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This chapter is entirely devoted to one industrial application, the simulation of the industrial production of aluminium in electrolytic cells. The simulation of this specific problem has indeed motivated the whole scientific strategy described in the first five chapters. It serves as an illustration of the efficiency of the approach presented throughout this book. A schematic description of the problem is as follows. An electric current of huge intensity runs downwards through two horizontal layers of incompressible non-miscible conducting fluids. Owing to the magnetohydrodynamics coupling, the interface between the fluids moves, and, in view of the very high intensity of the electric current, the system is very sensitive to instabilities. The industrial challenge is to model, understand, and control these instabilities. Numerical simulation of nonlinear systems can help to reach such a goal. Other techniques (such as a stability analysis for the linearized system) are also employed, and are overviewed for comparison.

This chapter looks at the implications of achievement-oriented students' fixation on “getting good grades” for classroom learning. The chapter describes how these students perceived the purposes of school, and the specific practices they developed to maximize their academic achievement (“get the good grade with the least amount of work”) and future prospects. These included constantly judging the utility of their classes and the effectiveness of their teachers; personalizing their relationships with teachers; and cheating. The chapter explores how many teachers “padded” or “built up” grades, and how these, along with the school recognition programs make up a process of “hypercredentialing.” It is found that such an emphasis creates disjunctions between processes of credentialing and learning. Hypercredentialism can promote poor pedagogy and interfere with students' engagement with learning. It is noteworthy that according to several teachers, students who did not “play the game” of credentialing were in the minority.

This chapter examines the alternative strategy of those advocating physician-assisted death (PAD): passing legislation that allows death with dignity. It begins with an overview of the slippery slope argument and other arguments presented by those opposed to legalization of PAD, including the American Medical Association (AMA) and the Roman Catholic Church. It then considers the political battles in the states over the right to die, with particular emphasis on initial efforts to legalize PAD through the use of the initiative and the referendum processes. It also discusses efforts in various states, including Washington State and California, to pass PAD legislation and concludes by outlining six factors that determine the success or failure of PAD initiatives at the state level.

This chapter examines the factors that accounted for successful efforts to legitimatize physician-assisted death (PAD) in Oregon and Washington State. In 1994 and in 1997, Oregon passed the nation's first end-of-life PAD legislation, the Oregon Death with Dignity Act (ODWDA). In 2008, the Washington Death with Dignity Act (WDWDA) was enacted. This chapter considers the hardball politics that surrounded passage of both PAD bills and why opposition to PAD did not prevail. It first provides an overview of ODWDA and the legal challenges it faced between 1995 and 2005, including those from President George W. Bush and the Republicans in Congress. It then turns to WDWDA and the Montana Supreme Court's decision in Baxter v Wyoming (2009) allowing doctor assistance in dying.

This chapter explores some of the questions surrounding the battles over the right to die, such as whether there are viable alternatives to physician-assisted death (PAD) for terminally ill patients who refuse to live without any realizable quality of life. It also considers a number of so-called givens in the recounting of the efforts to introduce PAD legislation in various states, including the enormous power of the federal courts, especially the U.S. Supreme Court, in the PAD legal battles; the power of the “sanctity of life” PAD opponents that include the Roman Catholic Church; and the local politics underlying all the PAD battles. Finally, it discusses the impact of the slippery slope argument in the PAD debates and the prospects for transplants—a few dying men and women who move to one of the states that allow terminally ill persons to end their lives on their own terms.

This chapter discusses an interdisciplinary project that takes a multifaceted approach to reducing the impact of continence difficulties for older people. Environmental barriers to participation for people with continence or accessibility needs were addressed by investigating toilet provision outside the home. A variety of methods was used to investigate the concerns of both providers and users of publically accessible toilets and a technological solution was designed. NHS continence services were investigated from patient and professional perspective with the aim of understanding the particular needs of older patients. Two assistive devices that had been requested by continence pad users were developed to clinical prototype stage and tested for efficacy and user satisfaction.

This chapter examines the alternative strategy of those advocating physician-assisted death (PAD): passing legislation that allows death with dignity. It begins with an overview of the slippery slope argument and other arguments presented by those opposed to legalization of PAD, including the American Medical Association (AMA) and the Roman Catholic Church. It then considers the political battles in the states over the right to die, with particular emphasis on initial efforts to legalize PAD through the use of the initiative and the referendum processes. It also discusses efforts in various states, including Washington State and California, to pass PAD legislation and concludes by outlining six factors that determine the success or failure of PAD initiatives at the state level.

This chapter examines the factors that accounted for successful efforts to legitimatize physician-assisted death (PAD) in Oregon and Washington State. In 1994 and in 1997, Oregon passed the nation's first end-of-life PAD legislation, the Oregon Death with Dignity Act (ODWDA). In 2008, the Washington Death with Dignity Act (WDWDA) was enacted. This chapter considers the hardball politics that surrounded passage of both PAD bills and why opposition to PAD did not prevail. It first provides an overview of ODWDA and the legal challenges it faced between 1995 and 2005, including those from President George W. Bush and the Republicans in Congress. It then turns to WDWDA and the Montana Supreme Court's decision in Baxter v Wyoming (2009) allowing doctor assistance in dying.

This chapter explores some of the questions surrounding the battles over the right to die, such as whether there are viable alternatives to physician-assisted death (PAD) for terminally ill patients who refuse to live without any realizable quality of life. It also considers a number of so-called givens in the recounting of the efforts to introduce PAD legislation in various states, including the enormous power of the federal courts, especially the U.S. Supreme Court, in the PAD legal battles; the power of the “sanctity of life” PAD opponents that include the Roman Catholic Church; and the local politics underlying all the PAD battles. Finally, it discusses the impact of the slippery slope argument in the PAD debates and the prospects for transplants—a few dying men and women who move to one of the states that allow terminally ill persons to end their lives on their own terms.

The lesson described in this chapter describes a physical computing project that allows students to create devices that trigger sounds and accompanying visuals in a computer program they code themselves. Designed for students in the sixth or seventh grade, this hands-on activity provides students experiences to learn key coding concepts such as iteration and events, basic circuitry, conductivity, teamwork, organization, and efficiency. By the completion of the activity, students will have designed and created a working musical instrument—a drum pad—made out of household materials such as cardboard and tinfoil that can trigger sampled sounds on their computers using a hardware device called Makey Makey and software called Scratch.

The Thai-Cambodian dispute over the Preah Vihear temple illustrates how National Humiliation narratives have misinformed Thais regarding their history of boundary formation. Thai protests over the temple’s status reflected their belief that ‘Preah Vihear has always been part of Thailand.’ In fact, the heritage site was unknown to the Thai public until the Phibun government publicized its ‘redemption’ from French Indochina in 1941. Its ‘loss’ to Thailand in 1962 was met with public protests patterned after the original irredentist demonstrations of 1940. Today, Preah Vihear has become synonymous with the idea of lost territories; it is a symbol of Thailand’s National Humiliation.

The flare-up of Thailand’s border dispute with Cambodia in 2008 indicates that the imagery of the lost territories remains a powerful force in Thai politics. Groups like the People’s Alliance for Democracy continue to employ National Humiliation discourse to redefine state identity, arguing that the nation must embrace its narrow vision of unity or the country’s sacred boundaries could be violated once again. The image of the lost territories appears on protest signs, museum exhibits, and even a series of youtube videos that claim to document Thailand’s history of territorial dismemberment. Those individuals, including academics, who dare to challenge this narrative are accused of ‘selling the nation’ in favor of personal interests.

In this chapter, we consider the relationship between theoretical and practical security of a cryptosystem. The concept of perfect secrecy is introduced, and the one-time pad is exhibited as a cryptosystem having this property. We explain why the one-time pad offers the best possible theoretical security that any cryptosystem can have. We then identify reasons why the one-time pad may well be insecure when adopted in practice. The compromises real cryptosystems adopt for reasons of practicality are investigated with the intention of working towards a notion of practical security of a cryptosystem.

This chapter describes how Esther Lederberg, in daring to re-purpose her compact makeup pad as a kind of ink stamp, developed the new Replica Plating Technique but later her husband Joshua seemed to claim sole credit for this discovery. The Lederbergs demonstrated the effectiveness of the new plating technique in their study of spontaneous bacterial mutations, using the technique to resolve a longstanding question of bacterial mutations: Did mutations occur spontaneously or was some other process of adaptation involved? While at first, Joshua defended Esther’s co-equal contribution to the invention of replica plating, in later publications, he seemed to claim sole credit, by ignoring her contributions. This is a classic example of the Matilda Effect, when a male colleague is given sole credit for an invention by unfairly ignoring the female colleague’s contribution. Some of the Lederbergs’ colleagues recognize Esther as the primary inventor of replica plating, since she had the reputation of an experimental genius; others assumed that the creative insight was Joshua’s.

The paths that took men and women from their ordinary lives and deposited them on the doorstep of the odd profession of cryptanalysis were always tortuous, accidental, and unpredictable. The full story of the Colossus, the pioneering electronic device developed by the Government Code and Cypher School (GC & CS) to break German teleprinter ciphers in the Second World War, is fundamentally a story of several of these accidental paths converging at a remarkable moment in the history of electronics—and of the wartime urgency that set these men and women on these odd paths. Were it not for the wartime necessity of codebreaking, and were it not for particular statistical and logical properties of the teleprinter ciphers that were so eminently suited to electronic analysis, the history of computing might have taken a very different course. The fact that Britain’s codebreakers cracked the high-level teleprinter ciphers of the German Army and Luftwaffe high command during the Second World War has been public knowledge since the 1970s. But the recent declassification of new documents about Colossus and the teleprinter ciphers, and the willingness of key participants to discuss their roles more fully, has laid bare as never before the technical challenges they faced—not to mention the intense pressures, the false steps, and the extraordinary risks and leaps of faith along the way. It has also clarified the true role that the Colossus machines played in the advent of the digital age. Though they were neither general-purpose nor stored-program computers themselves, the Colossi sparked the imaginations of many scientists, among them Alan Turing and Max Newman, who would go on to help launch the post-war revolution that ushered in the age of the digital, general-purpose, stored-program electronic computer. Yet the story of Colossus really begins not with electronics at all, but with codebreaking; and to understand how and why the Colossi were developed and to properly place their capabilities in historical context, it is necessary to understand the problem they were built to solve, and the people who were given the job of solving it.

As German forces marched into Norway in April 1940, the German ambassador to Sweden requested permission to lease a number of telephone lines running across Swedish territory. The lines would be used to carry communications between Germany and centres in Norway. The Swedish government agreed—and proceeded to tap the lines. Analysis showed that the Germans were using the lines for teleprinter traffic (among other things). Following suitable modifications to Swedish receiving equipment, the teleprinter signals were processed and printed out on paper tape. The initial traffic was in plaintext. From this traffic, and from telephone conversations, it was learned that the Germans were proposing to introduce something called the ‘Geheimschreiber’— in fact the Siemens T52, known to the British as Sturgeon. The Swedes assumed that the Geheimschreiber was some kind of encryption device. The assumption was confirmed at the end of April, when intercepted text became unreadable. It was at this point that Professor Arne Beurling, the magician of Swedish wartime cryptanalysis (and a future inheritor of Einstein’s office at the Institute for Advanced Study at Princeton University) entered the game. Beurling had already played a major role in the solution of the five-digit code used by the Soviet Baltic fleet. The T52 traffic would also succumb to his charms. His solution, based on traffic of 25 and 27 May 1940, led to the emergence in Sweden of what was virtually an industry for the extraction of intelligence from German cable traffic. Curiously enough, the exact details of Beurling’s break remain unknown. He never explained his method in detail, far less wrote it down, and rather relished keeping it completely secret. It is clear that Beurling made his attack on what the British called a ‘depth’ (and the Swedes referred to as ‘parallel texts’)—that is to say, a set of telegrams enciphered using the same key. Depths could quickly be identified from an indicator known as the QEP. Two telegrams sent on the same day with the same QEP could be assumed to have been enciphered using the same key. Depths should never have occurred.

This chapter examines instances where work can be turned back into play. It begins by examining self-defense as a form of work: an action that is focused on outcome, in which the only rules are ultimate ones, and in which form and function unite. IMPACT Personal Safety trainings mobilize the elements of play depicted in earlier sections of this book: providing opportunities to experience mastery through accomplishment and mobilizing that mastery in perilous situations; managing risk and working through failure; encouraging an exploration of shared vulnerabilities; and providing access to the flow state. This chapter also returns to a consideration of the term “fight” and its connotations of agency and mutual engagement. It includes a challenge to the postfeminist criticism that self-defense is victim-blaming via an analysis of self-defense training as freely chosen, effective, and of a fixed duration.

The breaking of the German teleprinter cipher that led to the construction of the Colossus computer was the culmination of a series of triumphs for British codebreakers. British interception of other countries’ radio communications had begun in earnest during the First World War. The War Office ‘censored’ diplomatic communications passing through the hands of the international telegraph companies, setting up a codebreaking operation to decipher the secret messages. The British Army intercepted German military wireless communications with a great deal of success. E. W. B. Gill, one of the army officers involved in decoding the messages, recalled that ‘the orderly Teutonic mind was especially suited for devising schemes which any child could unravel’. One of the most notable successes for the British cryptanalysts came in December 1916 when the commander of the German Middle-East signals operation sent a drunken message to all his operators wishing them a Merry Christmas. With little other activity taking place over the Christmas period, the same isolated and clearly identical message was sent out in six different codes, only one of which, until this point, the British had managed to break. The army codebreaking operation became known as MI1b and was commanded by Major Malcolm Hay, a noted historian and eminent academic. It enjoyed a somewhat fractious relationship with its junior counterpart in the Admiralty, formally the Naval Intelligence Department 25 (NID25) but much better known as Room 40, after the office in the Old Admiralty Buildings in Whitehall that it occupied. The navy codebreaking organisation had an even more successful war than MI1b, recruiting a number of the future employees of Britain’s Second World War codebreaking centre at Bletchley Park, including Dillwyn ‘Dilly’ Knox, Frank Birch, Nigel de Grey, and Alastair Denniston, who by the end of the war was head of Room 40. Among the many successes of the Royal Navy codebreakers was the breaking of the Zimmermann telegram, which showed that Germany had asked Mexico to join an alliance against the United States, offering Mexico’s ‘lost territory’ in Texas, New Mexico, and Arizona in return, and brought the United States into the war.

Classical physics cannot guarantee the security of a procedure for distributing a cryptographic key between two parties. In a quantum world, any attempt by Eve to eavesdrop on communications between Alice and Bob can be revealed. The chapter shows how Alice and Bob can share secrets with unconditional security in Bananaworld by exploiting the “monogamous” correlations of Popescu–Rohrlich bananas, and discusses a protocol by Ekert that exploits the monogamy of entanglement in our quantum world to allow Alice and Bob to share a secret key. Finally, the chapter shows how this can be extended to a device-independent scenario, where Alice and Bob can share a secret key even if they suspect that the devices they use to prepare and measure entangled quantum states are insecure and might have been supplied by an adversary.