Steve Running from the University of Montana helped to invent the field of large-area, quantitative ecology. Steve was also my MS and PhD advisor – a role that doubtless was the most fulfilling of his career. This August, Steve celebrates his retirement with a reunion of lab members and close colleagues — a reunion that I will unfortunately miss due to an extended overseas trip. In lieu of my corporeal presence, I am contributing this Forecast interview to the party. I hope that the attendees — and the broader Forecast audience — will enjoy the look back at Steve’s long career and many contributions to the now-accepted but then-fringe use of remote sensing and modeling to address some of the big questions in terrestrial ecology.
And to capture a bit of Steve’s great enthusiasm for having fun, here’s a short album from our trip to Wimbledon 2010 (by my wife, Stephanie Best, who also puts in an appearance during our breakfast at E. Pellicci — also a couple from Dennis Baldocchi). As Steve put it at the time, “When are you going to get a chance to do that again?”
Mike and Steve enjoying a Pimm’s
Strawberries at Wimbledon.
The three of us at E. Pellicci.
Steve and Dennis Baldocchi in Avignon.
Bev Law and Steve, at Bev’s induction as an AGU Fellow.
Carolina Vera from the University of Buenos Aires tells Mike about her work on the South American monsoon. Relative to the Indian and Asian Monsoon, the South American Monsoon is understudied — but equally fascinating. The bulk of the land mass is centered near the equator, amplifying the role of tropical ocean-atmosphere interactions. The Andes run north-south, funneling a jet of moisture to Carolina’s back door. Intense dipoles operate, such that one area experiences drought and heat waves while another — not too far away — experiences flooding. Carolina and her colleagues are now working to build their emerging knowledge into actionable management tools, with real-world implications. The conversation wraps up with a discussion of Carlina’s vast experience in international science, and what seems to work best. The answer: diversity, and not pretending that a North American and European perspective represents a global perspective.
Maisa Rojas from the University of Chile tells Mike about her work on regional climate modeling, paleoclimate, and the Southern Hemisphere westerlies. The story begins with Maisa’s birth in Chile, but quickly moves on to the family’s dramatic escape from Pinochet’s rebellion and immigration to Germany. Maisa returned to Chile at age 12, and then spent much of her young life traveling and working in the UK, US, and France.
Maisa has played an integral role in recent IPCC activities, and she updates Mike on the many changes in store for AR6, for which she’ll serve at a coordinating lead author for chapter I in Working Group I.
Maisa Rojas, coring a peat bog in Rio Rubens, Southern Patagonia.
Maisa’s story is emblematic of both the personal challenges spawned by political upheavals, the difficulties in securing a permanent position in science, and the ongoing and often hard-to-detect discrimination experienced by women in science. Maisa is now working to build gender equity in climate science and a stronger sense of community, both within Chile and among those working on Southern Hemisphere climate research. It’s a major effort, but as Maisa says, “for complexity you need diversity”.
Jana Sillmann has carved out a career working on understanding and predicting climate extremes — heat waves, heavy rainfall, atmospheric rivers. What combination of factors controls the occurrence of extremes, particularly in a changing climate? Jana and Mike hash through the underlying science — including the agonizingly slow pace of model development — and how society is affected by and responds to extremes. Jana’s background and pathway to her current position are equally fascinating: an idyllic childhood in communist East Germany, with mom teaching construction; exchange student in rural North Dakota, hosted by an accordion virtuoso; grad school in the US; realizing that a career with computers and coffee was preferable to field work; chance exposure to an inspirational talk by Mojib Latif; a PhD from the Max Planck in Hamburg; four years in Canada with people like Francis Zwiers; leaving Canada in response to the anti-science politics of the time (sound familiar?); finally, moving to what sounds like a fabulous position at CICERO in Norway, where, remarkably, society actually seems to fully support women in science. And the ideal science environment? A sprinkle of Norwegian funding for individual academics, a bit of German support for postdocs and grad students, and a splash of Canadian IT investment.
Music from the album Encounters by Metastaz CC-BY-NC 4.0. Includes the tracks Hashashin, Vampire, and Girl and Assassin.
I like doing Forecast for a lot of reasons. I get my fingers into the entrails of science in a way that isn’t really possible from reading submissions. I hear some appalling stories, off the record. I’m caught up in the enthusiasm of scientists for what they’re dreaming of discovering in the next decade. But, maybe most of all, I get to ask all kinds of impertinent questions that would rouse the ghost of John Maddox if done during the course of normal editor-scientist interactions.
And so it is with my interview with Noah Diffenbaugh, one of the leading investigators of extreme events in a changing climate, and a friend for over 10 years. Getting to know someone in science, especially after grad school, is weird, as huge chunks of their being remain out of view. Indeed I am often reminded of the blind men and an elephant. Perhaps before I only saw Noah’s enormous feet and extravagant tail, without realizing his true self. I am not at all sure that I do now, but at least it is clear he is a pachyderm.
Noah grew up at the Mount Madonna Center, one of the intentional communities that erupted like mushrooms from the rains of the 1960s’ spiritual and yoga movements. Most withered under divisiveness, absolutism, and isolationism. Mount Madonna, though, continues to thrive. Yes, it was, and is, a yoga and communal life center. But it is not a cult. Instead, it is open to the outside world, and has grown to support a renowned school and series of cultural events.
Mount Madonna’s sense of openness and inquiry are a clear feature of Noah’s work and collaborations. Our work together, on topics like wine and climate, grew from a short chat in an elevator during an NCAR young scientist boot camp. In general, because it’s impossible to tell which collaborations are going to work out, Noah’s default is yes.
Saying yes has clearly worked for Noah. He spent time at Purdue and is now tenured at Stanford, one of the premier universities in the world (and a very tough place to get tenure). Noah’s involved in the IPCC, regularly consults with a huge range of public and private interests, and publishes in Science and Nature. The path to the top was clear, and swift.
Except, no. Noah was an undergrad premed at Stanford. Until he failed, spectacularly, Chem 31. Then it was, almost, a degree in religious studies. But, no. Earth Systems 10 proved riveting and, fortunately for the field (and my own academic career!), Noah turned to science.
At least for a while. Upon graduation, Noah returned to Mount Madonna. He taught at the center’s school but a broader direction eluded; restlessness grew; the benefits and costs of communal life came into sharper focus.
I essentially didn’t go through adolescence and didn’t really leave home until my mid 20s when I was already married and already had a kid
For a lot of us, grad school attracts because it is something to do that seems potentially valuable, interesting and fun, without having to make an absolute choice about what, exactly, you’re committing to. So it was for Noah.
I went to grad school, and I made my grad school decision, for all the wrong reasons … if I ever said out loud my motivation and what I was thinking … I don’t think I would ever get admitted
And leaving home, surprisingly, only meant moving a few miles from Mount Madonna to UC Santa Cruz. Noah eventually settled on paleoclimate research with Lisa Sloan, but only after considering other — and wildly unrelated — options.
Since then, I think the path has been clearer, and Noah has made major contributions to our understanding of extreme heat, among many other topics. Most of our conversation, however, had a decidedly philosophical bent to it, and we wrapped up with a discussion of how the US presidential election at least had the useful outcome of prompting Noah to think about how scientists communicate statistics.
We talked for almost two hours, and still did not get to a lot of topics I wanted to cover (being the chief editor for GRL, life as an academic in Silicon Valley, gender balance in science, non-governmental funding). Editing the interview down to something reasonable took me forever, but I wanted to keep as much as possible. I think the story of Noah’s path through life and science could prove useful, especially for young scientists starting out and wondering if any of your role models also wondered … what am I doing in grad school, why did I pick this advisor, why am I studying this topic, am I really this bad at lab work. Yes. Yes they did. You too might come out the other side.
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