Science and Politics in the Twenty-First Century
It's nothing new for science to be politicized. The Inquisition gave Galileo a choice: He could either stop seeing what he saw through his rudimentary telescope, or be burned at the stake. And Dick York, best known as Samantha's first Darren in "Bewitched," lost his job for teaching evolution in "Inherit the Wind." No wonder he turned to witchcraft in the end, if you ask me. Nowadays, it's climate change (or "global warming," depending on who's talking about it and when) and evolution (still!) and "when does life begin?" (i.e., the "right to choose" v. the "right to life.")
I think it's a great testament to the indomitable spirit of the American people that so many of us have strong opinions about scientific issues even though we know nothing at all about science, and can't distinguish a scientific "theory" from a crazy religious "myth." And of course, politicians and others can deal with inconvenient scientific research merely by a muttered reference to a "flawed methodology" or "insufficient data" before moving right back to wishful belief again.
But just like judges, scientists themselves aren't ideally supposed to be politicized. They're supposed to go looking for the truth, and when they find it, they're supposed to embrace it, even if it turns out that their personal "beliefs" were wrong all along. Scientists, however, are human beings first, and it's no surprise that they have a hard time seeing "inconvenient truths," even when they're right in front of them. However, imperfect as they are, most scientists will try to remain true to the pursuit of truth, unless they've sold out entirely and are working for the major tobacco companies or the DEA or something. Nonetheless, scientists often see what they want to see, just like everybody else. This is why it's legitimate to demand a scientific "consensus" before altering one's worldview. The problem kicks in when people are so hidebound in their beliefs that they can't recognize when the consensus has been reached.
So what's a person who went to California public schools supposed to do when some scientific question becomes a political football? How does one make up one's mind about, for instance, the question of whether the world is overpopulated with human beings who are significantly contributing to the destruction of the environment? Well, one way of resolving the issue would be to simply join the Republican Party. According to their selected science (read the party platform, if you don't "believe" me, and think about it; it's available online) we don't need contraception (and certainly not the "right to choose"), we do need guns, and "global warming" is a myth.
Alternatively, you could believe that violence will disappear if you ban "assault-style" firearms (apparently defined as guns that would look cool in an action movie or video game,) despite that only a tiny fraction of gun deaths occur as the result of homicide committed with a rifle of any kind, or that the best way to control crime is issue driver's licenses and benefit checks to illegal aliens.
Or... just throwing it out there... you could do a lot of reading and a little thinking and come to the realization that neither of the big political parties has it right (how could they, since ideological purity is demanded by both, and independent thinking is reflexively punished by the leadership and the voters?). If you did that, you could then try to navigate the system with a "one from column A and one from column B" approach. But then everyone would hate you. Plus, it sounds like a lot of work, doesn't it?
A couple hundred guys in coonskin caps and cowboy hats died at the Alamo, struggling to free (or steal, depending on your point of view) from Mexico the great someday-to-be-a-state of Texas.
Eight astronauts were atomized when the space shuttle Challenger blew up, blasted into oblivion in the vanguard of Humanity's march to the stars.
Oh, and some dude got hit by a car while crossing the street after shooting Justin Bieber (with a camera.)
One way to look at it is that all these folks are losers, because they're dead. But where would we be without Texas, the space shuttle and that picture of Justin Bieber (or maybe just his parked car, depending on which version of the story you reference.)
Admittedly, there are those who think we'd be better off without Texas (and Justin Bieber, too) and who cares about the space shuttle anymore, because all the ones that didn't blow up are in museums now, anyway, and when's the last time you went to a museum? But you can't deny that all of these people I've mentioned must have thought they were doing something important enough to risk their lives for. And that brings us to a really interesting philosophical question: When, in general, is it worth risking your life for something?
I think that you have to start by acknowledging that you're doomed already. You don't have to fear The Reaper, or so the song says, and it doesn't do you any good, anyway, because "you can't cheat Death." So eventually, you are going to shuffle off this mortal coil and who knows then what dreams may come?
Well, those people who come around to bang on your front door on Saturday and hand out the little pamphlets and comic books about going to Hell and salvation and things seem pretty sure. And so do some of the upscale "secular humanists" at my office, who think you just blink out like a light bulb when your switch gets flipped. And of course we've got to acknowledge the wild-eyed Sons of the Desert who checked out so spectacularly on 9/11. (Talk about counting your virgins before they're hatched!) But personally, I think they're all just whistling in the dark.
These days, we seem to want to call everyone who experiences something bad a "hero," whether they survive the experience or not. I prefer a more restrictive definition, like "one who is scared to death but knowingly runs toward danger anyway in an attempt to achieve a noble objective." Of course, not all heroics involve life and death, but the "hero" has got to be risking a serious downside of some kind, otherwise it's just compassion or kindness, not heroics. You're not a hero if you give five bucks to a bum, even if that five bucks is what saves him from starving. But maybe somebody who mortgages their house and uses the money to bet on a racehorse in the hopes of winning enough money to save the orphan's home from foreclosure is a hero, especially if they win the bet and really do pay the orphan's mortgage, but also even if they lose and have to beg for five bucks in order to keep from starving. Or maybe they take a really BIG chance and actually adopt an orphan and bring the kid into their home.
In any event, knowingly confronting the downside is a big component of hero-hood. I don't think there's much room to question whether the atomized astronauts were heroes. After all, they voluntarily climbed up and strapped themselves to a huge bomb, and listened over the intercom while somebody counted down to lift-off. And they did it so that eventually human beings would have someplace else to go, which is essential since they won't stop breeding like rabbits. So they meet both the bravery and the noble objective tests. The guys at the Alamo were given a chance to leave, after the 5000 Mexicans showed up, and they didn't do it, so they must have been brave. History will judge whether wresting Texas from Mexico was a noble objective or not. What with Lyndon Johnson and George W. Bush, and the Waco and Luby's and Texas Tower massacres, I guess the jury's still out. As for the Justin Bieber dude, get real.
