Crop circles

Nasca-influenced crop circleBoingBoing is currently playing host to one Jaques Vallee as guestblogger, and he’s been riling up the (admittedly easily-riled) BB comment-swarm by talking with some degree of seriousness about crop circles. [image by trodas]

I’ve got a real weak spot for crop circles, because I grew up in a part of the UK countryside where they have always been prevalent, and because as a teenager I was already waist-deep in genre fiction, occultism and conspiracy theory (yeah, I’ve totally seen the fnords, man). Nowadays I consider myself to be a lot more critical and rational than I was back then… albeit tempered with an awareness of how compelling the less-than-rational explanations for odd occurrences can be. In other words, I try not to knee-jerk on weird happenings (though I don’t always succeed – I’m still human, or at least I was last time I looked).

Now, the rational explanation for crop circles is that they’re man-made hoaxes, and indeed, some of them are almost certainly exactly that. But Vallee trots out some items that lend a certain degree of credence to a rather wilder theory… namely that the tin-foil hat brigade are right, and that crop circles are evidence of some sort of energy weapon research:

(1) the phenomenon began with single circles that English and U.S. weather scientists first tried to explain as atmospheric vortices. Soon there were multiple circles in various geometric combinations, and in following years the designs became increasingly complex, leading to the idea that we were witnessing a classic, step-by-step program of technology development–not an atmospheric anomaly but not some sort of paranormal effect either.

(2) Given that SOME of the patterns were obviously man-made hoaxes, it was possible to compare the effect on the plants in genuine versus bogus patterns. Under the microscope the results were clear: if you push a board across a wheat field to flatten it, you will break the stalks between nodes because the nodes are thicker and stronger. But in the unexplained, complex patterns the nodes themselves were exploded, often keeping the fibers intact. Conclusion: something was coupling energy into the plants in the form of heat (as one of the respondents to my first post actually stated). Therefore the idea of a beam weapon is indeed one of the scenarios to consider.

(3) The crop circles are close to ancient megalithic sites, which excites the curiosity of New Age tourists from America, but they are even closer to the most highly classified military electronics labs in Britain. In fact the roads to some of the fields run between two high fences behind which defense companies are doing research, and Army helicopters routinely patrol the area.

Now, I’m not suggesting that the points above make a conclusive and compelling case, but the second item points out that, if the more complex crop circles are hoaxes, then they’re being hoaxed using a method of which we’re not yet aware, and by a group more sophisticated in its thinking and planning than the drunken agriculture students who are traditionally blamed for them.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this, really, except to say that as useful a tool as Occam’s Razor may be, it falls down in situations where the evidence is insufficient, inconclusive, or both. And that sometimes finding the simplest answer to a question merely throws up more questions, often not so easily answered.

Or to put it another way: if we assume the complex-patterned crop formations that feature burst nodes in the damaged corn are all hoaxes, who are the hoaxers? What are their methods, their motivations? I’m in no way suggesting that I’m sold on the idea of crop circles being energy weapon research detritus (if that were the case, why would the military researchers have made them consistently larger and more prone to attract public attention as the years have passed?), but once you start looking at the questions arising from the simple rational answer, the simple rational answer stops looking quite so simple and rational.

It’s thought-trains like this that make me miss Mac Tonnies. I have a great admiration for people who actively court the sort of public reaction that Vallee bemoans in his BoingBoing post; even if they’re wrong, I think they’re doing something very important for our culture as a species.

Shine anthology contributors interviewed

The SF Signal gang have turned over the microphone (er, keyboard) to Charles Tan to publish a set of interviews with the authors whose stories appear in the Shine anthology of optimistic science fiction, mentioned here many times previously. Shine features a decent number of Futurismic fiction alumni, and hence regular readers may be interested to see the interviews with Silvia Moreno-Garcia and Jason Stoddard which have already appeared.

I’ll be reviewing Shine here at Futurismic just as soon as my life circumstances have handed me sufficient time to read it and bash out some words in response (things are still a little fraught, in case you were wonderin’). In the meantime, have any of you lot bought a copy of Shine and, if so, what did you think? And if you’re not interested in buying a copy (for any reason other than not having the money spare), why is that?

William Gibson on the cyberpunk obsession with brands

Having recently completed his forthcoming novel Zero History, William Gibson is kicking back at his blog and fielding questions from the intertubes; if you want an insight into the man’s attitudes and philosophies (toward his work, and the world in general), you’d be well advised to tune in.

This one particularly caught my eye, because it calls out a foible I’ve always noticed in Gibson’s writing (and Chairman Bruce’s, too, though to a different degree) – his fetish for explicitly dropping in brand names and obsessional detail about clothing, hardware and vehicles. Gibson’s justification is charming, not least because I’ve always had a similar sort of obsession*:

Q Why do you seem obsessed with brand name apparel et al in Pattern Recognition and Spook Country?

A You ain’t seen nothing, yet! Actually the new one may explain that, a bit. Or just further convince some people that I’m obsessed. It’s one of the ways in which I feel I understand how the world works, and there aren’t really that many of those. It’s not about clothes, though, or branding; it’s about code, subtext. I was really delighted, for instance, to learn who made George Bush’s raincoats. A company in Little Rock (now extinct, alas) but they were made of Ventile, a British cotton so tightly woven that you can make fire hoses (and RAF ocean survival suits) out of it. Which exists because Churchill demanded it, because the Germans had all the flax production sewn up. No flax, no fire hoses for the Blitz. The cultural complexities that put that particular material on Bush’s back delight me deeply; it’s a kind of secret history (and not least because most people would find it fantastically boring, I imagine).

Brands are stories, in and of themselves. I wonder if the cultural histories of consumer goods are one of the few types of narrative that can survive postmodern erosion?

[ * There’s a part of me that always hates noting similarities like this, because it feels like my brain trying to tell me “oh yeah, you’re just like him, bravo you!” Anyone else get that kind of feeling when they read author interviews or blogs? ]

The ethics of pirating ebooks

Via Ars Technica, here’s a New York Times columnist reframing the pirated-ebooks debate as an ethical issue rather than a legal one, in response to a question asking whether it was wrong to download a pirated ebook version of a book already owned in hardcopy. His answer: it’s not legal, but it could be arged to be perfectly ethical. Although that ethical assessment rather hinges on one’s perspective:

Unsurprisingly, many in the book business take a harder line. My friend Jamie Raab, the publisher of Grand Central Publishing and an executive vice president of the Hachette Book Group, says: “Anyone who downloads a pirated e-book has, in effect, stolen the intellectual property of an author and publisher. To condone this is to condone theft.”

Yet it is a curious sort of theft that involves actually paying for a book. Publishers do delay the release of e-books to encourage hardcover sales — a process called “windowing” — so it is difficult to see you as piratical for actually buying the book ($35 list price, $20 from Amazon) rather than waiting for the $9.99 Kindle edition.

I tuned out a lot of the fine-detail wrangling over the Amazon/Macmillan debacle and the events that followed in its wake (simply because I didn’t have the spare time to read it all), so I’m unaware whether the notion of a blanket ownership license (e.g. where buying a hardcopy gives you rights to an electronic copy as well) was ever put forward.

It’s no cure for piracy, of course, but it’s an option that at least acknowledges some of the unaddressed issues currently surrounding content available in multiple formats. I’m somewhat heartened to see that the publishers are thinking hard about it, and publicly; hopefully, if they continue to avoid doing an ostrich impersonation, they won’t go the way of the record labels.

Further evidence that ebook piracy is a geek-o-sphere topic du jour: if Diesel Sweeties is satirising it, you know an issue has really arrived. 🙂

Presenting the fact and fiction of tomorrow since 2001