bluuebunny/crossref_metadata_2025 huggingface dataset:
Density Functional Approaches to Relativistic Quantum Mechanics
Authors: Dyall Kenneth G. , Faegri Knut
Published: November 2020

The wave function is an elusive and somewhat mysterious object. Nobody has ever observed the wave function directly: rather, its existence is inferred from the various experiments whose outcome is most rationally explained using a wave function interpretation of quantum mechanics. Further, the N-particle wave function is a rather complicated construction, depending on 3N spatial coordinates as well as N spin coordinates, correlated in a manner that almost defies description. By contrast, the electron density of an N-electron system is a much simpler quantity, described by three spatial coordinates and even accessible to experiment. In terms of the wave function, the electron density is expressed as . . . ρ(r) = N ∫ Ψ* (r1,r2,...,rN)Ψ (r1,r2,...,rN)dr2dr3 ...drN (14.1) . . . where the sum over spin coordinates is implicit. It might be much more convenient to have a theory based on the electron density rather than the wave function. The description would be much simpler, and with a greatly reduced (and constant) number of variables, the calculation of the electron density would hopefully be faster and less demanding. We also note that given the correct ground state density, we should be able to calculate any observable quantity of a stationary system. The answer to these hopes is density functional theory, or DFT. Over the past decade, DFT has become one of the most widely used tools of the computational chemist, and in particular for systems of some size. This success has come despite complaints about arbitrary parametrization of potentials, and laments about the absence of a universal principle (other than comparison with experiment) that can guide improvements in the way the variational principle has led the development of wave-function-based methods. We do not intend to pursue that particular discussion, but we note as a historical fact that many important early contributions to relativistic quantum chemistry were made using DFT-like methods. Furthermore, there is every reason to try to extend the success of nonrelativistic DFT methods to the relativistic domain. We suspect that their potential for conquering a sizable part of this field is at least as large as it has been in the nonrelativistic domain.
Regular Approximations
Authors: Dyall Kenneth G. , Faegri Knut
Published: November 2020

Perturbation theory is a useful tool for evaluating small corrections to a system, and as we noted in the preceding chapter, relativity is a small correction for much of the periodic table. If we can use perturbation theory based on an expansion in 1/c we assign much of the work associated with a more complete relativistic treatment to the end of an otherwise nonrelativistic calculation. The problems with the Pauli Hamiltonian—the singular operators and the questionable validity of an expansion in powers of p/mc—are essentially circumvented by the use of direct perturbation theory. For systems containing heavier atoms it is necessary to go to higher order in 1/c perturbation theory, and possibly even abandon perturbation theory altogether. If we could perform an expansion that yielded a zeroth-order Hamiltonian incorporating relativistic effects to some degree and that was manifestly convergent, it might be possible to use perturbation theory to low order for heavy elements. If we wish to incorporate some level of relativistic effects into the zeroth-order Hamiltonian, we cannot start from Pauli perturbation theory or direct perturbation theory. But can we find an alternative expansion that contains relativistic corrections and is valid for all r: that is, can we derive a regular expansion that is convergent for all reasonable values of the parameters? The expansion we consider in this chapter has roots in the work by Chang, Pélissier, and Durand (1986) and Heully et al. (1986), which was developed further by van Lenthe et al. (1993, 1994). These last authors coined the term “regular approximation” because of the properties of the expansion. The Pauli expansion results from taking 2mc2 out of the denominator of the equation for the elimination of the small component (ESC). The problem with this is that both E and V can potentially be larger in magnitude than 2mc2 and so the expansion is not valid in some region of space. In particular, there is always a region close to the nucleus where |V − E|/2mc2 > 1. An alternative operator to extract from the denominator is the operator 2mc2 − V , which is always positive definite for the nuclear potential and is always greater than 2mc2.
Soil and the Environment
Authors: White Robert E.
Published: November 2020

English has no exact translation for the French word terroir. But terroir is one of the few words to evoke passion in any discussion about soils. One reason may be that wine is one product of the land where the consumer can ascribe a direct link between subtle variations in the character of the product and the soil on which it was grown. Wine writers and commentators now use the term terroir routinely, as they might such words as rendezvous, liaison, and café, which are completely at home in the English language. French vignerons and scientists have been more passionate than most in pro­moting the concept of terroir (although some such as Pinchon (1996) believe that the word terroir has been abused for marketing, sentimental, and political pur­poses). Their views range from the metaphysical—that “alone, in the plant king­dom, does the vine make known to us the true taste of the earth” (quoted by Han­cock 1999, p. 43)—to the factual: “terroir viticole is a complex notion which integrates several factors . . . of the natural environment (soil, climate, topogra­phy), biological (variety, rootstock), and human (of wine, wine-making, and his­tory)” (translated from van Leeuwen 1996, p. 1). Others recognize terroir as a dy­namic concept of site characterization that comprises permanent factors (e.g., geology, soil, environment) and temporary factors (variety, cultural methods, wine­making techniques). Iacano et al. (2000) point out that if the temporary factors vary too much, the expression of the permanent factors in the wine (the essence of terroir) can be masked. The difference between wines from particular vineyards cannot be detected above the “background noise” (Martin 2000). A basic aim of good vineyard management is not to disguise, but to amplify, the natural terroir of a site. Terroir therefore denotes more than simply the relationship between soil and wine. Most scientists admit they cannot express quantitatively the relationship be­tween a particular terroir and the characteristics of wine produced from that ter­roir. Nevertheless, the concept of terroir underpins the geographical demarcation of French viticultural areas: the Appellation d’Origine Contrôllée (AOC) system, which is based on many years’ experience of the character and quality of individ­ual wines from specific areas.
Cell Growth and Differentiation
Authors: Saltzman W. Mark
Published: November 2020

The expansion in size of a region of tissue, often called growth, is critical to embryonic development and tissue repair. Growth of a tissue most often occurs by an increase in cell number. In fact, sequential cell division—and a resulting increase in total cell number—is the most important change of early development. As development proceeds, however, the rate of increase in cell number slows but the overall size of the organism continues to increase steadily. Growth throughout life can occur by a variety of mechanisms in addition to increased cell number; for example, increases in cell volume or extracellular volume also produce growth. The overall growth of an organ or tissue can involve multiple mechanisms. For example, in the nervous system, neurons increase in size, but not number, as a juvenile grows to adulthood. By contrast, glial cells within the nervous system divide and proliferate throughout life. Overall, however, cell proliferation (which occurs by the process of sequential cell division) is the most important feature of tissue growth. Growth is only one of the changes that occurs with development. As a child grows to adulthood, her increase in size is probably less astonishing than her overall change in behavior and ability. Underlying this overall change are dramatic alterations in function and operation of individual cells; this observation is related to the discussion in Chapter 3, in which the processes of cellular differentiation and specialization were introduced. The child develops by reference to a fixed instructional program, the genome, which somehow encodes all of the molecular signals that lead to increases in size, changes in shape, and inexorable dynamics of aging. But the child is also influenced by her environment and the opportunities for change that her environment presents. One child becomes a doctor and another a cellist; the factors and forces that nudge each down her path are not programmed by the genes alone. Similarly, differentiation of a cell is influenced by its genetic composition and the environment that surrounds it. This chapter begins with a discussion of mechanisms and kinetics of cell division. Later parts of the chapter consider some of the factors that influence cell differentiation. The relationship of cell growth during development of a normal organism and cell growth in culture is introduced in the final sections.
Cell Adhesion
Authors: Saltzman W. Mark
Published: November 2020

The external surface of the cell consists of a phospholipid bilayer which carries a carbohydrate-rich coat called the glycocalyx; ionizable groups within the glycocalyx, such as sialic acid (N-acetyl neuraminate), contribute a net negative charge to the cell surface. Many of the carbohydrates that form the glycocalyx are bound to membrane-associated proteins. Each of these components— phospholipid bilayer, carbohydrate-rich coat, membrane-associated protein—has distinct physicochemical characteristics and is abundant. Plasma membranes contain ∼50% protein, ∼45% lipid, and ∼5% carbohydrate by weight. Therefore, each component influences cell interactions with the external environment in important ways. Cells can become attached to surfaces. The surface of interest may be geometrically complex (for example, the surface of another cell, a virus, a fiber, or an irregular object), but this chapter will focus on adhesion between a cell and a planar surface. The consequences of cell–cell adhesion are considered further in Chapter 8 (Cell Aggregation and Tissue Equivalents) and Chapter 9 (Tissue Barriers to Molecular and Cellular Transport). The consequences of cell–substrate adhesion are considered further in Chapter 7 (Cell Migration) and Chapter 12 (Cell Interactions with Polymers). Since the growth and function of many tissue-derived cells required attachment and spreading on a solid substrate, the events surrounding cell adhesion are fundamentally important. In addition, the strength of cell adhesion is an important determinant of the rate of cell migration, the kinetics of cell–cell aggregation, and the magnitude of tissue barriers to cell and molecule transport. Cell adhesion is therefore a major consideration in the development of methods and materials for cell delivery, tissue engineering, and tissue regeneration. The most stable and versatile mechanism for cell adhesion involves the specific association of cell surface glycoproteins, called receptors, and complementary molecules in the extracellular space, called ligands. Ligands may exist freely in the extracellular space, they may be associated with the extracellular matrix, or they may be attached to the surface of another cell. Cell–cell adhesion can occur by homophilic binding of identical receptors on different cells, by heterophilic binding of a receptor to a ligand expressed on the surface of a different cell, or by association of two receptors with an intermediate linker. Cell–matrix adhesion usually occurs by heterophilic binding of a receptor to a ligand attached to an insoluble element of the extracellular matrix.
Cell Delivery and Recirculation
Authors: Saltzman W. Mark
Published: November 2020

Perhaps the simplest realization of tissue engineering involves the direct administration of a suspension of engineered cells—cells that have been isolated, characterized, manipulated, and amplified outside of the body. One can imagine engineering diverse and useful properties into the injected cells: functional enzymes, secretion of drugs, resistance to immune recognition, and growth control. We are most familiar with methods for manipulating the cell internal chemistry by introduction or removal of genes; for example, the first gene therapy experiments involved cells that were engineered to produce a deficient enzyme, adenine deaminase (see Chapter 2). But genes also encode systems that enable cell movement, cell mechanics, and cell adhesion. Conceivably, these systems can be modified to direct the interactions of an administered cell with its new host. For example, cell adhesion signals could be introduced to provide tissue targeting, cytoskeleton-associated proteins could be added to alter viscosity and deformability (in order to prolong circulation time), and motor proteins could be added to facilitate cell migration. Ideally, cell fate would also be engineered, so that the cell would move to the appropriate location in the body, no matter how it was administered; for example, transfused liver cells would circulate in the blood and, eventually, crawl into the liver parenchyma. Cells find their place in developing organisms by a variety of chemotactic and adhesive signals, but can these same signaling mechanisms be engaged to target cells administered to an adult organism? We have already considered the critical role of cell movement in development in Chapter 3. In this chapter, the utility of cell trafficking in tissue engineering is approached by first considering the normal role of cell recirculation and trafficking within the adult organism. Most cells can be easily introduced into the body by intravenous injection or infusion. This procedure is particularly appropriate for cells that function within the circulation; for example, red blood cells (RBCs) and lymphocytes. The first blood transfusions into humans were performed by Jean-Baptiste Denis, a French physician, in 1667. This early appearance of transfusion is startling, since the circulatory system was described by William Harvey only a few decades earlier, in 1628.
Raiding the Range
Authors: Wilshire Howard G. , Hazlett Richard W. , Nielson Jane E.
Published: November 2020

“Home on the Range” evokes a western landscape “where the deer and the antelope play.” But even at the song’s debut in the 1870s, deer and antelope were declining in numbers and cattle grazing was degrading rangelands across the American west. In their natural state, arid North American lands are robust and productive, but they recover exceedingly slowly from heavy grazing. By 1860, more than 3.5 million domesticated grazing animals were trampling arid western soils, causing severe erosion and lowering both water quality and water supplies in a water-poor region. The early start and persistence of grazing over such a long period of time invaded every nook and cranny of the public lands, making livestock grazing the most pervasively damaging human land use across all western ecosystems. Today, grazing affects approximately 260 million acres of publicly owned forest and rangelands, mostly in the 11 western states—about equivalent to the combined area of California, Arizona, and Colorado. Those acres include Pacific Northwest - r and ponderosa forests; Great Basin big sagebrush lands; the richly H oral Sonoran Desert; magni- cent high-desert Joshua tree forests; varied shrub associations in the low-elevation Mojave, Great Basin, Chihuahuan, and other southwestern deserts; and extensive Colorado Plateau pinyon–juniper forests stretching from northern Arizona and New Mexico to southern Colorado and Utah and decorating the arid inland plateaus of Washington, Oregon, and northeastern California. Proponents of public lands grazing argue that cattle have not changed anything. They just replace the immense herds of hooved native herbivores—bison, deer, antelope, and elk—that once dominated western ranges. But in pre-European settlement times, natural forces, including unlimited predators and limited fodder, effectively controlled the native animal populations. Unlike cattle, the herds of deer, antelope, and elk wintered in generally snow-free lowland areas and used much less than their full range each year. And those animals were easier on the land, especially the rivers. Immense bison herds ranged over vast areas, never staying very long on any range. Bison rarely visited the sites of today’s major livestock grazing problems in Great Basin and southwestern deserts, however. On northern ranges, bison obtained winter moisture from eating snow and did not cling to creeks and streams the way cattle do.
The Last Drops
Authors: Wilshire Howard G. , Hazlett Richard W. , Nielson Jane E.
Published: November 2020

The western United States has low overall rainfall and snowfall levels, few rivers, and many deep groundwater basins. Small Native American populations once lived within the restraints of aridity by seeking harmony with nature. But owning land in such an arid region means little or nothing without a supply of fresh water. Instead of limiting population growth in the face of scarce and unpredictable rainfall, however, the west’s aridity challenged the newcomers to redirect water supplies and make the rich desert soils bloom. The region’s localized precipitation, generally doled out on boom-and-bust schedules, has made water “the most essential and fought over resource in the western United States.” Raising a lone voice of warning in 1893, western explorer John Wesley Powell foresaw that irrigating western lands would pile up “a heritage of conflict and litigation over water rights for there is not sufficient water to supply the land.”2 That Powell was right about conflicts goes without saying, for the west’s bitter heritage of water wars speaks for itself.3 Invading Americans used legal doctrines of first appropriation and “beneficial use” to take water from Indians’ lands and then turned to taking it from each other, oblivious to the effects on wildlife and natural habitats. Today’s depleted river flows and overpumped groundwater basins indicate that Powell probably was right about water supply limits, too. Expanding populations and increasing water contamination have strained supplies of fresh, clean water, even as per capita water demands decrease. By the 1970s, degraded natural settings, rising water pollution, and disappearing native fauna had lowered the quality of western life and built a constituency for environmental protection. But the 1970 National Environmental Policy Act and 1973 Endangered Species Act simply pitted environmental groups and courts against irrigators, cities, and states. In an ironic reversal, recently enriched Native Americans are poised to exercise their primary legal claims to many western rivers.
Basic Body Plan General Overview
Authors: Goldfinger Eliot
Published: November 2020

There is a basic body plan common to most of the animals presented in this book. At its most obvious, they all have a head, a body, and four limbs. Most are four-legged and stand on all fours, and are described as having front limbs and rear limbs. The front limb is anatomically equivalent to the arm and hand in humans and primates, and the rear limb to the human lower limb. The animals in this book are surprisingly similar in many ways. The head is connected to the rib cage by the neck vertebrae and the rib cage is connected to the pelvis by the lumbar vertebrae. The two front limbs are connected to the rib cage, and the two rear limbs are connected to the pelvis. These units move in relation to one another, establishing the stance, or pose, of an animal. Animals differ primarily in the shape and relative proportions of these structural units, in the position of the wrist, heel, and toe bones when standing and walking, and by the number of their toes. An animal can be visualized as being constructed of a series of simplified, three-dimensional, somewhat geometric volumes (head, forearm, thigh). Each of these volumes has one dimension that is longer than the others. A line projected through the center of the mass of this volume on its longest dimension is called its axis (plural, axes). For the most part, especially in the limbs, these axes follow the skeleton, so that a line drawn through the long dimension of a bone is on, or close to, the axis of the volume of that region (for example, the position of the radius is close to the axis of the forearm). One of the more confusing regions of the body is the volume of the upper arm. The humerus (upper arm bone) is mostly deeply buried in muscle, and lies toward the front of this muscle mass, with the massive triceps muscle located at its rear.
Birds
Authors: Goldfinger Eliot
Published: November 2020

Bird characteristics: Body always covered with feathers; feet (toes and usually tarsometatarsus) covered with scales (thickened skin). Aquatic birds have webbed toes. No teeth; horny beak. Lightweight skeleton in flying birds (many hollow bones), with keel on sternum for attachment of flight muscles (pectoral muscles). No keel in large flightless birds (ostrich, emu, rhea). Completely bony ribs (no rib cartilage). Clavicles fused into single bone, the furculum (wishbone). Numerous neck vertebrae (number varies by species) provide great neck flexibility. Some of the middle thoracic vertebrae fused in some species (chicken); posterior thoracic, all lumbar, and all sacral vertebrae fused into synsacrum, which in turn is fused to the pelvis. Short, flexible tail terminates in stout bone (pygostyle) for support of highly mobile long tail feathers. Wing (arm) skeleton modified for flying (ostrich and penguins evolved from flying ancestors). Wrist joint automatically straightens when elbow joint is straightened; conversely, wrist joint automatically bends when elbow joint is bent. Individual hand and finger bones reduced in number and largely fused together for support of primaries (outer flight feathers). Three digits present; small third digit nonmovable. Short alular feathers attach to movable first digit. Secondaries (inner flight feathers) attach to rear edge of ulna. Three toes point forward and one points backward in most species (e.g., chicken, hawk, crow), or two toes forward and two back (e.g., woodpecker, parrot). Ostrich has two toes per foot. Toes terminate with claws. Male chicken has bony spur covered with horny sheath on tarsometatarsus.
Integrating Geographic Information Systems and Agent-Based Modeling Techniques for Understanding Social and Ecological Processes
Authors: Gimblett H. Randy
Published: November 2020

This volume presents a set of coherent, cross-referenced perspectives on incorporating the spatial representation and analytical power of GIS with agent-based modelling of evolutionary and non-linear processes and phenomena. Many recent advances in software algorithms for incorporating geographic data in modeling social and ecological behaviors, and successes in applying such algorithms, had not been adequately reported in the literature. This book seeks to serve as the standard guide to this broad area.
Spatial Units as Agents: Making the Landscape an Equal Player in Agent-Based Simulations
Authors: Box Paul
Published: November 2020

Agent-based modeling has generated considerable interest in recent years as a tool for exploring many of the processes that can be modeled as bottom up processes. This has accelerated with the availability of software packages, such as Swarm and StarLogo, that allow for relatively complex simulations to be constructed by researchers with limited computer-programming backgrounds. A typical use of agent-based models is to simulate scenarios where large numbers of individuals are inhabiting a landscape, interacting with their landscape and each other by relatively simple rules, and observing the emergent behavior of the system (population) over time. It has been a natural extension in this sort of a study to create a landscape from a “real world” example, typically imported through a geographic information system (GIS). In most cases, the landscape is represented either as a static object, or a “stage” upon which the agents act (see Briggs et al. , Girnblett et al., and Remm). In some cases, an approximation of a dynamic landscape has been added to the simulation in a way that is completely exogenous to the population being simulated; the dynamic conditions are read from historical records, in effect “playing a tape” of conditions, to which the population reacts through time (such as Dean et al. and Kohler et al. ). There has also been many simulations where dynamic landscape processes have been modeled through “bottom up” processes, where localized processes in landscapes are simulated, and the global emergent processes are observed. Topmodel is a Fortran-based implementation of this concept for hydrologic processes; and PCRaster has used similar software constructs to simulate a variety of landscape processes, with sophisticated visualization and data-gathering tools. In both of these examples, the landscape is represented as a regular lattice or cell structure. There are also many examples of “home grown” tools (simulations created for a specific project), applying cellular automata (CA) rules to landscapes to simulate urban growth, wildfire , lava flows, and groundwater flow. There are also examples of how agent-based modeling tools were employed to model dynamic landscape processes such as forest dynamics, i.e., Arborgames. In these models the landscape was the object of the simulation, and free-roaming agents were not considered as part of the model.
Integrating Spatial Data into an Agent-Based Modeling System: Ideas and Lessons from the Development of the Across-Trophic-Level System Simulation
Authors: Duke-Sylvester Scott M. , Gross Louis J.
Published: November 2020

Agent-based or individual-based models allow for variation in the state and behavior of the basic objects that interact within the model. Modeling each individual as a separate entity allows for spatially explicit components to be included so that the individuals can interact with a heterogeneous landscape and with each other. Realism is added to the models by incorporating spatially explicit data for the area of interest. Integrating spatial data into an agent-based system requires that a significant level of geographic information systems (GIS) functionality from traditional GIS be incorporated into the modeling system. This approach may seem redundant and costly, but current GIS systems do not offer a framework for building dynamic agent-based models. The across-trophic-level system simulation (ATLSS) is characterized by the integration of several distinct agent-based models and spatially explicit data into a single modeling system. One of the goals of the ATLSS (pronounced like “atlas”) project is to investigate the relative response of various interconnected trophic levels of the South Florida (SF) Everglades to different hydrologic scenarios over a thirty-year planning horizon. The ATLSS approach consists of several distinct component models, each of which represents different biotic components of the Everglades system, linked together as a multimodel. Currently, ATLSS includes component models for the Florida Panther, the Cape Sable Sea Side Sparrow, white tail deer, fresh water fish, wading birds, the Snail kite, and vegetation biomass. Additional models for alligators and various reptiles and amphibians are in development and will be added as they are completed. The list above by no means enumerates all of the species in SF. It reflects instead the initial attempt to include key components that biologists with many years of field experience in SF believed were critical to include. It also reflects the time and funding limitations to carry out empirical studies and develop both the theory and software needed to model each system component. The Florida Panther, the Cape Sable Seaside Sparrow, the Snail Kite and several wading bird species of SF are all listed as endangered species. The fish, deer, and vegetation on the other hand are included since they are critical resources for the endangered species.
Managing Harvard
Authors: Keller Morton , Keller Phyllis
Published: November 2020

Harvard’s evolution from a Brahmin to a meritocratic university involved alterations in its governance as well as the makeup of its students and faculty. The cozy, we-happy-few atmosphere of the past began to give way to more professional administration. As a chemist accustomed to overseeing a laboratory and working systematically on problems, Conant rejected Eliot’s and Lowell’s style of running the University “largely ‘under their hats.’ ” His close associate Calvert Smith recalled that he devoted the pre-World War II years to seeking “a modus operandi adaptable to the present size and complexity of the institution, which at the same time still fitted in with the traditional precedents.” But the embedded culture of a venerable, decentralized university made change difficult. Looking back in 1952, Conant concluded that administration at Harvard was not very different from what it had been in Lowell’s day. He saw the central administration “as a sort of holding company responsible for the activities of some 20-odd operating companies.” There were occasional ineffective attempts to draw up a Harvard organizational chart, but as Corporation Secretary David Bailey conceded, “the difficulties of setting down complex relationships in black and white have always prevented their being cast in final form.” The University, he thought, “is suffering from acute decentralization.” For all his commitment to institutional change, Conant relied as did his predecessors on graduates of the College with strong institutional loyalties. When he assumed office in 1933, he brought in Jerome Greene to be both his and the Corporation’s secretary. Until his retirement in 1943, this consummate civil servant was Conant’s closest counselor on alumni and other matters. Greene’s successor was A. Calvert Smith, a classmate of Conant. Smith had strong public relations skills, honed by several decades in the wilds of New York’s investment and banking world, not unlike Greene’s background. Soon after he came into office Conant made John W. Lowes, the son of Higginson Professor of English John Livingston Lowes, his financial vice president. But it was not easy to work this new position into the existing Harvard structure, especially with power-seeking Treasurer William Claflin on the scene. When Lowes left for military service in September 1941, Conant told him his position would not exist when he returned.
The College
Authors: Keller Morton , Keller Phyllis
Published: November 2020

Even in the age of the imperial faculty and powerful professional schools, the College was at the center of Harvard’s sense of itself. This was evident in the two most significant events of the Pusey years: the great fund-raising effort of the late 1950s, pointedly called the Program for Harvard College; and the upheaval of 1969, in which the largest source of attention (and concern) was the degree to which Harvard undergraduates were involved. After the postwar rush of veterans, Harvard College during the 1950s appeared in many ways to return to its prewar state. Only about a quarter of the students in 1958 were on financial aid. The typical graduate five years out in the mid-fifties lived in a large northeastern city, was married with one child, was a Republican who went to church once a month. Most undergraduates sought to live up to their national billing as the elite of the elite. The dress-down clothing style of the postwar vets gave way to resurgent preppy attire: casually (that is, purposefully) dirtied white buckskin shoes, tweed jackets, green book bags, alpine parkas. “At a distance and even from quite close up,” said one observer, “everyone looks alike.” The prevailing social style was “polite arrogance—spare, dry, cautious, and angular.” Too cool by half, thought a critic: “Even in the unregimented student life of the Yard, there has been a certain failure of nerve, a hint of the youthful generation’s prudence.” The psychological downer of the Depression and the more mature post–World War II veterans temporarily squelched the venerable Harvard tradition of spring student riots. When there was talk of resurrecting that custom, a Radcliffe girl “sniffed scornfully: ‘What sort of riot is it when it has to be planned?’ ” Springtime hijinks returned in the 1950s with a younger, more affluent student body. These had a satirical, selfconscious edge, appropriate to a more intellectual student generation. The first rumpus came in May 1952 when students gathered to welcome cartoonist Walt Kelley, creator of the popular cartoon strip “Pogo.” Confusion and delay turned to streetcar disabling and fights with the police. In April 1961, protests raged through two unruly nights against the administration’s decision to switch to less costly printed diplomas—most inexcusably in English, not Latin.
Crisis and Recovery
Authors: Keller Morton , Keller Phyllis
Published: November 2020

Every institution goes through crises produced by a mix of outside stimuli, internal discontent, and administrative failings. In the case of higher education, that happened in the late 1960s: to Berkeley in 1967 and Columbia in 1968, to Paris in the May Days of 1968, to Harvard in the spring of 1969. Critics of those upheavals resorted to the language of world-class disasters: “The Time of Troubles,” “The Terror,” “World War III.” Apologists favored comparably distended metaphors of revolution and rebirth, of a Words worthian sense of sheer bliss to be young and alive and involved in a time of institutional re-creation. The university protests of the late sixties had large-scale demographic, cultural, and political sources: the coming of age of the baby boomers, the rise of the counterculture, the trauma of Vietnam. But the greatest institutional disruption in Harvard’s history occurred as well in a more particular context: that of the increasingly meritocratic, affluent, self-satisfied university of the sixties. Of course other schools shared these qualities and experienced similar (or worse) student uprisings. But there appears to have been a special degree of shock on the part of Harvard faculty, administrators, and alumni that so much student disaffection existed in their university: that it could have happened here. The Vietnam War was the flash point that set off the protests of the late sixties. As American involvement in Vietnam grew, so did on-campus opposition. Initially it proceeded within the prescribed Harvard tradition of civility and open debate. Divinity School dean Samuel Miller wanted “to be sure that all viewpoints are represented” at a faculty meeting on Vietnam in the spring of 1965, and National Security Adviser McGeorge Bundy participated in the (relatively) polite discussion. Antidraft demonstrations were limited to a handful of students; even the Crimson had what a Pusey aide called a “mature” editorial on the topic. In November 1966, Secretary of Defense Robert McNamara came to discuss the Vietnam War at the invitation of the Kennedy School’s Institute of Politics. He emerged from a talk with students in Quincy House to face a crowd, organized by Students for a Democratic Society, which tried to engage him in a “debate.” Ultimately he was obliged to escape through Harvard’s steam tunnels.
The College
Authors: Keller Morton , Keller Phyllis
Published: November 2020

What place did Harvard College have in the modern University, with its expansive central administration, research-driven faculty, ambitious and high-powered professional schools? A much more important one than this litany of potential threats might suggest. The College remained the most conspicuous and prestigious part of the University. It produced the most generous donors; it outclassed its rivals in attracting the most sought-after students; it exemplified Harvard in the public mind. And it shared in the worldly ambience of the late-twentieth-century University. For decades, Harvard College admissions was a battleground over who would be accepted and on what grounds access would be granted. The admission of Jews was a touchstone issue in the conflict between the Brahmin and meritocratic impulses from the 1920s to the 1950s. Then another problem came to the fore: how to choose a freshman class from a swelling number of qualified applicants. As selection became ever more complex and arcane, the sheer size and quality of the applicant pool enabled the dean of admissions and his staff, rather than the faculty, to define the terms of entry. The result was that classes were crafted to be outstanding in more than purely academic-intellectual terms. Intellectual superstars were a small group of near-certain admits. After that, a solid level of academic ability set an admissions floor, above which character, extracurricular activities, artistic or athletic talent, “legacy” status, and geographical diversity figured in the admissions gene pool. After the 1960s, diversity came to embrace race and gender. Chase Peterson, who was dean of admissions during the tumultuous years from 1967 to 1972, thought that during his time the criteria for selection broadened to include tenacity, perseverance, having learned something deeply and well, social generosity, intellectual openness, and strength of character. A statement on admissions desiderata in the 1990s included “honesty, fairness, compassion, altruism, leadership, and initiative” and stressed: “We place great value in a candidate’s capacity to move beyond the limits of personal achievement to involvement in the life of the community at large.” One of Dean of Admissions Wilbur Bender’s 1950s ideal admits, a “Scandinavian farm boy who skates beautifully,” had better have headed his local skating club or taught skating to inner-city youth if he hoped to get into Harvard at the century’s end.
Generalized Complaints
Authors: Wallace Daniel J. , Brock Wallace Janice
Published: November 2020

Fibromyalgia is a syndrome rather than a disease, and as such has a variety of features. Any part of the body can be involved, especially when fibromyalgia is induced or aggravated by multiple factors. This chapter will review some of the generalized complaints expressed by fibromyalgia patients and place them in perspective. One of the major problems fibromyalgia sufferers encounter is difficulty communicating how they really feel. Complaints can be subjective and hard to verify or quantify. They consist of symptoms, or expressions of what is bothersome, and signs. Physical signs are observed during a physical examination, such as a rash or an irregular heartbeat, and are easier to validate. Constitutional symptoms or signs are generalized and do not belong to any specific organ system or region of the body. Jane was an anthropology graduate student. In addition to carrying a full load of classes, she moonlighted as a waitress 20 hours a week. This pace was maintained until Jane caught what seemed to be a bad case of flu with a sore throat, runny nose, cough, fever, aching, fatigue, and swollen glands. Although most of her flu symptoms disappeared after several weeks, Jane never felt the same. The fatigue and aching became more pronounced, and Jane had to quit her waitressing job. She forced herself to go to class and was so exhausted that she spent most weekends in bed. Despite all of the bed rest, Jane never slept well and began noticing stiffness and spasm in her upper back and neck areas. The Student Health Service referred her to an internist, who ordered tests, all of which were normal. Jane now paces herself with rest periods alternating with active ones, avoids daytime sleeping, takes cyclobenzaprine (Flexeril) two hours before retiring at night, and engages in a general conditioning program. Even though Jane is still unable to work, at least she did not have to drop out of school. Fatigue is still a major problem, but its level of intensity seems to be slowly diminishing. As with Jane, generalized fatigue is a prominent feature of fibromyalgia.
Tingles, Shocks, Wires, and Neurologic Complaints
Authors: Wallace Daniel J. , Brock Wallace Janice
Published: November 2020

Even though headaches, sleep disorders, cognitive impairment, burning, numbness, and tingling are potentially debilitating features of fibromyalgia, very few patients first consult a neurologist when they develop what turn out to be fibromyalgia symptoms. It has become apparent that the central, peripheral, and autonomic nervous systems play a more important role in fibromyalgia than was previously thought. This section will focus on these complaints and what causes them. Colleen had a splitting headache. Her temples were throbbing, and she could barely concentrate. When Dr. Smith prescribed Fiorinal, not only did the headache disappear but some discomfort in her upper and lower back that she had never bothered to complain about did also. Over the next few months, Colleen needed Fiorinal almost daily. Whenever she stopped taking it, the headaches returned with a vengeance. Dr. Smith referred her to a neurologist, who diagnosed Colleen as having fibromyalgia with associated “muscular contraction tension headaches.” Colleen was told that the caffeine and barbiturate in Fiorinal helped her headaches in the short term but that continuous use resulted in “rebound” headaches from aspirin, caffeine, and barbiturate withdrawal. The neurologist stopped all her medication and helped Colleen “ride out” the withdrawal. She prescribed amitriptyline (Elavil) at bedtime for headache protection, and Colleen is now much improved. Most fibromyalgia patients complain of recurrent headaches. These headaches usually are one of two types: tension or migraine. Tension headaches are muscular contraction headaches. Patients describe these headaches as a dull “tight band around the head” similar to what they feel in other muscles of the body. A sustained muscle contraction can compress small vessels in the area. Tension headaches and migraines are often associated with low elevations of substance P levels and decreased serotonin levels, stress, and low cellular pH (a more acidic cellular environment). Tension headaches frequently involve the forehead, jaw, and temple areas. Occipital headaches, or pain in the upper part of the back of the neck, can be a type of tension headache and are associated with muscle spasm or stiffness. Osteoarthritis of the cervical spine can also cause occipital headaches.
Brainstorming
Authors: Ehrenfeld David
Published: November 2020

A number of years ago, I participated in a brainstorming session in Washington, D.C. Although not my first panel meeting, it was, nevertheless, the first that officially had been called a brainstorming session, and I was filled with nervous anticipation as my train pulled into Union Station the night before. The next morning my anxiety increased as I sat munching Danish and drinking decaf from a disposable paper cup in the posh conference room of the environmental organization that was cosponsoring the meeting with a federal environmental agency. What was brainstorming? Would I be able to do it? I had looked up “brainstorming” in The Oxford Modern English Dictionary back home in New Jersey. The first definition given was “a violent or excited outburst often as a result of a sudden mental disturbance.”This didn’t seem right. Nor did the second definition: “colloq. Mental confusion.” Not until I got to the fourth definition was there a glimmer of hope; it read, “A concerted intellectual treatment of a problem by discussing spontaneous ideas about it.” But I was still confused, mentally confused. What was a “spontaneous idea”—or, to put it another way, what was a non-spontaneous idea? How did a discussion of spontaneous ideas differ from an ordinary serious discussion? Hesitantly, I had concluded that a brainstorming session must produce more exciting and definitive results than a mere discussion. At first I was alone in the conference room, free to eat more than my share of Danish. Then a woman arrived. By her air of confidence and authority I knew instinctively that she was the chair of the session. We spoke, and I cleverly and casually turned the conversation to the topic of brainstorming, maneuvering to get some kind of clue about what was expected of me. But the audio technician (that’s what I discovered she actually was) was more interested in the subject of endangered species and in the technicalities of the recording system. No hope. Soon the room filled with august biologists and social scientists; I sank inconspicuously into my high-backed chair, trying to breathe softly and blend into the upholstery pattern.
Pseudocommunities
Authors: Ehrenfeld David
Published: November 2020

To begin with a little anecdote. There is a classroom, an ugly, badly shaped, windowless room in a modern university building designed with students not in mind. In this room there is a small class, my class. We have rearranged tables and chairs in a semicircle around my place to defy the terrible ambience and to allow all twenty-five students to see and hear each other and me. Class is in session; I am talking. Two students sitting together in the front row—a thirty-year-old man with a pager on his belt and a twenty-year-old woman—are speaking to each other and laughing quietly; they see that I am looking at them and they continue to laugh, not furtively or offensively but openly and engagingly, as if I weren’t there. I don’t know what they are laughing about. Both of these students will eventually receive an A in the course for their exceptionally fine work. As I speak to the class, a part of my mind is thinking about these students and wondering why they are laughing. Is there chalk on my face? Is my fly open? Have I repeated myself or unconsciously misused a word or inverted a phrase? Then I remember something Bruce Wilshire wrote, and the paranoia fades. The laughter has nothing to do with me. Bruce, a philosopher who works in a nearby building on campus, described the same attitude in his own classes in his book, The Moral Collapse of the University. This passive and casual rudeness, a fairly new phenomenon, has a simple cause, he said: “I sometimes see students looking at me as if they thought I could not see them, as if I were just somebody on their screen.” When my students were laughing, it didn’t occur to them that I would be bothered—at that moment they were treating me as if I were a face on television. That’s what it is; I am sure of it. The students (at least most of them) and I inhabit different worlds, even when we sit in the same room.