Smiling faces, orbs of fire

Smiling faces, orbs of fire

Coronal holes in the sun's atmosphere • (NASA/GSFC/SDO)

Originally published 11 July 2004

A grand­child’s cray­on draw­ing dec­o­rates our fridge. A big round Sun with a smi­ley face.

Why do very young kids always put a face on the Sun?

The Swiss child psy­chol­o­gist Jean Piaget gave us the answer.

Dur­ing the mid-twen­ti­eth cen­tu­ry, Piaget pub­lished a num­ber of influ­en­tial books on the inner lives of chil­dren. A child’s ear­li­est under­stand­ing of the world is invari­ably ani­mistic (every­thing is alive) and arti­fi­cial­ist (every­thing is the result of a con­scious agency), he said. Very young chil­dren tru­ly imag­ine that the Sun is alive. Ask a child why the Sun is in the sky and the answer will be some ver­sion of “It was put there for me.”

Chil­dren con­fuse inter­nal and exter­nal worlds, the psy­chi­cal and the phys­i­cal. Only with time do they rec­og­nize the exter­nal and inde­pen­dent real­i­ty of Sun, Moon, wind, clouds, trees, stars.

Piaget believed these stages of devel­op­ment in chil­dren are uni­ver­sal and innate.

Anthro­pol­o­gists tell us that ani­mistic and arti­fi­cial­ist think­ing is uni­ver­sal among all pre-sci­en­tif­ic peo­ples of the world. The par­al­lel between the intel­lec­tu­al devel­op­ment of chil­dren and the evo­lu­tion of sci­ence was not lost on Piaget.

Both as indi­vid­u­als and as a species, we begin with pro­jec­tions of our inner lives onto the world, and move towards recog­ni­tion of an exter­nal real­i­ty that is inde­pen­dent of ourselves.

It has become fash­ion­able of late among cer­tain aca­d­e­mics to sug­gest that ani­mistic and arti­fi­cial­ist views of the world — such as those of chil­dren or pre-sci­en­tif­ic cul­tures — are no less legit­i­mate than the world­view of science.

There is no knowl­edge that is inde­pen­dent of the know­er, say these post­mod­ern rel­a­tivists, and sci­en­tif­ic knowl­edge has no more claim to objec­tiv­i­ty than any oth­er kind of knowledge.

But if we have learned any­thing dur­ing the last few thou­sands years of human devel­op­ment it is that ani­mism and arti­fi­cial­ism lead nowhere. Sci­en­tif­ic think­ing has been the only effec­tive engine of mate­r­i­al progress.

Sci­ence makes three assump­tions about the world:

  1. There is a real­i­ty that exists inde­pen­dent­ly of our own minds.
  2. Things hap­pen accord­ing to nat­ur­al laws, not at the whim of a con­scious agency.
  3. Nature’s laws can be known with an ever greater degree of confidence.

That’s it. And that’s why sci­ence works and mag­ic doesn’t.

The Indi­an philoso­pher Meera Nan­da puts it this way: “While all medieval, pre-Galilean sci­ences, whether from Europe, Asia or Africa explained nature through anthro­po­mor­phic metaphors pecu­liar to their time and place, mod­ern sci­ence alone man­aged to break free of time and space.”

Mod­ern sci­ence is the sea into which all the rivers of local under­stand­ing flow, says Nan­da, and which brings new ideas and inno­va­tions from around the world to all shores alike.

Jean Piaget under­stood this too. He was a child prodi­gy who became inter­est­ed in sci­ence at an ear­ly age. He wrote and pub­lished his first sci­en­tif­ic paper at the age of ten, a short note on sight­ing an albi­no spar­row. He honed his obser­va­tion­al skills with stud­ies of the mol­lusks of Lake Gene­va, and earned a Ph.D. in zoology.

Even­tu­al­ly he turned to the study of the inner life of chil­dren pre­cise­ly to gain a deep­er under­stand­ing of the sci­en­tif­ic quest for reli­able knowl­edge of the world.

A child puts a smi­ley face on the Sun because it is reas­sur­ing to imag­ine a friend­ly Sun who fol­lows her about the yard. It requires rather more dar­ing to accept a Sun that is a vast, dis­tant sphere of fire, inan­i­mate and indifferent.

The Sun we study with satel­lite tele­scopes is a far cry from the human­like Sun god of the ancient Egyp­tians or the Greek Helios who dri­ves his gold­en char­i­ot dai­ly across the sky.

Or the smil­ing orb of the child.

Knowl­edge is not all rel­a­tive. Some knowl­edge is more reli­able than oth­ers. To accept that fact is called grow­ing up.

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