This chapter explores what weather is, investigating the metaphysics and ontology of weather's various manifestations. It begins by raising familiar examples and then trying to bring these together to get at the concept behind weather. It first examines many instances of weather – rain, snow, sleet, hail, thunder, lightning, clouds, sun, wind, storms, cold snaps, heat waves, clear skies, tornadoes, hurricanes, etc. – and discusses the ways in which these examples of weather ultimately fall short of offering a suitable definition. It also covers the ways in which metaphors of weather appear in literature, film, and popular culture, often as indications of tumult or unpredictability. It concludes by bending toward a characterization of weather as a force that functions independently of our own willful activities.

It is a common bromide and accepted truism that if one has nothing to talk about, then one can always talk about the weather. From office parties to high school reunions, from blind dates to cross-Atlantic airline flights, weather is the go-to conversation starter that rarely succeeds in starting the conversation. That makes it particularly strange that a philosopher, a person who generally has too much to say – indeed, who belongs to a class of intellectuals deemed so stuffy and smug as to pride themselves entirely on the alleged depth and meaning of the things they say – would stoop so low as to talk about the weather.

This chapter addresses the tension between human agency and the brute forces of nature by exploring past and present attempts to control the weather. It begins by focusing on the various religious and cultural rituals that people have invoked in attempts to modify the weather. The objective of recounting these cultural practices is to extract from them observations about the underlying assumptions that guide such thinking: For instance, the idea that weather is an intentional force, steered by gods who may be listening; or, alternatively, the idea that nature is a mechanistic system that can, like a complicated thermostat, be adjusted to produce the right temperature. Bearing this in mind, the chapter shifts to a series of intuition pumps, all aimed to suggest that the forces of weather are always outside and alien, heteronomous, and that this heteronomy is encapsulated in the very idea of weather.

This chapter discusses the move to modern meteorology, the science of weather. As meteorology has moved from antiquity through modernity, as we’ve sliced and diced the various aspects of weather into measurable, quantifiable units, we have demystified and changed our thinking about weather altogether. Without question, this conceptual slicing and dicing has increased our understanding of weather phenomena and improved the predictive validity of our forecasts, but it has also in many ways removed us from the most hazardous front lines of weather. The objective of this chapter is more epistemic than practical, to suggest that our relationship with weather has changed as we’ve learned to conceptualize weather differently. The final section of the chapter discusses the ways in which the demystification and quantification of weather has been adapted to characterize weather and its impacts as risk.

India may not yet be leading global science, but it is clear that scientific advancement in India has been pulling and pushing global science in various ways that force attention. Following an overview of Indian’s science structure, this chapter focuses on two critical events. Central to India’s Bt crops saga is the question ‘who is “worthy” of being heard’. One striking character of the Bt crops disputes was that there was no readily-available categorical term to distinguish the pro- and anti-GM camps, for they were both formed by a coalition of government institutions, scientists, civil groups and industries and both evoked a post-colonial rhetoric and the necessity for ‘good science’. Conventional ways of designing and delivering regulations can easily be trapped in a self-referential ‘bureaucratic amplification of credibility’ which has limited ability to speak, let alone respond to diverse risk preferences. Meanwhile central to the global controversies stirred up by Indian experimental stem cell therapies was the question ‘who could do science’. Geeta Shroff captured Western attention perhaps partly because she presented an enigma about who could ‘afford’ to be defiant to conventional scientific communities – communities she didn’t align herself with but whom she impacted nonetheless. For governance to be effective, it has to stay relevant to the subject it aims to govern. This chapter argues that the legitimacy and authority of the global governance of science is becoming ever more dependent on its perceived fairness and inclusivity of diverse groups of practitioners.

This final chapter brings together the themes and cases visited in the book and asks what a de-colonised global governance may look like. The book ends with an invitation to ponder the question ‘what global science will have been?’ This future anterior framing was first proposed by the feminist scholar Tani Barlow. This linguistic construct draws attention to the fact that the anticipated future is embedded in the present (or that a present scenario was embedded in the past). More than at any time in world history, the sciences, especially the life sciences, are shaped by the confluence of private pursuits, national ambition and transnational assemblages. Thus to ask the question ‘what global science will have been?’ is to draw attention to current power struggles and resource imbalances that both stimulate and confine emerging sciences. On the basis of previous chapters, the authors collect their final thoughts on how a decolonised governance of the life sciences can be achieved through reflections on topics of time, place and people.

Chapter 2 sheds light on the subaltern anxieties shared by China and India in order to help untie a Gordian knot of mutual skepticism between the West and the new powers in the East. Seen from the West, China and India often occupy a ‘geography of blame’ where their aggressive scientific agendas provide fertile ground for fraudsters and mavericks. Western observers thus argue that Chinese and Indian scientific communities need to first prove themselves as trusted players in order to win respect. Yet in the eyes of many scientific practitioners in China and India, they are unfairly condemned to a ‘geography of victimisation’ due to a long-standing epistemic injustice. They argue that the West needs to acquire a fair attitude first so as to appreciate the actual scientific contribution from the two countries. This Gordian knot leads us directly to a thorny question: can there be epistemic inequality within the contemporary life sciences? More importantly, how would this inequality shape our actions, and inactions? This chapter unpacks these questions by elucidating how China and India position themselves in the twin process of modernisation and globalisation. This provides an insight on why mutual skepticism persists and how it can be overcome. The empirical overview on the two countries’ development trajectory also contextualises discussions for subsequent chapters.

The book opens by unpacking the 2018 CRISPR baby scandal and its global impacts. Jiankui He’s experiment was a perfect example which exposed the multi-layered ambiguities and contradictions in the realpolitik of the Global South’s drive for influence in frontier research and how power struggles are enmeshed with subaltern anxieties. More importantly, it illuminates why some of the ‘deviance’ manifested by China and India are not country-specific, but underlie shared challenges brought on by a growing diversity of ways of doing research outside of conventional institutions. The chapter demonstrates that bottom-up brokerage, de-territoriality of science and cosmopolitanised civic epistemology are three key trajectories of contemporary science which necessitate us to de-colonise our approach to governance. By the word ‘decolonise’, this book not only refers to the existing epistemic project of decolonial theorisation but also stresses a more fundamental meaning of being able to think outside of scientific ‘colonies’. That is, established social space and interactive order that govern a group of individuals with similar interests or are committed to a certain type of behaviour. The chapter introduces ‘national habitus’ as an analytical tool to substantiate what decolonial theorists have called the capacity to ‘think from and with’ global others.

Various conflicts and contradictions in China’s rise in the life sciences are best understood as a ‘struggle for recognition’ both domestically and globally. It first sets out the basic governing structure and major policy initiatives in China. But such structures should not be seen as static. In fact, through examination of critical events such as China’s joining of the Human Genome Project, hybrid embryo research, the Golden Rice controversy and the COVID pandemic, the chapter demonstrates that even in an authoritarian country, the national habitus of science is constantly challenged and reshaped by bottom-up initiative from scientists, bioethicists and the general public. More importantly, it highlights the de-territorised nature of these initiatives. It debunks the erroneous impression that researchers in China are passive ‘state scientists’. Rather similar to bioethicists, they actively draw on resources transnationally to establish their professional autonomy and authority within and outside of China. In cases such as the International Association of Neurorestoration, the rise of Chinese-led but transnationally organised science has formulated alternative ways of validating knowledge within contemporary Western science. By reviewing critical events Chinese life science experienced in the past 20 years, this chapter effectively examines five sets of key relations (e.g. scientist-state relation, bioethics-state relation, public-science relation, science-science relation and state-science relation) that have shaped its national habitus of science. Key themes of this chapter are further developed in the examination on India.

To comprehend the co-dependence and rivalry between China and India and their global implications, this chapter invites and enables readers to think from and with the two countries by pointing to the often ignored leftist science populism that underlines Global South societies’ management of the dual-task of modernisation and globalisation. This helps to identify the latent effects in the two countries’ selective global outreach and to understand their limits in leading South-South collaboration. The chapter first elucidates the concept of leftist science populism and its political logic. This helps to contextualise the gap between the two countries’ official views and actual practices in R&D exchanges and the latent effect of the two countries’ global expansion, which is discussed in the second section. Finally, the COVID vaccine diplomacy exhibits the two countries’ latest struggle to gain a better position in the global epistemic hierarchy. Whereas China’s vaccine diplomacy can be summarised as ‘contrast, collaborate and calumniate’, India adopted an approach that resembled ‘contest, convert and control’. Yet they both experienced some setbacks due to a deficiency in soft power, which is necessary to bring quality change in how science is applied and evaluated.