PET projects: can nature destroy plastic pollution?

One of key markers of the Anthropocene - the as yet unofficial term for a human-impacted global environment - is the deposition of manmade pollutants on land and in the oceans. A prominent component of these pollutants is plastic-based consumer waste; as I mentioned in March 2010, the UK was then using 17.5 billion plastic bags each year. Happily, the introduction of a charge on lightweight plastic shopping bags in the UK has reduced usage by a fantastic 85%. Various nations have introduced similar or even better legislation, but unfortunately in that key polluter the USA only California has had any success in overcoming corporate lobbying. The situation in Trump's America looks unlikely to change any time soon, since several states have even prohibited such bans at a county level!

Therefore, despite the best endeavours of some nations, most recently Kenya, around 80 million tonnes of polyethylene-based packaging and bags are still being produced worldwide each year. The amount that is recycled varies considerably from nation to nation, with the US Environmental Protection Agency recording only 12% of America's plastic as being recycled. As a result, it is estimated that about 12 million tonnes of plastic is annually deposited in the oceans, with even deep-sea species found to have been contaminated.

We've all seen images of beaches on the most remote, uninhabited islands smothered by tiny, multicoloured pieces of plastic, but apart from being unsightly, what are the potential dangers to the global ecosystem and humans in particular? By ingesting plastics, animals risk either choking or starving to death, or being poisoned by chemicals leaching from the material. Even if the latter doesn't quickly kill the critter (which could be anything from sea birds to turtles to baleen whales), substances such as Bisphenol A can build up in their system. In addition to the damage caused to the animals themselves, toxins can upset a species' reproductive cycle. For instance, some of the leached chemicals mimic estrogen, potentially inhibiting development of male offspring.

Of course, with such a range of species being affected, isn't it feasible that there will be knock-on effects to the human food chain? Even if there aren't obvious reductions in commercially-caught species, there is a high likelihood that wider food webs could be severely altered - and not for the good - or even that we on the verge of ingesting copious amounts of microscopic plastic particles. Even people who never eat seafood won't be able to avoid it, since animal feed may contain contaminated fishmeal.

It isn't just the obvious items that are the key pollutants, either: plastic microbeads (i.e. less than 1mm along their longest side) are prominent in rinse-off personal care products. Whoever invented them clearly has zero environmental credentials, bearing in mind there's no ability to recycle or reuse them; in fact, about 8 quadrillion microbeads get washed down the plug hole every day.  The World Trade Organisation is making some inroads into their removal - here in New Zealand their manufacture and sale will be banned by the middle of next year - but research has found they are already pretty much ubiquitous in the environment wherever these products are in use.

Therefore it makes sense to tackle the problem as soon as possible. Since some countries are reticent to implement legislation, or like China and India are having difficulties enforcing it, there is much to be said for seeking ways to degrade plastic waste in the most efficient way possible. Research over the past decade has revealed an astonishing conclusion: only about 1% of the expected amount of waste material has been found in the oceans. Either it is rapidly being buried in the sea bed, or more likely, something is breaking it down. Is this possible? Last year, a team of Japanese researchers found a microbe called Ideonella sakaiensis that is able to digest polyethylene terephthalate (PET), which is used in such mass-produced items as drink bottles. This suggests that there may be marine microorganisms with a taste for human waste, diligently destroying our plastic rubbish and preventing even worse effects on ocean life.

The Japanese research hints that it may be possible to use vats of these microbes to break down at least waste PET and then recycle it, with a much greater efficiency than is currently possible. Without interference, PET is thought to take between four hundred and one thousand years to completely degrade, presumably depending on the shape and thickness of the item. In contrast, Ideonella is able to digest the material in only six weeks. About 56 million tonnes of PET, mostly for bottles, is produced each year. Here in New Zealand, less than half of this material is recycled, the first (conventional) PET recycling plant having started work in August. So there's plenty of scope for a natural solution, should it become usable on an industrial scale.

This begs the question: are there any other critters with similar capabilities?  Last month a team at Texas Tech University reported that caterpillars of the pantry moth Plodia interpunctella have been able to thrive on polyethylene. Research showed that their digestive system contains various species of bacteria - different from the gut microbes in caterpillars that eat natural foods - which are capable of breaking down the plastic. However, what worries me is that if these microbes become selected for in the wild, will this change have the same sort of disastrous result that the inadvertent artificial selection of MRSA has had?

Some worm species are known to eat natural polymers similar to man-made plastics, such as the beeswax in hives, and so have been tested for their ability to break down plastic as well. Further research is required to determine whether the work is being done by microbes in the worms' digestive systems, but one issue with worm-digested plastic is that by-products include the toxic ethylene glycol. Apart from bacteria, Chinese researchers using plastic waste from Pakistan have found that the fungus Aspergillus tubingensis can degrade polyester polyurethane. After some years of disappointing results in mycoremediation (the use of fungi to break down man-made materials) this may prove to be a breakthrough.

The big question then is has nature done it again? After all, it does have about three and a half billion years' head start on the human race. Plastic waste is clearly a big issue and for the majority of humanity who live away from the sea (or rubbish dumps, for that matter) it's fairly easy to think "out of sight, out of mind". However, it pays to highlight the potential danger of changing ecosystems on a global scale, including the extinction of unseen and unknown species, including microbes that are vital to maintaining stability. I've previously mentioned the problems with concentrating on a few key 'poster' organisms at the expense of those that may play a pivotal role - now, or in the future - to our nutritional, pharmaceutical or technological needs. Therefore we need to be certain that the solution won't be as bad as the problem, when it comes to using nature itself to destroy the waste we unthinkingly generate. Surely a good compromise would be to minimise the amounts of plastic rubbish we generate in the first place?

Robotic AI: key to utopia or instrument of Armageddon?

Recent surveys around the world suggest the public feel they don't receive enough science and non-consumer technology news in a format they can readily understand. Despite this, one area of STEM that captures the public imagination is an ever-growing concern with the development of self-aware robots. Perhaps Hollywood is to blame. Although there is a range of well-known cute robot characters, from WALL-E to BB-8 (both surely designed with a firm eye on the toy market), Ex Machina's Ava and the synthetic humans of the Blade Runner sequel appear to be shaping our suspicious attitudes towards androids far more than real-life projects are.

Then again, the idea of thinking mechanisms and the fears they bring out in us organic machines has been around far longer than Hollywood. In 1863 the English novelist Samuel Butler wrote an article entitled Darwin among the Machines, wherein he recommended the destruction of all mechanical devices since they would one day surpass and likely enslave mankind. So perhaps the anxiety runs deeper than our modern technocratic society. It would be interesting to see - if such concepts could be explained to them - whether an Amazonian tribe would rate intelligent, autonomous devices as dangerous. Could it be that it is the humanoid shape that we fear rather than the new technology, since R2-D2 and co. are much-loved, whereas the non-mechanical Golem of Prague and Frankenstein's monster are pioneering examples of anthropoid-shaped violence?

Looking in more detail, this apprehension appears to be split into two separate concerns:

1. How will humans fare in a world where we are not the only species at our level of consciousness - or possibly even the most intelligent?
2. Will our artificial offspring deserve or receive the same rights as humans - or even some animals (i.e. appropriate to their level of consciousness)?

1) Utopia, dystopia, or somewhere in the middle?

The development of artificial intelligence has had a long and tortuous history, with the top-down and bottom-up approaches (plus everything in between) still falling short of the hype. Robots as mobile mechanisms however have recently begun to catch up with fiction, gaining complete autonomy in both two- and four-legged varieties. Humanoid robots and their three principal behavioural laws have been popularised since 1950 via Isaac Asimov's I, Robot collection of short stories. In addition, fiction has presented many instances of self-aware computers with non-mobile extensions into the physical world. In both types of entity, unexpected programming loopholes prove detrimental to their human collaborators. Prominent examples include HAL 9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey and VIKI in the Asimov-inspired feature film called I, Robot. That these decidedly non-anthropomorphic machines have been promoted in dystopian fiction runs counter to the idea above concerning humanoid shapes - could it be instead that it is a human-like personality that is the deciding fear factor?

Although similar attitudes might be expected of a public with limited knowledge of the latest science and technology (except where given the gee-whiz or Luddite treatment by the right-of-centre tabloid press) some famous scientists and technology entrepreneurs have also expressed doubts and concerns. Stephen Hawking, who appears to be getting negative about a lot of things in his old age, has called for comprehensive controls around sentient robots and artificial intelligence in general. His fears are that we may miss something when coding safeguards, leading to our unintentional destruction. This is reminiscent of HAL 9000, who became stuck in a Moebius loop after being given instructions counter to his primary programming.

Politics and economics are also a cause for concern is this area. A few months' ago, SpaceX and Tesla's Elon Musk stated that global conflict is the almost inevitable outcome of nations attempting to gain primacy in the development of AI and intelligent robots. Both Mark Zuckerberg and Bill Gates promote the opposite opinion, with the latter claiming such machines will free up more of humanity - and finances - for work that requires empathy and other complex emotional responses, such as education and care for the elderly.

All in all, there appears to be a very mixed bag of responses from sci-tech royalty. However, Musk's case may not be completely wrong: Vladimir Putin recently stated that the nation who leads AI will rule the world. Although China, the USA and India may be leading the race to develop the technology, Russia is prominent amongst the countries engaged in sophisticated industrial espionage. It may sound too much like James Bond, but clearly the dark side of international competition should not be underestimated.

There is a chance that attitudes are beginning to change in some nations, at least for those who work in the most IT-savvy professions. An online survey over the Asia Pacific region in October and November this year compiled some interesting statistics. In New Zealand and Australia only 8% of office professionals expressed serious concern about the potential impact of AI. However, this was in stark contrast to China, where 41% of interviewees claimed they were extremely concerned. India lay between these two groups at 18%. One factor these four countries had in common was the very high interest in the use of artificial intelligence to free humans from mundane tasks, with the figures here varying from 87% to 98%.

Talking of which, if robots do take on more and more jobs, what will everyone do? Most people just aren't temperamentally suited to the teaching or caring professions, so could it be that those who previously did repetitive, low-initiative tasks will be relegated to a life of enforced leisure? This appears reminiscent of the far-future, human-descended Eloi encountered by the Time Traveller in H.G. Wells' The Time Machine; some wags might say that you only have to look at a small sample of celebrity culture and social media to see that this has already happened...

Robots were once restricted to either the factory or the cinema screen, but now they are becoming integrated into other areas of society. In June this year Dubai introduced a wheeled robot policeman onto its streets, with the intention of making one quarter of the police force equally mechanical by 2030. It seems to be the case that wherever there's the potential to replace a human with a machine, at some point soon a robot will be trialling that role.

2) Robot rights or heartless humans?

Hanson Robotics' Sophia gained international fame when Saudi Arabia made her the world's first silicon citizen. A person in her own right, Sophia is usually referred to as 'she' rather than 'it' - or at least as a 'female robot' - and one who has professed the desire to have children. But would switching her off constitute murder? So far, her general level of intelligence (as opposed to specific skills) varies widely, so she's unlikely to pass the Turing test in most subjects. One thing is for certain: for an audience used to the androids of the Westworld TV series or Blade Runner 2049, Sophia is more akin to a clunky toy.

However, what's interesting here is not so much Sophia's level of sophistication as the human response to her and other contemporary human-like machines. The British tabloid press have perhaps somewhat predictably decided that the notion of robots as individuals is 'bonkers', following appeals to give rights to sexbots - who are presumably well down the intellectual chain from the cutting edge of Sophia. However, researchers at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and officers in the US military have shown aversion to causing damage to their robots, which in the case of the latter was termed 'inhumane'. This is thought-provoking since the army's tracked robot in question bore far greater resemblance to WALL-E than to a human being.

A few months' ago I attended a talk given by New Zealand company Soul Machines, which featured a real-time chat with Rachel, one of their 'emotionally intelligent digital humans'. Admittedly Rachel is entirely virtual, but her ability to respond to words (both the tone in which they are said as well as their meaning) as well as to physical and facial gestures, presented an uncanny facsimile of human behaviour. Rachel is a later version of the AI software that was first showcased in BabyX, who easily generated feelings of sympathy when she became distraught. BabyX is perhaps the first proof that we are well on the way to creating a real-life version of David, the child android in Spielberg's A.I. Artificial Intelligence; robots may soon be able to generate powerful, positive emotions in us.

Whilst Soul Machines' work is entirely virtual, the mechanical shell of Sophia and other less intelligent bipedal robots shows that the physical problem of subtle, independent movement has been almost solved. This begs the question, when Soul Machines' 'computational model of consciousness' is fully realised, will we have any choice but to extend human rights to them, regardless of whether these entities have mechanical bodies or only exist on a computer screen?

To some extent, Philip K. Dick's intention in Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? to show that robots will always be inferior to humans due to their facsimile emotions was reversed by Blade Runner and its sequel. Despite their actions, we felt sorry for the replicants since although they were capable of both rational thought and human-like feelings, they were treated as slaves. The Blade Runner films, along with the Cylons of the Battlestar Galactica reboot, suggest that it is in our best interest to discuss robot rights sooner rather than later, both to prevent the return of slavery (albeit of an organic variety) and to limit a prospective AI revolution. It might sound glib, but any overly-rational self-aware machine might consider itself the second-hand product of natural selection and therefore the successor of humanity. If that is the case, then what does one do with an inferior predecessor that is holding it up its true potential?

One thing for certain is that AI robot research is unlikely to be slowing down any time soon. China is thought to be on the verge of catching up with the USA whilst an Accenture report last year suggested that within the next two decades the implementation of such research could add hundreds of billions of dollars to the economies of participating nations. Perhaps for peace of mind AI manufacturers should follow the suggestion of a European Union draft report from May 2016, which recommended an opt-out mechanism, a euphemistic name for a kill switch, to be installed in all self-aware entities. What with human fallibility and all, isn't there a slight chance that a loophole could be found in Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, after which we find out if we have created partners or successors..?

Research without borders: why international cooperation is good for STEM

I've just finished reading Bryan Sykes' (okay, I know he's a bit controversial) The Seven Daughters of Eve, about the development of mitochondrial DNA research for population genetics. One chapter mentioned Dr Sykes' discovery of the parallel work of Hans-Jürgen Bandelt, who's Mathematics Genealogy Project provided a structure diagram perfectly suited to explaining Sykes' own evolutionary branching results. This discovery occurred largely by chance, suggesting that small research groups must rely either on serendipity or have knowledge of the latest professional papers in order to find other teams who's work might be useful.

This implies that the more international the character of scientific and technological research, the more likely there will be such fortuitous occurrences. Britain's tortuous path out of the European Union has led various organisations on both sides of the Channel to claim that this can only damage British STEM research. The Francis Crick Institute, a London-based biomedical research centre that opened last year, has staff originating from over seventy nations. This size and type of establishment cannot possibly rely on being supplied with researchers from just one nation. Yet EU scientists resident in Britain have felt 'less welcome' since the Brexit referendum, implying a potential loss of expertise in the event of a mass withdrawal.

In recent years, European Union research donations to the UK have exceeded Britain's own contributions by £3 billion, meaning that the additional £300 million newly announced for research and development over the coming four years is only ten percent of what the EU has provided - and the UK Government is clearly looking to the private sector to make up the shortfall. It should also be recognised that although there are high numbers of non-British nationals working in Britain's STEM sector, the country also has a fair number of its own STEM professionals working overseas in EU nations.

The United Kingdom is home to highly expensive, long-term projects that require overseas funding and expertise, including the Oxfordshire-based Joint European Torus nuclear fusion facility. British funding and staff also contribute to numerous big-budget international projects, from the EU-driven Copernicus Earth observation satellite programme to the non-EU CERN. The latter is best-known for the Large Hadron Collider, the occasional research home of physicist and media star Brian Cox (how does he find the time?) and involves twenty-two key nations plus researchers from more than eighty other countries. Despite the intention to stay involved in at least the non-EU projects, surveys suggest that post-Brexit there will be greater numbers of British STEM professionals moving abroad. Indeed, in the past year some American institutions have actively pursued the notion of recruiting more British scientists and engineers.

Of course, the UK is far from unique in being involved in so many projects requiring international cooperation. Thirty nations are collaborating on the US-based Deep Underground Neutrino Experiment (DUNE); the recently-successful Laser Interferometer Gravitational-Wave Observatory (LIGO) involves staff from eighteen countries; and the Square Kilometre Array radio telescope project utilises researchers of more than twenty nationalities. Although the USA has a large population when compared to European nations, one report from 2004 states that approaching half of US physicists were born overseas. Clearly, these projects are deeply indebted to non-nationals.

It isn't just STEM professionals that rely on journeying cross-border, either. Foreign science and technology students make up considerable percentages in some developed countries: in recent years, over 25% of the USA's STEM graduate students and even higher numbers of its master's degree and doctorate students were not born there. Canada, Australia, New Zealand and several European countries have similar statistics, with Indian and Chinese students making up a large proportion of those studying abroad.

As a small nation with severely limited resources for research, New Zealand does extremely well out of the financial contributions from foreign students. Each PhD student spends an average of NZ$175,000 on fees and living costs, never mind additional revenue from the likes of family holidays, so clearly the economics alone make sense. Non-nationals can also introduce new perspectives and different approaches, potentially lessening inflexibility due to cultural mind sets. In recent years, two New Zealand-based scientists, microbiologist Dr Siouxsie Wiles and nanotechnologist Dr Michelle Dickinson (A.K.A. Nanogirl) have risen to prominence thanks to their fantastic science communication work, including with children. Both were born in the UK, but New Zealand sci-comm would be substantially poorer without their efforts. Could it be that their sense of perspective homed in on a need that locally-raised scientists failed to recognise?

This combination of open borders for STEM professionals and international collaboration on expensive projects proves if anything that science cannot be separated from society as a whole. Publically-funded research requires not only a government willing to see beyond its short-term spell in office but a level of state education that satisfies the general populace as to why public money should be granted for such undertakings. Whilst I have previously discussed the issues surrounding the use of state funding for mega-budget research with no obvious practical application, the merits of each project should still be discussed on an individual basis. In addition, and as a rule of thumb, it seems that the larger the project, the almost certain increase in the percentage of non-nationals required to staff it.

The anti-Brexit views of prominent British scientists such as Brian Cox and the Astronomer Royal, Lord Rees of Ludlow, are well known. Let's just hope that the rising xenophobia and anti-immigration feeling that led to Brexit doesn't stand for 'brain exit'. There's been enough of that already and no nation - not even the USA - has enough brain power or funding to go it alone on the projects that really need prompt attention (in case you're in any doubt, alternative energy sources and climate change mitigation spring to mind). Shortly before the Brexit referendum, Professor Stephen Hawking said: "Gone are the days when we could stand on our own, against the world. We need to be part of a larger group of nations." Well if that's not obvious, I don't know what is!

Wonders of Creation: explaining the universe with Brian Cox and Robin Ince

As Carl Sagan once you said: "if you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe." A few nights' ago, I went to what its' promoters bill as ‘the world's most successful and significant science show', which in just over two hours presented a delineation of the birth, history, and eventual death of the universe. In fact, it covered just about everything from primordial slime to the triumphs of the Cassini space probe, only lacking the apple pie itself.

The show in question is an evening with British physicist and presenter Professor Brian Cox. As a long-time fan of his BBC Radio show The Infinite Monkey Cage I was interested to see how the celebrity professor worked his sci-comm magic with a live audience. In addition to the good professor, his co-presenter on The Infinite Monkey Cage, the comedian Robin Ince, also appeared on stage. As such, I was intrigued to see how their combination of learned scientist and representative layman (or 'interested idiot' as he styles himself) would work in front of two thousand people.

I've previously discussed the trend for extremely expensive live shows featuring well-known scientists and (grumble-grumble) the ticket's to Brian Cox were similarly priced to those for Neil deGrasse Tyson earlier this year. As usual, my friends and I went for the cheaper seats, although Auckland must have plenty of rich science fans, judging by the almost packed house (I did a notice a few empty seats in the presumably most expensive front row). As with Professor Tyson, the most expensive tickets for this show included a meet and greet afterwards, at an eye-watering NZ$485!

When Cox asked if there were any scientists in the audience, there were very few cheers. I did notice several members of New Zealand's sci-comm elite, including Dr Michelle Dickinson, A.K.A. Nanogirl, who had met Ince on his previous Cosmic Shambles LIVE tour; perhaps the cost precluded many STEM professionals from attending. As I have said before, such inflated prices can easily lead to only dedicated fans attending, which is nothing less than preaching to the converted. In which case, it's more of a meet-the-celebrity event akin to a music concert than an attempt to spread the wonder - and rationality - of science.

So was I impressed? The opening music certainly generated some nostalgia for me, as it was taken from Brian Eno's soundtrack for the Al Reinert 1983 feature-length documentary on the Apollo lunar missions. Being of almost the same age as Professor Cox, I confess to having in my teens bought the album of vinyl - and still have it! Unlike Neil deGrasse Tyson's show, the Cox-Ince evening was an almost non-stop visual feast, with one giant screen portraying a range of photographs and diagrams, even a few videos. At the times, the images almost appeared to be 3D, seemingly hanging out of the screen, with shots of the Earth and various planets and moons bulging onto the darkened stage. I have to admit to being extremely impressed with the visuals, even though I had seen some of them before. Highlights included the Hubble Space Telescope's famous Ultra-Deep Field of the earliest galaxies and the montage of the cosmic microwave background taken by the WMAP probe.

The evening (okay, let's call it a cosmology lecture with comic interludes) began as per Neil deGrasse Tyson with the age and scale of the universe, then progressed through galaxy formation and a few examples of known extra-solar planets. However, the material was also bang up to date, as it included the recent discoveries of gravitational waves at LIGO and the creation of heavy elements such as gold and platinum in neutron star collisions.

Our universe: a potted history

Professor Cox also took us through the future prospects of the solar system and the eventual heat death of the universe, generating a few "oohs" and "aahs" along the way.  Interestingly, there was little explanation of dark matter and dark energy; perhaps it was deemed too speculative a topic to do it justice. Black holes had a generous amount of attention though, including Hawking radiation. Despite having an audience of primarily non-STEM professionals (admittedly after a show of hands found a large proportion of them to be The Infinite Monkey Cage listeners), a certain level of knowledge was presupposed and there was little attempt to explain the basics. Indeed, at one point an equation popped up - and it wasn't E=MC². How refreshing!

Talking of which, there was a brief rundown of Einstein's Special and General Theories of Relativity, followed by the latter's development into the hypothesis of the expanding universe and eventual proof of the Big Bang model. Einstein's Cosmological Constant and his initial dismissal of physicist-priest Georges Lemaître's work were given as examples that even the greatest scientists sometimes make mistakes, showing that science is not a set of inviolable truths that we can never improve upon (the Second Law of Thermodynamics excluded, of course). Lemaître was also held up to be an example of how science and religion can co-exist peacefully, in this case, within the same person.

Another strand, proving that Cox is indeed deeply indebted to Carl Sagan (aren't we all?) was his potted history of life on Earth, with reference to the possibility of microbial life on Mars, Europa and Enceladus. The lack of evidence for intelligent extra-terrestrials clearly bothers Brian Cox as much as it did Sagan. However, Cox appeared to retain his scientific impartiality, suggesting that - thanks to the 3.5 billion year plus gap between the origin of life and the evolution of multi-cellular organisms - intelligent species may be extremely rare.

For a fan of crewed space missions, Cox made little mention of future space travel, concentrating instead on robotic probes such as Cassini. The Large Hadron Collider also didn't feature in any meaningful way, although one of the audience questions around the danger of LHC-created black holes was put into perspective next to the natural black holes that might be produced by cosmic ray interactions with the Earth's atmosphere; the latter's 10⁸ TeV (tera electron volts) far exceed the energies generated by the LHC and we've not been compressed to infinity yet.

Robin Ince's contributions were largely restricted to short if hilarious segments but he also made a passionate plea (there's no other word for it) on the readability of Charles Darwin and his relevance today. He discussed Darwin's earthworm experiments and made short work of the American evangelicals'  "no Darwin equals no Hitler" nonsense, concluding with one of his best jokes: "no Pythagoras would mean no Toblerone".

One of the friends I went with admitted to learning little that was new but as stated earlier I really went to examine the sci-comm methods being used and their effect on the audience. Cox and Ince may have covered a lot of scientific ground but they were far from neglectful of the current state of our species and our environment. Various quotes from astronauts and the use of one of the 'pale blue dot' images of a distant Earth showed the intent to follow in Carl Sagan's footsteps and present the poetic wonder of the immensity of creation and the folly of our pathetic conflicts by comparison. The Cox-Ince combination is certainly a very effective one, as any listeners to The Infinite Monkey Cage will know. Other science communicators could do far worse than to follow their brand of no-nonsense lecturing punctuated by amusing interludes. As for me, I'm wondering whether to book tickets for Richard Dawkins and Lawrence Krauss in May next year. They are slightly cheaper than both Brian Cox and Neil deGrasse Tyson. Hmmm…

Counting keruru: can public surveys and competitions aid New Zealand conservation?

Whilst some other countries - the UK, for example - have dozens of general and specialised wildlife surveys undertaken by members of the public, New Zealand has comparatively few. Whilst this might seem odd, considering the Kiwi penchant for the great outdoors (not to mention the little matter of the endangered status of so many native species) it should be remembered that the nation has a rather small (human) population. In addition, New Zealand is no different from other developed countries, wherein environmentalists often appear at loggerheads with rural landowners, especially farmers.

Since agriculture forms a fundamental component of the New Zealand economy, any anti-farming sentiment can quickly escalate into unpleasantness, as even a cursory look at agriculture versus environmentalists news stories will confirm. Farmers are often reported as resenting what they deem as unrealistic or uninformed opinions by wildlife campaigners. But lest farmers consider this particular post being yet another piece of anti-farming propaganda, it should be noted that campaigns are usually driven by a perceived need for action in the face of government inactivity: after all, New Zealand is second only to Hawaii in the number of introduced species, many of which are in direct competition with, or predate upon, native ones.

Talking of competitions, this year's Bird of the Year contest has just been won by the cheeky, intelligent kea, the world's only alpine parrot. Run by Forest and Bird* and now in its thirteenth year, it aims to raise publicity for the plight of New Zealand's native birds and the wider environment they rely upon. With over 50,000 votes cast, this means approximately 1% of New Zealand citizens and residents entered the competition (assuming of course that non-Kiwis didn't participate).

The international level of awareness about the competition seems to be on the increase too, with the kea's victory even being reported on the website of the UK's The Guardian newspaper, albeit in an article written by a New Zealand-based journalist. The competition doesn't appear to offer anything to science, except a potential – if not unobvious - theory that the public's fondness for particular wildlife species is based upon their aesthetic qualities, with drab birds for example getting less attention than colourful ones. Then again, perhaps Forest and Bird are more interested in spreading their message rather than the results; as the old adage goes, there's no such thing as bad publicity. Indeed, the story of a Christchurch-based who tried to rig the vote in favour of the white-faced heron was reported by the BBC.

Another prominent example of the New Zealand's public involvement in environmental matters is the Annual Garden Bird survey, which began in 2007 and is run by the Government-owned Landcare Research. This more obvious example of citizen science states that the results are used to analyse population trends for both native and introduced bird species and so aid pest control programmes. However, it would be difficult to ascertain the validity of the observations, since less than 0.3% of the nation's gardens (or rather their owners) participate.

Whilst 5000 entries might be considerably more than could be achieved by other means, there are probably all sorts of details that are missed with this level of coverage. I have participated for three years now and have found that my observations do not agree with the reported trends. For example, last year's results show that the silvereye, blackbird and song thrush have declined in my area, whereas I have not noticed any such a drop-off for these birds -  and it's not as if I particularly encourage the latter two (non-native) species.

A more specific example of bio-recording was last month's Great Kereru Count, which claims to be New Zealand's biggest citizen science project. Clearly, they don't consider the Bird of the Year competition as science! Various organisations run this survey, which gained around 7000 reports this year. There are also continuous monitoring schemes, such as for monarch butterflies (which is interesting, as this is a far-from-endangered, recently self-introduced creature) whilst NatureWatch NZ allows anyone to supply a record of a plant or animal species, or indeed to request identification of one. The latter might not sound particularly necessary, but judging by how little some New Zealanders seem to know about their own environment (for example I've met Kiwis who cannot identify such common organisms as a tree weta or cabbage trees) this resource is probably essential in understanding the spread of non-native species.

With native species protection in mind, there are other, more direct, citizen science projects in the country, with everything from the Great Kiwi Morning Tea fundraiser this month to allocation of funding for predator control tools and traps – including in urban gardens - via the independent trust Predator Free New Zealand.

For an even greater level of public involvement in science and technological research, in 2015 the New Zealand Government initiated the Participatory Science Platform to aid partnerships between professionals and community groups. Three pilot projects are currently under way, with Dr Victoria Metcalf as the National Coordinator (or Queen of Curiosity as she has been nicknamed.) These projects are exciting because they involve the public from project development through to conclusion, rather than just using non-scientists as data gatherers. In addition, the ability to gain first-hand experience on real-world undertakings may even encourage children from lower decile areas to consider STEM careers. That's no bad thing.

Back to surveys. Although science communication (sci-comm) is in vogue, my own feeling is that participation is key to promoting science – the methods as well as the facts – to the wider public. Yes, some science is very difficult to understand, but there's plenty that is also easy to grasp. This includes the dangers facing species pushed to the brink of extinction by habitat loss, pollution, and introduced organisms. By actively involving entire communities, surveys and competitions can also play a part in preserving species whilst allowing a sustainable level of development.

Of course this requires a government with vision, but with New Zealand's Green Party gaining positions in the Jacinda Ardern-led coalition, perhaps the newly-formed New Zealand Government will pick up the slack after years of prevarication and inactivity. That way our grandchildren will be able to experience the cheeky kea and company for real, rather than just via old recordings. How can that fail to make sense? After all, at the lower end of the bio-recording spectrum, all it requires is for someone to make a few taps on their keyboard or smartphone. It's certainly not rocket science!

*Forest and Bird have actively lobbied the New Zealand Government in numerous cases to prevent environmental degradation via land swaps, mining and hydro-electric schemes. They have produced a volume on environmental law and a mobile app called the Best Fish Guide. All in all, they perform an immensely valuable contribution to ensure that development in New Zealand is sustainable and that the public are made aware of schemes that might impact the wider environment.

The zeal in Zealandia: revealing a lost continent

From an outsider's standpoint, geology appears to be a highly conservative science. As I have mentioned on numerous occasions, it seems astonishing that it took over four decades for Alfred Wegener's continental drift hypothesis to be formalised - via the paradigm-shifting discovery of sea floor spreading - into the theory of plate tectonics. I suppose that like evolution by natural selection, the mechanism, once stated, seems blindingly obvious in hindsight.

Regardless, the geological establishment appears to have been stubbornly opposed to the ideas of an outsider (Wegener was a meteorologist) who was unable to provide proof of an exact mechanism. This was despite the fact that the primary alternative, hypothetical submerged (but extremely convenient) land bridges, appear even more far-fetched.

Over the past few decades geophysical data has been accumulating that should generate rewrites of texts from the most basic level upwards. Namely, that the islands making up New Zealand are merely the tip of the iceberg, accounting for just six per cent of a mostly submerged 'lost' continent. Once part of the Southern Hemisphere's Gondwana, in 1995 the newly discovered continent was given the name Zealandia. Approximately five million square kilometres in size, it broke away from the Australasian region of Gondwana around 70-80 million years ago.

After a decade or two of fairly lacklustre reporting, 2017 seems to be the year in which Zealandia is taking-off in the public domain. First, the Geological Society of America published a paper in February. stating that Zealandia should be officially declared as a continent. Then in July the drill ship Joides Resolution began the two month long Expedition 371, a research trip under the International Ocean Discovery Programme (IODP). Scientists from twelve countries undertook deep sea drilling, gaining data on plate tectonics, palaeontology and climate history as well as research directly relevant to understanding the geology of the newest continent.

It is surprising then to learn that geologists first mooted the idea as early as the 1960s but that apart from some marine core samples collected in 1971, no-one undertook the necessary ocean-based research until very recently. Earth resources satellites have helped somewhat, but nothing could replace the evidence that emerged with deep drilling of the seabed. Therefore I wonder what has sparked the sudden interest in an idea that has been around for so long?

One possibility is the large amount of data that the international geological community required to prove the theory beyond doubt, coupled with the fact that this sort of research has little in the way of an obvious immediate practical benefit. It is extremely expensive to undertake deep sea drilling and few vessels are equipped for the purpose. Joides Resolution itself will be forty years old next year, having undergone several years' of refit to keep it going. Those areas of sea bed with potential oil or gas deposits may gain high-fidelity surveying, but compared to fossil fuels, fossil biota and sea bed strata research are very much at the whim of international project funding. In the case of the IODP, governments are cutting budgets on what are deemed non-essential projects, so it remains to be seen whether the intended follow-up trips will occur.

It would be disappointing if there was no further research as despite the acceptance of Zealandia, there is still a great deal of disagreement about what is known as the Oligocene Drowning. I first came across the notion of an eighth continent in the excellent 2007 book In Search of Ancient New Zealand, written by geologist / palaeontologist Hamish Campbell and natural history writer Gerard Hutching. The reason that over ninety per cent of Zealandia is underwater is due to the lack of thickness of its continental land mass - only 20-30km - making it far less buoyant than other continents.

But has this submerged percentage varied during the past eighty million years? There are some very divided opinions about this, with palaeontologists, geneticists and other disciplines taking sides with different camps of geologists. These can be roughly summarised as Moa's Ark versus the Oligocene Drowning, or to be more precise, what percentage, if any, of New Zealand's unique plants and animals are locally-derived Gondwanan survivors and how many have arrived by sea or air within the past twenty or so million years?

The arguments are many and varied, with each side claiming that the other has misinterpreted limited or inaccurate data. If Zealandia has at any time been entirely submerged, then presumably next to none of the current fauna and flora can have remained in situ since the continent broke away from Gondwana. The evidence for and against includes geology, macro- and micro-fossils, and genetic comparisons, but nothing as yet provides enough certainty for a water-tight case in either direction. In Search of Ancient New Zealand examines evidence that all Zealandia was under water around twenty-three million years ago, during the event known as the Oligocene Drowning. However, Hamish Campbell's subsequent 2014 book (co-written with Nick Mortimer) Zealandia: Our continent revealed discusses the finding of land-eroded sediments during this epoch, implying not all the continent was submerged.

It's easy to see why experts might be reticent to alter their initial stance, since in addition to the conservative nature of geology there are other non-science factors such as patriotism at stake. New Zealand's unusual biota is a key element of its national identity, so for New Zealand scientists it's pretty much a case of damage it at your own peril! In 2003 I visited the predator-free Karori Wildlife Reserve in Wellington. Six years later it was rebranded as Zealandia, deliberately referencing the eighth continent and with more than a hint of support for Moa's Ark, i.e. an unbroken chain of home-grown oddities such as the reptile tuatara and insect weta. With the nation's reliance on tourism and the use of the '100% Pure New Zealand' slogan, a lot rests on the idea of unique and long-isolated wildlife. If the flightless kakapo parrot for example turns out not to be very Kiwi after all, then who knows how the country's reputation might suffer.

What isn't well known, even within New Zealand, is that some of the best known animals and plants are very recent arrivals. In addition to the numerous species deliberately or accidentally introduced by settlers in the past two hundred years, birds such as the silvereye / waxeye (Zosterops lateralis) and Welcome swallow (Hirundo neoxena) are self-introduced, as is the monarch butterfly.

The volcanic island of Rangitoto in Auckland's Hauraki Gulf is only about six centuries old and yet - without any human intervention - has gained the largest pohutukawa forest in the world, presumably all thanks to seeds spread on the wind and by birds. Therefore it cannot be confirmed with any certainty just how long the ancestors of the current flora and fauna have survived in the locality. A number of New Zealand scientists are probably worried that some of the nation's best-loved species may have arrived relatively recently from across the Tasman; a fossil discovered in 2013 suggests that the flightless kiwi is a fairly close cousin of the Australian emu and so is descended from a bird that flew to New Zealand before settling into an ecological niche that didn't require flight.

Other paleontological evidence supports the Moa's Ark hypothesis: since 2001 work on a lake bed at St Bathans, Central Otago has produced a wide range of 16 million year-old fossils, including three bones from a mouse-sized land mammal. The diversity of the assemblage indicates that unless there was some uniquely rapid colonisation and subsequent speciation, there must have been above-water regions throughout the Oligocene. In addition, whereas the pro-underwater faction have concentrated on vertebrates, research into smaller critters such as giant land snails (which are unable to survive in salt water conditions) supports the opposite proposition.

So all in all, there is as yet no definitive proof one way or the other. What's interesting about this particular set of hypotheses is the way in which an array of disciplines are coming together to provide a more accurate picture of New Zealand's past. By working together, they also seem to be reducing the inertia that has led geology to overlook new ideas for far too long; Zealandia, your time has come!