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< Back to Issue 2 Law and Order: Medically Supervised Injecting Centres Keeping people safe from the harms of drug use is an important public health goal, but some question the value of medically supervised injecting centres in improving health and community outcomes. by Caitlin Kane 10 December 2021 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic & Natalie Cierpisz Illustrated by Rachel Ko Medically supervised injecting centres (MSICs) are an exemption from the standard practices of law and order: instead of policing drug users, these facilities allow people to bring illegal drugs to dedicated, clean settings where they can legally inject themselves and receive medical care if required. Essentially, drugs like heroin and ice can be used in a safer environment often integrated with other health and welfare services. These centres aim to improve public health and amenity outcomes, but are criticised for facilitating drug use. Australia’s MSICs have been controversial since their inception. The first local MSIC opened in Kings Cross, Sydney in 2001, following a Vatican intervention to withdraw nuns and the arrest of a Reverend for opening a short-lived unsanctioned injecting facility (1,2). Local businesses and residents feared a nearby “safe haven for drug users” would accelerate rampant and disruptive public drug use and threatened last-minute legal action (3). The centre is still in operation and has now supervised more than one million injections without a single overdose fatality (1,4). Medical director Dr Marianne Jauncey explained how the Kings Cross centre saves lives in a discussion with the ABC this year (5). Yet before Australia’s second MSIC opened in Richmond, Melbourne in 2018, commentators continued to decry the proposition as accepting and passively encouraging drug use. Nationals MP Emma Kealy announced, "It sends the wrong message to our kids and effectively says we've given up on preventing drug use” (6). With consultation ongoing to establish a third Australian MSIC in the Melbourne city centre, it’s valuable to detangle the misconceptions around the effects of MSICs on communities and their value as public health tools. Much controversy around Australia’s MSICs centres on three concerns: the number of overdoses occurring on premises, the attraction of drug addicts to the areas, and the drain on public health resources. Examining the data collected by public health scientists demonstrates that these concerns are unfounded and supports the continued consideration of MSICs as effective public health interventions. WHAT EFFECT DO MSICS HAVE ON OVERDOSES? It’s critical to understand that MSICs are proposed for areas with heavy drug use, particularly use in public settings and causing medical emergencies like overdoses. At the turn of the millennium, the streets of Kings Cross were a major site of public drug use, overdoses, and ambulance callouts (7). In 2000, one spate of thirty-five Sydney overdoses, four fatal, occurred in a single twenty-four hour period (3). At the time, 10% of all drug overdoses in Australia occurred in Kings Cross (3). In response, the Kings Cross MSIC opened in 2001 following decades of mounting evidence in Europe. European drug injection centres had been operating since the 1970s, with growing official support through the 1990s in countries like the Netherlands, Switzerland, and Germany (2). Evaluations reported successful reductions in public nuisance, improved service access, and declining overdose deaths (2). Switzerland demonstrated annual overdose deaths halved in four years and a tenfold reduced chance of hospital admission in MSIC overdoses compared to overdoses on the streets (2,3). Similarly, the Richmond MSIC opened in 2018 as a response to the highest heroin death toll in sixteen years and record ice deaths in 2016, with the major drug market in Richmond considered the “epicentre of Melbourne’s heroin crisis” (8). It could be easy to criticise the overdoses occurring on the MSIC premises, but these overdoses predated the MSICs and prompted their opening after other strategies failed to address the crisis. As public health interventions, MSICs are most effective in areas with high densities of public drug use, like Kings Cross and Richmond, which is why these sites were chosen to house MSICs (7). A systematic review of studies covering a range of MSIC facilities, including Kings Cross, concluded that all facilities had a significant reduction in overdose deaths in their local area (9). Ambulance callouts for overdoses near Kings Cross decreased by 68% within six years of opening (9). In Richmond, emergency medical attendances to drug overdoses near the MSIC have decreased significantly. Only 30 of the 2657 overdoses treated at the MSIC in its first eighteen months led to ambulance attendance and there has been a 25% decrease in naloxone administration, a treatment for opioid overdose, by ambulances in the one kilometre radius of the MSIC (10). The impact of drug overdoses in these areas has been greatly mediated by the presence of the MSICs. In 2017, the Kings Cross MSIC celebrated one million injections with zero fatal overdoses (1). The lack of a single overdose death at these facilities despite the number of overdoses should be considered a mark of commendation (1,5,10,11). DO MSICS ATTRACT DRUG USERS TO THE AREA? A second concern is that MSICs attract drug addicts to the area in which they are situated. However, this misattribution of causality arises because MSICs are purposefully located in areas with pre- existing drug markets. Major drug markets create local hotspots of public injection as many drug users inject immediately to reduce withdrawal and avoid police attention (7). These areas of high public drug use became candidates for the establishment of MSICs because drug users already frequented the area. Before the MSIC opened, over 90% of ambulances attendances for overdoses in Kings Cross were within a 300 metre radius of the proposed MSIC location. The area was chosen for an MSIC because of the existing disruption caused by public drug use and overdose. Improving public amenity, such as decreasing encounters with discarded needles, drug injection and overdose, is one of the most important goals of MSICs (2,11). Despite initial outrage in Kings Cross, support for the centre among local businesses increased to 70% in 2005, and local perceptions were positive (11,12). Monitoring of the area found no increase in drug-related crime, dealing or loitering after the Kings Cross MSIC opened (11). This is also supported by more recent findings in 2017, that alongside improving local amenity and reducing ambulance callouts, the Kings Cross MSIC did not draw dealers and addicts to the area in a ‘honey pot’ effect (6). This was corroborated by a systematic analysis which found no increase in drug-related violence and crime related to MSICs in Sydney and Vancouver across the results of four studies (9). The same review concluded that MSICs do not promote drug use, crime, drug trafficking, or increase new drug users (9). Likewise, demand for the Richmond MSIC was created by the existing Richmond drug market and disruption to the community, with 46 of 49 local stakeholders found to support a proposed MSIC in a 2017 consultation (11). Alongside harm minimisation, one submission highlighted the “significant toll on health workers and members of the local community who have to deal with the aftermath of overdoses and for children to see people in public in such a terrible state” as motivating their support for establishing a Richmond MSIC (11). Since opening, concern that additional people would travel to use the centre was abated by findings that travel distance was a major reason for not attending the MSIC and residential information collected from Richmond MSIC users (10). Regarding public amenity, an evaluation found mixed results in its eighteen months of operation, with reduced sightings of public injections and incidents at the neighbouring school, but decreased perception of safety and community support for the MSIC (10). It remains to be seen how this trend develops with continued operation of the centre. DO MSICS DRAIN PUBLIC HEALTH RESOURCES? While the primary goal of MSICs is to reduce the harms associated with overdose and public drug injection, MSICs have broader public impact through integration with complementary social and medical services. People who inject drugs are subject to associated harms, ranging from increased risks of blood-borne diseases (HIV, HBV, HCV) and psychiatric disorders to homelessness, crime, and prostitution (2,10). This socially marginalised group often lacks adequate access to healthcare, despite the significantly increased risks of harm and death (9). Analysis of the Vancouver MSIC found the streamlined and preventative healthcare provided to drug users was quantifiably more effective and saved both millions of dollars and 920 years of life over 10 years (9). In 2008, an economic review of the Kings Cross MSIC determined that averted health costs alone made significant savings for the government, and the value of prevented deaths would pay for operating costs more than 30 times (13). Furthermore, unprecedented access to drug users can facilitate important research to investigate and validate public health issues and strategies. For example, a 2017 paper analysed the rates and severity of overdoses for illicit and prescription opioids with data from the Sydney MSIC, producing clinically salient research enabled by access to marginalised and vulnerable populations (14). Alongside reductions in ambulance callouts and overdose complications which are instead managed at the centre, MSICs can improve the reach and delivery of health and social services for drug users, including blood-borne disease screening, drug treatment and rehabilitation, and mental health counselling (9,10). Engagement with MSICs and integrated services promoted safer injecting practices, health and social service use, and entry to treatment programs. The overall proportion of MSIC-attending drug users in treatment programs was 93%, compared to 61% of first-time attendees at the facility, demonstrating the improved effectiveness of reaching drug users with healthcare programs (15). Across seven studies on drug user uptake of MSICs, 75% of drug users reported improvements in their behaviours regarding public amenity and safe injection (9). This effect was particularly strong for marginalised and at-risk attendees, like those who were homeless, Indigenous, had previously overdosed, and others with self-identified need (15). MSICs contribute massively to overall public health strategy, through both direct harm reduction and efficiently increasing access to existing services. BEYOND MEDICALLY SUPERVISED INJECTING CENTRES MSICs in Australia and across the world have been successful in achieving their objectives; reducing drug-associated harms and community exposure to public injection and overdose (9,12). The continued controversy around MSICs despite their established and validated success betrays widespread misunderstanding around the nature of addiction, the effective treatment and harm reduction for drug abuse. In 2017, despite the support of three coronial recommendations and the Australian Medical Association for a Richmond MSIC, MP Tim Smith asked, “Since when did we start rewarding people who break the law, since when did drug users become victims, we need to enforce the law" (6,8). Political discourse that distorts the goals of MSICs and distracts from their established efficacy only serves to stagnate evidence-based action and weaken Australia’s response to damaging drug use. While MSICs attract stagnating attention and controversy, public health issues around drug addiction and opioid dependency remain unaddressed (16). In Australia, prescription drug abuse causes ten times more overdose deaths than illicit drug abuse, and prescription opioids provides a pathway to the use of illegal opioids, like heroin and fentanyl (14,16). As seen in the 2017 investigation into the prevalence and consequences of opioid overdoses in the Kings Cross MSIC, prescription opioid injection is a significant form of harmful drug use (14). MSICs are a useful and effective tool to combat drug abuse, but are not intended to solve all drug-pertinent problems; they must be incorporated into broader public health and crime strategies (9). Drug abuse is a seriously complicated problem, so it makes sense to have misconceptions around the impacts of MSICs. Effective drug policy needs to consider MSICs as a component of a broader public health strategy and educate the public about responses to drug abuse. It’s critical for communities and decision-makers to stay informed and choose evidence-based strategies to address the public health and amenity goals around drug use. References: Alcohol and Drug Foundation. ‘Medically Supervised Injecting Centres - Alcohol and Drug Foundation’. Accessed 1 December 2021. https://adf.org.au/insights/medically-supervised-injecting-centres/. Dolan, Kate, Jo Kimber, Craig Fry, John Fitzgerald, David McDonald, and Franz Trautmann. ‘Drug Consumption Facilities in Europe and the Establishment of Supervised Injecting Centres in Australia’. Drug and Alcohol Review 19, no. 3 (2000): 337–46. https://doi.org/10.1080/713659379. Barkham, Patrick. ‘Sydney Gets Safe Haven for Drug Users’. The Guardian, 4 September 2000, sec. World news. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2000/sep/04/patrickbarkham. ‘20th Anniversary of Sydney’s Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Accessed 9 December 2021. https://www.uniting.org/blog-newsroom/newsroom/news-releases/20th-anniversary-of-sydney-s-medically-supervised-injecting-cent. The Kings Cross Supervised Injecting Facility Marks Its 20th Anniversary. ABC News, 2021. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2021-05-06/united-medically-supervised-injecting-centre-20th-anniversary/13332878. Carey, Adam. ‘“People Are Dying”: Trial of Safe Injecting Room Blocked by Andrews Government’. The Age, 7 September 2017. https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/people-are-dying-trial-of-safe-injecting-room-blocked-by-andrews-government-20170907-gycmiu.html. Uniting. ‘History of the Uniting Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Accessed 9 December 2021. https://www.uniting.org/community-impact/uniting-medically-supervised-injecting-centre--msic/history-of-uniting-msic. Willingham, Richard. ‘Renewed Calls for Safe Injecting Room as Victoria’s Heroin Death Toll Reaches 16-Year High.’ ABC News, 27 October 2017. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-10-27/spike-in-heroin-deaths-in-victoria-safe-injecting-rooms/9092660. Potier, Chloé, Vincent Laprévote, Françoise Dubois-Arber, Olivier Cottencin, and Benjamin Rolland. ‘Supervised Injection Services: What Has Been Demonstrated? A Systematic Literature Review’. Drug and Alcohol Dependence 145 (1 December 2014): 48–68. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2014.10.012. Department of Health. Victoria, Australia. ‘Medically Supervised Injecting Room Trial - Review Panel Full Report’. State Government of Victoria, Australia, 25 June 2020. http://www.health.vic.gov.au/publications/medically-supervised-injecting-room-trial-review-panel-full-report. Victoria, Parliament, Legislative Council, and Legal and Social Issues Committee. Inquiry into the Drugs, Poisons and Controlled Substances Amendment (Pilot Medically Supervised Injecting Centre) Bill 2017. East Melbourne, Vic: Victorian Government Printer, 2017. Salmon, Allison M., Hla-Hla Thein, Jo Kimber, John M. Kaldor, and Lisa Maher. ‘Five Years on: What Are the Community Perceptions of Drug-Related Public Amenity Following the Establishment of the Sydney Medically Supervised Injecting Centre?’ International Journal of Drug Policy 18, no. 1 (1 January 2007): 46–53. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugpo.2006.11.010. SAHA. ‘NSW Health Economic Evaluation of the Medically Supervised Injection Centre at Kings Cross (MSIC)’, August 2008. https://www.uniting.org/content/dam/uniting/documents/community-impact/uniting-msic/MSIC-Final-Report-26-9-08-Saha.pdf. Roxburgh, Amanda, Shane Darke, Allison M. Salmon, Timothy Dobbins, and Marianne Jauncey. ‘Frequency and Severity of Non-Fatal Opioid Overdoses among Clients Attending the Sydney Medically Supervised Injecting Centre’. Drug and Alcohol Dependence 176 (1 July 2017): 126–32. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.drugalcdep.2017.02.027. Belackova, Vendula, Edmund Silins, Allison M. Salmon, Marianne Jauncey, and Carolyn A. Day. ‘“Beyond Safer Injecting”—Health and Social Needs and Acceptance of Support among Clients of a Supervised Injecting Facility’. International Journal of Environmental Research and Public Health 16, no. 11 (January 2019): 2032. https://doi.org/10.3390/ijerph16112032. Fitzgerald, Bridget. ‘Drug Overdoses Killed More than 2,000 Australians for the Fifth Consecutive Year, Report Finds’. ABC News, 31 August 2020. https://www.abc.net.au/news/2020-08-31/more-than-2000-australians-lost-their-lives-due-to-overdose-2018/12612058. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 8 Terror Birds: The Discovery of Prolific Hunters by Jason Chien 3 June 2025 Edited by Luci Ackland Illustrated by Max Yang It began in the 1880s with a toothless jaw. And then some leg and hip bones and a vertebra were found. The leg bones, comparable in size to those of African ostriches, also bore similarities to fossils of the unrelated, giant, flightless Gastornis birds of Europe. Across the 1880s and 1890s, these discoveries slowly led archaeologists to realise they were dealing with a hitherto unknown group of giant, fearsome birds (1). With more complete fossil specimens subsequently discovered and clues provided by their unique morphologies, it did not take long for paleontologists to realise that all members of the “terror birds”, or Phorusrhacids, were carnivores, and that some were apex predators. Through isotopic dating of sediments in which terror bird fossils were found, paleontologists concluded that this taxonomic family existed from 43 million years ago (mya) – possibly even earlier – until their extinction 100,000 years ago (although no single species of Phorusrhacids survived this long) (2,3). Various fossils have since been found in South America and deemed to belong to Phorusrhacids species. Though most fossils have been found in Argentina, they have also been found in Brazil, Uruguay, Chile, Bolivia, Peru, the Southern United States and most recently, in Colombia. Throughout South America, there are various more fossils currently being discovered, some of which are being assigned to new species. At the moment, there are at least 18 characterised species, with some fossil-described species in contention of belonging to Phorusrhacids (4). Although size differed between species, there are morphological features common to all Phorusrhacids. Species such as Kelenken guillermoi , Phorusrhacos longissimus , and a few individuals of the North American Titanis walleri were giants at least 2 meters tall, weighing more than 100kg. Meanwhile, the shorter North American Titanis walleri was 1.4 to 1.9m in height and weighed an impressive 150kg (5,6). At the other extreme, the comparatively tiny Psilopterus bachmanni weighed only 4.5kg (7)! Smaller Phorusrhacids preyed on small vertebrates and invertebrates, with some species perhaps capable of short flight durations, filling a different predator niche than their larger counterparts (7). Though the prehistoric South American environment, unlike today's, was generally grasslands and woodlands, different Phorusrhacids species lived in distinct habitats. These differences include variation in aridity, as well as differences in the large and small prey present in different localities (8). Furthermore, Earth’s overall climate also varied during the more than 40 million years in which terror birds were present, such that the habitats of different terror bird species living in different periods of geologic time also differed. Reconstruction of some specifics of each locality’s prehistoric environment is not always possible (9). Lastly, the earliest and latest discovered fossils of each species indicate the period during which a species survived, but the boundary at which a species becomes distinctly different from an ancestral species is not always clear (10). Here are some terror birds whose habitats are better understood: Phorusrhacos longissimus : an environment with water bodies and a mix of open and enclosed areas. For instance, the first discovered terror bird fossils originated from longissimus individuals living in what was later reconstructed to be temperate forests and bushlands. This bird survived during parts of the Miocene period (23 mya to 5 mya) (8,10) Titanis Walleri : Tropical grasslands with springs, similar to today’s Florida. This species lived in a more unique environment than other terror birds, from 5 mya to 1.8 mya (5,6) But what did all the terror birds, large and small, have in common regarding how they hunted? From the structure of the terror birds’ legs, feet and hips, a paleontologist can infer features that suggest some terror birds were fast runners (11), or otherwise had limbs adapted for running. Despite natural uncertainties associated with paleontology, there is some headway into the running speeds of some terror bird species. For instance, the running speed of the 1m tall, 45kg Patagornis marshi was estimated to be 50 km/h (12,13), more than enough to chase down their prey. Once the prey was chased down, some terror birds would use their powerful legs to kick and incapacitate it, as suggested by features indicating strength in the bones of some species (14). Furthermore, some terror bird species possessed sharp claws, which are thought to have been used to stab prey (14). Though not all terror birds – especially the smaller species – were fast runners, all terror birds used their beaks when hunting, relying on beak strikes rather than the biting force used by many other birds. Their long necks were able to be flexed far backwards and forwards, allowing them to frontally strike prey repeatedly and powerfully with their beaks. Unlike that of many other birds, their ancestors and even their closest living relatives (the seriemas), the skull structure of most terror bird species is such that there is no moveable hinge between the upper beak and the skull due to the fusion of some bones in that region. This adaptation allows the skulls of Phorusrhacids to specifically resist loads from striking prey without suffering damage – though only if the strikes are precise (15). Other interesting features of the terror birds include gaze stabilisation and their hearing capacity. Based on their inner ear anatomies, the terror birds had the capacity for fast head movements while maintaining sight on their prey, evidencing their agility. Further evidence from the inner ear anatomies indicate the enhanced ability of the terror birds to hear low frequency sounds. Low frequency sound waves can travel a longer distance and are less affected by obstacles that absorb and scatter sound, allowing the terror birds to hear prey far out of sight. If terror birds were capable of producing low frequency sound as well, this would have enabled them to communicate from long distances apart (11). If one were to picture the heterogeneity of the terror bird species, they would probably imagine a predator in the act of hunting, or doing something else. In periods of geologic time with the greatest terror bird diversity, you may even be able to picture individuals of two different terror bird species, though you wouldn’t see two species of apex predator terror birds together (10). However, if you were to imagine beyond the bird, you would wonder how the flora, the other animals present, the climate, and many more all played a role in the story of the terror birds. Tracing the lineages of the Phorusrhacids backwards, one would reach a bird capable of flight. The characteristic of complete flightlessness arose specifically in large Phorusrhacids species, which were apex predators that consumed large mammals (10). The extinction of dinosaurs, and the absence of large placental carnivores in South America from 65 mya to 3 mya, made the apex predator niche unfilled (16). Subsequently, they started to be filled by the ancestors of large Phorusrhacids. But with diverse fauna, why did terror birds become one of the apex predators, and not many other animal groups, for instance the South American marsupial mammals? It is a persistent evolutionary mystery in perhaps all of paleontology, with many possible explanations but few, if any, ways to test them (17). Two hypotheses have been proposed to explain the demise of the terror birds: the encroachment of North American fauna into South America beginning 9 mya; and the episode of global cooling that occurred 3 mya. Due to continental drift, the North and South American continents were drifting towards each other, with a land bridge formed by 3 mya, though the movement of some groups of animals across the gap began much earlier. Known as the Great American biotic exchange, North American placental carnivores, some of them large predators, moved into South America and rapidly diversified (9). The former hypothesis suggests that competition with these predators drove the terror birds to extinction. In the latter hypothesis, rapid cooling not only affected the terror birds, but also affected the ecosystems where the terror birds lived (9). Despite the lack of direct evidence that is able to resolve this uncertainty, the contingent belief is that the latter hypothesis is more likely to be true and that the encroachment of North American fauna in the former hypothesis had a small to none effect on the extinction of the terror birds (9,12). Attached to every bone and bone fragment is a history of discovery, of being dated, of measurement, of cataloging and sometimes, of reexamination. Every bone was once a part of the organism, each with the potential to yield valuable information. As a testament to how far science has come since the early days of fossil hunting, we now have a much larger cache of fossils to make comparisons to, we have the tools to model an organism’s mass and some of its biomechanics based on fossilised bones, and we even have the means to look at the bone structures under a light or electron microscope to infer some of an organism’s probable behavioural characteristics. The fact that we figured out this much about the birds is astounding. Fossils form only under specific conditions – an organism has to be buried before there is a chance of it being eaten and then covered with sediments in conditions where microorganisms that decompose the body cannot survive (such as anoxic environments). Scientists estimate that the fossil record contains less than 0.1% of all species that have ever lived (18)! Furthermore, it is common ecological knowledge that for every ecosystem, the population of apex predators is small and are less likely to be preserved in the fossil record. Many mysteries, ranging from their colours to their various behaviour, remain. Perhaps these mysteries are what deepen our curiosity and account for our fascination with these organisms. Still, we are truly fortunate to be able to infer so much from the terror birds’ unique morphology and get to know of them and their stories, beyond just what we imagine them to be. References Buffetaut, E. Who discovered the Phorusrhacidae? An episode in the history of avian palaeontology. In: Göhlich UB, Kroh A, editors. Proceedings of the 8th International Meeting Society of Avian Paleontology and Evolution; 2013 Dec 10; Naturhistorisches Museum Wien. Vienna (AT): Naturhistorisches Museum Wien, 2013 [cited 2025 May 12.]. p.123-134. Available from: https://verlag.nhm-wien.ac.at/buecher/2013_SAPE_Proceedings/10_Buffetaut.pdf Jones W, Rinderknecht A, Alvarenga H, Montenegro F, Ubilla M. The last terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae): new evidence from the late Pleistocene of Uruguay. PalZ [Internet]. 2018 Jun [cited 2025 May 12];92(2):365–72. Available from: http://link.springer.com/10.1007/s12542-017-0388-y Acosta Hospitaleche C, Jones W. Insights on the oldest terror bird (Aves, Phorusrhacidae) from the Eocene of Argentina. Historical Biology [Internet]. 2025 Feb [cited 2025 May 12];37(2):391–9. Available from: https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/08912963.2024.2304592 Degrange FJ, Cooke SB, Ortiz‐Pabon LG, Pelegrin JS, Perdomo CA, Salas‐Gismondi R, et al. A gigantic new terror bird (Cariamiformes, Phorusrhacidae) from middle Miocene tropical environments of La Venta in northern South America. Papers in Palaeontology [Internet]. 2024 Nov [cited 2025 May 12];10(6):e1601. Available from: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/spp2.1601 Gould GC, Quitmyer IR. Titanis walleri : bones of contention. Bull Fla Mus Nat Hist. 2005 [cited 2025 May 12]. 45(4):201-229. Available from https://flmnhbulletin.com/index.php/flmnh/article/download/flmnh-vol45-no4-pp201-230/vol45-no4/1140 Baskin JA. The giant flightless bird Titanis walleri (Aves: Phorusrhacidae) from the Pleistocene coastal plain of south Texas. Journal of Vertebrate Paleontology [Internet]. 1995 Dec 27 [cited 2025 May 12];15(4):842–4. Available from: http://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1080/02724634.1995.10011266 Degrange FJ, Noriega JI, Areta JI. Diversity and paleobiology of the Santacrucian birds. In: Bargo MS, Kay RF, Vizcaíno SF, editors. Early Miocene Paleobiology in Patagonia: High-Latitude Paleocommunities of the Santa Cruz Formation [Internet]. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; 2012 [cited 2025 May 13]. p. 138–55. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9780511667381.010 Vizcaíno SF, Bargo MS, Kay RF, Fariña RA, Di Giacomo M, Perry JMG, et al. A baseline paleoecological study for the Santa Cruz formation (Late–early miocene) at the Atlantic coast of Patagonia, Argentina. Palaeogeography, Palaeoclimatology, Palaeoecology [Internet]. 2010 Jun [cited 2025 May 13];292(3–4):507–19. Available from: http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.palaeo.2010.04.022 Prevosti FJ, Romano CO, Forasiepi AM, Hemming S, Bonini R, Candela AM, et al. New radiometric 40Ar–39Ar dates and faunistic analyses refine evolutionary dynamics of Neogene vertebrate assemblages in southern South America. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2021 May 10 [cited 2025 Jun 1];11(1):9830. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-021-89135-1 LaBarge TW, Gardner JD, Organ CL. The evolution and ecology of gigantism in terror birds (Aves, Phorusrhacidae). Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2024 Apr 30 [cited 2025 May 13];291(2021):20240235. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2024.0235 Degrange FJ. Research: The “Terror Bird:” Paleobiology of a Fierce Bird. 2015. Accessed May 13, 2025. https://www.myfossil.org/research-the-terror-bird-paleobiology-of-a-fierce-bird/ Marsà JAG, Agnolín FL, Angst D, Buffetaut E. Paleohistological analysis of “terror birds” (Phorusrhacidae, Brontornithidae): Paleobiological Inferences. Diversity (14242818) [Internet]. 2025 Mar 1 [cited 2025 May 12];17(3):153. Available from: https://doi.org/10.3390/d17030153 Blanco RE, Jones WW. Terror birds on the run: a mechanical model to estimate its maximum running speed. Proc R Soc B [Internet]. 2005 Sep 7 [cited 2025 May 13];272(1574):1769–73. Available from: https://royalsocietypublishing.org/doi/10.1098/rspb.2005.3133 Melchor RN, Feola SF, Cardonatto MC, Espinoza N, Rojas-Manriquez MA, Herazo L. First terror bird footprints reveal functionally didactyl posture. Sci Rep [Internet]. 2023 Sep 30 [cited 2025 Jun 1];13(1):16474. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-023-43771-x Degrange FJ, Tambussi CP, Moreno K, Witmer LM, Wroe S. Mechanical analysis of feeding behavior in the extinct “terror bird” Andalgalornis steulleti (Gruiformes: Phorusrhacidae). Turvey ST, editor. PLoS ONE [Internet]. 2010 Aug 18 [cited 2025 Jun 1];5(8):e11856. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1371/journal.pone.0011856 Marshall LG. Scientific American. 1994 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. The terror birds of south america. Available from: https://doi.org/10.1038/scientificamerican0294-90 Olson ME, Arroyo-Santos A. How to study adaptation(And why to do it that way). The Quarterly Review of Biology [Internet]. 2015 Jun [cited 2025 Jun 1];90(2):167–91. Available from: https://www.journals.uchicago.edu/doi/10.1086/681438 How can I become a fossil? [Internet]. 2018 [cited 2025 Jun 1]. Available from: https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20180215-how-does-fossilisation-happen Previous article Next article Enigma back to

By Gavin Choong < Back to Issue 3 Love and Aliens By Gavin Choong 10 September 2022 Edited by Khoa-Anh Tran and Niesha Baker Illustrated by Ravon Chew Next Neither Daniel Love nor Brendan Thoms were Australian citizens, but they were both recognised as First Nations Australians by law. Under legislation, “aliens” who commit crimes with a sentence of over a year may be removed from the country. (1) Due to their non-citizenship, the then Minister for Home Affairs Peter Dutton classified these men as aliens and tried to deport them after they were convicted of serious crimes. This attempt failed. The High Court of Australia ruled, in the hotly contested landmark decision of Love v Commonwealth, that Indigenous Australians could not be considered aliens under Australian law because of the “spiritual connection” they hold with the lands and waters of the country we live in. (1) Effectively, this barred the deportation of Love and Thoms but also sent astronomical ripples through the fabric of our nation’s legal framework. This year, major challenges to the decision made in Love v Commonwealth have arisen. Of the arguments put forward, some protest the judicial activism of the judges – that is, them going above and beyond written law to produce a fairer ruling. For example, many contend the term spiritual connection bears no actual legal meaning. However, with a history dating back upwards of seventy-thousand years, two hundred and fifty languages and eight hundred dialects, complex systems of governance, deeply vested religious and spiritual beliefs, and a profound understanding of land, it would be ignorant to argue this rich culture should simply be disregarded in the face of the law. This article adopts a scientific lens and delves into an empirical basis for the spiritual connection Aboriginal Australians share with country, traversing from Dreamtime to spacetime and beyond. THE DREAMING: FROM NOTHING, EVERYTHING From nothing came everything. Nearly fourteen billion years ago, a zero-volume singularity held, tightly, all the energy, space, and time from our current universe. In the moment of creation, temperature and average energies were so extreme all four fundamental forces which shape the universe, as we know it, acted as one. Cosmological inflation followed, allowing for exponential expansion and rapid cooling. Within a picosecond, the four fundamental forces of nature – gravity, electromagnetism, weak interactions, and strong interactions – emerged independently. These forces interacted with matter, resulting in the formation of elementary particles now coined quarks, hadrons, and leptons. For twenty more minutes, elementary particles coupled to form subatomic particles (protons, neutrons) which in turn underwent nuclear fusion to create simple early atoms such as hydrogen and helium. From nothing, came everything. In an eternal present, where there had once been flat and barren ground, Ancestral and Creator spirits emerged from land, sea, and sky to roam the Earth. As they moved, man and nature – mountains, animals, plants, and rivers – were birthed into existence. Once these spirits had finished, instead of disappearing, they transformed into the world they had created, existing in sacred sites such as the night sky, monolithic rocks, and ancient trees. The Dreaming is a First Nations peoples’ understanding of the world and its creation. Importantly, it is an event which cannot be fixed in time – “it was, and is, everywhen,” continuing even today. Countless retellings have caused Dreamtime tales to diverge slightly, leading communities of Aboriginal Australians to identify with different variations of similar stories. (2) These fables refer to natural worldly features and sacred sites, whilst also incorporating favourable values such as patience, humility, and compassion. An example is the tale of the Karatgurk, told by the Wurundjeri people of the Kulin nation, about seven sisters representing what we now consider as the Pleiades star constellation. (3) The Karatgurk These seven sisters once lived by the Yarra River, where Melbourne now stands. They alone possessed the secret of fire, carrying live coals at the end of their digging sticks. (Crow ("trickster, cultural hero, and [another] ancestral being") called the sisters over claiming he had discovered tasty ant larvae. (3) The women began scouring, only to find viscious snakes underneath the dirt which they beat using their digging sticks. As they did so, the live coals flew off and were stolen by Crow who brought fire to mankind. The Karatgurk sisters were swept into the sky, with their glowing fire sticks forming the Pleiades star cluster. In theory, the extreme physical reactions occurring minutes after the Big Bang, paired with hyper-rapid cosmic inflation, should have resulted in a completely homogeneous universe with an even distribution of all existing matter and energy. Cosmological perturbation theory explains, however, that micro-fluctuations in material properties create gravitational wells resulting in the random grouping of matter. These aggregations formed the first stars, quasars, galaxies, and clusters throughout the next billion years. It took, however, another ten billion years for the solar system to form. Similar to Saturn’s planetary rings, the early Sun had its own rotating, circumstellar disc composed of dust, gas, and debris. According to the nebular hypothesis, over millions of years, enough particulates coagulated within the Sun’s spinning disc to form small, primordial planets. Early Earth was a hellish fire-scape as a result of constant meteoric bombardment and extreme volcanic activity. The occasional icy asteroids which collided with Earth deposited large amounts of water, vaporising upon contact – as our planet began to cool, these gaseous deposits condensed into oceans, and molten rock solidified into land mass. In the blink of an eye, early traces of modern humans fluttered into existence at the African Somali Peninsula. They were a nomadic people, travelling westwards and then north through modern day Egypt and into the Middle East. Ancestral Indigenous Australians were amongst the first humans to migrate out of Africa some 62,000 to 75,000 years ago. While other groups travelled in different directions filling up Asia, Europe and the Americas, ancestral Indigenous Australians took advantage of drastically lower sea levels during that time to travel south, as, back then, mainland Australia, Tasmania, and Papua New Guinea formed a single land mass (Sahul) while South-East Asia formed another (Sunda). In spite of this, the wanderers still had to possess the requisite sea-faring skills to traverse almost ninety kilometres of ocean. When the last ice age ended 10,000 years ago, rising waters from melting ice caps covered many of the terrestrial bridges early humans had once journeyed over. This severing allowed Indigenous Australians to foster culture and tradition in their very own passage of time, uninterrupted and independent until a British fleet of eleven ships approached Botany Bay thousands of years later. Significant parts of Australia’s coast were also submerged due to ice age flooding. As coastal Indigenous Australians observed this phenomenon, they recognised its significance through their tales. The Gimuy Walubara Yidinji, traditional custodians of Cairns and the surrounding district, are one of the many groups which reference coastal flooding in their geomythology. Gunya and the Sacred Fish Gunyah, who had lived on Fitzroy Island, went out to hunt for fish one day. Spotting a glimmer in the water, he plunged a spear towards it only to find he had attacked the sacred black stingray. The stingray beat its wing-like fins, causing a great, unending storm. Gunyah fled from the rapidly rising sea and managed to find refuge in a clan living on the cliffs of Cairns. Together, they heated huge rocks in a fire and threw them far into the sea. The pacific was once again pacified, and the Great Barrier Reef created. Isaac Newton proposed, in Principia Mathematica, that the strength of the force of gravity between two celestial bodies would be proportional to both of their masses. At the beginning of the twentieth century, Albert Einstein refined this concept with the theories of Special and General Relativity. His mathematical models suggested time and space were woven into a four-dimensional canvas of spacetime, and the presence of massive objects such as black holes and stars created gravitational wells which distorted spacetime. Within these distortions, bodies closer to large masses would conceive time and space differently than those further away. This unique phenomenon, for example, means astronauts living onboard the International Space Station age fractionally slower relative to us grounded on Earth. Einstein was also able to find that as the velocity of any given body increased to that near the speed of light, it would gain an almost-infinite mass and experience a drastically slowed perception of time relative to their surroundings. These once inconceivable findings had monumental implications in the sphere of theoretical physics, with two examples below. (4, 5) Dark Matter ‘Visible’, baryonic matter humanity is familiar with makes up less than a fifth of the known universe, with a hypothetical ‘dark’, non-baryonic matter comprising the rest. Dark matter lies between and within galaxies, driving baryonic matter to aggregate, forming stars and galaxies. As it cannot be detected using electromagnetic radiation, gravitational lensing provides the strongest proof of its existence. Gravitational lensing occurs when there is an interfering body between us, here on Earth, and a given target. As per Einstein’s relativity, the interfering body has mass which will bend space and therefore distort the image we receive of the target. There exists a mathematically proportional relationship between mass and distortion – the more massive an interfering body, the greater the distortion. Scientists performed calculations but found that the levels of distortion they observed correlated to masses much greater than that of the interfering body. Dark matter accounts for this invisible and undetectable missing mass. String Theory At its core, quantum physics deals with interactions at the atomic and subatomic level. This body of work has borne unusual findings – including that light can act both as a particle and wave, that we may never identify a particle’s position and momentum simultaneously with complete certainty, and that the physical properties of distant entangled particles can fundamentally be linked. On paper, however, there has been great difficulty reconciling quantum physics with relativity theory, as the former deals with interactions which occur in “jumps…with probabilistic rather than definite outcomes”. (4) String theory, however, seeks to settle this tension by proposing the universe is comprised of one-dimensional vibrating strings interacting with one another. This theoretical framework has already bore fascinating fruit – it has been hypothesised that the universe has ten dimensions (nine spatial, one temporal) and during the Big Bang, a “symmetry-breaking event” caused three spatial dimensions to break from the others resulting in an observable three-dimensional universe. (5) On 21 September 1922, astronomers in Goondiwindi, Queensland, used a total solar eclipse to successfully test and prove Einstein’s theory of relativity. Aboriginal Australians present believed they were “trying to catch the Sun in a net”. (6) Western academics were far from the only ones who sought to explain natural phenomena. From the ancient Egyptians to Japanese Shintoists and South American Incas, many civilisations of the past revered the Sun and Moon, having been enthralled by the two celestial bodies. Indigenous Australians were one such people, wanting to understand why the sun rose and set, how moon cycles and ocean tides were related, and what exactly were the rare solar and lunar eclipses. Such occurrences had a mystical property about them, reflected in a rich collection of traditional tales which looked to illuminate these astronomical observations. (7) Walu the Sun-woman Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, Walu lights a small fire every morning to mark that dawn has arrived. She paints herself with red and yellow pigment with some spilling onto the clouds to create sunrise. Walu lights a bark torch and carries it across the sky from East to West, creating daylight. Upon completing her journey, she extinguishes her torch and travels underground back to the morning camp in the East. While doing so, she provides warmth and fertility to the very Earth surrounding her. Ngalindi the Moon-man Told by the Yolngu people of Arnhem Land, “water fill[s] Ngalindi as he rises, becoming full at high tide”. (6) When full, he becomes gluttonous and decides to kill his sons because they refuse to share their food with him. His wives seek vengeance by chopping off his limbs, causing water to drain out. This is reflected by a waning moon and ebb in the tides. Eventually, Ngalindi dies for three days (New Moon) before rising once again (waxing Moon). Bahloo and Yhi Told often by the Kamilaroi people of northern New South Wales, Yhi (Sun-woman) falls in love with Bahloo (Moon-man) and tries to pursue him across the sky. However, he has no interest in Yhi and refuses her advances. Sometimes, Yhi eclipses Bahloo and tries to kill him in a fit of jealously, but the spirits holding up the sky intervene allowing Bahloo to escape. In 1788, British colonists prescribed the fictitious doctrine of terra nullius which treated land occupied by Indigenous peoples as “territory belonging to no-one,” susceptible to colonisation. (8) It is apparent, however, that Indigenous Australians did and still do belong, having a greater, more unique, and nuanced relationship to our lands and waters than we can ever hope to have. This article shows that as detailed and prescriptive our modern scientific understanding is, First Nations peoples will have an equally if not richer perspective, woven through their stories, languages, and practices. To argue that the spiritual connection Indigenous people share with country is not recognised by law would be wilfully making the same mistake our early settlers made two and a half centuries ago. It would be allowing the continuance of intergenerational trauma and suppression. For those reasons, despite the assertive legal challenges being brought against Love v Commonwealth, its judgement must be upheld. References 1. Love v Commonwealth; Thoms v Commonwealth [2020] HCA 3. 2. Stanner WE. The Dreaming & other essays. Melbourne (AU): Black Inc.; 2011. 3. Creation Stories [Internet]. Victoria: Taungurung Lands & Waters Council [cited 2022 Apr. Available from: https://taungurung.com.au/creation-stories/ 4. Powell CS. Relativity versus quantum mechanics: the battle of the universe [Internet]. The Guardian; 2015 Nov 4 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/news/2015/nov/04/relativity-quantum-mechanics-universe-physicists 5. Wolchover N. String theorists simulate the Big Bang [Internet]. Live Science; 2011 Dec 14 [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://www.livescience.com/17454-string-theory-big-bang.html 6. Hamacher DW. On the astronomical knowledge and traditions of Aboriginal Australians [thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy]. [Sydney]: Macquarie University; 2011. 139 p. 7. Mathematics, moon phases, and tides [Internet]. Melbourne: University of Melbourne [cited 2022 Apr 17]. Available from: https://indigenousknowledge.unimelb.edu.au/curriculum/resources/mathematics,-moon-phases,-and-tides 8. Mabo v Queensland (No 2) [1992] HCA 23. Previous article Next article alien back to

< Back to Issue 6 Everything, Everywhere, All at Once: The Art of Decomposition by Arwen Nguyen-Ngo 28 May 2024 Edited by Subham Priya Illustrated by Jessica Walton From a single point in time, to a burst of colour and light, our universe came along into existence (The National Academy of Sciences, 2022). Within the multitude of galaxies and stars sprinkled across the universe, our little planet sits inside the solar system within the Milky Way. Like the way the universe came from a singularity, we were created from a singular cell. Over time, this cell divided and divided until we became these complex beings filled with different flavours of cells and the elements that comprise them. We are ever growing, just as the universe is ever expanding (Harvey, A., & Choi, C. Q., 2022). Though the fate of our universe is still a mystery, our fate is a little less mystical and thought-provoking – but that doesn’t make it any less interesting. Our less mystical yet fascinating fate begins with decomposition. Decomposition is the process in which dead tissue is broken down and converted into simpler forms. Large scavengers, such as vultures, foxes and crows, eat chunks of the corpse using it as a source of energy (Trees for Life, 2024). When these scavengers excrete waste — which is certainly not a pretty sight — their dung attracts smaller organisms like dung beetles. Little creepy crawlies — beetles, maggots and earthworms — all come along to the corpse, munching on its bits and pieces. They even lay their eggs in the openings of the corpse like the eyes, nose and mouth, an even LESSER pretty sight! If we zoom in further, we see microscopic bugs grow upon this dead body and take up nutrients. These bacteria then proceed with anaerobic decomposition, which occurs in the absence of oxygen. This produces gases like methane and carbon dioxide, causing the corpse to swell – the reason why dead bodies smell so bad (Trees for Life, 2024). After all that decaying, eventually, all that will remain of the carcass would be the cartilage, skin and bone, which a range of flies, beetles and parasites take advantage of (Trees for Life, 2024). Small critters such as mice and voles may come along, gnawing on the bone for calcium. How else are such little creatures supposed to get strong bones? Decomposition of dead flora is slightly different than the process for animals. For plant decomposition, fungi are the key players. When the tree leaves die and fall to the ground, they form a thick layer on the soil surface along with other dead plants, termed the litter layer (Trees for Life, 2024). Fungi have a body structure of white thread-like filaments called the hyphae, which resemble the white strings of floss. These white fungal floss take over the litter layer and consume nutrients whilst breaking down the litter layer. Unlike the decomposition of an animal, the decomposition process for plants is odourless. Phew! Over time, little wriggly earthworms begin to take control of breakdown. We use earthworms in our compost bins because they are great decomposers for dead plants and make organic fertiliser for our gardens. Whether an animal or a plant, decomposition takes each and every atom, from the carbon to the sodium atoms and recycles them to be used to create something new. It may be daunting from a human perspective to think that after all we’ve lived for, we would only be broken down and that the littlest bits of us, recycled. As our body takes its final breath, the brain fires the last of its neurons flooding our mind with bursts of colour, the way different elements cause the explosion of colours in fireworks lighting up the night sky. As the body decomposes, slowly each molecule of our body returns to the Earth, allowing for new life to take place. A sapling to sprout out from the depths of the soil. We are carried through the life of a new being; perhaps a tree, the grass or the flowers. Once again each molecule and atom in that being will return to the Earth like clockwork. And perhaps, return to the universe, a part of little sparkles that litter the night sky. References Harvey, A., & Choi, C. Q. (2022). Our expanding universe: Age, history & other facts . https://www.space.com/52-the-expanding-universe-from-the-big-bang-to-today.html Trees for Life. (2024). Decomposition and decay . https://treesforlife.org.uk/into-the-forest/habitats-and-ecology/ecology/decomposition-and-decay/#:~:text=Decomposition%20is%20the%20first%20 The National Academy of Sciences. (2022). How did the universe begin? How will it end? https://thesciencebehindit.org/how-did-the-universe-begin-how-will-it-end/#:~:text=The%20Big%20Bang%20theory%20says,in%20an%20already%20existing%20spac e Previous article Next article Elemental back to

< Back to Issue 2 Spirituality and Science Science is limited by the philosophies which govern it. Common thinking is that science is a rigid, cold and largely academic field which sneers at the domain of spirituality. I posit that one must move beyond this point of view in order to do good science, and to find the true aims and values of the discipline. by Hamish Payne 10 December 2021 Edited by Irene Yonsuh Lee & Khoa-Anh Tran Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen When I was fifteen, I thought that I could thwart my English teacher. He had given us homework that was simple enough; discuss with our families whether true altruism exists. I did not have this discussion with my household but instead hosted the debate in my head, coming to a measured conclusion. However, the privacy of my argumentation showed the next day when my teacher asked me to share. He immediately suggested that I had only been thinking by myself and had not welcomed others into my discussion. This is not my most interesting story, but it did teach me something important: every thought that I have had contains traces of me. Even when I am fiercely debating contrary viewpoints on a subject, even when I am having my most dissonant thoughts, it is my own voice against which I argue. Whenever I have drawn my pen across the page, I have been leaving my fingerprints in the ink. At the time, these traces of me made me very uncomfortable. I have always heard that the beauty in science is that it does not matter if it is considered in isolation or in consultation with others; its facts and its theorems are invariant. This vision of science as a haven for unchanging logic was popularised by Descartes. For the cartesian, the body is split from nature, allowing one to consider the latter more sterilely. But the mind is also split from the body, and our talents, ambitions and passions are split apart in our minds. This thinking for centuries has spurred enormous strides forward in physical technology and has made humanity feel in control of our environment largely because the cartesian divide heralds natural determinism wherein each phenomenon has a direct and exploitable cause[1]. However, there is no room for individual expression in the Cartesian framework – no place for perception, experience, or spirituality. Though my retelling is likely apocryphal, the story of Galileo serves in my mind as a symbol of this divide. From the instant Galileo sought to place the sun at the centre of our solar system, he toppled the heavens and was thus persecuted by the purveyors of spirituality. The persecution of both the scientist and his heliocentric principle barred faith and belief from the scientific process and hence placed reason and logic at its centre. Yet it should not be forgotten that the clergy of the Roman Inquisition paid Galileo in kind and forbad the scientist a spirit. But what are the consequences of taking such a divided view of nature? When I hear people talk about scientists today, they treat the scientist not as someone who lives but as someone who develops rules about life. Scientists must never strive for innate beauty, but for inert truth, guided by cold logic – even Oscar Wilde wrote that “the advantage of science is that it is emotionless”[2]. As a continuation of Galileo being branded apostate, the scientist has been stripped of the right to ambiguity in his explanations, and uncertainty in his world view. If science is not complete, it is deemed a failure. But this is ludicrous. Any scientist must know and accept that the cartesian split neglects certain aspects of the world – those properties of a system which emerge only when all its parts are combined. Moreover, nature still eludes science on a very deep level. For example, there is still no widely accepted philosophical explanation of quantum mechanics, no ability to predict the chaotic flow of a surging river, no profound understanding of the synchronisation of heart cells. Science is so woefully incomplete and incapable of dealing with the sheer scale of disorder in the world that most real-world systems must undergo several fundamental simplifications to be modelled, lest they take years to understand. And when things are cut apart, it becomes even more difficult to stitch them back into the complete picture. Then what remains of the aims of science if it is only an imitation of nature – a painting with no colours, shadows on the wall? When I ask myself this question, I find Feynman’s words echo back in my head: doing science is no more than thinking about “the inconceivable nature of nature”[3]. Science seeks to connect us with nature. It is not about disassembling it and organising it, splitting it into more and more isolated pieces, but about marvelling at the whole system, attempting to let it all sit in your mind - to look at the dancing shadows and understand what is casting them, enjoying the dance all the same. Likewise, in his book, Nonlinear Dynamics and Chaos, Steven Strogatz humorously lists life under the list of unexplored scientific domains[4]. He does not relegate, however, science to its usual, removed, and sterilised place in this. Instead, he suggests that nature is so complex, that one cannot help but marvel at it with no real hope of controlling or quantifying it. I argue that these two scientists are just as much talking about what it means to be spiritual as scientific. To be spiritual is to try relentlessly to understand our life and our world and their relationship, even as they mercurially shift and change. Simply put, spirituality arises from a profound connection with nature. For example, the unity of the mind and the natural world is the bedrock of Eastern mysticism. The discipline seeks to connect the two through considered meditation and direly avoids their division. Such is highlighted by the Buddhist philosopher Asvaghosha; “When the mind is disturbed, the multiplicity of things is produced, but when the mind is quieted, the multiplicity of things disappears.” Western religions similarly connect nature and the spirit. Polytheistic traditions like the ancient Greek and Roman ascribe to their gods an element of the world each to control. The communication of the individual with a god is thus the interaction of the individual with the natural world. Similarly, the God of Judaism, Christianity and Islam is often present in awesome acts of nature. Particularly in the oldest parts of the Bible, God is seen to communicate through natural disasters and great floods and great fish and plagues and pestilences. Whilst I must admit that this analysis is somewhat superficial, it certainly illustrates the place nature holds deep in our minds and mythology. In an overwhelming number of cases, nature begets spirituality. Science is likewise born of nature and, for me at least, is therefore spiritual. But the value in reclassifying science as something spiritual as well as logical is not argumentation for naught. The scientist who is spiritual and fully connected with nature is better equipped than any. Guarding the connection between the individual and nature as sacred allows us to question our world on a more fundamental, truer level. Take as an example a question I hear often in my studies of physics: “Why is this theorem true?” Whilst it sounds reasonable enough, this type of question leads its asker down a reductionistic rabbit hole, in pitting mathematics against nature. Instead of seeing mathematics as a tool to describe nature, nature is seen as a product of mathematics. The rich physical world is reduced into rigidly true or false statements when we know such dichotomies are severely inept in the real world. Perhaps the scientist who is more holistically, spiritually connected with nature would be prompted to ask instead: “How true is this theorem to the world?” One does not have to look far to see how this subtle shift in approach to science can be incredibly successful. A fundamental principle of quantum physics states that matter is simultaneously particle-like and wave-like. This ambiguity in physical explanation, which would not be allowed from a cartesian point of view, is acceptable because it matches completely what is observed rather than attempting to reduce nature into the language of mathematics. Werner Heisenberg even wrote that “we cannot speak about atoms in ordinary language”, demonstrating the need for scientific holism. Approaching scientific discovery from a spiritual perspective allows us to move beyond the constraints of a reductive language. Likewise, studying science increases our spiritual relationship with nature. Albert Camus, perhaps rather unknowingly, said much the same thing in his unpublished novel, La Mort Heureuse. The protagonist, Mersault, on the brink of his death, says of the red, sunset clouds: “When I was young, my mother told me that [the clouds] were the souls of the dead who were travelling to Heaven. I was amazed that my soul was red. Now I know that it’s more likely the promise of wind. But that’s just as marvelous.”[5] What is spiritual is natural. Intellectual curiosity is rooted in the physical world, even as it changes and develops, becomes completely chaotic and throws more and more unanswerable questions in our faces. Science persists not because it seeks to provide answers to all of life’s questions, but because it provokes the mind into deeper questioning and, in that, deeper connection with nature and its ineffable, uncapturable beauty. The most marvellous thing about taking this perspective is that the science I do becomes more personal and ignites a stronger passion. I no longer must worry about the traces of myself; they are a necessary part of my understanding of the world and have shown me that, although science is “emotionless” in its methodology, it should not be so in its execution. Science is not spiritual because it precludes knowledge that is born from blind faith, but because it pushes knowledge to somewhere that is deeply human and that is beyond faith. References: [1] Fritjof Capra. 2000. The Tao of Physics : An Exploration of the Parallels between Modern Physics and Eastern Mysticism. 35th Anniversary Edition. Boston: Shambhala. [2] Wilde, Oscar. (1890) 2018. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York, Ny: Olive Editions. [3] Feynman, Richard. 1983. “Fun to Imagine with Richard Feynman.” Documentary. BBC. [4] Strogatz, Steven H. (2014) 2019. Nonlinear Dynamics and Chaos : With Applications to Physics, Biology, Chemistry, and Engineering. Second. Boca Raton: Crc Press. [5] Camus, Albert. (1971) 2010. La Mort Hereuse. Paris: Gallimard. Previous article back to DISORDER Next article

< Back to Issue 4 The Mirage of Camouflage by Krisha Ajay Darji 1 July 2023 Edited by Megane Boucherat and Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Imagine driving on a highway and the road is shimmered by the scorching midday sun. Whilst you drive further on a day like this, you might envision a wet patch gleaming on the road. Does it make you wonder how a mirage passes by playing with your vision? While there is physics involved in this phenomenon, evolution through natural selection has rendered some of its own biological members the ability to play with visual perceptions in subtle but enchanting ways! What comes to your mind when you hear the word camouflage? Some might visualize a chameleon blending in almost any background possible. Others might envision a soldier wearing camouflage pants and shirts to match the earthy tones for their defence. Colourful frogs, butterflies, snakes and so on might cross your mind as you think deeper about this phenomenon. Nature is filled with some of the most fascinating examples of camouflage. Camouflage as a Prehistoric Phenomenon The coloration patterns found on the Sinosauropteryx, a tiny, feathered, carnivorous dinosaur that lived in what is now China during the Early Cretaceous period was studied by a group of scientists. They discovered evidence of coloration patterns corresponding to modern animal camouflage by tracing the distribution of the dark pigmented feathers over the body. This included stripes running around its eyes and across the tail, and countershading with a dark back and pale bottom. By contrasting and comparing the mask and striped tail with the colours of contemporary animals, we can learn more about the evolution of camouflage as a means of natural selection [1]. The presence of stripes on only tails rather than the whole body of certain animals is not well understood, but they are suspected to function as a type of disruptive camouflage. Disruptive camouflage means visually separating the outline of a portion of the body from the others and to make it less noticeable. It could also serve as a type of deception by attracting predators' attention to the tail and away from the more vital parts - the body and head. Birds are found to be the most evident illustration of this as they descend from the theropod dinosaur [1]. Early tyrannosauroids, the ancestors of the ferocious T-rex, coexisted with Sinosauropteryx and may have even hunted the little dinosaur. Sinosauropteryx hunted tiny lizards, as was demonstrated by direct evidence in the shape of a whole animal preserved in the stomach of one of the specimens found. Hence, it is clear that camouflage patterns were developing at that time; since vision was critically important to these dinosaurs while they were hunting and being hunted. This example demonstrates camouflage as a prehistoric phenomenon and its evolution in the animal kingdom. Camouflage in Modern Day Animals Animals use camouflage primarily for defence. Blending in with their background prevents them from being seen easily by predators. The use of warning coloration, mimicry, countershading, background matching and disruptive coloration are mechanisms through which animals employ camouflage. Sneaky Snakes! The harmless scarlet king snake has stripes that resemble those of the deadly coral snake, but it is not poisonous. The only significant distinction between the two is the arrangement of the colours in their patterns. While the pattern for coral snakes is red-yellow-black, for scarlet king snakes it is red-black-yellow [2]. The difference is simple for anyone to remember thanks to a rhyme! Red on yellow kills a fellow, Red on black won’t hurt Jack! This is a classic example of mimicry: a form of camouflage in which one organism imitates the appearance of another to avoid predators. The Walking Leaf! The leaf insect or the waking leaf belongs to the family Phylliidae and is quite like its name. The walking leaf's body has patterns on its outer edges that look like the bite marks that caterpillars leave behind in leaves. To resemble a leaf swinging more accurately in the breeze, the insect even sways while walking! This is an example of a type of camouflage known as background matching- one of the most prevalent forms of camouflage. It is a mechanism through which a particular organism hides itself by resembling its surroundings in terms of its hues, shapes, or movement [2]. Mottled Moth! It is challenging for predators to determine the form and direction of the tiger moth as it is mottled with intricate patterns of black, white, and orange on its wings. This is an example of disruptive camouflage: when an animal has a patterned coloration, such as spots or stripes, it can be difficult to detect the animal's contour [2]. Lurking Leopards! Black rosettes on a light tan backdrop serve as the hallmarks of the leopard’s well known coat patterns. Their coats also include a subtle countershading to help them amalgamate with their environment and evade detection by prey. A leopard's body has a significantly lighter underside than the rest of its coat, which consists mostly of its belly and the bottom of its legs. This produces a shading effect that helps conceal the leopard's body form and contour, making it more challenging to see in low light or when seen from below. This is a typical example of countershading, which is a type of camouflage wherein the animal’s body is darker in colour, but its underside is lighter. It works by manipulating the interactions between light and shadows; thus, making the animal difficult to detect [2]. But what allows these animals to change their colours? Animals can camouflage themselves through two primary mechanisms: Pigments - biochromes Physical structures - prisms While some species have natural and microscopic pigments known as biochromes, others possess physical structures like prisms for camouflage. Biochromes can reflect some wavelengths of light while absorbing others. Species with biochromes can actually seem to alter their colour. Prisms can reflect and scatter light to give rise to a colour that is different from the animal’s skin [2]. Camouflage is not quite restricted to the sense of vision. There are several other ways evolution has taught the living world to adapt and protect themselves in the wild. There is a whole exciting world of behavioural and olfactory camouflage employed by diverse species in the animal kingdom. Ultimately, the compelling association of camouflage with the phenomenon of mirage conveys to us how nature always evolves and expands to secure the continued existence of its inhabitants. From the glistening heat of mirages on arid vistas to the delicate patterns on the wings of a butterfly, this fascinating juxtaposition of mirage and camouflage delivers a peek into the incredible mechanisms that animals deploy to traverse their natural habitats and survive amidst the obstacles they encounter. References Smithwick F. We discovered this dinosaur had stripes – and that tells us a lot about how it lived [Internet]. 2017 [cited 2023 May 12]. Available from: https://theconversation.com/we-discovered-this-dinosaur-had-stripes-and-that-tells-us-a-lot-about-how-it-lived-86170 National Geographic. Camouflage [Internet]. [cited 2023 May 12]. Available from: https://education.nationalgeographic.org/resource/camouflage/ Previous article Next article back to MIRAGE

< Back to Issue 8 Friend or Foe?: The Mechanisms Behind Facial Recognition by Mishen De Silva 3 June 2025 Edited by Luci Ackland Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin Among the many mysteries which encompass the world around us, lies a complex interaction right under our nose, or perhaps… right above it. In the labyrinth of human consciousness, we rely on the seemingly arbitrary judgements made from the combination of two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, to discern who might be a friend or foe. Facial recognition gives a snapshot into the intricate dance between our perception and cognition, which allows us to cultivate a more detailed understanding of those around us, and their thoughts, feelings and emotions. In those fleeting moments when you recognise your parents in a sea of unfamiliar faces, spot your friends ensconced among the rows of the lecture theatre, or simply bump into an old friend in a crowd of unacquainted strangers, your brain is able to identify faces in a fraction of a second, a remarkable feat of the human cognitive capacity. But what enables us to distinguish one face from another? How do the faces of those we know stand out from the countless other noses, eyes and mouths we see? To understand what makes these interactions so meaningful, we need to take a closer look at the mechanisms behind facial recognition and decoding within the brain. The Brain’s Blueprint To be human is to seek meaning, even when none may exist. The mind has transformed what is two eyes above a nose, and a nose above a mouth, into its own pattern for classifying the identities and expressions we see around us. Many studies have suggested facial processing to be holistic, where the featural patterns of the eyes, nose and mouth are perceived together and upright (1,2). This mechanism of holistic facial processing explains the interesting phenomena behind pareidolia, where the brain adapts the characteristics of human faces onto everyday objects. It’s the reason why when glancing at a bowling ball it may appear surprised (3), or why some have sworn to see a face on Mars (4)! Figure 1. Bowling balls with surprised facial expressions! (3) In pursuit of meaning for the patterns around us, the brain has developed specialised regions for processing the features of a face to help us recognise individual identities. Facial processing operates through a hierarchical mechanism where distinct aspects of the face are interpreted by different regions of the brain. The unchanging elements of the face such as gender, age, ethnicity and features related to someone’s identity are analysed by the Inferior Occipital Gyrus and Fusiform Face Area (FFA), while the changing aspects such as eye gaze, lip movements and facial expressions are analysed by the Superior Temporal Sulcus and Orbitofrontal Cortex (5,6). Of these face-selective regions, the FFA is particularly important for facial recognition as it helps us recognise who a person is (5). Through the activation of our FFA simple patterns shift from meaningless shapes into familiar visages representing our friends, family, or even our own reflection. Studies have uncovered the importance of the FFA for facial recognition by examining what may happen when this brain region malfunctions (7,8). A unique example of this is prosopagnosia, which results from damage to the FFA in the right hemisphere of the brain (9). Prosopagnosia is a relatively rare condition affecting about 1 in 50 people, impairing their ability to recognise faces (9). Imagine if every face you observed looked the same or unfamiliar… even your own reflection! It is through the brain and its specialised regions for facial recognition where we can appreciate the essence of human connection as a result of our neural hardware. These mechanisms responsible for transforming patterns into faces are the reason we can recognise our neighbour from a stranger, friend from a classmate, or our parents from a teacher. Often overlooked amidst the fleeting and impermanent nature of our social interactions, this complex system guides us along the fragile line of human relationships, between familiarity and estrangement, a friend or foe. It highlights how deeply-rooted our connection and sense of identity is to the faces we see. The Brain’s Threat Detection With each neuron, synapse and pathway, our brains are machines wired for connection, not just in how we think, but also in how we perceive and interact with our surroundings. From the brief exchange of smiles with a stranger, to the furtive glare from someone across the room, one of the hallmarks of our emotional understanding is the ability to decode the thoughts and intentions of others, even from the most subtle of expressions. In the vast and intricate web of neural connectivity, it can be difficult to isolate a singular brain region or connection to explain complex cognitive functions. Brain imaging studies have found a strong bidirectional link between the FFA and amygdala, making this a likely candidate for explaining our remarkable decoding ability (10,11). As the FFA picks up on who a person is or what facial expression is being made, it is the amygdala which then evaluates the emotional salience, or importance, of this face. The amygdala then signals back to the FFA to either increase or decrease the facial processing activity accordingly (10,12). Consider how the visibility of teeth in a barred expression can signal anger, the whiteness of someone’s eyes can hint fear or surprise, and the shape of a person’s eyebrows can indicate the intensity of their emotion, all which guide the brain to prioritise and interpret socially and emotionally relevant cues – almost like a survival filter! (13,14,15). From an evolutionary perspective, the FFA-amygdala feedback loop serves as an important tool for rapidly and accurately interpreting the intentions of others, a pinnacle function in the architecture of our physical and social survival (16). The ability to recognise whether someone poses a friend or foe has been a survival mechanism and evolutionary advantage for millennia. The role of our facial processing network, from the amygdala and FFA, to other brain regions discussed, provides a microcosm into our nature as social beings, and our evolutionary selective changes, which have enhanced our ability to sense, respond to, and connect with those around us (17). In this way, maybe the most profound mysteries lie not in distant galaxies or ancient ruins, but are hidden in plain sight, within the faces we walk past every day. Our brain’s ability to read them is not merely a mechanism for decoding emotion, but a mirror into the nature of what it means to be human, where connection, trust, and survival have long been written in the expressions of those around us. References 1. Farah M, Wilson K, Drain M, Tanaka J. What is “special” about face perception?. Psychological Review [Internet]. 1998 Aug [cited 2025 May 14]; 105(3):482–98. Available from: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC5561817/ 2. Richler J, Gauthier I. A meta-analysis and review of holistic face processing. Psychological Bulletin [Internet]. 2014 Sep [cited 2025 May 14]; 140(5): 1281–302. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/24956123/ 3. What do you think these bowling balls saw to leave them so surprised & shocked?. Reddit [Internet]. 2022 [cited 2025 May 31]. Available from: https://www.reddit.com/r/Pareidolia/comments/zc12jo/what_do_you_think_these_bowling_balls_saw_to/#lightbox 4. Gilbert L. Why the brain is programmed to see faces in everyday objects. UNSW Sites [Internet]. 2020 Aug [cited 2025 May 14]. Available from: https://www.unsw.edu.au/newsroom/news/2020/08/why-brain-programmed-see-faces-everyday-objects 5. Kanwisher N, Yovel G. The fusiform face area: a cortical region specialized for the perception of faces. Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society: Biological Sciences [Internet]. 2006 Dec 29 [cited 2025 May 14]; 361(1476):2109–28. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC1857737/ 6. Zhen Z, Fang H, Liu J. The Hierarchical Brain Network for Face Recognition. Ptito M, editor. PLoS ONE [Internet]. 2013 Mar [cited 2025 May 14]; 8(3):e59886. Available from: https://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=10.1371/journal.pone.0059886 7. Hadjikhani N, de Gelder B. Neural basis of prosopagnosia: An fMRI study. Human Brain Mapping [Internet]. 2002 [cited 2025 May 14]; 16(3):176–82. Available from: https://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/abs/10.1002/hbm.10043 8. Sorger B, Goebel R, Schiltz C, Rossion B. Understanding the functional neuroanatomy of acquired prosopagnosia. NeuroImage [Internet]. 2007 Apr [cited 2025 May 14] ;35(2):836–52. Available from: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S1053811906009906 9. Prosopagnosia | Psychology Today Australia [Internet]. www.psychologytoday.com . [cited 2025 May 14]. Available from: https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/basics/prosopagnosia 10. Herrington J, Taylor J, Grupe D, Curby K, Schultz R. Bidirectional communication between amygdala and fusiform gyrus during facial recognition. NeuroImage [Internet]. 2011 Jun [cited 2025 May 14]; 56(4):2348–55. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/21497657/ 11. Said C, Dotsch R, Todorov A. The amygdala and FFA track both social and non-social face dimensions. Neuropsychologia [Internet]. 2010 Oct [cited 2025 May 14]; 48(12): 3596–605. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/20727365/ 12. Šimić G, Tkalčić M, Vukić V, Mulc D, Španić E, Šagud M, et al. Understanding Emotions: Origins and Roles of the Amygdala. Biomolecules [Internet]. 2021 May [cited 2025 May 14]; 11(6):823. Available from: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC8228195/ 13. Jacobs R, Renken R, Aleman A, Cornelissen F. The amygdala, top-down effects, and selective attention to features. Neuroscience & Biobehavioral Reviews [Internet]. 2012 Oct [cited 2025 May 14]; 36(9):2069–84. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/22728112/ 14. Horstmann G, Lipp O, Becker S. Of toothy grins and angry snarls – Open mouth displays contribute to efficiency gains in search for emotional faces. Journal of Vision [Internet]. 2012 May [cited 2025 May 14]; 12(5):7–7. Available from: https://jov.arvojournals.org/article.aspx?articleid=2192034#:~:text=We%20suspected%20that%20visible%20teeth,(see%20also%20Figure%205).&text=Mean%20target%20present%20slopes%20(in,while%20angry%20faces%20do%20not.&text=Mean%20target%20present%20slopes%20(in,while%20angry%20faces%20do%20not . 15. Hasegawa H, Unuma H. Facial Features in Perceived Intensity of Schematic Facial Expressions. Perceptual and Motor Skills [Internet]. 2010 Feb [cited 2025 May 14]; 110(1):129–49. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/20391879/ 16. Schmidt K, Cohn J. Human facial expressions as adaptations: Evolutionary questions in facial expression research. American Journal of Physical Anthropology [Internet]. 2001 [cited 2025 May 14]; 116(S33):3–24. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11786989/ 17. Carter E, Pelphrey K. Friend or foe? Brain systems involved in the perception of dynamic signals of menacing and friendly social approaches. Social Neuroscience [Internet]. 2008 Jun [cited 2025 May 14]; 3(2):151–63. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/18633856/ Previous article Next article Enigma back to

By Andrew Lim From Fusion to Submarines: A Nuclear Year By Andrew Lim 23 March 2022 Edited by Tanya Kovacevic Illustrated by Quynh Anh Nguyen A press conference in April, pledging millions of dollars to nuclear medicine. A university address in November, rethinking Australia’s nuclear attitudes. A fusion reaction in December, promising a clean energy revolution. No matter where you were or who you were listening to, the world of nuclear science was inescapable in 2022. It has been a year of great progress and, at times, even greater controversy – pairing milestone triumphs and landmark facilities with old fears and vast challenges. So, what has defined the year in nuclear science – and what comes next? Powering the Future Image 1: LLNL’s National Ignition Facility, where the successful fusion ignition experiment was conducted in December. Perhaps the year’s most eye-catching discovery came near its end. On 13th December, scientists at the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory (LLNL) in California announced that for the first time, they had produced more energy out of a nuclear fusion reaction than they had put in. It seemed to herald the beginnings of a new era – nuclear power without toxic nuclear waste. However, to report this as the USA’s civilian nuclear energy story of the year perhaps fails to capture the whole picture. It’s an important discovery, sure, but it stands on another development, far less well known: the congressional funding battles of the preceding months. Crafted from intense negotiations led by Majority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) and Senators Todd Young (R-IN), Mark Warner (D-VA) and John Cornyn (R-TX), the bipartisan CHIPS and Science Act (1) authorized and appropriated funds for nuclear research en masse. It provided everything from a five-year $50 million p.a. plan for “Foundational Nuclear Science” (2), to a $1.09 billion Electron Ion Collider (3) and a “National Nuclear University Research Infrastructure Reinvestment” scheme that included LLNL (4). Even private sector fission work received a boost in the form of the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022 (5), built on a compromise between Schumer and Senator Joe Manchin (D-WV), allocating billions of dollars in tax credits and loan guarantees for the sector. These funding boosts (and their predecessors), the work of years of lobbying and negotiations across multiple political factions, helped create the environment necessary for this research to thrive – and the breakthrough is as much a reminder of their importance as a triumph of nuclear physics. Health and Safety Image 2: Prime Minister the Hon Scott Morrison MP, flanked by Health Minister the Hon Greg Hunt MP (L) and backbencher Gladys Liu MP (R), announces a $23 million APME grant in April. The year’s nuclear focus extended into the medical sector, too. President Biden’s 2022 State of the Union address announced an appeal beyond partisan lines, one pillar of which was the use of the Advanced Research Projects Agency for Health (ARPA-H) to “drive breakthroughs in cancer” (6). His call was answered in budget appropriations bills, funding accelerators and reactors to research new radioisotopes, while also investigating safer handling methods for natural and artificial nuclear sources (7). Such emphases echoed as far away as our antipodean shores. While Australia may already produce 80% of the radioisotopes used in its own nuclear medical procedures (8), both major parties took 2022 to advance nuclear medicine production. In April, the Coalition government launched new grants for the Australian Precision Medicine Enterprise (APME) in Melbourne, with the Hon Greg Hunt MP, then Minister for Health, declaring nuclear medicine “the next stage of precision medicine.” (9) Mere months later, in the October Budget, his Labor successor the Hon Mark Butler MP pledged funds for medical supplies of Gallium-67 (10). Across party lines, nuclear innovation became key to funding in the health sector. Securing Tomorrow Image 3: Australian Deputy Prime Minister and Minister of Defence Richard Marles (L) meets with US Secretary of Defence Lloyd J Austin III (R) at the Pentagon to discuss AUKUS submarine arrangements in December. All that said, no article about nuclear science, especially these days, would be complete without a discussion of AUKUS. In late October, an interview with Australian Vice Admiral Jonathan Mead was published in The Australian, in which he underscored the importance of building a nuclear workforce – that is, building the educational pathways required to produce all the crews, builders, architects, regulators and scientists a nuclear submarine capability would entail (11). With Australia’s first nuclear submarine captains likely in high school, the infrastructure needed to train them simply doesn’t exist – and time is running out. This urgency was emphasised by academics at ANU, home of the only postgraduate qualifications dedicated to nuclear science in the country. In November, Vice-Chancellor Brian Schmidt AC spoke of an approaching “transformation in Australia’s cultural relationship” with nuclear science (12). In December, Dr AJ Mitchell, an ANU academic leading the development of a national program for nuclear science and education, reiterated Schmidt’s arguments. In comments provided to The Sydney Morning Herald and The Age, he advocated for a “sovereign capability…start[ing] yesterday,” to ensure an Australian nuclear workforce capable of meeting requirements not only for defence but also for health, regulation, space exploration and much more (13). However, this attitude was not without controversy. In today’s world, where the word ‘nuclear’ carries connotations of Chernobyl, Fukushima, and the Cold War, increased nuclear funding (even if only to regulatory or medical bodies) often sparks fear in the public imagination. In response to Mitchell’s comments, A/Prof Peter Christoff, a University of Melbourne climate policy researcher, expressed worries about increased “anxiety in our region”. More than anything else, this perhaps underscores the biggest issue facing the nuclear sector: the long-held apprehensions from media, governments and beyond that can often lump anything vaguely nuclear – from medication to missiles – under the same roof. What's Next? Image 4: US President Joe Biden delivering his 2023 State of the Union Address, advocating for increased cancer research funding, flanked by Vice-President Kamala Harris (L) and Speaker Kevin McCarthy (R). Over the first months of 2023, the tense balancing acts and decisions of the past year have only continued to grow. In the USA, President Biden’s 2023 State of the Union speech, delivered in early February, saw him reinvigorate his call to “end cancer as we know it” (14) – the same call that led to all that radioisotope funding last year. However, Biden faces a Republican House of Representatives seemingly hell-bent on blocking his legislation. With the resultant impasse threatening a wholescale government shutdown, the funding necessary for scientific leaps of the kind seen in 2022 remains in doubt. On the Australian front, our lack of a ready nuclear workforce is causing jitters amongst our allies – with leaked letters from US Senators Jack Reed (D-RI) and James Inhofe (R-OK) expressing concern to the Biden administration about Australia relying on American production lines for stopgap submarines. Australian Defence Minister Richard Marles spent the December-January period allaying these concerns with the support of US Representatives Joe Courtney (D-CT-02) and Mike Gallagher (R-WI-08) while in the US and UK, but the issue is certain to remain a hot topic for this year. Even closer to home, Rio Tinto’s loss of a Caesium-137 capsule in Western Australia captured the imaginations of people across the nation and the world. At once it seemed to represent the long-standing fear of nuclear research and its importance in fuelling the same regulatory efforts that helped track down the capsule. Perhaps more than a story of scientific discoveries, of neutrons, protons and physics, the story of nuclear science in 2022 and beyond is the story of people. Of those legislators and politicians, balancing visions of the future with messy political compromises. Of those scientists and researchers, balancing plans and facilities with the capacity of their institutions. Of us, the ordinary public, balancing long-held phobias with exciting aspirations. Will we meet the challenges that lie before us? Are we ready to have a nuanced discussion about how we want to use our nuclear knowledge? Can we balance the possibilities of the future with the fears of the past? Well... that’s entirely up to us. Andrew Lim is an Editor and Feature Writer with OmniSci Magazine and spent the summer as a Summer Research Scholar at the Australian National University’s Heavy Ion Accelerator Facility, working on studying nuclear structure through particle transfer reactions. Image Credits (in order): Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory; Monash University; US Department of Defence; The White House Author's Note Between the submission of this article in late February and its publication in mid-March, a notable development took place, one that necessitated this additional note. On March 14, at an announcement held in San Diego, President Biden, Prime Minister Albanese and Prime Minister Sunak revealed plans for Australia to purchase three to five American Virginia-class submarines in the early 2030s. The Royal Navy and the Royal Australian Navy would then work out of their shipyards to develop and produce new SSN-AUKUS submarines (based off plans for successors to the British Astute-class models), coming into service in the late 2030s. If anything, this timeline accentuates the dramatic expansions required from Australia’s nuclear workforce, as presented in the original article. Meanwhile, the narrative that surrounded the announcement – one solely focussed on nuclear research’s military capabilities (and, at that, often conflating nuclear weaponry with nuclear power) – seems only to indicate the same throughlines of 2022 repeating themselves in the year to come…and nuanced and subtle discussion of nuclear research being left for another day. References CHIPS and Science Act, Pub L No 117-167, 136 Stat 1366 (2022). See ibid, div B tit I § 10102(d), 136 Stat 1415-6. See ibid, div B tit I § 10107, 136 Stat 1449-50, esp. sub-s (b)(4). See ibid, div B subtitle L § 10741-5, 136 Stat 1718-21. Inflation Reduction Act of 2022, Pub L No 117-169, 136 Stat 1818. The White House Office of the Press Secretary, Remarks by President Biden in State of the Union Address. March 2, 2022. https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2022/03/02/remarks-by-president-biden-in-state-of-the-union-address/ See House Committee on Appropriations, Report to Accompany H.R. 8295, H.R. Rep No 117-403 (2022), esp. at 65, 104, 235, 238. Taylor A, Birmingham S and Hunt G, Safeguarding the future of critical medicine supply [Media Release]. September 30, 2021. https://www.minister.industry.gov.au/ministers/taylor/media-releases/safeguarding-future-critical-medicine-supply. “Precision medicine is the ‘future of medicine’: Greg Hunt”. The Australian. April 4, 2022. https://www.theaustralian.com.au/nation/politics/precision-medicine-is-the-future-of-medicine-greg-hunt/video/9ec9b0942bfb18757e3fbf4f3e95e0f4 Garvey, P. “Butler steps in to ease nuclear medicine crisis”. The Australian. October 27, 2022. Nicholson, B. “Defence Special Report: Cultivating a Nuclear Mindset”. The Australian. October 27, 2022. ANU Communications & Engagement, Building Australia’s AUKUS-ready nuclear workforce: Address by Professor Brian Schmidt AC. November 9, 2022. Mannix, L. “‘Cherish’ the power: Physicists issue call to arms over nuclear skills gap”. The Sydney Morning Herald. December 28, 2022. https://www.smh.com.au/national/cherish-the-power-physicists-issue-call-to-arms-over-nuclear-skills-gap-20221228-p5c92s.html The White House Office of the Press Secretary, Remarks by President Biden in State of the Union Address. February 7, 2023. https://www.whitehouse.gov/briefing-room/speeches-remarks/2023/02/07/remarks-by-president-biden-in-state-of-the-union-address-2/ Previous article Next article

< Back to Issue 8 In Your Dreams: Unpacking the Stories of Your Slumber by Ciara Dahl 3 June 2025 Edited by Ingrid Sefton Illustrated by Saraf Ishmam One minute you're flying through the sky, the next, you're naked in a room full of people. Except now, your teeth have started falling out? These surreal, and often illogical, experiences are what make dreams such a mystery. From ancient spiritual interpretations to modern neuroscience, people have long wondered not just what dreams mean , but why we have them at all. Are they cryptic messages from the unconscious? Perhaps a side effect of memory processing? Or maybe they are simply the brain’s way of entertaining itself while we sleep. Attempting to answer these questions is no easy feat. Despite being a universal human experience, dreams are inherently personal. Given no one but ourselves experiences our dreams, how can the fragmented recollections we have upon waking be objectively studied? Dream research was once steeped in spirituality and mysticism, often seen as divine messages from gods or whispered guidance from ancestors (1). Even Aristotle offered his own theory, suggesting dreams were the byproduct of internal bodily movements during sleep (1). It wasn’t until the early 20th century that dreams began to be studied through a psychological lens, most notably by Sigmund Freud, who proposed that dreams contained deeply personal and symbolic insights into the unconscious mind (2). Modern research, however, is beginning to uncover the connection between our dreams and complex cognitive processes such as memory consolidation. Techniques employed by oneirologists — that’s the fancy word for scientists specialising in the scientific study of dreams — includes fMRI, PET scans and EEG. Such methods are used to study brain activity during sleep and dreaming, particularly during REM and non-REM sleep (3). Using these technologies in tandem with qualitative descriptions gathered from individuals’ dream reports allows us to unpack the content and function of our dreams, whilst also considering questions such as why we seem to forget most of our dreams. What dreams are made of: influences on the content of our dreams There’s a growing body of evidence to suggest that our dream content is influenced by the consolidation of our memories as we sleep. Sleep provides an ideal neurological state for us to organise our recent memories into more long term memories (4). The reactivation and subsequent consolidation of memories in the sleeping brain appears to contribute to the content of dreams we recall upon awakening. In one study examining this phenomena, participants played extensive amounts of Tetris prior to sleeping. In the subsequent dream report collection, over 60% of participants cited seeing Tetris images in their dreams (5). This illustrates how the boundaries between waking and dreaming cognition are more porous than they appear, with dream content itself serving as a window into the neural mechanisms of memory consolidation. Not all dreaming can be directly tied to our most recent memories, but all dreams are built upon our prior experiences. For example, the appearance of recognisable friends or foes in our dreams in turn relies on our ability to recall their features and mannerisms (6). The bizarre patchwork of familiar situations we encounter in our dreams is also likely a reflection of the adaptive process of memory consolidation, as fragments of our memories are integrated during sleep. The Night Shift — what is the purpose of dreams We may be inching closer to understanding what influences the content of our dreams, but why do we dream in the first place? The Threat Simulation Theory (TST) argues that dreams act as an ancient biological defence mechanism, allowing us to simulate threatening events we may encounter in our waking life (7). TST suggests that on an evolutionary scale, being able to simulate threatening events in our sleep allows us to efficiently perceive and avoid threats whilst awake, leading to greater survival and reproductive success. It is a bit hard to imagine, however, that dreaming about being naked in public is going to be the key to our survival. This is why some scientists suggest that dreams are simply the brain’s attempt to make sense of random neural activity during REM sleep. This Activation-Synthesis Theory proposes that rather than rehearsing for real-life threats, our brains may just be firing off chaotic signals which it then tries to weave into bizarre and often disjointed stories (8). Whether dreams serve as a survival tool or are simply the byproduct of random brain activity, they offer a window into the complex workings of the sleeping mind. Vanishing Visions and the Concept of Dream Amnesia Have you ever woken up from such an absurd dream it seems impossible to forget, only to have forgotten the details by the end of breakfast? That’s what the experts call “dream amnesia”. It’s estimated that the average person dreams four to six times per night, yet you’d be lucky to remember even one of them by morning (6). At the molecular level, noradrenaline — a neurotransmitter associated with memory consolidation — is at its lowest concentrations while we sleep (9). This depletion could be a key factor contributing to dream amnesia, preventing the transfer of our dream experiences from short-term memory to long-term memory. Different sleep stages may also influence dream recall (6). It has been suggested that waking up during or just after REM sleep leads to more vivid dreams. In contrast, dream activity is low during non-REM sleep and hence, waking up during this sleep phase may also contribute to our poor dream recall. Although it can be disappointing to forget these wild dream experiences, dream amnesia may also serve an adaptive purpose. The “clean slate” hypothesis argues that forgetting dreams allows us to wake with a clear mind, free of the potentially disturbing content of our dreams (10). Alternatively, by maintaining a clear distinction between our dreaming and waking experiences, we are protected from confusing our dreams with reality, preventing anxiety that may otherwise ensue (11). Perhaps this forgetfulness may not be a flaw in our memory but a feature of it, helping us to preserve our mental clarity and emotional balance as we transition from the surreal world of our dreams to the demands of our waking life. In conclusion We may never fully unlock the secrets of our nightly adventures, but one thing is clear: dreams are a fascinating blend of memory, biology, and mystery. Whether they're ancient survival simulations, emotional clean-ups, or just the brain’s quirky way of entertaining itself while the lights are off, dreams remind us how wonderfully weird and complex the human mind truly is. Next time you find yourself tap dancing with Beyoncé or riding a roller coaster made of spaghetti, just enjoy the ride. Your brain is simply doing what it does best — keeping things entertaining, even in your sleep. References Palagini L, Rosenlicht N. Sleep, dreaming, and mental health: A review of historical and neurobiological perspectives. Sleep Medicine Reviews. 2011 Jun;15(3):179–86. Freud S. The Interpretation of Dreams [Internet]. 1900. Available from: https://psychclassics.yorku.ca/Freud/Dreams/dreams.pdf Ruby PM. Experimental Research on Dreaming: State of the Art and Neuropsychoanalytic Perspectives. Frontiers in Psychology [Internet]. 2011 Nov 18;2(286). Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3220269/#B107 Wamsley EJ. Dreaming and offline memory consolidation. Current Neurology and Neuroscience Reports [Internet]. 2014 Jan 30;14(3). Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4704085/ Stickgold R. Replaying the Game: Hypnagogic Images in Normals and Amnesics. Science. 2000 Oct 13;290(5490):350–3. Nir Y, Tononi G. Dreaming and the brain: from phenomenology to neurophysiology. Trends in Cognitive Sciences [Internet]. 2010 Jan 14;14(2):88–100. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC2814941/ Revonsuo A. The reinterpretation of dreams: An evolutionary hypothesis of the function of dreaming. Behavioral and Brain Sciences [Internet]. 2000 Dec;23(6):877–901. Available from: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/11515147/ Hobson JA, McCarley RW. The brain as a dream state generator: an activation-synthesis hypothesis of the dream process. The American journal of psychiatry [Internet]. 1977 [cited 2019 Nov 14];134(12):1335–48. Available from: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21570 Mitchell HA, Weinshenker D. Good night and good luck: Norepinephrine in sleep pharmacology. Biochemical Pharmacology. 2010 Mar;79(6):801–9. Eugene AR, Masiak J. The Neuroprotective Aspects of Sleep. MEDtube science [Internet]. 2015 Mar;3(1):35. Available from: https://pmc.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/articles/PMC4651462/ Zhao J, Schoch SF, Valli K, Dresler M. Dream function and dream amnesia: dissolution of an apparent paradox. Neuroscience and Biobehavioral Reviews. 2024 Nov 20;167. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 8 The Lost Link: A Mystery in Evolution by Eymi Gladys Carcamo Rodriguez 3 June 2025 Edited by Ciara Dahl Illustrated by Anabelle Dewi Saraswati The Enigma of Evolutionary Gaps Few scientific mysteries have captured the public imagination as deeply as the search for the “missing link”, a hypothetical species that bridges the evolutionary gap between ancient primates and modern humans. For generations, scientists and the public alike imagined that a single fossil discovery would neatly connect our distant ancestors to Homo sapiens . Yet as our understanding of evolution has grown, it has become clear that the story is far more complex. Rather than a single missing puzzle piece, human evolution is now regarded as a tangled web of interconnected species, with many branches and dead ends (1). The Myth of the Missing Link Historical Context The term “missing link” surged in popularity during the 19th century, following Charles Darwin’s ground-breaking work on the theory of evolution. Early evolutionary theorists envisioned a linear process: one species evolving directly into another, with the “missing link” as the crucial fossil that would clearly show how humans evolved from apes. This view persisted in popular culture; even as scientific evidence began to suggest otherwise. In Victorian England, the idea of a missing link became a cultural phenomenon. Fossil discoveries–like the first Neanderthal skulls–were hailed as evidence of humanity’s ascent from apes. However, modern evolutionary biology has revealed that evolution is not linear, but a branching tree, filled with dead ends and interwoven paths (2). The Fossils: Pieces of a Complex Puzzle Despite a shift in scientific thinking, fossil discoveries remain central to our understanding of human origins. Iconic finds such as Australopithecus afarensis (“Lucy”), Homo habilis , and Homo naledi have each provided snapshots of different stages in human evolution. Yet, none of these fossils fit the mould of the elusive “missing link” (3, 4). Australopithecus afarensis (c. 3.9–2.9 million years ago) walked upright and had both human-like and ape-like features. Lucy’s skeleton suggests a close connection to the human lineage, but her brain size and cranial features remain distinctly primitive. Homo habilis , one of the earliest members of our genus, shows evidence of tool use and increased brain size, but still differs significantly from modern humans. These fossils demonstrate that human evolution was not a simple progression from one species to the next. Many early hominins coexisted for millions of years, and some, like Homo habilis , may have lived alongside more primitive ancestors such as Australopithecus . The idea of a singular “missing link” is now viewed as a historical artifact, replaced by the recognition that human evolution is a mosaic, with branches and offshoots that defy easy classification. The Persistent Gaps Despite advances in palaeontology and genetics, many questions about human evolution remain unanswered: Why did early human brains grow so rapidly? Around 2 million years ago, our ancestors experienced a dramatic increase in brain size. The causes-whether tool use, diet, or social complexity-are still debated. How much did early humans interbreed with other hominins? Ancient DNA reveals that Homo sapiens interbred with Neanderthals and Denisovans, raising questions about the scale and impact of these interactions. Why did Homo sapiens spread so quickly across the globe? Our species began migrating out of Africa roughly 60,000 years ago, adapting rapidly to new environments. The role of culture, technology, and innovation in this expansion is still being explored (5). These questions highlight the complexity and dynamism of human evolution, suggesting that the process was shaped by a mix of biological and environmental factors. DNA: The New Frontier in the Search for the Missing Link While fossils have provided crucial insights, the latest breakthroughs come from genetic research. Advances in DNA sequencing allow scientists to peer into the ancient past in unprecedented ways. One of the most surprising findings is the discovery of a “ghost population” – an ancient group whose DNA is present in modern humans, but whose fossils have never been found. These genetic traces suggest that entire populations once co-existed and interbred with Homo sapiens , yet left no physical evidence behind. This challenges the traditional fossil-focused search for the missing link and highlights the importance of genetic inheritance in understanding our origins (6). “The idea that entire populations could have existed and disappeared without leaving any fossil evidence challenges our traditional search for the missing link. It suggests that the story of human evolution is not just about the fossils we find, but also about the genetic material we carry with us today” (7). The Real Missing Link: A Paradigm Shift The quest for a single missing link is now seen as outdated. Evolution is not a straight line but a complex web, with species branching, merging, and sometimes vanishing without a trace. Rather than a specific fossil, the “missing link” has become a symbol of our evolving understanding of what it means to be human. Each new discovery-whether in the fossil record or in our DNA-forces us to rethink our place in nature and the forces that shaped our evolution. Conclusion: The Journey of Discovery Continues The story of human evolution remains incomplete. Each new fossil and genetic breakthrough bring us closer to understanding our origins, but the mystery endures. The search for the missing link may never be resolved, and perhaps it is not meant to be. Instead, it is the ongoing process of discovery that enriches our understanding of who we are and where we came from. References Veldhuis D, Kjærgaard PC, Maslin M. Human Evolution: Theory and Progress. In: Smith C, editor. Encyclopedia of Global Archaeology. Cham: Springer International Publishing; 2020. p. 5317-30. Kjaergaard PC. 'Hurrah for the missing link!': a history of apes, ancestors and a crucial piece of evidence. Notes Rec R Soc Lond. 2011;65(1):83-98. Martinón-Torres M, Garate D, Herries AIR, Petraglia MD. No scientific evidence that Homo naledi buried their dead and produced rock art. J Hum Evol. 2024;195:103464. Schrein CM. Lucy: A marvelous specimen. Nature Education Knowledge. 2015;6(2). Chagi S. The Mosaic of Human Evolution: Challenging the Concept of a Singular ‘Missing Link’ World of Paleoanthropology2024 [Available from: https://worldofpaleoanthropology.org/2024/08/27/the-mosaic-of-human-evolution-challenging-the-concept-of-a-singular-missing-link/ . Sample I. Scientists find evidence of 'ghost population' of ancient humans: The Guardian Australia; 2020 [Available from: https://www.theguardian.com/science/2020/feb/12/scientists-find-evidence-of-ghost-population-of-ancient-humans . Banich MT. The Missing Link: The Role of Interhemispheric Interaction in Attentional Processing. Brain and Cognition. 1998;36(2):128-57. Previous article Next article Enigma back to

< Back to Issue 7 Soaring Heights: An Ode to the Airliner by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin 22 October 2024 edited by Lauren Zhang illustrated by Esme MacGillivray A smile at your neighbour-to-be, a quick check and an awkward squeeze as you sidle into your seat: 18A. Window seat, a coveted treasure! A clatter . Whoops! As you fumble for your dropped phone, your feet–which jut out ungracefully onto the aisle, end up as a speed bump for the wheels of someone’s carry-on. Yeowch! It isn’t without more jostling that everyone finally settles into their seats, and with a scan at the window, the tarmac outside is looking busy. Hmm. It makes sense–this flight is just one of the 36.8 million trips around the world flown over the past year (International Air Transport Association, 2024). Commercial aviation has clocked many miles since its first official iteration in 1914: a 27-km long “airboat” route established around Tampa Bay, Florida (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Proving successful, it catalysed an industry and led to the establishment of carriers like Qantas, and the Netherlands’ KLM. Mechanics of Ascent (and Staying Afloat) As said Qantas plane pulls up in the window view, its tail dipped red with the roo taxies ahead of you on the tarmac. Your plane is now at the front of the runway queue and the engines begin to roar. You’re thrusted backwards as gravity moulds you to your seat. For a split second, as you look out the window, you can’t help but wonder– how on earth did you even get up here? How is this heavy, huge plane not falling out of the sky? The ability for a plane to stay afloat lies in its wings, which allow the plane to fly. The wings enable this through generating lift (NASA, 2022). Lift is described as one of the forces acting on an object like a plane, countering weight under gravity which is the force acting in the opposite direction, according to Newton’s Third Law ( figure 1a ). A plane's wings are constructed in a curved ‘airfoil’ shape with optimal aerodynamic properties: as pressure decreases above the wing with deflected oncoming air pushed up, the velocity increases, as per Bernoulli’s principle. This increases the difference in pressure above and below the wing, which remains high, generating a lift force that pushes the plane upwards (NASA, 2022) ( figure 1b ). Figure 1a. Forces that act on a plane . Note. From Four Forces on an Airplane by Glenn Research Centre. NASA, 2022 . https://www1.grc.nasa.gov/beginners-guide-to-aeronautics/four-forces-on-an-airplane/ . Copyright 2022 NASA. Figure 1b. An airfoil, with geometric properties suitable for generating lift. Note. From Four Forces of Flight by Let’s Talk Science. Let’s Talk Science, 2024. https://letstalkscience.ca/educational-resources/backgrounders/four-forces-flight . Copyright 2021 Let’s Talk Science. Looking laterally, the thrust of a plane’s engines counters the horizontal drag force that airfoils minimise, all whilst maximising lift. Advancements in plane design over the mid-20th century focused on optimising this ‘Lift to Drag ratio’ for greater efficiency, a priority stemming from the austere, military landscape of World War II (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Influenced by warplane manufacturing trends, the commercial sphere saw a transition from wooden to durable aluminium frames. In conjunction with this, double-wing biplanes were superseded by single-wing monoplanes ( figure 2a, b ), which had a safer configuration that reduced airflow interference whilst maximising speed and stability (Chatfield, 1928). Figure 2a. A biplane, the De Havilland DH-82A Tiger Moth. Note. From DH-82A Tiger Moth [photograph] by Temora Aviation Museum. Temora Aviation Museum, 2017 . https://aviationmuseum.com.au/dh-82a-tiger-moth/ . Copyright 2024 Temora Aviation Museum. Figure 2b. A monoplane, an Airbus A310. Note. From Airbus A310-221, Swissair AN0521293 [photograph] by Aragão, P, 1995. Wikimedia Commons . https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Airbus_A310-221,_Swissair_AN0521293.jpg CC BY-SA 3.0. Taking a Breather Without really noticing it, you’re somewhat upright again. Employing head shakes and gulps to make your own ears pop, you can also hear the babies bawling in discomfort a few aisles back. Blocked ears are our body’s response to atmospheric pressure changes that occur faster than our ears can adjust to (Bhattacharya et al., 2019). Atmospheric pressure describes the weight of air in the atmosphere above a given region of the Earth’s surface (NOAA, 2023), which decreases with altitude. Our bodies are suited to pressure conditions at sea level, allowing sufficient intake of oxygen through saturated haemoglobin within the bloodstream. Subsequently, the average human body can maintain this intake until 10000 ft (around 3000 m) in the air, with altitudes exceeding this likely to result in hypoxia and impairment (Bagshaw & Illig, 2018). Such limits have had implications for commercial flying. Trips in the early era were capped at low altitudes and proved highly uncomfortable: passengers were exposed to chilly winds, roaring engines, and thinner air, and pilots were forced to navigate around geographical obstacles like mountain ranges and low-lying weather irregularities. However, this changed in 1938 when Boeing unveiled the 307 Stratoliner, which featured pressurised cabins. Since then, air travel above breathing limits became possible, morphing into the high-altitude trips taken today (National Air and Space Museum, 2022). Via a process still relevant to us today, excess clean air left untouched by jet engines in combustion is diverted away, cooled, and pumped into the cabin (Filburn, 2019). Carried out in incremental adjustments during ascent and descent, the pressure controller regulates air inflow based on the cockpit’s readings of cruising altitude. Mass computerisation in the late 20th century enabled precise real-time readings, allowing safety features like sensitive pressure release valves, sensor-triggered oxygen mask deployment, or manual depressurisation. However, the sky does indeed dictate the limits, as pressure conditions are simulated at slightly higher altitudes than sea level to avoid fuselage strain (Filburn, 2019). This minor pressure discrepancy plays a part in why we feel weary and tired whilst flying–our cells are working at an oxygen deficit for the duration of the flight. Your yawn just about now proves this point. Time for your first snooze of many… Food, Glorious Food A groggy couple of hours later and it’s either lunch time or dinner, your head isn’t too sure. You wait with bated breath, anticipating the arrival of the flight attendant wheeling the bulky cart through the narrow aisle... Only to be met with a chicken sausage that vaguely tastes like chicken, with vaguely-mashed potato and a vaguely-limp salad on the side. Oh, and don’t forget the searing sweetness of the jelly cup! You’re far from alone in your lukewarm reception of your lunch-dinner. Aeroplane food remains notorious amongst travellers for its supposedly flat taste. Whilst airlines like Thai Airways and Air France have employed Michelin-star chefs to translate an assortment of gourmet cultural dishes to tray table fare (De Syon, 2008; Thai Airways, 2018), the common culprit responsible for the less-than-appetising experience remains – being on a plane. As Spence (2017) details, multiple factors play into how you rate your inflight dinner, many relating to the effects of air travel on our bodies. The ‘above sea level’ air pressure within the plane coincides with higher thresholds for detecting bitterness at 5000-10000 ft (around 1500-3000m), heightening our sensitivity to the tart undertones of everyday foods. Dry pressurised air that cycles through the cabin is about as humid as desert environments, which hampers our smell perception and thus taste. Less intuitively, the loud ambient noise of the plane’s engines also appears to hinder olfactory perception, though the reason as to why remains unclear. Nevertheless, alleviating the grumbling passenger and stomach is an area of interest with a few successful forays. One angle of approach involves food enhancement. Incorporating sensory and textural elements into meals such as chillies and the occasional crunch or crackle can compensate for impaired perception. Interestingly, umami has been observed as the least affected taste sense mid-air (Spence, 2017), inspiring British Airways’ intense and aromatic umami-rich menus – though with the unwitting drawback of threatening to stink up the plane on multiple occasions (Moskvitch, 2015). Meanwhile, Singapore Changi Airport houses a simulation chamber for food preparation in a low-pressure environment, taking it up a notch in both quality and cost (Moskvitch, 2015). Alternatively, passengers can be psychologically tricked into perceiving food to be more appetising than it is in reality. Some examples of this include the use of noise-cancelling headphones, cabin lighting designed for enhancing the appearance of food, or appealing language for describing meals. Both off-ground and in air, it was found that humans were inclined to respond more positively to dishes described in an appetising and detailed manner (Spence, 2017), rather than the vague choices of “sausage or pasta”. Whilst these innovations have covered some ground, De Syon (2008) also notes that sociology can influence our perceptions of food on a plane. The enjoyment of meals is dependent upon core social rituals like dining communally or comforting meal-time habits–both of which are tricky to navigate and achieve on a packed plane with front-on seating. What Goes Up Must Come Down Not long now! Accompanied by the movies you’ve played for the first time in your life and oodles of complimentary tea, there’s about half an hour left until landing. Jolt! The seatbelt sign is bold and bright as you can feel the plane gradually descending–it’s getting bumpy! As your plane rocks about and the airport comes into view as a speck in the distance, your descent is at the mercy of the crosswinds… and turbulence? Not only do these vortices of air cause havoc mid-flight, near cloud bands and thunderstorms (National Weather Service, 2019), they also pose a challenge during landing in the form of local, “clear-air” convection currents invisible on radar. These currents often occur in summer months and in the early afternoon when incoming solar energy is at its highest. In particular, they emerge when the surface of the earth is unevenly heated, including across regions such as the oceans, grassland, or in this case, the pavement near the airport. Consequently, this creates pockets of warm and cool air that rapidly rise and fall, creating downdrafts, thereby trapping planes ( figure 3 ). Luckily, pilots are specifically trained to recognise these surface winds, and can adjust their landing glidepath to suit local conditions forewarned in Terminal Aerodrome Forecasts for a steady, controlled descent (BOM, 2014). Figure 3. Varying glidepath due to local convection currents - note the different types of surfaces. Note. From Turbulence by National Weather Service. National Weather Service, 2019. https://www.weather.gov/source/zhu/ZHU_Training_Page/turbulence_stuff/turbulence/turbulence.htm . Copyright 2019 National Weather Service. Even with its bumpier experiences that draw endless complaints, it is undeniable that commercial aviation has grown tremendously over the century to deliver the safe, efficient and comfortable flights we are accustomed to today. Building upon a history of ingenuity and scientific discovery, it's almost certain that the industry will soar to even greater heights in our increasingly globalised world. Enough talk–you’re finally here! It’s a relief when you clamber from your seat, giving those arms and legs a much needed stretch. Now, time to trod along on solid ground… …and onto the connecting flight. Cheap stopover tickets. Darn it. References Aragão, P. (1995). Airbus A310-221, Swissair AN0521293 . Wikimedia Commons. https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/9/9b/Airbus_A310-221%2C_Swissair_JP5963897.jpg Bagshaw, M., & Illig, P. (2019). The aircraft cabin environment. Travel Medicine , 429–436. https://doi.org/10.1016/b978-0-323-54696-6.00047-1 Bhattacharya, S., Singh, A., & Marzo, R. R. (2019). “Airplane ear”—A neglected yet preventable problem. AIMS Public Health , 6 (3), 320–325. https://doi.org/10.3934/publichealth.2019.3.320 BOM. (2014). Hazardous Weather Phenomena - Turbulence . Bureau of Meteorology. http://www.bom.gov.au/aviation/data/education/turbulence.pdf Chatfield, C. H. (1928). Monoplane or Biplane. SAE Transactions , 23 , 217–264. http://www.jstor.org/stable/44437123 De Syon, G. (2008). Is it really better to travel than to arrive? Airline food as a reflection of consumer anxiety. In Food for Thought: Essays on Eating and Culture (pp. 199–207). McFarland. Filburn, T. (2019). Cabin pressurization and air-conditioning. Commercial Aviation in the Jet Era and the Systems That Make It Possible , 45–57. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-20111-1_4 International Air Transport Association. (2024). Global Outlook for Air Transport . https://www.iata.org/en/iata-repository/publications/economic-reports/global-outlook-for-air-transport-june-2024-report/ Let’s Talk Science. (2024). Four Forces of Flight . Let’s Talk Science. https://letstalkscience.ca/educational-resources/backgrounders/four-forces-flight Moskvitch, K. (2015, January 12). Why does food taste different on planes? British Broadcasting Corporation. https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20150112-why-in-flight-food-tastes-weird NASA. (2022). Four forces on an Airplane . Glenn Research Center | NASA. https://www1.grc.nasa.gov/beginners-guide-to-aeronautics/four-forces-on-an-airplane/ National Air and Space Museum. (2022). The Evolution of the Commercial Flying Experience . National Air and Space Museum; Smithsonian. https://airandspace.si.edu/explore/stories/evolution-commercial-flying-experience National Weather Service. (2019). Turbulence . National Weather Service. https://www.weather.gov/source/zhu/ZHU_Training_Page/turbulence_stuff/turbulence/turbulence.htm NOAA. (2023). Air pressure . National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration. https://www.noaa.gov/jetstream/atmosphere/air-pressure Spence, C. (2017). Tasting in the air: A review. International Journal of Gastronomy and Food Science , 9 , 10–15. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijgfs.2017.05.001 Temora Aviation Museum. (2017). DH-82A Tiger Moth . Temora Aviation Museum. https://aviationmuseum.com.au/dh-82a-tiger-moth/ Thai Airways. (2018). THAI launches Michelin Star street food prepared by Jay Fai for Royal Silk Class and Royal First Class passengers . Thai Airways. https://www.thaiairways.com/en_ID/news/news_announcement/news_detail/News33.page Previous article Next article apex back to

< Back to Issue 6 Fire and Brimstone by Jesse Allen 28 May 2024 Edited by Sakura Kojima Illustrated by Aisyah Mohammad Sulhanuddin CW: references to death, religion The year is 1783, and it seems that the end is nigh – at least, that is the impression of Icelandic priest Jón Steingrímsson. His diary offers a striking firsthand account of a fissure eruption which would last around eight months and claim the lives of approximately 9,000 people. These events are characterised by the emergence of molten magma through a crack in the Earth’s crust; and though they might lack the dramatic, Vesuvian spectacle of a typical volcanic eruption, they can be no less devastating (Witt et al., 2018). Steingrímsson recounts how “the ground swelled up with tremendous howling” before “flames and fire erupted” and sent “great blocks of rock and pieces of grass…high into the air”. There could only be one explanation for such apocalyptic scenes: these were surely “the signs of an angry god” (Bressan, 2013). In a last-ditch effort to save the local populace from this act of divine wrath, Steingrímsson held a church service in the town of Kirkjubæjarklaustur – which the relentless magma threatened to engulf – in which he urged repentance and led feverish prayers for mercy. It has gone down in Icelandic folklore as the Eldmessa , or ‘fire mass’ (Andrews, 2018). Since October 2023, Iceland’s Reykjanes Peninsula has been beset with an intense new wave of seismic activity and fissure eruptions (Andrews, 2024). In these ‘rift zones,’ magma can seep upwards through splits in the Earth’s crust towards the surface, forming large dikes and potentially creating multiple vents from which lava fountains can occur (Witt et al., 2018). At the time of writing, the situation has been declared stable by the Icelandic Met Office. But after centuries of dormancy, it has made the extraordinary power residing beneath the surface of our planet abundantly clear to local and international observers alike. It might seem that people are helpless in the face of such raw, elemental forces; all we can do is hope and pray. Yet, thanks to the tireless work of local authorities and dedicated scientists, it has become possible to decode the previously ineffable language of the fiery interior – and save lives in the process (Andrews, 2024). At the heart of this effort lies the Interferometric Synthetic Aperture Radar (InSAR), which enables scientists to map surface deformations and, hence, to infer magma movements (Tolpekin, 2023). This imaging technique records the backscatter of microwave signals as they ‘bounce’ off the surface (European Space Agency, n.d.). When two images are taken of the same location at different times – and then aligned pixel by pixel – the level of deformation can be represented with an interferogram, which functions like a brightly coloured topographic map (NASA, n.d.). This technology has major implications for planning authorities (Ducrocq et al., 2024). The increased frequency and intensity of tremors that began late last year, for instance, heralded the possibility of an imminent eruption. In conjunction with Iceland’s network of over 50 seismographs – ground-based devices which detect movement in all directions – InSAR provided the early warning on November 10 (Icelandic Met Office, n.d.). Beyond measuring the deformation magnitude (around 50 centimetres), scans also showed the localised area that was most likely to be affected, around the town of Grindavik. A state of emergency was declared by the Icelandic government on November 12, and the town was subsequently evacuated. The Reykjanes fissure first erupted in December and has done so three more times since then, as of 19th March 2024 (Baker, 2024). Having lain dormant for centuries, the peninsula could now face decades, even centuries, of heightened volcanic activity (Andrews, 2024). Situated on the ridge between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates, Iceland has long been a hotbed for geologists and other scientists; the most recent eruptions will continue to foster a deeper knowledge of the primordial forces at work beneath the crust. Even technology such as InSAR cannot flawlessly predict where the next fissure will occur, with the systems at work simply too complex and subject to unpredictable changes, nor does it offer the opportunity to tame these forces. But forewarned is forearmed: the lives that have already been saved illuminate the role of scientific understanding as a force for overcoming our powerlessness in the face of the elements. The fury of heaven, as Steingrímsson would surely have it. References Andrews, R.G. (2024, February 20). Inside Scientists’ Life-Saving Prediction of the Iceland Eruption. Quanta Magazine . https://www.quantamagazine.org/inside-scientists-life-saving-prediction-of-the-iceland-eruption-20240220/ Andrews, R.G. (2018, April 4). The Legend of The Icelandic Pastor Who Appeared To Stop A Lava Flow. Forbes . https://www.forbes.com/sites/robinandrews/2018/04/24/the-legend-of-the-icelandic-pastor-who-appeared-to-stop-a-lava-flow/?sh=703ae4301798 Baker, H. (2024, March 19). Iceland volcano: 'Most powerful' eruption yet narrowly misses Grindavik but could still trigger life-threatening toxic gas plume . Live Science. https://www.livescience.com/planet-earth/volcanos/iceland-volcano-most-powerful-eruption-yet-narrowly-misses-grindavik-but-could-still-trigger-life-threatening-toxic-gas-plume Bressan, D. (2013, June 8). June 8, 1783: How the “Laki-eruptions” changed History . Scientific American. https://www.scientificamerican.com/blog/history-of-geology/8-june-1783-how-the-laki-eruptions-changed-history/ Ducrocq, C., Arnadottir, T., Einarsson, P., Jonsson, s., Drouin, V., Geirsson, H., & Hjartadottir, A.R. (2024). Widespread fracture movements during a volcano-tectonic unrest: the Reykjanes Peninsula, Iceland, from 2019-2021 TerraSAR-X intereferometry. Bulletin of Volcanology , 86 (14). https://doi.org/10.1007/s00445-023-01699-0 European Space Agency (n.d.). How does interferometry work? https://www.esa.int/Applications/Observing_the_Earth/How_does_interferometry_work Icelandic Met Office (n.d.). 100 Years of Seismic Observations . https://en.vedur.is/earthquakes-and-volcanism/conferences/jsr-2009/100_years/ NASA (n.d.). Interferometry . https://nisar.jpl.nasa.gov/mission/get-to-know-sar/interferometry/#:~:text=Interferometry%20is%20an%20imaging%20technique,reveal%20surface%20motion%20and%20change . Tolpekin, V. (2023, November 17). ICEYE Interferometric Analysis: Monitoring Potential Volcanic Eruption in Iceland . ICEYE. https://www.iceye.com/blog/iceye-interferometric-analysis-monitoring-potential-volcanic-eruption-in-iceland Witt, T., Walter, R.T., Muller, D., Gudmundsson, M.T., & Schopa, A. (2018). The relationship between lava fountaing and vent morphology for the 2014-2015 Holuhraun eruption, Iceland, analysed by video monitoring and topographic mapping. Frontiers in Earth Science , 6. https://doi.org/10.3389/feart.2018.00235 Previous article Next article Elemental back to