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Monday, September 1, 2014

National Lampoon (magazine)

National Lampoon (magazine)

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
National Lampoon (magazine)
Natlamp73.jpg
Cover of the "Death" issue in January 1973.
Categories Humor magazine
Year founded 1969, Harvard University
First issue April 1970
Final issue
— Number

November 1998 (issue 249)
Company NL Communications, Inc
Based in New York City
Language English
ISSN 0027-9587

National Lampoon was a ground-breaking American humor magazine which ran from 1970 to 1998. The magazine started out as a spinoff from the Harvard Lampoon. National Lampoon magazine reached its height of popularity and critical acclaim during the 1970s, when it had a far-reaching effect on American humor and comedy. The magazine spawned films, radio, live theatre, various kinds of recordings, and print products including books. Many members of the creative staff from the magazine subsequently went on to contribute creatively to successful media of all types.

During the magazine's most successful years, parody of every kind was a mainstay; surrealist content was also central to its appeal. Almost all the issues included long text pieces, shorter written pieces, a section of actual news items (dubbed "True Facts"), cartoons and comic strips. Most issues also included "Foto Funnies" or fumetti, which often featured nudity. The result was an unusual mix of intelligent, cutting-edge wit, and crass, bawdy frat house jesting.[1] In both cases, National Lampoon humor often pushed far beyond the boundaries of what was generally considered appropriate and acceptable. As co-founder Henry Beard described the experience years later: "There was this big door that said, 'Thou shalt not.' We touched it, and it fell off its hinges."

The magazine declined during the late 1980s and never recovered. It was kept alive minimally, but ceased publication altogether in 1998.

About the magazine

National Lampoon was started by Harvard graduates and Harvard Lampoon alumni Doug Kenney, Henry Beard and Robert Hoffman in 1969, when they first licensed the "Lampoon" name for a monthly national publication. The magazine's first issue was dated April 1970. The company that owned the magazine was called Twenty First Century Communications.

After a shaky start for a few issues, the magazine rapidly grew in popularity. Like the Harvard Lampoon, individual issues had themes, including such topics as "The Future", "Back to School", "Death", "Self-Indulgence", and "Blight". The magazine regularly reprinted material in "best-of" omnibus collections. Its writers joyfully targeted every kind of phoniness, and had no specific political stance, even though individual staff members had strong political views.
National Lampoon's fake Volkswagen Beetle print advertisement mocking Ted Kennedy's Chappaquiddick incident.

National Lampoon was a monthly magazine for most of its publication history. Numerous "special editions" were also published and sold simultaneously on newsstands. Some of the special editions were anthologies of reprinted material; others were entirely original. Additional projects included a calendar, a songbook, a collection of transfer designs for T-shirts, and a number of books. The magazine sold yellow binders with the Lampoon logo, designed to store a year's worth of issues.

Cover art

The original art directors were cartoonist Peter Bramley and Bill Skurski, founders of New York's "Cloud Studio", an alternative-culture outfit known at the time for its eclectic style. Bramley created the Lampoon's first cover and induced successful cartoonists Arnold Roth and Gahan Wilson to become regular contributors.

Beginning with the eighth issue, the art direction of the magazine was taken over by Michael C. Gross, who directed the look of the magazine until 1974. A number of the National Lampoon's most acerbic and humorous covers were designed or overseen by Gross, including:
  • Court-martialed Vietnam War mass-murderer William Calley sporting the guileless grin of Alfred E. Neuman, complete with the parody catchphrase 'What, My Lai?" (August 1971).[2]
  • The iconic Argentine revolutionary Che Guevara being splattered with a cream pie (January 1972).[3]
  • A dog looking worriedly at a revolver pressed to its head, with what became a famous caption: "If You Don't Buy This Magazine, We'll Kill This Dog" (January 1973). The cover was conceived by writer Ed Bluestone.[4][a] Photographer Ronald G. Harris initially had a hard time making the dog's plight appear humorous instead of pathetic. The solution was to cock the revolver; the clicking sound caused the dog's eyes to shift into the position shown. The most famous Lampoon cover gag, this was selected by ASME as the seventh-greatest magazine cover of the last 40 years.[4][5][6] This issue is the most coveted and collectible of all the National Lampoon's issues.
  • A replica of the starving child from the cover of George Harrison's charity album The Concert for Bangladesh, rendered in chocolate and with a large bite taken out of its head (July 1974).[7]
Michael Gross and Doug Kenney chose a young designer from Esquire Magazine named Peter Kleinman to succeed the team of Gross and David Kaestle. During his Lampoon tenure, Kleinman was also the art director of Heavy Metal magazine, published by the same company. The best known of Kleinman's Lampoon covers were "Stevie Wonder with 3-D Glasses," painted by Sol Korby;[8] a photographed "Nose to The Grindstone" cover depicting a man's face being pressed against a spinning grinder wheel for the Work issue; the "JFK's First 6000 Days Issue," featuring a portrait of an old John F. Kennedy; the "Fat Elvis" Cover which appeared a year before Elvis Presley died, and many of the Mara McAfee covers done in a classic Norman Rockwell style. Kleinman designed the logos for Animal House and Heavy Metal. Kleinman left in 1979 to open an ad agency.

He was succeeded by Skip Johnson, the designer responsible for the Sunday Newspaper Parody and the "Arab Getting Punched in the Face" cover of the Revenge Issue. Johnson went on to The New York Times. He was followed by Michael Grossman, who changed the logo and style of the magazine.

In 1984, Kleinman returned as Creative Director and went back to the 1970s logo and style, bringing back many of the artists and writers from the magazine's heyday. He left four years later to pursue a career in corporate marketing. At that time, the National Lampoon magazine entered a period of precipitous decline.

Editorial

Every regular monthly issue of the magazine had an editorial at the front of the magazine. This often appeared to be straightforward, but was always a parody. It was written by whoever was the editor of that particular issue, since that role rotated among the staff. A few issues were guest-edited.

Staff

The magazine was an outlet for some notable writing talents, including Kenney, Beard, George W. S. Trow, Chris Miller, P. J. O'Rourke, Michael O'Donoghue, Chris Rush, Sean Kelly, Tony Hendra, Brian McConnachie, Gerald Sussman, Ellis Weiner, Danny Abelson, Ted Mann, Jeff Greenfield, and John Hughes.

The work of many important cartoonists, photographers and illustrators appeared in the magazine's pages, including Neal Adams, Gahan Wilson, Michael Sullivan, Ron Barrett, Peter Bramley, Vaughn Bode, Bruce McCall, Rick Meyerowitz, M. K. Brown, Shary Flenniken, Bobby London, Edward Gorey, Jeff Jones, Joe Orlando, Arnold Roth, Rich Grote, Ed Subitzky, Mara McAfee, Sam Gross, Charles Rodrigues, Buddy Hickerson, B. K. Taylor, Birney Lettick, Frank Frazetta, Boris Vallejo, Marvin Mattelson, Stan Mack, Chris Callis, John E. Barrett, Raymond Kursar and Andy Lackow.

Comedy stars John Belushi, Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, Bill Murray, Brian Doyle Murray, Harold Ramis, and Richard Belzer first gained national attention for their performances in the National Lampoon's stage show and radio show. The first three subsequently went on to become part of Saturday Night Live's original wave of Not Ready for Primetime Players, Bill Murray replaced Chase when Chase left SNL after the first season, and Brian Doyle Murray later appeared as an SNL regular.[9] Harold Ramis went on to be a prolific director and writer working on such films as Animal House, Caddyshack, Ghostbusters, and many more. Brian Doyle Murray has had roles in dozens of films, and Belzer is an Emmy-award-winning TV actor.

Jerry Taylor aka Gerald L. Taylor was the Publisher, followed by William T. Lippe. The business side of the magazine was controlled by Matty Simmons, who was Chairman of the Board and CEO of Twenty First Century Communications, a publishing company.

True Facts

"True Facts" was a section near the front of the magazine which contained true but ridiculous items from real life. Together with the masthead, it was one of the few parts of the magazine that was factual. "True Facts" included photographs of unintentionally funny signage, extracts from ludicrous newspaper reports, strange headlines, and so on. For many years John Bendel was in charge of the "True Facts" section of the magazine. Steven Brykman edited the "True Facts" section of the National Lampoon website. Several "True Facts" compilation books were published in the 1980s and early 90s, and several all-True-Facts issues of the magazine were published during the 1980s.

Foto Funnies

Most issues of the magazine featured one or more "Foto Funny" or fumetti, comic strips that use photographs instead of drawings as illustrations. The characters who appeared in the Lampoon's Foto Funnies were usually editors or contributing editors of the magazine, often cast alongside nude or semi-nude models. In 1980, a paperback compilation book, National Lampoon Foto Funnies, was published.

Funny Pages

The "Funny Pages" was a large section at the back of the magazine that was composed entirely of comic strips of various kinds. These included work from a number of artists who also had pieces published in the main part of the magazine, including Gahan Wilson, Ed Subitzky and Vaughn Bode, as well as artists whose work was only published in this section. The regular strips included "Dirty Duck" by Bobby London, "Trots and Bonnie" by Shary Flenniken, "The Appletons" by B. K. Taylor, and "Politeness Man" by Ron Barrett, and many other strips. A compilation of Gahan Wilson's "Nuts" strip was published in 2011.

Other merchandise

From time to time the magazine advertised Lampoon-related merchandise for sale, including tee-shirts that had been especially designed.

Chronology

The magazine existed from 1970 to 1998. Many consider its finest period was 1971 to 1975, although it continued to be produced on a monthly schedule throughout the 1970s and the early 1980s and did quite well during that time.

However, during the late 1980s, a much more serious decline set in. In 1989, the company that controlled the magazine and its related projects (which was part of "Twenty First Century Communications") was the subject of a hostile takeover. In 1991 it was sold outright to another company, "J2 Communications".

At that point "National Lampoon" was considered valuable only as a brand name that could be licensed out to other companies. The magazine was issued erratically and rarely from 1991 onwards. 1998 saw the last issue.

1970

The first issue was April 1970. By November of that year Michael Gross had become the art director. He achieved a unified, sophisticated and integrated look for the magazine, which enhanced its humorous appeal.

1973–1975

National Lampoon's most successful sales period was 1973–75. Its national circulation peaked at 1,000,096 copies sold of the October 1974 "Pubescence" issue.[10] The 1974 monthly average was 830,000, which was also a peak. Former Lampoon editor Tony Hendra's book Going Too Far includes a series of precise circulation figures.

The magazine was considered by many to be at its creative zenith during this time. It should however be noted that the publishing industry's newsstand sales were excellent for many other titles during that time: there were sales peaks for Mad (more than 2 million), Playboy (more than 7 million), and TV Guide (more than 19 million).

1975

Some fans consider the glory days of National Lampoon to be from 1972 to 1975,[11] although the magazine remained popular and profitable after that point. During 1975, the three founders (Kenney, Beard and Hoffman) took advantage of a buyout clause in their contracts for $7.5 million. And, at about the same time, writers Michael O'Donoghue and Anne Beatts left to join the NBC comedy show Saturday Night Live (SNL). At the same time, the National Lampoon Show's John Belushi and Gilda Radner left the troupe to join the original septet of SNL's "Not Ready for Primetime Players."

The magazine was a springboard to Hollywood for a generation of comedy writers, directors, and performers. Various alumni went on to create and write for Saturday Night Live, The David Letterman Show, The Simpsons, Married... with Children, Night Court, and various films including Caddyshack, National Lampoon's Vacation, and Ghostbusters.

As some of the original creators departed, the magazine remained popular and profitable as it saw the emergence of John Hughes and editor-in-chief P.J. O'Rourke, along with artists and writers such as Gerry Sussman, Ellis Weiner, Tony Hendra, Ted Mann, Peter Kleinman, John Weidman, Jeff Greenfield, Bruce McCall, and Rick Meyerowitz.

1985

In 1985, Matty Simmons (who had been working only on the business end of the Lampoon up to that point) took over as Editor-in-Chief. He fired the entire editorial staff, and appointed his two sons, Michael Simmons and Andy Simmons, as editors, Peter Kleinman as Creative Director and Editor, and Larry "Ratso" Sloman as Executive Editor.

The magazine was on an increasingly shaky financial footing, and beginning in November 1986, the magazine was published six times a year instead of every month.

1989

In 1989, the magazine was acquired in a hostile takeover by a business partnership headed by actor Tim Matheson (who played "Otter" in the 1978 film National Lampoon's Animal House). After seeking financing to resurrect the Magazine for two years, Matheson was forced to sell, in order to avoid bankruptcy due to mounting debts.

1991

In 1991 the magazine (and more importantly, the rights to the brand name "National Lampoon") were bought by a company called J2 Communications, headed by James P. Jimirro. (J2 was previously known for marketing Tim Conway's "Dorf" videos.)

J2 Communications' focus was to make money by licensing out the brand name "National Lampoon". The company was contractually obliged to publish at least one new issue of the magazine per year in order to retain the rights to the Lampoon name. However, the company had very little interest in the magazine itself; throughout the 1990s the number of issues per year declined precipitously and erratically. In 1991 there was an attempt at monthly publication; nine issues were produced that year. Only two issues were released in 1992. This was followed by one issue in 1993, five in 1994, and three in 1995. For the last three years of its existence, the magazine was published only once a year.

1998, last issue

The magazine's final print publication was November 1998, after which the contract was renegotiated, and in a sharp reversal, J2 Communications was then prohibited from publishing issues of the magazine. J2, however, still owned the rights to the brand name, which it continued to franchise out to other users. In 2002 the use of the brand name and the rights to republish old material were sold to a new and otherwise unrelated company, National Lampoon, Incorporated.

Related media

During its most active period, the magazine spun off numerous productions in a wide variety of media. National Lampoon released books, special issues, anthologies, and other print pieces, including:[1]

Special editions

"If you buy a copy of this issue, you may find the ad is missing. As a result of a lawsuit by VW over the ad for unauthorized use of their trademark, NatLamp was forced to remove the page (with razor blades!) from any copies they still had in inventory (which, from what I gather, was about half the first printing of 250,000 copies) and all subsequent reprints. For what it's worth, Ted Kennedy didn't sue."

Books

"True Facts" special editions and books
(There were also four all-True-Facts regular issues of the magazine, in 1985, 1986, 1987, and 1988.)

Recordings

Vinyl

Vinyl record albums
Vinyl singles
  • A snide parody of Les Crane's 1971 hit Desiderata, written by Tony Hendra, was recorded and released as Deteriorata, and stayed on the lower reaches of the Billboard magazine charts for a month in late 1972. Deteriorata also became one of National Lampoon's best-selling posters.
  • The gallumphing theme to Animal House rose slightly higher and charted slightly longer in December 1978.

Cassette tape

  • The Official National Lampoon Car Stereo Test and Demonstration Tape, 1980, conceived and written by Ed Subitzky

CDs

Many of the older albums that were originally on vinyl have been re-issued as CDs and a number of tracks from certain albums are available as MP3s.

Radio

  • The National Lampoon Radio Hour was a nationally syndicated radio comedy show which was on the air weekly from 1973 to 1974. For a complete listing of shows, see.[12]
  • True Facts, 1977–1978, written by and starring Peter Kaminsky, Ellis Weiner, Danny Abelson, Sylvia Grant

Theater

Television

  • Delta House, 1978, Universal Television for ABC-TV Network

Films

There is considerable ambiguity about what actually constitutes a National Lampoon film. During the 1970s and early 1980s, a few films were made as spin-offs from the original National Lampoon magazine, using its creative staff. The first theatrical release, and by far the most successful National Lampoon film was National Lampoon's Animal House (1978). Starring John Belushi and written by Doug Kenney, Harold Ramis and Chris Miller, it became the highest grossing comedy film of all time. Produced on a low budget, it was so enormously profitable that, from that point on for the next two decades, the name "National Lampoon" applied to the title of a movie was considered to be a valuable selling point in and of itself.

Numerous movies were subsequently made that had "National Lampoon" as part of the title. Many of these were unrelated projects, because by that point in time, the name "National Lampoon" could simply be licensed on a one-time basis, by any company, for a fee. Critics such as the Orlando Sentinel′s Roger Moore and the New York Times′ Andrew Adam Newman have written about the cheapening of the National Lampoon′s movie imprimatur; in 2006, an Associated Press review said: “The National Lampoon, once a brand name above nearly all others in comedy, has become shorthand for pathetic frat boy humor."[13]

The first of the National Lampoon movies was a not very successful made-for-TV movie:

National Lampoon's Animal House

In 1978, National Lampoon's Animal House was released. Made on a small budget, it did phenomenally well at the box office. In 2001, the United States Library of Congress considered the film "culturally significant", and preserved it in the National Film Registry.

The script had its origins in a series of short stories that had been previously published in the magazine. These included Chris Miller's "Night of the Seven Fires," which dramatized a frat initiation and included the characters Pinto and Otter, which contained prose versions of the toga party, the "road trip", and the dead horse incident. Another source was Doug Kenney's "First Lay Comics,"[14] which included the angel and devil scene and the grocery-cart affair. According to the authors, most of these elements were based on real incidents.

National Lampoon's Class Reunion

This 1982 movie was an attempt by John Hughes to make something similar to Animal House. National Lampoon's Class Reunion was not successful however.

National Lampoon's Vacation

Released in 1983, the movie National Lampoon's Vacation was based upon John Hughes' National Lampoon story "Vacation '58". National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation (1989) was based on John Hughes' "Christmas '59". The movie's financial success gave rise to several follow-up films, including National Lampoon's European Vacation, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and Vegas Vacation, starring Chevy Chase.
Similar films
The Robert Altman film O.C. and Stiggs (1987) was based on two characters who had been featured in several written pieces in National Lampoon magazine, including an issue-long story from October 1982 entitled "The Utterly Monstrous, Mind-Roasting Summer of O.C. and Stiggs." Completed in 1984, the film was not released until 1987, when it was shown in a small number of theaters and without the "National Lampoon" name. It was not a success.

Following the success of Animal House, MAD magazine lent its name to a 1980 comedy titled Up the Academy. But whereas two of Animal House′s co-writers were the Lampoon′s Doug Kenney and Chris Miller, Up The Academy was strictly a licensing maneuver, with no creative input from MAD′s staff or contributors. It was a critical and commercial failure.

Van Allen radiation belt

Van Allen radiation belt

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
 
Van Allen radiation belts (cross section)
 
A radiation belt is a layer of energetic charged particles that is held in place around a magnetized planet, such as the Earth, by the planet's magnetic field. The Earth has two such belts and sometimes others may be temporarily created. The discovery of the belts is credited to James Van Allen and as a result the Earth's belts bear his name. The main belts extend from an altitude of about 1,000 to 60,000 kilometers above the surface in which region radiation levels vary. Most of the particles that form the belts are thought to come from solar wind and other particles by cosmic rays.[1] The belts are located in the inner region of the Earth's magnetosphere. The belts contain energetic electrons that form the outer belt and a combination of protons and electrons that form the inner belt. The radiation belts additionally contain lesser amounts of other nuclei, such as alpha particles. The belts endanger satellites, which must protect their sensitive components with adequate shielding if their orbit spends significant time in the radiation belts. In 2013, NASA reported that the Van Allen Probes had discovered a transient, third radiation belt, which was observed for four weeks until destroyed by a powerful, interplanetary shock wave from the Sun.[2]

Discovery

Kristian Birkeland, Carl Størmer, and Nicholas Christofilos had investigated the possibility of trapped charged particles before the Space Age.[3] Explorer 1 and Explorer 3 confirmed the existence of the belt in early 1958 under James Van Allen at the University of Iowa. The trapped radiation was first mapped out by Explorer 4, Pioneer 3 and Luna 1.

The term Van Allen belts refers specifically to the radiation belts surrounding Earth; however, similar radiation belts have been discovered around other planets. The Sun itself does not support long-term radiation belts, as it lacks a stable, global dipole field. The Earth's atmosphere limits the belts' particles to regions above 200–1,000 km,[4] while the belts do not extend past 7 Earth radii RE.[4] The belts are confined to a volume which extends about 65°[4] from the celestial equator.

Research

Jupiter's variable radiation belts

The NASA Van Allen Probes mission will go further and gain scientific understanding (to the point of predictability) of how populations of relativistic electrons and ions in space form or change in response to changes in solar activity and the solar wind. NASA Institute for Advanced Concepts–funded studies have proposed magnetic scoops to collect antimatter that naturally occurs in the Van Allen belts of Earth, although only about 10 micrograms of antiprotons are estimated to exist in the entire belt.[5]

The Van Allen Probes mission successfully launched on August 30, 2012.[6] The primary mission is scheduled to last two years with expendables expected to last four. NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center manages the overall Living With a Star program of which the Van Allen Probes is a project, along with Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO). The Applied Physics Laboratory is responsible for the overall implementation and instrument management for the Van Allen Probes.[7]

Van Allen radiation belts exist on other planets and planets in the solar system that have a magnetic field that is powerful enough to sustain a radiation belt. However, many of these radiation belts have been poorly mapped. The Voyager Program (namely Voyager 2) only nominally confirmed the existence of similar belts on Uranus and Neptune.

Outer belt

Laboratory simulation of the Van Allen belt's influence on the Solar Wind; these aurora-like Birkeland currents were created by the scientist Kristian Birkeland in his terrella, a magnetized anode globe in an evacuated chamber

The large outer radiation belt is almost toroidal in shape, extending from an altitude of about three to ten Earth radii (RE) or 13,000 to 60,000 kilometres (8,100 to 37,300 mi) above the Earth's surface. Its greatest intensity is usually around 4–5 RE. The outer electron radiation belt is mostly produced by the inward radial diffusion[8][9] and local acceleration[10] due to transfer of energy from whistler-mode plasma waves to radiation belt electrons. Radiation belt electrons are also constantly removed by collisions with atmospheric neutrals,[10] losses to magnetopause, and the outward radial diffusion. The outer belt consists mainly of high energy (0.1–10 MeV) electrons trapped by the Earth's magnetosphere. The gyroradii for energetic protons would be large enough to bring them into contact with the Earth's atmosphere. The electrons here have a high flux and at the outer edge (close to the magnetopause), where geomagnetic field lines open into the geomagnetic "tail", fluxes of energetic electrons can drop to the low interplanetary levels within about 100 km (62 mi), a decrease by a factor of 1,000.

The trapped particle population of the outer belt is varied, containing electrons and various ions. Most of the ions are in the form of energetic protons, but a certain percentage are alpha particles and O+ oxygen ions, similar to those in the ionosphere but much more energetic. This mixture of ions suggests that ring current particles probably come from more than one source.

The outer belt is larger than the inner belt and its particle population fluctuates widely. Energetic (radiation) particle fluxes can increase and decrease dramatically as a consequence of geomagnetic storms, which are themselves triggered by magnetic field and plasma disturbances produced by the Sun. The increases are due to storm-related injections and acceleration of particles from the tail of the magnetosphere.

On February 28, 2013, a third radiation belt, consisting of high-energy ultrarelativistic charged particles, was reported to be discovered. In a news conference by NASA's Van Allen Probe team, it was stated that this third belt is generated when a mass coronal ejection is created by the Sun. It has been represented as a separate creation which splits the Outer Belt, like a knife, on its outer side, and exists separately as a storage container for a month's time, before merging once again with the Outer Belt.[11]

The unusual stability of this third, transient belt has been explained as due to a 'trapping' by the Earth's magnetic field of ultrarelativistic particles as they are lost from the second, traditional outer belt. While the outer zone, which forms and disappears over a day, is highly variable owing to interactions with the atmosphere, the ultrarelativistic particles of the third belt are thought to not scatter into the atmosphere, as they are too energetic to interact with atmospheric waves at low latitudes.[12] This absence of scattering and the trapping allows them to persist for a long time, finally only being destroyed by an unusual event, such as the shock wave from the sun which eventually destroyed it.

Inner belt

Two giant belts of radiation surround Earth. The inner belt is dominated by electrons and the outer one by protons.Image Credit: NASA
"Zebra stripes" in the inner radiation belt: An example of energetic electron spectra, measured on June 18, 2013 by NASA's twin Van Allen Probes in the inner radiation belt during quiet time during low solar activity. The striped, banded pattern is caused by the rotation of the Earth, previously thought to have no effect on the highly energetic particles of the radiation belt. Credit: A. Ukhorskiy/JHUAPL

While protons form one radiation belt, trapped electrons present two distinct structures, the inner and outer belt. The inner electron Van Allen Belt extends typically from an altitude of 0.2 to 2 Earth radii (L values of 1 to 3) or 600 miles (1,000 km) to 3,700 miles (6,000 km) above the Earth.[1][13] In certain cases when solar activity is stronger or in geographical areas such as the South Atlantic Anomaly (SAA), the inner boundary may go down to roughly 200 kilometers[14] above the Earth's surface. The inner belt contains high concentrations of electrons in the range of hundreds of keV and energetic protons with energies exceeding 100 MeV, trapped by the strong (relative to the outer belts) magnetic fields in the region.[15]

It is believed that proton energies exceeding 50 MeV in the lower belts at lower altitudes are the result of the beta decay of neutrons created by cosmic ray collisions with nuclei of the upper atmosphere. The source of lower energy protons is believed to be proton diffusion due to changes in the magnetic field during geomagnetic storms.[16]

Due to the slight offset of the belts from Earth's geometric center, the inner Van Allen belt makes its closest approach to the surface at the South Atlantic Anomaly.[17] [18]

On March 2014, a pattern resembling 'zebra stripes' was discovered in the radiation belts by NASA in their energetic particle experiment, RBSPICE. The reason reported was that due to the tilt in Earth's magnetic field axis, the planet’s rotation generated an oscillating, weak electric field that permeates through the entire inner radiation belt. The field affects the electrons as if they behave like fluids.[19]

The global oscillations slowly stretch and fold the fluid resulting in the striped pattern observed across the entire inner belt, extending from above Earth’s atmosphere, about 800 km above the planet’s surface up to roughly 13,000 km.[20]

Flux values

In the belts, at a given point, the flux of particles of a given energy decreases sharply with energy.
At the magnetic equator, electrons of energies exceeding 500 keV (resp. 5 MeV) have omnidirectional fluxes ranging from 1.2×106 (resp. 3.7×104) up to 9.4×109 (resp. 2×107) particles per square centimeter per second.

The proton belts contain protons with kinetic energies ranging from about 100 keV (which can penetrate 0.6 µm of lead) to over 400 MeV (which can penetrate 143 mm of lead).[21]

Most published flux values for the inner and outer belts may not show the maximum probable flux densities that are possible in the belts. There is a reason for this discrepancy: the flux density and the location of the peak flux is variable (depending primarily on solar activity), and the number of spacecraft with instruments observing the belt in real time has been limited. The Earth has not experienced a solar storm of Carrington event intensity and duration while spacecraft with the proper instruments have been available to observe the event.

Regardless of the differences of the flux levels in the Inner and Outer Van Allen belts, the beta radiation levels would be dangerous to humans if they were exposed for an extended period of time.[17][22]

Antimatter confinement

In 2011, a study has confirmed earlier speculation that the Van Allen belt could confine antiparticles. The PAMELA experiment detected orders of magnitude higher levels of antiprotons than are expected from normal particle decays while passing through the SAA. This suggests the Van Allen belts confine a significant flux of antiprotons produced by the interaction of the Earth's upper atmosphere with cosmic rays.[23] The energy of the antiprotons has been measured in the range from 60–750 MeV.

Implications for space travel

Missions beyond low Earth orbit leave the protection of the geomagnetic field, and transit the Van Allen belts. Thus they may need to be shielded against exposure to cosmic rays, Van Allen radiation, or solar flares. The region between two to four Earth radii lies between the two radiation belts and is sometimes referred to as the "safe zone".[24][25]

Solar cells, integrated circuits, and sensors can be damaged by radiation. Geomagnetic storms occasionally damage electronic components on spacecraft. Miniaturization and digitization of electronics and logic circuits have made satellites more vulnerable to radiation, as the total electric charge in these circuits is now small enough so as to be comparable with the charge of incoming ions. Electronics on satellites must be hardened against radiation to operate reliably. The Hubble Space Telescope, among other satellites, often has its sensors turned off when passing through regions of intense radiation.[26] A satellite shielded by 3 mm of aluminium in an elliptic orbit (200 by 20,000 miles (320 by 32,190 km)) passing the radiation belts will receive about 2,500 rem (25 Sv) per year. Almost all radiation will be received while passing the inner belt.[27]

The Apollo missions marked the first event where humans traveled through the Van Allen belts, which was one of several radiation hazards known by mission planners.[28] The astronauts had low exposure in the Van Allen belts due to the short period of time spent flying through them.[29] The command module's inner structure was an aluminum "sandwich" consisting of a welded aluminium inner skin, a thermally bonded honeycomb core, and a thin aluminium "face sheet". The steel honeycomb core and outer face sheets were thermally bonded to the inner skin.

In fact, the astronauts' overall exposure was dominated by solar particles once outside Earth's magnetic field. The total radiation received by the astronauts varied from mission to mission but was measured to be between 0.16 and 1.14 rads (1.6 and 11.4 mGy), much less than the standard of 5 rem (50 mSv) per year set by the United States Atomic Energy Commission for people who work with radioactivity.[28]

Causes

Simulated Van Allen Belts generated by a plasma thruster in tank #5 at the Electric Propulsion Laboratory located at the then-called Lewis Research Center, Cleveland, Ohio

It is generally understood that the inner and outer Van Allen belts result from different processes. The inner belt, consisting mainly of energetic protons, is the product of the decay of so-called "albedo" neutrons which are themselves the result of cosmic ray collisions in the upper atmosphere. The outer belt consists mainly of electrons. They are injected from the geomagnetic tail following geomagnetic storms, and are subsequently energized through wave-particle interactions.

In the inner belt, particles are trapped in the Earth's nonlinear magnetic field, that originate from the sun. Particles gyrate and move along field lines. As particles encounter regions of larger density of magnetic field lines, their "longitudinal" velocity is slowed and can be reversed, reflecting the particle. This causes the particles to bounce back and forth between the Earth's poles.[30] Globally, the motion of these trapped particles is chaotic.[31]

A gap between the inner and outer Van Allen belts, sometimes called safe zone or safe slot, is caused by the Very Low Frequency (VLF) waves which scatter particles in pitch angle which results in the gain of particles to the atmosphere. Solar outbursts can pump particles into the gap but they drain again in a matter of days. The radio waves were originally thought to be generated by turbulence in the radiation belts, but recent work by James L. Green of the Goddard Space Flight Center comparing maps of lightning activity collected by the Microlab 1 spacecraft with data on radio waves in the radiation-belt gap from the IMAGE spacecraft suggests that they are actually generated by lightning within Earth's atmosphere. The radio waves they generate strike the ionosphere at the right angle to pass through it only at high latitudes, where the lower ends of the gap approach the upper atmosphere. These results are still under scientific debate.

There have been nuclear tests in space that have caused artificial radiation belts. Starfish Prime, a high altitude nuclear test, created an artificial radiation belt that damaged or destroyed as many as one third of the satellites in low Earth orbit at the time.

Proposed removal

The belts are a hazard for artificial satellites and are dangerous for human beings, and are difficult and expensive to shield against.

High Voltage Orbiting Long Tether, or HiVOLT, is a concept proposed by Russian physicist V.V. Danilov and further refined by Robert P. Hoyt and Robert L. Forward for draining and removing the radiation fields of the Van Allen radiation belts[32] that surround the Earth.[33] A proposed configuration consists of a system of five 100 km long conducting tethers deployed from satellites, and charged to a large voltage. This would cause charged particles that encounter the tethers to have their pitch angle changed, thus over time dissolving the inner belts. Hoyt and Forward's company, Tethers Unlimited, performed a preliminary analysis simulation, and produced a chart depicting a theoretical radiation flux reduction,[34] to less than 1% of current levels within two months for the inner belts that threaten LEO objects.[35]

Cambridge Study Reveals How Life Could Have Started From Nothing


Cambridge Study Reveals How Life Could Have Started From Nothing


cambridge, study, reveals, how, life, could, have, started, from, nothing,  
Cambridge Study Reveals How Life Could Have Started From Nothing
Image Credit: Getty
 
One of the most challenging questions in basic biology and the history of evolution and life stems from the unknown origin of the first cells billions of years ago. Though many pieces of the puzzle have been put together, this origin story remains somewhat murky. But a team of researchers from the University of Cambridge believe they've accidentally stumbled on an answer, and a very compelling one at that.

The discovery: Through routine quality control testing, a researcher working with Markus Ralser, who would eventually become the lead researcher for the project, stumbled upon signs of the metabolic process where, for all intents and purposes, there shouldn't have been. Until now, much of the science community has generally agreed that Ribonucleic acid, or RNA, was the first building block of life because it produces enzymes that could catalyze complex sequences of reactions such as metabolic action. However, Ralser's lab found the end products of the metabolic process without any presence of RNA. Instead, the findings indicate that complex and life-forming reactions like these could occur spontaneously given the right, but surprisingly simple, conditions.

"People have said that these pathways look so complex they couldn't form by environmental chemistry alone," Rasler told NewScientist. "This is the first experiment showing that it is possible to create metabolic networks in the absence of RNA."

Testing: Because Rasler's team basically stumbled upon their initial findings, they repeated the process several times and were pleasantly surprised with repeat successful outcomes. So, taking things to the next level, Rasler began working with Cambridge's Earth sciences department to determine if these processes could have occurred in the Archean Ocean, the oxygen-free world, predating photosynthesis, which covered the planet almost 4 billion years ago.

"In the beginning we had hoped to find one reaction or two maybe, but the results were amazing," said Ralser. "We could reconstruct two metabolic pathways almost entirely."

If these metabolic pathways were occurring in the absence of RNA in conditions rich with iron and other metals and phosphate, it seems increasingly likely that life could have literally started from nothing and spontaneously formed in ways until now believed impossible.

So what? "I think this paper has really interesting connotations for the origins of life," says Matthew Powner at University College London. "For origins of life, it is important to understand where the source molecules come from."

Rasler's team has been the first to show that life could literally come from nothing. Of course, in the scientific community, this could be a major advancement, albeit one that is still only a part of an overall picture that's still forming through years of continuing research. However, these findings could also potentially play into the creationism versus evolution debate. One of the holes often poked by creationists is the complex and hard-to-explain idea of life started from nothing at all, and for the most part scientific explanations have been somewhat lacking. However, these findings indicate that something from nothing might not be as far-fetched idea as it seems.

Science as Salvation?

Science as Salvation?


Marcelo Gleiser
Marcelo Gleiser

The Island of Knowledge
The Limits of Science and the Search for Meaning.
By Marcelo Gleiser.

Whether or not scientists are from Mars and humanists from Venus, the “two cultures” debate about the arts and sciences has never been down to earth. For decades we’ve endured schematic sparring between straw men: humanists claim that scientists are reductive, scientists find humanists reactionary. (A recent bout between the cognitive scientist Steven Pinker and the literary critic Leon Wieseltier in the pages of The New Republic ran true to form.) Marcelo Gleiser, a physicist with strong ties to the humanities, is alarmed by the hubristic stance of his discipline and the backlash it is liable to provoke. He has written The Island of Knowledge as “a much needed self-analysis in a time when scientific speculation and arrogance are rampant…. I am attempting to protect science from attacks on its intellectual integrity.”

Perhaps this well-meant intervention is unnecessary, given the many signs of interdisciplinary concord today. These include the growth of science studies, technocultural studies and the digital humanities within the liberal arts; successful popularizations of science in the media—the new Cosmos had the largest debut of any series in television history; and the ongoing enthusiasm for science fiction in mass culture. (True, the genre is often light-years away from genuine science, but at its best it’s an exemplary merger of the two cultures.) From such portents alone, we seem poised to embrace the ideal of “one culture, many methods.” But might this be a pious platitude, if not a colossal category mistake? Are the arts and sciences actually fated to be an estranged couple, burdening their offspring with crippling complexes?

Gleiser hopes to heal the rift between the two cultures by denying the scientific dream of establishing final truths. He insists that while the arts and sciences have different methods, they are fundamentally united in their search for humanity’s roots and purposes; they also share the human limitation of finding only provisional and incomplete answers. He traces Western science’s misguided aspiration to omniscience, and its consequent devaluing of human fallibility, to its beginnings in classical Greece. This is certainly an appropriate place to start for a history of science’s Platonic aspirations. However, the origin of the “two cultures” debate that Gleiser implicitly addresses is more recent, and thus less entrenched, than his own chronology implies. The unhappy couple stands a good chance of being reconciled through judicious interventions such as his.

Their current disaffection commenced in the early nineteenth century, when the “natural philosopher,” a man of parts, began to be replaced by the specialized “scientist,” a term coined in the 1830s. A new division of labor emerged. Scientists claimed to establish objective facts and laws about the natural world by stifling their imagination and relying on empirical observation, testing and prediction; humanists embraced the Romantic imagination, interpreting the ambiguous nature of human experience through empathy as well as analysis. At the dawn of the twentieth century, reconciliation beckoned within the new domain of the “social sciences.” Economists, anthropologists, sociologists, psychologists and historians combined rational inquiry with intuitive insight—the sort of “scientific use of the imagination” proposed by the scientist John Tyndall and exemplified by the fictional icon Sherlock Holmes. Nevertheless, methods clashed and philosophies jostled. Should social scientists seek simple, encompassing laws like the natural sciences, or should they highlight particularity and uniqueness, like the humanities? The debate revolved around approaches deemed “nomothetic” (generalizing) or ”idiographic” (individualizing)—terms so ugly they assured public disinterest.
* * *
The battle lines became firmly drawn in the years following World War II. In Science and Human Values (1956), Jacob Bronowski attempted to overcome the sullen suspicions between humanists and scientists, each now condemning the other for the horrifying misuse of technology during the conflict:
Those whose education and perhaps tastes have confined them to the humanities protest that the scientists alone are to blame, for plainly no mandarin ever made a bomb or an industry. The scientists say, with equal contempt, that the Greek scholars and the earnest explorers of cave paintings do well to wash their hands of blame; but what in fact are they doing to help direct the society whose ills grow more often from inaction than from error?
Bronowski was a published poet and biographer of William Blake as well as a mathematician; he knew that artists and scientists had different aims and methods. Yet he also attested that both engaged in imaginative explorations of the unities underlying the human and natural worlds.

If Bronowski’s stress on the imagination as the foundation of both the arts and sciences had prevailed, Gleiser would not need to remind his readers that Newton and Einstein shared a similar “belief in the creative process.” However, while Bronowski meant to heal the breach by exposing it, he inadvertently encouraged others to expand it into an unbridgeable gulf, a quagmire of stalemate and trench warfare. His friend C.P. Snow battened on the division in lectures that were subsequently published under the meme-friendly title The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution (1959). Snow acknowledged that scientists could be philistine about the humanities, but his ire was directed at the humanists: they composed the governing establishment, their willful ignorance about science impeding policies that could help millions worldwide. As the historian Guy Ortolano has shown in The Two Cultures Controversy (2009), Snow tactlessly insinuated that the literary intelligentsia’s delight in irrational modernism rather than rational science was partly responsible for the Holocaust: “Didn’t the influence of all they represent bring Auschwitz that much closer?” Such ad hominem attacks raised the hackles of the literary critic F.R. Leavis, himself a master of the art. His response, Two Cultures? The Significance of C.P. Snow (1962), proved only that humanists could be just as intemperate as Snow implied. (One critic, appalled by Leavis’s vituperation, dubbed him “the Himmler of Literature.”)

The “two cultures” debate has continued for decades, often rehashing the same issues and generating more heat than light—a metaphor that reminds us of how entwined the arts and sciences are in everyday life. In recent years, however, the tone and substance of the debate have changed. There is a revived tenor of nineteenth-century scientific triumphalism, owing in part to the amazing successes of the natural sciences, from the standard model in physics to DNA sequencing and the Human Genome Project. Numerous physicists are convinced that they will discover a final “theory of everything” proving the unity of nature’s laws and defining its constituent elements. Not all scientists share this reductionist outlook, but the wider culture unintentionally reinforces it, thanks to information technology’s colonization of everyday life. We’re more primed than ever before to think in terms of keyword searches, algorithmic sequences and Big Data.

No wonder that science, for many, has become a secular holy writ, goading its believers to denounce all forms of religion as empty superstition while converting the humanistic disciplines into mere disciples of science. The new priesthood even performs last rites, as Stephen Hawking did in 2011: “Philosophy is dead,” he pronounced, because “[p]hilosophers have not kept up with modern developments in science. Particularly physics.” Gleiser is troubled by the fatuous preening of some prominent scientists, who risk alienating a public otherwise predisposed to appreciate the marvels of scientific discovery and the mysteries of scientific exploration: “To claim to know the ‘truth’ is too heavy a burden for scientists to carry. We learn from what we can measure and should be humbled by how much we can’t. It’s what we don’t know that matters.”

In this polarized atmosphere, offers of a truce in the manner of Bronowski simply inflame mutual mistrust. The recent dust-up in The New Republic began when Pinker extended to the humanities an olive branch of sorts in the name of “consilience” with science. Wieseltier identified it as a cudgel, and in some ways he was right: Pinker began by transubstantiating eighteenth-century philosophers like Hume and Rousseau into scientists manqué, and then added insult to injury by suggesting that the humanities become more like the sciences by adopting a “progressive agenda.” Wieseltier agreed with him that the boundaries between the two cultures were porous, but demanded they be buttressed against science’s imperialistic agenda: “Unified field theories may turn scientists on, but they turn humanists off: it has taken a very long time to establish the epistemological humility, the pluralistic largeness of mind, that those borders represent, and no revolution in any science has the power to repeal it.” (To be fair, the humanities have had their share of unified theories, including Marxism, Freudianism and structuralism. The two cultures are true to human nature in craving essences and totalities; even some postmodernists have been heard to proclaim that there are absolutely no absolutes.)

If such well-intentioned partisans can’t negotiate a cease-fire, perhaps each side needs to conduct an internal audit about what it has in common with its opponent prior to future armistice talks. Philosophers and historians of science have laid the groundwork, but they tend to be humanists and thus easier for hard scientists to dismiss. Steven Weinberg, a Nobel laureate in physics, patronized the philosophy of science as providing a “pleasing gloss” on scientific achievements, but little more: “We should not expect it to provide today’s scientists with any useful guidance about how to go about their work or about what they are likely to find.”

This situation is what makes Gleiser’s intervention in the debates so timely and interesting. He started his career in theoretical physics believing in the holy grail of his field, a final theory unifying quantum mechanics with general relativity. In his autobiographical A Tear at the Edge of Creation (2010), he confessed that he had been attracted to science initially by his own psychological need for order in an apparently meaningless universe. The death of his mother when he was 6 led him to search for sources of transcendence, from religion to fantasy fiction. He finally became a convert to the secular “magic” of physics as a teenager: “Science was a rational connection to a reality beyond our senses. There was a bridge to the mysterious, and it did not have to cross over supernatural lands. This was the greatest realization of my life.”

Gleiser has never lost his sense of wonder about existence or about the importance of science in conveying it. But his own experiences as a professional have led him to abandon the dream of attaining any final theory—in fact, he views the goal itself as a form of “intellectual vanity” and “monotheistic science.” Part of his disillusion has to do with the failure to find possible tests or empirical evidence for the extravagant claims of superstring theory, rendering it closer to metaphysics than physics. Gleiser also immersed himself in the history of science and was reminded that Western science has dreamed of discovering ultimate truth since the discipline’s inception. This faith has never been substantiated at the empirical level, situating it alongside mythic and religious yearnings to attain “oneness.” “There are faith-based myths running deep in science’s canon,” he maintains. “Scientists, even the great ones, may confuse their expectations of reality with reality itself.”

None of these heartfelt observations would surprise philosophers of science; Mary Midgley’s wonderful Science as Salvation (1992)—not included in Gleiser’s bibliography—makes the same points. But Gleiser speaks as a scientist and is thus more likely to be heard by his peers—provided he doesn’t scare them off with his anti-realist stance. He can sound positively postmodern when he defines science as “a human construction, a narrative we create to make sense of the world around us.” But if he opposes the naïve realist belief that science accesses a mind-independent reality, he doesn’t make the equally naïve claim that science is merely a social construction. It does attain verifiable knowledge of reality, its evolving instruments yielding increasingly precise data: but the resultant explanations are inevitably partial and always subject to change. There are no final answers, for new knowledge yields new mysteries to be solved. Science is a limited, interpretive practice and will only be “humanized” if it adopts the epistemological humility that Wieseltier claimed was the purview of the humanities.

These conclusions, and some of the same historical examples, reappear in Gleiser’s The Island of Knowledge. In this work, he underscores the many limits, even “insurmountable barriers,” to scientific knowledge. He likens science to an island situated within a wider sea of the unknown: “As the Island of Knowledge grows, so do the shores of our ignorance.” In thirty-two brief chapters, he provides a stimulating overview of Western science’s shifting interpretations of reality from classical Greece to the present, including informative discussions of atomism, alchemy, classical physics, quantum mechanics, quantum entanglement, the Big Bang, the multiverse, superstring theory, mathematics, information theory, computers and consciousness.
* * *
Gleiser is a brilliant expositor of difficult concepts, and his raw enthusiasm is transporting. He is equally fervent about the uncertainties of science, having once been a believer in its unalloyed truth: “I find myself in the difficult role of being a romantic having to kill the dreams of other romantics.”
However, as with many disillusioned votaries of absolutist creeds, his new stance can be as fundamentalist as the one he rejects. As he argued in his previous book—and continues to argue in this one—science’s “essential limitations” include the imprecision of its instruments and the cultural contingency of its concepts. In The Island of Knowledge, he eagerly gathers other objections to any final theory as kindling for a bonfire of the vanities. He contends that nature itself posits absolute limits to what we can know empirically, such as the initial conditions that generated the Big Bang or the existence of multiple universes implied by current theories of cosmic inflation. In addition, the quantum world is impervious to deterministic explanations. And mathematics is likely not mind-independent but rather a human invention—one whose formal structures cannot be both consistent and complete.

These assertions may be valid—only time will tell, if that—but Gleiser’s temperamental absolutism sometimes subverts his pragmatic faith in an unfinished universe. He insists that “there are aspects of reality that are permanently beyond our reach,” and also that “we can never know for certain…. We should build solid arguments based on current scientific knowledge but keep our minds open for surprises.” He notes that some mysteries will always remain mysteries—“there is an essential difference between ‘we don’t know’ and ‘we can’t know’”—but also admits that “‘Never’ is a hard word to use in science.” He inadvertently becomes his own best example of how hard it is to practice epistemological humility even when one is committed to it. Attaining that outlook, rather than certainty, is the true noble dream.

It is this lesson, above all, that makes Gleiser’s intervention in the “two cultures” debate so valuable. As scientists, both he and Bronowski have established underlying unities: not in the forces of nature, but in the humanities and the sciences. Bronowski stressed their common reliance on imagination, which subtends “numbers and pictures, the lever and The Iliad, the shapes of atoms and the great plays and the Socratic dialogues.” Gleiser emphasizes science’s inherent limitations, which make it “more beautiful and powerful, not less.” Despite its commitment to establishing verifiable knowledge of reality, science remains an interpretive and contingent practice—indeed, a humanistic enterprise. In the “two cultures” debate, one hopes that Gleiser’s words are among the last, especially his claim that science aligns “with the rest of the human creative output—impressive, multifaceted, and imperfect as we are.”

Geopark

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