"Science takes the romance out of things." This was an offhand comment made to me in conversation at the pub the other night. Is that really what people believe? Apparently, it is. It's regrettable, but I suppose the old stereotype of scientists being unable to appreciate the beauty in things is still going strong. While it's a sad fact that there are a number of scientists I've met who fit this image, it's certainly not true of all of us (indeed, the same is true of many non-scientists too). It may be the case that some scientists might scoff at the concept of beauty and dismissively explain away the natural phenomena which cause aesthetics. In my opinion, these scientists are doing it wrong.
To me, science unveils a myriad worlds of beauty which our fragile minds could scarcely have imagined if we hadn't taken the time to understand how it is that they exist. In turn, understanding how beauty can come about can only serve to heighten the fascination it holds, even for the beauty we're already quite familiar with.
Consider a sunset. There are few people alive who haven't taken at least a fleeting moment to appreciate the majesty of a sunset. The resplendent colours which fill the sky and the long shadows cast across the face of our planet. And if anyone reading this has never stopped to watch a sunset, I heartily recommend that you do. Take a second to appreciate how enthralling nature can be. You won't regret it.
But take a second also, to consider exactly what it is you're seeing. Three million times as massive as the Earth and almost 150 million kilometres away, the Sun is the source of all of these colours. Light from the Sun spans this huge distance at a dazzling speed, reaching planet Earth in just over 8 minutes. As that sunlight reaches our atmosphere it illuminates the billions and billions of molecules which make up the air. Even though air, to us, is completely transparent, the individual photons which make up that light can bounce haphazardly off these molecules, scattering in all directions. The light which is scattered most is blue light, which is what gives our sky the deep cerulean hue we admire so, on a warm summer afternoon. At sunset though, the sunlight reaching us has passed through so much of our atmosphere that there's very little blue left in it. This is why at sunset, the sky is reddest when it's low to the horizon, fading through orange and yellow higher in the sky.
Beauty is not a magic trick. Understanding how it works doesn't detract from its magnificence. If anything, the realisation of the sheer magnitude of what you're seeing should make it all the more captivating. Captivating, and ever so slightly humbling, with the realisation that each of us is just a tiny part of a huge planet, in a huger solar system. In an unimaginably vast Universe.
Just try and tell me that scientific understanding isn't beautiful.

"It does no harm to the romance of the sunset to know a little bit about it."
-- Carl Sagan
Image credit: Alvesgaspar, Wikimedia Commons
To me, science unveils a myriad worlds of beauty which our fragile minds could scarcely have imagined if we hadn't taken the time to understand how it is that they exist. In turn, understanding how beauty can come about can only serve to heighten the fascination it holds, even for the beauty we're already quite familiar with.
Consider a sunset. There are few people alive who haven't taken at least a fleeting moment to appreciate the majesty of a sunset. The resplendent colours which fill the sky and the long shadows cast across the face of our planet. And if anyone reading this has never stopped to watch a sunset, I heartily recommend that you do. Take a second to appreciate how enthralling nature can be. You won't regret it.
But take a second also, to consider exactly what it is you're seeing. Three million times as massive as the Earth and almost 150 million kilometres away, the Sun is the source of all of these colours. Light from the Sun spans this huge distance at a dazzling speed, reaching planet Earth in just over 8 minutes. As that sunlight reaches our atmosphere it illuminates the billions and billions of molecules which make up the air. Even though air, to us, is completely transparent, the individual photons which make up that light can bounce haphazardly off these molecules, scattering in all directions. The light which is scattered most is blue light, which is what gives our sky the deep cerulean hue we admire so, on a warm summer afternoon. At sunset though, the sunlight reaching us has passed through so much of our atmosphere that there's very little blue left in it. This is why at sunset, the sky is reddest when it's low to the horizon, fading through orange and yellow higher in the sky.
Beauty is not a magic trick. Understanding how it works doesn't detract from its magnificence. If anything, the realisation of the sheer magnitude of what you're seeing should make it all the more captivating. Captivating, and ever so slightly humbling, with the realisation that each of us is just a tiny part of a huge planet, in a huger solar system. In an unimaginably vast Universe.
Just try and tell me that scientific understanding isn't beautiful.

"It does no harm to the romance of the sunset to know a little bit about it."
-- Carl Sagan
Image credit: Alvesgaspar, Wikimedia Commons






Comments
(Though in truth, the phrase just seemed to fit!)
I reached this journal through
Thank you!
Pleased to meet you!
Once I "graduated" high school (technically I was homeschooled) I spent the next four years educating myself. Something happened along the way. I found my inner child again. Eventually the "beautiful background" became the focus of all my attention and the more I understood it, the more alluring and accessible it became. Science can't take away all of the mystery anyway. The more we find out, the more questions there are. Going on this never-ending journey to understand is the best part because the more we find out, the more we imagine and the more we want to explore. Sterile, it is not.
I have to admit, when I read this...
"While it's a sad fact that there are a number of scientists I've met who fit this image..."
my jaw dropped. Reading this shattered the image of what I always thought a scientist should be. I can't imagine what motivates these scientists. Science, to me, could never be "just a job".
And don't let your image be shattered. For every one to whom science is "just a job" there is at least one to whom science is a lifestyle choice. It has to be said, also, that astronomers tend to be amongst the latter. Perhaps because, as Sagan said, astronomy is a humbling and character building experience...
Furthermore, I'm glad you got your curiosity back. It seems to me that children are taught not to ask questions because they're "not sensible". Teaching kids to not want to learn seems, to me, to be the greatest irony in modern human society.
People don't tend to become scientists just to make money...
Cheers,
Boris
Thanks for stopping by. :)
Eg. birefringent beetles. Rather than thinking "ooh shiney", it's much more awesome knowing why the colour changes when you look from a different angle. It's very impressive!