Meteorite impacts leave behind time-capsules of ecosystems

Glass beads that form inside hot meteors as they fall to Earth capture particles from the atmosphere, creating a kind of permanent record of historic climates.

Meteorite impacts can be very destructive. One that fell in Mexico around 66m years ago created a 180km crater and caused the extinction of dinosaurs while spewing debris and molten rock into the air. Now, in what is a fascinating tale of serendipity, researchers have found that these events don’t entirely destroy all traces of life at the site of impact. Molten rocks can capture and preserve organic matter as they cool down to form glass beads.

When a meteor enters Earth’s atmosphere, the air around the meteor gets very quickly compressed causing it to heat up, scorching everything in its path. Most of the time that is where the story ends, as the meteor burns up in the sky as a “shooting star”. But sometimes it is big enough to reach all the way to the surface and transfer its remaining energy to the ground.

This energy is dissipated, as mild earthquakes, sound shockwaves – but mostly as heat. The heat energy can be so great that it melts rocks on the surface and hurls them up in the atmosphere. Anything that comes in contact with this molten rock would presumably get burnt, leaving nothing but rocky material that cools down in the atmosphere, forming glass beads and tektites (gravel-sized natural glass). This is what City University of New York researcher Kieren Howard assumed, but he was able to show that his assumptions were wrong.

For his PhD, Howard was studying the glass beads and tektites found near the Darwin crater in Tasmania. The 1.2km wide crater was created by a meteorite impact about 800,000 years ago.

The natural glass formed during cooling is (as implied by the term glass) not crystalline. Instead of a regular arrangement of atoms, the atoms inside it are randomly arranged. Howard’s analysis, however, kept showing the presence of crystals. At first, he dismissed this as a problem with the machine or with his method of analysis. But when it kept showing up, as a good scientist, he thought he should ask an expert to look at his data.

“This is unusual,” says Chris Jeynes, a physicist at the University of Surrey. “If there were indeed crystals, then it was the result of uneven cooling, which can occur when something gets trapped inside these glass beads.”

Jeynes used proton-beam analysis, a method to peer inside the glass to reveal its elemental make-up. Inside he found carbon. “Howard had no idea what his samples were, and he was very surprised when I told him,” Jeynes says.

The natural glass formed should contain only silicon, titanium, oxygen and other metallic elements in trace amounts. Detection of carbon meant that there was some organic matter inside. The only hypothesis was that, somehow during the formation of these glass beads, they captured organic matter that was floating in the atmosphere. That organic matter might have already been in the air, but it might also include material thrown up by the impact.

Howard then went to another expert to break open these glass beads and reveal what the carbon-rich matter was. It turned out that it included were cellulose, lignin and other biopolymers. This meant that somehow this matter, which originated from plants, had survived the temperature of more than 500°C, which is what the molten rock would have reached before cooling into a glass bead. Usually these temperatures will break down the organic matter, but clearly it didn’t in this case.

Mark Sephton, a geochemist at Imperial College London, was surprised and pleased: “What the results show is that these glass beads can capture an aliquot of the atmosphere of the planet at impact. It is like a time capsule of that ecosystem.” These results are published in Nature Geoscience.

The implications are enormous. It shows that other meteorite impacts, like the one that wiped out the dinosaurs, could have created such time capsules too. Sephton is now working on finding glass beads from other impact sites to reveal information about Earth’s ancient atmosphere.

This method of analysis means that we could also go looking for similar beads on other planets, like Mars, where meteorite impacts are common. They could also reveal vital information about the past atmosphere of those planets. Maybe they captured organic matter – if it ever existed there.

“We would not know any of this if it wasn’t for Howard,” Jeynes says, adding that Howard’s persistence to find out what “the wrong results” led the researchers to a phenomenon that nobody knew existed.

This article was originally published at The Conversation. Read the original article.

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Meteor Crater in Arizona. (Photo: Angle Schatz/Flickr)
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Don’t shoot the messenger: are social media giants really “consciously failing” to tackle extremism?

MPs today accused social media companies of failing to combat terrorism, but just how accurate is this claim? 

Today’s home affairs committee report, which said that internet giants such as Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube are “consciously failing” to combat extremism, was criticised by terrorism experts almost immediately.

“Blaming Facebook, Google or Twitter for this phenomenon is quite simplistic, and I'd even say misleading,” Professor Peter Neumann, an expert on radicalisation from Kings College London, told the BBC.

“Social media companies are doing a lot more now than they used to - no doubt because of public pressure,” he went on. The report, however, labels the 14 million videos Google have removed in the last two years, and the 125,000 accounts Twitter has suspended in the last one, a “drop in the ocean”.

It didn’t take long for the sites involved to refute the claims, which follow a 12-month inquiry on radicalisation. A Facebook spokesperson said they deal “swiftly and robustly with reports of terrorism-related content”, whilst YouTube said they take their role in combating the spread of extremism “very seriously”. This time last week, Twitter announced that they’d suspended 235,000 accounts for promoting terrorism in the last six months, which is incidentally after the committee stopped counting in February.

When it comes to numbers, it’s difficult to determine what is and isn’t enough. There is no magical number of Terrorists On The Internet that experts can compare the number of deletions to. But it’s also important to judge the companies’ efforts within the realm of what is actually possible.

“The argument is that because Facebook and Twitter are very good at taking down copyright claims they should be better at tackling extremism,” says Jamie Bartlett, Director of the Centre for the Analysis of Social Media at Demos.

“But in those cases you are given a hashed file by the copyright holder and they say: ‘Find this file on your database and remove it please’. This is very different from extremism. You’re talking about complicated nuanced linguistic patterns each of which are usually unique, and are very hard for an algorithm to determine.”

Bartlett explains that a large team of people would have to work on building this algorithm by trawling through cases of extremist language, which, as Thangam Debonnaire learned this month, even humans can struggle to identify.  

“The problem is when you’re dealing with linguistic patterns even the best algorithms work at 70 per cent accuracy. You’d have so many false positives, and you’d end up needing to have another huge team of people that would be checking all of it. It’s such a much harder task than people think.”

Finding and deleting terrorist content is also only half of the battle. When it comes to videos and images, thousands of people could have downloaded them before they were deleted. During his research, Bartlett has also discovered that when one extremist account is deleted, another inevitably pops up in its place.

“Censorship is close to impossible,” he wrote in a Medium post in February. “I’ve been taking a look at how ISIL are using Twitter. I found one user name, @xcxcx162, who had no less than twenty-one versions of his name, all lined up and ready to use (@xcxcx1627; @xcxcx1628, @xcxcx1629, and so on).”

Beneath all this, there might be another, fundamental flaw in the report’s assumptions. Demos argue that there is no firm evidence that online material actually radicalises people, and that much of the material extremists view and share is often from mainstream news outlets.

But even if total censorship was possible, that doesn’t necessarily make it desirable. Bartlett argues that deleting extreme content would diminish our critical faculties, and that exposing people to it allows them to see for themselves that terrorists are “narcissistic, murderous, thuggish, irreligious brutes.” Complete censorship would also ruin social media for innocent people.

“All the big social media platforms operate on a very important principal, which is that they are not responsible for the content that is placed on their platforms,” he says. “It rests with the user because if they were legally responsible for everything that’s on their platform – and this is a legal ruling in the US – they would have to check every single thing before it was posted. Given that Facebook deals with billions of posts a day that would be the end of the entire social media infrastructure.

“That’s the kind of trade off we’d be talking about here. The benefits of those platforms are considerable and you’d be punishing a lot of innocent people.”

No one is denying that social media companies should do as much as they can to tackle terrorism. Bartlett thinks that platforms can do more to remove information under warrant or hand over data when the police require it, and making online policing 24/7 is an important development “because terrorists do not work 9 to 5”. At the end of the day, however, it’s important for the government to accept technological limitations.

“Censorship of the internet is only going to get harder and harder,” he says. “Our best hope is that people are critical and discerning and that is where I would like the effort to be.” 

Amelia Tait is a technology and digital culture writer at the New Statesman.