Mathematics for Sustainability (Part 2)

21 November, 2012

guest post by John Roe

• Michael Blastland and Andrew Dilnot, Commonsense Guide to Understanding Numbers in the News, in Politics, and in Life, Gotham, New York, 2008. (Review at New York Times.)

In Mathematics for Sustainability 1 I explained that I want to develop a new Gen Ed course “to enable students to develop the quantitative and qualitative skills needed to reason effectively about environmental and economic sustainability”. With this as the general objective, what are some of the specific content areas that the course should address, and what should be the specific objectives within each content area?

Right now, I see four mathematical content areas:

• Measuring
• Changing
• Networking
• Risking

Measuring – using numbers (including “large” and “small” numbers) to get an idea of the size and significance of things. Including, for instance: physical units, prefixes (mega, giga, nano, and all that), percentages/ratios, estimation, reliability. That’s a list of concepts on the math side but of course the examples should be sustainability focused. So I’d like the students to be able to answer questions like

• An inch of rain falls over a forest plot of an area 3.21 square miles. How many tons of water fall?

• Roughly, what is the total mass of carbon dioxide in the
Earth’s atmosphere at present?

• Suppose that a nuclear accident spreads 2.3 grams of cesium-137 uniformly over an area of 900 square miles. Compare the radioactivity from this source with the natural background.

• On average, how many gallons of gasoline per second are burned on the Pennsylvania Turnpike?

• A 10-acre farm near State College can produce enough food to support how many people on a vegetarian diet? On a “standard American” diet?

• Roughly, how many birds do you think there are in the world? How accurate do you think your estimate is?

Of course, part of “being able to answer” such questions is being able to know what additional questions to ask in order to give reasonable answers.

I am looking at several books in order to get a handle on this part of the course. Right now I am reading The Numbers Game by Blastland and Dilnot. It starts with an arresting example: how many centenarians are there in the US? That should be easy: just count, right? In fact, census returns ask people to report their age. But the self-reported numbers vary wildly and are estimated to be exaggerated by factors of 20 or more in some cases. Starting from this example, the book seems to give a good overview both of the difficulty and the importance of measuring, both in absolute and relative terms.

Any more suggestions for this part? Thanks!

I am thinking now to put the important distinction between stocks and flows in this section too. (We have to know what we are measuring!) Logically, it might belong in the Changing section but pedagogically it seems better here. A reader on Azimuth sent me a link to this interesting paper which points out how important the stock/flow distinction is in public (mis)understanding of the greenhouse effect:

• John D. Sterman and Linda Booth Sweeney, Understanding public complacency about climate change: adults’ mental models of climate change violate conservation of matter, Climatic Change 80 (2007), 213-238.


Mathematics of the Environment (Part 8)

20 November, 2012

We’re trying to get a little insight into the Earth’s glacial cycles, using very simple models. We have a long way to go, but let’s review where we are.

In Part 5 and Part 6, we studied a model where the Earth can be bistable. In other words, if the parameters are set right it has two stable states: one where it’s cold and stays cold because it’s icy and reflects lots of sunlight, and another where it’s hot and stays hot because it’s dark and absorbs lots of sunlight.

In Part 7 we saw a bistable system being pushed around by noise and also an oscillating ‘force’. When the parameters are set right, we see stochastic resonance: the noise amplifies the system’s response to the oscillations! This is supposed to remind us of how the Milankovich cycles in the Earth’s orbit may get amplified to cause glacial cycles. But this system was not based on any model of the Earth’s climate.

Now a student in this course has put the pieces together! Try this program by Michael Knap and see what happens:

A stochastic energy balance model.

Remember, our simple model of the Earth’s climate amounted to this differential equation:

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q(t) c(T(t)) }

Here:

A + B T is a linear approximation to the power per square meter emitted by the Earth at temperature T. Satellite measurements give A = 218 watts/meter2 and B = 1.90 watts/meter2 per degree Celsius.

Q(t) is the insolation: the solar power per square meter hitting the top of the Earth’s atmosphere, averaged over location. In Michael’s software you can choose various functions for Q(t). For example, it can be an step function with

Q(t) = \left\{ \begin{array}{ccl} Q_{\mathrm{base}} + X & \mathrm{for} & 0 \le t \le \tau \\  Q & \mathrm{for} & t > t_i  \end{array} \right.

Here Q_{\mathrm{base}} = 341.5 watts/meter2 is the average insolation we actually see now. X is an extra ‘insolation bump’ that lasts for a time \tau. Here we are imagining, just for fun, that we can turn up the brightness of the Sun for a while!

Or, you can choose Q(t) to be a sinusoidal function:

Q(t) = Q_{\mathrm{base}} + X \sin(t/\tau)

where X is the amplitude and 2 \pi t_i is the period of the oscillation. This is better for understanding stochastic resonance.

c(T) is the average coalbedo of the Earth: that is, the fraction of solar power it absorbs. We approximate this by:

c(T) = c_i + \frac{1}{2} (c_f-c_i) (1 + \tanh(\gamma T))

Here c_i = 0.35 is the icy coalbedo, good for very low temperatures when much of the Earth is light in color. c_f = 0.7 is the ice-free coalbedo, good for high temperatures when the Earth is darker. Finally, \gamma is the coalbedo transition rate, which says how rapidly the coalbedo changes as the Earth’s temperature increases.

Now Michael Knap is adding noise, giving this equation:

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q(t) c(T(t)) } + \sigma w(t)

where w(t) is white noise and \sigma is another constant. To look like professionals we can also write this using differentials instead of derivatives:

\displaystyle{ C d T = \left(- A - B T + Q(t) c(T(t))\right) \, d T + \sigma \, dW(t) }

where W is the Wiener process and we’re using

\displaystyle{ w(t) = \frac{d W}{d t} }

Play around with Michael’s model and see what effects you can get!

Puzzle. List some of the main reasons this model is not yet ready for realistic investigations of how the Milankovitch cycles cause glacial cycles.

You can think of some big reasons just knowing what I’ve told you already in this course. But you’ll be able to think of some more once you know more about Milankovitch cycles.

Milankovitch cycles

We’ve been having fun with models, and we’ve been learning something from them, but now it’s time to go back and think harder about what’s really going on.

As I keep hinting, a lot of scientists believe that the Earth’s glacial cycles are related to cyclic changes in the Earth’s orbit and the tilt of its axis. Since one of the first scientists to carefully study this issue was Milutin Milankovitch, these are called Milankovitch cycles. Now let’s look at them in more detail.

The three major types of Milankovitch cycle are:

• changes in the eccentricity of the Earth’s orbit – that is, how much the orbit deviates from being a circle:




(changes greatly exaggerated)

• changes in the obliquity, or tilt of the Earth’s axis:



precession, meaning changes in the direction of the Earth’s axis relative to the fixed stars:



The first important thing to realize is this: it’s not obvious that Milankovitch cycles can cause glacial cycles. During a glacial period, the Earth is about 5°C cooler than it is now. But the Milankovitch cycles barely affect the overall annual amount of solar radiation hitting the Earth!

This fact is clear for precession or changes in obliquity, since these just involve the tilt of the Earth’s axis, and the Earth is nearly a sphere. The amount of Sun hitting a sphere doesn’t depend on how the sphere is ’tilted’.

For changes in the eccentricity of the Earth’s orbit, this fact is a bit less obvious. After all, when the orbit is more eccentric, the Earth gets closer to the Sun sometimes, but farther at other times. So you need to actually sit down and do some math to figure out the net effect. Luckily, Greg Egan did this calculation in a very nice way, earlier here on the Azimuth blog. I’ll show you his calculation at the end of this article. It turns out that when the Earth’s orbit is at its most eccentric, it gets very, very slightly more energy from the Sun each year: 0.167% more than when its orbit is at its least eccentric. This is not enough to warm the Earth very much.

So, there are interesting puzzles involved in the Milankovitch cycles. They don’t affect the total amount of radiation that hits the Earth each year—not much, anyway—but they do cause substantial changes in the amount of radiation that hits the Earth at various different latitudes in various different seasons. We need to understand what such changes might do.

James Croll was one of the first to think about this, back around 1875. He decided that what really matters is the amount of sunlight hitting the far northern latitudes in winter. When this was low, he claimed, glaciers would tend to form and an ice age would start. But later, in the 1920s, Milankovitch made the opposite claim: what really matters is the amount of sunlight hitting the far northern latitudes in summer. When this was low, an ice age would start.

If we take a quick look at the data, we see that the truth is not obvious:


I like this graph because it’s pretty… but I wish the vertical axes were labelled. We will see some more precise graphs in future weeks.

Nonetheless, this graph gives some idea of what’s going on. Precession, obliquity and eccentricity vary in complex but still predictable ways. From this you can compute the amount of solar energy that hits the surface of the Earth’s atmosphere on July 1st at a latitude of 65° N. That’s the yellow curve. People believe this quantity has some relation to the Earth’s temperature, as shown by the black curve at bottom. However, the relation is far from clear!

Indeed, if you only look at this graph, you might easily decide that Milankovitch cycles are not important in causing glacial cycles. But people have analyzed temperature proxies over long spans of time, and found evidence for cyclic changes at periods that match those of the Milankovitch cycles. Here’s a classic paper on this subject:

• J. D. Hays, J. Imbrie, and N. J. Shackleton, Variations in the earth’s orbit: pacemaker of the Ice Ages, Science 194 (1976), 1121-1132.

They selected two sediment cores from the Indian ocean, which contain sediments deposited over the last 450,000 years. They measured:

1) Ts, an estimate of summer sea-surface temperatures at the core site, derived from a statistical analysis of tiny organisms called radiolarians found in the sediments.

2) δ18O, the excess of the heavy isotope of oxygen in tiny organisms called foraminifera also found in the sediments.

3) The percentage of radiolarians that are Cycladophora davisiana—a certain species not used in the estimation of Ts.

Identical samples were analyzed for the three variables at 10-centimeter intervals throughout each core. Then they took a Fourier transform of this data to see at which frequencies these variables wiggle the most! When we take the Fourier transform of a function and then square it, the result is called the power spectrum. So, they actually graphed the power spectra for these three variables:

The top graph shows the power spectra for Ts, δ18O, and the percentage of Cycladophora davisiana. The second one shows the spectra after a bit of extra messing around. Either way, there seem to be peaks at frequencies of 19, 23, 42 and roughly 100 thousand years. However the last number is quite fuzzy: if you look, you’ll see the three different power spectra have peaks at 94, 106 and 122 thousand years.

So, some sort of cycles seem to be occurring. This is far from the only piece of evidence, but it’s a famous one.

Now let’s go over the three major forms of Milankovitch cycle, and keep our eye out for cycles that take place every 19, 23, 42 or roughly 100 thousand years!

Eccentricity

The Earth’s orbit is an ellipse, and the eccentricity of this ellipse says how far it is from being circular. But the eccentricity of the Earth’s orbit slowly changes: it varies from being nearly circular, with an eccentricity of 0.005, to being more strongly elliptical, with an eccentricity of 0.058. The mean eccentricity is 0.028. There are several periodic components to these variations. The strongest occurs with a period of 413,000 years, and changes the eccentricity by ±0.012. Two other components have periods of 95,000 and 123,000 years.

The eccentricity affects the percentage difference in incoming solar radiation between the perihelion, the point where the Earth is closest to the Sun, and the aphelion, when it is farthest from the Sun. This works as follows. The percentage difference between the Earth’s distance from the Sun at perihelion and aphelion is twice the eccentricity, and the percentage change in incoming solar radiation is about twice that. The first fact follows from the definition of eccentricity, while the second follows from differentiating the inverse-square relationship between brightness and distance.

Right now the eccentricity is 0.0167, or 1.67%. Thus, the distance from the Earth to Sun varies 3.34% over the course of a year. This in turn gives an annual variation in incoming solar radiation of about 6.68%. Note that this is not the cause of the seasons: those arise due to the Earth’s tilt, and occur at different times in the northern and southern hemispheres.

Obliquity

The angle of the Earth’s axial tilt with respect to the plane of its orbit, called the obliquity, varies between 22.1° and 24.5° in a roughly periodic way, with a period of 41,000 years. When the obliquity is high, the strength of seasonal variations is stronger.

Right now the obliquity is 23.44°, roughly halfway between its extreme values. It is decreasing, and will reach its minimum value around the year 10,000 CE.

Precession

The slow turning in the direction of the Earth’s axis of rotation relative to the fixed stars, called precession, has a period of roughly 23,000 years. As precession occurs, the seasons drift in and out of phase with the perihelion and aphelion of the Earth’s orbit.

Right now the perihelion occurs during the southern hemisphere’s summer, while the aphelion is reached during the southern winter. This tends to make the southern hemisphere seasons more extreme than the northern hemisphere seasons.

The gradual precession of the Earth is not due to the same physical mechanism as the wobbling of the top. That sort of wobbling does occur, but it has a period of only 427 days. The 23,000-year precession is due to tidal interactions between the Earth, Sun and Moon. For details, see:

• John Baez, The wobbling of the Earth and other curiosities.

In the real world, most things get more complicated the more carefully you look at them. For example, precession actually has several periodic components. According to André Berger, a top expert on changes in the Earth’s orbit, the four biggest components have these periods:

• 23,700 years

• 22,400 years

• 18,980 years

• 19,160 years

in order of decreasing strength. But in geology, these tend to show up either as a single peak around the mean value of 21,000 years, or two peaks at frequencies of 23,000 and 19,000 years.

To add to the fun, the three effects I’ve listed—changes in eccentricity, changes in obliquity, and precession—are not independent. According to Berger, cycles in eccentricity arise from ‘beats’ between different precession cycles:

• The 95,000-year eccentricity cycle arises from a beat between the 23,700-year and 19,000-year precession cycles.

• The 123,000-year eccentricity cycle arises from a beat between the 22,4000-year and 18,000-year precession cycles.

I’d like to delve into all this stuff more deeply someday, but I haven’t had time yet. For now, let me just refer you to this classic review paper:

• André Berger, Pleistocene climatic variability at astronomical frequencies, Quaternary International 2 (1989), 1-14.

Later, as I get up to speed, I’ll talk about more modern work.

Paleontology versus astronomy

Now we can compare the data from ocean sediments to the Milankovitch cycles as computed in astronomy:

• The roughly 19,000-year cycle in ocean sediments may come from 18,980-year and 19,160-year precession cycles.

• The roughly 23,000-year cycle in ocean sediments may come from 23,700-year precession cycle.

• The roughly 42,000-year cycle in ocean sediments may come from the 41,000-year obliquity cycle.

• The roughly 100,000-year cycle in ocean sediments may come from the 95,000-year and 123,000-year eccentricity cycles.

Again, the last one looks the most fuzzy. As we saw, different kinds of sediments seem to indicate cycles of 94, 106 and 122 thousand years. At least two of these periods match eccentricity cycles fairly well. But a detailed analysis would be required to distinguish between real effects and coincidences in this subject! Such analyses have been done, of course. But until I study them more, I won’t try to discuss them.


Talk at Berkeley

15 November, 2012

This Friday, November 16, 2012, I’ll be giving the annual Lang Lecture at the math department of U. C. Berkeley. I’ll be speaking on The Mathematics of Planet Earth. There will be tea and cookies in 1015 Evans Hall from 3 to 4 pm. The talk itself will be in 105 Northgate Hall from 4 to 5 pm, with questions going on to 5:30 if people are interested.

You’re all invited!


Mathematics of the Environment (Part 6)

10 November, 2012

Last time we saw a ‘bistable’ climate model, where the temperatures compatible with a given amount of sunshine can form an S-shaped curve like this:

The horizontal axis is insolation, the vertical is temperature. Between the green and the red lines the Earth can have 3 temperatures compatible with a given insolation. For example, the black vertical line intersects the S-shaped curve in three points. So we get three possible solutions: a hot Earth, a cold Earth, and an intermediate Earth.

But last time I claimed the intermediate Earth was unstable, so there are just two stable solutions. So, we say this model is bistable. This is like a simple light switch, which has two stable positions but also an intermediate unstable position halfway in between.

(Have you ever enjoyed putting a light switch into this intermediate position? If not, you must not be a physicist.)

Why is the intermediate equilibrium unstable? It seems plausible from the light switch example, but to be sure, we need to go back and study the original equation:

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q c(T(t)) }

We need see what happens when we push T slightly away from one of its equilibrium values. We could do this analytically or numerically.

Luckily, Allan Erskine has made a wonderful program that lets us study it numerically: check it out!

Temperature dynamics.

Here’s you’ll see a bunch of graphs of temperature as a function of time, T(t). To spice things up, Allan has made the insolation a function of time, which starts out big for some interval [0,\tau] and then drops to its usual value Q = 341.5. So, these graphs are solutions of

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q(t) c(T(t)) }

where Q(t) is a step function with

Q(t) = \left\{ \begin{array}{ccl} Q + X & \mathrm{for} & 0 \le t \le \tau \\  Q & \mathrm{for} & t > \tau  \end{array} \right.

The different graphs show solutions with different initial conditions, ranging from hot to cold. Using sliders on the bottom, you can adjust:

• the coalbedo transition rate \gamma,

• the amount X of extra insolation,

• the time \tau at which the extra insolation ends.

I urge you to start by setting \tau to its maximum value. That will make the insolation be constant as a function of time. Then you if \gamma and X are big enough, you’ll get bistability. For example:

I get this with \gamma about 0.08, X about 28.5. You can see a hot stable equilibrium, a cold one, and a solution that hesitates between the two for quite a while before going up to the hot one. This intermediate solution must be starting out very slightly above the unstable equilibrium.

When X is zero, there’s only one equilibrium solution: the cold Earth.

I can’t make X so big that the hot Earth is the only equilibrium, but it’s possible according to our model: I’ll need to change the software a bit to let us make the insolation bigger.

All sorts of more interesting things happen when we move \tau down from its maximum value. I hope you play with the parameters and see what happens. But essentially, what happens is that the hot Earth is only stable before t = \tau, since we need the extra insolation to make that happen. After that, the Earth is fated to go to a cold state.

Needless to say, these results should not be trusted when it comes to the actual climate of our actual planet! More about that later.

We can also check the bistability in a more analytical way. We get an equilibrium solution of

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q c(T(t)) }

whenever we find a number T obeying this equation:

- A - B T + Q c(T) = 0

We can show that for certain values of \gamma and Q, we get solutions for three different temperatures T. It’s easy to see that - A - B T + Q c(T) is positive for very small T: if the Earth were extremely cold, the Sun would warm it up. Similarly, this quantity is negative for very large T: the Earth would cool down if it were very hot. So, the reason

- A - B T + Q c(T) = 0

has three solutions is that it starts out positive, then goes down below zero, then goes up above zero, and then goes down below zero again. So, for the intermediate point at which it’s zero, we have

\displaystyle{\frac{d}{dT}( -A - B T + Q c(T)) > 0  }

That means that if it starts out slightly warmer than this value of T, the temperature will increase—so this solution is unstable. For the hot and cold solutions, we get

\displaystyle{ \frac{d}{dT}(-A - B T + Q c(T)) < 0  }

so these equilibria are stable.

A moral

What morals can we extract from this model?

As far as climate science goes, one moral is that it pays to spend some time making sure we understand simple models before we dive into more complicated ones. Right now we’re looking at a very simple one, but we’re already seeing some interesting phenomena. The kind of model we’re looking at now is called a Budyko-Sellers model. These have been studied since the late 1960’s:

• M. I. Budyko, On the origin of glacial epochs (in Russian), Meteor. Gidrol. 2 (1968), 3-8.

• M. I. Budyko, The effect of solar radiation variations on the climate of the earth, Tellus 21 (1969), 611-619.

• William D. Sellers, A global climatic model based on the energy balance of the earth-atmosphere system, J. Appl. Meteor. 8 (1969), 392-400.

• Carl Crafoord and Erland Källén, A note on the condition for existence of more than one steady state solution in Budyko-Sellers type models, J. Atmos. Sci. 35 (1978), 1123-1125.

• Gerald R. North, David Pollard and Bruce Wielicki, Variational formulation of Budyko-Sellers climate models, J. Atmos. Sci. 36 (1979), 255-259.

I should talk more about some slightly more complex models someday.

It also pays to compare our models to reality! For example, the graphs we’ve seen show some remarkably hot and cold temperatures for the Earth. That’s a bit unnerving. Let’s investigate. Suppose we set \gamma = 0 on our slider. Then the coalbedo of the Earth becomes independent of temperature: it’s 0.525, halfway between its icy and ice-free values. Then, when the insolation takes its actual value of 342.5 watts per square meter, the model says the Earth’s temperature is very chilly: about -20 °C!

Does that mean the model is fundamentally flawed? Maybe not! After all, it’s based on very light-colored Earth. Suppose we use the actual albedo of the Earth. Of course that’s hard to define, much less determine. But let’s just look up some average value of the Earth’s albedo: supposedly it’s about 0.3. That gives a coalbedo of c = 0.7. If we plug that in our formula:

\displaystyle{ Q = \frac{ A + B T } {c} }

we get 11 °C. That’s not too far from the Earth’s actual average temperature, namely about 15 °C. So the chilly temperature of -20 °C seems to come from an Earth that’s a lot lighter in color than ours.

Our model includes the greenhouse effect, since the coeficients A and B were determined by satellite measurements of how much radiation actually escapes the Earth’s atmosphere and shoots out into space. As a further check to our model, we can look at an even simpler zero-dimensional energy balance model: a completely black Earth with no greenhouse effect. We discussed that earlier.

As he explains, this model gives the Earth a temperature of 6 °C. He also shows that in this model, lowering the albedo to a realistic value of 0.3 lowers the temperature to a chilly -18 ° C. To get from that to something like our Earth, we must take the greenhouse effect into account.

This sort of fiddling around is the sort of thing we must do to study the flaws and virtues of a climate model. Of course, any realistic climate model is vastly more sophisticated than the little toy we’ve been looking at, so the ‘fiddling around’ must also be more sophisticated. With a more sophisticated model, we can also be more demanding. For example, when I said 11 °C is “is not too far from the Earth’s actual average temperature, namely about 15 °C”, I was being very blasé about what’s actually a big discrepancy. I only took that attitude because the calculations we’re doing now are very preliminary.


Mathematics of the Environment (Part 5)

6 November, 2012

We saw last time that the Earth’s temperature seems to have been getting colder but also more erratic for the last 30 million years or so. Here’s the last 5 million again:

People think these glacial cycles are due to variations in the Earth’s orbit, but as we’ll see later, those cause quite small changes in ‘insolation’—roughly, the amount of sunshine hitting the Earth (as a function of time and location). So, M. I. Budyko, an expert on the glacial cycles, wrote:

Thus, the present thermal regime and glaciations of the Earth prove to be characterized by high instability. Comparatively small changes of radiation—only by 1.0-1.5%—are sufficient for the development of ice cover on the land and oceans that reaches temperate latitudes.

How can small changes in the amount of sunlight hitting the Earth, or other parameters, create big changes in the Earth’s temperature? The obvious answer is positive feedback: some sort of amplifying effect.

But what could it be? Do we know feedback mechanisms that can amplify small changes in temperature? Yes. Here are a few obvious ones:

Water vapor feedback. When it gets warmer, more water evaporates, and the air becomes more humid. But water vapor is a greenhouse gas, which causes additional warming. Conversely, when the Earth cools down, the air becomes drier, so the greenhouse effect becomes weaker, which tends to cool things down.

Ice albedo feedback. Snow and ice reflect more light than liquid oceans or soil. When the Earth warms up, snow and ice melt, so the Earth becomes darker, absorbs more light, and tends to get get even warmer. Conversely, when the Earth cools down, more snow and ice form, so the Earth becomes lighter, absorbs less light, and tends to get even cooler.

Carbon dioxide solubility feedback. Cold water can hold more carbon dioxide than warm water: that’s why opening a warm can of soda can be so explosive. So, when the Earth’s oceans warm up, they release carbon dioxide. But carbon dioxide is a greenhouse gas, which causes additional warming. Conversely, when the oceaans cool down, they absorb more carbon dioxide, so the greenhouse effect becomes weaker, which tends to cool things down.

Of course, there are also negative feedbacks: otherwise the climate would be utterly unstable! There are also complicated feedbacks whose overall effect is harder to evaluate:

Planck feedback. A hotter world radiates more heat, which cools it down. This is the big negative feedback that keeps all the positive feedbacks from making the Earth insanely hot or insanely cold.

Cloud feedback. A warmer Earth has more clouds, which reflect more light but also increase the greenhouse effect.

Lapse rate feedback. An increased greenhouse effect changes the vertical temperature profile of the atmosphere, which has effects of its own—but this works differently near the poles and near the equator.

See also “week302” of This Week’s Finds, where Nathan Urban tells us more about feedbacks and how big they’re likely to be.

Understanding all these feedbacks, and which ones are important for the glacial cycles we see, is a complicated business. Instead of diving straight into this, let’s try something much simpler. Let’s just think about how the ice albedo effect could, in theory, make the Earth bistable.

To do this, let’s look at the very simplest model in this great not-yet-published book:

• Gerald R. North, Simple Models of Global Climate.

This is a zero-dimensional energy balance model, meaning that it only involves the average temperature of the earth, the average solar radiation coming in, and the average infrared radiation going out.

The average temperature will be T, measured in Celsius. We’ll assume the Earth radiates power square meter equal to

\displaystyle{ A + B T }

where A = 218 watts/meter2 and B = 1.90 watts/meter2 per degree Celsius. This is a linear approximation taken from satellite data on our Earth. In reality, the power emitted grows faster than linearly with temperature.

We’ll assume the Earth absorbs solar energy power per square meter equal to

Q c(T)

Here:

Q is the average insolation: that is, the amount of solar power per square meter hitting the top of the Earth’s atmosphere, averaged over location and time of year. In reality Q is about 341.5 watts/meter2. This is one quarter of the solar constant, meaning the solar power per square meter that would hit a panel hovering in space above the Earth’s atmosphere and facing directly at the Sun. (Why a quarter? We’ve seen why: it’s because the area of a sphere is 4 \pi r^2 while the area of a circle is just \pi r^2.)

c(T) is the coalbedo: the fraction of solar power that gets absorbed. The coalbedo depends on the temperature; we’ll have to say how.

Given all this, we get

\displaystyle{ C \frac{d T}{d t} = - A - B T + Q c(T(t)) }

where C is Earth’s heat capacity in joules per degree per square meter. Of course this is a funny thing, because heat energy is stored not only at the surface but also in the air and/or water, and the details vary a lot depending on where we are. But if we consider a uniform planet with dry air and no ocean, North says we may roughly take C equal to about half the heat capacity at constant pressure of the column of dry air over a square meter, namely 5 million joules per degree Celsius.

The easiest thing to do is find equilibrium solutions, meaning solutions where \frac{d T}{d t} = 0, so that

A + B T = Q c(T)

Now C doesn’t matter anymore! We’d like to solve for T as a function of the insolation Q, but it’s easier to solve for Q as a function of T:

\displaystyle{ Q = \frac{ A + B T } {c(T)} }

To go further, we need to guess some formula for the coalbedo c(T). The coalbedo, remember, is the fraction of sunlight that gets absorbed when it hits the Earth. It’s 1 minus the albedo, which is the fraction that gets reflected. Here’s a little chart of albedos:

If you get mixed up between albedo and coalbedo, just remember: coal has a high coalbedo.

Since we’re trying to keep things very simple right not, not model nature in all its glorious complexity, let’s just say the average albedo of the Earth is 0.65 when it’s very cold and there’s lots of snow. So, let

c_i = 1  - 0.65 =  0.35

be the ‘icy’ coalbedo, good for very low temperatures. Similarly, let’s say the average albedo drops to 0.3 when its very hot and the Earth is darker. So, let

c_f = 1 - 0.3 = 0.7

be the ‘ice-free’ coalbedo, good for high temperatures when the Earth is darker.

Then, we need a function of temperature that interpolates between c_i and c_f. Let’s try this:

c(T) = c_i + \frac{1}{2} (c_f-c_i) (1 + \tanh(\gamma T))

If you’re not a fan of the hyperbolic tangent function \tanh, this may seem scary. But don’t be intimidated!

The function \frac{1}{2}(1 + \tanh(\gamma T)) is just a function that goes smoothly from 0 at low temperatures to 1 at high temperatures. This ensures that the coalbedo is near its icy value c_i at low temperatures, and near its ice-free value c_f at high temperatures. But the fun part here is \gamma, a parameter that says how rapidly the coalbedo rises as the Earth gets warmer. Depending on this, we’ll get different effects!

The function c(T) rises fastest at T = 0, since that’s where \tanh (\gamma T) has the biggest slope. We’re just lucky that in Celsius T = 0 is the melting point of ice, so this makes a bit of sense.

Now Allan Erskine‘s programming magic comes into play! I’m very fortunate that the Azimuth Project has attracted some programmers who can make nice software for me to show you. Unfortunately his software doesn’t work on this blog—yet!—so please hop over here to see it in action:

Temperature versus insolation.

You can slide a slider to adjust the parameter \gamma to various values between 0 and 1.

In the little graph at right, you can see how the coalbedo c(T) changes as a function of the temperature T. In this graph the temperature ranges from -50 °C and 50 °C; the graph depends on what value of \gamma you choose with slider.

In the big graph at left, you can see how the insolation Q required to yield a given temperature T between -50 °C and 50 °C. As we’ve seen, it’s easiest to graph Q as a function of T:

\displaystyle{ Q = \frac{ A + B T } {c_i + \frac{1}{2} (c_f-c_i) (1 + \tanh(\gamma T))} }

Solving for T here is hard, but we can just flip the graph over to see what equilibrium temperatures T are allowed for a given insolation Q between 200 and 500 watts per square mater.

The exciting thing is that when \gamma gets big enough, three different temperatures are compatible with the same amount of insolation! This means the Earth can be hot, cold or something intermediate even when the amount of sunlight hitting it is fixed. The intermediate state is unstable, it turns out—we’ll see why later. Only the hot and cold states are stable. So, we say the Earth is bistable in this simplified model.

Can you see how big \gamma needs to be for this bistability to kick in? It’s certainly there when \gamma = 0.05, since then we get a graph like this:

When the insolation is less than about 385 W/m2 there’s only a cold state. When it hits 385 W/m2, as shown by the green line, suddenly there are two possible temperatures: a cold one and a much hotter one. When the insolation is higher, as shown by the black line, there are three possible temperatures: a cold one, and unstable intermediate one, and a hot one. And when the insolation gets above 465 W/m2, as shown by the red line, there’s only a hot state!

Mathematically, this model illustrates catastrophe theory. As we slowly turn up \gamma, we get different curves showing how temperature is a function of insolation… until suddenly the curve isn’t the graph of a function anymore: it becomes infinitely steep at one point! After that, we get bistability:


\gamma = 0.00

\gamma = 0.01

\gamma = 0.02

\gamma = 0.03

\gamma = 0.04

\gamma = 0.05

This is called a cusp catastrophe, and you can visualize these curves as slices of a surface in 3d, which looks roughly like this picture:



from here:

• Wolfram Mathworld, Cusp catastrophe. (Includes Mathematica package.)

The cusp catastrophe is ‘structurally stable’, meaning that small perturbations don’t change its qualitative behavior. In other words, whenever you have a smooth graph of a function that gets steeper and steeper until it ‘overhangs’ and ceases to be the graph of a function, it looks like this cusp catastrophe. This statement is quite vague as I’ve just said it— but it’s made 100% precise in catastrophe theory.

Structural stability is a useful concept, because it focuses our attention on robust features of models: features that don’t go away if the model is slightly wrong, as it always is.

There are lots more things to say, but the most urgent question to answer is this: why is the intermediate state unstable when it exists? Why are the other two equilibria stable? We’ll talk about that next time!


Network Theory (Part 25)

3 November, 2012

In parts 2-24 of this network theory series, we’ve been talking about Petri nets and reaction networks. These parts are now getting turned into a book. You can see a draft here:

• John Baez and Jacob Biamonte, A course on quantum techniques for stochastic mechanics.

There’s a lot more to network theory than this. But before I dive into the next big topic, I want to mention a few more odds and ends about Petri nets and reaction networks. For example, their connection to logic and computation!

As we’ve seen, a stochastic Petri net can be used to describe a bunch of chemical reactions with certain reaction rates. We could try to use these reactions to build a ‘chemical computer’. But how powerful can such a computer be?

I don’t know the answer. But before people got interested in stochastic Petri nets, computer scientists spent quite some time studying plain old Petri nets, which don’t include the information about reaction rates. They used these as simple models of computation. And since computer scientists like to know which questions are decidable by means of an algorithm and which aren’t, they proved some interesting theorems about decidability for Petri nets.

Let me talk about: ‘reachability’: the question of which collections of molecules can turn into which other collections, given a fixed set of chemical reactions. For example, suppose you have these chemical reactions:

C + O2 → CO2

CO2 + NaOH → NaHCO3

NaHCO3 + HCl → H2O + NaCl + CO2

Can you use these to turn

C + O2 + NaOH + HCl

into

CO2 + H2O + NaCl ?

It’s not too hard to settle this particular question—we’ll do it soon. But settling all possible such questions turns out to be very hard

Reachability

Remember:

Definition. A Petri net consists of a set S of species and a set T of transitions, together with a function

i : S \times T \to \mathbb{N}

saying how many copies of each state shows up as input for each transition, and a function

o: S \times T \to \mathbb{N}

saying how many times it shows up as output.

Today we’ll assume both S and T are finite.

Jacob and I like to draw the species as yellow circles and the transitions as aqua boxes, in a charmingly garish color scheme chosen by Dave Tweed. So, the chemical reactions I mentioned before:

C + O2 → CO2

CO2 + NaOH → NaHCO3

NaHCO3 + HCl → H2O + NaCl + CO2

give this Petri net:

A ‘complex’ is, roughly, a way of putting dots in the yellow circles. In chemistry this says how many molecules we have of each kind. Here’s an example:

This complex happens to have just zero or one dot in each circle, but that’s not required: we could have any number of dots in each circle. So, mathematically, a complex is a finite linear combination of species, with natural numbers as coefficients. In other words, it’s an element of \mathbb{N}^S. In this particular example it’s

C + O2 + NaOH + HCl

Given two complexes, we say one is reachable from another if, loosely speaking, we can get to it from the other by a finite sequence of transitions. For example, earlier on I asked if we can get from the complex I just mentioned to the complex

CO2 + H2O + NaCl

which we can draw like this:

And the answer is yes, we can do it with this sequence of transitions:

 

 

 

This settles the question I asked earlier.

So in chemistry, reachability is all about whether it’s possible to use certain chemical reactions to turn one collection of molecules into another using a certain set of reactions. I hope this is clear enough; I could formalize it further but it seems unnecessary. If you have questions, ask me or read this:

Petri net: execution semantics, Wikipedia.

The reachability problem

Now the reachability problem asks: given a Petri net and two complexes, is one reachable from the other?

If the answer is ‘yes’, of course you can show that by an exhaustive search of all possibilities. But if the answer is ‘no’, how can you be sure? It’s not obvious, in general. Back in the 1970’s, computer scientists felt this problem should be decidable by some algorithm… but they had a lot of trouble finding such an algorithm.

In 1976, Richard J. Lipton showed that if such an algorithm existed, it would need to take at least an exponential amount of memory space and an exponential amount of time to run:

• Richard J. Lipton, The reachability problem requires exponential space, Technical Report 62, Yale University, 1976.

This means that most computer scientists would consider any algorithm to solve the reachability problem ‘infeasible’, since they like polynomial time algorithms.

On the bright side, it means that Petri nets might be fairly powerful when viewed as computers themselves! After all, for a universal Turing machine, the analogue of the reachability problem is undecidable. So if the reachability problem for Petri nets were decidable, they couldn’t be universal computers. But if it were decidable but hard, Petri nets might be fairly powerful—though still not universal—computers.

In 1977, at the ACM Symposium on the Theory of Computing, two researchers presented a proof that reachability problem was decidable:

• S. Sacerdote and R. Tenney, The decidability of the reachability problem for vector addition systems, Conference Record of the Ninth Annual ACM Symposium on Theory of Computing, 2-4 May 1977, Boulder, Colorado, USA, ACM, 1977, pp. 61–76.

However, it turned out to be flawed! I read about this episode here:

• James L. Peterson, Petri Net Theory and the Modeling of Systems, Prentice–Hall, New Jersey, 1981.

This is a very nice introduction to early work on Petri nets and decidability. Peterson had an interesting idea, too:

There would seem to be a very useful connection between Petri nets and Presburger arithmetic.

He gave some evidence, and suggested using this to settle the decidability of the reachability problem. I found that intriguing! Let me explain why.

Presburger arithmetic is a simple set of axioms for the arithmetic of natural numbers, much weaker than Peano arithmetic or even Robinson arithmetic. Unlike those other systems, Presburger arithmetic doesn’t mention multiplication. And unlike those other systems, you can write an algorithm that decides whether any given statement in Presburger arithmetic is provable.

However, any such algorithm must be very slow! In 1974, Fischer and Rabin showed that any decision algorithm for Presburger arithmetic has a worst-case runtime of at least

2^{2^{c n}}

for some constant c, where n is the length of the statement. So we say the complexity is at least doubly exponential. That’s much worse than exponential! On the other hand, an algorithm with a triply exponential run time was found by Oppen in 1978.

I hope you see why this is intriguing. Provability is a lot like reachability, since in a proof you’re trying to reach the conclusion starting from the assumptions using certain rules. Like Presburger arithmetic, Petri nets are all about addition, since they consists of transitions going between linear combinations like this:

6 CO2 + 6 H2O → C6H12O6 + 6 O2

That’s why the old literature calls Petri nets vector addition systems. And finally, the difficulty of deciding provability in Presburger arithmetic smells a bit like the difficulty of deciding reachability in Petri nets.

So, I was eager to learn what happened after Peterson wrote his book.

For starters, in 1981, the very year Peterson’s book came out, Ernst Mayr showed that the reachability problem for Petri nets is decidable:

• Ernst Mayr, Persistence of vector replacement systems is decidable, Acta Informatica 15 (1981), 309–318.

As you can see from the title, Mayr actually proved some other property was decidable. However, it follows that reachability is decidable, and Mayr pointed this out in his paper. In fact the decidability of reachability for Petri nets is equivalent to lots of other interesting questions. You can see a bunch here:

• Javier Esparza and Mogens Nielsen, Decidability issues for Petri nets—a survey, Bulletin of the European Association for Theoretical Computer Science 52 (1994), 245–262.

Mayr’s algorithm was complicated. Worse still, it seems to take a hugely long time to run. It seems nobody knows an explicit bound on its runtime. The runtim might even grow faster than any primitive recursive function. The Ackermann function and the closely related Ackermann numbers are famous examples of functions that grow more rapidly than any primitive recursive function. If you don’t know about these, now is the time to learn!

Remember that we can define multiplication by iterating addition:

n \times m = n + n + n + \cdots + n

where add n to itself m times. Then we can define exponentiation by iterating multiplication:

n \uparrow m = n \times n \times n \times \cdots \times n

where we multiply n by itself m times. Here I’m using Knuth’s up-arrow notation. Then we can define tetration by iterating exponentiation:

n \uparrow^2 m = n \uparrow (n \uparrow (n \uparrow \cdots \uparrow n)))

Then we can define an operation \uparrow^3 by iterating tetration, and so on. All these functions are primitive recursive. But the nth Ackermann number is not; it’s defined to be

n \uparrow^n n

This grows at an insanely rapid rate:

1 \uparrow 1 = 1

2 \uparrow^2 2 = 4

3 \uparrow^3 3 = 3^{3^{3^{.^{.^{.}}}}}

where we have a stack of 3^{3^3} threes—or in other words, 3^{7625597484987} threes! When we get to 4 \uparrow^4 4, my mind boggles. I wish it didn’t, but it does.

In 1998 someone came up with a faster algorithm:

• Zakaria Bouziane, A primitive recursive algorithm for the general Petri net reachability problem, in 39th Annual Symposium on Foundations of Computer Science, IEEE, 1998, pp. 130-136.

Bouziane claimed this algorithm is doubly exponential in space and time. That’s very slow, but not insanely slow.

However, it seems that Bouziane made a mistake:

• Petr Jančar, Bouziane’s transformation of the Petri net reachability problem and incorrectness of the related algorithm, Information and Computation, 206 (2008), 1259–1263.

So: if I tell you some chemicals and a bunch of reactions involving these chemicals, you can decide when some combination of these chemicals can turn into another combination. But it may take a long time to decide this. And we don’t know exactly how long: just more than ‘exponentially long’!

What about the connection to Presburger arithmetic? This title suggests that it exists:

• Jérôme Leroux, The general vector addition system reachability problem by Presburger inductive separators, 2008.

But I don’t understand the paper well enough to be sure. Can someone say more?

Also, does anyone know more about the computational power of Petri nets? They’re not universal computers, but is there a good way to say how powerful they are? Does the fact that it takes a long time to settle the reachability question really imply that they have a lot of computational power?

Symmetric monoidal categories

Next let me explain the secret reason I’m so fascinated by this. This section is mainly for people who like category theory.

As I mentioned once before, a Petri net is actually nothing but a presentation of a symmetric monoidal category that’s free on some set of objects and some set of morphisms going between tensor products of those objects:

Vladimiro Sassone, On the category of Petri net computations, 6th International Conference on Theory and Practice of Software Development, Proceedings of TAPSOFT ’95, Lecture Notes in Computer Science 915, Springer, Berlin, pp. 334-348.

In chemistry we write the tensor product additively, but we could also write it as \otimes. Then the reachability problem consists of questions of this general type:

Suppose we have a symmetric monoidal category freely generated by objects A, B, C and morphisms

e: A \to B \otimes C

f: A \otimes A \otimes B \to A \otimes C

g: A \otimes B \otimes C \to A \otimes B \otimes B

h : B \otimes A \otimes A \to B

Is there a morphism from B \otimes A \otimes A to A \otimes A?

This is reminiscent of the word problem for groups and other problems where we are given a presentation of an algebraic structure and have to decide if two elements are equal… but now, instead of asking whether two elements are equal we are asking if there is a morphism from one object to another. So, it is fascinating that this problem is decidable—unlike the word problem for groups—but still very hard to decide.

Just in case you want to see a more formal statement, let me finish off by giving you that:

Reachability problem. Given a symmetric monoidal category C freely generated by a finite set of objects and a finite set of morphisms between tensor products of these objects, and given two objects x,y \in C, is there a morphism f: x \to y?

Theorem (Lipton, Mayr). There is an algorithm that decides the reachability problem. However, for any such algorithm, for any c > 0, the worst-case run-time exceeds 2^{c n} where n is the size of the problem: the sum of the number of generating objects, the number of factors in the sources and targets of all the generating morphisms, and the number of factors in the objects x,y \in C for which the reachability problem is posed.


The Mathematics of Planet Earth

31 October, 2012

Here’s a public lecture I gave yesterday, via videoconferencing, at the 55th annual meeting of the South African Mathematical Society:

Abstract: The International Mathematical Union has declared 2013 to be the year of The Mathematics of Planet Earth. The global warming crisis is part of a bigger transformation in which humanity realizes that the Earth is a finite system and that our population, energy usage, and the like cannot continue to grow exponentially. If civilization survives this transformation, it will affect mathematics—and be affected by it—just as dramatically as the agricultural revolution or industrial revolution. We cannot know for sure what the effect will be, but we can already make some guesses.

To watch the talk, click on the video above. To see slides of the talk, click here. To see the source of any piece of information in these slides, just click on it!

My host Bruce Bartlett, an expert on topological quantum field theory, was crucial in planning the event. He was the one who edited the video, and put it on YouTube. He also made this cute poster:



I was planning to fly there using my superpowers to avoid taking a plane and burning a ton of carbon. But it was early in the morning and I was feeling a bit tired, so I used Skype.

By the way: if you’re interested in science, energy and the environment, check out the Azimuth Project, which is a collaboration to create a focal point for scientists and engineers interested in saving the planet. We’ve got some interesting projects going. If you join the Azimuth Forum, you can talk to us, learn more, and help out as much or as little as you want. The only hard part about joining the Azimuth Forum is reading the instructions well enough that you choose your whole real name, with spaces between words, as your username.


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