porto sentido

In a complete change of direction, this one goes out to a rant.

The financial situation for Astronomy in the UK has been dire for a couple of years. The whole story is complicated, and probably only fully understood by a small number of people (I can’t help thinking this is partly where the problem lies). The outcome is, however, rather clear.

The funding to Astronomy research, both to specific projects and grants that fund studentships and fellowships, has been slashed beyond the point of no return. Last week STFC announced the results of a prioritisation exercise and revealed 25-35% cuts in grants, plus the scrappage of many a good important and relevant projects. The result is a handicapped academic industry, which will now see their best either turning someplace else, or abandoning Astronomy altogether. Today, SFTC announced the cancellation of the 2010 round of Postdoctoral Fellowships – the most important fellowship scheme for young Astronomers in the UK – and quite frankly it seems with it to have stricken the final blow.

This is not a post with intelligent and unbiased criticism. Rather, it’s the outpour of a young postdoc who is seeing their career and the science of their heart being merciless attacked by a bunch of incompetent, unfortunate and opaque decisions. I can’t image it was an easy decision to anyone involved, but I’m not here to play devil’s advocate tonight. I’m here because I’m angry.

I’ve seen the best of what Astronomy can do. I’ve met so many talented young scientists and I’ve seen them share their science with amazed and awed audiences who invariably leave the room culturally richer and more aware. I’ve seen young ones being turned on to science via Astronomy, and I’ve been thanked by old ones for making them feel like they know the world around them a little bit better. I don’t give a toss about economical benefits – I don’t have to, they’re self-evident even. The idea that in a recession money is taken away from science is so incomprehensible that I can’t quite get my head around it. But I do care, and passionately so, about the cultural enrichment that science represents. I care that fundamental research is important in its own right and that it matters to people. That I’m fortunate enough to live in a country that has thus far excelled in expanding the limits of human knowledge and encouraged the dissemination of such knowledge. I care that I have the chance to dedicate my working years to the most exciting journey of all, and to learn every single working day of my life.

It’s not just the young Astronomer who’s missing out here. It’s everyone who doesn’t want to live in a world where decisions are made only based on economic returns. Science misses out too, but above all it’s you that gets the short deal. It’s everyone who has ever learned something new about the natural world and appreciated it for what it was – the sheer excitement of learning, understanding, seeing beauty by way of explanations.

Of course, I’m missing out too. Because now being a professional Astronomer in this country is set to being a constant battle and one which I may or may not be prepared to fight. There are, after all, other ways to learn. But none quite as thrilling as being up there in the heat of the moment… nor none quite as rewarding.

I created this place months ago now, and I created it out of what at the time felt like necessity. I didn’t come back for a long while though, and as I remembered today that this existed I felt that same need again. It’s odd, and it may not make sense to create a need just to then have the pleasure of satisfying it.. but. well.

It’s not entirely clear what I have to say, only that I need to say it. And you shouldn’t feel like I write for your benefit – you may be disappointed.

I’m occasionally reminded of my ability to feel overwhelming nostalgia. Saudade, as it were. Recently, it’s been like Christmas in rita’s nostalgia land. Pearl Jam have come back to me from the depths of my teens, stronger than ever. They’d never really left but they were a pale version of themselves (in me, note) for the last 4 or 5 years, and I’d miss them, and I miss 1996. I even miss Philly and that only happened a week ago.

And then I miss my Porto. I’ve been missing that for a while, which you can guess from the title of this blog. I miss it to the bone. But it’s no longer home. I came to see this as I was driven by the unique Douro vale yesterday. It’s familiar, and it warms my heart, and I could not bare a life where I couldn’t come back to it at will and drink it desperately with my eyes. But it’s no longer home.

I tell you what else I miss. I miss Scotland, and I miss Edinburgh. I want the hills, the whisky, the ceilidhs, the haggis and the friends. And that, is home. I didn’t see it coming, not really. I don’t mean home in a sense of attachment, I mean home in a sense of identity. I am those hills more than I am those vineyards – I most definitely did not see that one coming.

I’m also reminded that things only happen once, and that’s the sad warmth that comes with saudade. It’ll never be 24th or 25th of November 1996 again, nor will I stay up all night in Ribeira for the first time again, nor will I ever again climb down from a Munro not having done it before. And that’s OK. Some pleasures are repeatable, and infinitely needed and comforting every single time. But let us dedicate this space, or at least part it, to those other ones. And to new ones, shared with the people we love today and with the absolute certainty that if something is not going to cause deep, warm and almost painful nostalgia tomorrow it’s not worth writing about today.