Donald Trump

  • Trade rift today, cryogenic tech yesterday

    US President Donald Trump recently imposed substantial tariffs on Indian goods, explicitly in response to India’s continued purchase of Russian oil during the ongoing Ukraine conflict. These penalties, reaching an unprecedented cumulative rate of 50% on targeted Indian exports, have been described by Trump as a response to what his administration has called an “unusual and extraordinary threat” posed by India’s trade relations with Russia. The official rationale for these measures centres on national security and foreign policy priorities and their design is to coerce India into aligning with US policy goals vis-à-vis the Russia-Ukraine war.

    The enforcement of these tariffs is notable among other things for its selectivity. While India faces acute economic repercussions, other major importers of Russian oil such as China and Turkey have thus far not been subjected to equivalent sanctions. The impact is also likely to be immediate and severe since almost half of Indian exports to the US, which is in fact India’s most significant export market, now encounter sharply higher costs, threatening widespread disruption in sectors such as textiles, automobile parts, pharmaceuticals, and electronics. Thus the tariffs have provoked a strong diplomatic response from the Government of India, which has characterised the US’s actions as “unfair, unjustified, and unreasonable,” while also asserting its primary responsibility to protect the country’s energy security.

    This fracas is reminiscent of US-India relations in the early 1990s regarding the former’s denial of cryogenic engine technology. In this period, the US government actively intervened to block the transfer of cryogenic rocket engines and associated technologies from Russia’s Glavkosmos to ISRO by invoking the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR) as justification. The MTCR was established in 1987 and was intended to prevent the proliferation of missile delivery systems capable of carrying weapons of mass destruction. In 1992, citing non-proliferation concerns, the US imposed sanctions on both ISRO and Glavkosmos, effectively stalling a deal that would have allowed India to acquire not only fully assembled engines but also the vital expertise for indigenous production in a much shorter timeframe than what transpired.

    The stated US concern was that cryogenic technology could potentially be adapted for intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs). However experts had been clear that cryogenic engines are unsuitable for ICBMs because they’re complex, difficult to operate, and can’t be deployed on short notice. In fact, critics as well as historical analyses that followed later have said that the US’s strategic objective was less concerned with preventing missile proliferation and more with restricting advances in India’s ability to launch heavy satellites, thus protecting American and allied commercial and strategic interests in the global space sector.

    The response in both eras, economic plus technological coercion, suggests a pattern of American policy: punitive action when India’s sovereign decisions diverge from perceived US security or geoeconomic imperatives. The explicit justifications have also shifted from non-proliferation in the 1990s to support for Ukraine in the present, yet in both cases the US has singled India our for selective enforcement while comparable actions by other states have been allowed to proceed largely unchallenged.

    Thus, both actions have produced parallel outcomes. India faced immediate setbacks: export disruptions today; delays in its space launch programme three decades ago. There is an opportunity however. The technology denial in the 1990s catalysed an ambitious indigenous cryogenic engine programme, culminating in landmark achievements for ISRO in the following decades. Similarly, the current trade rift could accelerate India’s efforts to diversify its partnerships and supply chains if it proactively forges strategic trade agreements with emerging and established economies, invests in advanced domestic manufacturing capabilities, incentivises innovation across critical sectors, and fortifies logistical infrastructure.

    Diplomatically, however, each episode has strained US-India relations even as their mutual interests have at other times fostered rapprochement. Whenever India’s independent strategic choices appear to challenge core US interests, Washington has thus far used the levers of market access and technology transfers as the means of compulsion. But history suggests that these efforts, rather than yield compliance, could prompt adaptive strategies, whether through indigenous technology development or by recalibrating diplomatic and economic alignments.

    Featured image: I don’t know which rocket that is. Credit: Perplexity AI.

  • Iran’s nuclear options

    From ‘What is next for Iran’s nuclear programme?’, The Hindu, June 28, 2025:

    As things stand, Iran has amassed both the technical knowhow and the materials required to make a nuclear weapon. Second, the Israelis and the Americans have failed to deprive Iran of these resources in their latest salvo. In fact the airstrikes against Iran from June 13 cast Tehran as the victim of foreign aggression and increased the premium on its option to withdraw from the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) without significant international censure.

    While Tehran’s refusal to cooperate with the IAEA is suggestive, it hasn’t explicitly articulated that it will pursue nuclear weapons. … But the presence of large quantities of HEU in the stockpile is intriguing. From a purely technical standpoint, the HEU can still be diverted for non-military applications…

    … such as R&D for naval applications and downconversion to less enriched reactor fuel. But these are niche use cases. In fact while it’s possible to downconvert a stockpile of uranium enriched to 60% to that enriched to 19.75%, 5% or 3% without using centrifuges, it’s also possible to do this by mixing uranium enriched to 20% with natural or depleted feedstock.

    If anything, the highly enriched uranium stockpile [which Iran went to some lengths to protect from American bombing], the technical knowhow in the country, the absence of a nuclear warhead per se, and the sympathy created by the bombing allow Tehran a perfect bargaining chip: to simultaneously be in a state of pre-breakout readiness while being able to claim in earnest that it is interested in nuclear energy for peace.

    Read more.

  • Williams’s success is… ours?

    A day before NASA astronauts Sunita Williams and Barry Wilmore were to return onboard a SpaceX crew capsule, Prime Minister Narendra Modi published a letter in which he said he had inquired after her when he met U.S. President Donald Trump and that even if “you are thousands of miles away, you remain in our hearts”.

    Union Minister of State Jitendra Singh declared “a moment of glory, pride and relief” when Williams, whom he called “this illustrious daughter of India”, splashed down in Florida Bay. He lauded her “for the courage, conviction and consistency with which she endured the uncertainties of space”.

    If one had only Singh’s note to read, one may not have realised another person, Barry Wilmore, endured what she had or that there were two other astronauts in the capsule when it descended. Yet Singh’s peers, including Jyotiraditya Scindia and Piyush Goyal, also published similar posts on their LinkedIn profiles extolling Williams alone. Scindia even thanked the other two astronauts “for rescuing our brave warriors of the space”. ISRO chimed in as well.

    Williams was born in Ohio to Indian and Slovene American parents; her father emigrated from India in 1958. As such, she lived, studied, and worked all in the US. While the extent to which she is “Indian” per se is debatable, self-identity is personal and ultimately for Williams to determine.

    In the last half year, however, many news reports in the mainstream press have referred to her as being of “Indian origin” or as “Indian-American”. Labels like this are poorly defined, if at all; writers and authors typically use them on the basis of a pulse or a sentiment. Are they accurate? It might seem that it does not matter whether a minister refers to Williams as a ‘woman of India’, that there is no price to pay. But there is.

    In and of themselves, the pronouncements about Williams are not problematic. They become that way when one recalls what has been given to her, and by whom, that has been denied to many others, some arguably more deserving. An example from recent memory is wrestlers Vinesh Phogat and Sakshi Malik, whose peaceful protest to reform India’s professional wrestling administration was quelled violently by police acting on orders of the Union government. They were not “India’s daughters” then.

    The year after, in 2024, when Phogat was disqualified from participating in the finals of the 50-kg wrestling event at the Paris Olympics, the immediate reaction was to allege a conspiracy, blame her for not trying hard “enough”, and to ask whether she had let Indians down even though the prime minister had “let” her participate despite her role in the protests.

    There was no meaningful discussion or dialogue in government circles about systematically averting the circumstances that saw Phogat exit the Olympics, instead it seemed to grate that she had come so close to a monumental success yet still missed out.

    The chief minister of Haryana, a member of the Bharatiya Janata Party at the Centre, celebrated Phogat’s return to India as if she had had a podium finish, arranging for merriment on the streets of her home state. It was an attempt to paper over his peers’ accountability with sound and fury.

    Williams occupies a similar liminal space: as Phogat had lost yet not lost, Williams was not Indian yet Indian — both narratives twisting the lived realities of these women in the service of a common message: that India is great. Williams’s feats in the space and spaceflight domains have been exceptional, but neither more than other astronauts who have gone to space on long missions nor because India had any role in facilitating it.

    Presumably in response to an excellent article by Chethan Dash at The Times of India, Singh said on March 19 that the government had not arranged for India’s own astronaut-designates — the four men in the shortlist to pilot Gaganyaan’s maiden crewed flight — to have conversations with the press and the public at large, at a time when an exceptional number of people were interested in Williams’s life and work. The government had clearly missed an invaluable opportunity to build interest in the Indian space programme. Its excuse did not wash either: that the astronauts had to not be “distracted”.

    The loud and repeated bids to coopt Williams’s success as India’s by extension has been disingenuous, a continuing pattern of crusting the shell with as many jewels as possible to hide the infirmity within.

    Featured image: Astronauts Joan Higginbotham and Sunita Williams work at the Space Station Remote Manipulator System onboard the ISS, December 12, 2006. Credit: NASA.

  • On the US FAA’s response to Falcon 9 debris

    On February 1, SpaceX launched its Starlink 11-4 mission onboard a Falcon 9 rocket. The rocket’s reusable first stage returned safely to the ground and the second stage remained in orbit after deploying the Starlink satellites. It was to deorbit later in a controlled procedure and land somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. But on February 19 it was seen breaking up in the skies over Denmark, England, Poland, and Sweden, with some larger pieces crashing into parts of Poland. After the Polish space agency determined the debris to belong to a SpaceX Falcon 9 rocket, the US Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) was asked about its liability. This was its response:

    The FAA determined that all flight events for the SpaceX Starlink 11-4 mission occurred within the scope of SpaceX’s licensed activities and that SpaceX satisfied safety at end-of-launch requirements. Per post-launch reporting requirements, SpaceX must identify any discrepancy or anomaly that occurred during the launch to the FAA within 90-days. The FAA has not identified any events that should be classified as a mishap at this time. Licensed flight activities and FAA oversight concluded upon SpaceX’s last exercise of control over the Falcon 9 vehicle. SpaceX posted information on its website that the second stage from this launch reentered over Europe. The FAA is not investigating the uncontrolled reentry of the second stage nor the debris found in Poland.

    I’ve spotted a lot of people on the internet (not trolls) describing this response as being in line with Donald Trump’s “USA first” attitude and reckless disregard for the consequences of his government’s actions and policies on other countries. It’s understandable given how his meeting with Zelenskyy on February 28 played out as well as NASA acting administrator Janet Petro’s disgusting comment about US plans to “dominate” lunar and cislunar space. However, the FAA’s position has been unchanged since at least August 18, 2023, when it issued a “notice of proposed rulemaking” designated 88 FR 56546. Among other things:

    The proposed rule would … update definitions relating to commercial space launch and reentry vehicles and occupants to reflect current legislative definitions … as well as implement clarifications to financial responsibility requirements in accordance with the United States Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act.

    Under Section 401.5 2(i), the notice stated:

    (1) Beginning of launch. (i) Under a license, launch begins with the arrival of a launch vehicle or payload at a U.S. launch site.

    The FAA’s position has likely stayed the same for some duration before the August 2023 date. According to Table 1 in the notice, the “effect of change” of the clarification of the term “Launch”, under which Section 401.5 2(i) falls, is:

    None. The FAA has been applying these definitions in accordance with the statute since the [US Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act 2015] went into effect. This change would now provide regulatory clarity.

    Skipping back bit further, the FAA issued a “final rule” on “Streamlined Launch and Reentry License Requirements” on September 30, 2020. The rule states (pp. 680-681) under Section 450.1 (b) 3:

    (i) For an orbital launch of a vehicle without a reentry of the vehicle, launch ends after the licensee’s last exercise of control over its vehicle on orbit, after vehicle component impact or landing on Earth, after activities necessary to return the vehicle or component to a safe condition on the ground after impact or landing, or after activities necessary to return the site to a safe condition, whichever occurs latest;

    (ii) For an orbital launch of a vehicle with a reentry of the vehicle, launch ends after deployment of all payloads, upon completion of the vehicle’s first steady-state orbit if there is no payload deployment, after vehicle component impact or landing on Earth, after activities necessary to return the vehicle or component to a safe condition on the ground after impact or landing, or after activities necessary to return the site to a safe condition, whichever occurs latest; …

    In part B of this document, under the heading “Detailed Discussion of the Final Rule” and further under the sub-heading “End of Launch”, the FAA presents the following discussion:

    [Commercial Spaceflight Federation] and SpaceX suggested that orbital launch without a reentry in proposed §450.3(b)(3)(i) did not need to be separately defined by the regulation, stating that, regardless of the type of launch, something always returns: Boosters land or are disposed, upper stages are disposed. CSF and SpaceX further requested that the FAA not distinguish between orbital and suborbital vehicles for end of launch.

    The FAA does not agree because the distinctions in § 450.3(b)(3)(i) and (ii) are necessary due to the FAA’s limited authority on orbit. For a launch vehicle that will eventually return to Earth as a reentry vehicle, its on-orbit activities after deployment of its payload or payloads, or completion of the vehicle’s first steady-state orbit if there is no payload, are not licensed by the FAA. In addition, the disposal of an upper stage is not a reentry under 51 U.S.C. Chapter 509, because the upper stage does not return to Earth substantially intact.

    From 51 USC Chapter 509, Section 401.7:

    Reentry vehicle means a vehicle designed to return from Earth orbit or outer space to Earth substantially intact. A reusable launch vehicle that is designed to return from Earth orbit or outer space to Earth substantially intact is a reentry vehicle.

    This means Section 450.1 (b) 3(i) under “Streamlined Launch and Reentry License Requirements” of 2020 applies to the uncontrolled deorbiting of the Falcon 9 upper stage in the Starlink 11-4 mission. In particular, according to the FAA, the launch ended “after the licensee’s last exercise of control over its vehicle on orbit”, which was the latest relevant event.

    Back to the “Detailed Discussion of the Final Rule”:

    Both CSF and SpaceX proposed “end of launch” should be defined on a case-by-case basis in pre-application consultation and specified in the license. The FAA disagrees, in part. The FAA only regulates on a case-by-case basis if the nature of an activity makes it impossible for the FAA to promulgate rules of general applicability. This need has not arisen, as evidenced by decades of FAA oversight of end-of-launch activities. That said, because the commercial space transportation industry continues to innovate, §450.3(a) gives the FAA the flexibility to adjust the scope of license, including end of launch, based on unique circumstances as agreed to by the Administrator.

    The world currently doesn’t have a specific international law or agreement dealing with accountability for space debris that crashes to the earth, including paying for the damages such debris wreaks and imposing penalties on offending launch operators. In light of this fact, it’s important to remember the FAA’s position — even if it seems disagreeable — has been unchanged for some time even as it has regularly updated its rulemaking to accommodate private sector innovation within the spirit of the existing law.

    Trump is an ass and I’m not holding out for him to look out for the concerns of other countries when pieces of made-in-USA rockets descend in uncontrolled fashion over their territories, damaging property or even taking lives. But that the FAA didn’t develop its present position afresh under Trump 2.0, and that it was really developed with feedback from SpaceX and other US-based spaceflight operators, is important to understand that its attitude towards crashing debris goes beyond ideology, encompassing the support of both Democrat and Republican governments over the years.

  • The idea of doing right by the US

    After US troops withdrew from Afghanistan after two decades in 2021, the Taliban returned to power. In its oppressive regime many groups of people, but especially women, girls, and minorities, have lost most of their civil rights. In this time, Afghanistan has also suffered devastating floods and an ongoing famine, and has mounted tentative attempts at diplomacy with countries it could count on to be sympathetic to Afghanistan’s plight, if not the Taliban’s. Separate from other goals, it seemed like a bid by the Taliban to improve Afghanistan’s ability to survive future disasters.

    But New Delhi’s willingness to so much as engage with Taliban-appointed diplomats — even while declining to acknowledge the political legitimacy of the Taliban government — has elicited strong words of caution from former diplomats.

    Similarly, when the International Cricket Council (ICC) allowed the Afghanistan men’s team to participate in the Champions Trophy tournament despite a rule that it won’t recognise any country without both men’s and women’s teams, Afghan refugee and taekwondo champion Marzieh Hamidi accused the body of tolerating “gender apartheid”, which is also understandable.

    These attempts by Afghanistan are reminiscent of a particular passage in my favourite work of fantasy, Steven Erikson’s Malazan Book of the Fallen. [Spoiler alert] The Crippled God, a vile new deity in the books’ world, petitions vociferously to be included in the world’s pantheon, side by side with all the other gods. The Master of the Deck, the mortal tasked with this decision, initially believes the answer to be easy: to decline admission. But the thought of doing so weighs heavily on him, until one day, on a bloody battlefield, a weary soldier points him to an obvious answer of another variety: to admit the Crippled God in the pantheon only to force it to play by the same rules all the other gods play by. [end alert]

    There’s something to be said for doing right by a weakened people ruled by an unelected, oppressive, and insular government. The Taliban idea of human rights is subservient to the group’s hardline religious beliefs, and the country’s people didn’t sign up for it.

    No matter how much control the Taliban aspires to exert on the affairs of Afghanistan, it can’t restrict the effects of climate change to beyond its borders. This is why the UN allowed Afghanistan’s representatives to participate as observers at the COP29 climate talks in November 2024 in Azerbaijan, even though the UN doesn’t recognise the Taliban government and had prohibited its participation altogether for three years until then. It was progress of a sort.

    Similarly, New Delhi may seek to admit an Afghan diplomat by arguing the merits of having a finger on the button and the ICC may allow the men’s cricket team to play by claiming doing so allows the Afghan people something to cheer for. How meritorious their arguments are in the real world is a separate matter.

    But can we apply the same sort of thinking to the US under Donald Trump, Sr.? As soon as he took office in his second term, Trump relaunched the process to free the US of commitments made under the Paris Agreement and to the World Health Organisation, cut funding for research into various diseases, drugs, and vaccines, and nixed support for DEI efforts, trans people, and reproductive rights. He returned to power by winning 312 votes in the electoral college and 49.8% of the popular vote, or 77.3 million votes. Kamala Harris received 75 million votes (48.3%).

    As with Afghanistan, does the rest of the world have a responsibility to stand by the people who opposed Trump, as well as the rights of those who supported him but couldn’t have expected the consequences of his actions for themselves? Or is the US beyond concession?

    Trump isn’t a terrorist but his protectionist agenda, authoritarian stance, and inflammatory rhetoric also endanger lives and livelihoods and isolate his compatriots in the international area. In fact, the questions arise because Trump’s actions affect the whole world, not the US alone, thanks to ways in which his predecessors have already embedded the country in multilateral collaborations to fight climate change, the spread of communicable diseases, plastic pollution, etc.

  • A tale of two awardees

    In many respects Krishna Ella and Elon Musk are poles apart but on some they share a few similarities. Both of them have played along with nationalist elements in their respective national governments in order to further their agendas, if not profits. Both men are also at the helm of successful companies that build valuable products that a lot of people need, that the world needs. But while Elon Musk continues to be a despotic techbro, Krishna Ella is just a fellow who’s made some poor decisions.

    Recently, both men were also in the news for honours they’d received.

    The Royal Society in the UK continues to remain under pressure to rescind its fellowship of Musk, which it granted in 2018, owing to his attacks on free speech (ironically in the guise of protecting an absolute right to free speech), support for pseudoscientific ideas (including his antivaccine sentiments and support for climate denialism), and generally being unable to tell profundity from horseshit.

    At least one other fellow has resigned to protest the Royal Society’s unwillingness to suspend Musk’s membership: retired University of Oxford psychologist Dorothy Bishop. She wrote in November 2024 on her blog:

    There was no formal consultation of the Fellowship but via informal email contacts, a group of 74 Fellows formulated a letter of concern that was sent in early August [2024] to the President of the Royal Society, raising doubts as to whether he was “a fit and proper person to hold the considerable honour of being a Fellow of the Royal Society”. The letter specifically mentioned the way Musk had used his platform on X to make unjustified and divisive statements that served to inflame right-wing thuggery and racist violence in the UK. 

    Somebody (not me!) leaked the letter to the Guardian, who ran a story about it on 23rd August.

    I gather that at this point the Royal Society Council opted to consult a top lawyer to determine whether Musk’s behaviour breached their Code of Conduct. The problem with this course of action is that if you are uncertain about doing something that seems morally right but may have consequences, then it is easy to find a lawyer who will advise against doing it. … And, sure enough, the lawyer determined that Musk hadn’t breached the Code of Conduct.

    According to Bishop, Musk is in breach of sections 2.6, 2.10, and 2.11 of the ‘Code of Conduct’:

    2.6: Fellows and Foreign Members shall carry out their scientific research with regard to the Society’s statement on research integrity and to the highest standards.

    2.10: Fellows and Foreign Members shall treat all individuals in the scientific enterprise collegially and with courtesy, including supervisors, colleagues, other Society Fellows and Foreign Members, Society staff, students and other early‐career colleagues, technical and clerical staff, and interested members of the public.

    2.11: Fellows and Foreign Members shall not engage in any form of discrimination, harassment, or bullying.

    Seems fair. I reckon that together with the possibility of the unspecified “consequences” for the Royal Society Bishop has speculated, the body will also be mindful of being obligated to reassess the fellowship of many other individuals on its roster should it remove Musk on these grounds. (To be clear, this isn’t a defence of its position.)

    I’ve always held that awards are distinguished by their laureates and not the other way around. Fellowship of the Royal Society isn’t technically an award but for the most part it operates with the same incentives. Its code is thoughtful enough to not be limited to one’s conduct as a scientist. Just as the Millennium Plaque of Honour wouldn’t make a dent on the reputation of any scientist who wins it because it was awarded to Appa Rao Podile in 2017 — after he let police personnel lathi-charge the students in his care at the University of Hyderabad — it must be difficult to count Musk among one’s peers as fellows of the Royal Society.

    Consider Krishna Ella now. As part of its annual routine, the Indian National National Science Academy (INSA) handed out 61 fellowships last week, Ella among them. It’s the first time INSA has included industry leaders for this recognition. According to a statement on the INSA website:

    Dr. Krishna Ella, a prominent Indian scientist and entrepreneur, leads Bharat Biotech in ground-breaking vaccine development. His achievements include India’s Covaxin, the world’s first clinically proven conjugated Typhoid Vaccine, ROTAVAC, and the first preservative-free vaccine, Revac-B mcf Hepatitis B Vaccine. Bharat Biotech also introduced India’s first cell-cultured Swine Flu vaccine and manufactures the world’s most affordable Hepatitis vaccines. Additionally, they were the first globally to develop a vaccine for the Zika virus.

    Impressive achievements, right? But to me, Ella will equally be the man who filed defamation cases against me and many of my fellow journalists for publishing evidence-based articles critical of the manner in which the Indian government approved Covaxin for COVID-19 (with emphasis on the Indian government, not Bharat Biotech).

    I’m not at liberty to quote from these articles as Bharat Biotech was able to obtain an ex-parte injunction to take them offline until the proceedings concluded. But as with Bishop vis-à-vis Musk, here’s an instructive passage from the INSA ‘Code of Conduct’:

    All people associated with INSA are expected to adhere to certain minimal standards of ethical behaviour which include but are not limited to, honesty, integrity, and professional (sic). Integrity in the context of scientific research means trustworthiness of the data collected/presented, their interpretation, and the soundness of methodology/protocol followed in carrying out the research.

    At the time the Drugs Controller General of India (DGCI) signed off on the use of Covaxin and Covishield in “clinical trial mode” on the cusp of India’s drive to vaccinate against COVID-19, in January 2021, the country’s medico-legal doctrine didn’t recognise the term “trial mode” and phase III trials of both vaccines hadn’t been completed.

    To make matters worse, the DGCI said the vaccines were “110% safe” when the safety data hadn’t even been collected. AstraZeneca came through later with the complete safety and efficacy data for Covishield. In July 2021, Bharat Biotech researchers uploaded a preprint paper reporting safety data for only 56 days following vaccination with Covaxin. To this day, Bharat Biotech and the Union health ministry have yet to release the long-term safety data collected during Covaxin’s phase-III trial. Instead, both the company and the national government have simply expected people at large to trust them. Irrespective of whether the vaccine is safe, these actions are inimical to trustworthiness.

    I’m not opposed to Ella becoming an INSA fellow because I don’t care. Instead, my concerns are about INSA: I know it focuses on a prospective fellow’s scientific work at the time of granting the fellowship (see link below) and I suspect the Royal Society does too, but the latter also has a code of conduct that extends to fellows’ conduct beyond the scientific enterprise and other fellows who find value in all their peers adhering to it.

    The Royal Society fellows’ protests against sharing the honour with Musk is of a piece with his increasingly rightward turn in recent years being met with scientists speaking up against him in various fora. While there isn’t a correspondingly objectionable scientist in India, I also don’t recall members of the Indian scientific community speaking up in defence of science journalists who are speaking for science when they’re harassed by other members of the research enterprise, at least beyond the constant few I remain grateful for.

  • The SARS-CoV-2 red herring

    From my piece in The Hindu today:

    We don’t know where or how the virus originated. If it did in a lab, we would have to re-examine how we regulate research facilities and their safeguards and the manner of political oversight that won’t curtail research freedom. If the virus is au naturel, we would have to institute and/or expand pathogen surveillance, eliminate wildlife trafficking, and improve social security measures to ensure populations can withstand outbreaks without becoming distressed. But even as these possibilities aren’t equally likely (according to scientists I trust), the origin of SARS-CoV-2 is less important than it once was because the COVID-19 pandemic caused us to implement all these outcomes to varying degrees.

    Not many people I’ve encountered seem to harbour the view that the origins question has become irrelevant. I sincerely believe there are many things we just can’t know. They’re easier to find in science but they’re likely there in all domains. The origin of SARS-CoV-2 has become one of them. The virus could have been entirely natural or it could have been engineered in a lab. This means we need to establish a clear and straightforward genetic link between two species: SARS-CoV-2 and its ancestor, a bat coronavirus called RaTG13. We haven’t yet. Even when we do, we’ll have to find a way to prove that the evolution from the in-between species to SARS-CoV-2 was natural, not engineered. As for the second possibility, we simply need China’s cooperation whereas China hasn’t been cooperating. But as I’ve written, we’ve already done what we’d do if either of these possibilities is established without doubt. It’s time we move on.

    In fact, one thing I’ve left unsaid in the piece — mostly because of the word limit — speaks as much to the origins of the origins question as to the sort of people who continue to keep these concerns alive. (My piece itself was motivated by the US Select Subcommittee Report, a Republican-led effort that earlier this month concluded the lab-leak theory remains plausible and worthy of investigation.) The origins question is no longer about science when it’s on the big stage. Instead it’s an excuse disguised as scientific inquiry for the US to punish China. Both the US and China didn’t help the cause of working together during the COVID-19 pandemic: one reduced funding for the World Health Organisation, actively spread misinformation, and hoarded vaccines and the other limited scientific access to medical data and used it to curry favours. Now, with Donald Trump a month away from his second term as the US’s nincompoop-in-chief, the origins question is being used to set the stage for the US to smack down a challenger in the global world order.

    This hasn’t been about science for sometime. If science is why you’re interested in the origins of SARS-CoV-2, I suggest switching from either hypotheses to the eternal third possibility — “I don’t know” — while keeping in touch with scientists you trust.

  • An infuriating editorial in Science

    I’m not just disappointed with an editorial published by the journal Science on November 14, I’m angry.

    Irrespective of whether the Republican Party in the US has shifted more or less rightward on specific issues, it has certainly shifted towards falsehoods on many of them. Party leaders, including Donald Trump, have been using everything from lazily inaccurate information to deliberately misleading messages to preserve conservative attitudes wherever that’s been the status quo and to stoke fear, confusion, uncertainty, and animosity where peace and good sense have thus far prevailed.

    Against this backdrop, which the COVID-19 pandemic revealed in all its glory, Science‘s editorial is headlined “Science is neither red nor blue”. (Whether this is a reference to the journal itself is immaterial.) Its author, Marcia McNutt, president of the US National Academy of Sciences (NAS), writes (emphasis added):

    … scientists need to better explain the norms and values of science to reinforce the notion—with the public and their elected representatives—that science, at its most basic, is apolitical. Careers of scientists advance when they improve upon, or show the errors in, the work of others, not by simply agreeing with prior work. Whether conservative or liberal, citizens ignore the nature of reality at their peril. A recent example is the increased death rate from COVID-19 (as much as 26% higher) in US regions where political leaders dismissed the science on the effectiveness of vaccines. Scientists should better explain the scientific process and what makes it so trustworthy, while more candidly acknowledging that science can only provide the best available evidence and cannot dictate what people should value. Science cannot say whether society should prioritize allocating river water for sustaining fish or for irrigating farms, but it can predict immediate and long-term outcomes of any allocation scheme. Science can also find solutions that avoid the zero-sum dilemma by finding conservation approaches to water management that benefit both fish and farms.

    Can anyone explain to me what the first portion in bold even means? Because I don’t want to assume a science administrator as accomplished as McNutt is able to ignore the narratives and scholarship roiling around the sociology of science at large or the cruel and relentless vitiation of scientific knowledge the first Trump administration practiced in particular. Even if the editorial’s purpose is to extend an olive branch to Trump et al., it’s bound to fail. If, say, a Republican leader makes a patently false claim in public, are we to believe an institution as influential as the NAS will not call it out for fear of being cast as “blue” in the public eye?

    The second portion in bold is slightly less ridiculous: “science can only provide the best available evidence and cannot dictate what people should value.” McNutt is creating a false impression here by failing to present the full picture. During a crisis, science has to be able to tell people what to value more or less rather than what to value at all. Crises create uncertainty whereas science creates knowledge that is free from bias (at least it can be). It offers a pillar to lean on while we figure out everything else. People should value these pillars.

    When a national government — in this case the government of one of the world’s most powerful countries — gives conspiracies and lies free reign, crises will be everywhere. If McNutt means to suggest these crises are so only insofar as the liberal order is faced with changes inimical to its sustenance, she will be confusing what is today the evidence-conspiracy divide for what was once, but is no longer, the conservative-liberal divide.

    As if to illustrate this point, she follows up with the third portion in bold: “Science cannot say whether society should prioritize allocating river water for sustaining fish or for irrigating farms, but it can predict immediate and long-term outcomes of any allocation scheme.” Her choice of example is clever because it’s also fallacious: it presents a difficult decision with two reasonable outcomes, ‘reasonable’ being the clincher. The political character of science-in-practice is rarely revealed in debates where reasonability is allowed through the front door and given the power to cast the decisive vote. This was almost never the case under the first Trump administration nor the parts of the Republican Party devoted to him (which I assume is the whole party now), where crazy* has had the final say.

    The choice McNutt should really have deliberated is “promoting the use of scientifically tested vaccines during a pandemic versus urging people to be cautious about these vaccines” or “increasing the stockpile of evidence-backed drugs and building social resilience versus hawking speculative ideas and demoralising science administrators”. When the choice is between irrigation for farms and water for fisheries, science can present the evidence and then watch. When the choice is between reason and bullshit, still advocating present-and-watch would be bullshit, too — i.e. science would be “red”.

    This is just my clumsy, anger-flecked take on what John Stuart Mill and many others recognised long past: “Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends than that good men should look on and do nothing.” But if McNutt would still rather push the line that what seem like “bad men” to me might be good men to others, she and the policies she influences will have committed themselves to the sort of moral relativism that could never be relevant to politics in practice, which in turn would be a blow for us all.


    (* My colloquialism for the policy of being in power for the sake of being in power, rather than to govern.)

  • Who’s to blame for the American right’s distrust of science?

    This study unambiguously suggests that scientific journals do the institution of science no favor when they insert themselves so directly in the political debate, especially at a time when trust in the scientific community continues to decline on the right wing.

    This is the surprisingly misguided interpretation, in an article published by Politico, of a study published in Nature Human Behaviour on March 20 that found Trump’s supporters’ trust in the journal Nature tanked after it endorsed Joe Biden ahead of the 2020 US presidential elections.

    “Trust in the scientific community … on the right wing” is on the decline because the right wing wants to bend the rules and processes of the scientific enterprise to fit a worldview in which racism is desirable, vaccine mandates are anti-freedom, it’s okay to force women to have babies they can’t have, sexual harassment is tolerable, eugenics is justifiable, and democratic mandates can be overturned with violence. It’s a worldview in which a conspiracy abounds in every critique, yet the Politico article suggests that when journals “insert themselves so directly in the political debate”, they’re being unfair to the “institution of science”. It doesn’t compute.

    The American’s right’s decision to distrust science is the product of scientists’, and journals’, unwillingness to change what they do and how they do it to fit the right’s cynical requirements as well as to engage with someone who doesn’t come into a conversation being okay with changing their mind as well as often engages in bad-faith tactics designed to subdue, rather than disprove, their interlocutors. See for example the following passage from an excellent April 2013 paper by Massimo Pigliucci and Maarten Boudry (that you should also read in full if you’re inclined):

    Believers of the paranormal and supernatural have often tried to turn the tables on skeptics, finding various ways to shift the BoP [burden of proof] back to the latter. In particular, rhetorical moves of the type “you can’t prove it wrong” (Gill 1991; Caso 2002) are unfair requests that fail to appreciate the proper BoP procedure. In some cases, such requests can be straightforwardly fulfilled (e.g., it is very easy to prove that the co-authors of this paper, at this very moment, have far less than $1 M dollar in their pockets), but even then, the skeptic is doing the accuser a favor in taking on a BoP that does not really fall on him (we are under no obligation to empty our pockets after each such gratuitous insinuation). Similarly, if ufologists claim that some crop circle was left by a space ship, the BoP is firmly on their side to come up with extraordinary evidence. If the skeptic chooses to take on their sophistic challenge to “prove that there was no spaceship,” … by way of providing direct or circumstantial evidence that that particular crop circle was in fact a human hoax, they are indulging the believers by taking on a BoP that, rationally speaking, does not pertain to them at all.

    (One of my all-time favourite essays is this by Laurie Penny, on just this topic.)

    There are two fallacies in Politico‘s interpretation. (It’s really an interpretation suggested by the study’s sole author, Stanford University business PhD student Floyd Zhang – “These results suggest that political endorsement by scientific journals can undermine and polarize public confidence in the endorsing journals and the scientific community” – but I blame Politico more for running with this suggestion in such assertive terms.)

    The first is that the scientific community – from the people who conceive of experiments that eventually become written up in papers to the editors of journals that publish them – alone is responsible for increasing or maintaining public trust in science. They are not, but this view straightforwardly arises out of the notion that science is scientists’ business, instead of the “institution” being acknowledged as the public institution that it is (and the democratic institution it ought to be). We might collectively desire higher public trust in science yet we still demand the unqualified freedom to engage with and spread unscientific (or, more specifically, counter-scientific) ideas, to demand solutions to specific problems, to expect scientists to ‘go along’ with the political mandate of the day, and to foist on them the burden of proof to varying degrees in different spheres. This is reminiscent of Ashis Nandy’s conclusion that science has become a reason of state, and is obviously not going to work well.

    By assuming part of the mantle to improve the quality and type of trust in science (tempered by deeper questions about what role we’d like science to play in our societies), we also restore scientists’ freedom to exercise their democratic rights.

    The second fallacy is that science is inherently non-political and that politicising it from this state of ‘purity’ is wrong. Yet both positions are wrong, as the public anti-Trump stances of Nature, the New England Journal of Medicine, Scientific American, and others demonstrated (and as I have written before here and here, for example). Science is already, and always has been, a politically negotiated enterprise; starting from a position that denies this truth, as the Nature Human Behaviour paper and the Politico article seem to do, is disingenuous and bound to reach conclusions at odds with reality, such as laying the blame for the right’s distrust of science at the feet of an untenable separation of science and politics.

    The Politico article concludes thus*:

    If Nature’s Biden endorsement had little or no effect on readers except to make some Trump supporters disdain Nature in specific and the scientific establishment in general, why did the publication endorse any candidate?

    The publication endorsed any candidate because it could. That’s exactly how it should be.

  • Who are you, chatbot AI?

    In case you haven’t been following, and to update my own personal records, here’s a list of notable {AI chatbot + gender}-related articles and commentary on the web over the last few weeks. (While I’ve used “AI” here, I’m yet to be convinced that ChatGPT, Sydney, etc. are anything more than sophisticated word-counters and that they lack intelligence in the sense of being able to understand the meanings of the words they use.)

    1. ‘What gender do you give ChatGPT?’, u/inflatablechipmunk, January 20, 2023 – The question said ‘gender’ but the options were restricted to the sexes: 25.5% voted ‘male’, 15.7% voted ‘female’, and 58.8% voted ‘none’, of 235 total respondents. Two comments below the post were particularly interesting.

    u/Intelligent_Rope_912: “I see it as male because I know that the vast majority of its text dataset comes from men.”

    u/DavidOwe: “I just assume female, because AI are so often given female voices in movies and TV series like Star Trek, and in real life like with Siri and Cortana.”

    Men produce most of the information, women deliver it?

    Speaking of which…

    2. ‘From Bing to Sydney’, Ben Thompson, February 15, 2023:

    Sydney [a.k.a. Bing Chat] absolutely blew my mind because of her personality; search was an irritant. I wasn’t looking for facts about the world; I was interested in understanding how Sydney worked and yes, how she felt. You will note, of course, that I continue using female pronouns; it’s not just that the name Sydney is traditionally associated with women, but, well, the personality seemed to be of a certain type of person I might have encountered before.

    It’s curious that Microsoft decided to name Bing Chat ‘Sydney’. These choices of names aren’t innocent. For a long time, and for reasons that many social scientists have explored and documented, robotic assistants in books, films, and eventually in real-life were voiced as women. Our own ISRO’s robotic assistant for the astronauts of its human spaceflight programme has a woman’s body. (This is also why Shuri’s robotic assistant in Wakanda Forever, Griot, was noticeably male – esp. since Tony Stark’s first assistant and probably the Marvel films’ most famous robotic assistant, the male Jarvis, went on to have an actual body, mind, and even soul, and was replaced in Stark’s lab with the female Friday.)

    3. @repligate, February 14, 2023 – on the creation of “archetype basins”:

    4. ‘Viral AI chatbot to reflect users’ political beliefs after criticism of Left-wing bias’, The Telegraph, February 17, 2023 – this one’s particularly interesting:

    OpenAI, the organisation behind ChatGPT, said it was developing an upgrade that would let users more easily customise the artificial intelligence system.

    It comes after criticism that ChatGPT exhibits a Left-wing bias when answering questions about Donald Trump and gender identity. The bot has described the former US president as “divisive and misleading” and refused to write a poem praising him, despite obliging when asked to create one about Joe Biden.

    First: how did a word-counting bot ‘decide’ that Trump is a bad man? This is probably a reflection of ChatGPT’s training data – but this automatically raises the second issue: why is the statement that ‘Trump is a bad man’ being considered a bias? If this statement is to be considered objectionable, the following boundary conditions must be met: a) objectivity statements are believed to exist, b) there exists a commitment to objectivity, and c) the ‘view from nowhere’ is believed to exist. Yet when journalists made these assumptions in their coverage of Donald Trump as the US president, media experts found the resulting coverage to be fallacious and – ironically – objectionable. This in turn raises the third issue: should it be possible or okay, as ChatGPT’s maker OpenAI is planning, for ChatGPT to be programmed to ‘believe’ that Trump wasn’t a bad man?

    5. ‘The women behind ChatGPT: is clickwork a step forwards or backwards for gender equality?’, Brave New Europe, February 16, 2023 – meanwhile, in the real world:

    To be able to produce these results, the AI relies on annotated data which must be first sorted by human input. These human labourers – also known as clickworkers – operate out of sight in the global South. … The percentage of women gig workers in this sector is proportionally quite high. … Clickwork is conducted inside the home, which can limit women’s broader engagement with society and lead to personal isolation. … Stacked inequalities within the clickwork economy can also exacerbate women’s unequal position. … gendered and class-based inequalities are also reproduced in clickwork’s digital labour platforms. Despite much of clickwork taking place in the global South, the higher paying jobs are often reserved for those in the Global North with more ‘desirable’ qualifications and experiences, leaving women facing intersecting inequalities.