Editorial
Welcome to the final instalment of the Pilot for this academic year. In order to celebrate the effort and achievement of our most able students in the sixth form, we have made this edition primarily a celebration of the Howard and Mitchell essay prize winners and runners up.
For this internal competition, LVIth students are encouraged to submit an essay on a topic of their choice which showcases rigorous research and lively academic writing. The Howard prize, which celebrates thinking in the arts and humanities, was judged this year by Chair of Governors, Ros Serelli; Head of Government and Politics, Mr Simon Pepper; and English specialist, Mr Roderick Lonsdale. The Mitchell essay showcases research in STEM and the judging panel was comprised of our Head of Mathematics, Ms Laura Compton, Stuart Innes (OC), Lara Hobbis (OC) and Wojtek Bazant (OC). The citations from some academic works have been removed, but a full set of references is available on request.
We also include in this edition a piece of written work written by OC Melody Dawson with a link to the composition she created for her A level in music last year.
As always, we are grateful to Mr Edwin Aitken for his support in sharing some of the outstanding pieces of art that Chigwellians have produced. Within this edition, we have chosen to celebrate our young artists who have entered the Royal Academy Young Artists’ Summer Show and some our most outstanding A Level and GCSE pieces.
We wish you all a very happy summer.
RUHI PATEL, IVTH FORM
CONTENTS
FRONT COVER: RA YOUNG ARTISTS SUMMER SHOW
2. EDITORIAL
3. GREEN CHEMISTRY
SYUEN CHIN (IVTH FORM)
TOMAS BALNIONIS (LVITH)
4. LONDON KAROLINA SABAH KHUL (MVITH)
10. LARKIN: MISANTHROPE OR TRUTH-TELLER
17. FINE ART G.C.S,E.
18. ANTI MATTER: SHOULD OUR UNIVERSE EXIST?
24. FINE ART A LEVEL
25 AN EXPLORATION OF IDEOPHONES
30. FINE ART G.C.S.E
31. LAKE OF REFLECTION
35. FINE ART A LEVEL
THOMAS REA (LVITH)
OREN NOY (UVTH)
RHYS SATHYAN (LVITH)
KAMILE BALNIONIS (MVITH)
JULIANNA ZAJDA (LVITH)
HOLLY ZRINZO (UVTH)
MELODY DAWSON (O.C.)
ROSIE JACKSON (MVITH)
In this prize winning Mitchell essay, Tomas (LVIS) explores the importance of green chemistry to our future.
Green Chemistry
In recent years there has been a global acknowledgement of the environmental crisis that is imminent due to exploitation of resources (resulting in the burning of fossil fuels for various applications, large scale deforestation for farming, mining etc.), rapid development in Newly Emerging Economies (NEEs) which consequently led to the boom in industry. However, society aims to reduce these effects, which is evident in meetings such as COP-27 which pledged $100 billion a year to help finance the poorer countries, to help achieve their goals. As a result of countries attempting to finding ways to reduce the effects of climate change, there has been a rise in prominence of ‘Green Chemistry,’ which, by definition is, the ‘design of chemical products and processes which eliminates the use/ generation of hazardous substances.’
The reason for the growth in popularity is that industries globally are under a lot of pressure to minimize emissions, and a lot of the suggested changes can be highly economically taxing. For example, a report from the UK government stated that ‘[their aim is] to halve direct emissions from the public sector by 2032 and reduce [them] by 75%,’ meaning governments and industries are under a lot of pressure to minimize their emissions. As a result, industries are looking into ways they could become more sustainable, especially manufacturing companies, as the conversion of raw materials into useable products generally releases a large number of emissions, however looking for new synthetic pathways may not necessarily be economically feasible, and there are many potential setbacks, and these setbacks could potentially outweigh the benefits.
The Manufacture of Nylon
Industrially, Nylon 6,6 (which is typically used to make products such as carpets, clothing, fishing line, tennis strings) is manufactured by reacting two chemicals called hexamethylene-diamine (IUPAC name is hexane 1,6 Diamine) with adipic acid (more formally known as hexane dioic acid) and it is made industrially by reacting these two chemicals via condensation polymerization, and then the reaction mixture is heated to around 280- 290 degrees Celsius and then it is spun into fibers. This process is done on an exceptionally large scale due to the vast array of applications and uses of nylon 6,6 which is suggested by the fact that an article stated that currently around 2.1 million metric tons of Nylon 6,6 produced every year, and there is predicted to grow by 2.7% every year for the next 5 years. It has such a great demand because of its properties:
• Nylon 6,6 has a high tensile strength, so it can be used in products such as fishing line, and other recreational activities, such as tennis racket strings etc.
• It also has excellent abrasion resistance, meaning it can be used for goods such as heavy-duty workwear
• Nylon 6,6 has a great demand in the electronics industry because of its excellent insulating properties and is used as wire insulation, circuit breakers and so forth.
• Further to this Nylon 6,6 has good chemical and heat resistance, meaning there is also a demand for this polymer in the automotive industry, as it can be used in car engine components.
Despite Nylon having a vast array of useful applications, this does come with setbacks, as the manufacture of nylon requires adipic acid as one of its precursors, but the manufacture of adipic acid is responsible for 17% of the total nitrous oxide emissions. This is highly detrimental for the environment as nitrous oxide (N2O) acts both as a greenhouse gas, and it also contributes to the depletion of the ozone layer, and currently is the most dominant ODS (ozone depleting substance). This happens because nitric acid is used industrially in the production of adipic acid as an oxidizing agent, which will inevitably lead to the production of nitrous oxide gas. However, a new pathway was found, that utilizes hydrogen peroxide instead of nitric acid as an oxidizing agent to make the adipic acid. Further to this, the benefit of using this pathway instead of using the pathway that utilizes nitric acid is that it is said to result in similar or even slightly better yields. The procedure of this is as follows:
1. As detailed in source 7, the tungsten powder (which is used to prepare the catalyst) is reacted with hydrogen peroxide (of around 30% concentration). The tungsten reacts to form Tungstinic acid, which further reacts with the hydrogen peroxide to form the active catalyst, which is a tungsten based complex with the formula of H2[WO(O2) (OH)2].
2. Then add this mixture of the catalyst and peroxide to a flask, followed by hydrogen peroxide. Then add cyclohexanol to the flask.
3. Then, you set up the heat and reflux apparatus, and you should prolong the heating to about 20 hours
4. Because hydrogen peroxide is present as well as the tungsten catalyst, the cyclohexanol should be oxidized to form adipic acid.
5. Adipic acid is highly insoluble in water, so it precipitates out of the reaction mixture. The flask containing the mixture is placed in a freezer to ensure all adipic acid crystallizes out.
6. Then, using a vacuum filter, you separate the adipic acid crystals.
7. Then using a minimal amount of ice-cold water, wash out the flask, to transfer all the contents into the vacuum flask. This step should be done with ice cold water to ensure that you do not lose any of the adipic acid to maximize the yield.
8. Then leave the vacuum flask to dry for a couple of minutes to dry the adipic acid.
9. A recrystallization can be carried out to further purify the acid, and in the video exploring the synthesis, the author suggested that this can be done using boiling water, due to the increased solubility of adipic acid in hot water. After adding the water, place the mixture in a freezer to let the crystals form, then using the vacuum filter, filter off the water once more.
The benefit of using this pathway is that in the oxidation step of the cyclohexanol, hydrogen peroxide is used instead of nitric acid. This means that the only gas that is evolved is oxygen, not nitrous oxide. This paired with the fact that this reaction mixture is ‘recyclable,’ as opposed to the typical pathway that employs nitric acid, which is described as ‘a one-and-done kind of deal’. This means that the older industrial method produces far more waste. The added benefit of this new pathway is that because it is a continuous process, it could potentially keep up with the high demand for nylon a lot more easily. The growing demand is an issue, and according to Brendan Dooley (director of engineering plastics in North Americaat the consulting firm IHS Markit) the price of nylon at the time the interview was taken, the price was around $5.00 per kilogram, whereas a year before that, the price was around £2.00 per kilogram. This was due to a combination of factors, for example an adiponitrile plant (Huantai, China) exploded in 2015, which produced around 18% of the total nylon produced at the time, causing a shortage of nylon, as well as the growing demand for it due to its versatility. Further to this there is a shortage of raw materials, and the increased production of adipic acid could relieve the pressure coming from the increasingly high demand of Nylon6,6, which would benefit companies that manufacture nylon, as well as consumers as the price per kilogram should drop when the rate of production would increase.
However, one major downside of this pathway that I found is that in a source exploring the standard nitric acid process, the author only refluxed the reaction mixture for around 15 minutes, whereas the pathway that made use of hydrogen peroxide as its oxidizing agent, the reaction mixture had to be refluxed for around 20 hours. This means the energy used for this process could potentially be far greater than the typical process, thus meaning it would not be economically feasible to use this pathway for a large-scale process.
Another downside to this process is that it could be more dangerous than the nitric acid process. This is because the presence of certain metal ions can accelerate the decomposition of hydrogen peroxide. As a result, this could lead to a thermal runaway. This could be dangerous, as these often lead to
increases in temperature and are exceedingly difficult to halt. As a result, this reaction cannot take place in a steel vessel.
Above is the NFPA 704 (also called the safety square) for cyclohexanol. The safety square indicates the hazardous nature of a chemical, and the values range from 0-4. Cyclohexanol has a value of 2 for its flammability, meaning that it is even more dangerous if a thermal runaway would occur, as cyclohexanol is quite flammable. The added danger is undesirable, as the current industrial process has resulted in some accidents, for example the accident that occurred in Huantai (august 2015) as well as another major one in Tianjin (September 2015) which resulted in the deaths of 170 people. Therefore, the increased level of hazard in this already dangerous process would be highly undesirable. Nevertheless, stabilizers such as EDTA can be used to help mitigate this hazard. Overall, this process would seem a good substitute for the current industrial process, however there are many setbacks to this pathway. However new pathways are constantly being explored so that hopefully one day industries could remove such large emissions as society continues to move forward to achieve the goal of net zero emissions.
The production of ammonia
Ammonia is arguably one of the most important chemicals in agriculture and has other applications such as the manufacture of explosives, plastics, textiles, and pesticides. Nitrogen is in plentiful supply, where 78% of the earth's atmosphere is composed of diatomic nitrogen, which made it difficult to obtain, this is because nitrogen atoms form triple bonds meaning that it takes a great amount of energy to break these bonds-9.8 electron volts required to break one bond (941Kj/mol). The only naturally occurring process that can break this bond is lightning, meaning there was a scarce amount of nitrogen (in its compound form) that could be used as a source of fertilizer, so in the 19th century, guano (which was the excrement from seabirds, containing around 20% nitrogen) was in such great demand that ‘you could trade in 4 pounds of guano for 1 pound of gold,’ and for decades many scientists tried to obtain a form of nitrogen that would react more readily. It was until March 1909 the Haber process was discovered, which enabled ammonium nitrate fertilizer to be made from ammonia. This process soon became so important that it directly supports the lives of 4 billion people on this globe, and in fact around 50% of the nitrogen atoms in our body came from the Haber process . Consequently, this process uses a tremendous amount of energy as it requires a high temperature
and pressure, with this process alone consuming around 1% of the total energy produced globally. As a result, the Haber process also releases around 451 million metric tons of carbon dioxide annually. Further to this, the Haber-Bosch process sources the hydrogen necessary for the reaction from hydrocarbons (fossil fuels), which both is not beneficial for the environment, and the fossil fuel supplies are rapidly dwindling, with the estimates being that at the current rate of consumption, our supplies will run out by 2052, this will be highly detrimental to the agricultural industry, because if the Haber process is still used at that time, ammonia production will decrease due to the lack of fossil fuels, and half of the global food production depends on this process. As a result, if a suitable substitute is not found, many countries could be faced with very damaging consequences. Thus, many different processes are being investigated in order to make ammonia production ‘green.’
There are a few ways that could make this reaction less damaging to the environment. for example, you could source hydrogen from more sustainable sources using electrolysis instead of sourcing it from hydrocarbons, or use a different reaction pathway, such as the NRR (nitrogen reduction reaction) that utilizes lithium as a catalyst, so different researchers are looking into these different pathways: Around a hundred years ago, researchers demonstrated that this process could be carried out with lithium, as it is reactive enough to break the nitrogen triple bond, and more recently in the 1990s, this was done at room temperature and only 50 times atmospheric pressure. These conditions are far more mellow in comparison to the 200 degrees Celsius and 500 atmospheres of the current Haber process. Consequently, far less energy would be used to achieve these conditions, resulting in far less emissions being released when producing the energy required. In addition, as demonstrated by the overall reaction below:
This reaction uses hydrogen in its ion form, which means that water theoretically could be used as a source, meaning that it is not necessary to use hydrocarbons for this process thus minimizing emissions in that regard, however, this is still ongoing research, and this reaction requires what is known as a proton shuttle which is ‘a molecule that protonates something at one point and deprotonates at another point in the mechanism’. Even more recently, researchers tried to use phosphonium salts as a proton shuttle so that they could source the hydrogen ions from water, the
yield was found to be even better than the original demonstration in the 90s, and this occurred at an even lower pressure of 20 atmospheres. This pathway has a lot of promise, however these discoveries were quite recent, and so it will take a lot of time before this pathway could be put to practice. Another method that attempts to minimize the emissions has taken place at the Fukushima Renewable Energy Institute, whereby they source the diatomic hydrogen from the electrolysis of water as detailed by the reaction below:
While this process does consume some energy, this is far more sustainable than sourcing hydrogen from fossil fuels, and in the test plant at Fukushima, they source the energy from solar panels to drive this process. Additionally, this plant opted to operate at lower pressures that are ‘one third to one quarter that of a traditional Haber-Bosh plant,’ as stated by Mototaka Kai who is the project manager of the plant, which makes it safer as well as consuming less energy. Overall sourcing hydrogen by electrolysis, and using renewable energy works well as a concept, however the output is quite insignificant, which is further evidenced by Ian Wilkinson, the program manager in corporate technology at Siemens, who described this plant as ‘a small-scale, proof of principle system,’. In addition, sourcing energy from renewables could potentially backfire as these sources are not always reliable.
Overall, there are many pathways that could result in ammonia production that is far less damaging than the current Haber process, however these experimental systems are still and area of active ongoing research, and currently they produce around 20- 50 kg of ammonia per day, but the current demand is far greater than the output of these experimental systems. As a result, it will take a lot of time, investment and dedication before ammonia production could become a net zero process.
As a whole, the concept of green chemistry should be applied to many industrial processes, as these do have the potential to drastically minimize current emissions. However, these can be economically taxing to invest in the development of such pathways or carry out the pathways themselves and have numerous other setbacks that will not make it the ideal pathway. Therefore, it could take a while before major processes such as the Haber-Bosch (which has been around for a century or so) can be replaced with the greener processes in the global struggle of achieving net zero.
TOMAS BALNIONIS, LVITH S
In his prize winning Howard essay, Thomas (LVIL) explores the pessimism of Philip Larkin’s poetry and attempts an evaluation of the extent to which he is misanthropic.
'Writing about unhappiness is probably the source of my popularity, if I have any. Deprivation is for me what daffodils were for Wordsworth’ (Larkin 1979)
Misanthrope or Truth-Teller: To what extent is Larkin’s work pessimistic?
Philip Larkin is considered to be one of England's most influential post-war poets with many seeing his work as both a product and reflection of the post Imperial zeitgeist. Whilst Andrew Motion argues that Larkin’s poetry is reminiscent of “a very English, glum accuracy,” (Motion, 1993) other critics suggest that pessimism, rather than accuracy, is at the heart of his work. However, whether he was an enduring defeatist, or an unflinchingly honest and sometimes, tentatively, life-affirming social commentator is debatable.
Despite victory in the Second World War, the 1950s marked an age of austerity: economic recovery was slow, house prices high, and rationing a necessity. A reliance on America’s 1948 Marshall Plan to keep the economy afloat, the fall of the British Empire in addition to the Suez Crisis created a Britain much undermined on an international level. Simultaneous to this dismantling of Britain’s international identity came the 1944 Education Act, which made secondary education free, and the creation of the NHS and the welfare state. In this way, both internationally and domestically, the late 40s and 50s marked a sea change in perceptions of cultural identity and power. At the very moment that the ‘old’ way of life, dominated by upper class colonialism, was being eroded, the rising middle classes were better educated, creating a dual disillusionment with both the old way of life that had been lost and the new way of life that had, or had not, replaced it.
The literary landscape of Britain was also changing during this period with writers rejecting the American-led innovations of modernist poets like T.S Eliot and Ezra Pound and combatting the writing of poets such as Dylan Thomas who “embodied everything they detested: verbal obscurity, metaphysical pretentiousness and romantic rhapsodising.” (Lodge, 2024) One such group was The Movement’, materialising “more concretely with the appearance of Robert Conquest’s ’New Lines’ in 1956.” (Hibbett, 2008), and offering a response to post-war England. Even though he claimed to have ‘no sense at all’ of belonging to any literary movement, Larkin’s poetry was frequently anthologised alongside other Movement poets as “a poetry of disappointment, of the destruction of romantic illusions, of man’s defeat by time and his own inadequacies” (King, 1979). In this way, Larkin’s poetry is viewed as a “representative of a particularly English and middle-class set of values and feelings,”
(Hibbett, 2008) in response to a society which mourned a lost identity but which refused to celebrate–stylistically or thematically - either the past, the present or the future.
That there is a prevailing sense of something cultural being lost is evident in poems such as ‘Nothing to be said’, a depiction of the decline of different cultures and lifestyles. The poem starts with the notion of ‘Nations vague’, where the adjective connotes a much diminished identity, before comparing “cobble-close families” to ”cross-faced tribes” that have died out, in order to suggest that the UK is in decline. Larkin’s emphasis on ‘cobble-close families in mill-towns on dark mornings’ - suggests that his social commentary is rooted in a specific time and place rather than a philosophical treatise on ‘slow dying’. The use of the adjective rather than the adverb is effective in conveying a sense of stasis: the decline is almost imperceptible, the abstract quality of slow rather than slowly, aligns with the pre-historical reference to nomads and cross-faced tribes. This decline, the poem seems to suggest, is almost inevitable: just as the nomads and tribes of yesteryears have become the cobblestone families of the 1950s and 60s, like them, we too, will disappear. Spending much of his adult life in Hull, Larkin explores the growth in industrialisation and its effect on the country. Following the Distribution of Industry Act (1945), nearly 1000 factories were constructed in the North creating 200, 000 jobs (UK Parliament, 2024) and in ‘Here’, a journey to 1950s Hull is described with “rich industrial shadows and traffic all night north.” The comparison of industrialisation to a “shadow” suggests that heavy industry darkens the North and the sentence structure suggests it is mutually inclusive with the ‘traffic’ and its ubiquity. The use of the extensive litany of commercial products: “cheap suits, red kitchen-ware, sharp shoes, iced lollies, electric mixers, toasters, washers, driers,” reveals a distaste for mid century modernity, listing, as it does, the inexpensive, mass manufactured products of the industry that shroud the country. At the journey’s end, the speaker reaches the sea and its ”unfenced existence.” The use of ‘un’ as a prefix in ”unfenced” simultaneously introduces the freedom of the natural world but only does so in comparison to how "fenced” everything else is so whatever respite the natural world might offer in terms of an escape from industrialisation is qualified by the constraints of what we are escaping from. Furthermore, the final lines of the poem describe this unfenced reality as ”out of reach” suggesting that such freedom is unattainable. On first reading then, these pieces suggest a post war pessimism in regards to the changing landscape of England.
Another way in which Larkin reflects the post-war era is in his depictions of the middle-class work ethic. In distinguishing himself from The Movement poets, Ted Hughes alluded to their ‘post war mood of having had enough’ suggesting that poets like Larkin were writing from the position of wanting ‘to get back in civvies and get home to the wife and kids and for the rest of their lives not a thing was
going to interfere with a nice cigarette and a nice view of the park’ (Hibbett, 2008)(Hughes qtd in Faas 201). Here, Hughes acknowledges Alvarez’s criticism of the Movement as an ‘attempt to preserve the idea that life in England goes on much as it always has, give or take a few minor changes in the class system’ (Hibbett, 2008)(Alvarez 21 qtd). It’s easy to see how poems such as Toads and Poetry of Departures elicit this criticism in both their exploration of the lure of rebellion against societal constraints but ultimately the rejection of that rebellion in favour of a commitment to the quotidian. In ‘Toads’, Larkin explores the drudgery of work, challenging his narrator’s identity as the accepting ‘nine to five man’ (Hibbett, 2008) that Hibbett, and Heaney, paint Larkin himself to be. ”Work” is a toad that “squat[s] on [his] life,” with the verb connoting something permanently unpleasant, alluding to the uncomfortable action of crouching and punning on the occupiers’ rights of the squatter. In this way, the toad, work, is a burden that oppresses the protagonist, emphasized in the “six days of the week it spoils with its sickening poison.” Whilst the numerical reference tells us how much of life is preoccupied with work, the semantic field suggests the toxicity with which the speaker associates his profession. When he asks, “Can’t I just use my wit as a pitchfork and drive the brute off?” Larkin seems to pose a question about the necessity of having a job for those who could not fall back on inherited wealth, and questions whether the financial obligation to work (“just for paying a few bills”) and the social pressure to be a useful member of society are the ‘brute’ that oppresses him. The comparison between work and the noun “brute”, is reinforced by “pitchfork” which suggests that a violent weapon and abrupt action is required to break away from his work. In Christian literature, the pitchfork is also a symbol of the devil, suggesting that Larkin is, perhaps facetiously, even comparing work to evil incarnate. Larkin uses images of the impoverished to vindicate a rejection of the middleclass subjugation to work claiming that, despite their poverty, they “seem” to lead a happy life: “their nippers [with] bare feet, their unspeakable wives are skinny as whippets - and yet no one actually starves.” However, the modality of “seem” suggests that Larkin’s judgement is not definitive, setting up the protagonist’s confession that he lacks the conviction to rebel against the drudgery of work. In the phrase, “...were I courageous enough to shout ‘Stuff your pension!’” the hypothetical nature of the sentence conveys a sense of regret that he does not have the pluck to quit his job. There emerges, therefore, a self-loathing in the protagonist, which is amplified when he describes how the ‘toad’ within him “will never allow me” to deny the opportunity for “... the fame and the girl and the money,” the polysyndeton enhancing the compound tedium of the middle class dream of modern life. In this sense, Larkin’s protagonist illuminates our understanding of the two toads that afflict the middle class: a desire to rebel from a societal position determined by class and money and also an inability to escape such constraints. Similarly, in ‘Poetry of Departures’ Larkin’s protagonist contemplates leaving his responsibilities behind and taking off for a new life. At the opening, the speaker repeats the local
gossip appertaining to a man who made “an audacious, purifying, elemental move” of which others “approve.” The tripartite of adjectives conveys the fearlessness of his peer’s escape with the verb “approve” connoting the expected reaction of those who have not made the ‘move’. Such an inspired decision to reject social constraint seems to contrast starkly with the protagonist's own realitysurrounded by “specially-chosen junk” in a room which he “detest[s].” The use of the compound adjective “specially-chosen” jars with the noun “junk” - an image which debunks the notion of our possessions offering a carefully curated glimpse into our identity in favour of us being accidentally defined by clutter. However, such a discontent with the parameters of his own life is not used as neat fodder for validating the rebel who extricates himself from such drudgery but rather as a springboard for commenting on the fakery of the seemingly happier lives led by others, which he brands “artificial.”
This is clearly established by the end of the poem as he calls the lives of others “reprehensibly perfect” where the oxymoron mirrors the contradicting feelings of the poem and perhaps the conflicted feelings of the generation. Such conflict is evident in how the idea of escaping paid employment makes him “flushed and stirred” at the same time as it “helps [him] stay sober and industrious.” The parallel adjectival phrases confirm a complete contrast - the former suggesting excitement to the level of erotic arousal and the latter connoting a prosaic commitment to the banality of hard work. This juxtaposition, typical of Larkin’s style, suggests that the abandonment of working life is something both celebrated and discouraged by society, since the very thought of it appeals to Larkin but the possibility of its occurrence keeps him tied down. Consequently, in works such as Toads and Poetry of Departures, Larkin holds in contempt the acceptance of the banality of modern English middle class life but also constructs a damning critique of deluding ourselves that there is anything else for us. That there is a desire to be free of a pedestrian life is self evident; that there is a mockery of those who seek to idealise and glamorise such freedom is also, ambivalently, at play.
In several poems from The Whitsun Weddings, Larkin also constructs protagonists to explore the consequences of conformity but the speakers seem more authentic given that anti-heroes are named and the protagonists’ commentary oscillates more forcefully between a pusillanimous condemnation of the lives of others and a self-pondering sadness at their own existence. This leads many to see Larkin’s work as entirely autobiographical with critics such as Stephen Regan suggesting “the poetry and the personality were unusually compact” (Regan, 1992)(qtd in (Hibbett, 2008)) reflecting the fact that “life, for Larkin, and, implicitly, for all of us, is something lived mundanely, with a gradually accumulating certainty that its golden prizes are sheer illusion.” (Chad Walsh, 2024) In ‘Dockery and Son’ Larkin’s protagonist returns to Oxford which results in a meditation on how the life choices that the protagonist has made differ to Dockery, whose son has just matriculated. This meditation, as in
other poems, takes place from the vantage point of a train, where the motif of “joining and parting [railway] lines” mimics the fleetingly tangential connections we make as humans. The poem begins with a reminiscence of a shared history as he recalls how “black-gowned, unbreakfasted and still halftight we used to... give our version of these events last night.” Whilst the adjectives and the pronoun ”we” suggest a nostalgic unity, the trip down memory lane is negated by finding his old door “locked” – symbolising an inability to return to the past. There follows a reflection on how the passage of time has also detached him from his peers: unlike them, “to have no son, no wife, no house or land still seemed quite natural” to him, with the asyndetic list of negatives again emanating a sense of absence which the speaker claims, albeit tentatively, is ‘quite natural.’ However, this flippancy at the different life choices is undermined by the fact that “only a numbness registered the shock of finding out how much had gone of life,” where the noun ‘life’ points to the passage of time and opportunities that he is forced to confront, alone, in middle age. Larkin’s self-deprecation verges on becoming the overriding message when he begins to praise Dockery who “must have taken stock of what he wanted and been capable of...” The verb phrase “must have taken stock” suggests Dockery’s admirable planning and assessment of his situation before coming to the decision to start a family but the modality of this assertion reveals an uncertainty as to whether such a premeditated plan was, indeed, premeditated. However, the use of ellipsis sees Larkin hesitate before realizing ”No, that’s not the difference.” Contradicting his earlier train of thought, he ostensibly ridicules Dockery asking ”Why did he think adding meant increase? To me it was dilution.” Here, the rhetorical question attempts to humiliate Dockery and the noun ”dilution” has connotations of weakening a solution, rebutting the idea of ”adding” which suggests a fortification. For many, Larkin’s view of having a child seems to be unnecessarily miserable, embodying his overly cynical and ill-tempered character, evident in later works such as This Be The Verse. This view may be reflected in his assessment that the things we “most want to do... warp tight-shut, like doors.” Whilst the use of the superlative conveys extreme ambition, the compound adjective ”tight-shut” suggests a definitive lack of access to our aspirations. In addition to this, the verb “warp” also suggests a sudden change as if Larkin is lamenting false hope: whilst everyone believes they can achieve their dreams no-one is able to. The allusion to our lives being dictated by “something hidden from us” can be interpreted in two ways. The vague nature of the word ”something” and verb ”hidden” denotes something undiscoverable, intangible, and perpetuating Larkin’s point that we may think we can forge our own destiny but we are powerless against fate. Interestingly, this harks back to his earlier description of railway tracks, which are man-made and have a fixed, pre-determined destination. For many critics this is unequivocally churlish: having jealously debunked Dockery’s life only to realise that his own is not so great, Larkin descends into a nihilistic position claiming that everything is a fluke. However, the identity of the ”something hidden” remains
unknown rather than denied which implies that something is deciding what will happen to us which is ultimately validating. Similarly, the concluding sentiment, ”whether we use it or not, it goes” on the surface connotes a fading vitality which can appear despairing but it can also be read as an urgent, hopeful, plea for us to “use” our lives. In this way, Larkin teaches us that we are all travelling in separate directions in life - For Dockery a son, for me nothing... - but the prevailing message sees the poet espouse the value of human life, contradicting the well-trodden critical line that Larkin was a miserable man who merely criticised others for having things which he did not.
A pre-occupation with comparison of lives is also seen in ‘Mr Bleaney’, where Larkin’s protagonist rents a room where Bleaney once lived to initially comment on the prosaic life of the lower-middle class factory worker. The “thin and frayed curtains”, symbolic of Bleaney‘s life, suggest something insubstantial and barely fit for purpose. Bleaney’s old room has “no hook behind the door, no room for books or bags” - the negated phrases emphasise deprivation since they simultaneously remind us of what should be present but is not, an idea compounded by the phrase “no room” where physical space itself is negated. The litany that reveals that the protagonist ‘knows’ Mr Bleaney ironically succeeds in revealing homogeneity rather than idiosyncrasy since his life is monotonous and perfunctory: instead of dining, Mr Bleaney ”came down” at “a time”, instead of having a flutter, he is ”plugging at the four aways” and instead of taking a holiday, he is “put up” by the “Frinton folk”. The reductive description of the protagonist’s knowledge of Bleaney’s life, HIbbert would say is ‘misanthropic’, confirmed by the protagonist’s declaration that Bleaney was a man who had “no more to show than one hired box.” Again, negation is used to reduce Bleaney’s existence to a mere ”box” where the monosyllabic noun is suggestive of a coffin: that this is “hired” suggests that the only thing which can be said to be Mr Bleaney’s is owned by someone else. However, the protagonist’s condemnation of Bleaney’s life is equivocated in details such as the notion that, not only does he rent his old room but he “lie[s] where Mr Bleaney lay,” with the verb suggesting not only the literal habitation of the bed recently vacated by Bleaney but an acquiescence to his very state of being. The ending of the poem is as problematic as it is moving. A refusal to consider if Bleaney, and by association the protagonist himself, who lies in the same bed in the same room, stands at the same window and flicks ash into the same ashtray ‘warranted nothing more from life’ is left with the phrase ‘I don’t know.’ In that moment, it is unclear whether Larkin is rejecting Mr Bleaney or the notion that he, himself, is Bleaney-esque. Either way, the notion that life should ‘warrant’ more for us is the prevailing idea at the poem’s close. In this way, poems like Dockery and Son placed next to Mr Bleaney provide us with a glimpse into Larkin’s exploration of class and the paths that are predetermined for us. In both poems he explores a lack of purpose and autonomy but from different perspectives: Dockery,
Larkin suggests (before debunking) is inhabiting the upper middle class Englishman’s dream and yet this is only due to a ‘habit’ that has ‘hardened’ whereas Bleaney has nothing to show for his existence. Not much separates them, though: life has happened to them, as it happens to us all.
On the surface, Larkin also presents an equally cynical, mid century, approach to love, hope and youth. In ’Love Songs in Age’, “the unfailing sense of being young“, and ”the much-mentioned brilliance, love...” are connected in terms of the hope that the widow associated with her youth. The adjective ”much-mentioned” implies that youth and love are merely topics of frivolous discussion - talked about often but ultimately insubstantial. Furthermore, the poem’s climax is often interpreted as being archly cynical since the woman confronts that whilst love was ”still promising to solve, and satisfy... it had not done so then, and could not now.” The triplet of verbs all belong to a semantic field of wish fulfilment with Larkin implying that love is a construct that we have invented to provide ourselves with hope and some respite from the harsh reality of life. Additionally, they are all negated suggesting the futility with which we labour on under the false perception we have of the power of love. However, to suggest that the poem is not affirmative of the concept of love is incorrect. The description of love’s ”bright incipience sailing above.” connotes grandeur, happiness and hope with the noun ”incipience” revealing a sense of something beginning. The reference to ”sailing” also reflects a carefree and liberating action, whilst the imagery through the preposition “above” implies that love is heavenly or divine. The idea of love as ”brilliant” despite our unrealistic expectations of it can be seen in ‘An Arundel Tomb’ which describes the statue of an ”earl and countess” with ”his hand withdrawn, holding her hand.” This symbol of romance is, we are led to believe, a fraud: the effigy ”lie[s] in stone” about a detail created as a result of “a sculptor’s sweet commissioned grace.” The adjective ”commissioned” reminds us of the transaction that took place between this couple and the artist. This idea is reinforced by the verb ”lie” which is a pun perpetuated in the phrase that ”time has transfigured them into untruth.” However, Larkin pivots to suggest that the ”fidelity that they hardly meant” proves “our almost instinct almost true: what will survive of us is love.” The adverb ”hardly” undermines the lovers’ ”fidelity” which downplays the loyalty and love they shared. This can be coupled with the repeated word ”almost” in the poem’s final line which many have taken as Larkin’s bitter summation that love does not quite exist. Despite this apparent cynicism, the poem ends on a declarative note which speaks of hope in that ”what will survive of us Is love." The image of love in an armorial age may well be a misrepresentation of the earl and countess’ reality but our innate desire to overlook that misrepresentation, to romanticise the stone image in front of us speaks of a fundamental need to believe in our ‘almost instinct...love’ and that this instinct exists over time and across ‘endless altered
people’ creates a sense that the very thing that make us human is the ability and/or need to see loyalty and love around us.
In his depiction of a nation undergoing radical change and the subsequent disconnect in cultural identity, to many Larkin is notorious for his jealousy. To others, his unflinchingly honest appraisal of the lies we tell about ourselves and our society marks him out as a much lauded ‘bull-shit detector’ (Hibbett, 2014). To others, it is his willingness to explore the frailty of human emotion and hope that makes him enduringly popular and affirmative of the human existence. If ‘The Movement’ urged “not an abandonment of emotion but a mixture of rationality with feeling” Larkin is quite rightly the poet who “fulfil [its] credo as much as anyone else...” (Chad Walsh, 2024)
THOMAS REA, LVITH L
Rhys (LVIth L) was named runner up in the closely contested Mitchell essay prize competition. In this piece, Rhys explores the matter-antimatter imbalance.
UNRAVELLING THE MATTER-ANTIMATTER IMBALANCE: SHOULD OUR UNIVERSE EXIST?
The foundation of Physics is underpinned by how the Universe was created. The Big Bang helps us comprehend the formation of something out of absolutely nothing. Countless experiments have concluded that high energy radiation is the cause of this, as it has the capability to produce a pair of matter and antimatter particles. However, evidence also supports that when these particles collide again, they both disappear releasing pure energy. Therefore, the problem that has itched the brains of most physicists during the last century is: If our universe is made up of only matter, where are the antimatter counterparts? Equally, if all of the antimatter particles have been annihilated surely there should also be no matter. So why does our Universe even exist? How can we ponder this very question?
Although there is no confirmed answer for how our Universe came about, science attempts to explain it through the Big Bang. This is a theory stating that everything originated at a single point that was an extremely high temperature. The explanation for this heat lies in the Conservation of energy. The total energy of the Universe is currently the same as at the start, so this much energy in a small space meant that temperatures reached as high as 1010 Kelvin. This concentrated energy allowed for high energy gamma rays to split into two particles via a process called pair production. The process continued to happen, producing more and more particles, expanding our Universe over the course of around 13.8 billion years. As it expanded, the rate of pair production decreased due to the reduction in temperature. Despite the fact that this is just a theory, there are two big pieces of evidence that support the Big Bang, leading us to assume it is quite an accurate model. Firstly, we have red shift discovered by Edwin Hubble in about 1929. When looking up into space, Hubble observed that stars and galaxies emit red light - a generally low frequency wave. According to the Doppler effect, for a source travelling in a given direction, the frequency of the waves emitted behind the source decreases. He used Doppler’s effect to conclude that the galaxies are moving away from the Earth as the red light represented these reduced frequency waves behind the galaxy. This is therefore evidence of the Big Bang as the galaxies are moving away from the Earth, upporting the fact that the Universe has expanded from a single point, and continues to expand. Secondly, radio astronomers Robert Wilson and Arno Penzias discovered Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation (CMBR) in May 1964. They found that our universe at the moment has a high amount of microwave radiation, a low frequency wave. The only explanation
for this is that the radiation used to be much higher frequency gamma rays that have increased in wavelength (hence decreased in frequency) over time to fill the expanding universe. This supports the Big Bang theory because these gamma rays were required to create particles, so CMBR somewhat proves that they did exist in space at a point in time.
In 1905, Albert Einstein described electromagnetic waves as being made up of ’small packets of energy’ called photons. The higher the frequency of the wave the higher energy photons it possesses, as summarised by the Planck-Einstein relation:
E = hf
E is energy, h is Planck’s constant, and f is the frequency of a wave. Gamma rays - the radiation at the start of the Universe - have a high frequency so therefore contain high energy photons that are capable of a process called pair production, as theorised by physicists Gregory Breit and John A Wheeler in 1934. Pair production is where high energy gamma photons are able to convert completely into two particles, an electron and a positron. Both of these contain the same mass: 9.11 × 10−31kg however hold opposite charges, with the electron being negative and the positron being positive, suggested by the name. We refer to electrons as matter and positrons as antimatter. These counterparts are always made in combination with each other, meaning the number of matter and antimatter particles should be equal. The pair production process was confirmed using particle accelerators a few years after.
With the formation of matter and antimatter, there inevitably arrives the destruction of these particles. Also in 1905, Einstein related mass and energy through pair production at the Big Bang. He stated that energy can be converted completely into mass and vice versa in his paper on The Special Theory of Relativity, published in June. We have already visited the former, however when it comes to converting mass to energy, this is done by annihilation. Simply put, this is a process whereby a matter and antimatter particle collide, radiating pure energy in the form of photons while leaving no mass behind. Both annihilation and pair production can be expressed by the Relativity equation:
E = mc2
What this tells us is that during pair production, the energy, E, of the photons required is equal to the mass of the particles being produced, m, multiplied by the speed of light, c, squared. Reading the equation backwards also tells us the energy of the photon emitted from annihilation. Looking specifically at the annihilation process, if we sub in the values for the mass, Planck’s constant and speed of light, we can determine the energy released.
mc2 = (2 × 9.11 × 10−31)(3.0 × 108)2 = E
E = 1.4742 × 103J
So now we know the energy of the photons that are released from annihilation, we are able to find their frequency using equation
E=hf
1.4742 × 103J = 6.63 × 10 34 · f
f = 2.22 × 1036 Hz
In order to grasp the idea of how pair production and annihilation work in harmony, imagine the economics concept of ’creative destruction’. This refers to the forming of new technologies and industries, leading to the obsolescence of older industries. Whilst the removal of these older businesses initially seems counterintuitive, it will ultimately pave the way for newer and better ideas. It is the same on a molecular level. Particles that have been produced by gamma rays will annihilate, forming more photons that can produce newer particles which will then grow old and annihilate. So effectively, like the business model, you have a cycle of newer and newer particles being formed to replace the older ones. It is important to note that this loop only occurred close to the Big Bang because the energy was much more concentrated. You cannot naturally get pair production now because the energy much more spread out over a larger area.
Similar to how pair production forms both a positron and electron, annihilation requires both matter and antimatter, too. Using these two facts, we conclude that the number of matter particles should be equal to the number of antimatter particles. However virtually everything in our Universe is made from matter - electrons are everywhere we look. On the other hand, there are almost no antimatter particles anywhere. Even though small traces of positrons have been found, they have been proven to be formed by the ejecta of supernovae, not by the Big Bang. When stars explode, high energy photons are released and can pair produce. Therefore, in these regions, astrophysicists are able to detect antimatter traces that have not yet annihilated. Such a small amount, however, does not back up the century of theories on particle physics. If there is no antimatter, there should be no matter so theoretically we should not exist. Something has tipped the scales to allow matter to overcome its counterpart. That something is still being figured out today.
Now that we are aware of the problem that has confused the minds of the science community to this date, there are ways in which physicists have attempted to explain it. Physicist from the Soviet era, Andrei Sarakhov, claimed that in order to explain the matter-antimatter imbalance, we must fully understand three factors: CP violation, Baryon number violation and interactions outside of thermal equilibrium. They are known as the three Sarakhov conditions.
Whilst electrons and positrons were one of the early products of the big bang, a few minutes after, atomic nuclei were formed. ’A Quark-Gluon plasma, a soup of particles called quarks and gluons [produced much closer to the Big Bang] condensed to form protons and neutrons. These two particles are essentially just the building blocks of protons and neutrons. As the Universe cooled, these particles fused together to initially form a deuterium nucleus - an isotope of hydrogen. This process is called nucleosynthesis and soon the nuclei joined together to form the first stars of the universe. From then on, the stars produced the chemical elements we know today. The process of nucleosynthesis causes the release of another type of particle called the neutrino. Being the most abundant particle in the universe, when produced, these particles never interact with matter. This makes them extremely difficult to detect, and their existence took around 26 years to prove after their theoretical proposition in 1930. It also means tens of trillions of neutrinos from the Sun can run through our bodies per second, however we cannot feel them. Despite their inert nature, these particles are important for potentially explaining the imbalance of matter and antimatter. It is fitting to call neutrinos the nitrogen of particle physicsthey are both everywhere, unreactive and overlooked in terms of significance. These neutrinos have three mass states, also called eigenstates, which are able mix together to form a flavour. To date, scientists have discovered three types of neutrino flavours: electron neutrino (νe), muon neutrino (νμ) and tau neutrinos (ντ). The different flavours are determined by the proportions of the mixed eigenstates. Together, with regular electrons, muons and taus, the neutrino flavours form the lepton group of particles. There are predictions of other leptons such as the sterile neutrino, however their existence has not yet been proved. The three neutrino leptons are very similar although differ based on the interactions involved. For example, a νe is produced in beta decay, a νμ is produced in muon decay and so on. Wave-particle duality also applies for the eigenstates, with each one having a specific wavelength and frequency etc. When they mix, the flavour is determined by the superposition of the mass states at a single point. Therefore, as the mixture of neutrino mass states propagates in space, the displacement of the resultant wave can change, therefore neutrinos can oscillate between flavours. This is what will help find the answer
to why our Universe exists.
This is all because of the process is a CP symmetry violation. Charge-conjugation Parity (CP) symmetry is a model that states that when you mirror processes or reactions, the product is always the mirror image of the original. For example, for a process that produces an electron spinning to the left, the mirrored process will still produce an electron, the only difference being that it spins to the right. CP symmetry holds true for strong nuclear forces, electromagnetism and gravity, however when it comes to processes like neutrino oscillations, it is not the same. We call this CP violation, and it leads us to believe that neutrino and antineutrino oscillations have different products overall, suggesting that matter and antimatter have evolved differently over the years, leading to the imbalance. Therefore, neutrinos are essential for helping us to understand this Sarakhov condition.
In the previous subsection we looked at a group of elementary particles called the leptons, more specifically the three neutrino flavours. For studying the Baryon number, we must delve into the Quarks - a group of elementary particles that are the foundation of Hadrons. Hadrons are nonelementary particles made up of baryons and mesons. Baryons contain protons, antiprotons, neutrons and antineutrons. The mesons consist of pions, kaons and their anti-counterparts. The Baryon number is a way of combining the quarks and antiquarks in hadrons. We express it with the equation:
B = 1
3(nq − n q)
Where B is the Baryon number, nq is the number of quarks in a hadron, and n q is the number of antiquarks in a hadron. Like neutrinos, quarks also have flavours. A bar on top of a letter typically represents an antiparticle. There are six of them: Up, Down, Charm, Strange, Top and Bottom. Hadrons are defined by the quantities and flavours of quarks that they contain. For example, a proton, P, is recognised as having two Up quarks and one Down quark. A neutron, N, has one Up and two Down quarks. Applying both of these to the Baryon equation, they both have three quarks and no antiquarks, so:
1/3(nq − n q)
1/3(3 − 0)
B = 1
Looking at an antiproton, P it is effectively the opposite of the proton. It is made of two anti-up quarks and one anti-down quark, so contains a total of three antiquarks:
3 (nq − n q)
3 (0 − 3)
B = −1
Typically, baryon numbers that equal 1 indicate particles, and baryon numbers that are -1 indicate antiparticles. Things are slightly different with mesons, however. Let us now look at the pion, π. This is a meson containing an up quark and an antidown quark. Therefore, the Baryon number will be:
3 (1 − 1)
B = 0
Intuitively, when the Baryon number is 0, the number of quarks and anti-quarks in a particle are equal. In most cases, this represents a meson. The conservation of the Baryon number states that, in most cases, when a particle undergoes a reaction, ’B’ will always be the same before and after. Baryon number violation opposes this, and processes such as baryon decay and baryonantibaryon annihilation prove this. When decaying, evidence has shown that baryons can change into lighter particles like leptons or mesons, meaning the number of quarks to antiquarks would have changed throughout the reaction. Similarly, during annihilation, you are moving from quarks to pure energy (zero mass), so there is obviously a change in the baryon number. Sarakhov believed that this violation was key to understanding the matter-antimatter imbalance.
As discussed previously, the Universe is constantly expanding. The Doppler effect and Cosmic Microwave Background Radiation prove this. This expansion, however, occured, and is still occuring and an extremely fast rate. Space.com estimates that it grows at around 70 kilometers per second. Whilst this is not light speed, it is still very quick. As this rapid expansion takes place, the energy is constantly being spread over a large and larger space, meaning less energy per given area. It also means the chances of a matter and an antimatter particle colliding decreases, so they are allowed to survive rather than annihilate. This is the ideology behind the interactions outside of thermal equilibrium and explains why the matter that is everywhere we look has not annihilated.
Another way in which answers the matter-antimatter imbalance question is simply eliminating the problem. What if the antimatter had not all disappeared? What if it was still present, but just out of our sight? This is where the anti-universe theory comes into play. If what we are part of is predominantly matter, then we are part of a normal universe, however, there could be another
universe made up of mostly antimatter. It is a unique but hopeful approach because it elegantly conserves the laws of particle conservation while explaining why our universe is concentrated with matter.
To conclude, our Universe consists predominantly of matter. The Big Bang, however, caused a process called pair production, which created both particles and antiparticles in equal numbers. Annihilation also implies that the number of matter and antimatter should be equal, seeing as they both need one another. The apparent imbalance is therefore a problem and has led physicists such as Andrei Sarakhov to form hypotheses on this occurrence. Three physics areas must be fully understood in order to explain our Universe’s existence: CP violation, Baryon number violation and reactions outside of thermal equilibrium. Other theories such as an anti-universe have also been made. Therefore, the matter-antimatter imbalance remains a mystery today, but massive advancements in its explanation have been made through equipment such as the Large Hadron Collider at Cern. As we keep working on our understanding of the Sarakhov conditions, the future seems bright for finding the answer to the cause that has tipped the balance, leading to our existence.
RHYS SATHYAN, LVITH L
Julianna (LVIS) came a highly commended runner up in the Howard essay prize. In this piece she explores ideophones.
Why do things go bump in the night? An exploration of ideophones
From early childhood, we are exposed to ideophones almost daily. Children’s books are full of sound imitation such as woof-woof and meow to describe sounds heard in the world around us, but as we progress to more complicated literature, this trend of imitation – from onomatopoeia such as crash and thump to words such as zigzag and glimmer - does not disappear. The English language is full of words that reflect the sensory experiences they describe. But this linguistic phenomenon is not exclusive to English – in fact, it has been recorded in many languages throughout the world, particularly ones found in Asia and Africa (Akita, 2019). But why does sound symbolism appear with such ubiquity in the world’s languages? And why do so many unrelated languages share this word class, and even share trends in how it appears?
Mimetics, expressives and ideophones are all terms loosely characterising the same linguistic feature – words that ‘vividly depict sensory experience with marked forms’ (Akita, 2019). The term ideophone will be the one used in this paper, as the other terms are largely area specific, as well as being somewhat varied as to what exactly they describe, as ideophones are all expressed slightly differently in each language. After Doke (1935) first coined the term ideophone when examining the Bantu languages in southern and central Africa, it has become the one most commonly used in modern linguistics. Although the definition is relatively recent, ideophones have been identified and recorded for centuries, even appearing in 4th century Sanskrit linguistic documents (Dingemanse, 2018) – the process of people emulating experiences directly through how a word sounds is decidedly not a new one. Ideophones can cover a wide range of sensory experiences, and are not limited to imitating other auditory experiences, such as in the onomatopoeia examples stated before. They can cover concepts such as type and manner of motion, texture, and even moods and states of being, including emotions (Akita and Dingemanse, 2019). Although previously any direct reflection of sensory experience through word sound was deemed to be completely arbitrary (Hockett, 1960), over the past decade it has come to light that because of the characteristics that ideophones from unrelated language families share, they cannot be arbitrary – there are simply too many common factors between them. These characteristics include distinct phonotactics (rules that determine where phonemes, the parts of individual words, go) and morphology (the combination of the smallest meaningful parts of words), as well as association with specific physical gestures (Akita and Dingemanse, 2019). For example, a morphological feature often seen in ideophones is reduplication, appearing in languages spanning from Japanese to Basque - two completely unrelated languages. Reduplication is the repetition of a sound or part of a word to form a new one (Cambridge Dictionary, 2024), and an example in this paper
has already been given – zigzag. Although levels of reduplication can vary (wakuwaku, ‘excited’ in Japanese, is a full reduplication, while plisti-plasta to describe water splashing in Basque, is only partial) it is an undeniably common phenomenon, appearing also in Chewa, Edo and Quichua, as well as others (Akita and Dingemanse, 2019). Another prevailing feature of ideophones is the vowel sounds involved in describing size. In the cross-linguistical study by Shinohara and Kawahara (2010) examining Chinese, Japanese, English and Korean asserts that there are three factors that influence which vowels correspond to which size – vowel backness, vowel height, and voicing of obstruents. Vowel backness describes where the tongue is relative to the back of the mouth when saying the vowel out loud – for example, the vowel [i] (as seen in the English words heed and seed) is a ‘front’ vowel, as the tongue is furthest away from the throat, or the back of the vowel, when saying it. The vowel [ɑ] (seen in amen) is a ‘back’ vowel, as the tongue is closest to the back of the mouth. Vowel height also describes tongue position, but this time on a vertical axis – where it is relative to the roof of the mouth. The vowel [i] mentioned before would be a ‘close’ vowel as well as a front vowel, as the tongue is close to the roof of the mouth, while the previous vowel [ɑ] would be an ‘open’ vowel as well as a back vowel, as the tongue is furthest away from the roof of the mouth. Obstruents are a type of consonant that are produced when airflow is restricted, and can be voiceless (such as [p] in pumpkin) or voiced (such as [b] in bed) - the voiceless obstruents do not produce a sound in isolation, while voiced obstruents do. In the study, the participants were asked to imagine an ‘exotic’ language that they did not know. They were given a scenario in which a character, speaking this unknown language, opens a box to find a jewel and then verbally expresses how large or small it is. The participants were then asked to rate the constructed adjective that was given on a scale of 1-4, 1 being ‘very small’ and 4 being ‘very large’. The study found that the vowel [i] was consistently rated lower than vowels such as [a] and [o], despite all the adjectives given being complete nonsense words to all participants. The general trend was that the lesser the vowel height and backness, the larger the image. There was also a trend of voiced obstruents such as [d] and [b] being rated as larger than their voiceless counterparts [p] and [t]. But why do these trends, as seen in this study, hold across different languages?
The root cause of the common features seen in ideophones – the vowel size, the reduplication especially – can be attributed to biology. To explain the vowel size, we can look to perhaps the most famous linguistical phenomenon known in popular culture – the bouba/kiki effect. First discovered in 1929 by Wolfgang Köhler, it is the tendency for people to attribute nonsense words like bouba to round shapes, and kiki to spiky ones (Etchells, 2016). This experimental setup has been performed numerous times since 1929, and has been repeated with English speakers, non-English speakers, young children and even the congenitally blind, always producing the same results (Aleksandra Ćwiek et al., 2021). Researchers explain this phenomenon as being a result of the association of lip shape
and tongue placement as the word is produced with the meaning of the word itself – the word kiki requires a ‘sharp’ movement against the roof of the mouth, while the word bouba requires a rounded mouth shape (Etchells, 2016). This is echoed in the findings of the Shinohara and Kawahara 2010 study, where they ascribe a larger ‘resonating cavity’ (the available space in the mouth where sounds can be produced) to the association of a larger image size. Along the same vein, when voiced obstruents are produced by speakers, the size of the oral cavity increases (similar to when back and open vowels are produced) and so again, are linked to a larger image size. As the biology of the mouth is common to all humans as a species, it is then unsurprising that these trends of vowels dictating shape and even size are seen across many examples of ideophones from a variety of different languages. The bouba/kiki phenomenon, as used in ideophones, can also explain some of why ideophones are still in such common use, as well as the origin of ideophones as a whole. Imai and Kita (2014) propose that iconicity in a language (how a word’s form relates to its meaning) helped humanity’s ancestors to quickly build a wide lexicon that could encompass more than just objects – ideophones are very rarely object names, and more usually take the form of verbs and sometimes adjectives, so sound symbolism as a whole is proposed to have allowed for the quick development of associating other sensory experiences and concepts with verbal forms that could be understood relatively easily. Furthermore, they propose that initial development of an ideophone can lead to the development of words with more arbitrary meanings, all stemming from the initial word. They use Japanese to illustrate this, starting with the word gorogoro, meaning a heavy object rolling repeatedly. From this word, there spans a whole family of related concepts, such as goron, a heavy object rolling once, koron, a light object rolling once, guruguru, a heavy object rotating around an axis repeatedly, and gurun, a heavy object rotating around an axis once. In all these examples, there are clear links between phonemes and meaning. The r is linked to rotational movement, while the n indicates that the movement has stopped, and the reduplication indicates a continuous action. The original ideophone, gorogoro, has facilitated the construction of more arbitrary words to describe concepts, and arbitrariness is what leads to the development of language away from proto-language - therefore through ideophones, this can be achieved more quickly. But why are ideophones still in use today, when language has largely moved away from sound symbolism and towards arbitrariness? One proposition as to why ideophones are still so common in language today is that they are an aid to language learning, particularly to young children. The trend of reduplication especially belies the aiding nature of ideophones, which can be seen especially in Japanese, where ‘motherese’, or the special language used by caregivers with their infants, known more commonly in English as ‘babytalk’ shares the disyllabic, reduplicative form of ideophones (Akita and Parudeshi, 2019). The fact that Japanese ‘babytalk’ has unintentionally expanded to include ideophonic reduplication to nouns (such
as the word wanwan, dog, which reflects the sound a dog makes) while in adult talk this is almost nonexistent, implies that reduplication itself plays a big role in the acquisition of language by children. This could be a result of the natural rhythm of reduplication. The equal alternation of consonants and vowels provides an easy ‘beat’ to follow, and as infants are very sensitive to rhythm in general, especially before lexical development (before they can form recognisable words) they will tend to follow these words more easily (Langus et al., 2017). In fact, when first producing speech, young children will use reduplication forms themselves, both as a tool to learn intonation patterns, and as a means of emotional emphasis (Ibrahim and Ibrahim, 2016). As well as reduplication, young children are also naturally sensitive to sound symbolism as a whole, as seen in the studies by Imai et al., 2008, and Maurer et al., 2006, where children as young as 25 months old participated in variations of the bouba/kiki experimental setup (with Imai analysing verbs, and Maurer analysing nouns), both producing the typical results discussed before. Therefore, the use of ideophones in modern language can be seen as a way to support fast language acquisition in infants, which perhaps explains the ubiquity of it in children’s books. By learning words that imitate the referant (the thing making the sound), children learn to associate ideas and concepts more quickly, which is the same basis of Imai and Kita’s (2014) proposition of the original development of ideophones in early language. The principal concept is the same – the more iconic the word, the more easily it will be learnt, and from there, arbitrary language can be naturally developed.
There are some concerns that ideophones, as a subset of words, are dying out. While this is not especially a risk for English, who’s number of ideophones is relatively few and mostly limited to onomatopoeia, or to languages like Japanese, where sound symbolism is so ingrained that there are over a thousand conventional examples of ideophones in it (Akita, 2017), in some languages such as Zulu, there is a real threat of this word class dying out (Childs, 1996). Childs has made a projection showing that, as a result of the synchronic variation (the state of a language at a particular time) that Zulu is showing due to urbanization, ideophones are at risk of disappearing, based on other similar synchronic variations. Another threat to ideophones is the perception of them as ‘childish’ language. Early in their discovery, ideophones were denounced by Max Müller (1861) as “playthings, not tools, of language”, and this idea is still sometimes perpetuated today, as described by Dingemanse (2018), who describes the idea of ideophones being “playthings” as one of the challenges facing modern ideophone research. To refute this misconception, he argues that ideophones are remarkable in that they are a word class in which ‘depictive speech has taken on a life of its own’. Ideophones are used in daily life, but are also extremely poetic – there is no other word class that can describe sensory experiences to the degree that ideophones can, and there is no other word class that is proven to be understood cross-linguistically (proven in Shinohara and Kawahara, 2010, as well as Iwasaki et al.,
2007, where in both studies there were examples of ability to determine meaning from nonsense or unfamiliar words, even if in the latter some sound symbolism was proven to be language-specific). This class of words draws attention to itself, and indeed are often paired with iconic gestures or drawnout vowels (Akita and Dingemanse, 2019) in order to make them stand out even more – in a sentence, they play a deliberate aesthetic role that no other word class can fill, although this can be felt more in non-Western languages where ideophones are not mostly limited to onomatopoeia (Dingemanse, 2011). Apart from aesthetic reasons, ideophones can also serve as a tool for verification and information exchange (Nuckolls, 1995), which Dingemanse (2011) supported with a study in Western Africa that showed that participants speaking Siwu, when asked to describe given sensory concepts such as a sweet taste or jagged texture, preferred to use ideophones that conveyed more precise information about the experience, rather than arbitrary adjectives. Ideophones in modern speech can serve a twofold purpose, both as a purely aesthetic function, and as a tool to describe a fuller sensory experience.
Returning to the original question, why do things go bump in the night? Derived from the sound itself, this verb reflects the action of an object coming into heavy, direct contact with something else. With the vowel used being an open, back vowel, we would presume instinctually that this object was decently heavy, or that the collision was substantial. Assuming that the word is learnt as a child, a lot of information can be immediately learned directly from how the word itself sounds, and from there, the word ‘bump’ sets us up to learn the arbitrary definitions now associated with it – including its use of a noun, as in ‘bulge’, or as an act of moving something upwards suddenly, as in ‘he got bumped up a few positions’. There are countless examples of ideophones just like this one, in countless languages around the world. The role of ideophones in both child language acquisition and in modern speech cannot be denied, and by examining ideophones further, we can uncover the ways in which they can be utilised in the future. The possibilities of using ideophones in second language acquisition to make language learning more efficient in adulthood are being explored, and so is further analysis of ideophones as the ‘fossils’ of the language world in order to establish more of the history of protolanguage development. Ideophones are in no real danger of dying out on a large scale, simply due to them being ingrained so heavily in language and culture, especially in childhood – and future research of them promises a wealth of glimmering possibilities.
JULIANNA ZAJDA, LVITH S
Melody, who left Chigwell last year, produced this piece as part of her A level in music.
Lake of Reflection
I find it fascinating how the appearance of a landscape changes, not only in different seasons, but also at various times of the day and in different lights. Perhaps more interestingly, the perception of a scene can also change dramatically according to the mood of the observer. This is the inspiration behind ‘Lake of Reflection’. Although through-composed, this piece contains three sections which portray a lake landscape awakening at dawn, then vivid and bustling, and finally descending into the somewhat eerie peace of nightfall. My composition represents a lake that reflects in the literal sense, but also a place to lose oneself in contemplation. Stylistically, I was inspired by 20th Century Art Music and Minimalism, along with elements of folk music. Unlike conventional symphonic works, the three sections in my composition are structured slow-fast-slow to mirror the sense of pace at different points in a day. Following 20th Century Art Music composers such as Messiaen and Sculthorpe, the colourful harmony of this piece is designed to stir emotions, rather than follow functional purposes.
Lake
‘Lambent Lake’ represents the lake at dawn: the radiant sunrise and tranquillity before the day begins.
My composition opens with a soft, gentle bassoon solo. The bassoon is heard from multiple directions, giving the impression that it is reflected from one side of the stage to the other.
The melodic line features a Scotch snap, inspired by Scottish folk music - a style of composition that I feel effectively depicts the natural beauty of water. Scottish folk music is particularly relevant to ‘Lake of Reflection’ since Scotland is renowned for its many Lochs.
I then introduced a gradual build-up of strings, echoing the sense of awakening and portraying the depths of the lake. Multiple polyrhythmic parts are brought in, with 5:3 rhythms played by flutes and clarinet, while horns play quadruplets. These polyrhythms represent the constant movement of water, often moving in contrary motion, as if they are reflected. These parts are sustained over many bars and diminuendo to pp, depicting a moment of stillness. The bassoon soli is then heard calling, as it shines through the other parts, increasingly bouncing from stage left to stage right - like light being refracted through water. Throughout this section, the original theme is repeated, with each repetition modulating and more parts being added. This augmentation represents the brightening day, as the sun rises. I chose harp for its elegant, magical, ethereal timbre, which I thought was very well-suited to this mystical scene. In each repetition, the harp has contrary motion-based patterns which create an effect similar to reflections in water.
On the repeat (illustrated to the left), the flute takes the opening bassoon solo however, in this instance, the beginning of the motif is inverted, suggesting a blurred reflection in the lake. These three inverted notes are sequenced, being played by the bassoon a perfect 4th higher, and then by the clarinet, an interval of a perfect 4th again above the bassoon part. This technique is used to suggest the daybreak progressing.
The first section ends with an interweaving flute and oboe duet. The use of higher-pitched wind instrumentation depicts the sun shining down onto the lambent lake.
Ripples
This section is busy and active, representing the middle portion of the day. It begins with a single, repeated theme, then more ideas and voices are layered over this as the section progresses.
The tempo is now faster, and the note lengths are shorter, giving this portion a more energetic and cheerful character. The section begins with just one melodic line played by brass instruments, which have a bright and bold sonority. This is accompanied by percussive string parts. A bassoon playing the same theme, but a 5th higher, is then layered over the original melody. A new theme played by flute is then introduced as an additional layer. The motif is continually developed as it is repeated through this section. Eventually, the individual parts become lost in a blur of sound. This busy cacophony of different themes and timbres represents the increased activity in and around the lake: the myriad of smells, sounds, colours, creatures, and textures. This use of repetition of a theme and layering are inspired by the techniques of minimalist composers, such as Steve Reich and Philip Glass. I chose to use these techniques in ‘Lake of Reflection’ because repetition and sonic blurring can induce a trance state. This supports my intention to evoke emotion and reflection in the listener.
As folk music is another inspiration behind ‘Lake of Reflection’, I wrote this section in 10/8, since irregular metres are often used in this genre. I chose this particular time signature to add interest and create a sense of ‘chaos’ due to its unpredictability. It also enhanced the animated, dance-like feel of this section.
Additionally, there is a sense of constant motion. This momentum is largely produced by the accompanying rhythmic pattern, which splits the 10 beats into 3-3-2-2. This pattern creates an effect of rushing into the next bar, urging the music onwards. The continual motion in this section is designed to portray the breeze and the various elements of life creating ripples on the lake’s surface. In bar 111, there is a sudden transition as the music becomes less dense and the tonality changes to minor. As dusk approaches, the previous chaos and lack of control transitions to a more calm, mysterious character. This sense of peace is strengthened by the comforting familiarity of the (slightly adapted) original bassoon solo returning, as it emerges from the other parts.
Part of the theme in bar 115 is inverted and repeated in different instrumental parts, creating an effect of small ripples.
Dusk Descent
‘Dusk Descent’ is more ominous and pensive, symbolising the closing of the day as it descends into nightfall.
The tempo is significantly slower now, giving the listener time to reflect on the day. The texture is built upon oscillating chords in the strings, where glissandi are used to blur the pitch. This results in a constant veil of microtones, which sounds uncertain and mysterious. These glissandi have been hinted at throughout the piece, such as in bars 23, 39, 46, and 59, reinforcing the relationship between the three sections.
I used pizzicato violin and xylophone parts to create a dripping effect, which contributes to the trance-like atmosphere.
The melody is passed between different instrumental parts, the tonality changes frequently, and the dynamics in the strings change continually. This constant change creates a flickering effect, suggesting that the day is down to its last reserves of energy. The final ‘drip’ in bar 138 heralds that night has fallen.
The last passage is comprised of compound descending 5ths , which form quintal harmony. This descending sequence conveys a sense of gradual shutting down. A chromatic cluster of sustained notes remains. They are held, creating a sense of stillness and finality. The piece dies away, from ppp to niente, representing the dark and silent cloak of night.
If you would like to listen to Melody’s composition, please use the QR code below.
