Latest news with #Unexplainable
Vox
20 hours ago
- Health
- Vox
We're secretly winning the war on cancer
is a senior editorial director at Vox overseeing the climate teams and the Unexplainable and The Gray Area podcasts. He is also the editor of Vox's Future Perfect section and writes the Good News newsletter. He worked at Time magazine for 15 years as a foreign correspondent in Asia, a climate writer, and an international editor, and he wrote a book on existential risk. Thousands of people gather on the National Mall in Washington, DC, on September 26, 1998, to demand that the cause, the care, and the cure of cancer be made top research and healthcare priorities in the US. Paul J. Richards/AFP via Getty Images On November 4, 2003, a doctor gave Jon Gluck some of the worst news imaginable: He had cancer — one that later tests would reveal as multiple myeloma, a severe blood and bone marrow cancer. Jon was told he might have as little as 18 months to live. He was 38, a thriving magazine editor in New York with a 7-month-old daughter whose third birthday, he suddenly realized, he might never see. 'The moment after I was told I had cancer, I just said 'no, no, no,'' Jon told me in an interview just last week. 'This cannot be true.' Living in remission The fact that Jon is still here, talking to me in 2025, tells you that things didn't go the way the medical data would have predicted on that November morning. He has lived with his cancer, through waves of remission and recurrence, for more than 20 years, an experience he chronicles with grace and wit in his new book An Exercise in Uncertainty. That 7-month-old daughter is now in college. You could say Jon has beaten the odds, and he's well aware that chance played some role in his survival. ('Did you know that 'Glück' is German for 'luck'?' he writes in the book, noting his good fortune that a random spill on the ice is what sent him to the doctor in the first place, enabling them to catch his cancer early.) Cancer is still a terrible health threat, one that is responsible for 1 in 6 deaths around the world, killing nearly 10 million people a year globally and over 600,000 people a year in the US. But Jon's story and his survival demonstrate something that is too often missed: We've turned the tide in the war against cancer. The age-adjusted death rate in the US for cancer has declined by about a third since 1991, meaning people of a given age have about a third lower risk of dying from cancer than people of the same age more than three decades ago. That adds up to over 4 million fewer cancer deaths over that time period. Thanks to breakthroughs in treatments like autologous stem-cell harvesting and CAR-T therapy — breakthroughs Jon himself benefited from, often just in time — cancer isn't the death sentence it once was. Our World in Data Getting better all the time There's no doubt that just as the rise of smoking in the 20th century led to a major increase in cancer deaths, the equally sharp decline of tobacco use eventually led to a delayed decrease. Smoking is one of the most potent carcinogens in the world, and at the peak in the early 1960s, around 12 cigarettes were being sold per adult per day in the US. Take away the cigarettes and — after a delay of a couple of decades — lung cancer deaths drop in turn along with other non-cancer smoking-related deaths. But as Saloni Dattani wrote in a great piece earlier this year, even before the decline of smoking, death rates from non-lung cancers in the stomach and colon had begun to fall. Just as notably, death rates for childhood cancers — which for obvious reasons are not connected to smoking and tend to be caused by genetic mutations — have fallen significantly as well, declining sixfold since 1950. In the 1960s, for example, only around 10 percent of children diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic leukemia survived more than five years. Today it's more than 90 percent. And the five-year survival rate for all cancers has risen from 49 percent in the mid-1970s to 69 percent in 2019. We've made strikes against the toughest of cancers, like Jon's multiple myeloma. Around when Jon was diagnosed, the five-year survival rate was just 34 percent. Today it's as high as 62 percent, and more and more people like Jon are living for decades. 'There has been a revolution in cancer survival,' Jon told me. 'Some illnesses now have far more successful therapies than others, but the gains are real.' Three cancer revolutions The dramatic bend in the curve of cancer deaths didn't happen by accident — it's the compound interest of three revolutions. While anti-smoking policy has been the single biggest lifesaver, other interventions have helped reduce people's cancer risk. One of the biggest successes is the HPV vaccine. A study last year found that death rates of cervical cancer — which can be caused by HPV infections — in US women ages 20–39 had dropped 62 percent from 2012 to 2021, thanks largely to the spread of the vaccine. Other cancers have been linked to infections, and there is strong research indicating that vaccination can have positive effects on reducing cancer incidence. The next revolution is better and earlier screening. It's generally true that the earlier cancer is caught, the better the chances of survival, as Jon's own story shows. According to one study, incidences of late-stage colorectal cancer in Americans over 50 declined by a third between 2000 and 2010 in large part because rates of colonoscopies almost tripled in that same time period. And newer screening methods, often employing AI or using blood-based tests, could make preliminary screening simpler, less invasive and therefore more readily available. If 20th-century screening was about finding physical evidence of something wrong — the lump in the breast — 21st-century screening aims to find cancer before symptoms even arise. Most exciting of all are frontier developments in treating cancer, much of which can be tracked through Jon's own experience. From drugs like lenalidomide and bortezomib in the 2000s, which helped double median myeloma survival, to the spread of monoclonal antibodies, real breakthroughs in treatments have meaningfully extended people's lives — not just by months, but years. Perhaps the most promising development is CAR-T therapy, a form of immunotherapy. Rather than attempting to kill the cancer directly, immunotherapies turn a patient's own T-cells into guided missiles. In a recent study of 97 patients with multiple myeloma, many of whom were facing hospice care, a third of those who received CAR-T therapy had no detectable cancer five years later. It was the kind of result that doctors rarely see. 'CAR-T is mind-blowing — very science-fiction futuristic,' Jon told me. He underwent his own course of treatment with it in mid-2023 and writes that the experience, which put his cancer into a remission he's still in, left him feeling 'physically and metaphysically new.' A welcome uncertainty While there are still more battles to be won in the war on cancer, and there are certain areas — like the rising rates of gastrointestinal cancers among younger people — where the story isn't getting better, the future of cancer treatment is improving. For cancer patients like Jon, that can mean a new challenge — enduring the essential uncertainty that comes with living under a disease that's controllable but which could always come back. But it sure beats the alternative. 'I've come to trust so completely in my doctors and in these new developments,' he said. 'I try to remain cautiously optimistic that my future will be much like the last 20 years.' And that's more than he or anyone else could have hoped for nearly 22 years ago. A version of this story originally appeared in the Good News newsletter. Sign up here!
Yahoo
20-05-2025
- Politics
- Yahoo
350,000 people are losing protection from deportation
This story appeared in The Logoff, a daily newsletter that helps you stay informed about the Trump administration without letting political news take over your life. Subscribe here. Welcome to The Logoff: The Supreme Court today ruled the Trump administration could strip deportation protections from nearly 350,000 Venezuelans living in the US — a victory for President Donald Trump that comes at the expense of hundreds of thousands of vulnerable people. What's the context? Since 2021, many Venezuelan immigrants have had Temporary Protected Status, a program that allows migrants to stay and work in the US when their home countries experience disasters or civil strife. Venezuela is in an ongoing humanitarian crisis thanks to an authoritarian regime's economic mismanagement and foreign sanctions. But upon taking office, the Trump administration attempted to revoke that status for approximately 350,000 Venezuelans. A federal judge froze the administration's effort in March while lawsuits proceeded. What's the latest? The Supreme Court overturned the lower court's freeze, ruling that deportations could begin — even while the cases are still in front of the courts. What's next? The administration is now free to begin deporting Venezuelans who had been covered by the status, though the court's order still allows individual immigrants to challenge their deportations or the loss of work permits. Trump also aims to revoke Temporary Protected Status for hundreds of thousands of other immigrants later this year. What does this mean for the immigrants? Venezuela is still in the midst of a humanitarian crisis, and deportations would mean a return to a country where work is scarce but suffering is not: More than 20 million people lack adequate access to food and medical care, according to Human Rights Watch. What does this mean for the balance of power? Federal judges have repeatedly checked Trump's power by freezing his actions while they work their way through the judicial system. Trump and his officials have raged against such freezes, saying they give individual judges too much power over the president. Today, the court sided with the White House, weakening another check on this administration's power. Apropos of nothing in particular, here's a wonderful old Washington Post story about how Haitian immigrants brought a North Carolina town back from the brink of economic collapse. If you're in the mood for something totally free of politics, Vox's Unexplainable podcast has an episode whose title I can't resist: 'The man who walked butterflies on a leash.' (You can listen here on Apple, here on Spotify.) Thanks so much for reading, and I'll see you back here tomorrow.
Vox
17-05-2025
- Science
- Vox
A wild project in Iceland could transform how we forecast volcanic eruptions
is a senior producer and reporter on Unexplainable, Vox's science podcast. She covers everything scientists don't yet know but are trying to figure out, so her work explores everything from the inner workings of the human body to the distant edges of the universe When you picture a volcano, what do you see? I personally imagine a mountain sticking up into the sky. At the top of that mountain, I see a crater with a fiery hot lake boiling and roiling in it, or lava pouring down a slope like bright red candle wax, or massive clouds of grey ash exploding into the air. It's all incredible, powerful imagery, but it's also really just the tip of the volcano-berg. If I were to descend down through my imaginary volcano, moving down through layers and layers of earth, I'd find what might be an even more incredible feature: my volcano's pulsing, fiery furnace of a heart, also known as its 'magma chamber.' This is the reason that hot ash comes bursting up through the surface. It's the original source of my lava and my crater lake. It's where much of the important action in a volcano unfolds — and could hold secrets to help us better predict when a devastating eruption will occur. The problem is that we know much less about magma chambers like this than we'd like to. We're not even good at depicting them. 'We draw them as red balloons,' says Mike Poland, a geophysicist and scientist-in-charge at the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory. 'They are not. But it's a very difficult thing to represent.' Magma chambers are so hard to represent because they're so complex. They can be thousands of degrees Fahrenheit and have blends of solid material and hot liquid rock. These chambers have different temperatures in different spots, and different minerals melting at different heats or moving around in different ways. And, making things even more complex, there's a multitude of different gases that might make pressure build up before an eruption. But if we could better represent magma chambers — and just generally better understand exactly how they work — Poland says we might be able to dramatically improve our understanding of how volcanoes operate, and therefore be better able to anticipate what to expect from an impending eruption. But right now, because these chambers are so hot and so deep underground, it's hard to plumb their secrets. 'We don't have, like, the glass-bottomed volcano where you can just sort of look into and go like, Oh, that's what's going on,' Poland jokes. But what if we could have a glass-bottomed volcano that we could sort of look into and go like, Oh, that's what's going on? What if we could build, say, a little observatory deep down under the ground, right in the hot little heart of a volcano? It sounds absurd, and yet… ' There's a project in Iceland,' Poland tells me, 'They want to build a magma observatory. They want to drill into a magma chamber and put some monitoring equipment in the hole. … That would give us some idea of what's going on in there.' The project is called the Krafla Magma Testbed, or KMT, and the researchers working on it think it could revolutionize volcanology — and how we forecast eruptions. But first, what's missing from our volcano forecasts? One of the key motivations for building an observatory like this is that volcanology has a prediction problem. On the one hand, volcanoes are much more predictable than, say, earthquakes — they tend to give us some warning signs before they erupt. But on the other hand, it's hard to perfectly interpret those warning signs, which means the predictions volcanologists can make with our existing technology can be both incredibly helpful and frustratingly imprecise. For example, for the last year or so, a potential eruption has been brewing at Mount Spurr, a volcano near Anchorage, Alaska. Twice in the last 100 years, eruptions from Mount Spurr have rained ash down on the city, clogging up roadways, shutting down the local airport (one of the busiest cargo ports in the world), and settling like a fine dusting of gritty, gray, unmelting snow on cars and lawns and leaves of trees. People are understandably worried about a repeat performance, and the Alaska Volcano Observatory is monitoring the situation closely. Matt Haney, the scientist-in-charge at that observatory, told me while he can be sure that the volcano is displaying several key warning signs, he can't be sure exactly what the upcoming volcanic activity might look like — if there will be one eruption or many, exactly how intense they will be, or when they'll occur. 'That is not possible in the current levels of technology that we have,' he said. 'There's no definitive time frame, like, Oh, it's going to do exactly this, like it did in 1992. It's not the precise same playbook.' Even with 11 seismic stations gathering real-time data about the Alaskan volcano — even with devices measuring how it is changing shape in response to incoming magma, with planes circling in the sky to understand the venting of gases, and with an enormous amount of truly impressive work — these volcanologists still can't give us as clear a picture of the future as we might like them to. That's tricky enough when you're dealing with the prospect of a clogging and choking coating of volcanic ash, but it gets even more complicated when you're trying to make determinations about people's lives. 'This is the problem. How do you know how big an eruption's going to be?' — Mike Poland, geophysicist and scientist-in-charge at the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory Look, for example, at the case of Soufrière de Guadeloupe, a volcano on the Caribbean island of Basse-Terre. In the mid-1970s, it started venting steam. That, paired with increased earthquake activity, had people worried that a dramatic eruption might be brewing. And they had very good reason to worry: In 1902, another Caribbean volcano eruption sent a deadly mix of hot gas and ash and rock careening through a nearby city at 300 miles an hour, killing 27,000 people. So, hoping to avoid a repeat of this devastating event, the governmental authorities decided to go ahead and evacuate. More than 70,000 people left Basse-Terre. But the subsequent eruption was minor. As one report put it, the 'explosive emission of steam and debris was certainly impressive to those who had the misfortune to view it at close quarters. But from a volcanological point of view, it represented a rather trivial outburst.' If anything, the biggest impact on the volcanic activity was the evacuation itself — it hurt the local economy and disrupted kids' schooling. Sometimes, though, evacuations are extremely necessary. In 1991, at Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines, volcanologists once again read the volcanic tea leaves — stuff like seismic activity and steam explosions — and predicted a big eruption. Once again, people were evacuated. But this time, the decision to abandon the area saved thousands of lives — the ensuing eruption was one of the biggest in the 20th century. 'This is the problem,' Poland says. 'How do you know how big an eruption's going to be?' You don't want to evacuate too little, or too late, at the cost of human lives, he says. But equally, you don't want to be the boy who cries wolf, or the volcanologist who cries, 'ERUPTION!' ' It erodes trust in the scientists,' he says. Volcanology has come a long way since the 1970s, or even the 1990s. Scientists have much more monitoring equipment set up on volcanoes, and they have made better equipment over time. Their ability to make predictions about volcanoes has improved dramatically as a result. But as the case of Mount Spurr shows, even now — in 2025 — the field still grapples with the same fundamental problem of precision in their predictions. So how do these predictions get better? How could volcanologists further improve their predictions in order to help people make decisions about how to prepare for eruptions? Poland has spent a fair amount of time thinking about the answers to this question. He wrote a whole paper about it, in fact. And he thinks that improving volcano forecasting is not just about continuing to improve our monitoring equipment. Instead, he says, what we really need is better information about volcanoes themselves, and the hot molten rocks that power them. What can molten rock teach us about eruptions? Let's talk about how we currently forecast volcano eruptions. A lot of volcano prediction involves making very informed guesses about what a volcano might do in the future based on what that volcano has done in the past — what Poland calls pattern recognition. Take, for example, gas emissions or earthquakes. Essentially, he says, researchers will take a lot of very, very precise measurements of those phenomena that will allow them to then say 'Alright. X is happening. And when X happened before, Y happened afterward, so maybe now Y will happen again soon.' 'It's not necessarily based on any special understanding of the physics of volcanic activity or that particular volcano,' Poland says, 'It's more based on…We've seen this movie before, and we know how it's likely to evolve over time.' Related Your weather forecast is about to get a lot worse This approach has been incredibly useful. It's saved a lot of lives and helped scientists make some really good predictions about how a volcano might behave, broadly. But Poland likes to draw a comparison between this approach and with how we forecast the weather. Because in the past, weather scientists also relied heavily on pattern matching. If the pressure was dropping and it was getting colder, say, they might expect a storm to come through. But then, weather forecasting went through a kind of revolution. Scientists used satellites and other instruments to collect information about clouds and winds and rain. They collected huge amounts of data about the atmosphere, and people even flew directly into the eyes of phenomena like hurricanes to measure what was happening inside of those storms. 'This really abundant information was then used by modelers…to work out the physics of what's going on,' Poland says. Weather scientists still use a lot of historical data to inform their understanding of the future (and now, with AI, are actually turning back to their massive bodies of data to try some more advanced pattern recognition), but they have also built really sophisticated models of the physics of the atmosphere that help them make their predictions. And it has paid off: Last year, according to the National Hurricane Center, hurricane forecasters set new records for accuracy in their predictions for the 2024 Atlantic hurricane season. 'We can now forecast, with some degree of accuracy, whether a hurricane will form, how intense it is going to be, where it's going to go,' Poland says. 'Obviously not every forecast is perfect. And that's because our knowledge is still imperfect. But they know enough.' Poland wants volcanologists to build similar models of the underlying physics of volcanoes, which would mean building models of magma chambers. Scientists have been working on making models like this — and have even been working on applying them to forecasting. But if the weather scientists built their models by flying directly into things like hurricanes and taking measurements, volcano researchers have had a bit of a harder time doing the equivalent for magma chambers. They can't take direct measurements, so they've used seismic and electromagnetic imaging to take the equivalent of X-rays of the Earth, and they've studied places where ancient volcanoes have eroded away, bringing their cooled, frozen magma chambers up to the surface. They've even read the layers of volcanic crystals as though they were tree rings. This has been helpful, but it's kind of like studying your neighbors by eavesdropping on their conversations through the wall and going through their trash instead of just talking to them directly. So that's why some researchers are hoping to talk to volcanoes directly — to observe their magma chambers in real time. Krafla volcanic area in Iceland. Getty Images/iStockphoto Introducing KMT: The Krafla Magma Testbed In some ways, the dream of a magma observatory started with an accident. Or to be a little more specific, it started with three different accidents in three different countries, each more than a decade ago. In each case, people set out to drill a deep hole into the rock near a volcano, and in each case, they accidentally drilled right down into the magma chamber. These accidents were a big surprise to the people doing the drilling, but to John Eichelberger, they were a big opportunity. Eichelberger has been studying volcanoes for around five decades. For much of that time, he's been curious about magma chambers. He thinks that knowing more about them could not only help us forecast volcanoes better, but also maybe tap into them for geothermal power. Unfortunately, he says, for a long time, it was difficult to find a way to drill into magma chambers and find out more about them, because people were not sure what would happen if you did. What if you triggered an eruption? 'Really the only way [drilling down to a magma chamber] could happen was by serendipity,' Eichelberger says. Serendipity like these three drilling accidents. They provided some real-world examples of what would happen if you drilled down to a magma chamber. And the answer was, it turns out, not all that much. In each of these three cases, the drilling companies hit the magma chamber and instead of like hot rock shooting out of their hole in a hot plume of fire, the magma basically climbed a little ways up the hole, and then cooled off into a plug of dark obsidian glass. This was very good news for Eichelberger. As he remembers it, he wound up meeting someone from a power company that was involved in one of these accidents. That representative let him know that they would be open to letting Eichelberger and other researchers do some more research near their power plant in the Krafla volcanic region of Iceland. And so, in 2014, Eichelberger gathered researchers together for a consortium – including a researcher named Yan Lavallée, now at Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich. 'Fifty or 60 of us spent the best part of a week together browsing ideas as to…what could we learn if we were to do this?' Lavallée syas, 'What could we learn if we were to drill back in the magma?' This was the start of the dream of KMT: The Krafla Magma Testbed, named for the volcanic system in Iceland. It's a dream that Eichelberger, Lavallée, and their collaborators are still trying to get funded, but they have a clear idea of how they'd make it a reality. 'First, we're going to install a drill rig at the Earth's surface, and we're going to start drilling,' Lavallée tells me. As they drill down, things will get hotter and hotter. They will pump fluid through, which will cool things down. Eventually, as they start to approach the magma of the magma chamber, the fluid will even start to cool down a little bit of that magma, too. 'It will vitrify to a glass,' Lavallée says. This glass will likely not be transparent like a window. Instead, it will be obsidian — dark black and full of minerals. The researchers will then continue to keep things cool while they carve into that black glass, creating something like a pocket within it. Once that pocket is made, they hope to drop measuring devices into it. Lavallée works with tools in his lab that are made of the same kinds of heavy-duty materials that we put into things like jet engines and other materials that can withstand extremely high temperatures. Once everything's in place, they will stop cooling things down. Then the heat of the surrounding molten rock should start warming the obsidian of the glass pocket back up again slowly, until it melts back into magma and flows back around the instruments, submerging them fully in the magma of the chamber. Then, hopefully, the researchers will finally have their observatory: a set of measuring devices feeding them real-time data about an active magma chamber. If this first project succeeds, then Eichelberger and Lavallée are brimming with ideas for further drilling projects that could help them tease out more information about volcanoes. They both hope this research could help the world tap into volcanoes as a source of power, but also that it could help with forecasting — to help us build the models of volcanoes' hearts that will give us the tools to predict their behavior as effectively as we predict hurricanes. And overall, Lavallée thinks that if this dream of theirs succeeds, it might revolutionize volcanology. 'I don't think we can really fully conceive how it's going to change things,' he says. Obviously, Lavallée has a clear reason to think this way, but when I asked Poland, who has no involvement with this project, what he thought, he was also pretty enthusiastic. 'I am excited to hear what they can come up with,' Poland said, 'I mean, you go into a magma chamber, you're going to learn some things.'
Vox
16-05-2025
- Science
- Vox
A wild project in Iceland could transform how we forecast volcano eruptions
is a senior producer and reporter on Unexplainable, Vox's science podcast. She covers everything scientists don't yet know but are trying to figure out, so her work explores everything from the inner workings of the human body to the distant edges of the universe When you picture a volcano, what do you see? I personally imagine a mountain sticking up into the sky. At the top of that mountain, I see a crater with a fiery hot lake boiling and roiling in it, or lava pouring down a slope like bright red candle wax, or massive clouds of grey ash exploding into the air. It's all incredible, powerful imagery, but it's also really just the tip of the volcano-berg. If I were to descend down through my imaginary volcano, moving down through layers and layers of earth, I'd find what might be an even more incredible feature: my volcano's pulsing, fiery furnace of a heart, also known as its 'magma chamber.' This is the reason that hot ash comes bursting up through the surface. It's the original source of my lava and my crater lake. It's where much of the important action in a volcano unfolds — and could hold secrets to help us better predict when a devastating eruption will occur. The problem is that we know much less about magma chambers like this than we'd like to. We're not even good at depicting them. 'We draw them as red balloons,' says Mike Poland, a geophysicist and scientist-in-charge at the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory. 'They are not. But it's a very difficult thing to represent.' Magma chambers are so hard to represent because they're so complex. They can be thousands of degrees Fahrenheit and have blends of solid material and hot liquid rock. These chambers have different temperatures in different spots, and different minerals melting at different heats or moving around in different ways. And, making things even more complex, there's a multitude of different gases that might make pressure build up before an eruption. But if we could better represent magma chambers — and just generally better understand exactly how they work — Poland says we might be able to dramatically improve our understanding of how volcanoes operate, and therefore be better able to anticipate what to expect from an impending eruption. But right now, because these chambers are so hot and so deep underground, it's hard to plumb their secrets. 'We don't have, like, the glass-bottomed volcano where you can just sort of look into and go like, Oh, that's what's going on,' Poland jokes. But what if we could have a glass-bottomed volcano that we could sort of look into and go like, Oh, that's what's going on? What if we could build, say, a little observatory deep down under the ground, right in the hot little heart of a volcano? It sounds absurd, and yet… ' There's a project in Iceland,' Poland tells me, 'They want to build a magma observatory. They want to drill into a magma chamber and put some monitoring equipment in the hole. … That would give us some idea of what's going on in there.' The project is called the Krafla Magma Testbed, or KMT, and the researchers working on it think it could revolutionize volcanology — and how we forecast eruptions. But first, what's missing from our volcano forecasts? One of the key motivations for building an observatory like this is that volcanology has a prediction problem. On the one hand, volcanoes are much more predictable than, say, earthquakes — they tend to give us some warning signs before they erupt. But on the other hand, it's hard to perfectly interpret those warning signs, which means the predictions volcanologists can make with our existing technology can be both incredibly helpful and frustratingly imprecise. For example, for the last year or so, a potential eruption has been brewing at Mount Spurr, a volcano near Anchorage, Alaska. Twice in the last 100 years, eruptions from Mount Spurr have rained ash down on the city, clogging up roadways, shutting down the local airport (one of the busiest cargo ports in the world), and settling like a fine dusting of gritty, gray, unmelting snow on cars and lawns and leaves of trees. People are understandably worried about a repeat performance, and the Alaska Volcano Observatory is monitoring the situation closely. Matt Haney, the scientist-in-charge at that observatory, told me while he can be sure that the volcano is displaying several key warning signs, he can't be sure exactly what the upcoming volcanic activity might look like — if there will be one eruption or many, exactly how intense they will be, or when they'll occur. 'That is not possible in the current levels of technology that we have,' he said. 'There's no definitive time frame, like, Oh, it's going to do exactly this, like it did in 1992. It's not the precise same playbook.' Even with 11 seismic stations gathering real-time data about the Alaskan volcano — even with devices measuring how it is changing shape in response to incoming magma, with planes circling in the sky to understand the venting of gases, and with an enormous amount of truly impressive work — these volcanologists still can't give us as clear a picture of the future as we might like them to. That's tricky enough when you're dealing with the prospect of a clogging and choking coating of volcanic ash, but it gets even more complicated when you're trying to make determinations about people's lives. 'This is the problem. How do you know how big an eruption's going to be?' — Mike Poland, geophysicist and scientist-in-charge at the Yellowstone Volcano Observatory Look, for example, at the case of Soufrière de Guadeloupe, a volcano on the Caribbean island of Basse-Terre. In the mid-1970s, it started venting steam. That, paired with increased earthquake activity, had people worried that a dramatic eruption might be brewing. And they had very good reason to worry: In 1902, another Caribbean volcano eruption sent a deadly mix of hot gas and ash and rock careening through a nearby city at 300 miles an hour, killing 27,000 people. So, hoping to avoid a repeat of this devastating event, the governmental authorities decided to go ahead and evacuate. More than 70,000 people left Basse-Terre. But the subsequent eruption was minor. As one report put it, the 'explosive emission of steam and debris was certainly impressive to those who had the misfortune to view it at close quarters. But from a volcanological point of view, it represented a rather trivial outburst.' If anything, the biggest impact on the volcanic activity was the evacuation itself — it hurt the local economy and disrupted kids' schooling. Sometimes, though, evacuations are extremely necessary. In 1991, at Mount Pinatubo in the Philippines, volcanologists once again read the volcanic tea leaves — stuff like seismic activity and steam explosions — and predicted a big eruption. Once again, people were evacuated. But this time, the decision to abandon the area saved thousands of lives — the ensuing eruption was one of the biggest in the 20th century. 'This is the problem,' Poland says. 'How do you know how big an eruption's going to be?' You don't want to evacuate too little, or too late, at the cost of human lives, he says. But equally, you don't want to be the boy who cries wolf, or the volcanologist who cries, 'ERUPTION!' ' It erodes trust in the scientists,' he says. Volcanology has come a long way since the 1970s, or even the 1990s. Scientists have much more monitoring equipment set up on volcanoes, and they have made better equipment over time. Their ability to make predictions about volcanoes has improved dramatically as a result. But as the case of Mount Spurr shows, even now — in 2025 — the field still grapples with the same fundamental problem of precision in their predictions. So how do these predictions get better? How could volcanologists further improve their predictions in order to help people make decisions about how to prepare for eruptions? Poland has spent a fair amount of time thinking about the answers to this question. He wrote a whole paper about it, in fact. And he thinks that improving volcano forecasting is not just about continuing to improve our monitoring equipment. Instead, he says, what we really need is better information about volcanoes themselves, and the hot molten rocks that power them. What can molten rock teach us about eruptions? Let's talk about how we currently forecast volcano eruptions. A lot of volcano prediction involves making very informed guesses about what a volcano might do in the future based on what that volcano has done in the past — what Poland calls pattern recognition. Take, for example, gas emissions or earthquakes. Essentially, he says, researchers will take a lot of very, very precise measurements of those phenomena that will allow them to then say 'Alright. X is happening. And when X happened before, Y happened afterward, so maybe now Y will happen again soon.' 'It's not necessarily based on any special understanding of the physics of volcanic activity or that particular volcano,' Poland says, 'It's more based on…We've seen this movie before, and we know how it's likely to evolve over time.' Related Your weather forecast is about to get a lot worse This approach has been incredibly useful. It's saved a lot of lives and helped scientists make some really good predictions about how a volcano might behave, broadly. But Poland likes to draw a comparison between this approach and with how we forecast the weather. Because in the past, weather scientists also relied heavily on pattern matching. If the pressure was dropping and it was getting colder, say, they might expect a storm to come through. But then, weather forecasting went through a kind of revolution. Scientists used satellites and other instruments to collect information about clouds and winds and rain. They collected huge amounts of data about the atmosphere, and people even flew directly into the eyes of phenomena like hurricanes to measure what was happening inside of those storms. 'This really abundant information was then used by modelers…to work out the physics of what's going on,' Poland says. Weather scientists still use a lot of historical data to inform their understanding of the future (and now, with AI, are actually turning back to their massive bodies of data to try some more advanced pattern recognition), but they have also built really sophisticated models of the physics of the atmosphere that help them make their predictions. And it has paid off: Last year, according to the National Hurricane Center, hurricane forecasters set new records for accuracy in their predictions for the 2024 Atlantic hurricane season. 'We can now forecast, with some degree of accuracy, whether a hurricane will form, how intense it is going to be, where it's going to go,' Poland says. 'Obviously not every forecast is perfect. And that's because our knowledge is still imperfect. But they know enough.' Poland wants volcanologists to build similar models of the underlying physics of volcanoes, which would mean building models of magma chambers. Scientists have been working on making models like this — and have even been working on applying them to forecasting. But if the weather scientists built their models by flying directly into things like hurricanes and taking measurements, volcano researchers have had a bit of a harder time doing the equivalent for magma chambers. They can't take direct measurements, so they've used seismic and electromagnetic imaging to take the equivalent of X-rays of the Earth, and they've studied places where ancient volcanoes have eroded away, bringing their cooled, frozen magma chambers up to the surface. They've even read the layers of volcanic crystals as though they were tree rings. This has been helpful, but it's kind of like studying your neighbors by eavesdropping on their conversations through the wall and going through their trash instead of just talking to them directly. So that's why some researchers are hoping to talk to volcanoes directly — to observe their magma chambers in real time. Krafla volcanic area in Iceland. Getty Images/iStockphoto Introducing KMT: The Krafla Magma Testbed In some ways, the dream of a magma observatory started with an accident. Or to be a little more specific, it started with three different accidents in three different countries, each more than a decade ago. In each case, people set out to drill a deep hole into the rock near a volcano, and in each case, they accidentally drilled right down into the magma chamber. These accidents were a big surprise to the people doing the drilling, but to John Eichelberger, they were a big opportunity. Eichelberger has been studying volcanoes for around five decades. For much of that time, he's been curious about magma chambers. He thinks that knowing more about them could not only help us forecast volcanoes better, but also maybe tap into them for geothermal power. Unfortunately, he says, for a long time, it was difficult to find a way to drill into magma chambers and find out more about them, because people were not sure what would happen if you did. What if you triggered an eruption? 'Really the only way [drilling down to a magma chamber] could happen was by serendipity,' Eichelberger says. Serendipity like these three drilling accidents. They provided some real-world examples of what would happen if you drilled down to a magma chamber. And the answer was, it turns out, not all that much. In each of these three cases, the drilling companies hit the magma chamber and instead of like hot rock shooting out of their hole in a hot plume of fire, the magma basically climbed a little ways up the hole, and then cooled off into a plug of dark obsidian glass. This was very good news for Eichelberger. As he remembers it, he wound up meeting someone from a power company that was involved in one of these accidents. That representative let him know that they would be open to letting Eichelberger and other researchers do some more research near their power plant in the Krafla volcanic region of Iceland. And so, in 2014, Eichelberger gathered researchers together for a consortium – including a researcher named Yan Lavallée, now at Ludwig Maximilian University of Munich. 'Fifty or 60 of us spent the best part of a week together browsing ideas as to…what could we learn if we were to do this?' Lavallée syas, 'What could we learn if we were to drill back in the magma?' This was the start of the dream of KMT: The Krafla Magma Testbed, named for the volcanic system in Iceland. It's a dream that Eichelberger, Lavallée, and their collaborators are still trying to get funded, but they have a clear idea of how they'd make it a reality. 'First, we're going to install a drill rig at the Earth's surface, and we're going to start drilling,' Lavallée tells me. As they drill down, things will get hotter and hotter. They will pump fluid through, which will cool things down. Eventually, as they start to approach the magma of the magma chamber, the fluid will even start to cool down a little bit of that magma, too. 'It will vitrify to a glass,' Lavallée says. This glass will likely not be transparent like a window. Instead, it will be obsidian — dark black and full of minerals. The researchers will then continue to keep things cool while they carve into that black glass, creating something like a pocket within it. Once that pocket is made, they hope to drop measuring devices into it. Lavallée works with tools in his lab that are made of the same kinds of heavy-duty materials that we put into things like jet engines and other materials that can withstand extremely high temperatures. Once everything's in place, they will stop cooling things down. Then the heat of the surrounding molten rock should start warming the obsidian of the glass pocket back up again slowly, until it melts back into magma and flows back around the instruments, submerging them fully in the magma of the chamber. Then, hopefully, the researchers will finally have their observatory: a set of measuring devices feeding them real-time data about an active magma chamber. If this first project succeeds, then Eichelberger and Lavallée are brimming with ideas for further drilling projects that could help them tease out more information about volcanoes. They both hope this research could help the world tap into volcanoes as a source of power, but also that it could help with forecasting — to help us build the models of volcanoes' hearts that will give us the tools to predict their behavior as effectively as we predict hurricanes. And overall, Lavallée thinks that if this dream of theirs succeeds, it might revolutionize volcanology. 'I don't think we can really fully conceive how it's going to change things,' he says. Obviously, Lavallée has a clear reason to think this way, but when I asked Poland, who has no involvement with this project, what he thought, he was also pretty enthusiastic. 'I am excited to hear what they can come up with,' Poland said, 'I mean, you go into a magma chamber, you're going to learn some things.'
Leader Live
15-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Leader Live
Eurovision winner Nemo on ‘insanity of having glittery party' amid world events
The Swiss non-binary singer, 25, who triumphed in Malmo, Sweden, with the opera-dance hit The Code, will perform new song Unexplainable during the 2025 final on Saturday, after releasing it on Friday. Following their win last year, Nemo said 'this whole experience was really intense' and they were 'really sad' over the furore about the 2024 contest, along with criticising that they had to 'smuggle' the trans flag on stage. The controversy led the organisers, the European Broadcasting Union (EBU), to appoint an independent expert to review the contest and introduce welfare measures for artists, along with setting out that only the country flag can be carried by artists in the arena but symbols are welcome from fans. However, Nemo reflected that the EBU are in a 'difficult position'. The organisation has to be political neutral while putting on an event that sees countries compete against each other. The singer, who has been recording a new album in London over the last few months, told the PA news agency in Basel: 'I'm not thinking of anything specific in particular. 'But I think there's just so many things that are happening right now and that (is in) complete parallel to what Eurovision is. It's kind of insane to be here and have a glittery party when you think of the world at the moment. 'There just needs to be, like, more discussions about what Eurovision's role is in like Europe and in the world, and what it can contribute? Can it contribute something substantial? 'Is it just going to be a world people can get lost in for a few weeks to kind of forget about everything else, or is it something that it can actually contribute to?' Nemo called on the EBU to be 'more transparent' when it comes to decision making and added: 'I think it would help to really understand intentions and just the way forward for Eurovision.' On the meaning of their win, Nemo said 'there's a lot of talks about queer, non-binary, trans people at the moment, but not a lot of talks with them, and I think it was kind of magical, in a way that it laid the ground for conversation in a very positive way'. They also said there is a lot of 'misconceptions' about people who identify as trans and non-binary, as well as 'hate', and questioned whether they would have made the 'very joyful' queer song The Code, about their gender identity, in this climate. Asked about the recent Supreme Court ruling on the definition of a woman, Nemo called the decision 'very tough for me personally', and said the trans discourse is 'worrying'. They said: 'Eurovision is a platform for voices that aren't always heard, and it's a bit weird, because is this the only place where we can actually speak and be heard, and (does it) have to be a stage where we all dress up really, like crazy and do the most insane staging. 'So is that really the place we want to have these discussions, but sometimes you can't choose where you want those discussions to take place.' It comes after last year's contest saw Dutch singer Joost Klein kicked out of the competition by the EBU over alleged verbal threats to a female production worker, which he denied. Earlier this month, Nemo had called for Israel to be barred from competing amid the war in Gaza, and when pressed on how that could affect Israeli singer Yuval Raphael, a survivor of the October 7 Hamas attacks, Nemo said this was not about 'a single individual'. They also said it had nothing to do with Israeli broadcaster Kan which, following protests from thousands of pro-Palestinian marchers last year, claimed it 'faced immense pressure and an unprecedented display of hatred' from the public artists and delegations in Malmo. Tensions appeared to have eased this year, with smaller pro-Palestinian protests in Basel on Sunday and Wednesday. The city of Basel, which has busking on the streets, pipe players, free music, food and other events, said Eurovision has been 'successful' so far, with thousands of 'enthusiastic spectators'. Ten more acts will qualify for the final on Thursday night, and will compete on Saturday alongside Switzerland's Zoe Me, and the 'big five' of the UK, Germany, France, Spain and Italy. Martin Green, director of the Eurovision Song Contest at the EBU, said: 'The EBU is not immune to global events but, together with our members, it is our role to ensure the contest remains – at its heart – a universal event that promotes connections, diversity and inclusion through music. 'We all aspire to keep the Eurovision Song Contest positive and inclusive and aspire to show the world as it could be, rather than how it necessarily is.' He added that the event, which has never been 'more important, or more popular', offers a way for people to 'connect and celebrate what we have in common and not what divides us', while there is 'polarisation' in the world.
