This is not a real picture of today's eclipse. Photo: A4size-ska / DeviantArt
Show Hide image

This is not a picture of today's eclipse

Don't trust everything you read.

A total eclipse was visible from the UK today, for the first time since 1999. (And the last until the next one, due in 2090.) Many, many people are currently tweeting the above picture, claiming it's a picture taken by astronauts on the International Space Station.

Even New Scientist tweeted it (though they've now deleted that), and ITV posted it as well (before also deleting the page from their site). This is because it is obviously not real. It's a 2009 illustration by a DeviantArt user called A4size-ska.

There are two things that give this away. The first is the sheer unreality of it - it looks like CGI, and the spheres of the Moon and Sun are significantly larger than they truly appear from the Earth (or near the Earth). The shadow this eclipse casts is also stretched out, rather than a neat circle.

Secondly, we know what an eclipse looks like from space. It looks like this:

Photo: CNES

That's a picture of the shadow cast by the Moon on the Earth during the 11 August 1999 solar eclipse. It was taken by the crew of the Mir space station, during one of its last few missions before it was decommissioned and allowed to burn up and fall back to Earth in 2001.

However, it's understandable that some people might have reached for something a bit spectacular, as the view of the eclipse this morning for much of us in the UK (including from the NS offices) was this:

PS: A further public service announcement is necessary, to make clear you should ignore anything Ukip MEP Roger Helmer claims about climate change and/or the Sun, today or any day:

The man's a fool.

Ian Steadman is a staff science and technology writer at the New Statesman. He is on Twitter as @iansteadman.

DebateTech
Show Hide image

Politicians: it's no longer OK to know nothing about technology

It’s bad enough to joke about not being "techy"; it's worse to back a piece of legislation from a position of ignorance. 

Earlier this week, facing down a 600-strong battalion of London’s tech sector at a mayoral hustings in Stratford, Zac Goldsmith opened his five minute pitch with his characteristic charm. “I’m not very techy!” he exclaimed. “I understand coding about as well as Swahili!”

Pointless jibe at a foreign language aside, this was an ill-chosen way to begin his address - especially considering that the rest of his speech showed he was reasonably well-briefed on the problems facing the sector, and the solutions (including improving broadband speeds and devolving skills budgets) which could help.

But the offhand reference to his own ignorance, and the implication that it would be seen as attractive by this particular audience, implies that Goldsmith, and other politicians like him, haven’t moved on since the 90s. The comment seemed designed to say: “Oh, I don't know about that - I'll leave it to the geeks like you!"

This is bad enough from a mayoral hopeful.  But on the same day, the Intelligence and Security Committee of Parliament filed its report on the Draft Investigatory Powers Bill, the legislation drafted by the Home Office which will define how and how far the government and secret services can pry into our digital communications. Throughout, there's the sense that the ISC doesn't think the department behind the bill had a firm grasp on the issues at hand. Words like "inconsistent" and "lacking in clarity" pop up again and again. In one section, the authors note:

"While the issues under consideration are undoubtedly complex, we are nevertheless concerned that thus far the Government has missed the opportunity to provide the clarity and assurance which is badly needed."

The report joins criticism from other directions, including those raised by Internet Service Providers last year, that the bill's writers didn't appear to know much about digital communications at all, much less the issues surrounding encryption of personal messages.

One good example: the bill calls for the collection of "internet connection records", the digital equivalent of phone call records, which show the domains visited by internet users but not their content. But it turns out these records don't exist in this form: the bill actually invented both the phrase and the concept. As one provider commented at the time, anyone in favour of their collection "do not understand how the Internet works". 

Politicians have a long and colourful history of taking on topics - even ministerial posts - in fields they know little to nothing about. This, in itself, is a problem. But politicians themselves are often the people extolling importance of technology, especially to the British economy - which makes their own lack of knowledge particularly grating. No politician would feel comfortable admitting a lack of knowledge, on, say, economics. I can’t imagine Goldsmith guffawing "Oh, the deficit?  That's all Greek to me!"  over dinner with Cameron. 

The mayoral candidates on stage at the DebateTech hustings this week were eager to agree that tech is London’s fastest growing industry, but could do little more than bleat the words “tech hub” with fear in their eyes that someone might ask them what exactly that meant. (A notable exception was Green candidate Sian Berry, who has actually worked for a tech start-up.) It was telling that all were particularly keen on improving internet speeds -  probably because this is something they do have day-to-day engagement with. Just don't ask them how to go about doing it.

The existence of organisations like Tech London Advocates, the industry group which co-organised the hustings, is important, and can go some way towards educating the future mayor on the issues the industry faces. But the technology and information sectors have been responsible for 30 per cent of job growth in the capital since 2009 - we can't afford to have a mayor who blanches at the mention of code. 

If we’re to believe the politicians themselves, with all their talk of coding camps and skills incubators and teaching the elderly to email, we need a political sphere where boasting that you're not "techy" isn’t cool or funny - it’s just kind of embarrassing. 

Barbara Speed is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman and a staff writer at CityMetric.