That's the argument made by computer scientists M.P.Sivaram Kumar and S. Rajasekaran in a recent article in the Journal of Computing entitled "Path Planning Algorithm for Extinguishing
Forest Fires." Their thesis is simple: the vast majority of forests are destroyed by wild forest fires, and current methods of sylvan vigilance -- mainly those involved individual personnel on foot patrol -- are grossly inefficient in identifying emerging threats. Their pre-defined route may be damaged or obscured, inclement weather affects visibility, and life on patrol is boring and "miserable," leading to a lack of attention.
Kumar and Rajasekaran argue that deploying robotic systems throughout wooded areas will increase firefighters' ability not just to identify emerging threats, but also to more effectively plot the path of a wildfire, and then deploy the appropriate resources to the right places. The two imagine a grid-based system of automated drones, designed to detect abnormal changes in temperature and relay data back to a command center:
The automatic forest fire detection and extinguishing system consists of
nodes deployed deterministically in a forest area and all
the nodes know their location based on coordinate values
of a matrix. Each node is equipped with a temperature
sensor and an Omni directional antenna. Nodes continuously monitor the environment to check if there is fire or
not in the particular cell. When change in temperature i.e.
temperature raises above a certain threshold, is detected
by a particular node they send message packets which
contain location measurements. These packets are received by one of the corner node. The corner node then
sends the packet to the Actor which in turn will process
the packet which can be used in reaching the target area
to extinguish fire.
On-the-ground nodes, they argue, are significantly better than the preexisting satellite detection systems that, due to a long scan period and low resolution of images, end up detecting fires relatively late. Relying on satellites often means that firefighting personnel deploy more resources in their firefighting than would otherwise be necessary.
There are obvious environmental concerns to stringing a sprawling forest with robotic nodes. Introducing any man-made object, even stationary a drone, can have unintended consequences on a complex arboreal ecosystem. Unexpected costs -- a tree falling in the woods, surprise visits from assorted large mammals -- could make deploying and maintaining a robotic grids prohibitively expensive.
But among the significant additional benefits: potentially saving lives. Wireless Emergency Alerts (WEA), a system developed by FEMA, the FCC, and wireless carriers, will soon be deployed in emergency situations like severe weather to notify citizens of imminent threats to their safety. Within the next few weeks, nearly everyone in the country with a mobile phone could start receiving text messages from the National Weather Service, local law enforcement, or perhaps even the President. Here's how it works:
In the event of an emergency, an authorized alerting agency can select a cell tower (or towers) to broadcast a WEA. In order to receive the message, a person must be within range of the cell-tower broadcast, and must have a phone capable of "hearing" the the broadcast. Most cellular devices manufactured after mid-2011 already have this capability.
It is through the use of CB technology that CMAS is able to provide some geographic targeting without the need for opting-in. However, it is important to note that because WEAs are "broadcast" from towers, the geo-targeting feature is not as precise as GPS. GPS is a two-way street of communication between a GPS-equipped device and various positioning satellites. WEAs are not two-way...it is simply a modern day "shout" to give a heads-up that something requires your attention.
According to the National Fire Protection Association, only 11 people were killed in wildfire-related incidents in 2011. But application of the sensor technology to, say, rivers with a high likelihood of flooding, earthquake-prone regions, and other unstable natural centers could give first responders a useful heads-up. When tied in with FEMA's new WEA system, average citizens could have enough advance warning of danger to protect themselves in the event of a natural disaster. And in the event of a fast-moving fire or flood, a few extra minutes could mean the difference between life and death.
The Islamic State is no mere collection of psychopaths. It is a religious group with carefully considered beliefs, among them that it is a key agent of the coming apocalypse. Here’s what that means for its strategy—and for how to stop it.
What is the Islamic State?
Where did it come from, and what are its intentions? The simplicity of these questions can be deceiving, and few Western leaders seem to know the answers. In December, The New York Times published confidential comments by Major General Michael K. Nagata, the Special Operations commander for the United States in the Middle East, admitting that he had hardly begun figuring out the Islamic State’s appeal. “We have not defeated the idea,” he said. “We do not even understand the idea.” In the past year, President Obama has referred to the Islamic State, variously, as “not Islamic” and as al-Qaeda’s “jayvee team,” statements that reflected confusion about the group, and may have contributed to significant strategic errors.
Places like St. Louis and New York City were once similarly prosperous. Then, 30 years ago, the United States turned its back on the policies that had been encouraging parity.
Despite all the attention focused these days on the fortunes of the “1 percent,” debates over inequality still tend to ignore one of its most politically destabilizing and economically destructive forms. This is the growing, and historically unprecedented, economic divide that has emerged in recent decades among the different regions of the United States.
Until the early 1980s, a long-running feature of American history was the gradual convergence of income across regions. The trend goes back to at least the 1840s, but grew particularly strong during the middle decades of the 20th century. This was, in part, a result of the South catching up with the North in its economic development. As late as 1940, per-capita income in Mississippi, for example, was still less than one-quarter that of Connecticut. Over the next 40 years, Mississippians saw their incomes rise much faster than did residents of Connecticut, until by 1980 the gap in income had shrunk to 58 percent.
Live in anticipation, gathering stories and memories. New research builds on the vogue mantra of behavioral economics.
Forty-seven percent of the time, the average mind is wandering. It wanders about a third of the time while a person is reading, talking with other people, or taking care of children. It wanders 10 percent of the time, even, during sex. And that wandering, according to psychologist Matthew Killingsworth, is not good for well-being. A mind belongs in one place. During his training at Harvard, Killingsworth compiled those numbers and built a scientific case for every cliché about living in the moment. In a 2010 Science paper co-authored with psychology professor Daniel Gilbert, the two wrote that "a wandering mind is an unhappy mind."
For Killingsworth, happiness is in the content of moment-to-moment experiences. Nothing material is intrinsically valuable, except in whatever promise of happiness it carries. Satisfaction in owning a thing does not have to come during the moment it's acquired, of course. It can come as anticipation or nostalgic longing. Overall, though, the achievement of the human brain to contemplate events past and future at great, tedious length has, these psychologists believe, come at the expense of happiness. Minds tend to wander to dark, not whimsical, places. Unless that mind has something exciting to anticipate or sweet to remember.
As the public’s fear and loathing surge, the frontrunner’s durable candidacy has taken a dark turn.
MYRTLE BEACH, South Carolina—All politicians, if they are any good at their craft, know the truth about human nature.
Donald Trump is very good, and he knows it better than most.
Trump stands alone on a long platform, surrounded by a rapturous throng. Below and behind him—sitting on bleachers and standing on the floor—they fill this city’s cavernous, yellow-beige convention center by the thousands. As Trump will shortly point out, there are a lot of other Republican presidential candidates, but none of them get crowds anything like this.
Trump raises an orange-pink hand like a waiter holding a tray. “They are not coming in from Syria,” he says. “We’re sending them back!” The crowd surges, whistles, cheers. “So many bad things are happening—they have sections of Paris where the police are afraid to go,” he continues. “Look at Belgium, the whole place is closed down! We can’t let it happen here, folks.”
Why are so many kids with bright prospects killing themselves in Palo Alto?
The air shrieks, and life stops. First, from far away, comes a high whine like angry insects swarming, and then a trampling, like a herd moving through. The kids on their bikes who pass by the Caltrain crossing are eager to get home from school, but they know the drill. Brake. Wait for the train to pass. Five cars, double-decker, tearing past at 50 miles an hour. Too fast to see the faces of the Silicon Valley commuters on board, only a long silver thing with black teeth. A Caltrain coming into a station slows, invites you in. But a Caltrain at a crossing registers more like an ambulance, warning you fiercely out of its way.
The kids wait until the passing train forces a gust you can feel on your skin. The alarms ring and the red lights flash for a few seconds more, just in case. Then the gate lifts up, signaling that it’s safe to cross. All at once life revives: a rush of bikes, skateboards, helmets, backpacks, basketball shorts, boisterous conversation. “Ew, how old is that gum?” “The quiz is next week, dipshit.” On the road, a minivan makes a left a little too fast—nothing ominous, just a mom late for pickup. The air is again still, like it usually is in spring in Palo Alto. A woodpecker does its work nearby. A bee goes in search of jasmine, stinging no one.
The ubiquitous estimates are designed to give the illusion of a holiday-shopping frenzy.
Every year, shortly after Black Friday, the National Retail Federation issues its estimate of all the retail spending over the first weekend of the holiday season. And every year, media outlets repeat that estimate in earnest: Last year, citing NRF data, The New YorkTimesran the headline “Black Friday Fatigue? Thanksgiving Weekend Sales Slide 11 Percent.” The Wall Street Journalwent with “‘Black Friday’ Fades as Weekend Retail Sales Sink.” Such headlines are often taken as indicators of holiday sales in general, and even consumers’ confidence in the economy.
But there’s another, much less visible, component of this annual tradition: Every year, a man named Barry Ritholtz, an asset manager and contributor to The Washington Post and Bloomberg View, complains about the quality of the NRF’s data and the media’s mindless repetition of it. In last year’s installment of his ongoing rant, he wrote, “I have become a curmudgeon on this.”
A Chicago cop now faces murder charges—but will anyone hold his colleagues, his superiors, and elected officials accountable for their failures?
Thanks to clear video evidence, Chicago police officer Jason Van Dyke was charged this week with first-degree murder for shooting 17-year-old Laquan McDonald. Nevertheless, thousands of people took to the city’s streets on Friday in protest. And that is as it should be.
The needlessness of the killing is clear and unambiguous:
Yet that dash-cam footage was suppressed for more than a year by authorities citing an investigation. “There was no mystery, no dead-end leads to pursue, no ambiguity about who fired the shots,” Eric Zorn wrote in The Chicago Tribune. “Who was pursuing justice and the truth? What were they doing? Who were they talking to? With whom were they meeting? What were they trying to figure out for 400 days?”
Adults remember more of what they learned in school than they think they do—thanks to an aspect of education that doesn’t get much attention in policy debates.
I recently found a box of papers from high school and was shocked to see what I once knew. There, in my handwriting, was a multi-step geometric proof, a creditable essay on the United States’ involvement in the Philippine revolution, and other work that today is as incomprehensible to me as a Swedish newscast.
Chances are this is a common experience among adults like me who haven’t stepped foot in the classroom for ages—which might suggest there wasn’t much point in learning the stuff in the first place. But then again, maybe there is.
Research shows that people can often retain certain information long after they learned it in school. For example, in one 1998 study, 1,168 adults took an exam in developmental psychology, similar to the final exam they had taken for a college course between three and 16 years earlier. Yes, much had been forgotten, especially within the first three years of taking the course—but not everything. The study found that even after 16 years, participants had retained some knowledge from the college course, particularly facts (versus the application of mental skills). Psychologists in another psychology study, this one published in 1991, examined memory for high-school math content and had similar results.
America loves its freeways. After the 1956 Federal Highway Bill created the pathway for a41,000 mile interstate highway system, states and cities jockeyed for the funding to build ever-more extensive networks of pavement that could carry Americans quickly between cities. Sometimes, they built these highways right in the middle of cities, displacing communities and razing old buildings and homes.
“This was a program which the twenty-first century will almost certainly judge to have had more influence on the shape and development of American cities, the distribution of population within metropolitan areas and across the nation as a whole, the location of industry and various kinds of employment opportunities,”Daniel Moynihan wrote in 1970 about the federal program that built these thousands of miles of highways.
The disturbing implications of a long-standing expectation
NPR reporter Shereen Marisol Meraji recently dropped in on a professional-etiquette class for teens to see what they made of traditional chivalry. “I can open my own door. I don’t see the point,” 18-year-old Chiamaka Njokutold her. “Most of these doors are automatic anyway.”
But the young woman took a less progressive stance on the topic of money: “If a man wants to pay for the whole meal, I would not stop him,” she said. Why, as other sexist institutions gradually dissolve, does this one stubbornly hang on?
A survey released yesterday morning found that about 77 percent of people in straight relationships believe men should pay the bill on a first date. The survey, put together by the financial website NerdWallet, polled roughly 1,000 people who had been dating their partners for six months or more.