A farewell — and a recommendation

A farewell — and a recommendation

Photo by David Clode on Unsplash

Originally published 9 December 2003

Sev­er­al weeks ago, The New York Times asked in the head­line of its Tues­day sci­ence sec­tion — “Does Sci­ence Mat­ter?” — then spent 16 pages sug­gest­ing an answer: Indeed it does, more than ever.

But the Times also not­ed that this con­clu­sion is not nec­es­sar­i­ly that of the Amer­i­can pub­lic. The pres­tige of sci­en­tists is declin­ing. Reli­gious fun­da­men­tal­ism and belief in the para­nor­mal is on the rise. Reflect­ing this nation­al mood, the gov­ern­ment pro­vides few­er dol­lars for sci­en­tif­ic research.

Appar­ent­ly peo­ple want pat answers to the big ques­tions of life, and sci­ence does­n’t pro­vide them. Nor can it. The dri­ving force of sci­ence is curios­i­ty about the unknown. Sci­ence thrives on mystery.

The 20th cen­tu­ry was Amer­i­ca’s cen­tu­ry not least because of the pre­em­i­nence of Amer­i­can sci­ence. For this same rea­son, the 21st cen­tu­ry might belong to Asia, and espe­cial­ly Chi­na, as Amer­i­ca retreats into dog­ma and superstition.

What can be done? Prob­a­bly noth­ing. If peo­ple want pat answers, they will have them.

For 20 years, I have shared in this col­umn my admi­ra­tion for those men and women of past and present who hold their knowl­edge of the world against the refin­ing fire of empir­i­cal expe­ri­ence. They are part of a glo­ri­ous tran­scul­tur­al intel­lec­tu­al tra­di­tion that has led us into the heart of liv­ing cells and to the dis­tant galaxies.

Of course, sci­ence also can slip into smug self-cen­tered­ness. Sci­en­tists are not immune to the cozy secu­ri­ty of dog­ma. But of all the ways humans have devised to obtain reli­able pub­lic knowl­edge of the world, it is my con­vic­tion that sci­ence is the least sus­cep­ti­ble to acci­dents of birth, per­son­al prej­u­dice, the coer­cions of author­i­ty, and the strait­jack­ets of tradition.

Yet sci­ence alone is an incom­plete basis for a life. We need our Jane Austens, Igor Stravin­skys, and Albert Schweitzers as much as our Charles Dar­wins, Marie Curies, and Albert Ein­steins. What poets, artists, saints, and sci­en­tists share is a capac­i­ty to be astonished.

This col­umn is the last of Sci­ence Mus­ings. It has been a long, joy­ous ride, not least because of the always thought­ful respons­es of read­ers. Your will­ing­ness to share your knowl­edge and life expe­ri­ences has been an impor­tant part of my edu­ca­tion, and I am grate­ful to you.

As a part­ing token of my grat­i­tude, let me share with you my plea­sure in a book I have just fin­ished read­ing: For the Love of Insects, by Thomas Eis­ner (Har­vard Uni­ver­si­ty Press, 2003).

Eis­ner is pro­fes­sor of chem­i­cal ecol­o­gy at Cor­nell Uni­ver­si­ty, and one of Amer­i­ca’s pre­em­i­nent ento­mol­o­gists. He has spent a life­time fig­ur­ing out the chem­i­cal lan­guage of insects. He has pub­lished hun­dreds of sci­en­tif­ic papers. His new book is a per­son­al mem­oir of a life­time in sci­ence, engag­ing­ly writ­ten and stun­ning­ly illus­trat­ed with pho­tographs of insects doing aston­ish­ing things.

Eis­ner’s bugs squirt, secrete, ooze, defe­cate, and regur­gi­tate a whole vocab­u­lary of chem­i­cals, to mark, repel, attract, and entan­gle. Eis­ner “lis­tens” and “trans­lates” this chem­i­cal lan­guage with exper­i­ments that are enchant­i­ng in their simplicity.

What makes Eis­ner a world-class ento­mol­o­gist is not access to mil­lion-dol­lar sci­en­tif­ic instru­ments, but a mind that nev­er stops ask­ing “Why?” And this with­in a life that is filled with the joys of fam­i­ly, trav­el, music, literature.

There is no dan­ger of run­ning out of mys­ter­ies. As Eis­ner points out, the 1.5 mil­lion species of organ­ic life that have so far been described by sci­ence are only a frac­tion of the num­ber that exist. Most crea­tures on this plan­et await dis­cov­ery, and even the most famil­iar have secrets to reveal.

There are no great philo­soph­i­cal con­clu­sions in Eis­ner’s book, no pat answers to the big ques­tions of life; just one man’s unremit­ting curios­i­ty about the nat­ur­al world.

One comes away from For the Love of Insects with a sus­pi­cion that unremit­ting curios­i­ty in the face of inex­haustible mys­tery might just be an answer to the biggest ques­tion of all: What makes a human life worth living?


Edi­tor’s note: After 20 years and over 900 week­ly essays, this was the final Sci­ence Mus­ings col­umn pub­lished in the Boston Globe news­pa­per. After a few months break, Chet resumed writ­ing his week­ly med­i­ta­tions on sci­ence for a new online audi­ence by way of the orig­i­nal incar­na­tion of the ScienceMusings.com web­site. Those essays will be repost­ed here start­ing tomorrow.

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