Science near Market & Powell

Except for the briefcase I carried, I was probably indistinguishable from most others in the herds riding BARTD in and out of San Francisco. I did not want to spend four or more hours driving to and from San Francisco, so I decided to get on BARTD at its nearest station (63 miles from here). It might not save a lot of time, but it would reduce the stress and cost of a long commute. Of course, savings always cost something, so I had to worry about my car being vandalized or stolen while parked in an unfamiliar city. I was lucky: my commutes were uneventful.

As a young man, voting in Berkeley, I had supported the bond issues that built BARTD. In the beginning, it was a technological marvel. The cars were plush and quiet. The riders were the suited middle class of another day. But, in peering out the windows, I was struck by how paved over the Bay Area had become since I first arrived there in 1962. I was reminded that an old man had complained to me how things changed since he had arrived after World War II. A long time ago, when I was young, El Cerrito was an outer suburb; now it is inner city. The BARTD cars had also been urbanized. The seats were not as plush, and the carpets were stained and worn. The wheels shrieked on turns. The ride under San Francisco Bay was hair raising because of the air pressure, fan noise, howling motors and screaming wheels. People having a conversation had to yell to be heard. My old ears do not hear well, so the yelling just added to the nearly intolerable noise. I should have worn ear muffs. I wondered whether anyone had sued BARTD for hearing loss.

BARTD is no longer Montgomery Street. Those folks ride their car pools or limos to work. Those who can afford to pay $40 or $50 a day for the few available parking places drive their cars. Those folks are not on BARTD, which has become the working class way to go. I noticed, for example, a man and woman riding into town together who were obviously AAAS attendees. We were pushed together in a very crowded car, so I overhead pieces of their conversation. The confident, mature man - maybe late 30s or early 40s - in the blue blazer was extolling the virtues of "restructuring" Europe to a somewhat younger lady in a flaunty dress - something middle class ladies wear to look as if they are or were hippies, a little loose. Something was going on here, but they weren't married to each other. Unable to get away from whatever it was, I felt increasingly oppressed by whatever I could decipher of that fellow's arrogant spiel. Near the end of the trip, just as the screeching howl under the Bay was subsiding, I said: "Excuse me, but I cannot help overhearing your moaning about Europe needed restructuring. That's what you're saying, isn't it?" He nodded. Then said, "You know, maybe what's needed in Europe is LESS CAPITALISM." He began to frown. "Maybe there's nothing wrong with Europe. May America ought to be restructured. Maybe the United States should be more like Europe!" The frown had turned into a scowl. The lady looked shocked, took a breath, then exclaimed "What are we supposed to do?" I replied, "Reduce the population ..." We were arriving at Montgomery, just before Powell. The man said something like 'wasn't it time to get off?' as he was obviously uncomfortable with my presence. The lady told him it was Powell they wanted. There wasn't any room left for more words. The train started. The couple hastened off as soon as the car stopped at Powell.

On Sunday evening, when I left for the last time, I noticed large mounds of luggage being collected on the sidewalk. This was to be loaded on buses and vans headed for airport. In the AAAS announcements, directions for getting to and from SFO on BARTD were prominent. These days, BARTD connects to everything in the way of public and private mass transportation, but very few of those attending the convention used BARTD. On the other hand, visitors to the S.F. Bay Area, are suckers for the cable cars which bring them to or near North Beach, China Town  and the Embarcadero. This was a convention whose theme was all the dimensions of sustainability, including pleas and plans for more mass transit and fewer cars.

What I came to call "The Disconnect" hit full force during Friday's symposia, and continued through Saturday morning. I left dismayed and angry from those sessions. I had picked out the ones in which ethics was slated to play a role, but I didn't hear much about ethics there. In fact, it seemed to me some of our leading professors were benighted when it comes to ethics. One fellow, for example, agreed that nothing would be done about the environment unless most people were motivated by moral suasion, and promptly palmed that job off onto ministers and priests. His view was that ethics is a branch of theology, so without religion environmental problems are insoluble.

There were three things desperately wrong with the presentations. First, we were overloaded with facts, figures and theories, as if those in attendance were unaware of the various environmental problems - especially climate change. Of course, what scientists are supposed to do is produce the knowledge falling as hail stones on all those present. Second, there was the usual detached attitude, 'Well, here it is; you do whatever you want with it.' Despite the acknowledged catastrophic consequences implied by their theories, the presenters felt helpless about preventing or changing outcomes: 'Not my bailiwick.' Third, the social scientists were busy telling us how institutions work, but not how to change them. To the extent that there was any suggestion that would effect change, it came down to influencing politicians who would impose the desired solutions: 'Pass the Buck.'

The ethical ideas presented were all "top down." The assumption was that ordinary people would behave as expected, if the proper mechanisms were found to motivate them. On the other hand, the elite classes, such as wealthy investors, business owners and managers had to be paid off. Much attention was paid to finding win-win solutions for business.

I found all of that obnoxious. In the questions and answers, I repeatedly tried to present my view that ordinary people, and especially small business owners, are just going to vote with their feet. The lower classes don't have the income or wherewithal to make the sacrifices required to bring about a sustainable economy. There is a big difference between giving up the SUV, and not making enough to survive, to eat, to pay medical bills. Most of the presenters just didn't "get it." They were not willing to spend the time and effort required to find out what is really going on among the people.

To their credit, a  few of the professionals tried to raise similar questions. It was pointed out several times that there was an underlying problem of overpopulation. None of the presenters had any solution to his problem. Some of them admitted feeling that touching the population button would be suicidal. In addition to overpopulation, the issues of income and wealth distribution, and social mobility and stratification were brought up. Although one presenter felt Capitalism would have to be restrained to solve some of those problems, no one was willing to advocate a suitably regulated economy. The basic philosophy underlying the social science presented was individualistic and voluntaristic. Within that framework, there is nothing science can say about population control or correcting unhealthy demographic profiles. But, at least, it was comforting for me to learn I wasn't the only one aware of the inadequacies of the "solutions" presented. Some of us were left truly frustrated by the minimalism of the expert community.

On Saturday, and more Sunday, I was buoyed up by attending the poster sessions. On Saturday, it was the graduate students and then, on Sunday, it was individual investigators. Here I found my milieu and medium. Poster sessions are one on one presentations by those who are not celebrities. Poster sessions are filled with oddballs, dissenters, and crazy people, as well as the ambitious and bootlickers. Poster sessions are the knowledge agora, in which bargains are discovered, made and lost. I immensely enjoyed these presentations and the give-and-take of discussion. I found a few graduate students who I think are exceptionally creative. I also found some who are time servers. I think they will go on to have very different careers, but the creative types will have a harder time of it. It was plainly obvious to me just how young people are lured into a life of conformity in the midst of a world of prima donnas. The institutions have to bring most of the young within their confines to survive. This is the interesting, stupefying contradiction of the University. Were I a professor, I know who I would want to snatch up into my following. Mentoring a graduate student is like pregnancy: a desperate hope for the future, despite the painful abuses those about to be born impose on the parent. There has to be an exceptional result to make the suffering worth it.

The "adult" poster session is filled with grumblers, dissenters and possible idiots or geniuses: people on the way up, people on the way down, and those just floating around. I feel most at home among these people. This group is staunch in its presentation of its ideas and defense of its methods. Even the strangest questions are answered directly and forcibly. Most poster presenters will tell you if your question is irrelevant or inappropriate, and encourage you to review your understanding of the project. Discussion is the key element of the poster session. It is where things are sorted out and fitted in. One graduate student invented a new idea on the spot to fix up a problem in his theory. An investigator outlined how his theory dovetailed with some research in which I was involved 30 years ago! Another scientist was very able in defense of his method, which exposed some of our philosophical assumptions and arguments about scientific truth. All of these conversations and arguments were not just entertaining: they left me with a pile of literature to read and review and some new ideas to investigate.

There is something about the direct interchange - the Socratic discussion - that is not only enlightening but uplifting. At the end of the day, having spent hours and hours engaging  my peers, I felt good about myself and those I met. It was this that made the cost and effort of the annual meeting worthwhile. I was the same experience I used to get at Sproul Hall Plaza some 40 years ago. We really ought to have more of this poster session sort of thing going on in our society.