One thing I’ve noticed about my years working in the policy arena here in Washington, D.C., is that I mainly read nonfiction. I think that’s unfortunate, because a great novel allows one to peer into an alternate universe in a way where only the structure of the prose constrains the world of the book. For each reader of a novel, that created universe is unique. Probably the same is true for each reread of a great story, even by the same reader.

Moby-Dick takes place in the Whaling World of the 19th century, which was centered in New England, specifically Nantucket, a small island off the coast of Massachusetts. The novel is deeply symbolic, as we might recall from our school days past, but the main characters are a malevolent sperm whale and a crazed, one-legged whaler captain obsessed with revenge for his lost limb. The action takes place on the vast oceans and is witnessed by a narrator, Ishmael, who might be every American, at least of the De Tocqueville era in which the book was written.

I once lived on Nantucket and, for many years after, spent time in Woods Hole, 25 ocean miles away on the mainland, where I cut my teeth as a working scientist. So the world of Moby Dick is one I can relate to.

But more interestingly, to me, the stuff of the fictional universe, with its catastrophic battle between man and leviathan, leavened by rich human-to-human relationships, is what is much richer the second time around, after four decades.

A day to honor those who work for a living and to mark the end of meterological summer.

Even though our semester begins in late August, for me, this day marks the symbolic start of the academic year, with all its potential and promise. This term, my undergraduate class surveys Vannevar Bush’s vision in Science: The Endless Frontier — how federal investment in basic research could jump-start both the US economy and public health. My graduate class, as always, focuses on managing significant US government crises. Both classes are at their respective enrollment targets, so I’m really pleased.

The research agenda continues with NSF’s Sage Grande AI Testbed and the just-blogged new book project on commercial aviation, where I’m currently revising a book proposal and completing a sample chapter on flight envelope protection philosophies.

And I’m rereading Moby Dick! It’s been many decades since I first dashed my way through the pages under the deadline of my English professor at Amherst College. This time, I’m hoping that going slowly will give me a better appreciation for Melville.

From today’s NYT, here.

I’m embarking on what may be the most intellectually stimulating research project I’ve ever undertaken: a new book that explores the fascinating divergence between European, American, and Brazilian approaches to aviation technology. The initial insight came from studying supersonic transport development—Europe succeeded with Concorde while America’s programs were cancelled despite technical success, and Brazil’s Embraer took yet another path entirely, building a global powerhouse by focusing on regional jets. What started as curiosity about why aviation developed so differently across continents has evolved into a comprehensive examination of how culture, politics, and history shape our technological choices in the skies.

One of the most compelling discoveries has been tracing “systemic safety” approaches in aviation back to 19th-century Continental Europe, where systematic, preventative frameworks emerged that still influence modern European aviation through EASA standards and Airbus consortium models. American approaches emphasize market solutions and competitive development. At the same time, Brazil’s Embraer represents a fascinating hybrid—originating as a government-sponsored entity in the 1970s but evolving into a nimble, market-focused competitor that combines elements of both European industrial policy and American entrepreneurial agility. Every case study reveals cultural DNA embedded in technological choices, from NASA’s technically successful but commercially abandoned High-Speed Research Program to Europe’s patient consortium-based development philosophy.

The detective work energizes me most—tracing aviation ideas across centuries, connecting aircraft design choices to deeper cultural patterns, and discovering how 19th-century Prussian technical standards influenced modern airworthiness certification. I’m spending months in aviation archives, interviewing aerospace engineers, visiting manufacturers across Europe and the Americas, and exploring the organizational cultures of institutions ranging from NASA and Boeing to startups like JetZero and Boom Supersonic. Understanding these different approaches isn’t merely academic curiosity; it’s essential for navigating challenges such as sustainable aviation, electric aircraft, and the revival of supersonic flight through entirely new players.

This isn’t about declaring winners—each approach has produced remarkable innovations from the Wright Brothers to Concorde, from the 747 to Embraer’s revolutionary regional jets, and now to startups like JetZero’s radical blended wing designs and Boom’s quest to bring back supersonic passenger flight. Instead, it’s about understanding how culture shapes aviation technology in ways often invisible until we step back and see the bigger picture. The story of aviation’s divergent development turns out to be about democracy, capitalism, geography, and human values—all expressed through our concrete choices about how we design and deploy our flying machines, from legacy manufacturers to Silicon Valley upstarts. It’s an adventure in ideas, and I can’t wait to share what I discover.

You can buy it here.

Biotech may be in trouble post-COVID–see WSJ here. Whether the glut of biotech real estate is a leading or trailing indicator is not answered, but I think it’s essential to understand what these data mean.

At my own institution, I watched as high-quality biotech space was repurposed as office modules–a massive waste of resources. If this trend is a leading indicator, it’s even more troubling because we still have a ton of public health challenges out there that remain without cures of even viable treatment.

Yes, it’s that time of year again: our GMU academic year is about to begin a week from tomorrow. For my online students, we’ll be meeting on Zoom; the link will be on Canvas. For my in-person students, I’m looking forward to greeting you all in person a week starting a week from this Tuesday.

As always these days, we’ll be making extensive use of padlet boards which are included on Canvas and then can be bookmarked.

Just back from the same to this news.

That’s my image, from Hamilton Island…

Each summer, we welcome a group of very talented high schoolers from across the US to learn about bioinformatics, AI, and data sciences in the context of biomedical research. Above is this year’s very successful group: you’ll see them as tomorrow’s biomedical superstars.