Humans

It started in psychology, but now findings in many scientific fields are proving impossible to replicate. Here’s what researchers are doing to restore science’s reputation

Humans

6 April 2022

By Clare Wilson
Andrea Ucini
I HAVE a confession to make: some of the articles that have appeared in New Scientist, including ones I have written, are wrong. Not because we deliberately misled you. No, our reports were based on research by respected scientists at top universities, published in peer-reviewed journals. Yet, despite meeting all the normal standards of credibility, some findings turned out to be false.
Science is in the throes of what is sometimes called the replication crisis, so named because a big hint that a scientific study is wrong is when other teams try to repeat it and get a different result. While some fields, such as psychology, initially seemed more liable than others to generate such “fake news”, almost every area of science has since come under suspicion. An entire field of genetics has even turned out to be nothing but a mirage. Of course, we should expect testing to overturn some findings. The replication crisis, though, stems from wholesale flaws baked into the systems and institutions that support scientific research, which not only permit bad scientific practices, but actually encourage them. And, if anything, things have been getting worse over the past few decades.
Yet as awareness of the problem has grown, so have efforts to tackle it. So, how are these opposing forces faring? Will the efforts to combat fake science succeed? And how can you know if the research you read about in New Scientist and elsewhere will ever make it out of the lab and start working in the real world?
It is hard to pinpoint when the replication crisis began, but many people got their first … More

A portrait of three intrepid glaciologists brings the reality of climate change and glacial melting into sharp focus in this powerful documentary

Humans

6 April 2022

By Davide Abbatescianni
Leading glaciologist Alun Hubbard descends into a seemingly bottomless crevasseCourtesy of CPH:DOX 2022
Into the Ice
Lars Henrik Ostenfeld
CPH:DOX Film FestivalAdvertisement

A MAJESTIC aerial shot of the Arctic landscape opens Lars Henrik Ostenfeld’s epic documentary Into the Ice. Then his narration hits us with the hard truth: “The Greenland inland ice harbours a secret. You can see our future in it.” As if to illustrate what that future might look like, the camera then pans to deep rivers of meltwater.
The message of Ostenfeld’s film is familiar, yet what sets it apart is its focus on the fieldwork of three of the world’s leading glaciologists: Alun Hubbard, Dorthe Dahl-Jensen and Jason Box. Ostenfeld travels with them, on three separate trips, to the Arctic as they monitor how fast the Greenland ice sheet is melting.
Ostenfeld provides intimate portraits of the researchers, highlighting their distinct personalities and the motivations behind their work. Box is a family man who, when he isn’t playing with his daughter, is happiest digging the snow while listening to ABBA’s hit Chiquitita. Hubbard, the most adventurous of the three, embraces the idea of living every day as “a complete surprise”. His perilous descent into the depths of a seemingly bottomless crevasse is a case in point.
Dahl-Jensen, as Box describes her, is “about science with a capital S” and is dedicated to drilling ice cores as a window into the past. “When you walk through ice, you walk on climate history,” she says. She points to a darker ice layer, which dates from the last glacial period, while a more distant, lighter part is from an interglacial period.
During his time with the researchers, Ostenfeld becomes fully immersed in their work and their mission. His presence is well balanced and respectful, and his feelings of concern, fear and admiration emerge beautifully through his intimate voice-over commentary.
In this way, Ostenfeld achieves his aim of creating a strong empathic bond with the audience. This allows him to deliver a more serious message about the importance of studying changes in the ice as they are happening, no matter how perilous an undertaking it may be.
Throughout, we learn how the study of ice and its history are essential to uncovering the scope and consequences of climate change, and the importance of collecting and analysing data that will help us update our predictions of global sea level rise.
The initial light-hearted tone and good humour of the scientists gradually give way to a more serious feel as the realities of life and work in the Arctic become clear. We see the scientists face a lashing storm that forces them to hide in their tents for two days. And we feel their fear and excitement as they take on the elements to gather data.
The dangers of fieldwork become only too apparent as Box learns of the death of his mentor, climate scientist Konrad Steffen, who fell into an ice crevasse elsewhere in Greenland, on a separate research trip.
Towards the end of the film, Box and Hubbard head back into the deep crevasse to resume their work, only to discover an uncomfortable truth: the meltwater under the ice has progressed to a level never seen before. The glaciers are melting at a faster pace than we thought and our predictions of sea level rise are probably too cautious.
Accompanied by striking imagery and an engaging instrumental score, Into the Ice is a powerful documentary and one of the unmissable titles of this year’s festival season. It doesn’t try to soften the blow or to end on a hopeful note. Instead, it is a touching wake-up call, rich in sincerity and brutal home truths.

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A set of ancient footprints seems to show children splashing around in water that had pooled in tracks left by a now-extinct ground sloth

Humans

6 April 2022

By Colin Barras
A 3D model of footprints discovered at White Sands National Park, New Mexico, created from multiple photographs. It shows the prints of several prehistoric children jostling around the larger marks left by a giant ground slothDavid Bustos/Matthew Bennett
The delight that children find when they jump in muddy puddles has a surprisingly long history. Fossil footprints discovered at an archaeological site in New Mexico show that a group of youngsters living at least 11,500 years ago spent a few carefree minutes engaged in some joyful splashing. But the world was very different back then: the puddles in question had formed in the deep footprints left by a now-extinct giant ground sloth.
The footprints were discovered at White Sands National Park, a site that is rapidly gaining a reputation for its astonishing archaeology. Within the park, there is a playa – a dried up lake-bed – some 100 square kilometres in size. The playa contains thousands of footprints left by humans, mammoths, sabre-toothed cats and other inhabitants of prehistoric North America. Some of the tracks suggest that humans had reached the Americas 23,000 years ago – about 8000 years earlier than we had thought.
But what really sets the ancient human footprints at White Sands apart is their power to vividly show us what life was like for early Americans. Matthew Bennett at Bournemouth University, UK, has been studying tracks at the site for several years. He and his team can measure the prints to work out things like the age of the person who made them and how fast they were walking or running. Then, they can follow them and see how events such as animal hunts unfolded. “It’s written in the tracks what happened,” says Bennett.Advertisement
In unpublished work, Bennett and his team have found one collection of prints that tell a particularly evocative tale. It begins with a set of roughly 40-centimetre-long footprints that show a giant ground sloth – measuring perhaps 3 metres from nose to tail – once lumbered across the landscape.
Later, a group of three to five small children showed up. The jumbled mess of footprints they left are focused around one sloth print. The way the children’s tracks deform the sloth print tells us that the ground was wet, says Bennett. It is impossible to be certain about what was going on, but Bennett says the best interpretation is that water had pooled in the sloth print to create a puddle that was perfect for splashing in – an irresistible target for children, even in prehistory.

Kevin Hatala at Chatham University in Pennsylvania says he is excited to learn more about the tracks once they appear in a formal scientific report. “Records like this demonstrate the unique potential for footprints to record information that is extremely difficult, if not impossible, to observe or infer from other materials such as bones and stone tools,” he says.
Kim Charlie and her sister, Bonnie Leno, have made trips to see Bennett and his colleagues at work, studying the prints. They are both members of the Pueblo of Acoma near Albuquerque in New Mexico, one of several groups of Pueblo people who feel a spiritual connection to White Sands.
Charlie is fascinated by the idea that giant ground sloths were so common in the world inhabited by the first humans at White Sands, who may be among the ancestors of the present-day Pueblo people. “It’s fascinating,” says Charlie. “And you think: jeez, were these animals friendly?”
Sign up to Our Human Story, a free monthly newsletter on the revolution in archaeology and human evolution

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A new wave of archaeological investigations is reconstructing intimate details of our ancestors’ lives from fossilised footprints. They give us glimpses of everything from parent-child relationships to the thrill of a giant sloth hunt

Humans

6 April 2022

By Colin Barras
Rupert Gruber
A YOUNG woman is struggling across a muddy plain with a 3-year-old child on her left hip. She puts the youngster down to catch her breath. But she is too afraid to pause for long. The pair are alone, an easy target for the sabre-toothed cats that may lurk nearby. She picks up the child again and hurries on, vanishing into the distance. For a time, all is quiet. Then a giant ground sloth plods across the path she took. The animal catches the woman’s scent and is instantly on guard, rearing up and turning to scan the landscape for human hunters.
What was it like to live in the Stone Age? There must have been moments of joy, fear, love, pain and perhaps even wonder for the people who inhabited Earth tens of thousands of years ago. But emotions don’t fossilise, so we are shut out of those moments, separated by a vast chasm of time. We can find all the bones and tools we like, but they won’t tell us about the experience of life for our ancient ancestors.
Then again, a new window on their everyday existence may be cracking open. As people went about their lives, they left untold numbers of footprints behind. These recorded their behaviour in a unique way, capturing everything from nervous shuffles to determined sprints. What’s more, the tracks have an order to them, meaning events can be read like a narrative. That story of the woman, the child and the giant sloth is a vivid example we have found written in ancient tracks – but it certainly isn’t the only … More

One of the first excavations to find extinct human remains took place on Java in the 1890s, and the original documentation reveals details about the mudflow that encased the fossils there

Humans

30 March 2022

By Michael Marshall
Archaeological dig in Indonesia where the Java Man fossils were foundpublic domain sourced / access rights from Paul Fearn / Alamy Stock Photo
The first large excavation of ancient human remains in Indonesia, in the 1890s, were done with great care – according to an analysis of unpublished documents from the dig.
The original excavations revealed that Homo erectus on Java lived in a lush valley alongside a range of large animals, including antelope and elephants. Researchers including Paul C. H. Albers at the Naturalis Biodiversity Center in the Netherlands have analysed the records, and they say the animals in the fossil bed … More

Netflix
Watch
Apollo 10 ½ sees Richard Linklater use the hallucinatory animation style of his A Scanner Darkly to tell the fantastical tale of a young space fan living in Houston, Texas, in 1969, when anything felt possible. Via Netflix.

John McKenzie/courtesy the artist and Ingleby Gallery, EdinburghAdvertisement
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Requiem features an urn full of dust gathered by artist Katie Paterson from meteorites, rocks, corals and other detritus. From 9 April, it will be the focal point of an exhibition at the Ingleby Gallery in Edinburgh, UK, that explores our planet’s past and future.

Read
Power in the Wild, by behavioural ecologist Lee Alan Dugatkin, reveals the realpolitik behind the lives of sweet-looking creatures from meerkats to field mice, as he examines the eternal struggle for dominance in nature.

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Feedback is our weekly column of bizarre stories, implausible advertising claims, confusing instructions and more

Humans

30 March 2022

Josie Ford
On Earth …
As a fresh-faced 18-year-old, Michael Owen’s mazy run from the centre circle to score against Argentina in the 1998 World Cup round of 16 raised hopes of a new golden era of English football – “soccer”, we add, looking in no particular direction – just as surely as David Beckham’s subsequent sending-off and the inevitable loss on penalties dashed them. Back then, it was only 32 years of hurt; by now it is getting silly.
Altogether more forward-facing is Owen’s recent reinvention as a crypto guru. “Looks to me like blockchain is here to stay,” he announced last month on Twitter, hence he was working with a blockchain specialist on “a really exciting new football project”.
Rapid reaction on the social media site renowned for rapid unkind reaction was predictably unkind, largely along the lines that Owen possibly didn’t actually know what blockchain is. If so, he is welcome to join our club any time.Advertisement
This seems to follow a trend of ex-elite sportspeople advertising cryptocurrency projects, something we can associate with the ennui and need for new revenue streams associated with being an ex-elite sportsperson. We click further, on our eternal quest for both excitement and enlightenment. “The first Michael Owen official NFT collection comprises of 1233 NFT’s that are available across 5 increasingly exclusive tiers,” we read. We are somewhat the wiser: the blockchain is about football stickers. Welcome to the future.
… as it is in heaven
And much, much good may come of this sort of thing, going by a press release on behalf of a “visionary NFT production house” thrust our way by a colleague with eyes not so much rolling as whirling like pulsars.
collection – although the words quoted are from a press release so don’t appear there. Richard says he didn’t include it as it’s a money-making operation; up to you if you still want to put in, I think it’s fine without “On April 3, they’re launching 30 NFTs from their bestselling ‘Greatest Minds of Our Time’ – pop-art images of inspirational figures, such as Oprah, Elon Musk, and the Dalai Lama – into orbit on SpaceX,” the PR puff breathlessly informs us. “Once in space, passenger Israeli air force pilot Eytan Stibb [sic] will call them up on his tablet and bless them with starlight and cosmic rays. He’ll then ‘drop’ them from space directly into the blockchain collection.”
The selection of great minds of our time is interesting, but the ultimate aim – to auction the widgets off for the benefit of clean-water charities – is laudable. The whole process does strike us as a mite overcomplicated, though, given that starlight and cosmic rays are freely available on Earth. An interesting metaphysical question is, if digital art exists only when constituted as pixels, and is called into life only when in orbit, has it been launched into orbit?
No matter. We detect a whiff of good old performance art in all this, so we will politely just nod and smile.
Small island far away
Ceri Brown writes from Haverfordwest in Wales, querying a Sky News story about the position of Henderson Island, part of the Pitcairn group in the South Pacific that through historical accident finds itself a UK Overseas Territory. Populated largely by native crabs and non-native plastic waste, it is perhaps a measure of the seriousness with which the UK has taken its stewardship up till now that the Royal Navy recently found it situated about 1.5 kilometres to the south of where it thought it was.
“Henderson Island is uninhabited and is about the size of Oxford,” the article states, presumably following the principle of British units for British places. “Could you convert that to fractions of a Berkshire please?” asks Ceri, catching us slightly off guard. No, but in standard Imperial units, it is a smidgen under 2 milliWales. That is if anyone is actually sure how big Henderson Island is.
Atmospheric surge
This admirable effort to make global news local sends us rootling in our piles for a headline from the Essex Live website in the UK sent in by Anthony Jamieson in January. “Essex sees huge atmospheric pressure surge as Hunga Tonga volcanic eruption felt across East Anglia”, it screams, adding in smaller typeface that the pressure in Heybridge, Essex, jumped “from just over 1,023 millibars of pressure to 1,024”. No eardrums burst, we hope.
Out of time
Gerben Wierda writes from the Netherlands currying favour – quite our favourite curryable material – and challenging the orthodoxy that true New Scientist aficionados read the magazine back to front.
“I read NS from front to back,” he says, “but Feedback plays an important role in my NS backlog management. If I come across an issue and I am uncertain if it has been read, I check the first entry in Feedback.” We are thus not only the most memorable bit of the magazine, he says, but “like dessert: that most enjoyable end of a good experience.”
Your cheque is in the post. Of course, we recognise that the true measure of an aficionado of this magazine is a backlog of issues that you always convince yourself you are going to clear. Being stuck on the issue of 9 October 2021 has its advantages, says Gerben. “One can read news articles about the possible rise of the new delta variant of covid-19 and remain in a world that is still blissfully free of war crimes being performed in Ukraine.” We hear you.
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You can send stories to Feedback by email at [email protected]. Please include your home address. This week’s and past Feedbacks can be seen on our website. More

By Elle Hunt

Through Luna the dairy cow, we see the reality of life lived on human termsMubi
Cow
Andrea Arnold
MUBI and Apple TV+Advertisement

MOST documentaries chronicle exceptional lives that anyone would be curious about, or highly ordinary ones that warrant a second look. Andrea Arnold’s new film does both, providing an immersive look into the world of a dairy cow.
Arnold is the celebrated director of projects as diverse as Red Road and Fish Tank, which explore working-class Britain; the Shia LaBeouf epic American Honey; a 2011 adaptation of Wuthering Heights; and episodes of Transparent and Big Little Lies. In Cow, her fifth feature and first documentary, Arnold turns her trademark unflinching gaze on a subject that is both familiar and entirely other: a cow named Luna on a cattle farm in the English countryside.
Six years in the making, the BAFTA-nominated Cow follows Luna in her day-to-day life, from grazing and mating to birthing and milking. It is about as immersive and visceral a depiction of a non-human being as one can imagine, with Arnold filming from Luna’s perspective as much as possible and using zero narration.
For many viewers, the first surprise may be the immediate, easy charisma of her subject: in an early scene, Luna holds the camera’s gaze, mooing insistently, in such a way that it leaves the audience in no doubt about her curiosity and appraising intelligence. Likewise, shots of her caring for her just-born calf and taking obvious pleasure from an open field suggest a multifaceted mind, which is portrayed clearly and without sentimentality.
For an essentially quiet film, sound is used to great effect in Cow. Mournful pop songs by Billie Eilish and others are piped into the milking shed, adding pathos to the scenes of Luna’s everyday life, while snatches of chatter from her largely faceless farmers lend them structure. The emotion we come to feel for Luna, our investment in her well-being, is organic and earned.
The only point where Arnold relaxes her commitment to realism is a late-night mating sequence, set to R&B pop music and with spliced-in fireworks, a moment that concludes with some post-coital cuddling. The surreal comedy of the scene excuses any charge of anthropomorphism, as does the sequence where Luna is being milked on Christmas morning by a farmer wearing a Santa hat, set to the sound of Fairytale of New York.
This is no hard-bitten slaughterhouse exposé: it is clear that Luna is well cared for, even loved. But the life of a dairy cow is, by definition, one that is punctured with sudden violence. Though Cow may not depict the industrial-scale horrors of animal production, Arnold doesn’t shy away from depicting the indignities and intrusions that feature in a dairy cow’s world. An early scene of calves being dehorned with a cauterising iron reportedly had critics at the Sundance film festival covering their eyes.
The end, when it comes, manages to be at once inevitable and shocking – the harshest possible awakening from the dreamlike state viewers have been lulled into. It encapsulates the film’s understated political point: that, from beginning to end, this is a life led entirely on humanity’s terms, for the production of milk and meat. Luna may not suffer more than is essential to the existence of a dairy cow, but is that a price we are willing to accept?
In honouring the sacrifice of one farm animal, Arnold quietly but insistently invokes the spectre of far more – many of which aren’t treated with the same dignity as Luna, even if we choose to remain ignorant of the details.
Empathetic and often unexpectedly moving, Cow may not instantly turn you vegan, as more aggressive accounts of animal production might – but you will never see its subject in the same way again. Equally, having gently led us to assume the bovine gaze, what may be most unsettling is how we see ourselves.

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