSE. The three things I come back to time and again are the perceived difficulty of the subject (‘it’s too hard for someone like me’), the lack of role models (‘people like me aren’t successful in the field’), and just how dull it was at school. The latter frustrated me the most as a kid, because it wasn’t a perceived fault within me. I knew my teachers could have been teaching us some really cool stuff, but I was worried it wouldn’t change at A Level or university and I’d be stuck doing something that didn’t enthuse me.

The fundamentals of physics don’t have to be boring (and I’m sure all of my lecturers would argue that they most definitely aren’t!). So what’s so special about friction? Why should I be interested in potential energy? Let’s face it, cars on inclined planes aren’t exactly the most fascinating things, but the underlying laws that govern how they interact have so many applications, and are actually kind of cool just by themselves. I hope that if we can show a few kids a different side to physics, then they might be more adventurous with their A Level choices.

Breaking Through the Barriers

A colleague alerted me to this gloriously barbed Twitter exchange earlier today:


Jess Wade‘s razor-sharp riposte to Brian Cox was prompted by just how Dame Jocelyn Bell Burnell has chosen to spend the £2.3M [1] associated with the Breakthrough Prize in Fundamental Physics she was awarded today. Here’s the citation for the Prize:

The Selection Committee of the Breakthrough Prize in Fundamental Physics today announced a Special Breakthrough Prize in Fundamental Physics recognizing the British astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell for her discovery of pulsars – a detection first announced in February 1968 – and her inspiring scientific leadership over the last five decades.

In a remarkable act of generosity, Bell Burnell has donated the entire prize money to the Institute of Physics to fund PhD studentships for, as described in a BBC news article, “women, under-represented ethnic minority and refugee students to become physics researchers.” 

Bell Burnell is quoted in The Guardian article to which Brian refers as follows: “A lot of the pulsar story happened because I was a minority person and a PhD student… increasing the diversity in physics could lead to all sorts of good things.”

As an out-and-proud ‘social justice warrior’, [2] I of course agree entirely.

That rumbling you can hear in the distance, however, is the sound of 10,000 spittle-flecked, basement-bound keyboards being hammered in rage at the slightest suggestion that diversity in physics (or any other STEM subject) could ever be a good thing. Once again I find myself in full agreement with my erstwhile University of Nottingham colleague, Peter Coles:

[1] A nice crisp, round $3M for those on the other side of the pond.

[2] Thanks, Lori, for bringing those wonderful t-shirts to my attention!



Jess Wade: Scientist on a Mission

I got an e-mail with a link to an article in today’s Guardian about the irrepressible and inspiring Jess Wade just before I went to get my afternoon cup of tea. I’ve rushed back, tea in hand, to quickly blog and say how delighted I was to see Jess’ efforts recognised not only by my favourite newspaper — I know, I know, typical sandal-wearing, muesli-munching, beardy, lefty, Cultural Marxist, Guardian-reading academic [1] — but also by the recent award of the Institute of Physics’ Daphne Jackson prize.

As the Guardian article describes, Jess is a postdoc working in the field of organic electronics at Imperial College. I have been aware of Jess’ work and her efforts in public engagement and the promotion of physics to girls for quite some time but most recently met her at a SciFoo ‘unconference’ at the Googleplex, Mountain View, CA (which was …checks diary…almost a year ago. Wow. Time flies.) Jess led a session on gender balance and diversity in science and it was easily the most energetic and engaging session of the entire conference (and that’s saying something, given the competition).

I had brought a copy of Angela Saini’s Inferior with me to read on the plane to SciFoo. Inferior, a t-shirt of whose cover Jess is proudly wearing in the photo accompanying the Guardian article, was deservedly Physics World’s Book Of The Year 2017. (Here’s Jess’ review). Jess had brought about ten copies of Inferior with her to the SciFoo event which she distributed for free at the session! (I should stress that Jess is neither on commission nor did she have a grant from which to buy the books — she bought them with money out of her own pocket.)

I am pleased to say that Jess will be coming to Nottingham Physics & Astronomy later this year to give a talk on her research and that Angela Saini will be speaking to the Science Faculty here for International Women’s Day 2019.

Now, usually the last place you want to spend any time online is below the line, even when it comes to The Guardian’s comments section (as Philip Ball has pointed out). But it’s worth scanning down through the comments under Jess’ article for comedy value alone. The same tedious, uninformed, unscientific, zombie ‘arguments’ about gender balance that are rebutted so well in Inferior (and in Cordelia Fine’s work) are trotted out by rather disgruntled individuals who have a particularly buzzy bee in their bonnet about the natural order of things. I particularly liked this exchange:


I’d really like to hope that JohnJNorris’ comment up there is a pitifully weak attempt at a joke. But given the below-the-line commentary that accompanies virtually any article on gender in science, it’s not against the odds at all that JohnJ is being deathly serious.

“Outrunner’s” riposte is priceless in any case…

[1] OK, most of that’s true. But not the sandals. Definitely not the sandals. I’ve never worn sandals in my life. *shudder* And, to be honest, I’m really not quite certain what a Cultural Marxist is. Or does. But, apparently, academia is absolutely infested with them.

“Think Graham Norton meets the Broom Cupboard. In space.”


It’s not every day you get to sit down and have a chat with someone who hacked their way into space…

…but I had the immense pleasure of doing just that yesterday. Pictured above, very helpfully holding a copy of that book I’ve been (head)banging on about a little of late (see “Other Scribblings” in the sidebar to the right or here if you’re reading on a mobile device), is the powerhouse of science communication — no, let’s make that science entertainment — that is the inimitable Jon Spooner. To whet your appetite, here’s a one minute clip of Jon — and his colleagues, Flight Dynamics Officer Simon Perkins and astronaut Little Jon — in action at the Manchester Science Festival last year. (Jon told me that he and Simon have had a pretty hectic schedule over the last year, having done eight festivals in twelve months).

The quote from a parent included in that video,

It was amazing, brilliantly educational. It brought a tear to my eye.

neatly sums up exactly the reaction that my fourteen year old daughter, Niamh, and I had to Jon’s “How I Hacked My Way Into Space” tour de force at the Blue Dot Festival at Jodrell Bank this weekend. (You’re not getting any spoilers here, however. If you want to know just how Jon hacked his way off our pale blue dot, you’re going to have to go along and experience the adventures of the Unlimited Space Agency for yourself. There’s a list of tour dates here.)


Before Jon’s high octane performance at 2 pm yesterday afternoon, I was delighted to be one of the guests for his Space Shed interview series. The title of the blog post you’re reading is the description Jon gave me yesterday of the Space Shed: “Think Graham Norton meets the Broom Cupboard. In space.” (Those of you who are Irish or British are likely to be fairly familiar with both of those cultural references. For those elsewhere in the world — and since its reboot, Symptoms… has attracted readers from 70 countries — here’s a brief introduction to Graham Norton. Despite his incredibly successful career as a chat show host and presenter, however, this performance remains for me his finest hour:

And here’s The Broom Cupboard.)

Before I reveal just what we nattered about yesterday — and as a convivial, clever and charming host, Jon could certainly give Mr. Norton a run for his money — I guess I should explain what I was doing at Blue Dot in the first place.

…all the way to The ‘Bank

The eagle-eyed Sixty Symbols viewers among you — and I know that at least some of those who read Symptoms… posts have watched a Sixty Symbols video or two — may have noticed that the schedule for the Space Shed also included my colleagues Tony Padilla and Clare Burrage, both of whom have contributed to Brady Haran‘s YouTube channels. (As I write this, Clare is in the middle of her Space Shed interview. If you’re having even an infinitesimal amount of the fun I had yesterday, Clare, you’ll be having a blast!) Tony, Clare, and myself weren’t the only Sixty Symbols people involved: Meghan (Gray) and Becky (Smethurst) were also at Blue Dot. Indeed, it was Meghan who was not only responsible for our invitation to Blue Dot but who communicated with the “powers that be” in terms of sorting out the logistics (including travel) related to not only the Space Shed appearances but a Sixty Symbols panel discussion in the Star Pavillion on Friday evening. More on that soon. But, first, some thanks.

I jumped (over-)enthusiastically at the chance to contribute to Blue Dot because its innovative blend of music and science really presses all my buttons (or, errrm, turns my dials to 11. I’ll get me coat…). That book (y’know the one…over there…sidebar to the right) and this rather noisy ‘math metal’ song  are two examples of my love of music-physics-maths crossover, but there are others, including this rather more sedate approach to merging numbers and music and this discussion of correlations and fluctuations in drum beats. It turns out that Meghan also has a long-standing interest in music-science crossover: as a high school student she wrote a computer program to produce music in the style of Bach. (Mr. Haran, if you’re reading, I, for one, would be really keen to see a video on this…)

I’d like to take this opportunity to thank Meghan publicly and profusely for sorting out the invitation to Blue Dot. (Well, as public as it gets when it comes to the audience for Symptoms… I appreciate you both tuning in again). To say I thoroughly enjoyed myself at the festival would be a massive understatement. In addition to the wonderful atmosphere, the great music, and the incredible range of science, I got to wear one of these “passes”:



As a failed and now-follicularly-challenged musician, this made me ridiculously happy, not least because sitting across the way from Niamh and me at lunch yesterday was Gary Numan. Gary f**king Numan. This guy. An inspiration for so many musicians and bands across a wide range of genres, Numan was playing the Lovell Stage at Blue Dot 2018.)

OK, back to that Sixty Symbols panel I mentioned. Here’s how it looked mid-event…

…and this is how we felt directly afterwards:

The panel was great fun, with the Q&A session (following our five minute presentations) being a real highlight. A thoroughly engaged, and engaging, audience asked us a range of questions on topics including, but certainly not limited to, the science we do, the music we like, the YouTube videos with Brady, and women in science. (There’s a certain contingent online who get very, very cross indeed at even the briefest mention of sexism and related issues. If you’re one of those who feels the red mist descending already, this trigger warning may prove helpful. (Having said that, they tend not to read too deeply so almost certainly won’t have got this far into the post.)) As a dyed-in-the-wool experimentalist and a lowly squalid state physicist, I especially enjoyed the light-hearted spat between Clare and Tony on the current state of string theory towards the end of our session.


My Space Shed interview/Q&A the following day similarly touched on a wide variety of themes, with many perceptive and brilliant questions from both Jon and the audience. (Another big thank you at this point to UNSA’s Flight Commander Alison McIntyre for making sure that the flight was a success and for all of her behind the scenes organisation. Thank you, Alison!)

Jon and I had decided beforehand that we’d give a prize of a free copy of the book — yes, I know, the plugs are getting tedious now. That was the last one. Promise. — to those who asked the best questions. In the end, all eight of those who asked a question got a copy because it was impossible to pick winners. Two that stuck with me were from Evie (aged 7), “Where do the atoms go when there’s an earthquake?” and Oliver, a slightly older (i.e. age > 7) and rather more hirsute PhD student: “If the Schrodinger equation were a riff, what riff would it be?” How much more metal could that question get? None. None more metal.

(By the way, Evie, if you ever read this, I’m so very, very sorry for not concentrating when I wrote on your book so that what I’d written made no sense (because I’d left out a word.) I don’t multi-task well — talking and writing at the same time overtaxes my brain! Thank you for pointing out the mistake to me and giving me the opportunity to fix it. And thanks, of course, for your brilliant question!)

After the Space Shed Q&A, I asked Niamh how it went; did I embarrass her? “No, Dad, you didn’t embarrass me. Well, not entirely.”

What greater accolade can a father expect from his teenage daughter?

“Not entirely embarrassed”.

I’ll take that.