SCIENCE IS NOT A FROG: Don’t Dissect It Before You Appreciate It

I have just published a science fiction novel, Traveling in Space, 

and there is a bit of an irony in that. When I was in high school and college I was lucky to achieve even a D in science courses, and to this day any math beyond the four basics — addition, subtraction, multiplication, and division — puts me into a cold sweat. Even the four basics would bother me if some kind strangers had not invented the hand held electronic calculator. 

Granted there is no hard science in my novel and the only math is the word count, but still — a science fiction novel?  I mean, any dummy can write a mystery, just create an amateur sleuth who has the same profession you have (so you can “write what you know”) and throw a dead body in their path. But science fiction?  Shouldn’t the writer at least know how to do an equation? 

Not necessarily, I have to say in self-defense, because although science in my formative years would often make me sick to my stomach (and not just because I was dissecting a frog), 

in my adult years the idea of science and its rational method, and the history of science and its incredible achievements in pushing upward the Homo sapiens species, have been the most delightful and important memes to meander joyfully in my mind. I date this conversion from watching Jacob Bronowski’s 1973 BBC series, The Ascent of Man (broadcast in America over PBS). 

In this 13-part documentary series Dr. Bronowski presented his personal view of the flowering of human intelligence, especially through science, in an engaging and compelling manner that must have made his lectures in classrooms standing room only — as opposed to my science classes which were sleeping room only.

The Ascent of Man excited me about where humankind had come from and, more important, about where it might go. I began to understand the value of science and its method, not just in leading to technological toys we all enjoy and benefit from, but leading to an expansion of what we know and a maturation of our shared self. After Bronowski I discovered Carl Sagan, especially his early books such as The Cosmic Connection, 

and went on from there to enjoy the great science writing we’ve had for the past forty years by such authors as Francis Crick, Paul Churchland, Robert Wright, Jonathan Weiner, Steven Pinker, Brian Green, Natalie Angier, Edward O. Wilson, Antonio Damasio, and, of course, Richard Dawkins, among others. Although the Ascent of Man and these books certainly include specific facts and data, what they really convey is the general personality of science, the overall thrust of what its method of inquiry can achieve, and the sense of wonder that the exploration and growing awareness of the universe around us — and within us — can engender.    

I’ve been thinking about all this recently while listening to conversations about public school education, especially two of the more interesting ones. One is cultural centering on the teaching of evolution and the proposed teaching of what I can only refer to as counter-evolution. 

The other concerns the pragmatic push to turn around our country’s poor performance in high school science and math scores, 

so we will have the required scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and technocrats to keep America competitive in the future. Certain participants in the first conversation seem to propose that we teach little or no science to anyone as it may offend someone; contributors to the second feel we should require more science for everyone in the hope that we can create many someones who will brilliantly make America economically strong again. Neither, it seems to me, is ideal. The first, not teaching science or teaching all theoretical comers — as if science was a democracy — is too absurd and silly a debate to need a comment from me. The second, required, intense, heavy on the details, math and science courses, sounds fine but I believe such requirements turn more students off than on, because, let’s face it, learning just the dry facts and details of science is hard going and many students, indeed most, might spend their time in class experiencing the same cold sweats I did, or, worse, a hateful indifference.

And yet, science education in this country needs improvement, not just so we can leap ahead of Europe and Asia in money making technology, but so we can have an informed population who, like it or not and for some time to come, will face ballot measures asking them to make general decisions on such subjects as abortion, stem cell research, sexual preferences and the rights desired or denied in such preferences, genetic modification, climate and energy issues, and other subjects that are best considered by an electorate with some science literacy. They will also be asked to elect candidates who will be tasked to make many specific decisions requiring more than a basic understanding of science. But how can the electorate judge a candidate’s level of understanding if they have little or none of their own?  

I would like to propose an idea.  This idea comes not only from my own history of cold sweats in science classes, but from the warm glow I felt in classes in the arts. First, we should stop requiring for high school graduation courses in several of the major sciences, rigorously testing students on their understanding of very specific details and minutia of biology, physics, geology, etc. These classes should be elective and only for those students who truly want to study a particular science. I suggest this, though, only if what is required for graduation are two other courses: Science Appreciation and the History of Science.  These should be taken within the first two years of high school, and maybe previewed in middle school.  For what is the use of leaning facts and data and details of individual sciences, and never learning what science, at its essence, truly is. Is it a philosophy, a modern religion, something only geeks care for, a mystic understanding of the fabric of the universe, or just a very boring set of dull and deadly facts?

Science should not be treated like a frog in formaldehyde — it should be understood and appreciated before you pull its guts out. 

I have obviously taken this idea from long established art and music appreciation and history courses.  Just as not everyone can draw or play music, not everyone is going to become a scientist, engineer or mathematician — no matter how badly the country might need them. And just as life is richer if you have an appreciation for art and music, our country and society would be richer if everyone had an appreciation of science — what it is and does and how it has spurred on, in Bronowski’s wonderful phrase, the Ascent of Man.

Science scares people.  A knowledgeable understanding that science is simply a well-honed method of inquiry into, and discovery of, the laws of nature that discourages in its conclusions prejudices, biases, and subjectivity, and thus can better reveal, and revel in, the true awe and wonder of the universe, is the best way to alleviate the fear, far better than the thud-thud-thud of facts to be memorized. Good science appreciation and history courses taught by enthusiastic instructors will open and inform minds among the majority of students, and inspire some of those students — maybe more than one might think — to pursue with vigor careers in science and its related fields.  Those are the students for the specific science classes of details and facts, and, well motivated, they will not sit in those classes suffering cold sweats. 

Considering the Source: Which Contributes Most to the Well-being of Society - Science or Art?

One of the queries in “The Old Curmudgeon’s Book of Questions,” my Internet series of VidBits on Strike.TV 

is, “Why do we keep asking the opinion of the man in the street? If he knew anything he wouldn’t be in the damn street!” 

Recently I came across some information in a public survey that confirmed my Old Curmudgeon’s 

jaundiced view of the man in the street. It was in last year’s Pew Research Center for The People & The Press survey of the public’s attitude towards science, although it was a question that encompassed artists that caught my attention.

The public was asked whether certain professions contribute “a lot” to society’s well-being. Seventy percent of the public thought scientists did, 

which was close to their opinion on members of the military (84%), 

teachers (77%), 

and medical doctors (69%), 

whereas only thirty-one percent of the public thought artists did, 

just above lawyers (23%) 

and business executives (21%).

Although I was pleased to see scientists listed among those that a majority of people think contribute a lot to the well-being of society, I am skeptical whether they truly know what they are talking about. I was dismayed to see that only thirty-one percent of the public believe that artists contribute to the well-being of society despite their lives being made at least slightly better, and at least slightly more tolerable every day, because of the work of artists.

Let’s take scientists first. Although I, had I been asked, would have enthusiastically stated that I believed scientists contribute a lot to the well-being of society, I have to wonder how most of the respondents interpreted the question. Were they thinking of scientists who do pure research, who go off on quests for knowledge simply for the sake of that knowledge, 

whether it is the quantum structure of the universe, the family tree of Homo sapiens, the roots of consciousness, or the origin of life? Or were they thinking of those scientists—and the technologists and engineers who follow them—who do applied science looking to apply their science to something nicely practical and potentially profitable, 

from medical techniques and drugs, to new sources of clean energy, to ever more powerful computers, ever more versatile cell phones, ever more realistically violent video games, not to mention E-readers that actually make you think you are reading an old-fashioned book made of paper?

I would be willing to bet it was the latter. For those are tangible items that not only everyone can see, almost everyone has arguably benefited from. But had the public been asked if the research that physicists are now doing at the CERN Large Hadron Collider, 

or the data to be gather from Curiosity, the next Mars probe, 

or the knowledge that has been pouring in from the Hubble Telescope, 

or the discovery of strange new species at the bottom of the oceans,

 if the public had been asked if any of this contributes to the well-being of society, does anyone really think the polling would have reached seventy percent? This fruit from the tree of knowledge may inspire awe and wonder, but does anyone really think it makes our days better and brighter? Well, I do because I believe that it is inherent in Homo sapiens to quest after knowledge, and if that quest isn’t heeded the well-being of all eventually suffers. I just don’t believe most of the public believes this. I may just be an effete elitist, of course, and I welcome counter-arguments, but I believe that when most people think of well-being they think of tangible benefits, things they can touch and see and assess; not benefits that are more, for lack of a better word, ethereal. Which may be why artists only polled thirty-one percent.

If I may be so bold to define Art as the self-expression of a Homo sapiens, would it then be logical to assume that many people see Art as a self-indulgence, something done essentially for the benefit of the individual artist, and not for society? But to make such an assumption you really have to underline the capital A in Art and further assume that the public considers Art as being only that which has been defined as “High” or “Fine” or “Profound.” In this view Art is that which the artists, and some critics, may consider rarefied, but which is not really liked or understood by the masses. The masses, far from being ashamed by this, often take pride in it, making them reverse effete elitists.

My definition of Art, that it is the self-expression of a Homo sapiens, though, gives it a rather broad scope, taking in everything from the most esoteric modern composer of note-less music to that guy in the bar who can burp out the first two bars of any song you care to name. 

His art may not be profound, and certainly may not contribute to the well-being of society, but it cannot be denied that it is an expression of his self. Even if we back up from the burping troubadour (and who wouldn’t want to?) my definition still assumes that artists are not just people who put cows in formaldehyde, or write music you can’t hum, novels without plots and poetry a stunningly small amount of Americans read, but also those people whose genuine and sincere expressions create works that have been both celebrated and damned as “popular art.” From the best – and we always want to discuss the best—in film, television, music, books, and theater to the finest work of architects designing buildings of stunning grace and beauty or of regional craft fair jewelry designers who make pieces that call out to you and say, “That’s me!” or “That’s my lover!” or “That’s my friend!”—such art pervades our daily lives and is often what we most enthusiastically share with others.

If it is inherent in Homo sapiens to quest for knowledge it is also inherent in Homo sapiens to express themselves, and those expressions can be in words, music, movement, stone, wood, paint or light. If it is not in our individual abilities to express ourselves well, with subtlety and finely honed craft, we still, all of us, have the desire to do so. It is wonderful when artists express, for example, stories that speak for us and to us, in essence giving them to us as our own if we want them. If cut off from that, if we could not share the expressions of artists, and share them with others, would we not become frustrated, our emotions thrown into chaos, our view of the world surrounding us squeezed into a narrow aperture letting in little light? And would not that be detrimental to our well-being?
Scientists and artists both contribute “a lot” to society’s well-being, because their work—the quest for knowledge and the expression of selves—are essential human endeavors. If those endeavors were not carried out we would be less human and our society would eventually become diminished.

If the Old Curmudgeon in me is right, that the public – atavistically known as the man in the street – places the contributions of scientists to the well-being of society far above that of artists because they overvalue the popular in science and take for granted the popular in art, then that is sad. If they knew the true value of both I believe the percentages would have been much closer—and both very high.

But what do I know? I’m just the Effete Elitist in the Street.