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By Suzanne OConnell, Wesleyan University 

Who doesn’t love a good story, especially one about amazing discoveries in Earth’s farthest reaches? Oceanographer, Navy veteran and explorer Robert D. Ballard has written a memoir, “Into the Deep,” that recounts many of his dramatic discoveries, including locating the wreck of the luxury ocean liner Titanic in 1985.

Ballard, now 79, is known for designing and using many types of vehicles for underwater exploration. His most important scientific contributions include mapping regions of the mid-Atlantic Ridge, an underwater mountain chain that runs north-south through the Atlantic ocean, and locating hydrothermal vents in the eastern Pacific. These underwater hot springs form at cracks in the ocean’s crust, where superheated water jets upward from Earth’s interior. Finding them changed scientists’ thinking about the evolution of life on Earth and the chemistry of the ocean.

I’m a geoscientist who studies Earth’s oceans and climate and first met Ballard when I worked at the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution in 1978. I’m keenly aware of his contributions to ocean science, as well as his work to popularize ocean exploration and inspire people to become scientists. “Into the Deep” captures much of what it’s like to do this work, including less glamorous aspects like raising money, building research teams and standing watch on deck for hours. Science, especially marine research, is not a solo effort – and the discovery of hydrothermal vents is a prime example.

Tube worms, anemones and mussels clustered near a hydrothermal vent on the Galapagos Rift.
NOAA Okeanos Explorer Program, Galapagos Rift Expedition 2011/Flickr, CC BY

Mapping the seafloor

In the early 1970s, when Ballard was doing his graduate work in marine geology and geophysics, scientists were still refining the basics of plate tectonics theory. One key idea was that new ocean crust was created at spreading centers in the seafloor, where oceanic plates moved away from each other and magma from Earth’s interior welled up between them.

A 1972 study of a spreading center in the eastern Pacific, near the Galapagos Islands, observed that the water temperature was slightly warmer near parts of the spreading center – a surprising find at depths of 8,000 to 9,000 feet (2,440 to 2,750 meters) – but cooled rapidly as it flowed away from the site. This suggested that hydrothermal vents might be present.

In 1974 Ballard took part in Project FAMOUS, which used the U.S. manned submersible Alvin and a French submersible to explore the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Researchers descended 8,000 feet into deep rift valleys on the ocean floor, and ascended to the adjacent rift mountains at depths of about 3,300 feet (1,000 meters). Fresh basalt suggested recent volcanic activity and the creation of new ocean crust, but their survey did not locate hydrothermal vents.

Meanwhile, other researchers were exploring the Galapagos spreading center. In 1976 Kathleen Crane, a graduate student at the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, investigated marine heat flow in that area for her doctoral research. To do this she navigated an elaborate deep-ocean exploration machine, Deep Tow, which was pulled behind a research vessel near the ocean floor and transmitted data back to the ship.

Crane’s measurements identified hot springs. Photographs showed clam shells nearby. She dropped acoustic transponders marking the site that she called “Clambake” for future research.

A year later, scientists returned to the area with Alvin and a different deep-towed vehicle, ANGUS, that could travel closer to the ocean floor, providing better photographs and thermal measurements. Ballard and Crane both were on this expedition, along with other researchers from Oregon State University, MIT, Stanford, the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution and Scripps.

The new photographs allowed the scientists to pinpoint the most important dive sites. They made 24 dives in Alvin. At the hot spots, they were stunned to find dense clusters of shellfish, anemones, crabs, tube worms and other organisms around vents in the ocean floor where hot water rose up from below. Analysis showed that these organisms were performing chemosynthesis – creating energy from chemicals in the seawater, in complete darkness.

Disappointingly, all that Ballard says in “Into the Deep” about Crane’s role in this discovery is that researchers from Scripps had scanned the area in 1976 using Deep Tow and “detected a few subtle temperature anomalies.” In the scramble for credit in important scientific discoveries it can be difficult, if not impossible, to clearly identify who made the discovery. In a collective effort, who should be recognized?

Crane, whom I have known since 1978, was listed as a co-author on the 1979 paper in the journal Science that described the hydrothermal vents, and went on to a distinguished career studying oceans and the Arctic. But her role in this discovery has received relatively little credit in popular accounts. As I see it, Ballard’s memoir would have been a perfect opportunity to acknowledge her contribution to one of the most important ocean science discoveries of the 20th century.

Finding lost ships

Ballard received much wider acclaim when he led the expedition that found the RMS Titanic in 1985. This trip was financed by the U.S. Navy – not out of interest in the Titanic, but as an add-on to secret studies of the wreckage of two nuclear-powered attack submarines, the USS Scorpion and the USS Thresher, which sank in the 1960s.

On Sept. 1, 1985, Ballard and his team captured the first photos of Titanic’s remains, 2.4 miles (3.8 kilometers) below the Atlantic Ocean’s surface and almost 400 miles (600 kilometers) south-southeast of Newfoundland. They found the wreck using Argo, a new deep-towed sonar and video camera system, to search back and forth over a 100-square-mile area of the seafloor. Ocean scientists call this process “mowing the lawn,” hoping and praying that something new will be revealed.

After Titanic, Ballard tracked down other well-known lost ships. In 1989 he and his crew located the Bismarck, a German World War II battleship sunk by Allied forces in the North Atlantic in 1941. And in 2002 they found PT-109, the patrol boat skippered by 26-year-old John F. Kennedy, which sank in the South Pacific in 1943 when it was rammed by a Japanese destroyer.

By 2008 Ballard had led five expeditions to the Black Sea, where oxygen-depleted deep water preserved ancient vessels and their cargo. Scientists are still probing and analyzing these archaeological time capsules.

All hands on deck

In recent decades, Ballard has put much effort into increasing diversity in oceanographic exploration and research, especially gender diversity. The Jason Learning project, which Ballard founded in 1989 to spark K-12 students’ interest in science, technology, engineering and math through the excitement of ocean research, features many women. His Ocean Exploration Trust research vessel, the E.V. Nautilus – named after Captain Nemo’s submarine in Jules Verne’s classic “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea” – has many women as permanent crew members, something that would have been unheard of 50 years ago.

For me, working with a skilled crew of scientists and technicians aboard ship is one of the most exciting aspects of marine research. No one can be an expert on all of the components of our planet’s amazing ocean system, from tiny plankton floating in surface currents to tectonic plates spreading and colliding underwater. Being at sea with other marine scientists has provided tremendous joy in my career.

There is a lot to discover about the ocean, and we need all kinds of talent to do it. Ballard’s talent lies in his construction and use of remotely operated vehicles to explore the seafloor, and his storytelling and fundraising capabilities, which provide inspiration for future generations of ocean explorers.

About the Author:

Suzanne OConnell, Professor of Earth and Environmental Sciences, Wesleyan University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By Theodore J. Kury, University of Florida 

As the Biden administration and Republicans negotiate a possible infrastructure spending package, how to pay for it has been a key sticking point.

President Joe Biden and Democrats in Congress want to raise taxes on the rich, while some Republicans have been pushing for an increase in the gas tax – which would be the first in 28 years. A bipartisan group of senators recently crafted a compromise bill that would pay for just under US$1 trillion in spending on rail, roads and bridges over five years in part by indexing the gas tax to inflation. Democrats call this regressive because it would raise taxes on working Americans.

As the director of energy studies at the University of Florida’s Public Utility Research Center, I’ve studied both taxes on energy and how the government spends money on infrastructure.

Throughout the gas tax’s controversial history, leaders have frequently called upon this revenue source when serious infrastructure investment is needed.

The first 40 years

This resilient levy is a major source of U.S. funding for roads and transit today. It originated during the Great Depression as a “temporary” penny-per-gallon gasoline tax. At the time, a gallon cost about 18 cents, or about $2.90 in 2021 dollars.

As he signed the Revenue Act of 1932 into law, President Herbert Hoover lauded “the willingness of our people to accept this added burden in these times in order impregnably to establish the credit of the federal government.”

The original gas tax, an emergency measure intended to bolster the budget and fund national defense spending, not to meet transportation needs, was slated to expire in 1933. Instead, persistent budget deficits throughout the New Deal and World War II kept it in force throughout Franklin D. Roosevelt’s administration over the objections of the oil, automotive and travel industries. It became a permanent 1.5-cent levy in 1941.

Multiple efforts to do away with the gas tax ever since have failed.

For example, Congress again scheduled the tax’s repeal in 1951 when it increased it to 2 cents as a source of revenue related to the Korean War. Instead, lawmakers agreed to keep the tax on the books to help pay for one of President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s top priorities, the national interstate highway system.

In 1956 the levy rose once more, to 3 cents, when Americans were paying about 30 cents for a gallon of gas. At the same time, the government established the Highway Trust Fund to use the gas tax revenue to pay for building and maintaining the new interstates.

The tax rose to 4 cents per gallon in 1959 and froze at that level for more than two decades.

Running on empty

Gas tax revenue stopped keeping up with the expenses it was supposed to cover in the early 1970s following a severe bout of inflation and OPEC’s oil embargo. U.S. gas prices soared from about 36 cents per gallon in 1972 to $1.31 in 1981.

Responding to what members of both major political parties saw as a transportation infrastructure crisis, Congress more than doubled the tax to 9 cents per gallon as part of the Surface Transportation Assistance Act of 1982. The same law split the Highway Trust Fund and its revenue stream into two parts: The first 8 cents would finance roadwork while the other penny would finance mass transit projects.

This hike may have struck drivers as a sharp increase, but public spending on transportation infrastructure would continue to fall as a percentage of all outlays.

In 1984, Congress increased spending on highways by funneling proceeds from fines and other penalties that businesses pay for safety violations, such as failing to label hazardous materials or forcing drivers to work too many hours in a row.

Congress boosted the tax twice more in the 1990s but primarily to reduce the then-ballooning federal deficit. Only half of a 5-cent increase in 1990 went to highways and transit, while a 4.3-cent lift three years later went entirely to lowering the deficit.

By 1997, the government had redirected all gas tax revenue reserved for deficit reduction to the Highway Trust Fund, where it still flows today.

Along the way, other federal fuel taxes arose, including a 24.4-cent-per-gallon diesel tax and taxes on methanol and compressed natural gas. And state fuel taxes, which in most cases began before the federal gas tax, range from as low as 8.95 cents per gallon in Alaska to as high as 57.6 cents per gallon in Pennsylvania.

Making do

Since 1993, when the federal gas tax was first parked at 18.4 cents, inflation and rising construction costs have eroded its effectiveness as a transportation-related revenue source. In addition, U.S. vehicles have grown more fuel-efficient overall – which means Americans use less fuel for every mile they drive.

As a result, highway and transit spending has significantly outpaced the revenue collected from the gas tax and other sources. Since 2008, the government has transferred over $80 billion to the fund that it had to take from other sources.

But it’s still not enough. The American Society of Civil Engineers, which gives U.S. infrastructure a C-minus, is calling on the government and private sector to increase spending on roads and bridges by at least $2.5 trillion within a decade.

While it’s true the gas tax may be regressive because lower-income people pay the same rate as those who earn higher incomes, there are still advantages to this tax.

For one thing, it follows the “user pays” principle of providing government services. Under this principle, the people using the roads are held responsible for paying for their upkeep. As the number of motorists using electric vehicles increases, however, this may become less true over time.

Further, it would also create an incentive to at least marginally decrease the use of fossil fuels, accomplishing another goal of the administration.

Finally, the government could always subsidize the tax for the poor, perhaps through annual lump-sum payments, making it less regressive.

Clearly, U.S. infrastructure is in dire need of upgrading and investment. At the end of the day, Americans will pay for it one way or another – whether in taxes or through costs of unsafe and inadequate infrastructure, including in lost lives. How the government pays for investment may matter less than that it finally does it.

About the Author:

This is an updated version of an article first published on Feb. 27, 2018.

Theodore J. Kury, Director of Energy Studies, University of Florida

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By David Gillum, Arizona State University and Rebecca Moritz, Colorado State University 

Due to unanswered questions into the origins of the coronavirus pandemic, both the U.S. government and scientists have called for a deeper examination into the validity of claims that a virus could have escaped from a lab in Wuhan, China.

Much of the discussion surrounds “gain-of-function” research. So The Conversation asked David Gillum and Rebecca Moritz, who work closely with virologists on a day-to-day basis to ensure the safety and security of the research, and Sam Weiss Evans and Megan Palmer, who are science and technology policy experts, to explain what this term means and why this kind of research is important.

What does gain of function mean?

Any organism can acquire a new ability or property, or “gain” a “function.” This can happen through natural selection or a researcher’s experiments. In research, many different types of experiments generate functions, and some pose certain safety and security concerns.

Scientists use a variety of techniques to modify organisms depending on the properties of the organism itself and the end goal. Some of these methods involve directly making changes at the level of genetic code. Others may involve placing organisms in environments that select for functions linked to genetic changes.

Gain of function can occur in an organism in either nature or the laboratory. Some lab examples include creating more salt- and drought-resistant plants or modifying disease vectors to produce mosquitoes that are resistant to transmitting dengue fever. Gain of function can also be useful for environmental reasons, such as modifying E. coli so that it can convert plastic waste into a valuable commodity.

In the current debate around SARS-CoV-2, the virus that causes COVID-19, gain of function has a much narrower meaning related to a virus becoming easier to move between humans, or becoming more lethal in humans. It is important to remember, though, that the term “gain of function” by itself covers much more than this type of research.

Why would researchers do gain-of-function work on potentially dangerous pathogens?

Gain-of-function experiments may help researchers test scientific theories, develop new technologies and find treatments for infectious diseases. For example, in 2003, when the original SARS-CoV outbreak occurred, researchers developed a method to study the virus in the laboratory. One of the experiments was to grow the virus in mice so they could study it. This work led to a model for researching the virus and testing potential vaccines and treatments.

Gain-of-function research that focuses on potential pandemic pathogens has been supported on the premise that it will help researchers better understand the evolving pathogenic landscape, be better prepared for a pandemic response and develop treatments and countermeasures.

But critics argue that this research to anticipate potential pandemic pathogens does not lead to substantial benefit and is not worth the potential risks. And they say getting out ahead of such threats can be achieved through other means – biological research and otherwise. For instance, the current pandemic has provided numerous lessons on the social and behavioral dynamics of disease prevention measures, which could lead to robust new research programs on the cultural aspects of pandemic preparedness. Understanding when the risks of gain-of-function research outweigh the potential benefits and alternatives, therefore, continues to be subject to debate.

What are some examples of gain-of-function research, and how risky is it?

Some potential outcomes of gain-of-function research may include the creation of organisms that are more transmissible or more virulent than the original organism or those that evade current detection methods and available treatments. Other examples include engineering organisms that can evade current detection methods and available treatments, or grow in another part of an organism, such as the ability to cross the blood-brain barrier.

There is no such thing as zero risk in conducting experiments. So the question is whether certain gain-of-function research can be performed at an acceptable level of safety and security by utilizing risk-mitigation measures. These strategies for reducing risk include the use of biocontainment facilities, exposure control plans, strict operating procedures and training, incident response planning and much more. These efforts involve dedication and meticulous attention to detail at multiple levels of an institution.

Lab incidents will still occur. A robust biosafety and biosecurity system, along with appropriate institutional response, helps to ensure that these incidents are inconsequential. The challenge is to make sure that any research conducted – gain-of-function or otherwise – doesn’t pose unreasonable risks to researchers, the public and the environment.

Determining whether specific experiments with potential pathogens should be conducted remains a difficult and contentious topic.

How do experts determine which gain-of-function research poses too much risk?

There are multiple ways to answer this question. The first is if the research is intended to develop a biological weapon. The United Nations Biological Weapons Convention, which went into effect in 1975, forbids state parties from developing, producing, stockpiling, or otherwise acquiring or sharing biological agents, toxins and equipment that have no justification for peaceful or defensive purposes. There should be no research, then, whether gain-of-function or otherwise, that seeks to purposefully develop a biological weapon.

Another way to answer the question is by focusing on the content of the research, rather than its intent. Through experience, researchers and governments have developed lists of both experiments and organisms that need additional oversight because of their potential safety and security risks. One example of this arose when flu researchers placed a self-imposed pause on gain-of-function research involving the transmissibility of highly pathogenic avian influenza H5N1 viruses in 2012. The U.S. government subsequently imposed a moratorium on the work in 2014. Both moratoriums were lifted by the end of 2017 following a lengthy debate and study of the risks and the development of additional oversight and reporting requirements.

In the past decade, the United States has developed oversight for research that could be directly misused for nefarious purposes. This includes policies on
“dual-use research of concern” (DURC) and policies on “pathogens of pandemic potential” enhanced to gain transmissibility or virulence.

The main point is that our understanding is constantly evolving. Just before the COVID-19 pandemic began, the U.S. government had started to review and update its policies. It is an open question what lessons will be learned from this pandemic, and how that will reshape our understanding of the value of gain-of-function research. One thing that is likely to happen, though, is that we will rethink the assumptions we have been making about the relationships between biological research, security and society. This may be an opportunity to review and enhance systems of biosecurity and biosafety governance.

About the Author:

David Gillum, Senior Director of Environmental Health and Safety and Chief Safety Officer, Arizona State University and Rebecca Moritz, Biosafety Director and Responsible Official, Colorado State University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

By Nader Habibi, Brandeis University 

Iran’s conservative rulers’ effort to orchestrate the outcome of the June 18 presidential election triggered a voter boycott – but the result may still bode well for ongoing negotiations over the lapsed 2015 nuclear deal.

Iran’s Interior Ministry on June 19 announced that the winner is Ebrahim Raisi, chief of Iran’s judiciary and close ally of the supreme leader. He was all but assured of victory after the candidates who could have posed a serious challenge to him – including three reformists – were disqualified and prevented from participating in the election.

The unprecedented disqualifications outraged large groups of liberal and moderate voters, and many boycotted the election. As a result, the turnout was just 49%.

But who is Ebrahim Raisi, and how will his presidency alter Iran’s domestic and foreign policies? As an economist and close observer of Iran, I believe we can start to answer these questions by exploring his past.

Loyal insider

Raisi is a loyal regime insider with a long career in Iran’s judicial branch, which goes back more than four decades.

He was only 19 when the Islamic revolution deposed the shah in 1979. As a young Islamic activist, he caught the attention of several top revolutionary clerics, including Ali Khamenei, who became Iran’s supreme leader a decade later.

Named the general-prosecutor of Kataj – a small city near Tehran – at age 20, Raisi quickly rose to more prominent positions. In 1989, when Khamenei replaced Ruhollah Khomeini as supreme leader, Raisi was promoted to chief prosecutor-general of Tehran.

This promotion reflected the high level of trust that Khamenei had in him. While serving in these positions, Raisi also attended seminary and religious studies under Khamenei and other influential religious leaders.

Executing dissidents and fighting corruption

During the first decade of his career, Raisi convicted a large number of dissidents and political opponents of the Islamic regime and sentenced many of them to death.

Regime critics and his political opponents have condemned his direct role in these executions, particularly the large number of political prisoners who were executed in 1988.

From 1994 to 2004, Raisi served as head of Iran’s general inspector office, which is responsible for preventing abuse of power and corruption in government institutions. It was in this position that he developed a reputation as a crusader against government corruption. Even as he was appointed as the first deputy chief justice in 2004 and finally promoted to chief justice in March 2019, he continued his fight against corruption by prosecuting many government officials.

His critics have argued, however, that his fight against corruption has been highly politicized and selective. They claimed that he targeted individuals who were affiliated with his political rivals such as President Hassan Rouhani.

Raisi first ran for president in 2017 but was defeated by Iran’s current President Hassan Rouhani, who after two terms is ineligible to run again.

In this year’s election, Raisi was the favorite candidate of the conservative right wing of the Islamic ruling elite and also enjoys the support of Ayatollah Khamenei, who has absolute power over all branches of government. Khamenei also directly appoints half of the 12-member Council of Guardians, which oversees all political elections and has the power to disqualify candidates without any public explanation. Khamenei publicly endorsed and defended the disqualifications.

Likely return to the nuclear deal

One of the institutional weaknesses of Iran’s political system since the 1979 Islamic revolution is the potential for tension and disagreement between the elected presidents and the supreme leader.

That is, unlike in the U.S. system of government, the Iranian president’s powers are extremely limited. For example, a reformist president may want to engage more with the West or stay out of a foreign conflict, but the supreme leader could overrule or simply ignore him.

As a protege and close ally of the supreme leader, Raisi is expected to support Khamenei’s policies on both domestic and foreign policy – which means more coordination between the various branches of government. With the Parliament also dominated by Khamenei supporters, it also means that the conservatives will control all three branches of the government once again after eight years.

This harmony means Raisi will be a lot more effective as president because whatever policies he pursues will most likely be supported by the supreme leader.

And perhaps ironically, his victory could pave the way for a more compromising attitude on the side of Iran in the negotiations that are currently underway in Vienna for restoration of the 2015 nuclear agreement, which was derailed by former U.S. President Donald Trump in 2018.

The reason for this unconventional prediction is that both reformist and conservative factions in Iran are fully aware that a new nuclear agreement, which could end the severe economic sanctions imposed on the country, is highly popular. The team that signs the agreement will receive credit for ending the economic hardship the country is currently enduring. For example, inflation is over 50%, exports have plunged due to the sanctions and over 60% of the population is now in poverty, up from 48% just two years ago.

With Raisi president, the conservatives and the supreme leader have greater incentives to reach an agreement with the United States for lifting the sanctions as they can no longer blame a reformist president for the economic hardships.

The success of this strategy, however, is far from guaranteed.

First, if Khamenei, Raisi and their hard-line supporters insist on maintaining Iran’s confrontational foreign policy, it seems unlikely to me that the economic sanctions against Iran will ease. Not all of them are tied directly to the nuclear deal, including sanctions against Raisi himself.

Second, the growing alienation and frustration of large segments of Iran’s population – especially after reformists were banned from running for president – may still lead to mass unrest and political instability.

Supreme Leader Raisi?

Raisi’s victory may have an even more significant impact on Iran’s politics in the long run because it might pave the way for him to become Iran’s next supreme leader.

Ayatollah Khamenei is in his 80s, and a succession to a new supreme leader is considered probable in the next four years. According to many regime insiders, Raisi became the most likely person to replace Khamenei by winning the presidential election.

If Raisi eventually becomes Iran’s supreme leader, he would have far more powers to shape all types of policies. Based on his background and values, he is likely to resist political and social reforms and try to gain legitimacy for the Islamic regime by focusing on economic development in a similar fashion to the authoritarian regimes in Asia, such as China, by focusing on economic growth while curtailing political and social freedoms.

Raisi – and eventually as the supreme leader – is unlikely to abandon Iran’s anti-Western foreign policy, but he has the potential to lower the tensions to a more manageable level in order to improve Iran’s economy.

In my view, he seems to have recognized that the continuation of current economic hardships poses the largest threat to the Islamic regime in the long run.

About the Author:

Nader Habibi, Henry J. Leir Professor of Practice in Economics of the Middle East, Brandeis University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.