29 entries

2001

A year in which humanity published its own instruction manual, stopped light dead in a laboratory, and a retired American businessman paid twenty million dollars to discover that orbit is very quiet.

Nobel Prizes

  • Nobel Prize in Physics

    Atoms Learn to Move as One

    Eric A. Cornell · Wolfgang Ketterle · Carl E. Wieman

    Einstein and Bose had worked out in 1924 that if you cooled bosons far enough, they would stop behaving like individual particles and collapse into a single collective quantum state — a theoretical entity that no one at the time imagined actually making. Cornell and Wieman created the first Bose-Einstein condensate in 1995 at JILA in Boulder, cooling a cloud of rubidium-87 atoms to within 170 nanokelvin of absolute zero, at which point the atoms' wavefunctions overlapped and the whole ensemble behaved as one. Ketterle, working independently at MIT with sodium, not only made his own condensate but managed to create two of them and watch them interfere — demonstrating that they were genuinely matter waves, not just very cold atoms. The condensate is to atoms what a laser is to photons: coherent, collective, eerily well-behaved. Without this work, the field of atom interferometry — gyroscopes, gravitational sensors, and quantum computers relying on controlled matter waves — would have no foundation at all.

  • Nobel Prize in Chemistry

    Teaching Molecules Left From Right

    William S. Knowles · Ryoji Noyori · K. Barry Sharpless

    Molecules that are mirror images of each other — chiral twins — share identical atoms bonded in the same sequence, yet a living cell can tell them apart as easily as a hand distinguishes a left glove from a right. One form of thalidomide treated morning sickness; the other caused birth defects. Knowles, working at Monsanto in the 1960s and 1970s, was the first to show that a chiral metal catalyst could selectively build only one mirror image, and he used the insight to synthesise L-DOPA — the Parkinson's drug — with high selectivity. Noyori refined the concept into a general and elegant system using BINAP ligands, and Sharpless developed asymmetric epoxidation and dihydroxylation reactions that gave organic chemists reliable routes to whichever chiral product they actually wanted. Before this work, pharmaceutical synthesis was a lottery that threw away half its product and sometimes kept the wrong half. The drug industry now depends on asymmetric catalysis so thoroughly that losing it would mean reformulating thousands of medicines from scratch.

  • Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine

    The Cell's Own Checkpoints

    Leland H. Hartwell · Tim Hunt · Sir Paul M. Nurse

    Cell division is not a spontaneous affair; it proceeds through a strict series of stages, and at each transition a molecular checkpoint must be cleared before the cell is permitted to continue. Hartwell, working with budding yeast in the 1970s, identified over a hundred genes governing this progression and defined the concept of a checkpoint — a surveillance mechanism that can halt the cell cycle when something goes wrong. Nurse, working in fission yeast, identified cdc2, the master regulator kinase whose activity drives cells from one phase to the next; Hunt, almost accidentally, discovered cyclins — proteins that rise and fall with each cell cycle, controlling when that kinase is active. The machinery is so fundamental that yeast genes and human genes could be swapped with only modest complaint from the cell. Cancer is a disease of failed checkpoints: cells that divide when they should not and refuse to stop when they should. Every oncologist working on targeted therapies today is navigating a map these three drew.

  • Nobel Prize in Literature

    Incorruptible Scrutiny of Empire's Leftovers

    Sir V. S. Naipaul

    Vidiadhar Surajprasad Naipaul grew up in Trinidad in a family of Indian origin that had arrived as indentured labourers, left for Oxford on a scholarship at seventeen, and spent the rest of his life examining, with something between ferocity and grief, what colonialism had made of the places it passed through. His early Trinidad novels — A House for Mr Biswas among them — had a warmth that some later readers felt he was rationing for export; his non-fiction dispatches from Africa, India, and the Islamic world were harder, cooler, and more widely resented. The Swedish Academy cited his "perceptive narrative and incorruptible scrutiny" — a phrase that diplomatically brackets the tenderness and the brutality in roughly equal measure. What persists is not any particular political verdict but the quality of attention: a writer for whom the minor character with a crumbling house and a borrowed name was as worthy of exact rendition as any empire's architect.

  • Nobel Peace Prize

    Sovereignty Is Not a Shield

    United Nations · Kofi Annan

    The United Nations was fifty-six years old in 2001, which is old enough to have accumulated both a respectable institutional history and an impressive collection of institutional disappointments, and Kofi Annan had spent much of his Secretary-Generalship trying to draw something useful from both. A Ghanaian diplomat who had worked his way through the UN's own bureaucracy, Annan reoriented the organisation's language around the concept of the Responsibility to Protect — the argument that state sovereignty is not a shield behind which atrocities may be committed in peace — and pushed through the Millennium Development Goals as a framework that traded in measurable targets rather than aspirational prose. The prize went jointly to Annan and the institution itself in the Nobel Prize's own centennial year, a pairing that managed to honour genuine achievement while leaving room for the ambiguity the organisation had so abundantly earned. Whether the Responsibility to Protect has since protected more than it has complicated is a question still being debated in rooms Annan did not build but could not quite escape.

  • Sveriges Riksbank Prize in Economic Sciences

    Why the Lemon Market Collapses

    George A. Akerlof · A. Michael Spence · Joseph E. Stiglitz

    Classical economics had long assumed that buyers and sellers in a market shared roughly the same information; what Akerlof showed, in his 1970 paper on the used-car market, was what happens when they do not. Sellers of used cars know whether their vehicle is reliable or a lemon; buyers cannot tell. So buyers offer only a middling price, which drives out the sellers of good cars, which lowers the average quality, which lowers the price buyers will pay — and the market collapses inward on itself. The paper had been rejected by several journals before Akerlof found one willing to publish it. Spence examined the other direction: how does a well-informed party credibly signal its quality? His answer — that education serves partly as a signal of ability rather than a direct source of it — remains one of the more unsettling ideas in the economics of universities. Stiglitz mapped how the uninformed party designs contracts and institutions to extract information from those who have it. Together they gave economists the tools to make sense of markets for health insurance, financial securities, and labour — markets where information asymmetry is not the exception but the governing condition.

Ig Nobel Prizes

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Medicine

    The Case for Coconut Helmets

    Peter Barss

    Peter Barss, a physician working in Papua New Guinea, noticed that a puzzling number of patients presenting at hospital with severe head injuries had not fallen, been struck in traffic, or suffered any of the usual misfortunes — they had been hit by falling coconuts. He undertook what any good clinician would and produced a systematic analysis, published in the Journal of Trauma in 1984, that documented four deaths and twenty-one serious injuries over four years from this single arboreal menace. The coconut palm can carry fruit weighing two kilograms at heights exceeding twenty-five metres; the physics are unambiguous, if rarely discussed in safety literature. Barss recommended hard hats in coconut groves. That this recommendation existed nowhere in medical guidance before he looked up is a reasonable indictment of how thoroughly urban assumptions shape what medicine bothers to study.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Physics

    A Vortex Inside the Shower

    David Schmidt

    The shower curtain problem is one of those phenomena so familiar and so annoying that most people simply accept it as the universe's way of expressing mild hostility toward mornings: the moment hot water runs, the curtain billows inward and clings to whatever it can reach. David Schmidt, a mechanical engineer at the University of Massachusetts, applied computational fluid dynamics to the problem and produced a model showing that the spray of water creates a central low-pressure vortex — a miniature cyclone inside the shower — and the curtain, obedient to Bernoulli as always, is drawn toward the low pressure. The simulations matched observation. Schmidt's paper is, in a narrow technical sense, entirely serious; the Ig Nobel recognised that the seriousness of the method applied to this particular subject achieves an effect that neither seriousness nor comedy could quite manage alone.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Biology

    Airtight Underwear, Charcoal Lined

    Buck Weimer

    Buck Weimer, of Pueblo, Colorado, addressed with some seriousness a problem that biology has never solved and society has dealt with by pretending it does not exist. His invention, Under-Ease, was airtight underwear sealed at the waist and legs and fitted with a vent containing a replaceable charcoal filter — the same principle used in gas masks and industrial chemical protection, applied to a much smaller and considerably more personal theatre of operations. The patent was filed, the product manufactured, and the Ig Nobel awarded. That a market existed for charcoal-filtered underwear says rather more about the human condition than about any particular deficiency of Buck Weimer's.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Economics

    Death, Negotiated Around the Tax Code

    Joel Slemrod · Wojciech Kopczuk

    Joel Slemrod and Wojciech Kopczuk examined death records around the times of major changes in the United States estate tax and found a statistically significant pattern: deaths clustered just after a favourable change in the law, and were measurably scarcer just before one. The effect was modest, but it was real enough to survive scrutiny, and it implies that dying, at least for those with substantial estates and some warning of their condition, is a decision partially subject to financial optimisation. This is not a comfortable conclusion for either the economics of rational behaviour — which it vindicates — or for the bedside manner of estate-planning attorneys, whose involvement in the timing it tentatively suggests. Death, the study concluded with the quiet restraint of an academic paper, is more negotiable than philosophers have generally supposed.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Literature

    One Man's Twenty-Three-Year War for the Apostrophe

    John Richards

    In 1996, John Richards of Boston, Lincolnshire, founded the Apostrophe Protection Society on the conviction that the distinction between a plural and a possessive — between "apples" and "apple's" — was worth defending, and that someone needed to stand up and say so. The society's website catalogued offending signage with the forensic patience of a man who had clearly spent too long in the greengrocer's aisle, and gained, at its peak, a membership of several thousand. Richards fought for twenty-three years before dissolving the society in 2019 with a statement that the battle was lost: too many people no longer cared. The Ig Nobel recognised both the quixotic sincerity of the project and the real linguistic principle beneath it — because possessives and plurals are not the same thing, however many sandwich boards insist otherwise.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Psychology

    Cataloguing How Joy Spreads Among Toddlers

    Lawrence W. Sherman

    Lawrence Sherman, a professor of educational psychology, conducted a systematic observational study of spontaneous glee in preschool children — recording when collective joy erupted in small groups, how it propagated from child to child, what social conditions precipitated it and which extinguished it. The study was methodologically thorough, the subject impeccably chosen, and the resulting paper entirely earnest in its attempt to understand a state that most adults recognise instantly and can rarely recapture. Psychology had devoted a century of considerable ingenuity to cataloguing human distress; the decision to point the same apparatus at happiness was not less scientific, merely less expected. Sherman's work predates by some years the positive psychology movement that eventually made such research fashionable, which gives it a certain air of having been right at the wrong moment.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Astrophysics

    Hell, Located by Broadcast Ministry

    Jack Van Impe · Rexella Van Impe

    Jack and Rexella Van Impe, evangelical broadcasters and the proprietors of Jack Van Impe Ministries International, announced their determination that black holes satisfy all the scriptural and physical requirements for the location of Hell. Black holes are, after all, regions from which nothing escapes; they are characterised by extreme density, gravitational forces that compress matter beyond recognition, and the permanent imprisonment of anything that crosses the event horizon. The Van Impes considered these properties theologically consistent with established descriptions of perdition and said so, at some length and with genuine conviction. Peer review was not sought. The Ig Nobel committee found the interdisciplinary reach admirable, if unverifiable — though one notes that astrophysicists, when pressed on what it would feel like to fall into a black hole, have not generally offered reassurance.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Peace

    Toppled Tyrants, Reassembled for Admission

    Viliumas Malinauskus

    After Lithuania regained independence and the Soviet statues began coming down, most municipalities faced the same practical question: what to do with several tonnes of ideologically compromised stone and metal. Viliumas Malinauskus had an answer. He collected Lenin, Stalin, and assorted socialist-realist heroes from their demolished pedestals across the former Soviet republics and reassembled them in a wooded park near the Grūtas reservoir — officially Grūtas Park, informally and inevitably Stalins World — where visitors could stroll among them behind a fence of barbed wire, with watchtowers at intervals, in what the park generously described as a historical-cultural experience. Whether this was reconciliation, mockery, or shrewd tourism is a question the park's annual visitors have been answering for themselves ever since. The Ig Nobel for Peace recognised that sometimes the most disarming thing you can do with a statue of a tyrant is charge admission.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Technology

    A Patent Granted for the Wheel

    John Keogh

    John Keogh, an Australian inventor, submitted an application to the Australian Patent Office under the country's newly established innovation patent system — a streamlined process designed to protect incremental inventions with less examination than a standard patent — and successfully received a patent for a "circular transportation facilitation device." The device was the wheel. The patent was certified in 2001. The Australian Patent Office's innovation patent scheme at the time required examination only if the patent was challenged, meaning an application could be certified without anyone actually checking whether the invention was, for instance, five thousand years old. The episode illustrated with unusual clarity what patent scholars had been arguing in abstract for years: that a system which certifies first and examines later is not really examining at all.

  • Ig Nobel Prize in Public Health

    Everyone Does It, Nobody Says So

    Chittaranjan Andrade · B. S. Srihari

    Chittaranjan Andrade and B. S. Srihari, psychiatrists at the National Institute of Mental Health and Neurosciences in Bangalore, surveyed 200 adolescents on a behaviour that essentially all of them practised and none of them discussed: digital nasal excavation, or nose-picking. They found it nearly universal — all but four of their subjects admitted to the habit — with most practitioners reporting somewhere between four and eight episodes per day and a substantial minority acknowledging that they ate what they found. The survey established base rates where none had existed, characterised the practice as a common, largely benign habit rather than a pathological symptom, and appeared in the peer-reviewed literature with every formality intact. The Ig Nobel committee was grateful that someone had finally thought to ask.

Other Prizes

  • Turing Award

    Objects, Invented for a Simulated Harbour

    ACM A.M. Turing Award

    Ole-Johan Dahl · Kristen Nygaard

    In the early 1960s, Ole-Johan Dahl and Kristen Nygaard at the Norwegian Computing Centre were trying to simulate the behaviour of ships in a harbour — a problem involving many independent objects interacting according to their own rules — and found that the programming languages available to them were not built for it. So they built Simula, and in doing so invented the concept of the class: a template for objects that bundle data and behaviour together, that can inherit properties from other classes, and that send messages to one another to get things done. The ideas felt esoteric and academic for years, confined to Scandinavian simulation problems and graduate seminars. Then Smalltalk took them up, and C++ codified them, and Java exported them to every computer science curriculum on earth, and by 2001 it was nearly impossible to explain to a new programmer that someone had once sat down and worked out that objects ought to exist. Dahl died in June 2002, Nygaard in August 2002 — both within months of receiving the award that confirmed what millions of daily class declarations had quietly been saying for decades.

  • Lasker Award (Basic Medical Research)

    Any Gene, Chosen and Silenced

    Albert Lasker Basic Medical Research Award

    Mario Capecchi · Martin Evans · Oliver Smithies

    The mouse had been the workhorse of medical research for a century before anyone had a reliable way to alter a specific gene within it. Mario Capecchi and Oliver Smithies independently worked out, through the 1980s, how to exploit the cell's own homologous recombination machinery to replace a target gene with a modified version — gene targeting, the ability to knock out or precisely edit any chosen sequence. Martin Evans had, in the meantime, established embryonic stem cell lines from mouse blastocysts, providing the cell type in which the targeting could be done and then carried into a living animal. Together the techniques made it possible to create mice missing any gene the researcher specified — and therefore to build living models of cystic fibrosis, Alzheimer's disease, particular cancers, and hundreds of other conditions where a specific gene's contribution could finally be interrogated directly. The Lasker came in 2001; the Nobel followed in 2007, recognising the same trio for the same achievement, which suggests the Lasker committee had correctly identified what mattered well before Stockholm caught up.

  • Lasker Award (Clinical Medical Research)

    Conceived in a Glass Dish

    Albert Lasker Clinical Medical Research Award

    Robert Edwards

    Robert Edwards had been trying to fertilise a human egg outside the body since the 1950s, a project that attracted scepticism from funding bodies, hostility from the Church, and sustained ridicule from a medical establishment that considered the goal either impossible or improper. Working eventually with the gynaecologist Patrick Steptoe, who could retrieve eggs by laparoscopy, Edwards spent the late 1960s and 1970s perfecting the culture conditions, timing, and transfer protocols that would actually work. Louise Brown was born in Oldham on 25 July 1978 — the first person whose conception had occurred in a glass dish — and Edwards spent the following decades watching the technique spread, standardise, and become routine. By 2001 more than a million children had been born by IVF; by the time of his Nobel in 2010 that number had grown past four million, and it has continued accelerating since. A world without Edwards is one in which infertility is simply a verdict, not a condition amenable to treatment.

Discoveries

  • Draft human genome sequence published

    Thirty Thousand Instructions, Used Differently

    The race to sequence the human genome had run in public and private parallel for years, with the International Human Genome Sequencing Consortium — a publicly funded coalition spread across twenty institutions on three continents — working against Craig Venter's Celera Genomics, which had entered late and moved fast. On 15 February 2001, Nature published the consortium's analysis; Science published Celera's the following day. The draft covered more than ninety percent of the euchromatic genome and arrived with a surprise that deflated one assumption immediately: rather than the hundred thousand genes that biologists had long estimated from the genome's complexity, the count appeared to be somewhere around thirty thousand protein-coding genes — roughly twice what a fruit fly carries, not five times as many. The nematode worm Caenorhabditis elegans, with its nine hundred and fifty-nine somatic cells, managed its affairs with a comparable gene count. What makes us elaborate, the draft quietly announced, is not how many instructions we have but what we do with them.

  • Sodium detected in an exoplanet atmosphere

    A Sodium Shadow Over a Distant Furnace

    The planet HD 209458 b — a hot Jupiter roughly two-thirds the mass of our own, orbiting its star every 3.5 days at a scorching proximity — had already become the first extrasolar planet confirmed to transit its host star when, in 2001, astronomers using the Hubble Space Telescope's Space Telescope Imaging Spectrograph trained it on the transit and watched what the starlight did. Sodium, at 589 nanometres, left a characteristic dip as the planet's atmosphere filtered the light during passage. It was the first atom detected in the atmosphere of any world beyond our solar system. The technique — transmission spectroscopy, reading the atmosphere's chemical fingerprint in the thin arc of stellar light that passes through it — has since been applied to dozens of exoplanet atmospheres, identifying water vapour, carbon dioxide, methane, and eventually, with the James Webb Space Telescope, signatures that would once have seemed improbably ambitious. The whole enterprise of exoplanet atmospheric chemistry began with a sodium signal over a broiling gas giant twenty years before the instruments that would transform the field were even launched.

  • Light brought to a standstill in the laboratory

    A Memory Made of Frozen Light

    Light travels through vacuum at roughly 300,000 kilometres per second; through glass or water it slows modestly. Through a Bose-Einstein condensate cooled to near absolute zero, a group led by Lene Hau at Harvard had already slowed it to 17 metres per second in 1999 — the speed of a bicycle. In 2001, two groups independently took the next step: they stopped it entirely. The trick exploits a quantum optical effect called electromagnetically induced transparency, in which a control laser makes the medium transparent to a probe laser carrying information; turning off the control laser freezes the probe's information as a coherent spin pattern impressed on the atoms, preserved until the control laser is switched back on and the light pulse resumes its journey. The information is not destroyed; it is held, waiting, in the quantum state of the atoms. It is, in a precise technical sense, a memory for light — and it pointed toward quantum networks in which information encoded in photons can be stored, retrieved, and routed on demand.

Milestones

  • NEAR Shoemaker lands on asteroid Eros

    A Spacecraft Not Built to Land, Landed Anyway

    The NEAR Shoemaker spacecraft had been orbiting asteroid 433 Eros for a year, mapping it at resolutions no ground-based telescope could approach, when mission controllers at the Johns Hopkins Applied Physics Laboratory decided to attempt something that had never been in the original plan: a controlled descent to the surface. On 12 February 2001, NEAR Shoemaker spiralled down and touched the regolith at roughly 1.5 metres per second — a gentle walking pace — and survived. It had never been designed to land; there were no landing legs, no airbags, no bouncing. It simply sat down and kept transmitting, returning surface-level data for another sixteen days before the battery finally gave out. Eros is a lumpy, cratered rock some thirty-three kilometres long, covered in boulders and fine dust, and the images from the final descent remain the closest look anyone has achieved of an S-type asteroid. NEAR Shoemaker had done everything asked of it and then quietly insisted on doing more.

  • 2001 Mars Odyssey enters orbit

    Ice Found Waiting Beneath the Poles

    Mars Odyssey launched in April 2001 and arrived at Mars on 24 October, firing its engine to insert itself into a highly elliptical orbit and then spending the next three months using aerobraking — dipping into the upper atmosphere on each pass to shed energy gradually — to settle into its intended circular mapping orbit. The primary instrument, the Thermal Emission Imaging System, mapped the distribution of minerals across the Martian surface in unprecedented detail, finding evidence of hydrated minerals that had formed in the presence of water, and the spacecraft's gamma-ray spectrometer detected hydrogen near the poles in quantities consistent with subsurface ice — a finding that informed everything that followed in Mars exploration, from Phoenix to MAVEN. As of writing, Odyssey remains in operation, the longest-serving spacecraft ever to orbit another planet, relaying data from later missions and still conducting its own observations more than two decades after arrival — an engineering longevity that its designers are presumably too polite to boast about.

  • First space tourist reaches the ISS

    Twenty Million Dollars for Eight Days in Orbit

    Dennis Tito had made his money in investment management and spent part of it on a dream that NASA made no effort to share. The American space agency had objected strenuously to his proposed visit, arguing that an untrained civilian aboard the International Space Station would be a distraction and a liability; the Russians, who had agreed to carry him and were in no position to be dismissive of twenty million dollars, were less concerned. Tito launched aboard Soyuz TM-32 on 28 April 2001, spent nearly eight days aboard the station — reportedly spending most of the time in the Russian segment, where he was welcome — and returned safely on 6 May. He later described it as the best experience of his life, which is the kind of thing a person can say when the experience cost twenty million dollars and involved two weeks of training that no space agency would call adequate. Whether he was a pioneer or a paying passenger remains a matter of perspective; the commercial spaceflight industry that followed chose to regard him as the former.

  • First self-contained artificial heart implanted

    A Heart Powered Through Unbroken Skin

    Every previous artificial heart had required tubes passing through the patient's skin to deliver power or remove heat, creating permanent infection risks and severely limiting mobility. The AbioCor, developed by Abiomed, solved this with a transcutaneous energy transfer system that inductively coupled power through intact skin — no breach, no tubes, no tether to a machine beside the bed. On 2 July 2001, surgeons at Jewish Hospital in Louisville implanted the device in Robert Tools, a fifty-nine-year-old with end-stage biventricular heart failure who had been given days to live. He survived for 151 days, long enough to leave the hospital and visit his family, before dying on 30 November. The AbioCor was not a cure and was not intended as one; it was a bridge for patients with no other options, and the trials that followed identified both the device's capabilities and its limitations with the bluntness that comes from implanting something whose failure is immediately fatal. The goal of an implantable total artificial heart that patients carry and forget about, as they have largely learned to do with pacemakers, remains imperfectly achieved — but it was Tito who established that the approach was not impossible.

  • Wikipedia launches

    A Side Project Outgrows Its Encyclopedia

    Nupedia had been the plan: a free online encyclopaedia written by credentialled experts, rigorously peer-reviewed, and consequently producing about two dozen articles a year at a pace that suggested it would reach comprehensive coverage sometime around the heat death of the universe. Wikipedia began on 15 January 2001 as a side project — a wiki that would generate draft articles quickly enough to feed Nupedia's review process — and immediately made Nupedia's deliberate approach look like a policy choice rather than a constraint. By the end of 2001 Wikipedia had tens of thousands of articles in multiple languages and was growing faster than anyone was measuring carefully enough to predict. It attracted cranks, partisans, vandals, and an improbable number of people who simply wanted to write accurate encyclopedia articles for free, and somehow the last group managed to remain marginally in charge. The model it proved — that a sufficiently large community of volunteers, given adequate tools and no pay, will collectively produce something more reliable than cynicism allows — remains the most counterintuitive fact the internet has demonstrated.

  • Death of Claude Shannon

    The Bit, and Everything Built From It

    Claude E. Shannon

    Claude Shannon spent his last years at a care facility in Medford, Massachusetts, with Alzheimer's disease — a sad diminishment for a mind that had once juggled while riding a unicycle down the corridors of Bell Labs and designed machines to solve the Rubik's Cube before the Rubik's Cube existed. He died on 24 February 2001, aged eighty-four. His 1948 paper, "A Mathematical Theory of Communication," had achieved the rare feat of founding an entire discipline in a single document: the concept of the bit, the mathematical definition of information as entropy, the proof that any noisy channel has a maximum rate at which information can be transmitted without error, and the demonstration that this rate could be approached arbitrarily closely with the right coding. Every piece of digital communication that has happened since — every compressed image, every mobile phone call, every streaming film — works within bounds that Shannon established and draws on encoding strategies he inspired. The field of information theory is so completely his creation that it is not entirely clear what it would be called if he had not built it.

  • Death of Fred Hoyle

    Right About the Stars, Wrong About the Bang

    Sir Fred Hoyle

    Fred Hoyle had the distinction of being right about almost everything in stellar nucleosynthesis and wrong about almost everything in cosmology, and he pursued both positions with identical conviction. His 1957 paper with William Fowler, Margaret Burbidge, and Geoffrey Burbidge — known as B2FH — showed in meticulous detail how stars forge every element heavier than helium in their nuclear furnaces and scatter them across the galaxy when they die; the iron in your blood and the calcium in your bones were made in stars that burned out before the sun was born, and it was Hoyle who worked out the mechanism. He coined the term "Big Bang" in 1949 during a BBC radio broadcast, intending the phrase as a derisory label for a theory he thought absurd; the name was so vivid it stuck, which must have been annoying. He went on to advocate panspermia, propose that the Archaeopteryx fossils were forgeries, and claim that flu epidemics arrived from space, none of which turned out to be correct. He died on 20 August 2001 in Bournemouth, aged eighty-six, having explained the origin of most of the atoms in the universe and declined, with characteristic stubbornness, to accept the explanation for the universe itself.