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Recent Blog Posts:
Fiending for Nitrates
The Clandestine Chemistry of Fritz Haber
The German chemical industry was foundational in developing a myriad of chemical processes that quite literally revolutionised the world. The effects of this industry are invisible to us today, yet countless goods we enjoy are dependent on chemical innovations developed in Germany in the early 20th century.
One major breakthrough was the Haber-Bosch process, which produces nitrate from air and hydrogen. This process is absolutely foundational to the modern food system. Without the ability to fix nitrogen from the air, we would still rely solely on animal shit to fertilise crops. Vaclav Smil estimates that without the Haber process, we would need four times as much land to produce the same amount of food we do today—meaning that more than half of Earth’s dry land would have to be farmland (compared to just 15% today).
To put the importance of this process in perspective: as of 2018, the Haber-Bosch process consumes around 2% of the world’s total energy supply. Additionally, about 50% of the nitrogen in our bodies (originally from the plants we eat) comes from the Haber-Bosch process.
The development of this process was, in some ways, clandestine.
In 1914, Germany was at war and needed explosives, which depended on imported nitrates. British-imposed sea blockades cut off many essential raw materials, including saltpeter (NaNO3), a key nitrate for explosives, which was either mined in Chile or produced from guano (bird shit) found on tropical islands.
Germany desperately needed a homegrown, pure, source of Nitrates to stave of withdrawal.
Luckily Fritz Haber had been working on such a process. His method was purchased by the chemical company BASF, which assigned Carl Bosch the task of scaling it for industrial use. Together, they overcame the engineering challenges of high pressures and temperatures to produce the first ammonia reactors.
The process essentially burns methane gas in a large pressurised tube in the presence of a metal catalyst (initially osmium and uranium, later specialised iron catalysts). Hydrogen gas, liberated from methane, reacts with nitrogen gas to form ammonia, which can then be used to create other important nitrogen-based compounds like nitric acid, ammonium nitrate, and potassium nitrate.
N2 + 3H2 → 2NH3
While the synthetic production of ammonia was crucial for the German war effort, its impact extended far beyond. Today, synthetic ammonia is a vital raw material for millions of chemicals and is essential for fertilising the crops that sustain us.
It’s worth noting that Fritz Haber also pioneered chemical warfare, being the first to propose the use of chlorine gas in trench warfare. It’s ironic that bombs and nerve agents were the catalyst for technological discoveries that ultimately quadrupled the efficiency of agriculture. Complicated Guy.
— Errol Bloom
The Meaning of Capital
You are a capitalist (pig)
The word “capitalism” gets thrown around a lot—so much so that we often assume we know what it means without bothering to define it in our conversations.
At its core, capitalism is the ideology that prioritises capital as the key driver of economic systems, rather than other factors like military expansion or government spending.
But what is capital?
Here’s a definition from the Oxford English Dictionary:
Capital: [uncountable] wealth or property owned by a business or a person that can be invested or used to start a business.
Investing in the stock market, renting out a property, and earning interest in a bank are all examples of how average people in countries like Australia participate in capitalism.
This makes modern capitalist societies fundamentally different from many older ones, such as the fiefdoms of medieval Europe. When a local lord collected taxes, he often used the wealth to raise armies, build fortifications, throw festivals, or fund crusades. These activities weren’t capitalistic because they didn’t (directly) boost the economic productivity of the fiefdom.
The key difference between capital and general wealth, money, or property is how it’s put to use. Contrary to popular belief, buying a BMW or splurging on an Italian holiday aren’t examples of capitalism—they’re examples of consumerism.
Capitalism is using wealth to generate more wealth—by investing in stocks, factory equipment, bonds, or even a neighbour’s small business.
Words matter, and we use so many without a tight understanding of their actual meanings.
Anyway, until tomorrow.
— Errol Bloom
True Alchemy
Bacon, and the Brazen Head
Alchemy: From Old French, Alquemie, derived from Arabic al-kīmiyā (الكيمياء), composed of al (the) and kīmiyā, from Greek khēmeía — “the process of transmutation of the earth.”
Alchemists focused on three primary pursuits: chrysopoeia, the transmutation of base metals into gold; the creation of the elixir of immortality; and the discovery of various panaceas, substances capable of curing all illnesses. At the core of alchemy was the belief that all substances could be purified and perfected through a combination of physical and spiritual processes.
Roger Bacon, a Franciscan friar and polymath, is one of the most iconic figures of Western alchemy. Living between 1220 and 1292, Bacon was regarded as both a magician and an early advocate of empirical science. Though difficult to reconcile with modern conceptions of scientific rigor, Bacon made significant contributions to fields as diverse as optics, mathematics, astronomy, linguistics, music, and Aristotelian logic. He is also credited with the first Western recipe for gunpowder and significant work in cryptography. According to legend, he owned and/or created a mechanical bronze head that could answer any question posed to it, a feat which earned him the title of Wizard.
In retrospect, Bacon can be viewed as a futurist, and was incredibly early to a number of important inventions and discoveries. Did he not predict human flight and the combustion engine?
“Machines for navigating are possible without rowers, so that great ships suited to rivers or oceans, guided by one man, may travel faster than if full of men. Likewise, cars may be made so that, without a draught animal, they may be moved cum impetu inaestimabili (with unimaginable force), as we believe scythed chariots once were in antiquity. And flying machines are possible, so that a man may sit in the middle, turning a device by which artificial wings may beat the air like a bird.”
And this 600 years before the bicycle.
Many of Bacon’s once-mystical interests have since become fully realised fields of science: chemistry, physics, pharmacology, cryptography, and human flight.
Even the strange and fantastical idea of the “brazen head” — a mechanical automaton that could answer any question — has, in a sense, been realised in the modern world, over 800 years after Bacon’s death.
Is AI not the twenty-first century instantiation of Bacon’s Brazen head?
Is humanity moving towards a complete alchemy?
Are we on the precipice of arrival?
— Errol Bloom
The (Self-Defeating) Drive to Cultivate an Easy Life
Agriculture and Email
We humans often believe that by putting in extra work now, we’ll make life easier later. But what if human nature itself is the defeater of this aim?
Take early human hunter-gatherers. Anthropologists suggest that they likely lived in relative abundance, spending only a few hours each day hunting and foraging—at least when times were good.
Then, around 9000 BC, some boffins in the Levant figured out that by spreading grass seeds, they could ensure there would be more food to forage next year. Genius! A little extra work now—clearing some forest, planting more seeds—meant life would be easier later.
Of course, the next year, they thought the same thing. And with even more food, they had more time to improve their fields, leading to permanent shelters, tools for threshing grain, and eventually enough food to last all year. More food meant more children. More children meant more people. And more people meant even more work—defending, preparing, storing, watering, and breeding their crops.
Again in the 1970s, boffins at MIT figured out how to send electronic letters, eliminating the need for paper, stamps, and delivery routes. Sending letters became much easier. But as we started using computerised letters, the time we spent on mail didn’t diminish—it exploded.
These examples of efficiency driving less rather than more easy lives, happened over long timeframes — thousands of years for agriculture, and decades for email. But this pattern can be seen in the timeframe of a lifetime too.
Many people are tempted to start businesses or begin property investing, so as to make money which they ostensibly want so as to make their life easier later - a clear case of “putting in the work upfront”.
But it is clear that many or most business owners and property tycoons do not end up working less than other people - they work much more.
None of this to say that it is wrong, or impossible for humans to put in work upfront with the idea of reaping rewards later. But we must be careful not to fall into the trap of thinking that our upfront efforts will invariably lead to such an outcome. History shows that this can backfire, big time.
Hark, young boffins! Pay mind to the cultivation of thy morrow — from the seeds thou scatter shall come crops thou must toil to keep.
— Errol Bloom
The Malleability of Time
Atypical Career Advice
Last night I was attending a university alumni networking event, when one of the panelists, out of nowhere, delivered some rather atypical advice about the malleability of Time.
It was rather unexpected: I find that life/career advice is generally a re-work of some piece of wisdom that everyone has heard before (which is not to say it’s bad advice, only predictable).
In response to a rather typical question about how young professionals should prioritise between career, family, entrepreneurial endeavours, and travel, David MacLennan (a civil servant and diplomat) responded that he views Time itself as a conceptually infinite resource, which is apt to be directed and changed by one’s mind.
Rather stunned by the sudden intrusion of yogic philosophy into a rather dry career-focused panel discussion, my ears pricked. Don’t people say that Time is the ultimate resource, that Time is money, that elderly billionaires would trade their wealth for a little more Time, if only they could?
He said that all human resources are finite, with the exception of time, which was infinite. He said that it was possible, by focusing ones mind, to make the passage of time as fast or as slow as one wished. He said that with a strong mind, years can be made to seem like seconds, and days can last lifetimes.
He said not to worry about fitting your aspirations and desires into the time you think you have, and rather, fit time to your aspirations.
I don’t think I fully understand what he meant.
But it was genuine, and interesting.
- Errol Bloom
A Case For Bullfighting
Blood, Swords, and Killing in the Modern World
I went to a bullfight when I was in Seville — I thought it would be an interesting experience and fully expected to be horrified by what I would see.
Instead, I loved it. I developed a much deeper appreciation for the tradition and now find myself defending it. I even plan on going again. I now believe it would be a travesty if bullfighting were outlawed in Spain, one of the few countries where it is still practised.
The case against bullfighting:
Critics of bullfighting raise several ethical arguments, often centring on the following claim:
In bullfighting, the bull suffers greatly and unnecessarily.
They also make other appeals, such as: animals suffer for human entertainment, bullfighting is a bloodsport, and that it is particularly immoral to kill an animal for reasons other than food.
Watching a bullfight, it’s immediately clear why someone would think this. Bullfighting is undoubtedly a bloodsport, the bulls do suffer greatly, and the purpose is human entertainment.
So why am I pro-bullfighting?
The case for bullfighting:
We are humans, omnivores, and we eat meat (a good chunk of it is beef, too).
Of course, we don’t have to eat meat. We could be vegetarians. There are many solid ethical arguments for why we should be vegetarians, which I won’t address here at all.
However, many people who oppose bullfighting aren’t against eating meat. I find this interesting, and a little strange.
I propose this is due to how disconnected modern humans are from their food — most of us encounter only the final link in the chain of farms, feedlots, and abattoirs: the butcher. We don’t think of our steaks as having suffered. But they do.
That’s the reality of the world. We eat, or we are eaten. Everything lives, and everything dies. What dies feeds that which killed it.
Watching the bullfight in Seville, I felt connected to a reality I had never truly confronted before: the truth that humans and the animals we eat are connected by death and violence. Every steak I had eaten was once an enormous, powerful, beautiful, dangerous animal. An animal that had very likely lived in paddocks less lush than the prized Fighting-Bull before me, and had died without a fight and without an audience, on the bloody concrete floor of an abattoir unknown to me.
As I sit watching the bullfight, I am somewhat surprised by the crowd. It seems like the entire city is here, and the spectators span all ages: grandparents, children, teenagers, and adults. I am particularly struck by the number of young Spanish people, in their twenties, gathered with friends and extended families. Everyone is dressed impeccably: the men and boys in white shirts and trousers, the women and girls in long summer dresses.
I notice the crowd’s reactions:
It hisses with disapproval when the matador clumsily misses the heart with his sword, leaving the bull bleeding and injured. It screams in disbelief as the next matador narrowly evades being impaled. It roars in approval, waving white handkerchiefs, as another matador executes the perfect estocada, the bull dying even as it stands, crumpling lifeless to the ground.
I left the bullfight was immense respect for the animals that were killed, and a awe-inspiring (and slightly disturbing) connection to the bloody nature of our relationship with meat.
The experience was beautiful and powerful, and I believe if more people witnessed a bullfight, the world might be better for it. It made me think of the immense effort, sacrifice, and risk our ancestors had to endure to feed themselves. It made me reflect on the vast and invisible food chain that sustains us all.
I imagine a counterfactual world, where that food chain has disappeared, and we are returned to nature. In such a world, if we wanted to eat meat, we would need to kill it, with only our hands and the tools we could craft. It would be bloody, brutal, and dangerous. And if nature were kind to us, we would prevail, eat, and live another day.
I think it is virtuous to be reminded of such things, and the bullfight did that for me. I Think it probably does the same thing for the Spanish culture considered broadly. And thus, that is why I believe that Bullfighting has a place in the modern world.
- Errol Bloom
Waiting for Kids
Modern conceptions of Parenthood
I want children.
But, of course, not yet. First, I need to secure a steady income, buy a house, save some money, and sort my life out.
Or do I?
It seems like almost everyone in my generation shares some version of this thought. Being a responsible parent means having everything sorted before even considering having children.
But when you really think about it, how realistic is this? Will we ever truly feel wealthy enough, stable enough, or prepared enough?
In an age of abundance and comfort, especially here in Australia, what does it mean to say that we don’t already have the means to raise children? We can certainly afford to feed them—and feed them better than past generations ever dreamed possible.
If home ownership is a prerequisite for responsible parenting, are we really saying that any parent who isn’t a literal millionaire (or a slave to the equivalent amount of debt) is irresponsible?
Would it be so unthinkable if we didn’t have the disposable income necessary to ensure they can attend a private school, take horse-riding lessons, and go on the year 11 ski-trip?
What would truly serve a future child best?
A large home with their own bathroom, “financial security,” the means to pursue endless extracurriculars, and an annual European holiday?
Or is it energy, enthusiasm, time, and parents who want to bring them along for life’s ride?
Would some wealthy future child trade all those resources to have parents who were younger, more energetic, less jaded, less consumed by finance and careers, but poorer?
Perhaps—just perhaps—we’ve been misled by 21st-century culture. Maybe we’ve confused the universal responsibility parents have for their children’s well-being with a shallow, financial version of that responsibility.
Children’s needs are diverse and multifaceted—not just material. Once we can provide food, shelter, and education (which we can), what comes next on their hierarchy of needs? I suspect the answer has much more to do with emotional attention and parental presence than material wealth.
Financial security can provide comfort — but do we need more comfort?
Perhaps it’s time to rethink what it means to be “ready” for children. Maybe the greatest gift we can give our children is us—our time, our care, our energy.
- Errol Bloom