Get rich quick with an NTU

Get rich quick with an NTU

Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

Originally published 11 June 1990

Any sci­en­tist who finds him­self even mar­gin­al­ly in the pub­lic eye becomes the recip­i­ent of assort­ed new the­o­ries of the uni­verse from earnest nat­ur­al philoso­phers who work out­side of the main­stream of sci­ence. These range from the very clever to the mere­ly sil­ly, but all have two things in common:

They pur­port to over­throw con­ven­tion­al ideas of space, time, and causal­i­ty, and they protest against the close-mind­ed­ness of ortho­dox science.

Cre­ators of new the­o­ries of the uni­verse are gen­er­al­ly wast­ing their time knock­ing at the door of the sci­ence estab­lish­ment. For one thing, the typ­i­cal sci­en­tist bare­ly has time to keep abreast of the reg­u­lar sci­en­tif­ic lit­er­a­ture, much less read things that come in over the transom.

But aspir­ing Ein­steins need not despair. There is an appar­ent­ly insa­tiable mar­ket for new the­o­ries of the uni­verse out­side of sci­ence, and the mar­ket will grow with the ris­ing tide of New Age super­sti­tion that accom­pa­nies the end of the millennium.

The clever­est and best new the­o­ries of the uni­verse (NTU) stand to make their authors rich. Here­with, rules for pack­ag­ing your NTU if you want to succeed:

  1. Give your NTU a super­fi­cial aura of real sci­ence. Use words like cos­mic, mor­phic, plas­ma, ener­gy matrix, astral, ether­ic, res­o­nance, chaos. As a jus­ti­fi­ca­tion for your uncon­ven­tion­al physics invoke the Heisen­berg Uncer­tain­ty Prin­ci­ple (See! Even sci­en­tists are uncer­tain), or, if you want to sound real­ly sophis­ti­cat­ed, the Ein­stein-Podol­sky-Rosen Para­dox (What’s that? Nev­er mind, it sounds impressive).
  2. Flaunt your cre­den­tials if you have any. Put an MS or PhD. after your name; it does­n’t mat­ter in what field of study you acquired the degree. If you went to Har­vard, of course, that’s per­fect; but you can still claim “stud­ied at Har­vard” even if you once read a book in Har­vard Square.
  3. Make sure your NTU is easy to under­stand. You may use schemat­ic draw­ings of warped space-time, but, please, no mathematics.
  4. Don’t hes­i­tate to point out all the things that real sci­ence can’t explain: the ori­gin of life, the devel­op­ment of embryos, mem­o­ry, dreams.
  5. Remem­ber, your NTU needs evi­dence. A good rule of thumb is this: You can always track down at least a dozen pur­port­ed occur­rences of any phenomenon.
  6. Dis­tance your­self from the most sim­plis­tic super­sti­tions. For exam­ple, make fun of news­pa­per horo­scopes. But also make sure your new the­o­ry is loose enough to allow for — or, at least, not pro­hib­it — astrol­o­gy, ESP, psy­choki­ne­sis, and oth­er pop­u­lar para­nor­mal phenomena.
  7. Keep your NTU human-cen­tered. Real sci­ence tends to make peo­ple feel iso­lat­ed, for­got­ten, like cogs in a machine. A good NTU makes every indi­vid­ual the cen­ter of a cos­mic web of influences.
  8. Learn from the mas­ters, for exam­ple Lyall Wat­son, who invent­ed not one NTU but sev­er­al. His clas­sic paper­back Super­na­ture: A Nat­ur­al His­to­ry of the Super­nat­ur­al will show you how to make even the wildest non­sense look respectable. His lat­est book The Nature of Things: The Secret Life of Inan­i­mate Objects is sure to be a win­ner. Dr. Wat­son has been involved (I quote from his dust-jack­et bio) “in anthro­pol­o­gy in Jor­dan, Nige­ria, Indone­sia, and Brazil; arche­o­log­i­cal exca­va­tions in Israel, Turkey, and Peru; pale­on­tol­ogy in South and East Africa; marine biol­o­gy in the Indi­an Ocean; botany in the deserts of Sono­ra; med­ical research in the Philip­pines.” If Dr. Wat­son says com­put­ers, auto­mo­biles, but­tons, and paper­clips have secret lives of their own, then who are we to doubt?
  9. Don’t be afraid to evoke the wrath of the sci­en­tif­ic estab­lish­ment; this will prove you are on to some­thing big. The best thing that ever hap­pened to Rupert Shel­drake was a bit of intem­per­ate edi­to­ri­al­iz­ing in the sci­ence jour­nal Nature. Shel­drake (a Frank Knox Fel­low at Har­vard, PhD in bio­chem­istry from Cam­bridge Uni­ver­si­ty) is the author of A New Sci­ence of Life: The Hypoth­e­sis of For­ma­tive Cau­sa­tion, and more recent­ly The Pres­ence of the Past: Mor­phic Res­o­nance and the Mem­o­ry of Nature, books claim­ing that every­thing from crys­tals to humans become what they are because they remem­ber what they are sup­posed to be. When the for­mer book was pub­lished in 1981, Nature called it an “infu­ri­at­ing book…the best can­di­date for burn­ing there has been in many years.” And imme­di­ate­ly pro­pelled the book into the stratos­phere of NTUs. Every sub­se­quent edi­tion of Shel­drake’s book has used the Nature denun­ci­a­tion as a pub­lic­i­ty blurb. Why is Shel­drake’s the­o­ry of for­ma­tive cau­sa­tion and mor­phic res­o­nance so infu­ri­at­ing? Is the estab­lish­ment run­ning scared? Could it be that…?
  10. Remem­ber those famous lines from Ham­let: “There are more things in heav­en and earth, Hor­a­tio, than are dreamt of in your phi­los­o­phy.” Sci­en­tists don’t know every­thing. The key to suc­cess for any good NTU is to amass enough anom­alies, coin­ci­dences, odd­i­ties, excep­tions, prodi­gies, and won­ders that the sheer bulk of your data will con­vince the read­er that your the­o­ry is cor­rect. After all, if ortho­dox sci­ence can’t explain All of This, then mor­phic res­o­nance or super­na­ture or (insert your own the­o­ry) begins to look bet­ter and better.
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