156
S. George Philander
sponsored by various European colonial powers, followed immediately afterwards.
The results were often published in atlases because, beneath its restless surface, the
ocean was assumed to be unchanging. By the time of World War II the sum of all the
measurements made on the various expeditions enabled oceanographers to arrive at
a fairly accurate picture of the various components of the oceanic circulation. (The
only major current to go unnoticed was the Equatorial Undercurrent which was discovered accidentally in 1953.) Efforts to explain how the winds determine different
features of the circulation were off to a brilliant start with the studies of Sverdrup
4
and Stommel.
5 However, in 1954 Stommel
6 circulated a paper with the title “Why
do our ideas about the ocean circulation have such a peculiarly dream-like quality?”
Marrying measurements and theory would prove a major challenge.
1957 TO 1982
The launching of Sputnik contributed to a significant increase in the number of scientists entering the field of oceanography. I am one of those children of Sputnik. At
Harvard University, under the tutelage of Allan Robinson, I was reared on Geophysical Fluids—stratified, rotating liquids. An interesting example of such a fluid is a cup
of tea that has been stirred until it is in rigid body rotation. The tea returns to a state
of rest in a surprisingly short time, significantly shorter than the diffusive time scale
based on the dimensions of the cup. The explanation involves secondary circulations
through thin diffusive boundary layers along the walls of the cup. In the 1960s, results
such as these were applied to the oceanic circulation. My early contributions lengthened the list of “dream-like” ideas about the time-averaged oceanic circulation, but
then, at MIT, Jule Charney encouraged me to explore oceanic variability.
Documentation of the time dependence of oceanic conditions requires simultaneous measurements over large areas, over extended periods. To acquire such data
oceanographers were obliged to change their mode of operation significantly. Under
the auspices of the International Decade of Ocean Exploration—the 1970s—they
developed programs that coordinated the efforts of numerous investigators at many
institutions in several countries. For guidance as regards appropriate measurements—
the vastness of the oceans meant that only a few regions could be studied—many
programs had “theoretical panels” whose members were mostly land-based and did
not contribute significantly to the acquisition of data. When I joined the Geophysical
Fluid Dynamics Laboratory (GFDL) in the early 1970s the director Joseph Smagorinsky wisely advised me to join a panel or two because they would provide access to
the data that are needed to check theories and models. To me and my close collaborator Ron Pacanowski, GFDL was and continues to be the ideal institution for such
involvement, not only because of its superb and supportive staff, but also because it
has always attracted a steady stream of outstanding students and visiting scientists
from whom I learnt a great deal.
S. George Philander
sponsored by various European colonial powers, followed immediately afterwards.
The results were often published in atlases because, beneath its restless surface, the
ocean was assumed to be unchanging. By the time of World War II the sum of all the
measurements made on the various expeditions enabled oceanographers to arrive at
a fairly accurate picture of the various components of the oceanic circulation. (The
only major current to go unnoticed was the Equatorial Undercurrent which was discovered accidentally in 1953.) Efforts to explain how the winds determine different
features of the circulation were off to a brilliant start with the studies of Sverdrup
4
and Stommel.
5 However, in 1954 Stommel
6 circulated a paper with the title “Why
do our ideas about the ocean circulation have such a peculiarly dream-like quality?”
Marrying measurements and theory would prove a major challenge.
1957 TO 1982
The launching of Sputnik contributed to a significant increase in the number of scientists entering the field of oceanography. I am one of those children of Sputnik. At
Harvard University, under the tutelage of Allan Robinson, I was reared on Geophysical Fluids—stratified, rotating liquids. An interesting example of such a fluid is a cup
of tea that has been stirred until it is in rigid body rotation. The tea returns to a state
of rest in a surprisingly short time, significantly shorter than the diffusive time scale
based on the dimensions of the cup. The explanation involves secondary circulations
through thin diffusive boundary layers along the walls of the cup. In the 1960s, results
such as these were applied to the oceanic circulation. My early contributions lengthened the list of “dream-like” ideas about the time-averaged oceanic circulation, but
then, at MIT, Jule Charney encouraged me to explore oceanic variability.
Documentation of the time dependence of oceanic conditions requires simultaneous measurements over large areas, over extended periods. To acquire such data
oceanographers were obliged to change their mode of operation significantly. Under
the auspices of the International Decade of Ocean Exploration—the 1970s—they
developed programs that coordinated the efforts of numerous investigators at many
institutions in several countries. For guidance as regards appropriate measurements—
the vastness of the oceans meant that only a few regions could be studied—many
programs had “theoretical panels” whose members were mostly land-based and did
not contribute significantly to the acquisition of data. When I joined the Geophysical
Fluid Dynamics Laboratory (GFDL) in the early 1970s the director Joseph Smagorinsky wisely advised me to join a panel or two because they would provide access to
the data that are needed to check theories and models. To me and my close collaborator Ron Pacanowski, GFDL was and continues to be the ideal institution for such
involvement, not only because of its superb and supportive staff, but also because it
has always attracted a steady stream of outstanding students and visiting scientists
from whom I learnt a great deal.