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Science Is Not Your Enemy
An impassioned plea to neglected novelists, embattled professors, and tenure-less
historians
BY STEVEN PINKER
August 6, 2013
The great thinkers of the Age of Reason and the Enlightenment were scientists. Not only did
many of them contribute to mathematics, physics, and physiology, but all of them were avid
theorists in the sciences of human nature. They were cognitive neuroscientists, who tried to
explain thought and emotion in terms of physical mechanisms of the nervous system. They were
evolutionary psychologists, who speculated on life in a state of nature and on animal instincts
that are “infused into our bosoms.” And they were social psychologists, who wrote of the moral
sentiments that draw us together, the selfish passions that inflame us, and the foibles of
shortsightedness that frustrate our best-laid plans.
These thinkers—Descartes, Spinoza, Hobbes, Locke, Hume, Rousseau, Leibniz, Kant, Smith—are
all the more remarkable for having crafted their ideas in the absence of formal theory and
empirical data. The mathematical theories of information, computation, and games had yet to be
invented. The words “neuron,” “hormone,” and “gene” meant nothing to them. When reading
these thinkers, I often long to travel back in time and offer them some bit of twenty-first-century
freshman science that would fill a gap in their arguments or guide them around a stumbling
block. What would these Fausts have given for such knowledge? What could they have done with
it?
We don’t have to fantasize about this scenario, because we are living it. We have the works of the
great thinkers and their heirs, and we have scientific knowledge they could not have dreamed of.
This is an extraordinary time for the understanding of the human condition. Intellectual
problems from antiquity are being illuminated by insights from the sciences of mind, brain,
genes, and evolution. Powerful tools have been developed to explore them, from genetically
engineered neurons that can be controlled with pinpoints of light to the mining of “big data” as a
means of understanding how ideas propagate.
One would think that writers in the humanities would be delighted and energized by the
efflorescence of new ideas from the sciences. But one would be wrong. Though everyone endorses
science when it can cure disease, monitor the environment, or bash political opponents, the
intrusion of science into the territories of the humanities has been deeply resented. Just as reviled
is the application of scientific reasoning to religion; many writers without a trace of a belief in
God maintain that there is something unseemly about scientists weighing in on the biggest
questions. In the major journals of opinion, scientific carpetbaggers are regularly accused of
determinism, reductionism, essentialism, positivism, and worst of all, something called
“scientism.” The past couple years have seen four denunciations of scientism in this magazine
alone, together with attacks in Bookforum, The Claremont Review of Books, The Huffington Post,
The Nation, National Review Online, The New Atlantis, The New York Times , and Standpoint.
The eclectic politics of these publications reflects the bipartisan nature of the resentment. This
passage, from a 2011 review in The Nation of three books by Sam Harris by the historian Jackson
Lears, makes the standard case for the prosecution by the left:
Positivist assumptions provided the epistemological foundations for Social Darwinism and
pop-evolutionary notions of progress, as well as for scientific racism and imperialism. These
tendencies coalesced in eugenics, the doctrine that human well-being could be improved and
eventually perfected through the selective breeding of the "fit" and the sterilization or
elimination of the "unfit." ... Every schoolkid knows about what happened next: the
catastrophic twentieth century. Two world wars, the systematic slaughter of innocents on an
unprecedented scale, the proliferation of unimaginable destructive weapons, brushfire wars on
the periphery of empire—all these events involved, in various degrees, the application of
scientific research to advanced technology.
The case from the right, captured in this 2007 speech from Leon Kass, George W. Bush’s
bioethics adviser, is just as measured: Scientific ideas and discoveries about living nature and
man, perfectly welcome and harmless in themselves, are being enlisted to do battle against
our traditional religious and moral teachings, and even our self-understanding as creatures
with freedom and dignity. A quasi- religious faith has sprung up among us—let me call it
"soul-less scientism"—which believes that our new biology, eliminating all mystery, can give
a complete account of human life, giving purely scientific explanations of human thought,
love, creativity, moral judgment, and even why we believe in God. ... Make no mistake. The
stakes in this contest are high: at issue are the moral and spiritual health of our nation, the
continued vitality of science, and our own self-understanding as human beings and as children
of the West.
These are zealous prosecutors indeed. But their cases are weak. The mindset of science cannot be
blamed for genocide and war and does not threaten the moral and spiritual health of our nation.
It is, rather, indispensable in all areas of human concern, including politics, the arts, and the
search for meaning, purpose, and morality.
The term “scientism” is anything but clear, more of a boo-word than a label for any coherent
doctrine. Sometimes it is equated with lunatic positions, such as that “science is all that matters”
or that “scientists should be entrusted to solve all problems.” Sometimes it is clarified with
adjectives like “simplistic,” “naïve,” and “vulgar.” The definitional vacuum allows me to replicate
gay activists’ flaunting of “queer” and appropriate the pejorative for a position I am prepared to
defend.
Scientism, in this good sense, is not the belief that members of the occupational guild called
“science” are particularly wise or noble. On the contrary, the defining practices of science,
including open debate, peer review, and double-blind methods, are explicitly designed to
circumvent the errors and sins to which scientists, being human, are vulnerable. Scientism does
not mean that all current scientific hypotheses are true; most new ones are not, since the cycle of
conjecture and refutation is the lifeblood of science. It is not an imperialistic drive to occupy the
humanities; the promise of science is to enrich and diversify the intellectual tools of humanistic
scholarship, not to obliterate them. And it is not the dogma that physical stuff is the only thing
that exists. Scientists themselves are immersed in the ethereal medium of information, including
the truths of mathematics, the logic of their theories, and the values that guide their enterprise.
In this conception, science is of a piece with philosophy, reason, and Enlightenment humanism. It
is distinguished by an explicit commitment to two ideals, and it is these that scientism seeks to
export to the rest of intellectual life.
The Linder Gallery, c.1622-1629, Cordover Collection, LLC
The first is that the world is intelligible. The phenomena we experience may be explained by
principles that are more general than the phenomena themselves. These principles may in turn be
explained by more fundamental principles, and so on. In making sense of our world, there should
be few occasions in which we are forced to concede “It just is” or “It’s magic” or “Because I said
so.” The commitment to intelligibility is not a matter of brute faith, but gradually validates itself
as more and more of the world becomes explicable in scientific terms. The processes of life, for
example, used to be attributed to a mysterious élan vital; now we know they are powered by
chemical and physical reactions among complex molecules.
Demonizers of scientism often confuse intelligibility with a sin called reductionism. But to
explain a complex happening in terms of deeper principles is not to discard its richness. No sane
thinker would try to explain World War I in the language of physics, chemistry, and biology as
opposed to the more perspicuous language of the perceptions and goals of leaders in 1914
Europe. At the same time, a curious person can legitimately ask why human minds are apt to have
such perceptions and goals, including the tribalism, overconfidence, and sense of honor that fell
into a deadly combination at that historical moment.
The second ideal is that the acquisition of
knowledge is hard. The world does not go
out of its way to reveal its workings, and
even if it did, our minds are prone to
illusions, fallacies, and superstitions.
Most of the traditional causes of belief—
faith, revelation, dogma, authority,
charisma, conventional wisdom, the invigorating glow of subjective certainty—are generators of
error and should be dismissed as sources of knowledge. To understand the world, we must
cultivate work-arounds for our cognitive limitations, including skepticism, open debate, formal
precision, and empirical tests, often requiring feats of ingenuity. Any movement that calls itself
“scientific” but fails to nurture opportunities for the falsification of its own beliefs (most
obviously when it murders or imprisons the people who disagree with it) is not a scientific
movement.
In which ways, then, does science illuminate human affairs? Let me start with the most
ambitious: the deepest questions about who we are, where we came from, and how we define the
meaning and purpose of our lives. This is the traditional territory of religion, and its defenders
tend to be the most excitable critics of scientism. They are apt to endorse the partition plan
proposed by Stephen Jay Gould in his worst book, Rocks of Ages, according to which the proper
concerns of science and religion belong to “non-overlapping magisteria.” Science gets the
empirical universe; religion gets the questions of moral meaning and value.
Unfortunately, this entente unravels as soon as you begin to examine it. The moral worldview of
any scientifically literate person—one who is not blinkered by fundamentalism—requires a radical
break from religious conceptions of meaning and value.
To begin with, the findings of science entail that the belief systems of all the world’s traditional
religions and cultures—their theories of the origins of life, humans, and societies—are factually
mistaken. We know, but our ancestors did not, that humans belong to a single species of African
primate that developed agriculture, government, and writing late in its history. We know that our
species is a tiny twig of a genealogical tree that embraces all living things and that emerged from
prebiotic chemicals almost four billion years ago. We know that we live on a planet that revolves
around one of a hundred billion stars in our galaxy, which is one of a hundred billion galaxies in a
13.8-billion-year-old universe, possibly one of a vast number of universes. We know that our
intuitions about space, time, matter, and causation are incommensurable with the nature of
reality on scales that are very large and very small. We know that the laws governing the physical
world (including accidents, disease, and other misfortunes) have no goals that pertain to human
well-being. There is no such thing as fate, providence, karma, spells, curses, augury, divine
retribution, or answered prayers—though the discrepancy between the laws of probability and the
workings of cognition may explain why people believe there are. And we know that we did not
always know these things, that the beloved convictions of every time and culture may be
decisively falsified, doubtless including some we hold today.
In other words, the worldview that guides the moral and spiritual values of an educated person
today is the worldview given to us by science. Though the scientific facts do not by themselves
dictate values, they certainly hem in the possibilities. By stripping ecclesiastical authority of its
credibility on factual matters, they cast doubt on its claims to certitude in matters of morality.
The scientific refutation of the theory of vengeful gods and occult forces undermines practices
such as human sacrifice, witch hunts, faith healing, trial by ordeal, and the persecution of
heretics. The facts of science, by exposing the absence of purpose in the laws governing the
universe, force us to take responsibility for the welfare of ourselves, our species, and our planet.
For the same reason, they undercut any moral or political system based on mystical forces,
quests, destinies, dialectics, struggles, or messianic ages. And in combination with a few
unexceptionable convictions— that all of us value our own welfare and that we are social beings
who impinge on each other and can negotiate codes of conduct—the scientific facts militate
toward a defensible morality, namely adhering to principles that maximize the flourishing of
humans and other sentient beings. This humanism, which is inextricable from a scientific
understanding of the world, is becoming the de facto morality of modern democracies,
international organizations, and liberalizing religions, and its unfulfilled promises define the
moral imperatives we face today.
Moreover, science has contributed—directly and enormously—to the fulfillment of these values. If
one were to list the proudest accomplishments of our species (setting aside the removal of
obstacles we set in our own path, such as the abolition of slavery and the defeat of fascism), many
would be gifts bestowed by science.
The most obvious is the exhilarating achievement of scientific knowledge itself. We can say much
about the history of the universe, the forces that make it tick, the stuff we’re made of, the origin
of living things, and the machinery of life, including our own mental life. Better still, this
understanding consists not in a mere listing of facts, but in deep and elegant principles, like the
insight that life depends on a molecule that carries information, directs metabolism, and
replicates itself.
Science has also provided the world with images of sublime beauty: stroboscopically frozen
motion, exotic organisms, distant galaxies and outer planets, fluorescing neural circuitry, and a
luminous planet Earth rising above the moon’s horizon into the blackness of space. Like great
works of art, these are not just pretty pictures but prods to contemplation, which deepen our
understanding of what it means to be human and of our place in nature.
And contrary to the widespread canard that technology has created a dystopia of deprivation and
violence, every global measure of human flourishing is on the rise. The numbers show that after
millennia of near-universal poverty, a steadily growing proportion of humanity is surviving the
first year of life, going to school, voting in democracies, living in peace, communicating on cell
phones, enjoying small luxuries, and surviving to old age. The Green Revolution in agronomy
alone saved a billion people from starvation. And if you want examples of true moral greatness,
go to Wikipedia and look up the entries for “smallpox” and “rinderpest” (cattle plague). The
definitions are in the past tense, indicating that human ingenuity has eradicated two of the
cruelest causes of suffering in the history of our kind.
Though science is beneficially embedded in our material, moral, and intellectual lives, many of
our cultural institutions, including the liberal arts programs of many universities, cultivate a
philistine indifference to science that shades into contempt. Students can graduate from elite
colleges with a trifling exposure to science. They are commonly misinformed that scientists no
longer care about truth but merely chase the fashions of shifting paradigms. A demonization
campaign anachronistically impugns science for crimes that are as old as civilization, including
racism, slavery, conquest, and genocide.
Just as common, and as historically illiterate, is the blaming of science for political movements
with a pseudoscientific patina, particularly Social Darwinism and eugenics. Social Darwinism was
the misnamed laissez-faire philosophy of Herbert Spencer. It was inspired not by Darwin’s theory
of natural selection, but by Spencer’s Victorian-era conception of a mysterious natural force for
progress, which was best left unimpeded. Today the term is often used to smear any application
of evolution to the understanding of human beings. Eugenics was the campaign, popular among
leftists and progressives in the early decades of the twentieth century, for the ultimate form of
social progress, improving the genetic stock of humanity. Today the term is commonly used to
assail behavioral genetics, the study of the genetic contributions to individual differences.
I can testify that this recrimination is not a relic of the 1990s science wars. When Harvard
reformed its general education requirement in 2006 to 2007, the preliminary task force report
introduced the teaching of science without any mention of its place in human knowledge:
“Science and technology directly affect our students in many ways, both positive and negative:
they have led to life-saving medicines, the internet, more efficient energy storage, and digital
entertainment; they also have shepherded nuclear weapons, biological warfare agents, electronic
eavesdropping, and damage to the environment.” This strange equivocation between the
utilitarian and the nefarious was not applied to other disciplines. (Just imagine motivating the
study of classical music by noting that it both generates economic activity and inspired the Nazis.)
And there was no acknowledgment that we might have good reasons to prefer science and knowhow over ignorance and superstition.
At a 2011 conference, another colleague summed up what she thought was the mixed legacy of
science: the eradication of smallpox on the one hand; the Tuskegee syphilis study on the other.
(In that study, another bloody shirt in the standard narrative about the evils of science, public-
health researchers beginning in 1932 tracked the progression of untreated, latent syphilis in a
sample of impoverished African Americans.) The comparison is obtuse. It assumes that the study
was the unavoidable dark side of scientific progress as opposed to a universally deplored breach,
and it compares a one-time failure to prevent harm to a few dozen people with the prevention of
hundreds of millions of deaths per century, in perpetuity.
A major goad for the recent denunciations of scientism has been the application of neuroscience,
evolution, and genetics to human affairs. Certainly many of these applications are glib or wrong,
and they are fair game for criticism: scanning the brains of voters as they look at politicians’ faces,
attributing war to a gene for aggression, explaining religion as an evolutionary adaptation to
bond the group. Yet it’s not unheard of for intellectuals who are innocent of science to advance
ideas that are glib or wrong, and no one is calling for humanities scholars to go back to their
carrels and stay out of discussions of things that matter. It is a mistake to use a few wrongheaded
examples as an excuse to quarantine the sciences of human nature from our attempt to
understand the human condition.
Take our understanding of politics. “What
is government itself,” asked James
Madison, “but the greatest of all
reflections on human nature?” The new
To simplify is not to be
simplistic.
sciences of the mind are reexamining the
connections between politics and human nature, which were avidly discussed in Madison’s time
but submerged during a long interlude in which humans were assumed to be blank slates or
rational actors. Humans, we are increasingly appreciating, are moralistic actors, guided by norms
and taboos about authority, tribe, and purity, and driven by conflicting inclinations toward
revenge and reconciliation. These impulses ordinarily operate beneath our conscious awareness,
but in some circumstances they can be turned around by reason and debate. We are starting to
grasp why these moralistic impulses evolved; how they are implemented in the brain; how they
differ among individuals, cultures, and sub- cultures; and which conditions turn them on and off.
The application of science to politics not only enriches our stock of ideas, but also offers the
means to ascertain which of them are likely to be correct. Political debates have traditionally been
deliberated through case studies, rhetoric, and what software engineers call HiPPO (highest-paid
person’s opinion). Not surprisingly, the controversies have careened without resolution. Do
democracies fight each other? What about trading partners? Do neighboring ethnic groups
inevitably play out ancient hatreds in bloody conflict? Do peacekeeping forces really keep the
peace? Do terrorist organizations get what they want? How about Gandhian nonviolent
movements? Are post-conflict reconciliation rituals effective at preventing the renewal of
conflict?
History nerds can adduce examples that support either answer, but that does not mean the
questions are irresolvable. Political events are buffeted by many forces, so it’s possible that a given
force is potent in general but submerged in a particular instance. With the advent of data science
—the analysis of large, open-access data sets of numbers or text—signals can be extracted from
the noise and debates in history and political science resolved more objectively. As best we can
tell at present, the answers to the questions listed above are (on average, and all things being
equal) no, no, no, yes, no, yes, and yes.
The humanities are the domain in which the intrusion of science has produced the strongest
recoil. Yet it is just that domain that would seem to be most in need of an infusion of new ideas.
By most accounts, the humanities are in trouble. University programs are downsizing, the next
generation of scholars is un- or underemployed, morale is sinking, students are staying away in
droves. No thinking person should be indifferent to our society’s disinvestment from the
humanities, which are indispensable to a civilized democracy.
Diagnoses of the malaise of the humanities rightly point to anti-intellectual trends in our culture
and to the commercialization of our universities. But an honest appraisal would have to
acknowledge that some of the damage is self-inflicted. The humanities have yet to recover from
the disaster of postmodernism, with its defiant obscurantism, dogmatic relativism, and
suffocating political correctness. And they have failed to define a progressive agenda. Several
university presidents and provosts have lamented to me that when a scientist comes into their
office, it’s to announce some exciting new research opportunity and demand the resources to
pursue it. When a humanities scholar drops by, it’s to plead for respect for the way things have
always been done.
Those ways do deserve respect, and there can be no replacement for the varieties of close reading,
thick description, and deep immersion that erudite scholars can apply to individual works. But
must these be the only paths to understanding? A consilience with science offers the humanities
countless possibilities for innovation in understanding. Art, culture, and society are products of
human brains. They originate in our faculties of perception, thought, and emotion, and they
cumulate and spread through the epidemiological dynamics by which one person affects others.
Shouldn’t we be curious to understand these connections? Both sides would win. The humanities
would enjoy more of the explanatory depth of the sciences, to say nothing of the kind of a
progressive agenda that appeals to deans and donors. The sciences could challenge their theories
with the natural experiments and ecologically valid phenomena that have been so richly
characterized by humanists.
In some disciplines, this consilience is a fait accompli. Archeology has grown from a branch of art
history to a high-tech science. Linguistics and the philosophy of mind shade into cognitive
science and neuroscience.
Similar opportunities are there for the exploring. The visual arts could avail themselves of the
explosion of knowledge in vision science, including the perception of color, shape, texture, and
lighting, and the evolutionary aesthetics of faces and landscapes. Music scholars have much to
discuss with the scientists who study the perception of speech and the brain’s analysis of the
auditory world.
As for literary scholarship, where to begin? John Dryden wrote that a work of fiction is “a just and
lively image of human nature, representing its passions and humours, and the changes of fortune
to which it is subject, for the delight and instruction of mankind.” Linguistics can illuminate the
resources of grammar and discourse that allow authors to manipulate a reader’s imaginary
experience. Cognitive psychology can provide insight about readers’ ability to reconcile their own
consciousness with those of the author and characters. Behavioral genetics can update folk
theories of parental influence with discoveries about the effects of genes, peers, and chance,
which have profound implications for the interpretation of biography and memoir—an endeavor
that also has much to learn from the cognitive psychology of memory and the social psychology
of self-presentation. Evolutionary psychologists can distinguish the obsessions that are universal
from those that are exaggerated by a particular culture and can lay out the inherent conflicts and
confluences of interest within families, couples, friendships, and rivalries that are the drivers of
plot.
And as with politics, the advent of data science applied to books, periodicals, correspondence,
and musical scores holds the promise for an expansive new “digital humanities.” The possibilities
for theory and discovery are limited only by the imagination and include the origin and spread of
ideas, networks of intellectual and artistic influence, the persistence of historical memory, the
waxing and waning of themes in literature, and patterns of unofficial censorship and taboo.
Nonetheless, many humanities scholars have reacted to these opportunities like the protagonist
of the grammar-book example of the volitional future tense: “I will drown; no one shall save me.”
Noting that these analyses flatten the richness of individual works, they reach for the usual
adjectives: simplistic, reductionist, naïve, vulgar, and of course, scientistic.
The complaint about simplification is misbegotten. To explain something is to subsume it under
more general principles, which always entails a degree of simplification. Yet to simplify is not to
be simplistic. An appreciation of the particulars of a work can co-exist with explanations at many
other levels, from the personality of an author to the cultural milieu, the faculties of human
nature, and the laws governing social beings. The rejection of a search for general trends and
principles calls to mind Jorge Luis Borges’s fictitious empire in which “the Cartographers Guild
drew a map of the Empire whose size was that of the Empire, coinciding point for point with it.
The following Generations ... saw the vast Map to be Useless and permitted it to decay and fray
under the Sun and winters.”
And the critics should be careful with the adjectives. If anything is naïve and simplistic, it is the
conviction that the legacy silos of academia should be fortified and that we should be forever
content with current ways of making sense of the world. Surely our conceptions of politics,
culture, and morality have much to learn from our best understanding of the physical universe
and of our makeup as a species.
Steven Pinker is a contributing editor at The New Republic, the Johnstone Family Professor of
Psychology at Harvard University, and the author, most recently, of The Better Angels of our
Nature: Why Violence Has Declined.
Rhetorical Précis Frame
1.
(author’s credentials)
(author’s first and last name)
in his/her
,
argues that
(type and title of text)
2. The author supports his/her argument with the following key points:
a.
b.
c.
3.
(author’s last name)
’s purpose is to
(what the author does in the text)
in order to
(what the author wants the audience to do after reading the text)
4. He/she adopts a(n)
tone for
(intended audience)
Rhetorical Précis Frame
1. New York Times education reporter
Max Roosevelt
(author’s credentials)
in his/her
(author’s first and last name)
article, “Student Expectations Seen as Causing Grade Disputes”
,
argues that
(type and title of text)
many of today's college students feel entitled to good grades for meeting minimum requirements, whether they
have mastered the course material or not.
2. The author supports his/her argument with the following key points:
Professor Greenberger’s study which found that the students’ sense of entitlement was possibly caused by the
a. various pressures students face from family, peers, and societal expectations.
Professor Hogge’s observation that students believe their efforts should be factored into their grades without
b. seeming to recognize that it isn't the effort that is evaluated, but the product of that effort.
Professor Brower’s pointing out that if students were more interested in learning, rather than grades, they
c. would find the intrinsic motivation they need for academic success.
3.
Roosevelt
(author’s last name)
’s purpose is to
explain why college students feel entitled to good grades.
(what the author does in the text)
in order to
explain the causes of college students’ sense of entitlement to good grades in order to get readers to
understand that grades should be based on mastery of course material, not given for effort or participation.
(what the author wants the audience to do after reading the text)
4. He/she adopts a(n) informative
tone for those persons interested in higher education issues.
(intended audience)
Summary Writing
ASSIGNMENT OVERVIEW. A summary is a distillation of an original non-fiction work, like an
essay, an article, or a chapter from a book. A well-written summary proves an
understanding of the argument or essential ideas in the original text without being a
mere collection of quotations or an extended paraphrase.
GENERAL GUIDELINES. A well-written summary will use few quotations, but a partial
sentence quotation that encapsulates the essay’s main idea or argument is often
imbedded in the first sentence (see below). A few other quotations may be needed,
but these should be relatively short and embedded in your own sentences. Since a
summary is intended to convey only the essence of an article or essay, do not restate
detailed examples offered in support of particular ideas. Note only the main ideas. The
ideas presented in a summary do not necessarily appear in the same order as they
did in the original article, but are instead presented in their order of importance or as
necessary to explain the chain of the argument or points being made. To ensure the
audience knows that the ideas being summarized are not yours, you should use
occasional references to the original author by last name or gender specific pronoun
as appropriate.
TRANSPARENCY.
A summary should be a clear distillation of an author’s ideas. Do
not critique or praise the author’s ideas. Do not editorialize, interpret, or take
sides; nor should you use the first person singular—I, me, or my.
TITLING A SUMMARY.
The title of a summary assignment is its work cited entry, which is
placed one-line space below your single-spaced name block. For example:
Kristof, Nicholas. “U.S.A., Land of Limitations?” New York Times. August 8, 2015. Web.
http://www.nytimes.com/2015/08/09/opinion/sunday/nicholas-kristof-usa-landof-limitations.html. Accessed October 12, 2015.
BEGINNING A SUMMARY. All summaries begin with a first sentence that contains three
things: the full title of the piece being summarized as well as its author’s full name—
first and last—and his or her key point, idea, or argument. For example:
In his New York Times opinion column, “U.S.A., Land of Limitations?”,
Nicholas Kristof argues that America’s current lack of economic mobility and
its noticeably absent level playing field for economic opportunity, and the fact
that “disadvantage is less about income than environment” are what
presidential aspirants need to acknowledge and confront.
THE LENGTH QUESTION.
An often cited rule of thumb for summary writing is that one
should be ¼ - ½ of the original. This rule is subject to qualification, of course. A
particularly dense article will require more work—length—to summarize than a fairly
simple argument.
A FINAL NOTE.
In addition to being evaluated for standard academic English, a
summary’s grade is also based on evidence of a clear understanding of what the
author is arguing, and the relationships and importance of his or her ideas.
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
Carl Sagan is the David Duncan Professor of Astronomy
and Space Sciences and Director of the Laboratory for
Planetary Studies at Cornell University; Distinguished
Visiting Scientist at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory,
California Institute of Technology; and co-founder and
President of The Planetary Society, the largest spaceinterest group in the world.
For his work, Dr Sagan has been awarded the NASA
Medals for Exceptional Scientific Achievement and
(twice) for Distinguished Public Service, as well as the
NASA Apollo Achievement Award. Asteroid 2709 Sagan
is named after him.
This is the twenty-ninth book Carl Sagan has authored,
co-authored or edited. Some of his other books:
Intelligent Life in the Universe
(with I. S. Shklovskii)
The Dragons of Eden
Broca's Brain
Cosmos
Contact: A Novel
Comet
(with Ann Druyan)
A Path Where No Man Thought:
Nuclear Winter and the End of the Arms Race
(with Richard Turco)
Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors:
A Search for Who We Are
(with Ann Druyan)
Pale Blue Dot:
A Vision of the Human Future in Space
The
Demon-Haunted
World
Science as a Candle
in the Dark
Carl Sagan
HEADLINE
Copyright © 1997 Carl Sagan
The right of Carl Sagan to be identified as the Author of
the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 1996
by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING
First published in this edition in 1997
by HEADLINE BOOK PUBLISHING
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
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To Tonio,
My grandson.
I wish you a world
Free of demons
And full of light.
We wait for light, but behold darkness.
Isaiah 59:9
It is better to light one candle than to curse the darkness.
Adage
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
Preface: My Teachers
The Most Precious Thing
Science and Hope
The Man in the Moon and the Face on Mars
Aliens
Spoofing and Secrecy
Hallucinations
The Demon-Haunted World
On the Distinction between True and False Visions
Therapy
The Dragon in My Garage
The City of Grief
The Fine Art of Baloney Detection
Obsessed with Reality
Antiscience
Newton's Sleep
When Scientists Know Sin
The Marriage of Scepticism and Wonder
The Wind Makes Dust
No Such Thing as a Dumb Question
House on Fire*
The Path to Freedom*
Significance Junkies
Maxwell and The Nerds
1
6
27
43
61
77
93
108
129
143
160
179
189
207
234
253
267
277
290
300
318
333
345
355
24
25
Science and Witchcraft*
Real Patriots Ask Questions*
Acknowledgements
References
Index
* Written with Ann Druyan
377
396
409
412
427
Preface
My Teachers
I
t was a blustery fall day in 1939. In the streets outside the
apartment building, fallen leaves were swirling in little whirlwinds, each with a life of its own. It was good to be inside and
warm and safe, with my mother preparing dinner in the next
room. In our apartment there were no older kids who picked on
you for no reason. Just the week before, I had been in a fight - I
can't remember, after all these years, who it was with; maybe it
was Snoony Agata from the third floor - and, after a wild swing, I
found I had put my fist through the plate glass window of
Schechter's drug store.
Mr Schechter was solicitous: 'It's all right, I'm insured,' he said
as he put some unbelievably painful antiseptic on my wrist. My
mother took me to the doctor whose office was on the ground
floor of our building. With a pair of tweezers, he pulled out a
fragment of glass. Using needle and thread, he sewed two stitches.
'Two stitches!' my father had repeated later that night. He knew
about stitches, because he was a cutter in the garment industry; his
job was to use a very scary power saw to cut out patterns - backs,
say, or sleeves for ladies' coats and suits - from an enormous stack
of cloth. Then the patterns were conveyed to endless rows of
women sitting at sewing machines. He was pleased I had gotten
angry enough to overcome a natural timidity.
Sometimes it was good to fight back. I hadn't planned to do
anything violent. It just happened. One moment Snoony was
1
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
pushing me and the next moment my fist was through Mr
Schechter's window. I had injured my wrist, generated an unexpected medical expense, broken a plate glass window, and no one
was mad at me. As for Snoony, he was more friendly than ever.
I puzzled over what the lesson was. But it was much more
pleasant to work it out up here in the warmth of the apartment,
gazing out through the living-room window into Lower New York
Bay, than to risk some new misadventure on the streets below.
As she often did, my mother had changed her clothes and made
up her face in anticipation of my father's arrival. We talked about
my fight with Snoony. The Sun was almost setting and together we
looked out across the choppy waters.
'There are people fighting out there, killing each other,' she
said, waving vaguely across the Atlantic. I peered intently.
'I know,' I replied. 'I can see them.'
'No, you can't,' she replied, sceptically, almost severely, before
returning to the kitchen. 'They're too far away.'
How could she know whether I could see them or not? I
wondered. Squinting, I had thought I'd made out a thin strip of
land at the horizon on which tiny figures were pushing and shoving
and duelling with swords as they did in my comic books. But maybe
she was right. Maybe it had just been my imagination, a little like
the midnight monsters that still, on occasion, awakened me from a
deep sleep, my pyjamas drenched in sweat, my heart pounding.
How can you tell when someone is only imagining? I gazed out
across the grey waters until night fell and I was called to wash my
hands for dinner. When he came home, my father swooped me up
in his arms. I could feel the cold of the outside world against his
one-day growth of beard.
On a Sunday in that same year, my father had patiently explained
to me about zero as a placeholder in arithmetic, about the
wicked-sounding names of big numbers, and about how there's no
biggest number ('You can always add one,' he pointed out).
Suddenly, I was seized by a childish compulsion to write in
sequence all the integers from 1 to 1,000. We had no pads of
paper, but my father offered up the stack of grey cardboards he
had been saving from when his shirts were sent to the laundry. I
2
My Teachers
started the project eagerly, but was surprised at how slowly it
went. When I had gotten no farther than the low hundreds, my
mother announced that it was time for me to take my bath. I was
disconsolate. I had to get a thousand. A mediator his whole life,
my father intervened: if I would cheerfully submit to the bath, he
would continue the sequence. I was overjoyed. By the time I
emerged, he was approaching 900, and I was able to reach 1,000
only a little past my ordinary bedtime. The magnitude of large
numbers has never ceased to impress me.
Also in 1939 my parents took me to the New York World's Fair.
There, I was offered a vision of a perfect future made possible by
science and high technology. A time capsule was buried, packed
with artefacts of our time for the benefit of those in the far future who, astonishingly, might not know much about the people of
1939. The 'World of Tomorrow' would be sleek, clean, streamlined and, as far as I could tell, without a trace of poor people.
'See sound' one exhibit bewilderingly commanded. And sure
enough, when the tuning fork was struck by the little hammer, a
beautiful sine wave marched across the oscilloscope screen. 'Hear
light' another poster exhorted. And sure enough, when the
flashlight shone on the photocell, I could hear something like the
static on our Motorola radio set when the dial was between
stations. Plainly the world held wonders of a kind I had never
guessed. How could a tone become a picture and light become a
noise?
My parents were not scientists. They knew almost nothing
about science. But in introducing me simultaneously to scepticism
and to wonder, they taught me the two uneasily cohabiting modes
of thought that are central to the scientific method. They were
only one step out of poverty. But when I announced that I wanted
to be an astronomer, I received unqualified support - even if they
(as I) had only the most rudimentary idea of what an astronomer
does. They never suggested that, all things considered, it might be
better to be a doctor or a lawyer.
I wish I could tell you about inspirational teachers in science
from my elementary or junior high or high school days. But as I
think back on it, there were none. There was rote memorization
about the Periodic Table of the Elements, levers and inclined
3
T H E DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
planes, green plant photosynthesis, and the difference between
anthracite and bituminous coal. But there was no soaring sense of
wonder, no hint of an evolutionary perspective, and nothing about
mistaken ideas that everybody had once believed. In high school
laboratory courses, there was an answer we were supposed to get.
We were marked off if we didn't get it. There was no encouragement to pursue our own interests or hunches or conceptual
mistakes. In the backs of textbooks there was material you could
tell was interesting. The school year would always end before we
got to it. You could find wonderful books on astronomy, say, in
the libraries, but not in the classroom. Long division was taught as
a set of rules from a cookbook, with no explanation of how this
particular sequence of short divisions, multiplications and subtractions got you the right answer. In high school, extracting square
roots was offered reverentially, as if it were a method once handed
down from Mt Sinai. It was our job merely to remember what we
had been commanded. Get the right answer, and never mind that
you don't understand what you're doing. I had a very capable
second-year algebra teacher from whom I learned much mathematics; but he was also a bully who enjoyed reducing young
women to tears. My interest in science was maintained through all
those school years by reading books and magazines on science fact
and fiction.
College was the fulfilment of my dreams: I found teachers who
not only understood science, but who were actually able to explain
it. I was lucky enough to attend one of the great institutions of
learning of the time, the University of Chicago. I was a physics
student in a department orbiting around Enrico Fermi; I discovered what true mathematical elegance is from Subrahmanyan
Chandrasekhar; I was given the chance to talk chemistry with
Harold Urey; over summers I was apprenticed in biology to H.J.
Muller at Indiana University; and I learned planetary astronomy
from its only full-time practitioner at the time, G.P. Kuiper.
It was from Kuiper that I first got a feeling for what is called a
back-of-the-envelope calculation: a possible explanation to a
problem occurs to you, you pull out an old envelope, appeal to
your knowledge of fundamental physics, scribble a few approximate equations on the envelope, substitute in likely numerical
4
My Teachers
values, and see if your answer comes anywhere near explaining
your problem. If not, you look for a different explanation. It cut
through nonsense like a knife through butter.
At the University of Chicago I also was lucky enough to go
through a general education programme devised by Robert M.
Hutchins, where science was presented as an integral part of the
gorgeous tapestry of human knowledge. It was considered
unthinkable for an aspiring physicist not to know Plato, Aristotle,
Bach, Shakespeare, Gibbon, Malinowski and Freud - among
many others. In an introductory science class, Ptolemy's view that
the Sun revolved around the Earth was presented so compellingly
that some students found themselves re-evaluating their commitment to Copernicus. The status of the teachers in the Hutchins
curriculum had almost nothing to do with their research; perversely - unlike the American university standard of today teachers were valued for their teaching, their ability to inform and
inspire the next generation.
In this heady atmosphere, I was able to fill in some of the many
gaps in my education. Much that had been deeply mysterious, and
not just in science, became clearer. I also witnessed at first hand
the joy felt by those whose privilege it is to uncover a little about
how the Universe works.
I've always been grateful to my mentors of the 1950s, and tried
to make sure that each of them knew my appreciation. But as I
look back, it seems clear to me that I learned the most essential
things not from my school teachers, nor even from my university
professors, but from my parents, who knew nothing at all about
science, in that single far-off year of 1939.
5
1
The Most Precious Thing
All our science, measured against reality, is primitive and
childlike - and yet it is the most precious thing we have.
Albert Einstein (1879-1955)
A
s I got off the plane, he was waiting for me, holding up a
scrap of cardboard with my name scribbled on it. I was on
my way to a conference of scientists and TV broadcasters devoted
to the seemingly hopeless prospect of improving the presentation
of science on commercial television. The organizers had kindly
sent a driver.
'Do you mind if I ask you a question?' he said as we waited for
my bag.
No, I didn't mind.
'Isn't it confusing to have the same name as that scientist guy?'
It took me a moment to understand. Was he pulling my leg?
Finally, it dawned on me.
'I am that scientist guy,' I answered.
He paused and then smiled. 'Sorry. That's my problem. I
thought it was yours too.'
He put out his hand. 'My name is William F. Buckley.' (Well,
he wasn't exactly William F. Buckley, but he did bear the name of
a contentious and well-known TV interviewer, for which he
doubtless took a lot of good-natured ribbing.)
As we settled into the car for the long drive, the windshield
6
The Most Precious Thing
wipers rhythmically thwacking, he told me he was glad I was 'that
scientist guy' - he had so many questions to ask about science.
Would I mind?
No, I didn't mind.
And so we got to talking. But not, as it turned out, about
science. He wanted to talk about frozen extraterrestrials languishing in an Air Force base near San Antonio, 'channelling' (a way to
hear what's on the minds of dead people - not much, it turns out),
crystals, the prophecies of Nostradamus, astrology, the shroud of
Turin . . . He introduced each portentous subject with buoyant
enthusiasm. Each time I had to disappoint him:
'The evidence is crummy,' I kept saying. 'There's a much
simpler explanation.'
He was, in a way, widely read. He knew the various speculative
nuances on, let's say, the 'sunken continents' of Atlantis and
Lemuria. He had at his fingertips what underwater expeditions
were supposedly just setting out to find the tumbled columns and
broken minarets of a once-great civilization whose remains were
now visited only by deep sea luminescent fish and giant kraken.
Except . . . while the ocean keeps many secrets, I knew that there
isn't a trace of oceanographic or geophysical support for Atlantis
and Lemuria. As far as science can tell, they never existed. By
now a little reluctantly, I told him so.
As we drove through the rain, I could see him getting glummer
and glummer. I was dismissing not just some errant doctrine, but a
precious facet of his inner life.
And yet there's so much in real science that's equally exciting,
more mysterious, a greater intellectual challenge - as well as being
a lot closer to the truth. Did he know about the molecular building
blocks of life sitting out there in the cold, tenuous gas between the
stars? Had he heard of the footprints of our ancestors found in
4-million-year-old volcanic ash? What about the raising of the
Himalayas when India went crashing into Asia? Or how viruses,
built like hypodermic syringes, slip their DNA past the host
organism's defences and subvert the reproductive machinery of
cells; or the radio search for extraterrestrial intelligence; or the
newly discovered ancient civilization of Ebla that advertised the
virtues of Ebla beer? No, he hadn't heard. Nor did he know, even
7
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
vaguely, about quantum indeterminacy, and he recognized DNA
only as three frequently linked capital letters.
Mr 'Buckley' - well-spoken, intelligent, curious - had heard
virtually nothing of modern science. He had a natural appetite for
the wonders of the Universe. He wanted to know about science.
It's just that all the science had gotten filtered out before it
reached him. Our cultural motifs, our educational system, our
communications media had failed this man. What society permitted to trickle through was mainly pretence and confusion. It had
never taught him how to distinguish real science from the cheap
imitation. He knew nothing about how science works.
There are hundreds of books about Atlantis - the mythical
continent that is said to have existed something like 10,000 years
ago in the Atlantic Ocean. (Or somewhere. A recent book locates
it in Antarctica.) The story goes back to Plato, who reported it as
hearsay coming down to him from remote ages. Recent books
authoritatively describe the high level of Atlantean technology,
morals and spirituality, and the great tragedy of an entire populated continent sinking beneath the waves. There is a 'New Age'
Atlantis, 'the legendary civilization of advanced sciences,' chiefly
devoted to the 'science' of crystals. In a trilogy called Crystal
Enlightenment by Katrina Raphaell - the books mainly responsible for the crystal craze in America - Atlantean crystals read
minds, transmit thoughts, are the repositories of ancient history
and the model and source of the pyramids of Egypt. Nothing
approximating evidence is offered to support these assertions. (A
resurgence of crystal mania may follow the recent finding by the
real science of seismology that the inner core of the Earth may be
composed of a single, huge, nearly perfect crystal - of iron.)
A few books - Dorothy Vitaliano's Legends of the Earth, for
example - sympathetically interpret the original Atlantis legends
in terms of a small island in the Mediterranean that was destroyed
by a volcanic eruption, or an ancient city that slid into the Gulf of
Corinth after an earthquake. This, for all we know, may be the
source of the legend, but it is a far cry from the destruction of a
continent on which had sprung forth a preternaturally advanced
technical and mystical civilization.
What we almost never find - in public libraries or newsstand
8
The Most Precious Thing
magazines or prime-time television programmes - is the evidence
from sea floor spreading and plate tectonics, and from mapping
the ocean floor which shows quite unmistakably that there could
have been no continent between Europe and the Americas on
anything like the timescale proposed.
Spurious accounts that snare, the gullible are readily available.
Sceptical treatments are much harder to find. Scepticism does not
sell well. A bright and curious person who relies entirely on
popular culture to be informed about something like Atlantis is
hundreds or thousands of times more likely to come upon a fable
treated uncritically than a sober and balanced assessment.
Maybe Mr Buckley should know to be more sceptical about
what's dished out to him by popular culture. But apart from that,
it's hard to see how it's his fault. He simply accepted what the
most widely available and accessible sources of information
claimed was true. For his naivete, he was systematically misled
and bamboozled.
Science arouses a soaring sense of wonder. But so does pseudoscience. Sparse and poor popularizations of science abandon
ecological niches that pseudoscience promptly fills. If it were
widely understood that claims to knowledge require adequate
evidence before they can be accepted, there would be no room for
pseudoscience. But a kind of Gresham's Law prevails in popular
culture by which bad science drives out good.
All over the world there are enormous numbers of smart, even
gifted, people who harbour a passion for science. But that passion
is unrequited. Surveys suggest that some 95 per cent of Americans
are 'scientifically illiterate'. That's just the same fraction as those
African Americans, almost all of them slaves, who were illiterate
just before the Civil War - when severe penalties were in force for
anyone who taught a slave to read. Of course there's a degree of
arbitrariness about any determination of illiteracy, whether it
applies to language or to science. But anything like 95 per cent
illiteracy is extremely serious.
Every generation worries that educational standards are decaying. One of the oldest short essays in human history, dating from
Sumer some 4,000 years ago, laments that the young are disastrously more ignorant than the generation immediately preceding.
9
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
Twenty-four hundred years ago, the ageing and grumpy Plato, in
Book VII of the Laws, gave his definition of scientific illiteracy:
Who is unable to count one, two, three, or to distinguish odd
from even numbers, or is unable to count at all, or reckon
night and day, and who is totally unacquainted with the
revolution of the Sun and Moon, and the other stars . . . All
freemen, I conceive, should learn as much of these branches
of knowledge as every child in Egypt is taught when he learns
the alphabet. In that country arithmetical games have been
invented for the use of mere children, which they learn as
pleasure and amusement . . . I . . . have late in life heard
with amazement of our ignorance in these matters; to me we
appear to be more like pigs than men, and I am quite
ashamed, not only of myself, but of all Greeks.
I don't know to what extent ignorance of science and mathematics
contributed to the decline of ancient Athens, but I know that the
consequences of scientific illiteracy are far more dangerous in our
time than in any that has come before. It's perilous and foolhardy
for the average citizen to remain ignorant about global warming,
say, or ozone depletion, air pollution, toxic and radioactive
wastes, acid rain, topsoil erosion, tropical deforestation, exponential population growth. Jobs and wages depend on science and
technology. If our nation can't manufacture, at high quality and
low price, products people want to buy, then industries will
continue to drift away and transfer a little more prosperity to
other parts of the world. Consider the social ramifications of
fission and fusion power, supercomputers, data 'highways', abortion, radon, massive reductions in strategic weapons, addiction,
government eavesdropping on the lives of its citizens, highresolution TV, airline and airport safety, foetal tissue transplants,
health costs, food additives, drugs to ameliorate mania or depression or schizophrenia, animal rights, superconductivity, morningafter pills, alleged hereditary antisocial predispositions, space
stations, going to Mars, finding cures for AIDS and cancer.
How can we affect national policy - or even make intelligent
decisions in our own lives - if we don't grasp the underlying
10
The Most Precious Thing
issues? As I write, Congress is dissolving its own Office of
Technology Assessment - the only organization specifically tasked
to provide advice to the House and Senate on science and
technology. Its competence and integrity over the years have been
exemplary. Of the 535 members of the US Congress, rarely in the
twentieth century have as many as one per cent had any significant
background in science. The last scientifically literate President
may have been Thomas Jefferson.*
So how do Americans decide these matters? How do they
instruct their representatives? Who in fact makes these decisions,
and on what basis?
Hippocrates of Cos is the father of medicine. He is still remembered
2,500 years later for the Hippocratic Oath (a modified form of which
is still here and there taken by medical students upon their graduation). But he is chiefly celebrated because of his efforts to bring
medicine out of the pall of superstition and into the light of science.
In a typical passage Hippocrates wrote: 'Men think epilepsy divine,
merely because they do not understand it. But if they called
everything divine which they do not understand, why, there would
be no end of divine things.' Instead of acknowledging that in many
areas we are ignorant, we have tended to say things like the Universe
is permeated with the ineffable. A God of the Gaps is assigned
responsibility for what we do not yet understand. As knowledge of
medicine improved since the fourth century BC, there was more and
more that we understood and less and less that had to be attributed
to divine intervention - either in the causes or in the treatment of
disease. Deaths in childbirth and infant mortality have decreased,
lifetimes have lengthened, and medicine has improved the quality of
life for billions of us all over the planet.
In the diagnosis of disease, Hippocrates introduced elements
of the scientific method. He urged careful and meticulous
* Although claims can be made for Theodore Roosevelt, Herbert Hoover and
Jimmy Carter. Britain had such a Prime Minister in Margaret Thatcher. Her
early studies in chemistry, in part under the tutelage of Nobel laureate Dorothy
Hodgkin, were key to the UK's strong and successful advocacy that ozonedepleting CFCs be banned worldwide.
11
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
observation: 'Leave nothing to chance. Overlook nothing.
Combine contradictory observations. Allow yourself enough
time.' Before the invention of the thermometer, he charted the
temperature curves of many diseases. He recommended that
physicians be able to tell, from present symptoms alone, the
probable past and future course of each illness. He stressed
honesty. He was willing to admit the limitations of the physician's
knowledge. He betrayed no embarrassment in confiding to posterity that more than half his patients were killed by the diseases he
was treating. His options of course were limited; the drugs
available to him were chiefly laxatives, emetics and narcotics.
Surgery was performed, and cauterization. Considerable further
advances were made in classical times through to the fall of Rome.
While medicine in the Islamic world flourished, what followed
in Europe was truly a dark age. Much knowledge of anatomy and
surgery was lost. Reliance on prayer and miraculous healing
abounded. Secular physicians became extinct. Chants, potions,
horoscopes and amulets were widely used. Dissections of cadavers
were restricted or outlawed, so those who practised medicine were
prevented from acquiring first-hand knowledge of the human
body. Medical research came to a standstill.
It was very like what the historian Edward Gibbon described for
the entire Eastern Empire, whose capital was Constantinople:
In the revolution of ten centuries, not a single discovery was
made to exalt the dignity or promote the happiness of mankind.
Not a single idea had been added to the speculative systems of
antiquity, and a succession of patient disciples became in their
turn the dogmatic teachers of the next servile generation.
Even at its best, pre-modern medical practice did not save many.
Queen Anne was the last Stuart monarch of Great Britain. In the last
seventeen years of the seventeenth century, she was pregnant
eighteen times. Only five children were born alive. Only one of them
survived infancy. He died before reaching adulthood, and before her
coronation in 1702. There seems to be no evidence of some genetic
disorder. She had the best medical care money could buy.
Diseases that once tragically carried off countless infants and
12
The Most Precious Thing
children have been progressively mitigated and cured by science through the discovery of the microbial world, via the insight that
physicians and midwives should wash their hands and sterilize
their instruments, through nutrition, public health and sanitation
measures, antibiotics, drugs, vaccines, the uncovering of the
molecular structure of DNA, molecular biology, and now gene
therapy. In the developed world at least, parents today have an
enormously better chance of seeing their children live to adulthood than did the heir to the throne of one of the most powerful
nations on Earth in the late seventeenth century. Smallpox has been
wiped out worldwide. The area of our planet infested with malariacarrying mosquitoes has dramatically shrunk. The number of years a
child diagnosed with leukaemia can expect to live has been increasing progressively, year by year. Science permits the Earth to feed
about a hundred times more humans, and under conditions much
less grim, than it could a few thousand years ago.
We can pray over the cholera victim, or we can give her 500
milligrams of tetracycline every twelve hours. (There is still a
religion, Christian Science, that denies the germ theory of disease; if
prayer fails, the faithful would rather see their children die than give
them antibiotics.) We can try nearly futile psychoanalytic talk
therapy on the schizophrenic patient, or we can give him 300 to 500
milligrams a day of chlozapine. The scientific treatments are hundreds or thousands of times more effective than the alternatives.
(And even when the alternatives seem to work, we don't actually
know that they played any role: spontaneous remissions, even of
cholera and schizophrenia, can occur without prayer and without
psychoanalysis.) Abandoning science means abandoning much more
than air conditioning, CD players, hair dryers and fast cars.
In hunter-gatherer, pre-agricultural times, the human life
expectancy was about 20 to 30 years. That's also what it was in
Western Europe in Late Roman and in Medieval times. It didn't
rise to 40 years until around the year 1870. It reached 50 in 1915,
60 in 1930, 70 in 1955, and is today approaching 80 (a little more
for women, a little less for men). The rest of the world is retracing
the European increment in longevity. What is the cause of this
stunning, unprecedented, humanitarian transition? The germ
theory of disease, public health measures, medicines and medical
13
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
technology. Longevity is perhaps the best single measure of the
physical quality of life. (If you're dead, there's little you can do to
be happy.) This is a precious offering from science to humanity nothing less than the gift of life.
But micro-organisms mutate. New diseases spread like wildfire.
There is a constant battle between microbial measures and human
countermeasures. We keep pace in this competition not just by
designing new drugs and treatments, but by penetrating progressively more deeply toward an understanding of the nature of life basic research.
If the world is to escape the direst consequences of global
population growth and 10 or 12 billion people on the planet in the
late twenty-first century, we must invent safe but more efficient
means of growing food - with accompanying seed stocks, irrigation,
fertilizers, pesticides, transportation and refrigeration systems. It will
also take widely available and acceptable contraception, significant
steps toward political equality of women, and improvements in the
standards of living of the poorest people. How can all this be
accomplished without science and technology?
I know that science and technology are not just cornucopias
pouring gifts out into the world. Scientists not only conceived
nuclear weapons; they also took political leaders by the lapels,
arguing that their nation - whichever it happened to be - had to
have one first. Then they manufactured over 60,000 of them.
During the Cold War, scientists in the United States, the Soviet
Union, China and other nations were willing to expose their own
fellow citizens to radiation - in most cases without their knowledge - to prepare for nuclear war. Physicians in Tuskegee,
Alabama, misled a group of veterans into thinking they were
receiving medical treatment for their syphilis, when they were the
untreated controls. The atrocious cruelties of Nazi doctors are
well-known. Our technology has produced thalidomide, CFCs,
Agent Orange, nerve gas, pollution of air and water, species
extinctions, and industries so powerful they can ruin the climate of
the planet. Roughly half the scientists on Earth work at least
part-time for the military. While a few scientists are still perceived
as outsiders, courageously criticizing the ills of society and providing early warnings of potential technological catastrophes, many
14
The Most Precious Thing
are seen as compliant opportunists, or as the willing source of
corporate profits and weapons of mass destruction - never mind
the long-term consequences. The technological perils that science
serves up, its implicit challenge to received wisdom, and its
perceived difficulty, are all reasons for some people to mistrust
and avoid it. There's a reason people are nervous about science
and technology. And so the image of the mad scientist haunts our
world - down to the white-coated loonies of Saturday morning
children's TV and the plethora of Faustian bargains in popular
culture, from the eponymous Dr Faustus himself to Dr Frankenstein, Dr Strangelove, and Jurassic Park.
But we can't simply conclude that science puts too much power
into the hands of morally feeble technologists or corrupt, powercrazed politicians and so decide to get rid of it. Advances in
medicine and agriculture have saved vastly more lives than have
been lost in all the wars in history.* Advances in transportation,
communication and entertainment have transformed and unified
the world. In opinion poll after opinion poll science is rated
among the most admired and trusted occupations, despite the
misgivings. The sword of science is double-edged. Its awesome
power forces on all of us, including politicians, a new responsibility - more attention to the long-term consequences of technology,
a global and transgenerational perspective, an incentive to avoid
easy appeals to nationalism and chauvinism. Mistakes are becoming
too expensive.
Do we care what's true? Does it matter?
. . . where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to be wise
wrote the poet Thomas Gray. But is it? Edmund Way Teale in his
1950 book Circle of the Seasons understood the dilemma better:
* At a large dinner party recently, I asked the assembled guests - ranging in age,
I guess, from thirties to sixties - how many of them would be alive today if not
for antibiotics, cardiac pacemakers, and the rest of the panoply of modern
medicine. Only one hand went up. It was not mine.
15
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
It is morally as bad not to care whether a thing is true or not,
so long as it makes you feel good, as it is not to care how you
got your money as long as you have got it.
It's disheartening to discover government corruption and incompetence, for example; but it is better not to know about it? Whose
interest does ignorance serve? If we humans bear, say, hereditary
propensities toward the hatred of strangers, isn't self-knowledge
the only antidote? If we long to believe that the stars rise and set
for us, that we are the reason there is a Universe, does science do
us a disservice in deflating our conceits?
In The Genealogy of Morals, Friedrich Nietzsche, as so many
before and after, decries the 'unbroken progress in the selfbelittling of man' brought about by the scientific revolution.
Nietzsche mourns the loss of 'man's belief in his dignity, his
uniqueness, his irreplaceability in the scheme of existence'. For
me, it is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to
persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring. Which
attitude is better geared for our long-term survival? Which gives
us more leverage on our future? And if our naive self-confidence
is a little undermined in the process, is that altogether such a loss?
Is there not cause to welcome it as a maturing and characterbuilding experience?
To discover that the Universe is some 8 to 15 billion and not 6 to
12 thousand years old* improves our appreciation of its sweep and
grandeur; to entertain the notion that we are a particularly
complex arrangement of atoms, and not some breath of divinity,
at the very least enhances our respect for atoms; to discover, as
now seems probable, that our planet is one of billions of other
worlds in the Milky Way galaxy and that our galaxy is one of
billions more, majestically expands the arena of what is possible;
* 'No thinking religious person believes this. Old hat,' writes one of the referees
of this book. But many 'scientific creationists' not only believe it, but are
making increasingly aggressive and successful efforts to have it taught in the
schools, museums, zoos, and textbooks. Why? Because adding up the 'begats',
the ages of patriarchs and others in the Bible gives such a figure, and the Bible
is 'inerrant'.
16
The Most Precious Thing
to find that our ancestors were also the ancestors of apes ties us to
the rest of life and makes possible important - if occasionally
rueful - reflections on human nature.
Plainly there is no way back. Like it or not, we are stuck with
science. We had better make the best of it. When we finally come
to terms with it and fully recognize its beauty and its power, we
will find, in spiritual as well as in practical matters, that we have
made a bargain strongly in our favour.
But superstition and pseudoscience keep getting in the way,
distracting all the 'Buckleys' among us, providing easy answers,
dodging sceptical scrutiny, casually pressing our awe buttons and
cheapening the experience, making us routine and comfortable
practitioners as well as victims of credulity. Yes, the world would
be a more interesting place if there were UFOs lurking in the deep
waters off Bermuda and eating ships and planes, or if dead people
could take control of our hands and write us messages. It would be
fascinating if adolescents were able to make telephone handsets
rocket off their cradles just by thinking at them, or if our dreams
could, more often than can be explained by chance and our
knowledge of the world, accurately foretell the future.
These are all instances of pseudoscience. They purport to use
the methods and findings of science, while in fact they are faithless
to its nature - often because they are based on insufficient
evidence or because they ignore clues that point the other way.
They ripple with gullibility. With the uninformed cooperation
(and often the cynical connivance) of newspapers, magazines,
book publishers, radio, television, movie producers and the like,
such ideas are easily and widely available. Far more difficult to
come upon, as I was reminded by my encounter with Mr 'Buckley',
are the alternative, more challenging and even more dazzling
findings of science.
Pseudoscience is easier to contrive than science, because distracting confrontations with reality - where we cannot control the
outcome of the comparison - are more readily avoided. The
standards of argument, what passes for evidence, are much more
relaxed. In part for these same reasons, it is much easier to
present pseudoscience to the general public than science. But this
isn't enough to explain its popularity.
17
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
Naturally people try various belief systems on for size, to see if
they help. And if we're desperate enough, we become all too
willing to abandon what may be perceived as the heavy burden of
scepticism. Pseudoscience speaks to powerful emotional needs
that science often leaves unfulfilled. It caters to fantasies about
personal powers we lack and long for (like those attributed to
comic book superheroes today, and earlier, to the gods). In some
of its manifestations, it offers satisfaction of spiritual hungers,
cures for disease, promises that death is not the end. It reassures
us of our cosmic centrality and importance. It vouchsafes that we
are hooked up with, tied to, the Universe.* Sometimes it's a kind
of halfway house between old religion and new science, mistrusted
by both.
At the heart of some pseudoscience (and some religion also,
New Age and Old) is the idea that wishing makes it so. How
satisfying it would be, as in folklore and children's stories, to fulfil
our heart's desire just by wishing. How seductive this notion is,
especially when compared with the hard work and good luck
usually required to achieve our hopes. The enchanted fish or the
genie from the lamp will grant us three wishes - anything we want
except more wishes. Who has not pondered - just to be on the safe
side, just in case we ever come upon and accidentally rub an old,
squat brass oil lamp - what to ask for?
I remember, from childhood comic strips and books, a tophatted, moustachioed magician who brandished an ebony walking
stick. His name was Zatara. He could make anything happen,
anything at all. How did he do it? Easy. He uttered his commands
backwards. So if he wanted a million dollars, he would say 'srallod
noillim a em evig'. That's all there was to it. It was something like
prayer, but much surer of results.
I spent a lot of time at age eight experimenting in this vein,
* Although it's hard for me to see a more profound cosmic connection than the
astonishing findings of modern nuclear astrophysics: except for hydrogen, all
the atoms that make each of us up - the iron in our blood, the calcium in our
bones, the carbon in our brains - were manufactured in red giant stars
thousands of light years away in space and billions of years ago in time. We are,
as I like to say, starstuff.
18
The Most Precious Thing
commanding stones to levitate: 'esir, enots.' It never worked. I
blamed my pronunciation.
Pseudoscience is embraced, it might be argued, in exact proportion as real science is misunderstood - except that the language
breaks down here. If you've never heard of science (to say nothing
of how it works), you can hardly be aware you're embracing
pseudoscience. You're simply thinking in one of the ways that
humans always have. Religions are often the state-protected
nurseries of pseudoscience, although there's no reason why religions have to play that role. In a way, it's an artefact from times
long gone. In some countries nearly everyone believes in astrology
and precognition, including government leaders. But this is not
simply drummed into them by religion; it is drawn out of the
enveloping culture in which everyone is comfortable with these
practices, and affirming testimonials are everywhere.
Most of the case histories I will relate in this book are
American - because these are the cases I know best, not
because pseudoscience and mysticism are more prominent in
the United States than elsewhere. But the psychic spoonbender
and extraterrestrial channeller Uri Geller hails from Israel. As
tensions rise between Algerian secularists and Muslim fundamentalists, more and more people are discreetly consulting the
country's 10,000 soothsayers and clairvoyants (about half of
whom operate with a licence from the government). High
French officials, including a former President of France,
arranged for millions of dollars to be invested in a scam (the
Elf-Aquitaine scandal) to find new petroleum reserves from
the air. In Germany, there is concern about carcinogenic 'Earth
rays' undetectable by science; they can be sensed only by
experienced dowsers brandishing forked sticks. 'Psychic surgery' flourishes in the Philippines. Ghosts are something of a
national obsession in Britain. Since World War Two, Japan has
spawned enormous numbers of new religions featuring the
supernatural. An estimated 100,000 fortune-tellers flourish in
Japan; the clientele are mainly young women. Aum Shinrikyo,
a sect thought to be involved in the release of the nerve gas
sarin in the Tokyo subway system in March 1995, features
19
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
levitation, faith healing and ESP among its main tenets.
Followers, at a high price, drank the 'miracle pond' water from the bath of Asahara, their leader. In Thailand, diseases
are treated with pills manufactured from pulverized sacred
Scripture. 'Witches' are today being burned in South Africa.
Australian peace-keeping forces in Haiti rescue a woman tied
to a tree; she is accused of flying from rooftop to rooftop, and
sucking the blood of children. Astrology is rife in India,
geomancy widespread in China.
Perhaps the most successful recent global pseudoscience - by
many criteria, already a religion - is the Hindu doctrine of
transcendental meditation (TM). The soporific homilies of its
founder and spiritual leader, the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, can be
seen on television in America. Seated in the yogi position, his
white hair here and there flecked with black, surrounded by
garlands and floral offerings, he has a look. One day while
channel surfing we came upon this visage. 'You know who that
is?' asked our four-year-old son. 'God.' The worldwide TM
organization has an estimated valuation of $3 billion. For a fee
they promise through meditation to be able to walk you through
walls, to make you invisible, to enable you to fly. By thinking in
unison they have, they say, diminished the crime rate in Washington DC and caused the collapse of the Soviet Union, among other
secular miracles. Not one smattering of real evidence has been
offered for any such claims. TM sells folk medicine, runs trading
companies, medical clinics and 'research' universities, and has
unsuccessfully entered politics. In its oddly charismatic leader, its
promise of community, and the offer of magical powers in
exchange for money and fervent belief, it is typical of many
pseudosciences marketed for sacerdotal export.
At each relinquishing of civil controls and scientific education,
another little spurt in pseudoscience occurs. Leon Trotsky described
it for Germany on the eve of the Hitler takeover (but in a description
that might equally have applied to the Soviet Union of 1933):
Not only in peasant homes, but also in city skyscrapers, there
lives alongside the twentieth century the thirteenth. A hundred million people use electricity and still believe in the
20
The Most Precious Thing
magic powers of signs and exorcisms . . . Movie stars go to
mediums. Aviators who pilot miraculous mechanisms created
by man's genius wear amulets on their sweaters. What
inexhaustible reserves they possess of darkness, ignorance
and savagery!
Russia is an instructive case. Under the Tsars, religious superstition was encouraged, but scientific and sceptical thinking - except
by a few tame scientists - was ruthlessly expunged. Under
Communism, both religion and pseudoscience were systematically
suppressed - except for the superstition of the state ideological
religion. It was advertised as scientific, but fell as far short of this
ideal as the most unself-critical mystery cult. Critical thinking except by scientists in hermetically sealed compartments of knowledge - was recognized as dangerous, was not taught in the
schools, and was punished where expressed. As a result, postCommunism, many Russians view science with suspicion. When
the lid was lifted, as was also true of virulent ethnic hatreds, what
had all along been bubbling subsurface was exposed to view. The
region is now awash in UFOs, poltergeists, faith healers, quack
medicines, magic waters and old-time superstition. A stunning
decline in life expectancy, increasing infant mortality, rampant
epidemic disease, subminimal medical standards and ignorance of
preventive medicine all work to raise the threshold at which
scepticism is triggered in an increasingly desperate population. As
I write, the electorally most popular member of the Duma, a
leading supporter of the ultranationalist Vladimir Zhirinovsky, is
one Anatoly Kashpirovsky - a faith healer who remotely cures
diseases ranging from hernias to AIDS by glaring at you out of
your television set. His face starts stopped clocks.
A somewhat analogous situation exists in China. After the
death of Mao Zedong and the gradual emergence of a market
economy, UFOs, channelling and other examples of Western
pseudoscience emerged, along with such ancient Chinese practices
as ancestor worship, astrology and fortune telling - especially that
version that involves throwing yarrow sticks and working through
the hoary tetragrams of the I Ching. The government newspaper
lamented that 'the superstition of feudal ideology is reviving in our
21
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
countryside'. It was (and remains) a rural, not primarily an urban,
affliction.
Individuals with 'special powers' gained enormous followings. They could, they said, project Qi, the 'energy field of the
Universe', out of their bodies to change the molecular structure
of a chemical 2,000 kilometres away, to communicate with
aliens, to cure diseases. Some patients died under the ministrations of one of these 'masters of Qi Gong' who was arrested and
convicted in 1993. Wang Hongcheng, an amateur chemist,
claimed to have synthesized a liquid, small amounts of which,
when added to water, would convert it to gasoline or the
equivalent. For a time he was funded by the army and the secret
police, but when his invention was found to be a scam he was
arrested and imprisoned. Naturally the story spread that his
misfortune resulted not from fraud, but from his unwillingness
to reveal his 'secret formula' to the government. (Similar
stories have circulated in America for decades, usually with the
government role replaced by a major oil or auto company.)
Asian rhinos are being driven to extinction because their horns,
when pulverized, are said to prevent impotence; the market
encompasses all of East Asia.
The government of China and the Chinese Communist Party
were alarmed by certain of these developments. On 5 December
1994, they issued a joint proclamation that read in part:
[P]ublic education in science has been withering in recent
years. At the same time, activities of superstition and ignorance have been growing, and antiscience and pseudoscience
cases have become frequent. Therefore, effective measures
must be applied as soon as possible to strengthen public
education in science. The level of public education in science
and technology is an important sign of the national scientific
accomplishment. It is a matter of overall importance in
economic development, scientific advance, and the progress
of society. We must be attentive and implement such public
education as part of the strategy to modernize our socialist
country and to make our nation powerful and prosperous.
Ignorance is never socialist, nor is poverty.
22
The Most Precious Thing
So pseudoscience in America is part of a global trend. Its causes,
dangers, diagnosis and treatment are likely to be similar everywhere. Here, psychics ply their wares on extended television
commercials, personally endorsed by entertainers. They have
their own channel, the 'Psychic Friends Network'; a million
people a year sign on and use such guidance in their everyday
lives. For the chief executives of major corporations, for financial
analysts, for lawyers and bankers there is a species of astrologer/
soothsayer/psychic ready to advise on any matter. 'If people knew
how many people, especially the very rich and powerful ones,
went to psychics, their jaws would drop through the floor,' says a
psychic from Cleveland, Ohio. Royalty has traditionally been
vulnerable to psychic frauds. In ancient China and Rome astrology was the exclusive property of the emperor; any private use of
this potent art was considered a capital offence. Emerging from a
particularly credulous Southern California culture, Nancy and
Ronald Reagan relied on an astrologer in private and public
matters - unknown to the voting public. Some portion of the
decision-making that influences the future of our civilization is
plainly in the hands of charlatans. If anything, the practice is
comparatively muted in America; its venue is worldwide.
As amusing as some of pseudoscience may seem, as confident as
we may be that we would never be so gullible as to be swept up by
such a doctrine, we know it's happening all around us. Transcendental meditation and Aum Shinrikyo seem to have attracted a
large number of accomplished people, some with advanced
degrees in physics or engineering. These are not doctrines for
nitwits. Something else is going on.
What's more, no one interested in what religions are and how
they begin can ignore them. While vast barriers may seem to
stretch between a local, single-focus contention of pseudoscience
and something like a world religion, the partitions are very thin.
The world presents us with nearly insurmountable problems. A
wide variety of solutions are offered, some of very limited
worldview, some of portentous sweep. In the usual Darwinian
natural selection of doctrines, some thrive for a time, while most
quickly vanish. But a few - sometimes, as history has shown, the
23
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
most scruffy and least prepossessing among them - may have the
power to change profoundly the history of the world.
The continuum stretching from ill-practised science, pseudoscience and superstition (New Age or Old), all the way to
respectable mystery religion, based on revelation, is indistinct. I
try not to use the word 'cult' in this book in its usual meaning of a
religion the speaker dislikes, but try to reach for the headstone of
knowledge - do they really know what they claim to know?
Everyone, it turns out, has relevant expertise.
In certain passages of this book I will be critical of the excesses
of theology, because at the extremes it is difficult to distinguish
pseudoscience from rigid, doctrinaire religion. Nevertheless, I
want to acknowledge at the outset the prodigious diversity and
complexity of religious thought and practice over the millennia;
the growth of liberal religion and ecumenical fellowship during the
last century; and the fact that - as in the Protestant Reformation,
the rise of Reform Judaism, Vatican II, and the so-called higher
criticism of the Bible - religion has fought (with varying degrees of
success) its own excesses. But in parallel to the many scientists
who seem reluctant to debate or even publicly discuss pseudoscience, many proponents of mainstream religions are reluctant to
take on extreme conservatives and fundamentalists. If the trend
continues, eventually the field is theirs; they can win the debate by
default.
One religious leader writes to me of his longing for 'disciplined
integrity' in religion:
We have grown far too sentimental . . . Devotionalism and
cheap psychology on one side, and arrogance and dogmatic
intolerance on the other distort authentic religious life almost
beyond recognition. Sometimes I come close to despair, but
then I live tenaciously and always with hope . . . Honest
religion, more familiar than its critics with the distortions and
absurdities perpetrated in its name, has an active interest in
encouraging a healthy skepticism for its own purposes . . .
There is the possibility for religion and science to forge a
potent partnership against pseudo-science. Strangely, I think
it would soon be engaged also in opposing pseudo-religion.
The Most Precious Thing
Pseudoscience differs from erroneous science. Science thrives on
errors, cutting them away one by one. False conclusions are drawn
all the time, but they are drawn tentatively. Hypotheses are
framed so they are capable of being disproved. A succession of
alternative hypotheses is confronted by experiment and observation. Science gropes and staggers toward improved understanding. Proprietary feelings are of course offended when a scientific
hypothesis is disproved, but such disproofs are recognized as
central to the scientific enterprise.
Pseudoscience is just the opposite. Hypotheses are often framed
precisely so they are invulnerable to any experiment that offers a
prospect of disproof, so even in principle they cannot be invalidated.
Practitioners are defensive and wary. Sceptical scrutiny is opposed.
When the pseudoscientific hypothesis fails to catch fire with scientists, conspiracies to suppress it are deduced.
Motor ability in healthy people is almost perfect. We rarely
stumble and fall, except in young and old age. We can learn tasks
such as riding a bicycle or skating or skipping, jumping rope or
driving a car, and retain that mastery for the rest of our lives.
Even if we've gone a decade without doing it, it comes back to us
effortlessly. The precision and retention of our motor skills may,
however, give us a false sense of confidence in our other talents.
Our perceptions are fallible. We sometimes see what isn't there.
We are prey to optical illusions. Occasionally we hallucinate. We
are error-prone. A most illuminating book called How We Know
What Isn't So: The Fallibility of Human Reason in Everyday Life,
by Thomas Gilovich, shows how people systematically err in
understanding numbers, in rejecting unpleasant evidence, in being
influenced by the opinions of others. We're good in some things, but
not in everything. Wisdom lies in understanding our limitations. 'For
Man is a giddy thing,' teaches William Shakespeare. That's where
the stuffy sceptical rigour of science comes in.
Perhaps the sharpest distinction between science and pseudoscience is that science has a far keener appreciation of human
imperfections and fallibility than does pseudoscience (or 'inerrant'
revelation). If we resolutely refuse to acknowledge where we are
liable to fall into error, then we can confidently expect that error even serious error, profound mistakes - will be our companion
25
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
forever. But if we are capable of a little courageous selfassessment, whatever rueful reflections they may engender, our
chances improve enormously.
If we teach only the findings and products of science - no matter
how useful and even inspiring they may be - without communicating its critical method, how can the average person possibly
distinguish science from pseudoscience? Both then are presented
as unsupported assertion. In Russia and China, it used to be easy.
Authoritative science was what the authorities taught. The distinction between science and pseudoscience was made for you. No
perplexities needed to be muddled through. But when profound
political changes occurred and strictures on free thought were
loosened, a host of confident or charismatic claims - especially
those that told us what we wanted to hear - gained a vast
following. Every notion, however improbable, became authoritative.
It is a supreme challenge for the popularizer of science to make
clear the actual, tortuous history of its great discoveries and the
misapprehensions and occasional stubborn refusal by its practitioners to change course. Many, perhaps most, science textbooks
for budding scientists tread lightly here. It is enormously easier to
present in an appealing way the wisdom distilled from centuries of
patient and collective interrogation of Nature than to detail the
messy distillation apparatus. The method of science, as stodgy and
grumpy as it may seem, is far more important than the findings of
science.
26
2
Science and Hope
Two men came to a hole in the sky. One asked the other to
lift him up . . . But so beautiful was it in heaven that the
man who looked in over the edge forgot everything, forgot
his companion whom he had promised to help up and simply
ran off into all the splendour of heaven.
from an Iglulik Inuit prose poem,
early twentieth century, told by Inugpasugjuk to
Knud Rasmussen, the Greenlandic arctic explorer
I
was a child in a time of hope. I wanted to be a scientist from my
earliest school days. The crystallizing moment came when I first
caught on that the stars are mighty suns, when it first dawned on me
how staggeringly far away they must be to appear as mere points of
light in the sky. I'm not sure I even knew the meaning of the word
'science' then, but I wanted somehow to immerse myself in all that
grandeur. I was gripped by the splendour of the Universe, transfixed
by the prospect of understanding how things really work, of helping
to uncover deep mysteries, of exploring new worlds - maybe even
literally. It has been my good fortune to have had that dream in part
fulfilled. For me, the romance of science remains as appealing and
new as it was on that day, more than half a century ago, when I was
shown the wonders of the 1939 World's Fair.
Popularizing science - trying to make its methods and
findings accessible to non-scientists - then follows naturally and
27
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
immediately. Not explaining science seems to me perverse.
When you're in love, you want to tell the world. This book is a
personal statement, reflecting my lifelong love affair with
science.
But there's another reason: science is more than a body of
knowledge; it is a way of thinking. I have a foreboding of an
America in my children's or grandchildren's time - when the
United States is a service and information economy; when nearly
all the key manufacturing industries have slipped away to other
countries; when awesome technological powers are in the hands of
a very few, and no one representing the public interest can even
grasp the issues; when the people have lost the ability to set their
own agendas or knowledgeably question those in authority; when,
clutching our crystals and nervously consulting our horoscopes,
our critical faculties in decline, unable to distinguish between what
feels good and what's true, we slide, almost without noticing, back
into superstition and darkness. The dumbing down of America is
most evident in the slow decay of substantive content in the
enormously influential media, the 30-second sound bites (now
down to 10 seconds or less), lowest common denominator
programming, credulous presentations on pseudoscience and
superstition, but especially a kind of celebration of ignorance. As
I write, the number one video cassette rental in America is the
movie Dumb and Dumber. Beavis and Butthead remains popular
(and influential) with young TV viewers. The plain lesson is that
study and learning - not just of science, but of anything - are
avoidable, even undesirable.
We've arranged a global civilization in which most crucial
elements - transportation, communications, and all other industries; agriculture, medicine, education, entertainment, protecting
the environment; and even the key democratic institution of
voting - profoundly depend on science and technology. We have
also arranged things so that almost no one understands science
and technology. This is a prescription for disaster. We might get
away with it for a while, but sooner or later this combustible
mixture of ignorance and power is going to blow up in our faces.
A Candle in the Dark is the title of a courageous, largely
Biblically based, book by Thomas Ady, published in London in
28
Science and Hope
1656, attacking the witch-hunts then in progress as a scam 'to
delude the people'. Any illness or storm, anything out of the
ordinary, was popularly attributed to witchcraft. Witches must
exist, Ady quoted the 'witchmongers' as arguing, 'else how should
these things be, or come to pass?' For much of our history, we
were so fearful of the outside world, with its unpredictable
dangers, that we gladly embraced anything that promised to
soften or explain away the terror. Science is an attempt, largely
successful, to understand the world, to get a grip on things, to get
hold of ourselves, to steer a safe course. Microbiology and
meteorology now explain what only a few centuries ago was
considered sufficient cause to burn women to death.
Ady also warned of the danger that 'the Nations [will] perish for
lack of knowledge'. Avoidable human misery is more often caused
not so much by stupidity as by ignorance, particularly our
ignorance about ourselves. I worry that, especially as the millennium edges nearer, pseudoscience and superstition will seem year
by year more tempting, the siren song of unreason more sonorous
and attractive. Where have we heard it before? Whenever our
ethnic or national prejudices are aroused, in times of scarcity,
during challenges to national self-esteem or nerve, when we
agonize about our diminished cosmic place and purpose, or when
fanaticism is bubbling up around us - then, habits of thought
familiar from ages past reach for the controls.
The candle flame gutters. Its little pool of light trembles.
Darkness gathers. The demons begin to stir.
There is much that science doesn't understand, many mysteries
still to be resolved. In a Universe tens of billions of light years
across and some ten or fifteen billion years old, this may be the
case forever. We are constantly stumbling on surprises. Yet some
New Age and religious writers assert that scientists believe that
'what they find is all there is'. Scientists may reject mystic
revelations for which there is no evidence except somebody's
say-so, but they hardly believe their knowledge of Nature to be
complete.
Science is far from a perfect instrument of knowledge. It's just
the best we have. In this respect, as in many others, it's like
29
THE DEMON-HAUNTED WORLD
democracy. Science by itself cannot advocate courses of human
action, but it can certainly illuminate the possible consequences of
alternative courses of action.
The scientific way of thinking is at once imaginative and
disciplined. This is central to its success. Science invites us to let
the facts in, even when they don't conform to our preconceptions.
It counsels us to carry alternative hypotheses in our heads and see
which best fit the facts. It urges on us a delicat...
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