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So much for scientific publications: Nonsense paper written by iOS autocomplete accepted for conference

Elle Hunt in The Guardian


A nonsensical academic paper on nuclear physics written only by iOS autocomplete has been accepted for a scientific conference.

Christoph Bartneck, an associate professor at the Human Interface Technology laboratory at the University of Canterbury in New Zealand, received an email inviting him to submit a paper to the International Conference on Atomic and Nuclear Physics in the US in November.

“Since I have practically no knowledge of nuclear physics I resorted to iOS autocomplete function to help me writing the paper,” he wrote in a blog post on Thursday. “I started a sentence with ‘atomic’ or ‘nuclear’ and then randomly hit the autocomplete suggestions.

“The atoms of a better universe will have the right for the same as you are the way we shall have to be a great place for a great time to enjoy the day you are a wonderful person to your great time to take the fun and take a great time and enjoy the great day you will be a wonderful time for your parents and kids,” is a sample sentence from the abstract.

It concludes: “Power is not a great place for a good time.”
Bartneck illustrated the paper – titled, again through autocorrect, “Atomic Energy will have been made available to a single source” – with the first graphic on the Wikipedia entry for nuclear physics.

He submitted it under a fake identity: associate professor Iris Pear of the US, whose experience in atomic and nuclear physics was outlined in a biography using contradictory gender pronouns.

The nonsensical paper was accepted only three hours later, in an email asking Bartneck to confirm his slot for the “oral presentation” at the international conference.

“I know that iOS is a pretty good software, but reaching tenure has never been this close,” Bartneck commented in the blog post.

He did not have to pay money to submit the paper, but the acceptance letter referred him to register for the conference at a cost of US$1099 (also able to be paid in euros or pounds) as an academic speaker.

“I did not complete this step since my university would certainly object to me wasting money this way,” Bartneck told Guardian Australia. “... My impression is that this is not a particularly good conference.”

The International Conference on Atomic and Nuclear Physics will be held on 17-18 November in Atlanta, Georgia, and is organised by ConferenceSeries: “an amalgamation of Open Access Publications and worldwide international science conferences and events”, established in 2007.

An organiser has been contacted by Guardian Australia for comment.

Bartneck said that given the quality of the review process and the steep registration fee, he was “reasonably certain that this is a money-making conference with little to no commitment to science.

“I did not yet reply to their email, but I am tempted to ask them about the reviewers’ comments. That might be a funny one.”

The conference’s call for abstracts makes only a little more sense than Bartneck’s paper.

“Nuclear and sub-atomic material science it the investigation of the properties, flow and collaborations of the essential (however not major) building pieces of matter.”

A bogus research paper reading only “Get me off Your Fucking Mailing List” repeated over and over again was accepted by the International Journal of Advanced Computer Technology, an open-access academic journal, in November 2014.

Denise worked all her life. Then she got ill – and the state pulled away the safety net

Frances Ryan in The Guardian

The Conservatives like to sell the public a promise: do “the right thing” – work hard, look after your family, pay your taxes – and in tough times, the welfare state will be there for you. But here’s a snapshot of what could happen to any one of us if bad luck hit. Denise, has been a nurse for the best part of 30 years, but since she became too ill to work, she’s been left to live without sickness benefits for five months and counting.

Denise, now 48, trained as a mental health nurse straight out of school and tells me she has worked all her life. It wasn’t easy. In her mid twenties she was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, and by her thirties, as she raised a young son in Leicester, she developed fibromyalgia. With it came pain and exhaustion: each joint hurt to move, and for months she needed a wheelchair and hospital car to see a specialist. “At times, I actually crawled on my hands and knees to attempt to make us a meal,” she says.

Over the next 15 years, Denise did what many with long-term illnesses will be all too familiar with: she pushed herself to keep working – going part-time to try to manage her bipolar, pain and fatigue. When things were at their worst (in 2011, she had major surgery on her spine), she lived off the out-of-work sickness benefit, employment and support allowance.

Last winter, again, Denise tried to work. After being on ESA for almost three years, she felt well enough to move to Bristol to be near her partner and take a job nursing in a women’s secure hospital. But after eight weeks, the impact of the work on her mental health was too much (“helping pregnant women with psychiatric problems … it was very emotional,” she says) and she had to give it up. She got by on company sick pay – half her wage – for three months, but by April she was earning nothing at all.

Ask most politicians and this is exactly when they’d say the safety net would kick in. But when Denise contacted the Department for Work and Pensions to say she’d had to leave her job, she was told she was no longer eligible for out-of-sickness benefits – despite receiving them only four months earlier. Because she’d been off the benefit for more than 12 weeks, in the mire of DWP rules, technically Denise was making a “new claim”, judged on a different tax year – meaning the DWP could now rule her as not having enough national insurance points to get the benefit.

Worse, Denise was told she wasn’t eligible for the alternative either – the type of ESA based on income, rather than NI contributions. Why? Because she was now living with her boyfriend.

In another rarely publicised DWP rule, if a sick or disabled person shares a home with a partner, the fact that their partner earns a wage can be used to rule them out of sickness benefits (the income threshold varies). When I contacted the DWP, it confirmed: “Claims for ESA are assessed against a number of circumstances including living arrangements, income and national insurance contributions.”

That means that people like Denise – who the government are fully aware are too unwell to work – are effectively shut out from social security.

“I put my trust in the DWP,” Denise says. “I wouldn’t have taken a job if I’d known there wasn’t a safety net if I became ill again.”

Since April, with no sickness benefit, Denise’s only income has been her disability living allowance – which she needs to pay for the extra costs that come with bad health. As she puts it: “It’s meant to pay for taxis [to hospital], not bills and food.” But even that’s been cut now: when the government abolished DLA and transferred her to personal independence payments in May, she lost part of her benefit. Now she’s living off just £82.30 a week. “It’s horrific,” she says, and she’s becoming withdrawn and isolated.


When an employer won’t hire you and the state won’t help you, to be sick or disabled simply means having no income

Her partner has a decent wage as a transport contractor – fine for one but not easy to stretch for two – and besides, she says, it’s “awful” when he’s forced to pay for everything. “It’s not like we’re married. We don’t have a joint bank account,” she says. “I don’t like having to say, ‘can I have a money for a haircut, or for tampons?’”

As an insight into just what sick and disabled people are up against, Denise has been trying to find a nursing job this summer – one with less stress – but when she told an employer about her bipolar disorder, a medical report judged her as unfit for work and the job offer was withdrawn. She’s been “scrabbling together” information from the mental health charity Mind to know her rights, and has put in a request to see if the employer will accept changes such as shorter shifts – but if it refuses, she has no way of paying the legal fees to take it to court.

When an employer won’t hire you and the state won’t help you, to be sick or disabled in Britain simply means having no income. Denise has adapted over the years to living on very little – “because I’ve had to”, she explains – but things have never been this bad.

“For anyone to go through this when they’re already ill … just to live, you really think at times like this you’re going to be protected by the government. But you’re not.”

Cricket should discuss the bouncer more seriously

Jarrod Kimber in Cricinfo


The coroner's inquest into the death of Phillip Hughes should have been an opportunity for cricket to learn from its most public tragedy and ensure that the game was safer from now on. But because of the extreme hurt felt by the Hughes family, and the players feeling like they were on trial, what transpired did not benefit cricket or the family.

There is no doubt that the New South Wales team was trying to bounce Hughes out when he was struck fatally. There is little doubt, with some of the players involved, that harsh words would have been said.

Whether what Dougie Bollinger allegedly said was, "I am going to kill you", to Hughes or not really shouldn't matter. Bollinger is a joke figure, Australian cricket's doofus clown prince, and he is a former team-mate of Hughes'. No one in Australian cricket takes anything he says seriously. And while intent and words matter, what matters most is the ball that ultimately struck Hughes. That is the villain; that was the killer.

Hughes wasn't the last player to be subjected to a barrage of them, and that is what the inquest should have been about: how to make facing a bouncer as safe as we can make it.
There was talk in the immediate aftermath of banning the bouncer. It was an extreme reaction to an extreme situation. It was never truly taken seriously, and as the days turned into weeks after Hughes' death, they got quieter and quieter. Like many things in cricket, once the heat of the moment was gone, there was no intellectual conversation about the bouncer. We just went back to business as usual.

That was the mistake of cricket. Cricket as a business, as a sport, as a thing of love and beauty, has a responsibility to those who play it to take the bouncer conversation seriously.

Bowling is as quick as it has ever been.

Recently I've been involved in two conversations with respected cricket writers telling me bowling isn't any more rapid now than in the previous generations.

One argument was that bowling had always been fast; it had just never been properly measured before. That Fred Spofforth was quick, or Harold Larwood was quick. That explanation doesn't hold up when you think that overarm bowling only became popular in Spofforth's lifetime (even he started playing cricket as an underarm bowler). The original overarm techniques were actually side-arm, much like drunken versions of Lasith Malinga's action. So Spofforth's early tinkerings would have only been so quick.

The Larwood theory plays into the second conversation I had - about the old days, when players were amateur unlike today. These amateurs didn't worry about the next game, about resting themselves, about slowing down, and when their body felt right. They came in and bowled with all the pace they had. Part of the problem with that theory is that Larwood was a professional and played a lot of cricket. So were all the great West Indian bowlers. Many of them were overworked physically by bowling.

But really, the conversation was about the name that comes up every time people talk about fast bowling: Jeff Thomson.

Thommo was quick. Thommo would probably be quick now. And Thommo was so quick now that his balls travel through time and bowl out anyone who suggests bowlers are quicker now.

Whether it be Larwood, Trueman, Hall or Thommo, there is no doubt that bowlers from other eras have bowled quick. How quick, that is for drunken conversations with your uncle.

One man, with an incredible human catapult action, whose muscles seemed perfectly set up to hurl, might be the quickest bowler of all time. But not every bowler was like Thommo.

In the 1979 speed bowling competition, Thommo was 6kph quicker than Michael Holding in second place. That was when Holding was in his prime and Thommo had started to slow down after injuring his shoulder. Thommo's quickest was 147.9kph. He averaged 142.3kph while Holding's fastest ball was slower than that. Thommo was the only bowler clocked at over 145kph (90mph) in that test. The fastest of Len Pascoe, one of those tested, clocked more than 15kph slower than Thommo. Richard Hadlee was slower.

And while the speed gun technology seems to have evolved like fast bowling itself, this is the only guide we have.

So Thommo wasn't like every bowler out there. He towered over the others in this test. And during this same era there were many other bowlers who were playing Test cricket as seamers - Sarfraz Nawaz, who shuffled in like an old man trying to get his shopping done, Max Walker, whose action seemed to strangle his own pace, and Madan Lal, who could have out run the odd delivery in his follow-through. New Zealand had an endless supply of medium-pace.

Those bowlers barely exist anymore. Even bowlers like Tim Southee, Bhuvneshwar Kumar and Jason Holder are far quicker than them. And all three of those bowlers, at times, have been said to be not quick enough. In fact, Southee and Bhuvneshwar have put on extra pace just to survive. There was a time when you needed to bowl 90mph to be seen to bowl quick. We're now getting to the point where you need to bowl 90mph to get picked.

There might have been faster bowlers in the past, but there has never been a time with more fast bowlers.

Allrounders used to be slow first-change bowlers like Walker. The allrounders who bowl these days are Chris Morris, Ben Stokes, Mitch Marsh, Andre Russell, Tim Bresnan and Sean Abbott. None of these guys are slow. At their top speeds, they are fast-medium. Stokes and Russell are quicker than that.

When the helmet was invented there were probably only a handful of bowlers who could bowl at 90mph. Now there are probably at least 50, and that number will soon be 100.

The true evolution of fast bowling isn't the top speeds. Perhaps Thommo was the quickest, or maybe the fastest was from the Tait, Brett Lee and Akhtar era. But the true test of how much quicker bowling has become is how many people these days can bowl around 90mph.

England can pick from Steven Finn, James Anderson, Stuart Broad, Mark Wood, Liam Plunkett, Ben Stokes, Jake Ball and Chris Woakes as their first-choice seamers. Woakes was seen as too slow when he started. This summer he was clocking over 90mph. And if you're batting in county cricket you could be facing Stuart Meaker, Tony Roland-Jones, Mark Footit, Tymal Mills, Boyd Rankin, Jamie Overton, Matt Coles, Kyle Abbott, Fidel Edwards or Tino Best.

There was a time when Australia scared the cricket world with two proper quick bowlers in Thommo and Lillee. After that, West Indies dominated cricket with four quick bowlers for two generations. Now England regularly take in four bowlers who are around 90mph and it's barely commented on. South Africa could easily do the same. Even India, for years the laughing stock of fast bowling talent, have Umesh Yadav and Varun Aaron bowling very quick. The days of New Zealand's army of military medium is well and truly over.

Even first-class teams often have multiple fast bowlers in their XIs now. When the helmet was invented there were probably only a handful of bowlers who could bowl at 90mph. Now there are probably at least 50, and that number will soon be 100.

That is not even mentioning the left-armers. Until Wasim Akram there had been one left-arm quick bowler with more than 150 Test wickets. Now they are everywhere. And as England and South Africa showed when facing Mitchell Johnson, it's a whole different set of skills needed to try and survive a physical attack from a left-arm bowler at top-end pace.

This is the natural evolution of cricket. Not individual bowlers being express, but many players bowling fast. And like rugby is struggling with the fact that their players are bigger and faster now, cricket's struggle is going to be with the fact there have never been as many bouncers bowled at this pace as there are right now.

That will mean more chances occurring of what happened to Hughes. And that is what the discussion has to be about.

Can we stop the ball going through the grill of the helmet? Is the heart in danger from being hit at 90mph? Are there proper concussion guidelines in place? With batsmen brought up wearing helmets getting hit more often, is CTE (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy) going to be a problem in cricket? Are the medical procedures adequate at international and first-class games? Is there a way we can ever protect the throat? And are the new neck protectors going to save a batsman?

These are the questions that scientists, doctors, cricketers, the ICC and helmet manufacturers should be working on together. At the moment, it seems like the helmet makers are trying to catch up, and while they are doing a good job, there is only so much money in selling a cricket helmet. The real money and help should come from within the cricket industry itself.

Perhaps the coroner's inquest was not the perfect place to talk about protecting cricketers as there was so much emotion around it. But we must now have this conversation. Cricket should have had a safety summit to try to make the game safer. The game owes it to Phil Hughes and to every player who picks up a bat.