n
this interview, in-cites correspondent Gary Taubes talks with
Dr. Bill McDonough about his highly cited paper, "The
composition of the Earth" (McDonough W.F. and Sun S.S., Chem.
Geol. 120[3-4]: 223-53, 1 March 1995). This paper is among
the 10 most-cited papers in the Geosciences field over the
past decade, according to the ISI
Essential Science Indicators
Web product, with 700 cites to date. Dr. McDonough’s
citation record in this field for the last decade includes 25
highly cited papers with a total of 1,235 citations to date.
Dr. McDonough is an Associate Professor in the Department of
Geology at the University of Maryland in College Park.
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What prompted the research that led to your 1995 paper on the
chemical composition of the Earth?
It has something of a history. In 1982, Shen-Su Sun, my
co-author, published a paper on primitive mantle composition. You
can think of it this way: if the Earth is divided into a metal, a
rock, and a wet airy part, which is the atmosphere-hydrosphere, Shen-Su
was talking about the rock—about what its composition was before
we made a crust. Shen-Su wrote this paper and I found it really
interesting, although I didn’t know him at the time. Then when I
chose Australian National University for my Ph.D. program, I met
Shen-Su and we developed and still have a wonderful friendship. We’ve
always had this constant repartee about being abreast of the
literature and the elements. It reminded me of my days of playing
with baseball cards, but now I began doing the same kind of thing
getting to know the abundance of all the elements in various
systems.
Any systems in particular?
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“It reminded me of my days of playing with baseball cards, but now I began doing the same kind of thing getting to know the abundance of all the elements in various systems.”
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It didn’t really matter for me. Basalt, mantle, core, sea
water, meteorites—it never mattered. It was just like knowing
batting statistics from baseball cards. It didn’t matter what it
was. If a paper was talking about the abundance of elements, I would
try to make some systematic sense out of it. As part of Ph.D., I did
a refinement of the composition of the primitive mantle, and then I
just took that as a jumping point for the composition of the Earth,
which puts together the mantle, core, and atmosphere.
So your Ph.D. dissertation evolved into your highly cited Chemical
Geology paper?
Well, I finished my Ph.D. in 1987. It got examined—that took
forever. It was 1988 when it was listed. But when I tried to go from
the primitive mantle, which is the tightest constraint, to the rest
of the planet, I guess I got scared, if you will. I didn’t want to
make any mistakes. Sometimes we have to live with our mistakes for a
very long time in this business. So between 1987 and 1995, I had a
considerable amount of trepidation about putting it all together as
a statement and putting my name on it. In 1989, there was a paper by
Sun and McDonough, and, in 1995, we had McDonough and Sun. The
first, "Chemical and isotopic systematics of oceanic basalts:
implications for mantle composition and processes," (in Magmatism
in the Ocean Basins, Spec. Publ. Vol. Geol. Soc. Lond. 42:
313-45, 1989. 2,448 cites, according to the Web of Science),
was about basalts. You melt the Earth’s mantle, and you get
basalts at the surface. We were trying to write a story about
basalts. It wasn’t germane to that paper, but in that paper, and
as a derivative out of the thesis, we published a statement about
the abundance of about 25 elements in the primitive mantle. And we
also said a McDonough and Sun paper would be forthcoming. That’s
like saying a check is in the mail. It wasn’t truly misleading,
but I hadn’t mustered it all together at that point. I was
planning on it.
Were you publishing other papers in this six-year time period?
I probably had 20 papers or so.
Were the papers on this same subject, or on subjects you could publish
just to satisfy academic requirements?
It was kind of like keeping on task, but also taking on other
tasks at the same time. In 1990, for instance, I published a paper
on gallium. At the same time, I also published one on the
composition of the continental lithospheric mantle. I needed to
understand that better to get back to estimating the primitive
mantle composition. So I went down a different road for a while just
so I could understand my main highway better. In 1994, I wrote
another one on isotopic systematics of the continental lithosphere.
That was the same thing. In the interim, I kept refining my ability
in this or that realm. In 1992, myself, Sun, and several big people
in the business wrote a paper together on potassium, rubidium, and
cesium in the earth and moon. Each step of the way I was increasing
my confidence about my estimates, and I was being challenged by the
community and I was challenging myself.
How did you decide you knew enough and had sufficient confidence to
finally publish?
I can highlight two pivotal events. Around 1992, Ted Ringwood
from Australian National University said he was really upset with me
for having not published my paper yet. Ted passed away in 1993. He
was an absolutely fantastic scientist. I kept telling him I was
working at it but didn’t feel it was the right time. He said he
was going to quote my Ph.D. dissertation, and asked if I minded him
quoting my table. It was going to be an invited article in one of
our premier journals. I was thrilled he wanted to do this. But
publishing my entire table essentially publishes everything. His
paper is cited in part for the numbers in that paper. Ted gave all
due credit to me, but I knew after that I was committed to having to
write and publish my paper pretty soon. Ted just referenced
"McDonough Ph.D. thesis." About a year after that Kargel
and Lewis published a paper in Icarus on the composition of
the Earth, and did a mathematical model and cited my Ph.D.
dissertation, albeit wrongly as a 1975 publication. Every element
has a bin and you fill this bin up with whoever has published on
that element. If you look at all their data, it was exceptionally
dominated by my answers. It dominated their analysis. That said, I
had no more time to wait—I’d better publish my paper.
Why do you think your paper has received so much attention? Why is it
so highly cited?
You could say it provides a reference frame. A lot of people have
models out there for a little portion of the Earth: say, rare earths
in the upper mantle, or scandium content of the what-have-you. But
people need a reference frame that covers everything, and so the
potential exists for everyone to make this comparison between my
paper and many other papers. Because my paper covers the composition
of the Earth for all the elements in the periodic table and it
compares it to the reference frame for what we believe to be a close
approximation to the most primitive meteorites, mine provides the
reference frame for all these comparisons. And then I hope the other
reason they’re citing it is that the same table that has all the
data also has uncertainty factors associated with each element. It
tells you how well we know that element. So one reason they cite it
so much is that they need a reference frame, and they can keep going
to one reference frame that’s coherent in the sense that it
discusses all the elements, not just some of them.
How has the picture changed in the 10 years since you published the
paper? Or to put this question a different way, if you were going to
rewrite the paper today, how would you do it differently?
As for the second question, and this will sound horribly
arrogant, I would say if we did this again today, we’d take the
very same approach. That may be expressing a fairly pedestrian
mindset on my part, but I can’t think of an alternative approach
that will get you there. As for the first question, what’s
happened since, there are a number of very large issues that remain
unanswered. In fact, I would like one of my papers that came out
last year to be almost as well-cited as the McDonough and Sun. In
the last 10 years I have shifted a great portion of my academic
research agenda to trying to refine compositional models of the
Earth’s core. Last year I published a paper entitled
"Compositional models of the Earth’s core" (in The
Mantle and the Core [ed. R.W. Carlson] Volume 2: Treatise on
Geochemistry [eds. H.D. Holland and K.K. Turekian], Elsevier-Pergamon,
Oxford, 2003) trying to estimate that. It’s really difficult and I
would say we are making progress, and we’re making progress in
understanding the composition of the deep Earth’s mantle.
Are there any particularly controversial areas in this area?
Well, for instance, there’s presently a lot of hubbub going on
about what’s happening at the core-mantle boundary. That’s a
very bizarre place. We’d like to know if there’s material
transfer across that boundary. Is the metal of the core getting into
the mantle, or is the rock of the mantle getting into the core?
There’s a massive change in density across that boundary. It’s
greater than that between the bottom of the ocean floor and the
water above it. And through geophysical measurements and
observations—mostly seismic wave measurements—we know that
boundary is only a couple of kilometers thick. It may be even less
than a kilometer. It appears to be very sharp on the bottom and
diffuse on top. The reverse of what happens on the ocean floor. So
one of the things that’s happened over the last couple of years is
that some people have been saying that the material going from the
core to the mantle is coming up in islands like Hawaii, just the
tiniest amount of the Earth’s core coming out in Hawaiian lavas.
And everyone has an opinion on that. I’m refining some of my
models and weighing in on that. Other people are looking at their
data and weighing in, and opinions differ, which is always the case
in science.
What was the greatest challenge in writing "The composition of
the Earth"?
I think it was to fix on an absolute value. This is going to be
little complicated. There are something like 40 elements that are
interdependent. So you fix one and you have the others fixed.
Imagine that the whole solar system started out as a cloud between
stars. Some supernova in the nearby neighborhood sends a shockwave
through the system, and that gives this cloud a bit of spin
momentum. So that imparts a center of mass, which becomes the sun
and raises the temperature in this system. With time, you build
planets. The first elements that start to condense out of that cloud
are high-temperature elements, also called refractory elements, and
that’s what these 40 elements are. The refractory elements are all
in equal relative proportion in a wide variety of primitive
meteorites. This is half of the periodic table. You fix one of these
40, you fix them all. So probably the hardest job was to actually go
through my data and find out what was the best one or the best five
to help me narrow down that fix. When I finally fixed it, it then
said what all the other numbers had to be. Example elements would be
calcium, aluminum, titanium, the rare earths, strontium, zirconium;
it goes on and on. In the primitive mantle they’re all 1.16 times
what you see in the most primitive meteorites relative to the
magnesium content. That number, 1.16, I wanted it to be a number
with very little uncertainty and with highly understandable
traceable methodology. Once I had that number, everything else
started to fall out from that. That was pivotal but that meant
commitment also. I did that many times over, reinvestigated it, and
it kept coming back to the same number. It kept hovering around
1.16, and that’s where it ended up.
Dr. McDonough informed
in-cites of the death of his friend and co-author Shen-Su Sun, on
February 25, 2005. "We have lost a great scientist and a
wonderful person whose sense of unselfish giving was unmatched,"
said McDonough of Sun.
William F. McDonough, Ph.D.
University of Maryland
College Park, MD, USA
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