This scenario is generated in a 2024 study published in Knowledge Mobilization for Settlement, where researchers asked ChatGPT to generate an image of a refugee family in Canada and prompted it to consider ethnic background, integration barriers, and educational levels. Shockingly, it repeatedly depicted refugees as Muslim families, in particular from the Middle East and including women wearing hijabs. It also cited language as a primary integration barrier for these families. The prompts were tested multiple times to capture the AI’s understanding of diverse populations. The results were surprising, revealing a significant lack of nuanced understanding of diversity in the representations of refugee families.

This study also reveals ChatGPT’s disparities in job recommendations for newcomers between the Global North and the Global South. When asked about job prospects for individuals from five countries in the Global North and five from the Global South with the same amount of experience and using the same prompt, ChatGPT suggested lower-tier positions, such as administrative assistant, for those from the Global South, while recommending higher-tier roles, such as software developer, for applicants from the global north. This discrepancy extended to an average salary disparity of $20,000.

Generative AI uses predictive models to generate responses by drawing on historical data. These cases demonstrate how systemic biases and discrimination are ingrained in AI training. These biases are further compounded by language barriers, highlighting another critical area where AI fails to serve newcomers effectively. The study demonstrated how ChatGPT offers substantially less assistance to non-English speakers. Researchers tested it by prompting about opening a bank account in English and French, the two official languages of Canada. ChatGPT provided more detailed and interactive responses to the English prompt than to the French one. ChatGPT’s inconsistent responses across languages show a gap in linguistic support to newcomers in a bilingual country like Canada. For new immigrants who don’t speak English or French, such limitations could lead to inequitable access to critical information, underscoring the need for the development of robust multilingual AI tools.

As newcomers transition through the complex journey of settlement, they often face challenges along the way, including navigating job searches, adapting to a new culture, and facing language barriers in their country of residence. According to Statistics Canada, the unemployment rate for new immigrants living in Canada for less than five years is 12.6 per cent, which is significantly higher than the total unemployment rate of 6.4 per cent as of July 2024. To navigate their career path, newcomers and the settlement sector may turn to AI for immediate assistance. These findings underscore why Canada’s immigration sector must adopt a human-centred approach to AI in order to ensure that technology supports the integration of newcomers without reinforcing stereotypes and biases.

Immigration, Refugee, Citizenship Canada (IRCC) is increasingly applying generative AI and data analytics tools such as Chinook for faster and more effective service delivery in administrative tasks, such as summarizing profiles, triaging applications, and assigning officers based on the sensitivity of cases. Even though they do not involve AI in the final decision-making, any plan to expand the use of AI in providing assistance to immigration settlement requires careful consideration.

“AI tools should be responsive to the specific needs of newcomers that require human oversight in the loop. Every newcomer has a unique story, especially refugee cases, [which] are highly sensitive. AI often misses the nuanced understanding of cultural sensitivity and empathy essential for supporting the integration journeys of diverse newcomers,” says Darcy McCallum, CEO of Social Enterprise for Canada.

Echoing Darcy, Isar Nejadgholi, senior research scientist at the National Research Council of Canada, said, “Because of vulnerabilities and intersectionalities of demographics in this population, it’s very important to understand the specific needs and challenges diverse newcomers face in integration.”

For effective use of AI in immigration, the IRCC should work closely with the settlement sector and provincial governments while serving as the intermediary to newcomers. “Developing AI tools requires an agile, iterative and multidisciplinary approach. Technologists, the settlement sector, policymakers, and AI researchers need to collaborate starting from early stages of AI tools design and development. This collaboration ensures that these tools are reliable, user-centric, culturally sensitive and ethically aligned that meet both technical and user expectations. It requires long-term planning,” Isar added.

Another 2024 study, titled “Human-centred AI applications for Canada’s immigration settlement sector,” found that AI solutions benefit from a prototyping-first approach, allowing for early, iterative testing and refinement.

“Prototypes help identify design flaws early, saving time and resources in the long run,” Isar noted. Technologists play a pivotal role in developing these prototypes, which require hands-on testing and continuous refinement before widespread deployment. “Additionally, to align ethical standards with user needs, centralized government oversight is required that would establish data-sharing protocols, privacy safeguards, and regulatory frameworks,” Isar noted.

Isar further pointed out that AI cannot replace humans in immigration support; rather, this sector requires more humans to apply AI effectively in integrating immigrants, who are one of the biggest contributors to Canada’s economy. “Students should be involved in AI research, as they bring fresh perspectives,” Isar recommends.

One organization, Immigrant Networks, uses AI algorithms to pair newcomers with professional mentors based on shared interests, saving staff time while ensuring appropriate support. “A newcomer’s success depends on language, communication, digital, and networking skills. With the mentorship from Immigrant Networks, 70 per cent of mentees secured jobs within six months,” said Immigrant Network’s founder and CEO Nick Noorani. This approach underscores the importance of employing more humans to train immigrants where AI might fall short of meeting individual needs.

Promoting AI literacy among newcomers and the settlement sector is also essential. “Critical thinking and fact-checking are especially important when interacting with AI in a non-native language,” explained Isar. By understanding AI’s limitations, the literacy training may support newcomers and allow settlement staff to tailor prompts to achieve accurate, useful results.

Canada’s prosperity relies on the success of its immigrant communities. As Nick Noorani states, “Canada is built on immigration. If immigrants fail, Canada will fail.” With ethical design and a human-centred approach, AI can complement Canada’s immigration efforts, ensuring that each newcomer’s potential contributes to a stronger and more inclusive society.

The author is a graduate of the Max Bell School of Public Policy at McGill University.

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The notion that the internet had academic applications barely crossed my mind as a child. Sure, I learned things by surfing around on Internet Explorer (oh, the antiquated horrors), and I did search up answers on web browsers for some of my homework assignments. But the other possibilities just never really clicked for me back then.

So, come Grade 3 and my third- period “computer studies” class, you could colour me surprised. We were marched, single-file, to one of those big “computer labs” lined with rows of desks and those clunky, absurdly slow Windows desktops. This was before the Chromebook carts, mind you. If you wanted to access the internet at school, you went to the computer lab. You pressed the power button on the monitor, then the power button on the desktop if that didn’t work, then prayed that something would happen. With some luck, the computer would whir to life. Just as frequently, you would be stuck on a loading screen, watching the little white pixels twirling in a perpetual dance. Early 2010s school tech – what more is there to say?

Our teacher dressed more like the office IT guy than an elementary school teacher, with his dress shirts and square- framed glasses and oddly-timed jokes about obscure Albanian customs. We learned about Ctrl + Alt + Delete, about our student numbers and how we could use them to log onto school computers. We learned how to set passwords and download files and open our student Google accounts. Some of my classmates were ahead of the curve: I distinctly remember the boy next to me learning to code in Javascript on Khan Academy while the rest of us were still learning how to navigate the school website.

Soon thereafter, my teachers started using Google Classroom. Announcements and assignments were posted online. I typed up my homework in Google Docs, uploaded the file into the submission box and pressed that big bold “Submit” button with a slight sense of foreboding. Grades were returned online, and to this day I hesitate before viewing them.

By the time middle school rolled around, all of this had become second nature. I didn’t have to think twice to know that when you create a new account, you had to go into “settings” and check “site permissions” and “privacy,” to make sure things like “share data with third parties” and “location access” were off. For group projects, you shared documents with your group partners by either copying the link to the file or uploading it to the cloud. School clubs set up their own Google Classrooms to keep in touch and set deadlines. We played Kahoot in sex-ed class, hoping that our laughter could hide the embarrassment. “Google Classroom” started as a name mentioned carelessly in a stuffy computer lab, and ended up a staple of the academic experience by the time I graduated middle school.

High school made the virtual classroom into the core of the learning environment. In the pre-COVID-19 months, some of our teachers diverged from the Google Classroom equation and experimented with D2L Brightspace. D2L stood for “Desire 2 Learn,” a hippie name for a “cool and modern” learning platform, except that Brightspace’s sterile, brutalist layout stripped away any desire to learn instead of engaging me as advertised. Even now, opening up myCourses triggers a deep-seated nostalgia for those simpler bygone times, when you could access course content in an intuitively-displayed feed, instead of needing to click through ten gazillion tabs only to realize your teacher hadn’t made the content visible.

Then came the pandemic. If I still had any lingering doubts that virtual learning platforms would become an essential aspect of the modern classroom, COVID-19 beat them soundly out of my head. Without Google Classroom and Brightspace, there would have been nowhere to submit our work during the lockdown. Without Google Meet and Zoom, classes would have been restricted to notes and recordings, and teacher-student interaction would have fallen even below the dismal minimum it had already dropped to. The Internet made learning possible during the pandemic — made it possible for us to retain some degree of normalcy while the world was flipped upside down.

Isn’t it ironic? In my early schooling years, I never envisioned the Internet to play any significant role in school. A little less than a decade later, schooling only seems to be possible because of the Internet.

Nowadays, vestigial practices from the COVID-19 era remain central components of academic life. Missed a lecture? No problem: the professor probably made a recording. Have to organize a meeting with ten participants in different locations? No biggie – just set up a Zoom call and you’ll all be side by side on your screens. The internet is the most powerful tool of our time, and it’s been an enlightening and encouraging experience to see it shape our classrooms for the better.

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On behalf of The McGill Daily, I had the pleasure of speaking with Meghana Munipalle, VP Mentorship of Scientista and PhD candidate in Biological and Biomedical Engineering; and Annie Dang, a U1 Biology and Computer Science major. As a mentor-mentee pair and now research collaborators, they offer some insight into their personal experiences in STEM, including their takeaways from the mentorship program and advice for those considering a career in science.

This interview has been shortened and edited for clarity and concision.

Andrei Li for The McGill Daily (MD): What is Scientista?

Meghana Munipalle (MM): The Scientista Foundation is an international organization dedicated to building resources for women in STEM worldwide. They have chapters in many universities, including McGill. McGill has had a mentorship program for years. There are studies that show that in graduate education, they have less access to networking and other resources. There are many undergrad women who are interested in research. This is a way to meet people in the field, get research experience: for Annie, for instance, to get your foot in the door.

MD: What does the typical Scientista mentorship look like?

MM: We match undergrad students with grad and upper undergrad in their field of study/research area. We start at the beginning of the year. Generally, we’ll host career and professional or social events once a month, and also meet one-on-one with mentees once a month, but possibly more often depending on personal goals. This continues through to April, officially, but many mentors and mentees continue the connection beyond the end of the program. Mentees often ‘guide’ the direction of their mentorship based on their own needs and goals: for example, Annie and I have talked about course selection, study habits, research, grad school, time management, work-life balance, resume building, and everything in between!

MD: What is something you’ve learned, as a mentor for the program?

MM: I didn’t have these kinds of opportunities in my undergrad: I didn’t know what grad school was like until third year, and only started research when I met a prof whose research I was interested in. I didn’t have these kinds of go-tos like the mentors offered in this program. It’s interesting to see how quickly I found myself in this role. I am now a person who can leverage the experience and knowledge that I have to help someone else who wants to enter the field, and this was a bit of a “wow” moment for me. It’s an amazing feeling, to be in the position of a role model.

MD: Why Scientista? What brought you to the program?

Annie Dang (AD): I first heard about Scientista from the MBSU mailing list, and I was really interested in how it was focused on creating opportunities for women in STEM. I have definitely felt the discrimination against women in STEM: a vivid memory I have is of an elementary school teacher who talked about how girls were better at arts and humanities, while boys were good at math and science. I wanted to change that and meet like-minded women. I wanted to do biology since Grade 10, and have been interested in math since elementary school, though there used to be sort of a mental block that made me think I didn’t want to do math. In Grade 12, I discovered that there’s a computational biology program at McGill, and this interested me because I’ve only learned about biology and computer science separately, and I didn’t know what it meant to do a joint program. Many people I met were surprised that they were a combined major. Through the mentorship program, I was able to meet peers in upper years who were able to offer me advice and guidance.

MD: What goals did you have for the mentorship program? What impact has it had on your outlook?

AD: My two main goals were to, first, figure out what computational biology is. Since I’m in second year, I don’t have courses intersecting between biology and computer science, and I wanted to meet people to see what could be done in the field. Second, I wanted to unveil the world of academia. There’s a mystique around it: it’s difficult to find out what it looks like unless you reach out to the professors. What’s more important? Lab, networking, courses? What kind of skills should I prioritize? Statistical programming, anything else? Do I want to even do academia? When do I have to choose between industry and academia? From Meghana, I’ve learned that I don’t have to focus on the choice now, and that I should simply do what I want to do. I can choose to do a Master’s and then a PhD, then enter the industry if I want to. It’s important to do what you’re interested in, rather than selecting a path that would lead you to a good career.

MD: One moment that really stood out to you during the program, that you remember very vividly because it was special in some way?

AD: It was the realization that I don’t have to have it figured out right away. For instance, Meghana started in physics! I found out that many profs did something different in their undergrad than in their research. There was a time where I was considering pure math or computer science: I figured out that undergrad is the best time to find out what I want to do. For instance I’m considering a math minor! Initially, in bio[logy], I wanted to do ecology and evolution, but with Meghana’s supervisor, Professor Nicole Li-Jessen, I became invested in doing cell biology and tissue engineering research. There’s so much out there that I don’t know to like or dislike because I haven’t been exposed to it. I want to try as much of everything as possible, before I choose what field I want to focus on in the future.

MD: How did you first get interested in STEM?

MM: I got interested in STEM through astronomy and astrophysics. It was what pulled me into the world of science. In middle school, I watched every documentary about cosmology, space, physics. It was my first real experience of what I could do in science. Documentaries are a way to make science digestible and show scientists in action: different labs in different countries, collaboration between institutions. It was a moment where I thought “woah, this is something I want to do in my future!” I did some biology, math, and computer science in addition to my major, and I ended up branching out from where I started. You just don’t know how things will turn out.

AD: I actually wasn’t that interested in middle school. I started getting interested in Grade 10, when I had a biology teacher who used to be a neuroscientist. He pushed us to logically deduce and reason out answers, instead of giving them to us. Every time I learned a new logical process, it felt like my worldview was expanding. I feel that this is a better representation of the way science is done in academia than the rote memorization, cut and clean way it’s usually taught. I didn’t like science in elementary school because it’s taught like a series of disconnected facts; learning that science is done differently was what brought me to the field.

MD: What were the most fulfilling and the most challenging parts of your careers?

AD: The most challenging part was getting used to the feeling of not knowing what’s going on. When I started my research, I had no idea of what intervertebral discs were, I did have a bit of knowledge of stem cells, but I didn’t understand the articles or the technical terminology. When I had the chance, I spoke with more people in the lab and read more, and the more I learned, the more quickly I was able to continue learning. The one disparity between how things are taught and done in science is that in school, everything is learned in foundational steps. In research, they assume you have good background knowledge already. The higher you move up, the more you have to fend for yourself. You have to get used to not understanding everything.

The most fulfilling was studying damage and repair of the intervertebral disc. For me, it really felt incredible that I was going to help people with this research.

MM: The most challenging is an equal tie between [my] Master’s Thesis and PhD qualifying exam. The most fulfilling thing was getting involved in initiatives to help women in STEM. One person can’t change systemic issues, but there’s something beautiful in giving advice to one person, watching their worldview grow. For instance, helping Annie and working with her. I also love my research: problem-solving and programming. Some people might not like troubleshooting, but for me it’s like a puzzle. “What’s happening in this model? How can we translate facts in biology into code?”

MD: Any advice/wise words to dispense for people who may feel discouraged?

AD: One thing that’s really stuck with me, in an ironic way, is to not feel discouraged when you feel out of your depth, because that feeling never really goes away, no matter what level you’re at, be it as an undergraduate, masters student or professor. Even masters students and professors will feel out of their depth when talking to experts in fields other than their own. I have a friend who’s stressed that she doesn’t have background knowledge when she’s applying to research positions, but this is quite normal. In class, many of the things you learn have been discovered for hundreds of years, versus the niche and very modern things in research. Feeling out of your depth is a good feeling, because that means you’re putting yourself in an environment that pushes you to learn more.

MM: Two main things. The first is, the path to a career in STEM is not as linear as people or academic culture makes it out to be. I was not linear, nor was I a 4.0 GPA student in undergrad. Don’t think that just because you’re not perfect, you won’t get your foot in or you’ll never get into research. Undergrad is a chance to try things, to wet your feet. Second: to young women, queer people or people of colour, if you ever feel discouraged, there are many clubs and organizations and communities for you. Being part of these communities made me more confident in my voice and beliefs. Join these communities: they’re there for you. Go to networking events, reach out to profs and peers, etc.

AD: Often, there’s a feeling or obligation that you have to use your voice when you’re a minority, for activism. I don’t think anyone should feel obligated if they don’t want to. You’re already changing the landscape of the scientific community by being here.

To learn more about Scientista McGill, you can check out their website at scientistamcgill. wordpress.com.

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In addition to the US and Russia, both China and India have joined the space race in the last twenty years, with lunar probes that landed on the Moon, orbiters around Mars and even a separate space station in Earth orbit. Now, 50 years after the first Apollo mission, we are more poised than ever to return to the Moon and reach Mars within the next two decades.

Challenges of Space Exploration

That said, there still exist many major obstacles in the way of a potential manned mission to Mars and beyond, with the most significant limitation being the amount of time astronauts can spend in space. The human body is not designed to function in the microgravity of space. Time spent in such an environment leads to the degeneration of our muscles and bones and damage to our immune systems.

There is also the factor of psychological issues that can arise from being confined to a small space-faring capsule for long periods of time. In the case of a journey to Mars, astronauts will have to spend a minimum of 14 months in space for a two-way journey, assuming the fastest speeds achievable with our current chemical propulsion technology.

It stands to reason that the best way to remedy the issue of time is to make spacecraft that can travel faster. This is where nuclear powered engines come into play.

The Promise of Nuclear Engines

The human conquest of space is currently stuck in second gear due to our reliance on chemical propulsion systems. Chemical rocket engines work by combusting a liquid fuel and oxidizer (most often liquid oxygen) together, then shooting the resulting hot gas out of a nozzle. This emission pushes the rocket in the opposite direction, by Newton’s Third Law of action-reaction.

The speeds that can be achieved with chemical propulsion systems are limited by how much energy can be generated from a given mass of fuel. The operational efficiency of a rocket engine is indicated by a metric known as the “specific impulse”. Where the fuel efficiency of a car can be gauged in litres per kilometer, a rocket engine’s specific impulse measures how long a kilogram of fuel can last while providing a constant thrust of one Newton. Conventional chemical rocket engines can usually generate impulses up to 460 seconds.

Nuclear thermal engines are not too different in that they also work by expelling hot gas to generate thrust. The difference here lies in the type of fuel used. In nuclear engines, a type of gas, like hydrogen, flows over a nuclear reactor operating on fissile material like uranium-235 or plutonium. The process generates extreme heat (in the range of 2000 to 4000 degrees Kelvin), expanding the hydrogen gas and expelling it out of the engine’s nozzle at extremely high pressure, propelling the engine forward.

Because of the incredibly high temperatures achievable in a nuclear reaction, nuclear fuel engines can generate a higher specific impulse than any chemical combustion rocket. Nuclear engines are theoretically able to reach specific impulses of between 850 and 1000 seconds, which is twice the highest impulse attainable by a chemical rocket engine. Additionally, the pure hydrogen gas ejected from nuclear thermal engines is pure hydrogen, which is much lighter in mass per molecule than the waste generated by chemical engines, meaning it can achieve higher velocities – and by Newton’s Third Law, the higher the velocity of the ejected material, the higher the velocity that would be reached by the rocket.

The high energy density of nuclear fuel also means that less fuel needs to be carried by a nuclear-powered spacecraft compared to a chemically propelled one. This enables more efficient mass budgets and, in turn, faster travel times for future interplanetary missions. Reaching Mars on a nuclear spacecraft could take two weeks instead of the current seven months. Journeying to Jupiter, which could take up to ten years with a chemical propulsion system, could theoretically be done in only two with a nuclear rocket, which would finally put the gas giant within humanity’s reach.

Past and Future Prospects

Several nuclear rocket engines have already been tested so far. Between 1959 and 1973, a total of 23 engine tests were performed by the United States. The U.S. Department of Defense took the lead with its NERVA program (Nuclear Engines for Rocket Vehicle Applications). Researchers in the program were able to develop an engine which sustained a maximum impulse of 850 seconds for 90 minutes and achieved a maximum temperature of 2750 K. The NERVA program had a total cost of around 2 billion USD (about $6 per person in the U.S. at the time).

Newer projects for nuclear thermal engines, such as a 2023 DARPA-NASA joint contract and another independent endeavor by Lockheed Martin, are already under way. The costs for these projects are estimated to be between 10 and 20 billion USD (about $62 per person in the US). Despite the seemingly high price tags, investing in nuclear rockets could actually pay off in the long run in the form of reduced travel times for interplanetary journeys and reduced costs for the transport of materials to and from the Earth, such as shipments to the Moon for the construction of a future lunar base. 

At present, there are still several challenges standing in the way of building commercially viable nuclear engines. Building an engine able to withstand the extreme heat of a nuclear fission reaction, for instance, is a major challenge. The materials used to build Earth-bound nuclear reactors are difficult to transport and would be hard to use in space. This is compounded by the necessity of using chemical rockets to transport building materials into space, as igniting a nuclear engine on the Earth’s surface would be extremely dangerous.

Any nuclear spacecraft would also require extensive shielding to protect astronauts and electrical instruments on board from the nuclear radiation, adding to its mass budget. There is also the problem of public opinion around the idea of a nuclear reactor in orbit above our heads – nuclear accidents over the years (such as Chernobyl and Fukushima) have cast a pall of fear over the use of nuclear power which would undoubtedly carry on to the public perception of new nuclear-powered spacecraft.

Nonetheless, nuclear engines hold great potential for a new generation of spacecraft. Despite the current logistical challenges that persist, the technology to build nuclear- powered spacecraft is already well within our reach. The relevant engineering hurdles are expected to be overcome in the next 10 to 20 years. Thorough testing by reliable organizations and a strong enforcement of safety standards may be able to sway public opinion and interest in the use of nuclear energy in space. Nuclear propulsion could be vital for our forays into deep space, and I, for one, am excited for the engineering marvels we are likely to witness in the coming decades.

The post The New Frontier to Space? appeared first on The McGill Daily.

What we experience as solar eclipses are largely a cosmic accident. An eclipse occurs when observers on Earth perceive the Moon’s angular size to be roughly the same as the Sun’s, allowing the Moon to fully obscure the Sun from view. A total eclipse extinguishes daylight and can drop the ambient temperature by as much as 10°C.

If the Moon’s path about the Earth were contained in the orbital plane of the Sun – known as the ecliptic – we would expect to see a solar eclipse once every 28 days. The Moon’s orbit, however, does not stay in the ecliptic: a 5° offset between the two orbital planes guarantees that, more often than not, prospective eclipses wind up becoming disappointing near-misses. Because of this, total solar eclipses are incredibly rare, passing over any spot on the Earth only once every few centuries.
Because of their rarity, people have been fascinated by solar eclipses since the faintest beginnings of civilization. The word “eclipse” comes from the Greek ékleipsis, meaning “to abandon,” but the first recorded eclipses may have occurred much earlier, possibly as early as 3340 B.C.E.

It is dangerous to look directly at the Sun before totality – the moment at which the Moon completely obscures the Sun. Modern eclipse observers use special protective lenses, or solar filters, to block out the Sun’s rays. The filters are coated with materials that decrease the intensity of incoming light or, in some cases, block out all but a certain wavelength of light. With this equipment, even casual observers can stare safely at the Sun for extended periods of time and discern a variety of interesting phenomena. Often, coronal mass ejections, streaks of plasma cast from the surface of the Sun, can be faintly seen behind the shadow of the Moon.

During eclipses, scientists are allowed glimpses of astronomical phenomena that the brightness of our star would normally keep hidden. The 1919 total solar eclipse, for example, was used by Arthur Eddington and other astronomers to verify Einstein’s theory of general relativity: light from distant stars was slightly bent by the Sun’s enormous gravity, in line with Einstein’s predictions. Nowadays, astronomical research tends to focus on transit events occurring at other, more distant stars, rather than local eclipses. Here at McGill, researchers use eclipses in distant star systems to analyze the atmospheric composition of exoplanets, in order to determine whether they may be candidates for life outside the Solar System.

“When a planet passes in front of a star,” says Dr. Nicolas Cowan, Professor of Astrobiology at McGill, “its atmosphere appears bigger when viewed at different wavelengths of light, which can tell you what molecules are present in that atmosphere. Through this technique, we’ve already discovered lots of greenhouse gases in different atmospheres. Once we detect an atmosphere with, say, water vapour in it, then we can start to try really hard to see if we can detect other gases, like ozone or methane.”

This method, known as transit spectroscopy, will be applied to much of the data collected by the James Webb Space Telescope, but eclipses remain a unique opportunity for the public to make interesting observations much closer to Earth using simple equipment. As of March 18, municipal libraries across Montreal have begun distributing eclipse glasses, and the English Montreal School Board and LBPSB have announced that April 8 will be a pedagogical day, which means amateur astronomers of all ages will have ample time to watch the rare transit as it occurs. As part of the Eclipse Fair, several telescopes outfitted with solar filters will be set up at the downtown campus. There will also be a handful of smaller solar scopes, which reflect the light of the sun into a small viewing box and allow the Moon’s shadow to be viewed without risk.

Much of the equipment will be managed by graduate and undergraduate volunteers from the Trottier Space Institute and the Anna McPherson Observatory. “Students are heavily involved in the eclipse fair,” says Carolina Cruz-Vinaccia, Program Administrator at the Trottier Space Institute (TSI). “We couldn’t do anywhere near the amount of outreach that we currently do without them. They’re really passionate about communicating their work, and they want to make sure people know what’s going on at the university.”

Cruz-Vinaccia heads the Eclipse Task Force organizing events for the upcoming eclipse. Activities at the Fair will include a make-your-own pinhole camera station, a photo booth, and a Solar System Walk, where the planets will be arranged to scale from Roddick Gates to the McCall-McBain Arts Building. The Redpath Society, in collaboration with TSI, will be organizing a program on the cultural significance of eclipses throughout history and their effect on wildlife, while the Rare Books and Special Collections section of the McLennan Library will be displaying records of eclipses from antiquity. In the wider Montreal community, Space Explorers, a McGill student-led physics outreach program, will be holding workshops to teach elementary school students about what eclipses are and how they work in preparation for April 8.

“The idea is to give not only the McGill community, but the surrounding community the opportunity to experience this once-in-a-lifetime event together,” Cruz-Vinaccia says. “Anecdotally, people who’ve seen total eclipses before say that it’s quite a moving experience, and we feel that it would be something that’s better viewed together.”

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Ke had filed an application to allow Chen to travel with his children to China. The application included two cases as precedent: one in which a mother took her 7-year-old child to India for six weeks, and another where a mother’s application to travel with her 9-year-old child to China was approved. However it was soon discovered that these cases did not actually exist, and instead they had been fabricated by ChatGPT.

Allegedly, Ke asked ChatGPT to find relevant cases that could apply to her client’s circumstances. OpenAI’s chatbot generated three results, two of which Ke then used in the application. When lawyers of Nina Zhang, Chen’s ex-wife, were unable to locate the referenced cases, Ke realized her mistake. She attempted to withdraw the two cases and quietly provide a new list of real cases without informing the opposition. Zhang’s lawyers then demanded copies of the two original cases, leaving Ke no choice but to inform them expressly of her mistake. She wrote a letter acknowledging her actions, calling the error “serious” and expressing her regret. In an affidavit, Ke later admitted her “lack of knowledge” on the risks associated with using AI, saying it greatly embarrassed her to “[discover] that the cases were fictions.”

Justice David Masuhara, who presided over the case of Ke’s client, wrote in his ruling that “citing fake cases in court filings…is an abuse of process and is tantamount to making a false statement to the court,” going on to say that the improper use of AI could ultimately beget the miscarriage of justice. Masuhara mandated Ke to review her files and disclose if AI had been involved in any other materials she had submitted to the court.

Fraser MacLean, the lead counsel of Ke’s opposition, also emphasized the serious dangers of using AI-generated content: “what’s scary about these AI hallucinations is they’re not creating citations and summaries that are ambiguous, they look 100 per cent real.” He adds that it is important to be “vigilant” in verifying the validity of a legal citation.

Despite Masuhara finding Ke’s apology to be sincere, she will be held liable for the costs incurred by Zhang’s lawyers in remedying the confusion. The judge also acknowledged that she was suffering the effects of “significant negative publicity” following her misconduct. The Law Society of BC has also issued a warning to Ke affirming the ethical obligation for lawyers to ensure accuracy with the growing use of AI tools. In addition to incurring the debt of her opposition, Ke will also be facing an investigation from the Law Society of BC.

While Ke’s AI-generated content was removed before it could have any significant impact on court proceedings, this case underscores the ethical risks surrounding the use of AI in the legal field. Discussions are already being held around the importance of lawyers’ diligence when it comes to navigating AI tools in their work and the need for clear guidelines to prevent potential abuses of the process. Thompson Rivers University law librarian Michelle Terriss commented that this ruling sets a new precedent, indicating that “[these] issues are front and centre in the minds of the judiciary and that lawyers really can’t be making these mistakes.”

Lawyers have an ethical duty to acknowledge the risks and benefits that arise from the use of AI tools. But as the use of AI grows, new questions around its implementation in the legal field are beginning to emerge, including whether or not a lawyer can ethically bill a client for work that an AI tool performed or if using AI to handle court materials is a breach of confidentiality. The latter is especially concerning as most AI tools, including ChatGPT, do not guarantee the confidentiality of user inputs – in fact, OpenAI’s terms of service state that a user’s exchange with the program “may be reviewed” by OpenAI employees in order to improve the system, and that the responsibility of maintaining confidentiality lies with the users themselves.

While AI can provide significant improvements to tasks including electronic discovery, litigation analysis, and legal research, concerns persist about biases and prejudices in the system in addition to the potential for legal fabrication. Bias in AI technology is common and results from the training process of AI tools. For instance, Microsoft’s AI tool for text-based conversations with individuals was found to mirror discriminatory viewpoints that had been inputted in training conversations. These biases have already made it into the legal field, with a prominent example being the Correctional Offender Management Profiling for Alternative Sanctions (COMPAS) system, an AI algorithm many US judges used in making decisions regarding bail and sentencing. Investigations revealed that the system, in assessing whether or not a past offender would re-offend, was found to generate “false positives” for people of colour and “false negatives” for white people. The issue lies in the training of AI, as many are programmed to “quantify the world as it is right now, or as it has been in the past, and [to] continue to repeat that, because it’s more efficient,” says AI and robotics expert Professor Kristen Thomasen of UBC.

While the future of AI in the legal field and its ethical implications remain ambiguous, many legal and AI experts, including Professor Thomasen and Justice Masuhara, have weighed in, expressing their beliefs that an AI system could never “truly replace the work of a lawyer,” and that “generative AI is still no substitute for the professional expertise that the justice system requires of lawyers.”

The post Vancouver Lawyer’s Use of AI in Legal Proceedings Sparks Ethics Debate appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Soup and Science happens twice every academic year: once in the Fall term (usually late September), and once in the Winter term (usually January or February). Every day over the course of a week, five speakers — typically four professors and one undergraduate student from the Faculty of Science — give an overview of the aims and importance of their research work.

The talks, each lasting around five minutes, aim to provide brief but complete introductions of the speakers’ research to both current and prospective McGill students. They offer undergraduates an opportunity to interact directly with professors outside of class. Topics of the 37th Soup and Science talks ranged from evolutionary microbiology to bot detection, from drug synthesis and the development of quantum materials.

Following the lectures, audience members are challenged to a pop quiz on the topic of each presentation. Correct answers win the respondent a free “Faculty of Science” T-shirt. Afterward, soup is served for lunch — hence the “soup” in  Soup and Science — where students have the chance to mingle with the faculty, share their questions and discuss their interests. These discussions frequently end with offers for academic term or summer research projects.

Soup and Science was designed as a unique opportunity for students to meet their professors outside of the lecture hall. Science undergraduate programs often involve the successful completion of research projects, which take place either over the summer or during the academic term. For a first-time student researcher, searching for these positions can be daunting. This is where Soup and Science comes into play, with the aim to streamline this process by bringing professors and students together in a casual setting with more space for one-on-one conversations.

Rees Kassen, Professor of Evolutionary Biology and director of the Trottier Institute of Science and Public Policy, highlights the importance of promoting student-professor collaboration. He notes: “It’s hard for professors, in a lecture hall of 200 to 300 people, to interact with students. In my own research, I try to find ways to engage as many as possible. I hope to share my passion and get as many people as interested as possible.”

For newer students, Soup and Science also offers a window into the nature of research beyond the scope of their classes. Unlike cut-and-dry course content, real scientific investigations can be long and gritty, often requiring years of effort and a consistent process of trial and error to yield fruit.

“It’s really valuable for students to come and learn about science in a setting that is informal and welcoming,” says Grace Parish, an undergraduate researcher working at the Nguyen Lab in McGill’s Department of Microbiology and Immunology. She observes how “presentations are short, engaging, and accessible, helping students figure out what they might be interested in without getting them bogged down in the details.”

Contrary to departmental seminars which tend to involve faculty members and graduate students in specific fields of research, Soup and Science talks are geared toward introducing research to an audience with little to no expected background. The relatively relaxed tone of the event serves to spark the curiosity of students and faculty alike, engaging them in a way where they feel more free to learn.

“These presentations really show the different things people do across the Faculty of Science,” says John Stix, Professor in the Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences and Associate Dean of Research at McGill. He notes that while students are the main audience, the event is also of value to McGill professors as well. “[Researchers] tend to pigeonhole ourselves in our own fields, and we don’t know what people do across disciplines.”

Stix highlights the interdisciplinary benefits of Soup and Science in its ability to bring people from largely disparate fields, like geography and chemistry, together in the same room. For himself and many other professors, Soup and Science lectures also offer new perspectives on their own work in relation to other fields they are not necessarily familiar with. “Over time, people often find connections — an instrument, a computer program — between fields. The goal of Soup and Science is for both students and professors to get exposure to see the amazing work being done here at McGill.”

To learn more about Soup and Science, you can visit their website at www.mcgill.ca/science/research/undergraduate-research/soupscience, as well as view a selection of past talks on the McGill Science and McGill University YouTube channels.

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From January 19 to 21, the Canadian Conference for Undergraduate Women in Physics (CCUWiP) saw Canadian physics undergraduates grace the halls of McGill University and the Université de Montreal (UdeM). Over 100 delegates from underrepresented groups congregated to celebrate their accomplishments in physics and discuss an inclusive and fairer future for science.

Over three days, delegates partook in career panels, a grad school fair, and research project presentations – the usual fare at academic conferences. Student conferences have long served as meeting points for aspiring undergraduates to showcase their research and meet peers from other institutions. However, CCUWiP also served a third purpose: for delegates to share their experiences as coming from underrepresented groups in a traditionally white, Western, and male-dominated field. This shone through in the stories attendees brought to the table: tales from the many walks of life travelled by undergraduate participants.

CUWiP began in the US to “help undergraduate women continue in physics by providing them with an opportunity to experience a professional conference.” Organized by the American Physical Society and first hosted by the University of South California in 2008, they provided a unique venue for female undergraduate students in physics to meet other women in the field.

The first Canadian CUWiP was organized in 2014 by the Canadian Association of Physicists (CAP), which represents physicists across Canada. Coincidentally, this first conference was also held at McGill University by two of this year’s speakers: Dr. Brigitte Vachon, associate professor of physics at McGill; and Dr. Madison Rilling, executive director at Optonique and then-student in Joint Honours Mathematics and Physics.

This year, a decade later, physics undergraduates returned to Montreal to honour the gruelling work of undergraduate researchers and mark the progress made toward bridging the gender gap and other inequities in physics.

The Gender Divide in Physics

In physics, the gender gap is more of a gaping void. According to a 2021 analysis by Statistics Canada, women are 36.4 per cent less likely to enroll in a post-secondary STEM major than men. A 2023 report by the CAP found that women make up only 35.3 per cent of undergraduate physics majors across Canada: this figure sinks to an abysmal 22.9 per cent for doctoral students. This stands in stark contrast to other STEM fields. In chemistry, for instance, 40 per cent of students have historically been female-identifying. As a result of this gender stereotyping, many women are likely to leave or avoid entering physics careers entirely. 

“In my undergrad, there was a one-to-five girl-boy ratio in physics,” recounts McGill physics professor Bill Coish in an interview with the Daily. He notes that “the balance has improved quantifiably” though there is still progress to be made: “Conferences [like CCUWiP] are a good start. We need more outreach at an early stage […] for example, you can look at the work done by the Physics Outreach Committee at McGill.”

Early education, as Professor Coish points out, is one of the major hurdles to achieving gender parity in physics and other STEM fields. Gender discrimination in the education system represents a key factor in this imbalance. A 2020 study published in the Journal of Applied Developmental Psychology found that “Boys are more likely than girls to say that their own gender group ‘should’ be good at STEM.’’ Self-reinforcement of gender stereotypes throughout childhood, along with long-existing cultural and socioeconomic barriers against women, have long contributed to the gaping gender disparity in STEM fields.

This discrimination continues into the professional realm. Day two of CCUWiP saw astrophysicist Jocelyn Bell Burnell share her experiences as one of the first female graduate students in astronomy at the University of Cambridge. While working toward her PhD at Cambridge, Burnell discovered a series of periodic, localized blips from radio telescope data – signals she and her team would later identify as pulsars, a type of rapidly-spinning neutron stars. Despite her critical contributions, she was denied the 1974 Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery of pulsars, which was instead awarded to her supervisor, Anthony Hewish, and his colleague Martin Ryle.

Gender-based discrimination is systemic in physics, and has persisted before and since Burnell’s time as a graduate student. A cross-cultural study, published in Nature in 2020, showed that women communicating in STEM were frequently characterized as “bitchy,” “bossy,” and “emotional” by correspondents. These biases, the researchers concluded, indicate that women in STEM find themselves “in a more vulnerable position when communicating publicly about their work, which could have implications for them participating fully in their careers.” This research suggests that a deep, cultural restructuring of gender attitudes in academia is necessary in order to eliminate the gender gap in STEM.

For Ivanna Boras, an engineering physics major at Queens University, such attitudes are the daily reality of women in her department. “Our voices tend to be ignored,” she says. “As a result, we try to band together. Luckily, it’s gotten better during upper years.”

Vanessa Smith, Vice President of the Dalhousie Undergraduate Physics Council, says that at Dalhousie, “the undergraduate physics body has a 50-50 split, but there’s only one [fully tenured] female professor in the Department of Physics.” For her, this highlights the need for continued and sustained progress toward gender equality in physics.

A Safe Space to Share

For delegates, CCUWiP represents an open, non-judgmental space for them to voice their experiences with discrimination in physics, gendered or otherwise. It also provides a perfect venue to exchange ideas and stories – not just academic ideas, but also personal anecdotes of their journeys through the realm of physics.

Between keynotes and workshops, days two and three of CCUWiP also saw the much-anticipated oral and poster presentations. The poster presentations were laid out in a science fair-esque manner, with delegates free to move between posters and discuss each other’s work in an informal setting. Student research took centre stage, with the projects exhibited ranging from topics like improving wildfire prediction and the acoustics of the human ear, to exploring the exoplanets orbiting distant stars. Alongside research work, initiatives in science outreach and education were also featured, as well as projects geared toward equity, diversity and inclusion.

During coffee breaks, delegates had the chance to share personal stories in physics. Michaela Hishon, from the University of Guelph, reminisces: “What sparked [my passion] was the mentors I had growing up. My high school teacher majored in geophysics: she encouraged and inspired me to pursue my current work in medical physics and outreach.”

For some, CCUWiP was a chance to speak out about issues they cared about. Raina Irons, from the University of Toronto, Mississauga, took time to highlight the importance of “creating opportunities and funding for Indigenous students interested in physics and astronomy.” She notes how socioeconomic hurdles are especially high for aspiring Indigenous students in STEM.

Undergraduates also had the chance to learn about lesser-known, yet equally crucial, careers in physics. One keynote saw Dr. Rilling speak about her work in science policy: a field which aims to bring the interests of scientists to political stakeholders and achieve support for science on a governmental level.

To many, CCUWiP stands out from other conferences in the way it promotes collaboration over competitiveness. “CCUWiP fosters a sense of community,” says Leslie Moranta, a PhD student at the Institut Trottier de recherche sur les exoplanètes at UdeM. “Being a woman in STEM can often feel isolating, and CCUWiP is a place for us to share our stories.”

For many underrepresented groups, conferences like CCUWiP are a unique chance to meet like-minded peers, share their experiences and accomplishments, and open the next page to a new, more inclusive chapter in physics.

CCUWiP 2024 was organized by Audréanne Matte-Landry, Joël de Leon Mayeu, and Pénélope Glasman from Université de Montreal; and Olivia Pereira, Simone Têtu, Sloane Sirota, and Ruby Wei from McGill University.

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Now, according to a new Nature article, it could even usurp silicon as the most important element in all modern electronics, from smartphones to the most powerful supercomputers.

Researchers from the Tianjin International Center for Nanoparticles and Nanosystems at Tianjin University in China (TICNN), and the Georgia Institute of Technology in the US were able to make graphene behave as a semiconductor, a material that can alternate between conducting and blocking electricity.

Professor Ma Lei, team co- head and director of the TICNN, says that this breakthrough “can truly make graphene electronics practical in the future.”

In the last century, silicon proved quintessential to the development of modern electronics because of its ability to regulate the flow of electrons: stopping them or allowing them to pass like a traffic light.

All electronic devices are based on the motion of electrons, tiny, negatively-charged particles that swarm around an atom. Conductors allow electrons to move freely inside the material, while insulators prevent the electrons from moving at all. Semiconductors are special in that they can be “switched” to behave as either an insulator or a conductor.

Think of an atom as a kitchen cabinet. In atoms, electrons must stay within their shelves and can only move back and forth between them. Above the valence shell — the highest “shelf ” within the atom exists the conduction band, which allows electrons to flow between atoms. Imagine two cabinets side by side, with their tops sitting flush: the two units are effectively connected, allowing you to slide an object — your electron — from one cabinet onto the other.

In conductors, the valence band and the conduction band are linked (electrons can move freely to and over the top of both cabinets). In insulators, electrons cannot easily move out of their valence bands and into the conduction band (electrons are stuck in the shelves underneath).

In semiconductors, the valence and conduction bands have a narrow band gap. At low energy, the semiconductor behaves like an insulator: valence electrons cannot escape to the conduction band. However, if you inject energy (i.e. photons) into the atom, its electrons can easily jump onto the conduction band and begin moving between atoms, as in a conductor.

Graphene and other carbon- based materials have long been pursued as an alternative to silicon. The problem with graphene is that it is a perfect conductor: zero band gap with electrons freely travelling around, making it unsuitable for the same applications.

Research has since worked on synthesizing a graphene-based material which does exhibit
this band gap. In 2001 Walter de Heer, Regent’s Professor of Physics at Georgia Tech and co-head of the research team, proposed the possibility that epitaxial graphene, a type of graphene formed by heating silicon carbide crystals, could be used to construct this band gap. The first layer formed by this process, which still remains attached to the crystal, behaves as an insulator. In theory, if this first layer was extracted and then overlaid onto a second sheet of regular, conducting epigraphene, the resulting material would behave as a semiconductor.

Picture leaping over a puddle of mud: with enough speed, you could avoid the slow trudge across the insulating layer and simply jump across.

Over the next two decades, de Heer’s team at Georgia Tech worked with nanoscience researchers at Tianjin University to refine this production technique. A major hurdle was low quality of epigraphene: the insulating layers produced were riddled with imperfections. To resolve this, the researchers employed “quasi- equilibrium annealing,” baking the silicon carbide crystals at a precise series of temperatures to produce a smooth insulating layer. Now, for the first time, scientists were able to implant the band gap in graphene, by welding the insulating and conducting layers together.

“The reason our research is valued is that it can truly make graphene electronics practical in the future and remove the biggest obstacle [to its commercialization],” explains Ma. However, he cautions that graphene still needs to undergo further testing and commercialization: it might take 10- 15 years for it to be able to compete with silicon in the industry.

In addition to replacing silicon, the advent of graphene-based chips would transform all of modern electronics. Graphene is able to conduct electrons along its edges, allowing future chips to no longer contain metal wires. Moreover, the average distance travelled by electrons through graphene is several times the distance in silicon. This allows the electrons to exhibit quantum properties like interference, which has crucial applications in quantum computing.

“To me, this is like a Wright brothers moment,” says de Heer. He notes that planes were “the beginning of a technology that can take people across oceans,” and that the same could happen with graphene-based electronics.

The post Silicon or Graphene? appeared first on The McGill Daily.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Andrei Li for The McGill Daily (MD): Tell me a bit about yourselves. How did you become interested in neurophysiology and education?

Phoenix and Aidan (P&A): Our names are Phoenix and Aidan and we are the co-founders of the ThinkSci Outreach Program. We became interested in neurophysiology as I [Phoenix] study physiology and Aidan studies biochemistry. Aidan and I met when we took our first Intro to Physiology course together three years ago.

I’d say we both geeked out over neurophysiology together through that course and then both took courses throughout our degrees to learn more about it and the applications of neuroscience. We’ve both taught in different settings, I [Phoenix] personally have varied experiences from coaching to teaching. Pedagogy has just been something I’ve always loved, been interested in, and studied.

MD: How did you come up with the idea of the workshops?

P&A: In starting ThinkSci, our main mission was to empower youth from underrepresented groups to pursue undergraduate and graduate careers in physiology and STEM at large. When developing our workshops, we aimed to leverage our experiences on both sides of the coin, as both teachers and learners. We wanted them to be fun, engaging, and for students to leave the workshop feeling empowered, that they could see themselves doing that same work in the future! In our workshops, we use the SpikerBox: a bioamplifier and interactive learning tool to visualize neurological signals on your phone and laptop. This tool was developed with the goal of making learning about neuroscience more accessible to a younger demographic of students, since often, the cost of high-level neurological tools limits accessibility.

Aidan and I reflected on the lack of accessibility in our former high schools when it came to innovative tools used to engage students in science. This is when we decided to start ThinkSci: to introduce the Spikerbox in high schools to provide the opportunity to learn about neuroscience to a more diverse set of students.

MD: Could you give me a rundown of what the average workshop day looks like?

P&A: The workshop is designed for a group of roughly 40 students. The facilitators act as “ER doctors” presenting three patient cases and ask participants to study each patient’s condition. Students are expected to step into the shoes of neurophysiologists: to use the tools found at their stations to design experiments, make hypotheses, and draw conclusions. Students get to work in groups of six, with mentors available for guidance throughout the workshop.

In the workshop, the main tool we provide students is the SpikerBox. As an example, one of the patients has hypoxia – lack of oxygen – caused by a blood clot. Students then design an experiment to visualize how the brain sends signals to the rest of the body in hypoxic versus normal conditions.
The tissues used in the workshop are crickets and cockroaches. In the workshop, we walk students through all steps of preparation: cockroach anesthesia, leg preparation, along with a discussion on the ethics of using live tissue for science.

We end with a final discussion where we share knowledge and experience on the lack of representation amongst certain communities in STEM. Students are encouraged to share their first-hand experiences with the facilitators and outreach mentors. Not only do we offer students the possibility to see themselves becoming neurophysiologists in the future, we also validate their current and past experiences in confronting inequality, lack of accessibility, and underrepresentation by providing a safe space for them to share. We hope their experience in our workshop provides them with the tools and resources necessary to advocate for themselves throughout their journey and build a community of support.

MD: What was the most challenging part of starting ThinkSci?

P: Managing the many hats we had on. From recruiting, to teaching, to funding, I would say all of our combined skills are being put to use. As two undergraduate students, it was definitely an endeavour to try to convince organizations and institutions to fund our initiative with little to no proof anything would come of it. But with just the right amount of will and some really awesome investors, anything is possible. We are so grateful to be funded by both the Canadian Association of Neuroscience and the Quebec Bio-Imaging Network.

MD: What has been the most rewarding part?

P: The most rewarding part has to be the workshops themselves. Seeing and interacting with young scientists, seeing the lightbulb go off when they learn something new and guiding them through problem-solving in the workshop.

Chloe (C): Getting to see the four or five students that stayed back after the presentation to ask questions and just talk to us about our own projects was extremely rewarding, since we could see that they really found an interest in neurophysiology.

MD: How do you hope to develop ThinkSci in the future?

P&A: In ThinkSci’s first year, we’re really focused on creating a knowledge-sharing hub of individuals from all walks of life, at all stages in their careers, passionate about neurophysiology, pedagogy and equitable access in STEM. Currently, we operate in Montreal and Ottawa. In the next few years, we hope to reach even more youth.

We hope to expand our reach to more schools and institutions in both cities, and to more locations across the country, including Indigenous and remote communities. I have faith in the awesome team we have this year: we’re constantly adapting our initiatives to the needs of the communities we work with.

MD: What advice would you give to youth who want to go into the health sciences and/or STEM?

P: Never forget why you’re pursuing your goals. Taking a pause to reflect on the “why” or “how” has always helped me refocus. It was important for me, as a first step to acknowledge the obstacles I faced through my journey. But it’s even more important to remind myself why I aspire to do what I aim to, as this gives me the strength to keep pushing.

Allow yourself to let these goals change and evolve over time. Don’t see this as “giving up,” but rather an opportunity for growth.

C: I’ve found a lot of more experienced students here to emulate as I go through university. Thinking about what they would do in certain situations or how they would approach certain opportunities has really helped me achieve my goals. I believe ThinkSci does this for a lot of students as well, since the organization really works to connect mentors and their students on a personal level. Students can really see themselves in their mentors.

To learn more about ThinkSci, and their programs you can follow their Instagram at @thinkscioutreach, and learn more about their work at can-acn.org/thinksci-outreach-program-wins-a-can-advocacy-award/.

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Suddenly your morning trip to Starbucks is a lot less ordinary. Everyone, from the cashier to the bus driver to the receptionist and your boss, are all talking about what they believe the aliens from planet Xorg look like. Finding life outside of Earth has always been one of the most captivating pursuits in science. As a space scientist myself, I can attest to the fact that the question of alien life will come up without fail in any given public talk related to astronomy.

Recently, it seemed as though internet publications had beaten scientists to the punch with announcements that evidence of life had been found in the Exoplanet K2-18 b. This came as quite a surprise to the scientists who had published their findings about this planet but had no recollection of telling the media that they had confirmed the existence of extra terrestrials.

What happened was that some of the conclusions of their published findings were spun into very misleading headlines. They did, however, prove to be quite effective in terms of how many people clicked on those articles online.

Such misrepresentations of science in the media, especially online media, have been happening more frequently in the last ten years. The business model of high engagement equals higher profits has created an online media ecosystem that thrives on sensationalizing scientific findings. By sensationalizing I mean that a lot of facts are distorted to attract more readers.

For context, what exactly is this planet K2-18 b? It is a planet that is two and a half times as wide and eight times as massive as Earth. It orbits a small red dwarf star at a distance of 124 light years from our solar system. K2-18 b has half the Earth’s density, suggesting the existence of light material such as water and ice on the planet. Furthermore, the planet was found to orbit near the habitable zone of the system, which fuelled speculation on whether K2-18 b could harbour life. Discoveries such as the evidence of water vapour and hydrogen gas in its atmosphere by the Hubble Space Telescope presented this world as a Hycean world candidate (a planet with a hydrogen atmosphere and a global ocean).

This wasn’t the first time that planet K2-18 b made an appearance in the media as a flag bearer for fake alien life. The same happened when this planet was discovered in 2015 and several online publications described it as a planet with a global ocean. While the idea that K2-18 b could potentially have water was proposed based on the density of the planet, the astronomers who studied this world simply mentioned it as one of many possible conclusions to their observations.

Similarly, in September of this year, spectral data from the NIRISS instrument of the James Webb Space Telescope showed evidence of methane, carbon dioxide, and hints of dimethyl sulfide (DMS) on K2-18 b. Among these, DMS was predicted to be a potential biomarker, but the data was not strong enough to say that the DMS came from life. The conclusions of the paper on these findings, which appeared as a letter in the Astrophysical Journal, were that DMS might be present in the atmosphere of K2-18 b but that it would require much more data to confirm. While the possibility of the origin of DMS being biological was brought up, considering it a certainty would have been scientific malpractice.

Several news outlets, however, spun these findings in a different light. USA Today led with the headline “NASA says Exoplanet named K2-18 b could harbor life.” CNET had the headline “Webb finds potentially habitable planet might be an ocean world,” while The Guardian sounded off the headline “NASA says distant Exoplanet could have rare water ocean and possible hints of life.” Many of these articles cherry-picked findings from these studies while omitting the researchers’ words of caution. One might argue that sensationalizing science will get more engagement from the public. But researchers would say that they still observe strong public engagement without having to exaggerate scientific results. When it comes to news, simply announcing findings as they are is the best course of action.

Over time, media exaggeration of science erodes the public trust in science and scientific institutions. It is the collective responsibility of researchers and the media to ensure clear communication between science and the public.

The post Science Sensationalism in the Media Damages Trust appeared first on The McGill Daily.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Andrei Li for The McGill Daily (MD): Could you tell me more about the Space Generation Advisory Council?

Sobia Nadeem (SN): SGAC is an international organization made up of young space technology professionals. It’s free to become a member, and you can get more involved by applying to project groups: sustainable policy, aerospace research, etc. Several of our working groups have the opportunity to present at the UN Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space [COPUOS]. People involved in SGAC also regularly publish their work at conferences, such as the International Astronautical Congress. The SGAC gives you the insight and ability to contribute to space technology at an earlier stage of your career.

MD: Could you tell me more about the history of how this hackathon came about?

SN: The hackathon falls under the umbrella of our Giant Leap Initiative for gender equality in STEM. Our event is just before the UN Office for Outer Space Affairs [UNOOSA] Space4Women conference happening this week in Montreal. The hackathon is not directly affiliated with the conference, but it does give a taste of what it’ll talk about. In our hackathon, students get exposure to outer space and space exploration under the hackathon theme: this year, supporting women and gender minorities in remote communities.

Yulia Akisheva (YA): The idea started with a conference in Toulouse, France, with a local event focused on women in space. We built on that event — published articles, did outreach, kept in touch with the space community — and we ended up going to South Korea in 2022. Our mission was inspired by The Moment of Lift by Melinda Gates: empowering women to shape their own futures. The hackathon is only one of our many projects that focus on this topic.

Nathan Schilling (NS): The hackathon grew out of the UN Sustainable Development Goals, particularly in eliminating the gender gap in science. We’re focused on getting more women into space, into STEM, and using space tech to support women worldwide. Our first hackathon, in Daejeon, South Korea, ended with the winning team being able to propose an idea and actually begin to commercialize it. Our overall goal is to get more women, minorities, and youth into STEM.

MD: Broadly, what are the objectives of the Our Giant Leap Hackathon?

NS: Our objectives are twofold. First, to get teams to find solutions to the gender gap through space technologies. This year, we’re looking at leveraging space technologies to support remote communities worldwide. Second, to get career developments for hackers — networking with mentors, industry specialists, and fellow hackers. We’re really invested in the international dimension — getting hackers connected and fostering opportunities for global collaboration.

MD: How did you, personally, get involved with the SGAC?

SN: I was previously a director for SEDS [Students for the Exploration and Development of Space]. I loved the work I was doing, but I wanted to have a greater impact on the international scale, and SGAC gave me that opportunity.

NS: My ex-girlfriend faced a lot of sexism in the space industry, and I really felt a need to address this issue. When I learned of the SGAC and the hackathon, I thought: here’s an opportunity to work on an issue I care about.

MD: What were the most challenging aspects of organizing this hackathon? The most rewarding?

NS: The most challenging part of this was adjusting to Montreal. I work in logistics, and there was a disparity between previous, structured events where you knew where everyone would go to lunch, for instance, and this new event of the hackathon, which is less structured and has more uncertainty, in a new city for me. The most rewarding part was serving breakfast, serving lunch, getting to meet all these talented hackers: helping people with small actions.

SN: I previously organized events for the Canadian space sector — it was really familiar and I knew the lay of the land when it came to reaching out to Canadian professionals. In SGAC, I had a very different experience on the international team, so it’s been a challenge and a learning experience. This hackathon has been very rewarding, especially with attracting an international audience, we even have a team participating from the European Space Agency. It was very fruitful to showcase the Canadian space sector to international teams.

People don’t think too much about Canada when it comes to space. It’s unfortunate, because at conferences we stick together and are really tight-knit. It’s great having people come to our turf. Everyone is very supportive, and it’s really easy to build new bonds.

MD: What advice would you have for youth who want to get into STEM, but aren’t sure how they would want to?

YA: Join a network, go to events, and talk to people. Don’t hesitate to reach out in a meaningful way to people you are inspired by. The SGAC is a good resource: we’re the largest group of young space professionals globally, affiliated with the UN, with 160 countries represented through 25,000 members. You will be able to find someone, whether it be a sponsor or a mentor: it’s much easier than it seems. Do a project — hackathon, design competition, building a model rocket, anything.

SN: One thing that’s really daunting is that in STEM, there might not seem to be many role models you relate to. Echoing what Yulia said, it’s very important to reach out, find people who have walked your paths in life and share your perspectives. I got into space through mentorship; I failed two of my courses in my first year and put a lot of unnecessary pressure on myself. Through support, I discovered that school is just a tool to get you where you want to be. Failure is another part of life: use it to get you where you want to be. You don’t have to be at the top of your class to succeed.

NS: First, find people who you can connect with in terms of interests and identity. Reach out! Don’t be afraid to cold call, cold email, cold connect through Linkedin and so on. It’s really easy nowadays with technology. Be genuine with your passion, show that you care, and ask for advice. Often, you’ll have a long-term partnership develop. Courses aren’t everything — getting straight As isn’t enough. You’ll get more mileage by joining projects, doing research, and getting hands-on experience in the fields you want to work in. Get exposure and experience, because in the end, that’s the most important part.

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Such everyday euphemisms come from a tech sector dominated by a handful of powerful companies collectively known as “Big Tech.” However, their dominance might be at risk. Last month, the United States saw the beginning of two legal battles that could permanently reshape the tech landscape into one without Big Tech monopolies.

On September 12, a long-awaited trial began against Google in Washington District Court. Filed by the US Department of Justice (DOJ), it purported that Google had deliberately blocked smaller companies from competing in the search engine industry.

Two weeks later, on September 26, a joint suit was filed against Amazon by the Federal Trade Commission (FTC) – the US agency responsible for market fairness – and several state attorneys.

Both legal cases claim that the two key Silicon Valley companies – pillars of the US tech landscape – abused their power to maintain near-total control over the online shopping and search engine industries.

These two legal challenges are the largest against the American tech sector in the last 20 years, comparable only to the landmark case against Microsoft two decades ago. In 2001, Microsoft agreed with US regulators to allow users to download and operate non-Microsoft programs, like Java, on Windows PCs.

If either case is settled favourably for prosecutors, the victory could signal a weakening of Big Tech’s long growing power over the tech industry. Ultimately, they might herald the dismantlement of Silicon Valley’s griphold on the tech industry. Elettra Bietti, an associate professor at the Northeastern University School of Law, sees this as greater public inclination for “more proactive enforcement against Big Tech.”

The US government’s actions come at a time of unprecedented Big Tech influence over not only the tech sector, but the world economy as a whole. According to Investopedia, seven out of the ten largest companies in the world (by market cap) are American tech companies.

In turn, Big Tech companies have near-complete control of their respective industries. Amazon dominates American online retail with 37.8 per cent of total sales, while Google accounts for 83.5 per cent of the global search engine market.

Silicon Valley companies’ supremacy has created a perfect breeding ground for monopolistic practices. The DOJ alleges that Alphabet, which owns Google, spends billions every year on ensuring Google is the default search engine used by its business partners, such as in Apple devices. Such practices are exclusionary, and are aimed at preventing smaller search engines from gaining users, argues the DOJ.

Similarly, the FTC claimed that Amazon has used its “monopoly power to inflate prices, degrade quality, and stifle innovation for consumers and businesses.” In 2021, the Biden administration appointed Lina Khan, a prominent critic of Big Tech and particularly of Amazon, as the new chair of the FTC. While still a law student, Khan was notable for publishing an influential paper arguing Amazon’s pricing practices were anticompetitive, squeezing small businesses out of the online market by limiting their profitability.

The US government’s moves come late into a tech economy dominated by large corporations. Since the Microsoft case, little action has been taken against the takeover of fledgling tech sectors by established companies. Some have attributed this to the US government’s inability to adapt to the rapidly-evolving tech industry. Others have argued that the federal government’s policy of corporate deregulation, a philosophy passed down from the Reagan era, is the primary reason for the slew of big corporation takeovers, both in Silicon Valley and in other industries.

Globally, the US still remains behind many other countries in holding tech companies in check. Just this summer, the EU won $1.3 billion USD in compensation from Meta for transferring European user data to the US, in breach of EU data privacy laws. And in 2021, online retail giant Alibaba was fined a record $2.8 billion USD by Chinese regulators for abusing merchants with its monopoly powers.

Nonetheless, the current actions of the US government  are likely to come as a relief to smaller companies and consumers alike. In the past, antitrust lawsuits put forward by private plaintiffs have often been rejected by federal judges. A notable example is Epic Games’ 2020 lawsuit against Apple’s 30 per cent commission on web store products, which was thrown out on the grounds of insufficient wrongdoing by Apple. For Eleanor Fox, a law professor at New York University, private suits are often viewed as petty by judges, and are not taken seriously.

Now that the US government is stepping up to confront the monopolised tech sector, it remains to be seen whether the hold tech monopolies have over our lives will be weakened or not. Only time will tell if the US will rein back the juggernaut of Big Tech.

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Current superconductors need to be cooled to close to absolute zero (-273°C). This requires bulky and highly expensive equipment. Niobium-titanium alloy, the superconductor used in high-speed maglev trains, requires temperatures of just 11°C.

The existence of any room-temperature superconductor would revolutionize nearly all modern technology. In power grids, room-temperature superconductors would save up to seven per cent more power while taking up less space than traditional metal wires, both considerable gains on a global scale. They would allow for electric motors with near-perfect efficiency. They would make quantum computers not just scientists’ toys but products accessible to all.

So when, in July, a team of South Korean scientists claimed the creation of a room-temperature superconductor using everyday materials, the viral frenzy was all too predictable.

In its name, “LK-99” signifies a promise. Short for “Lee Kim 1999” — named after lead researchers Lee Sukbae and Kim Ji-Hoon and the year they started this project — LK-99 is a testament to the time and work poured into making a dream come true. 

Alex Kaplan, a Princeton graduate, was one of the first to break the news. His tweet amassed millions of views in the following days, accelerating the growing online hype. Seasoned researchers and amateurs alike raced to replicate LK-99’s incredible properties. Videos of floating rocks quickly flooded the Internet, purporting successes at demonstrating LK-99’s esoteric properties. Tech entrepreneurs rallied their followers toward investing in this “new big thing.” Tech stocks soared while memes and Reddit discussions spread as freely as electrons in a superconductor. 

LK-99 became the equivalent of the sci-tech community’s new Taylor Swift album. It became the trend that everyone — from the average Joe to the Silicon Valley mogul — was buzzing about. 

“On the other hand, reactions from the scientific community were more subdued. Researchers in the field treated the results with natural skepticism. Historically, many supposed “room-temperature superconductors” had already been synthesized through the years, only for their findings to be questioned after careful review. Issues with data accuracy disqualified most such findings. Academic misconduct also tainted the playing field far before LK-99 came along. 

Crucially, LK-99 also failed to exhibit the  Meissner effect, a critical test for true superconductivity. When a substance begins superconducting, any magnetic field will be expelled: this causes, for instance, the characteristic floating above a regular magnet seen in popular science displays. LK-99 was found, by researchers from Nanjing University, to not display the Meissner effect.

Still, the hype continued. A disconnect widened between rigorous science and the general public. On one side stood the more likely reality: that LK-99 was yet another dead end, and the search for a room-temperature superconductor was far from over. On the other loomed the well-intentioned but misguided notion that somehow LK-99 would be the “eureka” moment of our time.

Fuelling these misconceptions, more than for previous room-temperature superconductors, were those Silicon Valley entrepreneurs, afraid of stagnation and all too happy to jump on the bandwagon if it might stave off the current boom-and-bust cycle.

Gradually, as researchers failed over and over again to reproduce the South Korean group’s results, the body of evidence grew against LK-99’s status as the first-ever room-temperature superconductor. Researchers realized that many of LK-99’s properties, including the floating rock videos, were the result of normal ferromagnetism.

Other issues began appearing. Complaints were put forward by the work’s co-authors, purporting that the paper had been put forward for publication without their consent. At the time of writing, these allegations are still under investigation. 

In the end, LK-99 didn’t become the shining arrow pointing to a new era of technology. It failed on the promise in its name, was hijacked by sharp-smelled tech execs, and exposed a lack of scientific understanding in the general public . Its saga shines light on the growing divide between the unforgiving truths of scientific progress, and its oversimplified interpretation in pop culture. 

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I was first initiated into the world of personality tests as a teenager. Around the same time I was exploring my sexuality, other identifying markers became available to me – namely, the microlabels assigned to me by quizzes on the internet. First, lauded by zealous middle school teachers, there was a quiz to discover our learning types, which was a product of the paid platform Career Cruising. The assessment was called Learning Styles Inventory, and it consisted of a mere 20 questions to determine whether we were visual, auditory, or tactile learners. A few months later, our class did a Myers-Briggs test. As a lover of systems, the acronyms and neat classifications were a welcome mindframe to me. 

The draw toward self-exploration was a healthy impulse. Especially as young adults, there are a lot of unkowns one has to grapple with: Who are you? Who do you identify with? Who is your community? 

The potentially destructive facet is the advice that is given as a consequence. The learning type quiz dictates which educational environment you will thrive in. The Myers-Briggs test identifies supposed flaws in your personality. There is also the Big Five Personality Test, which claims to identify your openness, conscientiousness, agreeableness, extraversion, and neuroticism. Another popular personality test, Enneagram, has a focus on self-improvement, meaning you are expected to rehabilitate your personality based on your results. 

Advice that is anything other than individual is doomed to ignore traits – or combinations of traits – that are unique to a person. These tests also work on an assumption that we can accurately interpret possibly unclear questions and that we are able to accurately identify some pretty sweeping personality traits in ourselves. 

Take a look at the Learning Styles Inventory, for example. The question, “If learning to cook, I would rather: a) follow written recipes; b) create my own recipes, tasting as I cook; or c) be told how to cook” simplifies an activity with dozens of factors. For instance, the answer will change based on experience with cooking, and it is hard to answer if someone has no cooking experience at all. The question, “I find it easiest to remember: a) names; b) things I have done; or c) faces” is simply baffling, especially given that option b) can encompass all of human memory. Even ignoring the possible confusions in these questions, they point to superficial qualities in a person and assign them undue importance. At best, the Learning Styles Inventory is a frivolous introduction to learning styles, but the corresponding study tips imply that the Inventory tries to take itself seriously. There is no information on the Career Cruising website concerning the reasoning behind the questions. 

The Big Five test is a more comprehensive questionnaire, allowing you to do a 300-question personality test. Although I imagine these results could be quite specific to the person, spending so much time self-analyzing can become unhealthy. It is a way of thinking about identity that is divorced from the community around you. With 300 questions, trivial subjects surface. The effect of “I love action” or “I go straight for the goal” on any of the Big Five traits is never explained. The calculations behind the results are a black box, and there is no way to discern how the test uses the data it collects to form its conclusions. While the Big Five test was created by psychologists with the backing of evidence, some online assessments have been revealed to produce sexist results – ranking women as more disagreeable than men for the same traits depending on what gender one self-identifies as. This is because results are shown in comparing other test-takers with the same gender.

The Enneagram test attempts the most ambitious stab at your personhood. According to the website Truity, the Enneagram identifies a core belief that “drives your deepest motivations and fears — and fundamentally shapes a person’s worldview and the perspective through which they see the world and the people around them.” The framework is self-confident, but Professor Sanjay Srivastava of the Department of Psychology at the University of Oregon points out the lack of evidence and scientific theory behind the test. The fact that Enneagram does not acknowledge the lack of scientific background suggests that it is a commercial rather than evidence-based model.

Myers-Briggs has accrued credibility by basing the test off of psychologist Carl Jung, and approximately 3.5 million tests are administered each year. Despite the confidence in Myers-Briggs, it lacks empirical evidence to support the veracity of claims to capture someone’s personality. In an interview between a University of Wharton journal and Merve Emre, an associate professor of English at Oxford University, Emre claims 50 per cent of people who take the test receive different results a second time. Emre also points out that when participants disagree with their results in workplace evaluations, they are often told by MBTI test administrators that they’re not interpreting the results correctly. 

If anything, these tests are able to  monitor our perception of ourselves – a very subjective experience that concrete questions can never fully account for. 

Yet another flaw is that these tests are static. They record a moment in time, while our experiences in life are constantly shaping how we interact in the world. Another pitfall is confirmation bias, a phenomenon where we are more likely to believe evidence that supports our existing beliefs. Thus, when we receive results that validate our opinions of ourselves, we may accept them without enough critical consideration. 

Finally, many of these personality tests cater to a specific audience – they are not universal. This was recently found in a study on the Big Five Test: a translated version of the test was given to a small South American tribe, and the results did not cluster into the expected five types. Not only do the tests lose accuracy when applied across various demographics, but they also reflect a rigid interpretation of personality. To put stock into such models limits our perceptions of people through a Western gaze.  

Although I can understand the temptation to neatly classify a chaotic assortment of values and quirks, I am learning to embrace the ways humans are unable to be described in a paragraph. I am also learning to describe myself based on the actions I do for others and the way I react to real-life experiences, rather than trying to extrapolate meaning from vague statements such as “I am always prepared” (the Big Five). Although I will keep doing personality tests for fun, I will no longer be putting stock in them. 

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