It may seem I have focused on “dissing” scientists lately. The focus of my irritation is mainly limited to theoreticians who fancy themselves somewhat more than scientists, who overlap, stepping into other disciplines with flagrant disregard, without bothering to educate themselves first. In this, they commit the same transgressions they complain about. Actually, I admire their chutzpah, too.
Experimental scientists, on the other hand, rock. They are the blue collar grease monkeys that stick their fingers into the light sockets to find out what will happen. They get the job done. They are the detectives and the judges, having the final say about the theoretician’s abstract arguments, as well as their own. In general, they are a more humble lot, without necessarily being any less imaginative or knowledgeable than their theoretical counterparts. Of course, theorists, being who they are, would generally disagree. But that doesn’t matter.
There are some people who would argue that science has not improved our lives. It has. And it has done so because there are people curious about how everything around us works. We help them go about exploring their curiosity while simultaneously reaping the benefits. It is a good relationship. Unfortunately, that relationship is sometimes strained.
For example, Europe’s Large Hadron Collider has recently wandered into the mainstream’s attention. This is not altogether accidental — scientists realize their funding is largely dependent upon the goodwill of the masses. They have learned to improve their marketing skills, usually by exploiting the ever-hungry egos of theoreticians eager to be elevated to celebrity status. But in doing so, they have provided an excellent service, bringing many modern scientific questions to the attention of we lay people. It is unprecedented.
Unfortunately, being new to the multiplicity we throngs of monkeys represent, scientists appear to make a naïve assumption. That is, monkeys are reasonable. We are not. We are interested in those things which make us happy. We do not like things that make us unhappy. Reason makes scientists happy. But it does not, necessarily, make all the other monkeys happy. So, what to do? Well, let’s find some common ground. What makes everyone happy? It would be a very large orgy indeed, making everyone happy through sex and love. It would also be both impractical and messy. Perhaps the next best thing for we cute little hedonists? How about money?
The Large Hadron Collider (LHC) is huge, and quite expensive. It is, in most ways, the most powerful and complex machine ever constructed, drawing upon a dizzying array of disciplines. The LHC employs thousands of people, bringing Europe once again into the forefront of high energy particle physics, and likely, physics in general. People desire to go where they will be free, and feel they have a chance at a good future. And for scientists, Europe has all the candy.
The question is, in terms of candy, how much did Europe have to pay for this massive influx of brain talent? The answer is, just about the same amount as the United States would have paid to build the Superconducting Supercollider (SSC), which would have been even more powerful and already in operation years ago. Unfortunately, it was too expensive for our tastes. Spread out over the construction time, the LHC has cost Europe approximately $1 billion per year to build. To put this in perspective, the United States is perfectly happy literally burning money on war at a rate that would build one SSC, or LHC, each and every month.
Instead, we paid just over one third the price tag for the SSC, creating the superconducting magnets, excavating over 20 miles of earth, and building the facilities in Texas. It cost us several billion dollars. However, instead of completing the project, we closed it down. The facility in Texas is now used instead as a training ground for military exercises in the “war on terror”. I can remember the day, so many years ago, when I learned the SSC was canceled. I was standing in the office of a government technology mogul at Battelle Memorial Institute, discussing a study I did on the effects the Internet would have on society; specifically government and industry. I was dumbfounded. I found it impossible understanding how Congress could cancel such an important project, particularly after spending so much money. The reasons were fascinating, and dispiriting.
England is experiencing similar debates right now concerning their financial contributions to the LHC. What I learned from the failure of the SSC is that the people making and influencing decisions are not altogether unreasoning. They make sense. However, they lack utterly any perspective that might allow them to see the oftentimes subtle, yet enormously revolutionary occurrences that inevitably spring from the pursuit of “pure science”.
Pure science is not, by definition, tied to any industry or money concern. It is the pursuit of knowledge, for the sake of knowledge. This is where all the good stuff happens. Discoveries are oftentimes unpredictable, and the consequences of those discoveries, surprising — and sometimes they are even revolutionary. As proof, most science laboratories have information systems in place that track unexpected results that can, later, be more fully explored. These systems are considered invaluable. Commercial laboratories often call these systems “Intellectual Property Management Systems”.
This represents the second reason scientists are marketing their research disciplines to the masses: it will hopefully educate the bureaucrats who determine the flow of funds. We see the debate this generates in action during a recent interview with Brain Cox, one of the newest science celebrities, on English television.
But, to our credit, the United States did go on to fund a large majority of the International Space Station. Anyone who watches the numerous astronaut interviews over the years cringes as the question inevitably arrives: “What benefit do we get out of the ISS?” At least, with each re-hash of the question, the public learns more. And in all honesty, it boils down to something very simple. The truly important stuff, we just don’t know. Yet. But maybe it’s worth finding out.
It’s natural to say, also, that money spent on colliers or space stations would be better spent feeding our poor, offering them medical services, or repairing our nation’s infrastructure. There is no ethical way to argue against that, reasonably. However, the issue is blurred when you consider that at least one-third, or possibly even one-half, of our country’s money is spent for war. Might it not be a worthy endeavor, drawing our attention toward the stars, or perhaps the inner workings of reality itself — in place of war? If we do, I suspect we might rediscover the better portions of our humanity that we seem to have misplaced.
I do speak of the hubris engendered by many theoreticians. It is hubris, imagining we can both understand and manipulate the components of reality. We may be mistaken. There may not even be components of reality to understand an manipulate, in the most fundamental sense. But I admire the theoreticians for trying, even when they do, so often, get caught within the trappings of more petty pursuits that may instead hinder scientific advancement. They are, after all, human, too.
I want to support science, for the pure sake of discovery and understanding. I want to learn from scientists, philosophers, poets, musicians, and even the consistently vexed clerk at the local 24-hour market. I don’t want to kill people. And I don’t want to be killed. I want to share what I’ve learned, too. I think, mostly, because it’s ours.
So this is what I hope, from our latest efforts, happening not within the shores of the United States. May we find things even more helpful than the observation of anti-matter annihilation within the substance of our bodies. May we find cures more useful than the directed streams of subatomic particle beams. May we find ourselves communicating even closer than quantum entanglement, through spooky actions at a distance. May we discover what gives us weight. May we learn to see new dimensions all around us. May we learn what binds us to the world. And, may we realize soon with certainty, that fundamentally we are, all of us, the same.
I know. There are issues in that. But in the interest of uniting around something besides death, how about we save taking on that problem for later. I’m inspired, Europa! Thank you.
And back at home, on our winding trails, one last thing. Good journeys to you, Mr. David Foster Wallace. Thank you, too.
It was strawberry waffles that did it to me, the first time. On a sunny day in Seattle, only recently living on my own on Capitol Hill. It’s a busy place for people on sunny days with sidewalks crammed by the flow of bodies in all directions. And at that point in history, Capitol Hill had wildly diverse people. I was having breakfast with a book, near the large windows revealing the spectacle of an unremarkable day. The strawberries were fresh, sweet and juicy. Then suddenly, everything around me became like one enormously real thing, yet completely unreal. I stopped mid-bite terrified, yet somehow without fear, at all that I saw in the commonplace before my eyes and ears. The movement of people appeared like mathematics, and the sounds of everything mashed in upon my head like a deafening drone.
Many things we believe, pursue and even promote, arise from conceptualizations we adhere to without fully questioning their validity beyond the sheer weight in numbers of the people similarly adhering. From our beginnings as children, open to any possibility and potential, we observe and make sense of our surroundings, from the most basic physical interactions to eventually the most complex abstractions. We rely upon those who know more than ourselves to determine oftentimes unknowable things for us. They do this because they are willing to do so, or feel a strong personal belief that doing so is beneficial in some way. These people have enormous power because they substantially define fundamental aspects of our lives. It is a power we give them. It is the reason art is often considered subversive to power.