Sense of Place
Sensors. They are everywhere. The automatic door to
the grocery store magically opens when we step on the mat.
The motion-detector lights snap on in the back yard when a
person (or a cat) travels across the lawn. The faucet,
soap dispenser, and other fixtures in the restroom do
their thing at the airport with almost no effort from the
user. These sensors are reactive; they lie in wait for
individuals to “do something” and then they spring
into action.
The sensors involved in earth observation collect
information. Some do it continuously; others every few
seconds, minutes, hours or days. Still, others wait for
specific circumstances to be achieved before beginning
data collection. These sensors take the shape of fancy
“cameras” housed on car-sized satellites in orbit, or
of cell phone-sized boxes screwed to the basement wall to
sniff carbon monoxide. While visible, they have an
invisible quality and play key roles in our lives. I
don’t think much about the weather sensors in orbit, but
I do see the images they produce and listen to the weather
forecasts. I don’t know how the carbon monoxide sensor
in the basement works, but I do know that if the green
light should turn to red, there’s a problem.
So, when do sensors become visible? One instance is
when they appear to, or actually do, infringe on privacy.
For example, at this year’s Olympics, reporters and
visitors acknowledged the eerie feeling of being watched.
They were watched. City-wide surveillance cameras kept an
eye on athletes and fans, underwater sensors assessed the
action below the surface, and a blimp sniffed at the air.
Sensors also become more visible when they do not work.
What is more frustrating than when the pressure sensor in
the road does not, eventually, change the light? A third
instance when we think about sensors is when they really
matter. The sensors at the Olympic venues, the ones which
determined who won, fall into that category.
Imagine having to build a sensor pad sensitive
enough to feel a swimmer’s finger touch, but not too
sensitive, such that it “feels” the push of the water.
Imagine having to manage a system that can distinguish
between one of several runners, who cross the finish line
within hundredths of a second of one another. When these
sensors and their automated timing brethren were first
introduced, athletes and many fans didn’t like the idea.
Over time, we all came around, remarking on their accuracy
and dependability.
Unfortunately, the data collected for earth
observation is not as cut and dried as timing a swimming
race. The sensed data needs a time and location stamp.
And, to be meaningful, the data typically has to be
combined with other data and interpreted. Interpretation,
while aided by computers, is still primarily the task of
the human mind. The computer between our ears, the one
filled with intuition, experience and bias, can find
patterns, tease out connections, and simply be more
thoughtful than any computer. And, that same mind is
susceptible to errors, as many gymnastics watchers at the
Olympics learned.
Sensors are at some level “dumb” data
collectors. We must “tell them” what to sense, how to
code the information, and ultimately where to send the
data once it’s collected. So, while new types of sensors
in smaller packages in new locations are filling database
upon database with terabyte upon terabyte of information,
let’s be appropriately humbled by the fact that
ultimately, it’s our responsibility to make sense of the
data and choose the best path forward.
Adena Schutzberg, Editor
We’re proud to announce that
Patty Smith, our managing editor, gave birth to Nicholas
Smith on September 3. Mom, Dad (Rob), big brother Page,
and Nicholas are all doing well.
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