# Beyond oil lies … more oil + price volatility

One of many best-selling books by Kenneth Deffeyes

While I was at Princeton, one of the most popular courses was geology 101 taught by Dr. Kenneth S. Deffeyes. It was a sort of “Rocks for Jocks,” but had an unusual bite since Dr. Deffeyes focussed particularly on the geology of oil. Deffeyes had an impressive understanding of oil and oil production, and one outcome of this impressive understanding was his certainty that US oil production had peaked in 1970, and that world oil was about to run out too. The prediction that US oil production had peaked was not original to him. It was called Hubbert’s peak after King Hubbert who correctly predicted (rationalized?) the date, but published it only in 1971. What Deffeyes added to Hubbard’s analysis was a simplified mathematical justification and a new prediction: that world oil production would peak in the 1980s, or 2000, and then run out fast. By 2005, the peak date was fixed to November 24, of the same year: Thanksgiving day 2005 ± 3 weeks.

As with any prediction of global doom, I was skeptical, but generally trusted the experts, and virtually every experts was on board to predict gloom in the near future. A British group, The Institute for Peak Oil picked 2007 for the oil to run out, and the several movies expanded the theme, e.g. Mad Max. I was convinced enough to direct my PhD research to nuclear fusion engineering. Fusion being presented as the essential salvation for our civilization to survive beyond 2050 years or so. I’m happy to report that the dire prediction of his mathematics did not come to pass, at least not yet. To quote Yogi Berra, “In theory, theory is just like reality.” Still I think it’s worthwhile to review the mathematical thinking for what went wrong, and see if some value might be retained from the rubble.

Deffeyes’s Maltheisan proof went like this: take a year-by year history of the rate of production, P and divide this by the amount of oil known to be recoverable in that year, Q. Plot this P/Q data against Q, and you find the data follows a reasonably straight line: P/Q = b-mQ. This occurs between 1962 and 1983, or between 1983 and 2005. Fro whichever straight line you pick, m and b are positive. Once you find values for m and b that you trust, you can rearrange the equation to read,

P = -mQ2+ bQ

You the calculate the peak of production from this as the point where dP/dQ = 0. With a little calculus you’ll see this occurs at Q = b/2m, or at P/Q = b/2. This is the half-way point on the P/Q vs Q line. If you extrapolate the line to zero production, P=0, you predict a total possible oil production, QT = b/m. According to this model this is always double the total Q discovered by the peak. In 1983, QT was calculated to be 1 trillion barrels. By May of 2005, again predicted to be a peak year, QT had grown to two trillion barrels.

I suppose Deffayes might have suspected there was a mistake somewhere in the calculation from the way that QT had doubled, but he did not. See him lecture here in May 2005; he predicts war, famine, and pestilence, with no real chance of salvation. It’s a depressing conclusion, confidently presented by someone enamored of his own theories. In retrospect, I’d say he did not realize that he was over-enamored of his own theory, and blind to the possibility that the P/Q vs Q line might curve upward, have a positive second derivative.

Aside from his theory of peak oil, Deffayes also had a theory of oil price, one that was not all that popular. It’s not presented in the YouTube video, nor in his popular books, but it’s one that I still find valuable, and plausibly true. Deffeyes claimed the wildly varying prices of the time were the result of an inherent quay imbalance between a varying supply and an inelastic demand. If this was the cause, we’d expect the price jumps of oil up and down will match the way the wait-line at a barber shop gets longer and shorter. Assume supply varies because discoveries came in random packets, while demand rises steadily, and it all makes sense. After each new discovery, price is seen to fall. It then rises slowly till the next discovery. Price is seen as a symptom of supply unpredictability rather than a useful corrective to supply needs. This view is the opposite of Adam Smith, but I think he’s not wrong, at least in the short term with a necessary commodity like oil.

Academics accepted the peak oil prediction, I suspect, in part because it supported a Marxian remedy. If oil was running out and the market was broken, then our only recourse was government management of energy production and use. By the late 70s, Jimmy Carter told us to turn our thermostats to 65. This went with price controls, gas rationing, and a 55 mph speed limit, and a strong message of population management – birth control. We were running out of energy, we were told because we had too many people and they (we) were using too much. America’s grown days were behind us, and only the best and the brightest could be trusted to manage our decline into the abyss. I half believed these scary predictions, in part because everyone did, and in part because they made my research at Princeton particularly important. The Science fiction of the day told tales of bold energy leaders, and I was ready to step up and lead, or so I thought.

By 2009 Dr. Deffayes was being regarded as chicken little as world oil production continued to expand.

I’m happy to report that none of the dire predictions of the 70’s to 90s came to pass. Some of my colleagues became world leaders, the rest because stock brokers with their own private planes and SUVs. As of my writing in 2018, world oil production has been rising, and even King Hubbert’s original prediction of US production has been overturned. Deffayes’s reputation suffered for a few years, then politicians moved on to other dire dangers that require world-class management. Among the major dangers of today, school shootings, Ebola, and Al Gore’s claim that the ice caps will melt by 2014, flooding New York. Sooner or later, one of these predictions will come true, but the lesson I take is that it’s hard to predict change accurately.

Just when you thought US oil was depleted, production began rising. We now produce more than in 1970.

Much of the new oil production you’ll see on the chart above comes from tar-sands, oil the Deffeyes  considered unrecoverable, even while it was being recovered. We also  discovered new ways to extract leftover oil, and got better at using nuclear electricity and natural gas. In the long run, I expect nuclear electricity and hydrogen will replace oil. Trees have a value, as does solar. As for nuclear fusion, it has not turned out practical. See my analysis of why.

Robert Buxbaum, March 15, 2018. Happy Ides of March, a most republican holiday.

# Kennedy’s perfect, boring college-entry essays

To get into any college you have to write an essay or two, generally including one describing why you want to go that particular college, and many students have trouble. How do I make myself stand out, they ask. My suggestion: Don’t. Make it clear that you want to go, but dare to be dull with the details. John Kennedy did; you can too.

JFK’s dull letter to Harvard. It’s his only essay.

Most school essays limit the number of words. The reviewer too prefers you keep it short. If you want to go to Harvard, or Princeton, or Iowa state, show you can say what needs to be said within the word limit. The first sentence must tell them that you want to go that college, specifically. Mention the college: you want to go to Old Ivy, say. Once that’s taken care of, just state your reasons. Unless you’re going into the writing program, the baldest, simplest terms will work just fine — e.g. that Old Ivy provides an excellent education. It’s better if you can mention a more-specific field of study, e.g. liberal arts or zoölogy, but that’s not necessary. You can now list three or so details to back up your claims. For example, you might mention that the zoölogy program at Old Ivy is well-regarded (mention the school often), that you enjoy their sports team (the ground-hogs, say), or their extracurriculars. Mention that your dad went there or your uncle (and is your hero — hero is a good word) or that you like the location. Surely there is some reason you want to go. If you can mention a famous teacher or alumnus, all the better. Flesh it out if you have space; don’t if you don’t. Conclude with a sentence pointing to the future: that this school will help me do something you want to achieve. You can be specific or not, but don’t lie. Dull is more effective than a lie. I’ve copied, above, John Kennedy’s essay to Harvard, and below his essay to Princeton. These essays follow the pattern, and are dull within the pattern. His conclusion for the first essay: that he wants to go to Harvard to be “a Harvard Man.” He got in. He used the same, dull letter for Princeton, but had more space. For Princeton he said It would have a good effect on me, and that he wanted to be “a Princeton Man.” He got into Princeton too, and went there for two months before switching to Harvard.

John F. Kennedy’s, almost identical letter to Princeton. He got in there too.

You may think that letters like this only work if you are John F. Kennedy, and to some extent that is true. But not totally. I got into Princeton grad school from a background in public school, with no famous relatives or money. My grades were better than JFKs, but my essay had the same structure with some more specifics. As I recall, I explained that I wanted to go to Princeton because I wanted to study chemical engineering in a top department. I may have mentioned a famous professor, and stated I wanted to work on nuclear fusion — a big Princeton specialty at the time. That’s about all, as I recall.

This formula can be tweaked for the other college (and non-college) essays. I’ve previously written about the two speeches at the opening of the Gettysburg cemetery, in 1863. Edwin Everett gave the first speech of the day, excerpted and analyzed here. His speech followed the formula and was lauded. He told folks that it was important that we are here honoring the dead, and followed with three or four reasons for why it was important. His conclusion pointed to the future significance of the events. Republicans and Democrat listeners agreed this was a speech to remember from a scholar of note. Everett’s face graced the \$50 bill for the 40 years after his death.

Abraham Lincoln also spoke at the Gettysburg dedication, but he didn’t follow the formula. He spoke of liberty, and America, and of a government of the people. His speech was panned at the time, even by Republicans. More details here. Though people now see his Gettysburg address as a landmark, at the time even the Republican press didn’t like it  Fortunately for Lincoln and the republic, they warmed to the speech over the next year – in time for the election of 1864. When you apply to college, you want entry now. You can’t wait a year for people to warm to your essay. Stick to the formula. You don’t want the compliment of finding, years from now, that one of the reviewers who rejected you remembers your words fondly. That will be too late. Write for the dull audience in front of you; help them put your application in the “accepted” box. As a last note: If you can not find any truthful reason that you want to go to Harvard or Old Ivy you probably should not be going there. The beginning of wisdom is self-knowledge, and the primary audience for your essay is you.

If you find you have good reasons, but find you need help with the process or with your english grammar, I should mention that my niece owns a company to help folks get into college — link here. She also has a book “From Public School to The Ivy League.

Robert E. Buxbaum, August 7, 2017. Some two years ago, I wrote an essay for my daughter on the joys and pressures of entering her junior year in high school. Here it is.

# Cornwallis attacks. Washington goes to Princeton.

In the previous post, I asked what you would do as a general (Cornwallis), December 27, 1776. You command 30,000 troops, some 12,000 at Princeton of at total 50,000 against Washington’s 3500. Washington is camped 12 miles to the south just outside of Trenton with a majority of his men scheduled to leave in three days when their enlistments expire.

In fact, what Cornwallis did, is what every commenter recommended. He attacked at Trenton, and lost New Jersey. Cornwallis left 2-3000 troops at Princeton and marched south. Despite fallen trees, swollen rivers, destroyed bridges — all courtesy of Washington’s men –Cornwallis reached Trenton and attacked. By the time he got there, 2000 of Washington’s men had left, partially replaced by untrained militia. After a skirmish, Washington set up 400 militia to keep the fires burning, and without telling them where he was going “Fall back if the British attack”, he took the rest of his forces east, across frozen fields and swampland, then north to Princeton along the Quaker-bridge road. He later said the reason was to avoid looking like a retreat.

He split his forces just outside of Princeton, and a detachment, led by Hugh Mercer and 350  regulars had the first battle as they ran into the 17th and 55th British regiments as they prepared to escort supplies to Trenton. The British commander, Lt.colonel Mawhood, seeing how few men he faced, sent the 55th and most of the supplies back to Princeton, and led his men to shoot at the Americans from behind a fence. Mercer’s men fired back with rifles and cannon, doing little. Then, the trained British did what their training demanded: they rose up and charged the rebels with fixed bayonets. Mercer, having no bayonets, called “Retreat!” before being stabbed repeatedly, see painting. Mawhood’s men seized the cannon, turned it on the fleeing remnants of Mercer’s men.

General Mercer defeated at Princeton, as Washington shows up.

It looked like a British victory, but then General Nathaniel Greene (the fighting Quaker) showed up with several hundred Pennsylvania militiamen. The militiamen had never seen battle, and many fled, after shooting into the British lines with rifles and another cannon and grape-shot. At this point it looked like a draw, but then, Washington himself joined the battle with two brigades of regulars: Hitchcock’s 253 New Englanders and Hand’s 200 Pennsylvania riflemen.

Washington managed to rally the fleeing Pennsylvanians; “Parade with us, my brave fellows! There is but a handful of the enemy and we will have them directly!” And Mawhood, now without most of his officers, ordered a last bayonet charge and fled down the Post Road to Trenton. Washington rode after for a bit “It’s a fine fox chase, my boys!”

James Peale, 1783. John Sullivan and his forces at Frog Hollow. Battle of Princeton

The rest of the British along with Mawhood, met the rest of Washington’s men, lead by John Sullivan, at a place called Frog Hollow, near where Princeton Inn College (Forbes College) now stands. The Americans opened with grape-shot and the British put up little resistance. Those who did not surrender were chased into town, taking refuge in Nassau Hall, the central building of the university. Alexander Hamilton’s men (he’d been rejected by Princeton) took special enjoyment in shooting cannon into the building. A hole remains in the college walls and a cannonball supposedly decapitated a portrait of George II. About then the New Jersey militia broke in a door, and the British surrendered.

Washington had captured, killed, or destroyed most of three English regiments, took a wagon train of supplies, and left going north following a bit of looting. “Loyalists” were relieved of coins, liquor, shoes, blankets. They ate the breakfast prepared for the 40th, and were gone by 11 AM, heading north — to where?. Cornwallis returned before noon “in a most infernal sweat — running, puffing, blowing, and swearing.” His men looted the town again, but now what?

Was Washington headed to New Brunswick where a handful of British soldiers guarded Cornwallis’s supplies and a war chest of £70,000? He didn’t go directly, but perhaps by a circuitous route. Cornwallis went straight to New Brunswick and jealously guarded the place, its money and supplies. Washington meanwhile ran to safety in the Watchung Mountains outside Morristown. Cornwallis’s 17th claimed victory, having defeated a larger group, but Cornwallis gave up Princeton, Trenton, and the lives of the New Jersey loyalists. Rebels flocked to Washington. Loyalists were looted and chased. Hessians were shot in “a sort of continual hunting party.” Philip Freneau expressed the change thus:

When first Britannia sent her hostile crew; To these far shores, to ravage and subdue,

We thought them gods, and almost seemed to say; No ball could pierce them, and no dagger slay.

Heavens! what a blunder—half our fears were vain; These hostile gods at length have quit the plain.

Robert Buxbaum. December 21, 2016. So now that you know what happened, what SHOULD Cornwallis have done? Clearly, it’s possible to do everything right militarily, and still lose. This is an essence of comedy. The British had a similar Pyrrhic victory at Bunker Hill. I suspect Cornwallis should have fortified Trenton with a smaller force; built a stockade wall, and distributed weapons to the loyalists there. That’s a change in British attitude, but it’s this dynamic of trust that works. The British retreat music, “the world turned upside down“, is a Christmas song.

# You are Cornwallis, Dec 29, 1776. What should you do?

Here’s a military thought question: what would you do? It is Dec 29, 1776, and you are General Howe and/or Cornwallis. You command 32,000 troops, a big chunk of the largest and finest expeditionary force that England has ever mustered. Washington’s rag-tag army has shrunk from 25,000 at the beginning of the year to 3335 now. They’re arrayed outside of Trenton NJ following their one victory of the year. Their Christmas raid on Trenton killed 100 Hessians and captured 900. In that raid Washington lost only 6 (two to frostbite), but otherwise his year has been nothing but defeats, and you’d like to make sure his string of bad luck continues.

Washington at Trenton with a captured British flag. Dec. 25, 1776. Peale. What should Cornwallis do now?

You’ve retaken the city and have 4000 or so at Trenton and another 10,000 at Princeton, 12 miles to the north. You can march or stay. In favor of staying: the enlistment of 3000 or so of Washington’s army is up Dec. 31, and they’ve not been fed or paid. They will almost certainly quit. You can thus wait and attack Jan. 1, or attack now and give the rabble another reason to quit. Two other options: hole up and let the weather do the job, or bypass Washington, cross the Delaware, and attack Philadelphia, the colonial capital. Philadelphia is completely undefended. What would you do? What should you do? Making the decision somewhat pressing, Washington’s men keep making skirmish raids in and around Trenton. Shooting cannon or rifles in, killing here and there.

Please post your opinion of what Cornwallis should have done, and in a week or so, I’ll post an account of what Cornwallis actually did and how it played out (not well for Cornwallis).

Robert E. Buxbaum, December 8, 2016, roughly 240 years after the events described. I’ve written about other great revolutionary mistakes, and about the battle of Bunker hill.

# From Princeton: dare to be dumb.

Let’s say you have a good education and a good idea you want to present to equally educated colleagues. You might think to use your finest language skills: your big words, your long sentences, and your dialectically organized, long paragraphs. A recent, Princeton University study suggests this is a route to disaster with the educated, and even more so with the un-educated. In both groups, big words don’t convince, and don’t even impress, like small words do.

Like this fellow, most folks aren’t impressed by fancy speeches. (cartoon by Gahan Wilson)

http://web.princeton.edu/…/Opp%20Consequences%20of%20Erudit…

People, even educated ones, want ideas presented in simple words and simple sentences. They trust such statements, and respect those who speak this way more than those who shoot high, and sometimes over their heads. Even educated people find long words and sentences confusing, and off-putting. To them, as to the less-educated, it sounds like you’re using your fancy english as a cover for lies and ignorance, while trying to claim superiority. Who knew that George W. was so smart (Al Gore?). Here’s George W. at the SMU graduation yesterday (May 18). He does well, I’d say, with mostly one-syllable words.

Lower yourself to be one of the crowd, but don’t go so far that you’re the butt of jokes.

Reading this study, I’ve come to ask why fancy language skills is so important for getting into  college, and why it adds points when writing a college paper. Asked another way, why are professors pleased by something that’s off-putting to everyone else. One thought: this is a club initiation — a jargon to show you belong to the club, or want to. Alternately, perhaps professors have gotten so used to this that it’s become their natural language. Whatever the reason, when outside of university, keep it simple (and) stupid.

Some specifics: at job interviews, claim you want to work at their company doing a job in your field. Only when dealing with professors can you claim your goal is capitalizing on your intellectual synergies, and phrase that means the same thing. Don’t say, you’ll do anything, and remember it’s OK to ask for training; poor education doesn’t hold-back American productivity.

Dr. Robert E. Buxbaum, May 19, 2015. Here are some further thoughts on education, and some pictures of my dorm and the grad college at Princeton back in the day.

# Nuclear fusion

I got my PhD at Princeton University 33 years ago (1981) working on the engineering of nuclear fusion reactors, and I thought I’d use this blog to rethink through the issues. I find I’m still of the opinion that developing fusion is important as the it seems the best, long-range power option. Civilization will still need significant electric power 300 to 3000 years from now, it seems, when most other fuel sources are gone. Fusion is also one of the few options for long-range space exploration; needed if we ever decide to send colonies to Alpha Centauri or Saturn. I thought fusion would be ready by now, but it is not, and commercial use seems unlikely for the next ten years at least — an indication of the difficulties involved, and a certain lack of urgency.

Oil, gas, and uranium didn’t run out like we’d predicted in the mid 70s. Instead, population growth slowed, new supplies were found, and better methods were developed to recover and use them. Shale oil and fracking unlocked hydrocarbons we thought were unusable, and nuclear fission reactors got better –safer and more efficient. At the same time, the more we studied, the clearer it came that fusion’s technical problems are much harder to tame than uranium fission’s.

Uranium fission was/is frighteningly simple — far simpler than even the most basic fusion reactor. The first nuclear fission reactor (1940) involved nothing more than uranium pellets in a pile of carbon bricks stacked in a converted squash court at the University of Chicago. No outside effort was needed to get the large, unstable uranium atoms split to smaller, more stable ones. Water circulating through the pile removed the heat released, and control was maintained by people lifting and lowering cadmium control rods while standing on the pile.

A fusion reactor requires high temperature or energy to make anything happen. Fusion energy is produced by combining small, unstable heavy hydrogen atoms into helium, a bigger more stable one, see figure. To do this reaction you need to operate at the equivalent of about 500,000,000 degrees C, and containing it requires (typically) a magnetic bottle — something far more complex than a pile of graphic bricks. The reward was smaller too: “only” about 1/13th as much energy per event as fission. We knew the magnetic bottles were going to be tricky, e.g. there was no obvious heat transfer and control method, but fusion seemed important enough, and the problems seemed manageable enough that fusion power seemed worth pursuing — with just enough difficulties to make it a challenge.

Basic fusion reaction: deuterium + tritium react to give helium, a neutron and energy.

The plan at Princeton, and most everywhere, was to use a TOKAMAK, a doughnut-shaped reactor like the one shown below, but roughly twice as big; TOKAMAK was a Russian acronym. The doughnut served as one side of an enormous transformer. Hydrogen fuel was ionized into a plasma (a neutral soup of protons and electrons) and heated to 300,000,000°C by a current in the TOKOMAK generated by varying the current in the other side of the transformer. Plasma containment was provided by enormous magnets on the top and bottom, and by ring-shaped magnets arranged around the torus.

As development went on, we found we kept needing bigger and bigger doughnuts and stronger and stronger magnets in an effort to balance heat loss with fusion heating. The number density of hydrogen atoms per volume, n, is proportional to the magnetic strength. This is important because the fusion heat rate per volume is proportional to n-squared, n2, while heat loss is proportional to n divided by the residence time, something we called tau, τ. The main heat loss was from the hot plasma going to the reactor surface. Because of the above, a heat balance ratio was seen to be important, heat in divided by heat out, and that was seen to be more-or-less proportional to nτ. As the target temperatures increased, we found we needed larger and larger nτ reactors to make a positive heat balance. And this translated to ever larger reactors and ever stronger magnetic fields, but even here there was a limit, 1 billion Kelvin, a thermodynamic temperature where the fusion reaction went backward and no energy was produced. The Princeton design was huge, with super strong, super magnets, and was operated at 300 million°C, near the top of the reaction curve. If the temperature went above or below this temperature, the fire would go out. There was no room for error, but relatively little energy output per volume — compared to fission.

Fusion reaction options and reaction rates.

The most likely reaction involved deuterium and tritium, referred to as D and T. This was the reaction of the two heavy isotopes of hydrogen shown in the figure above — the same reaction used in hydrogen bombs, a point we rarely made to the public. For each reaction D + T –> He + n, you get 17.6 million electron volts (17.6 MeV). This is 17.6 million times the energy you get for an electron moving over one Volt, but only 1/13 the energy of a fission reaction. By comparison, the energy of water-forming, H2 + 1/2 O2 –> H2O, is the equivalent of two electrons moving over 1.2 Volts, or 2.4 electron volts (eV), some 8 million times less than fusion.

The Princeton design involved reacting 40 gm/hr of heavy hydrogen to produce 8 mol/hr of helium and 4000 MW of heat. The heat was converted to electricity at 38% efficiency using a topping cycle, a modern (relatively untried) design. Of the 1500 MWh/hr of electricity that was supposed to be produced, all but about 400 MW was to be delivered to the power grid — if everything worked right. Sorry to say, the value of the electricity did not rise anywhere as fast as the cost of the reactor and turbines. Another problem: 1100 MW was more than could be easily absorbed by any electrical grid. The output was high and steady, and could not be easily adjusted to match fluctuating customer demand. By contrast a coal plant’s or fuel cell’s output could be easily adjusted (and a nuclear plant with a little more difficulty).

Because of the need for heat balance, it turned out that at least 9% of the hydrogen had to be burnt per pass through the reactor. The heat lost per mol by conduction to the wall was, to good approximation, the heat capacity of each mol of hydrogen ions, 82 J/°C mol, times the temperature of the ions, 300 million °C divided by the containment time, τ. The Princeton design was supposed to have a containment of about 4 seconds. As a result, the heat loss by conduction was 6.2 GW per mol. This must be matched by the molar heat of reaction that stayed in the plasma. This was 17.6 MeV times Faraday’s constant, 96,800 divided by 4 seconds (= 430 GW/mol reacted) divided by 5. Of the 430 GW/mol produced in fusion reactions only 1/5 remains in the plasma (= 86 GW/mol) the other 4/5 of the energy of reaction leaves with the neutron. To get the heat balance right, at least 9% of the hydrogen must react per pass through the reactor; there were also some heat losses from radiation, so the number is higher. Burn more or less percent of the hydrogen and you had problems. The only other solution was to increase τ > 4 seconds, but this meant ever bigger reactors.

There was also a material handling issue: to get enough fuel hydrogen into the center of the reactor, quite a lot of radioactive gas had to be handled — extracted from the plasma chamber. These were to be frozen into tiny spheres of near-solid hydrogen and injected into the reactor at ultra-sonic velocity. Any slower and the spheres would evaporate before reaching the center. As 40 grams per hour was 9% of the feed, it became clear that we had to be ready to produce and inject 1 pound/hour of tiny spheres. These “snowballs-in-hell” had to be small so they didn’t dampen the fire. The vacuum system had to be able to be big enough to handle the lb/hr or so of unburned hydrogen and ash, keeping the pressure near total vacuum. You then had to purify the hydrogen from the ash-helium and remake the little spheres that would be fed back to the reactor. There were no easy engineering problems here, but I found it enjoyable enough. With a colleague, I came up with a cute, efficient high vacuum pump and recycling system, and published it here.

Yet another engineering challenge concerned the difficulty of finding a material for the first-wall — the inner wall of the doughnut facing the plasma. Of the 4000 MW of heat energy produced, all the conduction and radiation heat, about 1000 MW is deposited in the first wall and has to be conducted away. Conducting this heat means that the wall must have an enormous coolant flow and must withstand an enormous amount of thermal stress. One possible approach was to use a liquid wall, but I’ve recently come up with a rather nicer solid wall solution (I think) and have filed a patent; more on that later, perhaps after/if the patent is accepted. Another engineering challenge was making T, tritium, for the D-T reaction. Tritium is not found in nature, but has to be made from the neutron created in the reaction and from lithium in a breeder blanket, Li + n –> He + T. I examined all possible options for extracting this tritium from the lithium at low concentrations as part of my PhD thesis, and eventually found a nice solution. The education I got in the process is used in my, REB Research hydrogen engineering business.

Man inside the fusion reactor doughnut at ITER. He’d better leave before the 8,000,000°C plasma turns on.

Because of its complexity, and all these engineering challenges, fusion power never reached the maturity of fission power; and then Three-mile Island happened and ruined the enthusiasm for all things nuclear. There were some claims that fusion would be safer than fission, but because of the complexity and improvements in fission, I am not convinced that fusion would ever be even as safe. And the long-term need keeps moving out: we keep finding more uranium, and we’ve developed breeder reactors and a thorium cycle: technologies that make it very unlikely we will run out of fission material any time soon.

The main, near term advantage I see for fusion over fission is that there are fewer radioactive products, see comparison.  A secondary advantage is neutrons. Fusion reactors make excess neutrons that can be used to make tritium, or other unusual elements. A need for one of these could favor the development of fusion power. And finally, there’s the long-term need: space exploration, or basic power when we run out of coal, uranium, and thorium. Fine advantages but unlikely to be important for a hundred years.

Robert E. Buxbaum, March 1, 2014. Here’s a post on land use, on the aesthetics of engineering design, and on the health risks of nuclear power. The sun’s nuclear fusion reactor is unstable too — one possible source of the chaotic behavior of the climate. Here’s a control joke.

# Tiger Sculpture at REB Research

Here’s the latest REB Research sculpture: a saber-toothed tiger:

Saber-toothed Tiger sculpture at REB Research; the face follows you. A bit of our 3 foot geodesic dome is shown in the foreground.

It’s face follows you (somewhat); It was inspired by my recent visit to Princeton Univ — they had lots of tiger statues, but none that looked eerie enough as you walked by. Click here for: YouTube movie.

Normally, by the way, REB Research makes hydrogen generators and other hydrogen stuff. May 1, 2013

Here are the Princeton PhD group of 1980. I’m the hairy bearded fellow at right who’s looking the wrong way. My thesis advisor, Ernest Johnson is the suited fellow just left of center. Dave Ollis is in front of me, and Joe Calo is in front of him, etc. Visit my Facebook page to see how my friends tagged themselves. 35 years ago!

Princeton Chemical Engineering Grad-students, late 1970s. My thesis advisor is the tall fellow at center; I’m the bearded fellow at right looking the wrong way.

# The dining room, and my room at the Princeton Grad College.

I took these pictures at reunions this year 2012; the first shot is the dining room at the Princeton Grad college. They favored robes for formal dinners when I started; the fellows in white are waiters– and we had stewards to help clean up our rooms. (Mine knew Einstein). The second photo shows the courtyard looking towards two of my dorm rooms. One year I was in the second floor room at left with the bay window. One year in the second floor room at upper right (barely visible).

And here is the Grad Tower — Otherwise known as “Cleveland Tower” to honor Princeton alumnus, Grover Cleveland, and here’s the fireplace in the dining room. Reminds one of The School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in that book by JK Rowling– Boar-scabs, I think. The motto: bonus entra, melior exi: good coming, better leaving.

Here’s my PhD class; at first glance, you would not think we belong.

Robert Buxbaum, June, 2012