Dave Schumaker

Yuval Noah Harari's latest book, Nexus: A Brief History of Information Networks from the Stone Age to AI, was a fascinating (if sometimes overwhelming) journey through human history that explores the power (and the peril) of information. From the first markings inscribed on stone walls to the potential all-seeing eye of artificial intelligence, Harari takes readers on a sweeping tour of how information and stories have shaped human networks -- and, by extension, civilization.

The central idea in Nexus is that information is one of the key forces that connects people, enabling us to cooperate on a massive scale. Harari illustrates this point with a bunch of historical examples, from the canonization of the Bible to the use of propaganda under totalitarian regimes. He argues that information doesn't merely represent reality; rather, it creates new realities through the power of shared stories, myths, and ideologies. This gives us some insight into the forces that have shaped society—sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

One interesting part of the book is Harari's thoughts on the relationship between information and truth. Harari references a Barack Obama speech in Shanghai in 2009, where Obama said, 'I am a big believer in technology and I’m a big believer in openness when it comes to the flow of information. I think that the more freely information flows, the stronger the society becomes.'

Harari calls this view naive, pointing out that while openness is important, the reality of how information is used is much more complicated. He argues that information isn't inherently the same as truth; it's been manipulated countless times throughout history to serve those in power. This kind of manipulation is especially evident in the recent rise of populism, which, as Harari explains, is all about the belief that there's no objective truth and that power is the only reality.

He explains, 'In its more extreme versions, populism posits that there is no objective truth at all and that everyone has “their own truth,” which they wield to vanquish rivals. According to this worldview, power is the only reality. All social interactions are power struggles, because humans are interested only in power. The claim to be interested in something else—like truth or justice—is nothing more than a ploy to gain power.'

Harari warns that when populism uses information purely as a weapon, it ends up eroding the very concept of language itself. Words like 'facts,' 'accurate,' and 'truthful' lose their meaning, as any mention of 'truth' prompts the question, 'Whose truth?' This theme feels especially relevant today, with misinformation and propaganda shaping public opinion in big ways.

Harari gives a sobering take on the rise of AI and how it could impact our information networks. He says, "silicon chips can create spies that never sleep, financiers that never forget and despots that never die" and goes on to warn that AI, with its power for massive surveillance and data processing, could lead to levels of control and manipulation we've never seen before—potentially an existential threat we need to face.

For me, Nexus was a thought-provoking and engaging read, though at times it felt very alarmist. While Harari's concerns are definitely worth thinking about, I think adaptation is key: these AI systems and tools are here, and we have to learn how to use them and live with them — like right now — today!

Overall, I'd give Nexus 4 out of 5 stars. Harari offers a sweeping narrative that makes you think about the role of information in our lives, and the choices we need to make as we stand on the brink of the AI era. It’s a worthy read for anyone interested in understanding the historical roots of our current information age and what it might mean for our future.

I went to the Coliseum to watch the Oakland A's play their last home game. I've have so many great memories at this stadium over the past two decades or so that I've lived in the Bay Area.

One of my favorite memories: Taking Benson to Bark at the Park in 2014

We recently replaced an old dishwasher with a new swanky modern one. Of course, it comes with an app that you can install.

Surely, this is the future that my ancestors could only dream about!

I love that there is an automated notification about not using my dishwasher sent immediately after my dishwasher just completed a cycle.

I was recently in Seattle for work and finally saw The Volcano from our office.

Fun fact: Seattle has to be the place I've most visited, outside of where I've lived -- I've visited for work under 3 different companies, plus various trips to visit friends.

The flight from the Bay Area to Seattle is a wonder of geologic sights and I often found myself staring out the window and snapping pictures of All The Volcanoes! (My poor seat mates on this Southwest flight probably thought I was quite strange).

Anyway, here is Mount Shasta.

With the way things are going, it's probably time to finally crack this open, on this day, the last birthday of America.

Obligatory crappy iPhone photo from attending a show.

One of my favorites: Hot Water Music at the Great American Music Hall in San Francisco last night, celebrating their 30th anniversary.

It's quite stable. I rate it a 10/10.

Earlier today, we found out someone near and dear to us took their own life.

Like countless friends and family who remain behind after this happens, we're left with more questions than answers and it's especially painful to know that our questions will never have answers.

How do you help someone who doesn't want to be helped? Or can't be helped? You often hear advice that says, "Hey, if you're thinking of harming yourself, just talk to someone! 988!"

As if it's as simple as that.

We would sometimes hear them say, "Someday, I'm going to kill myself."

We obviously said, "No! You don't need to do that! We're here for you! How can we help you? You can call us any time, any place. Whatever you need, we're here for you!"

Their response was always a variation of "Hah, that's so sweet. You don't worry about me."

And yet. Here we are. No note. No goodbye. No reason. No nothing.

We're left with nothing but our own confusion, grief, and anger.

May 18th marked the 44th anniversary of the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens. Over on Threads, someone started an account that posted pseudo-realtime updates leading up to the eruption and its aftermath. It's been really fascinating to follow and it stoked my interest in learning more about the eruption (no surprise, given my past geology background, eh?).

Like most things that I start digging into, I ended up finding a book!

Eruption: The Untold Story of Mount St. Helens by Steve Olson. It details events surrounding the eruption and explores how a number of victims ended up around the mountain on the fateful Sunday morning. Reading it sent me down a rabbit hole of Wikipedia entries, USGS reports and Google Earth sleuthing...

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In the summer of 2009, I visited Johnston Ridge Observatory and was able to see the volcano first hand (see image below). Johnston Ridge Observatory is located on the site of the Coldwater II observation post -- where volcanologist David Johnston famously radioed his last words before the lateral blast swept over the ridge, destroying his encampment (Johnston's body was never found): "Vancouver, Vancouver! This is it!"

Source: Me

The lateral blast, the result of a M5.1 earthquake that triggered the largest landslide in recorded history (sheering 1,300 feet off the top of the mountain), sent a violent pyroclastic blast northward, scouring the landscape for miles. You can still see the results of the blast to this day.

When we visited in 2009 -- 29 years after the blast, evidence of the lateral blast was evident in obvious signs of tree fall (below image) -- gigantic trees snapped over in the direction of the blast as if they were toothpicks.

Source: Me

Johnston Ridge (and the site of the Coldwater II Observation Post) sit about 5 miles from the Mount St. Helens. Looking out over this grand vista, your sense of scale is completely messed up. The mountain is so huge that it looks like you can reach out and touch it -- you swear to yourself that it's just right there, a short hop and skip away.

"I'm going to go on a quick hike to the volcano. I'll be back by lunchtime," you say.

Everyone else: "lol"

The shockwave and pyroclastic blast that resulted from the lateral blast were estimated to have reached upwards of 670 miles per hour. At that speed, it would have taken 30 seconds to travel from the volcano to overtopping the ridge.

Looking at my own photos from the observation post, you can't help but wonder what David Johnston was thinking as he saw the shockwave and pyroclastic blast rapidly spread across the valley below, approaching his location. It was probably an awesome sight to see, quickly followed by "Oh. Shit."

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Thanks to the wonders of modern technology, we have some fantastic exploration tools. I loaded up the Google Earth web app and set about exploring the area.

One of the first things I notice is how huge the mountain is (err... was?) and how small and insignificant Johnston Ridge seems, especially in the face of the resulting landslide and pyroclastic blast.

Via Google Earth

Zooming in on the Spirit Lake area, you can still see floating tree trunks grouped together, covering the northern part of the lake (I assume due to prevailing southerly winds in the area).

Via Google Earth

If we turn toward the west and look at Johnston Ridge, you can see deposits left over as the pyroclastic blast topped the ridge. They are the lighter grey outcrops you see around the map. (I've attempted to poorly outline them below).

Via Google Earth

Let's pop over the the valley just to the north of Johnston Ridge (where Spirit Lake Highway runs). We can zoom in and see a mess of tangled tree trunks along the banks of South Coldwater Creek.

Via Google Earth

At the top of that valley, we can see more evidence of pyroclastic blast deposits. Like the image of Johnston Ridge above, look for the light grey outcrops and exposures.

Via Google Earth

Alright, let's check out how far the effects of the lateral blast were felt. If we zoom out a bit and go to the top of the ridge (the next ridge north of Johnston Ridge -- I am unsure of the name), we see more evidence of blast zone tree fall. At this point, we're about 6.5 miles from the volcano.

Via Google Earth

If we skip north across the next valley that contains Coldwater Lake, we get to the third ridge we're going to look at. Again, at the top, we see evidence of blast zone tree fall. This is 8 miles from the volcano.

Via Google Earth

Now that we're getting a sense of the scale of the blast, we can zoom out and start putting things together. Wherever this sort of tree fall exists, it almost looks like the landscape was scoured (it was!).

Let's see if we can find anything else interesting. We zoom out and see some scour marks on ridges way off to the north.

Via Google Earth

The area I circled looks interesting. It's called Goat Mountain and it's nearly 12 miles from the volcano. Let's zoom in... ah, yes. There is the distinct "hash mark" pattern we keep seeing, that represents the blast zone tree fall.

Via Google Earth

From our computer screen, it's hard to get a proper sense of scale. If we use Google Earth to measure the length of one of these "match sticks" (a big dead tree!), we get about 33 feet!

Via Google Earth

A USGS report on the lateral blast showed evidence of 100 foot tall trees knocked over that were located 19 miles from the volcano! Try as I might, I am unable to find evidence of this via Google Earth, as the margins of the blast zone seem to merge with areas where loggers have clear cut the forest.

Below is an example of a clear cut logging area about 30 miles away from the volcano (this was not affected by the blast zone).

Via Google Earth

"But Dave," I hear you say, "how do you know some of those are from the blast and some are from logging?"

You're right! In a way, I don't. However, one potentially easy way to tell is by the presence of logging roads. In my example from Goat Mountain above (12 miles from the volcano), the tree fall was located on a ridge, away from any sort of easily accessible logging road.

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There was one section of Steve Olson's book that I found particularly fascinating, especially because I hadn't heard about it before. At the exact time the mountain erupted, a small plane was flying overhead with two geologists as passengers -- Keith and Dorothy Stoffel.

They were on their fourth pass over the north rim of the crater, flying west to east, when Keith noticed something moving. “Look,” he said, “the crater.” Judson tipped the Cessna’s right wing so they could get a better view. Some of the snow on the south-facing side of the crater had started to move. Then, as they looked out the plane’s windows, an incredible thing happened. A gigantic east-west crack appeared across the top of the mountain, splitting the volcano in two. The ground on the northern half of the crack began to ripple and churn, like a pan of milk just beginning to boil. Suddenly, without a sound, the northern portion of the mountain began to slide downward, toward the north fork of the Toutle River and Spirit Lake. The landslide included the bulge but was much larger. The whole northern portion of the mountain was collapsing. The Stoffels were seeing something that no other geologist had ever seen. A few seconds later, an angry gray cloud emerged from the middle of the landslide, and a similar, darker cloud leapt from near the top of the mountain. They were strange clouds, gnarled and bulbous; they looked more biological than geophysical. The two clouds rapidly expanded and coalesced, growing so large that they covered the ongoing landslide. “Let’s get out of here,” shouted Keith as the roiling cloud reached toward their plane.

Excerpt From Eruption by Steve Olson

Now, wait a minute! You're telling me that at the exact time the volcano erupted, there were people flying overhead? I know this happened in 1980, but there just has to be photos of this, right?

Yes, there are photos!

Via Dorothy Stoffel

Via Dorothy Stoffel

Via Dorothy Stoffel

Via Dorothy Stoffel

The photos correlate well to a famous series of images captured by Gary Rosenquist as the initial moments of the landslide and eruption unfolded.

Via USGS / Gary Rosenquist

Here's a fun aside (if you can call something related to an epic natural disaster "fun"). A YouTuber took the series captured by Rosenquist and ran some magical AI frame interpolation on them (essentially -- an AI tries to generate content to fill in missing information between frames of a video). The result is a near real-time simulation of what those initial moments of the blast may have looked like.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rD-RldBQx7U[/embed]

After taking the photos, Rosenquist and his fellow friends correctly decided it was time to leave. Immediately.

He took one last photo (this is another one I don't remember seeing before).

Via Gary Rosenquist

Do you like geology? Want more? Here's a post I wrote in 2010 that took a deep dive into earthquake frequency.