Icicles — two metres long and, at their tips, as bright and sharp as needles — hang from the caves: wild ice stalactites, dragon’s teeth. I peer through them to see the world transformed to abstract. Little snow tornadoes twirl across the blank. The car is out there somewhere, represented by a subtle bump in the snow-fiel(d) The old jeep truck, a larger beast, is up to its door handles, like a sinking remnant: dinosaur yielding to ice age. The town’s behemoth snow-plow passes on the road, dome light twirling, and casts aside a frozen doe that now lies, neck broken, upon the roadside snow-bank, soon to vanish under the snowfall still to come. There is double-jointed consciousness at work in the dramatics of big weather. Down in the snowstorm, we are as mortal as the deer. I sink to my waist in a drift; I panic, my arms claw for an instant, like a drowning swimmer’s, in the powder. Men up and down the storm collapse with coronaries, snow shovels in their hands, cheeks turned into a deathly colour, like frost-bitten plums.
Yet when we go upstairs to consult the Weather Channel, we settle down, as cosy gods do, to hover high above the earth and watch the play with a divine perspective. Moist air labelled L for low rides up the continent from the Gulf of Mexico and collides with the high that has slid down from the North Pole. And thus is whipped up the egg-white fluff on the studio map that, down in the frozen, messy world, buries mortals.
An odd new metaphysics of weather: It is not that weather has necessarily grown more apocalypti(c) The famous ‘Winter of the Blue Snow’ of 1886–87 turned rivers of the American West into glaciers that when they thawed, carried along inundation of dead cattle. President Theodore Roosevelt was virtually ruined as a rancher by the weather that destroyed 65 per cent of his her(d) In 1811 Mississippi river flowed briefly because of the New Madrid earthquake.
What’s new in America is the theatre of it. Television does not create weather; any more than it creates contemporary politics. However, the ritual ceremonies of televised weather have endowed a subject often previously banal with an amazing life as mass entertainment, nationwide interactive preoccupation and a kind of immense performance art. What we have is weather as electronic American Shintoism, a casual but almost mystic daily religion, wherein nature is not inert but restless, stirring alive with kinetic fronts and meanings and turbulent expectations (forecasts, variables, prophecies). We have installed an elaborate priesthood and technology of interpretation: acolytes and satellites preside over snow and circuses. At least major snowstorms have about them an innocence and moral neutrality that is more refreshing than the last national television spectacle, the O. J. Simpson trial.
One attraction is the fact that these large gestures of nature are political. The weather in the mirabilis mode can, of course, be dragged onto the opened page to start a macro-argument about global warming or a micro-spat over a mayor’s fecklessness in deploying snowplows. Otherwise, traumas of weather do not admit of political interpretation. The snow Shinto reintroduces an element of what is almost charmingly uncontrollable in life. And, as shown last week, surprising, even as the priests predict it. This is welcome — a kind of ideological relief — in a rather stupidly politicised society living under the delusion that everything in life (and death) is arguable, political and therefore manipulable — from diet to DN(a) None of the old earthbound Marxist Whom Whom here in meteorology, but rather sky gods that bang around at higher altitudes and leave the earth in its misery, to submit to the sloppy collateral damage.
The moral difference of weather, even when destructive, is somehow stimulating. Why? The sheer levelling force is pleasing. It overrides routine and organises people into a shared moment that will become a punctuating memory in their lives (‘Lord, remember the blizzard in 1996?’).
Or perhaps one’s reaction is no more complicated than a child’s delight in dramatic disruption. Anyone loves to stand on the beach with a hurricane coming — a darkly lashing Byronism in surf and wind gets the blood up. The God’s, or child’s, part of the mind welcomes big weather — floods and blizzards. The coping, grown-up human part curses it, and sinks.
The paradox of big weather, it makes people feel important even while it, it dramatises their insignificance. In some ways, extreme weather is a brief moral equivalent of war — as stimulating as war can sometimes be, without most of the carnage.
The sun rises upon diamond-scattered snow-fields and glistens upon the lucent dragon’s teeth. In the distance, three deer, roused from their shelter under pines, venture forth. They struggle and plunge undulously through the opulent white.
Upstairs, I switch on the Shinto Weather Channel and the priests at the map show me the next wave —white swirls and serried arrows, advancing inexorably, bringing the next blizzar(d)


When people who are talking don’t share the same culture, knowledge, values, and assumptions, mutual understanding can be especially difficult. Such understanding is possible through the negotiation of meaning. To negotiate meaning with someone, you have to become aware of and respect both the differences in your backgrounds and when these differences are important. You need enough diversity of cultural and personal experience to be aware that divergent world views exist and what they might be like. You also need the flexibility in world view, and a generous tolerance for mistakes, as well as a talent for finding the right metaphor to communicate the relevant parts of unshared experiences or to highlight the shared experiences while demphasizing the others. Metaphorical imagination is a crucial skill in creating rapport and in communicating the nature of unshared experience. This skill consists, in large measure, of the ability to bend your world view and adjust the way you categorize your experiences. Problems of mutual understanding are not exotic; they arise in all extended conversations where understanding is important.
When it really counts, meaning is almost never communicated according to the CONDUIT metaphor, that is, where one person transmits a fixed, clear proposition to another by means of expressions in a common language, where both parties have all the relevant common knowledge, assumptions, values, etc. When the chips are down, meaning is negotiated: you slowly figure out what you have in common, what it is safe to talk about, how you can communicate unshared experience or create a shared vision. With enough flexibility in bending your world view and with luck and charity, you may achieve some mutual understanding.
Communication theories based on the CONDUIT metaphor turn from the pathetic to the evil when they are applied indiscriminately on a large scale, say, in government surveillance or computerized files. There, what is most crucial for real understanding is almost never included, and it is assumed that the words in the file have meaning in themselves—disembodied, objective, understandable meaning. When a society lives by the CONDUITmetaphor on a large scale, misunderstanding, persecution, and much worse are the likely products.
Later, I realized that reviewing the history of nuclear physics served another purpose as well: It gave the lie to the naive belief that the physicists could have come together when nuclear fission was discovered (in Nazi Germany!) and agreed to keep the discovery a secret, thereby sparing humanity such a burden. No. Given the development of nuclear physics up to 1938, development that physicists throughout the world pursued in all innocence of any intention of finding the engine of a new weapon of mass destruction—only one of them, the remarkable Hungarian physicist Leo Szilard, took that possibility seriously—the discovery of nuclear fission was inevitable. To stop it, you would have had to stop physics. If German scientists hadn’t made the discovery when they did, French, American, Russian, Italian, or Danish scientists would have done so, almost certainly within days or weeks. They were all working at the same cutting edge, trying to understand the strange results of a simple experiment bombarding uranium with neutrons. Here was no Faustian bargain, as movie directors and other naifs still find it intellectually challenging to imagine. Here was no evil machinery that the noble scientists might hide from the problems and the generals. To the contrary, there was a high insight into how the world works, an energetic reaction, older than the earth, that science had finally devised the instruments and arrangements to coart forth. “Make it seem inevitable,” Louis Pasteur used to advise his students when they prepared to write up their discoveries. But it was. To wish that it might have been ignored or suppressed is barbarous. “Knowledge,” Niels Bohr once noted, “is itself the basis for civilization.” You cannot have the one without the other; the one depends upon the other. Nor can you have only benevolent knowledge; the scientific method doesn’t filter for benevolence. Knowledge has consequences, not always intended, not always comfortable, but always welcome. The earth revolves around the sun, not the sun around the earth. “It is a profound and necessary truth,” Robert Oppenheimer would say, “that the deep things in science are not found because they are useful; they are found because it was possible to find them.”
...Bohr proposed once that the goal of science is not universal truth. Rather, he argued, the modest but relentless goal of science is “the gradual removal of prejudices.” The discovery that the earth revolves around the sun has gradually removed the prejudice that the earth is the center of the universe. The discovery of microbes is gradually removing the prejudice that disease is a punishment from God. The discovery of evolution is gradually removing the prejudice that Homo sapiens is a separate and special creation.
For any natural number $k$, let $a_k = 3^k$. The smallest natural number $m$ for which \[ (a_1)^1 \times (a_2)^2 \times \dots \times (a_{20})^{20} \;<\; a_{21} \times a_{22} \times \dots \times a_{20+m} \] is: