Another week has ended. Another weekend begins. I saw this a little while ago and flagged it for myself to share on a just for fun Friday. And since I posted a few things this week I figured I would share this as well.
It is remarkable it took the similarity of the two coastlines to “discover” continental drift, but that is, very broadly, the truth of the matter.
Enjoy your weekend.
Credit for the piece goes to Randall Munroe.
Last month the Philadelphia Inquirer published an article examining the geographic distribution of Teslas and Cybertrucks and whether or not your car is liberal or conservative. The interactive graphics focused more on a sortable table, which allowed you to find your vehicle type.
The sortable list offers users option by brand and body type—not model. But whilst the newspaper claims to include 11 million vehicles in Pennsylvania, its classifications are lacking. For example, I drive a Ford Focus hatchback, but the list includes only 1400 hatchbacks, of the Toyota four-door variety in the entire Commonwealth.
More interesting to me was the geographic map of Tesla electric vehicles and Cybertrucks. The screenshot below is of the Tesla.
The choropleth maps use shades of green to indicate the share of vehicles in the particular zip code. Teslas represent relatively small shares of the market across Pennsylvania, but their limited presence is concentrated in the more affluent communities surrounding the big cities of Philadelphia and Pittsburgh. Cybertrucks are even less popular in Pennsylvania and barely register statewide.
Overall the graphics work, but I wish the data was a bit more robust. I would be curious how political my vehicle choice is. Of course choice is relative here. I purchased my car back in 2010 and I cared little for the brand. I just wanted something small to drive and park in Chicago and that could lug cargo. Of course 2010 was a less polarised time when the outrages of the day centred upon tan suits.
Credit for the piece goes to Lizzie Mulvey and Dylan Purcell.
Conflict—a brutal civil war—continues unabated in Sudan. In the country’s west opposition forces have laid siege to the city of el-Fasher for over a year now. And a recent BBC News article provided readers recent satellite imagery showing the devastation within the city and, most interestingly, one of the most ancient of mankind’s tactics in siege warfare: encircling the town or fortress with a wall. No one gets in. And no one gets out.
The screenshot from the article above is of a village to the west of the city and it reveals the brutality of siege warfare. Paramilitary opposition forces constructed their siege wall through the middle of the village, which the image reveals barely exists any longer.
I love images like this because sometimes complex graphics are not necessary to tell the story. The scale of obliteration is obvious to the audience. And it only requires a moment’s extra thought to realise each building was someone’s home or business.
This second screenshot is of an annotated map from the Humanitarian Research Lab at Yale University. Coloured lines indicate the siege wall’s size and progress. Unlike the obvious nature of the first set of side-by-side images, here the story requires annotations.
Colours indicate when the paramilitaries built the segment of wall. The village in the satellite photos can be seen on the left of the map with the green dashes appropriately cutting through the text label. There are only four colours relevant to the wall and I perhaps would have explored using a light-to-dark gradient instead of four distinct hues as a gradient implies a progression. The wall began in the north, then went to the west and worked clockwise, i.e. cyan to green to yellow to red. A gradient probably would have been clearer in that regard.
I think the drawback with that particular graphic is the legend is not in the graphic itself. Instead, the BBC had to explain it via the article’s text. The lack of an integrated graphic hurts in cases just like this when, say, a screenshot of the image is used without the accompanying text. Here is an example of how that could work.
Overall I like the graphics. And by like I mean the design of the graphics. I do not like the ongoing civil war. The paramilitary forces have made clear their intention to starve and bombard the city’s population to death. Alas, I doubt we will see anything change anytime soon.
Credit for the original pieces go to the Humanitarian Research Lab at Yale University and the BBC graphics team.
Credit for the edit is mine.
Last weekend, Major League Baseball Commissioner Rob Manfred created a mild furore when he discussed the sport’s looming expansion and how it would likely prompt a geographic realignment. I am old enough I still recall baseball’s two leagues—the American and National—organised into only two divisions—East and West. In the early 1990s, baseball expanded and created a new Central Division. Afterwards, teams changed divisions, teams changed leagues, the sport expanded again to add new teams. As of today, MLB comprises 30 teams, 15 each in each league divided five teams per division. The only potential downside is whereas for decades the leagues only played amongst themselves, since the late 1990s, the odd numbers of teams have required “interleague” play on a daily basis.
But baseball wants to expand to 32 teams in a process yet to begin. Expansion requires the interested parties to pay an enormous fee, making other owners significant amounts of sweet, sweet cash. The question on everyone’s mind is where will the two expansion teams locate? And once they start play, how will the sport organise its teams?
The Athletic posted an article about this very issue earlier this week and it included two nice and simple maps showing one potential geographic realignment. This image is of author Stephen J. Nesbitt’s idea for the American League. (I care about the American League because as my regular readers by now know, I am an unapologetic fan of the Red Sox.)
As maps go, I think it works well. Personally, I prefer lighter backgrounds to darker, but a grey map is a grey map all the same. I think the colours work well and visually group the proposed divisions clearly. The white box makes clear the new division. (The map for the National League also works well.)
Beyond the information design or data visualisation level, I generally like the realignment proposed here as it offers a decent compromise between those wanting a basketball-style apportionment into two conferences, one eastern and one western, and those traditionalists like myself who still value the distinction between the American and National Leagues.
The biggest issue is where will the teams be? The author assumes one team on the East Coast or at least east of the Mississippi, and one West Coast or west of the Rocky Mountains. But baseball returning to Canada and Montreal would be welcome as would an expansion team in Texas, say Austin or San Antonio. Then of course you have the issue of Oakland. And the longshots have always been expansion into Mexico.
Personally, I have long been in favour of an even larger expansion to 36 teams. For sake of argument: Portland, Salt Lake City, San Antonio, Charlotte, Nashville, and Montreal have always made sense to me. Of course six new teams in one quick go would be impractical and thus it would be a long-term goal. But three 6-team divisions would mean 18 teams per league and you could still eliminate or reduce interleague play to special occasion weekends.
Credit for the piece goes to Drew Jordan.
A good friend of mine sent me this graphic earlier this week. The World Wars fascinate me—to be fair, most history does, and yes, that even includes the obligatory guy thinking of the Roman Empire—and I can see on my bookshelf as I type this post up my books on naval warships from World War I and a history of the Great War itself. But the graphic comes from the Onion and satirises the Great War with a few choice bits relevant over 100 years later.
World War I is the what happens when you leave the default settings on and fail to make changes to your account after you set it up. Because someone declared war on someone else, another someone had to declare war on that person, and that person had to be declared war upon by another person, and so on and so forth until millions were dead.
Credit for the piece goes to the Onion’s graphics staff.
Last week two of the largest American freight railroads agreed to a merger with Union Pacific purchasing Norfolk Southern. Railroads have long played an important part in the history of the United States, from the Second Industrial Revolution to settlement and development of the West, through to the time zones in which we live and the laws on monopolies and corporations by which we live. Even in my own family history, my 3×great-grandfather was crushed between two rail cars and instantly killed whilst working for the Reading Railroad.
This merger, however, will create a truly transcontinental railroad spanning from the East Coast to the West Coast. Fortunately the New York Times covered the news and included a graphic to showcase the new network—if approved by the Administration, which…really?…do we have any doubt?—with the Union Pacific in red and Norfolk Southern in orange.
The graphic is great. It need not be overly complex. With other railroads shown in light grey for context, the graphic highlights both the expansiveness and pervasiveness of the two networks. In a normally operating world, we probably would see significant concerns from the government about monopolistic concentrations of freight—we are talking about 40% of freight traffic here being controlled by one company. But this ain’t exactly Kansas. Except, it kinda is. Regardless, I doubt this merger gets held up.
A minor note, I appreciate that this map includes the state-level administrative units for both Mexico and Canada—Cuba too, but that is less important for this article. The only concern would be, I would probably have used a thicker white stroke for the international borders, because how many readers would know on the above map where the United States ends and “not the United States” begins…
Credit for the piece goes to Karl Russell.
Last weekend, the United States’ 4th of July holiday weekend, the remnants of a tropical system inundated a central Texas river valley with months’ worth of rain in just a few short hours. The result? The tragic loss of over 100 lives (and authorities are still searching for missing people).
Debate rages about why the casualties ranked so high—the gutting of the National Weather Service by the administration shines brightly—but the natural causes of the disaster are easier to identify. And the BBC did a great job covering those in a lengthy article with a number of helpful graphics.
I will start with this precipitation map, created with National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) data.
I remain less than fully enthusiastic about continual gradients for map colouration schemes, however the extreme volume of rainfall during the weather event makes the location of the flooding obvious to all. Nonetheless the designers annotated the map, pointing out river, the camp at the centre of the tragedy and the county wherein most of the deaths occurred.
In short, more than 12 inches of rain fell in less than 24 hours. The article also uses a time lapse video to show the river’s flash flooding when it rose a number of feet in less than half an hour.
The article uses the captivating footage of the flash flooding as the lead graphic component. And I get it. The footage is shocking. And you want to get those sweet, sweet engagement clicks and views. But from the standpoint of the overall narrative structure of the piece, I wonder if starting with the result works best.
Rather, the extreme rainfall and geographic features of the river valley contributed at the most fundamental level and showcasing that information and data, such as in the above map, would be a better place to start. The endpoint or culmination of the contributing factors is the flash flooding and the annotated photo of flood water heights inside the cabins of the camp.
Overall I enjoyed the piece tremendously and walked away better informed. I had visited an area 80 miles east of the floods several years ago for a wedding. Coincidentally on the 4th I remarked to a different friend from the area now living in Philadelphia about the flatness and barrenness of the landscape between Austin and San Antonio. I had no idea that just to the west rivers cut through the elevated terrain that would together cause over a hundred deaths a few hours later.
Credit for the piece goes to the BBC, but the article listed a healthy number of contributors whom I shall paste here: Writing by Gary O’Donoghue in Kerr County, Texas, Matt Taylor of BBC Weather and Malu Cursino. Edited by Tom Geoghegan. Images: Reuters/Evan Garcia, Brandon Bell, Dustin Safranek/EPA/Shutterstock, Camp Mystic, Jim Vondruska, Ronaldo Schemidt/AFP and Getty.
This week began with Saint Patrick’s Day, a day that here in the States celebrates Ireland and Irish heritage. And I have an abundance of that. As we saw in a post earlier this year about some new genetic ancestry results, Ireland accounts for approximately 2/3 of my ancestry. But as many of my readers know, actual records-based genealogy is one of my big hobbies and so for this Saint Patrick’s Day, I decided to create a few graphics to capture all my current research on my family’s Irish heritage.
In the current political climate wherein we hyperfixate on immigration, I started with my ancestors’ immigration to North America.
My graphic features a timeline marking when certain ancestors arrived, with the massive caveat I do not know when all my Irish ancestors arrived. I separate the ancestors into paternal and maternal lines. My maternal lines are only half Irish, and unfortunately most of them offer little in terms of early records or origins and so the bulk of the graphic lands on my paternal lines.
I did sort out that two–four lines began in Canada and included them with orange dots. (The one couple married in Ireland shortly before setting sail for Canada. The other two lines married in Canada.) I also added a grey bar representing the length of the Great Famine. I suspect a number of my ancestors arrived during the famine based on the fact they begin to appear in the records around 1850, but sadly none of those records state when they arrived specifically instead they just appear in the United States.
I also used filled vs. open dots to indicate whether or not I had primary source documents for arrivals. I.e., a passenger manifest, naturalisation papers, &c. that specifically details immigration information weighs more heavily as evidence than, say, a census record wherein a respondent can say he or she arrived in such a year. (Spoiler, census records are not infallible.)
The overall takeaway, most of my Irish immigrants, for whom I have information, arrived in the middle of the 19th century within a decade of the Great Famine.
The second graphic features even more difficult data to find. Whence did my ancestors come?
For those unfamiliar with Irish genealogy, finding the town or parish from which your ancestors hailed can be nigh impossible. To start, you need some kind of American-based record that gives you a clue as to where in Ireland to look—a county or city. From my experience, most records simply state places of birth as “Ireland”—not very helpful.
Then if you can get back to Ireland, the typical resource you might use in the United States, United Kingdom, and other countries is the census. And Ireland did record a census every ten years, beginning in 1821. Unfortunately 1861 and 1871 were destroyed shortly after the data was recorded. Then during World War I, the 1881 and 1891 censuses were pulped due to a paper shortage. Then in 1921, there was no census because of the whole Irish Civil War thing. Finally in 1922, during the Battle of Dublin in the whole Irish Civil War thing, the Public Records Office at the Four Courts, which held government records dating back hundreds of years as well as guns and ammunition, was blown up. And with the ammunition, so too was blown up the census records for 1821, 1831, 1841, and 1851. In short, genealogists only have access to census records for 1901 and 1911. (The 1926 census organised post-Civil War, does not become public until 2027.)
Then you have the whole unavailability of Catholic Church records, which is another long discussion about the conflict between Protestants and Catholics in Ireland. (Just a minor thing in Irish history.)
There are some civil public records available and they begin in the mid-19th century, which in many cases is just a bit too late for genealogical purposes.
Suffice it to say, Irish genealogy can be tricky and in 15 years of researching it myself, I have only been able to find the origins of 10 Irish immigrant ancestors. For context, to the best of my knowledge I have 18 Irish immigrant ancestors. Thus that map is very empty.
The second map of the United States and United Kingdom is more complete because more complete records. It maps the residences of my Irish and Irish-American ancestors. Initially I attempted to link all the towns and cities with arrows to show the migration patterns, alas it quickly became a mess at such a small scale. That remains a project for another day.
My Irish heritage is a thing of which I am proud, and I am glad to say my genealogy hobby has allowed me to explore it much more deeply and richly than a green-dyed pint would allow.
Credit for the pieces is mine.
Because who does not recall the great Sharpie forecast track by the National Hurricane Center (NHC)?
Earlier this summer, in the middle of the hurricane season, the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA’s) NHC released a new, experimental warning cone map. For those unfamiliar, these are the maps that have a white and white-shaded forecast for where the centre of the storm will track. Importantly, it is not a forecast of where the storm will impact. If you have ever been through a hurricane—would not recommend—you know you need not be near the centre to feel the storm’s impact.
I have been waiting for a significant storm to threaten the United States before taking a look at these. (It is also important to note, these new maps apply only to the United States.) But this is the current map for Hurricane Helene as of Wednesday morning.
For those of you who, like me, are familiar with these, you will see the red lines along the coast that indicate hurricane warnings. Blue lines indicate current tropical storm warnings. Not on this map are pink lines for hurricane watches and yellow lines for tropical storm watches. But all these lines only represent watches and warnings along the coast. Little dots indicate the storm’s forecast position at certain times and through letter indicators its strength. The full white areas are the forecast track for the centre of the storm through the first three days. The shaded area is for days 4–5.
Contrast that with the new, experimental version.
The background of the map remains the same. In my perfect world, I would probably drop the grey and blue back a little bit, but that is not the end of the world. Instead, the biggest change is that the tropical storm and hurricane watches and warnings, which have always been declared for full counties inland, are now shown on the map.
You can see the red hurricane warnings are now forecast to move through the eastern Florida panhandle and southern Georgia with tropical storm watches forecast for the inland counties north and east of those. And then the three- and five-day forecasts have blended into a single white cone track. Subtly, the stroke or outline for that has changed from black to solid white. That helps reduce the distracting visuals on the map and emphasise the forecast track and watches and warnings.
Overall, I think is a really strong and important and potentially life-saving improvement to the graphics. Could things be improved more? Absolutely. But sometimes the only way to make improvements is through slow and steady incremental changes. This update does that in spades.
Credit for the piece goes to the NHC graphics team.
I grew up less than 15 miles away from the Limerick Nuclear Generating Station, located on the banks of the Schuylkill River northwest of the city of Philadelphia. Our house sat on the north-facing slope of the Great Valley and the cooling towers of Limerick were a ridge line and river valley away from view. But on a clear day, you can see the puffy, billowy clouds of steam rising over the distant horizon—Limerick is splitting the atom.
We all know—or should by now—burning coal, oil, and gas are not terribly great for the planet. They emit carbon dioxide and other gasses that warm the Earth. But the white columns rising over the Schuylkill are water. Fissile uranium is more dense than coal, oil, or gas. And not just by a wee bit. But by orders of magnitude. Splitting the atom provides mankind with enormous amount of energy.
And we need energy. This summer was hot. And I don’t like it hot. Consequently, my air con ran almost nonstop. And I am not the only one. But whence comes all the electricity to power those units? Yes, we can get electricity from the sun, the wind, and the water. But what about when the clouds block the sun? Or the hot, sticky summer air refuses to stir? Or the parched earth has sucked the water from the reservoir?
The uranium atom can still be split, and at a reliable rate. That makes it great to provide a high amount of electricity that can be augmented by the sun, the wind, and the water when conditions permit.
However, in recent years, the cost of oil and gas declined thanks to fracking, and the business cost to run coal plants lowered as environmental standards disappeared. The economics of running nuclear power plants made them less viable than carbon-spewing options. Electricity providers started shutting nuclear plants down.
Things have changed, though. As we run more air con, we need more electricity. As we run more electric busses and trains, we need more electricity. As we charge more electric cars, we need more electricity. As we run more servers for bitcoin mining or AI farms, we need more electricity.
We need more electricity. A lot more.
And so the economics of electricity is changing. The Wall Street Journal had a great article about the re-opening of nuclear plant in Michigan. It included some really nice photographs of the control room and the turbine room. But, the reason we are talking about it here today because the article includes a few diagrams and illustrations. This one caught my attention.
First, I really enjoy how the United States is reduced to a grey outline. Perhaps a very faint grey could have been used to infill the states, but here I think white works best because of the use of the light and medium greys for active plants.
The active plants—not the focus of the article—are in those greys, whilst the decommissioned and -ing plants are in tints of red. What I struggled with a long time ago when I made an infographic about southeastern Pennsylvania’s electricity generation was how to show the different plants at a single facility.
Ultimately, I listed each plant by name then an icon representing the type of fuel, because not every plant uses all the same type of fuel. Eddystone Generating Station just south of Philadelphia used both natural gas/oil plants and two coal plants, though those were retired in the 2010s.
Here the designer, not needing to label each plant and aided by the fact each plant is nuclear, simply encloses the dots within a container. Palisades, the plant in question, receives a thicker, black stroke to call it out against the rest of the plants.
Credit for the piece goes to, I think Adrienne Tong. She is credited for a different graphic in the article, but not the one I highlighted, so I’ll give her the credit unless and until someone else gets the credit.
