Myth-Making at the Science Museum
Day one of our in-state vacation is in the bag.? In the morning we visited the Fernbank Museum of Natural History, and after a late lunch, we spent the afternoon swimming in the hotel’s pool, ordered pizza to the hotel room, and went back out swimming after a bit of Cartoon Network to kill time while we digested.
It’s been a while since I visited a science museum geared towards grown-ups rather than children; while I enjoy children’s museums when I can visit, there’s nothing quite like some real, detailed exhibits about paleontology, physics, and other such things.? This time around, though, I noticed more than I had in the past just how much mythopoesis goes on in such places.
That literary and “religious” texts tell stories is no new information to anyone who’s studied them; the real fun of creation-texts, whether authoritative like Genesis or otherwise like Ovid, has to do with the particular moves that one text makes that no other makes.? In other words, one could “demythologize” the seven days of Genesis 1 or the golden age of Metamorphoses, but what residue remained wouldn’t be nearly as interesting as the texts themselves, perhaps some bland anthropological leftovers or someone’s pet ideology about how “those ignorant people deal with the world.”
The point here, of course, is that modern science, the sort that a Natural History Museum, does the same sort of thing, only in reverse.? I’m not by any means an expert on astronomy, but I do know about spectrograph readings, red-shifting galaxies, and the range of observations that led astronomers to claim that other galaxies are journeying away from a common point.? And the “Walk through Time in Georgia” exhibit did mention those techniques and observations, but only in passing.? The first thing to hit the audience in the video presentation was the soundtrack: although it wasn’t Strauss, it was a rousing symphonic crescendo, leading into a coherent narrative about a “Big Bang” that emerges from mystery, proceeds into a period of chaotic plasma-juggling, leading to an age of fire, then of water, and finally–LIFE!
In other words, there’s no denying that red shift and elements’ spectra happen.? They’re repeatable, and they seem to be universal.? But they don’t tell their own stories; starting with what I’d call ready-demythologized bits of information, places like Fernbank do the work that Genesis and Ovid used to do, laying before the public a coherent story into which their own experiences can make sense.? The order of operations is different, starting with instead of ending up with inert observations and ending with instead of starting with a compelling linear story, but all the elements are there in both cases.
By saying these things, I repeat, I do not deny that the theory-laden observations of things like structural continuity among phyla of living things, red-shifting galaxies, dinosaur bones, and other such things.? Although I’m not by profession a scientist, I do value their work.? But one can hardly fail to notice that, when it comes to presenting what science does in public places, the storytelling commences in a hurry.? Carl Sagan did it.? George Lucas did it.? (Just watch the beginning of Land Before Time.)? And my hunch is that the New Atheists do it too.? I’m going to start reading Richard Dawkins soon, and my hunch is that he’s got just as much myth-maker in him as Ovid ever did, even if he lacks the poetic verve.
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As a scientist, I can say that this observation of yours is spot on. However, I hasten to add that this storytelling is absolutely necessary in order for science to be relevant to us as humans. It is, in my view, one of the biggest areas that science holds in common with other great human endeavors, such as art and theology. Especially in order for scientists to express their work to non-scientists, we absolutely have to tell stories and engage in myth-making, so to speak. Stories are what captivate people, not endless charts and graphs. Even when we are talking to each other at formal scientific conferences, we still tell stories. The best peer-reviewed journal articles are those that tell a story about their scientific findings, making use of well-constructed figures and graphs, not those who dazzle and overwhelm with technical jargon devoid of any life. The key here is to do so in a way that conveys the actual scientific content we are trying to get across in a manner that is both compelling and true to the science. That is, we can’t let the storytelling oversimplify; as Einstein said, “Everything should be made as simple as possible, but not simpler.” In this regard, it is no different from religious texts which, as you say, start with myth and story-telling to convey truths to their audiences.
I strongly believe that this story-telling and myth-making propensity is a strong part of what makes us human, as image-bearers of God even, and scientists shouldn’t be faulted for doing so as well, since science itself is a human enterprise. That said, however, there is a huge danger here as well. Scientists can get carried away popularizing the science, to the point where scientific truths become confused with philosophy and even theology. That is, scientific findings become elevated to a level of authority they were never meant to have, and all sorts of philosophical and theological (or atheological) presuppositions are sneaked in under the door, whether deliberately or not. I’m speaking of such things as philosophical naturalism and scientism, which many scientists are seemingly unable to recognize and separate from science itself. The New Atheists are kings at this, but plenty of Christian or otherwise theistic scientists have been guilty of this at one time or another.
I’m not saying that scientists shouldn’t ever wax philosophical or theological when they are discussing their science. In my view, there are clear benefits to doing so, since there are plenty of areas where science can overlap with these other frameworks of thought (in fact, this is the area where I feel strongly called by God to minister to others in). We just need to be careful to identify and emphasize the differences, and above all, be humble about our pronouncements and our own assessments of our understanding.
Thanks for the comments, Dan. (I know fourteen years have passed since I left Plainfield, but the diminutive is still a temptation.) Let me ask you this: given that the observations in the cases of red-shifting galaxies and of structural analogy in animals’ body structures are prior to the mythopoesis of “Big Bang” and “Evolution,” how do you imagine Christians’ most fruitful options for engaging with the posterior myth-making that so often translates into apologetics for new atheism? I know I’ve run into approaches that try to fit the texts of Genesis and the Psalms to the new observations, approaches that start with the new myths (in the broad, Aristotelian sense) and try to Christianize them (as Genesis 1 seems to be Jah-ifying the Babylonian Enuma Elish), and approaches that tend away from cosmological story-making at all, leaving that to “science” while “religion” takes care mainly of psychological realities. Is this basically the range of approaches you’ve seen, and which ones do you see as more or less fruitful for Christians and for scientists?
Hi Nate,
I have to confess that I’m not sure what you are talking about when you say the “diminutive is still a temptation” — something to do with my name, I assume (i.e. not calling me “Danny” in favor of “Dan”, perhaps?
).
Your questions strike at the heart of what has occupied much of my thinking in my adult life as a Christian and scientist (but not a Christian Scientist, of course
), and I can’t claim to have good answers, but only a framework for which to begin to construct some. Let me try to outline below how I think on this matter.
I’m something of a philosophical and scientific realist. I really do think that the world we are revealing through science does indeed, in some meaningful way, connect with the “real world”. I also believe that direct revelation (I’m thinking in particular, from God, both through Scripture and through the Holy Spirit) is a valid way of knowing about the “real world”. I couldn’t be a scientist without the former, or a Christian without the latter. However, because of the finiteness of human nature, we have incomplete understanding in regards to both of these epistemologies. In other words, we are bound to get things wrong in both the worlds of science and theology/philosophy. I think this directly translates into a need for us to be humble in our pursuit of knowledge, and equally so for the theologian, philosopher, or scientist.
To answer one of your questions, yes, that is indeed the range of approaches I’ve seen when Christians engage science. I think a lot of it boils down to the types and magnitudes of authority Christians ascribe to Scripture on one hand, and science on the other. Some will see Scripture as a scientific text and try to see all manner of scientific pronouncements in it. Hugh Ross comes to mind here when he explicitly tries to build one-to-one correspondences of the history of the Universe since the Big Bang to Chapter 1 of Genesis. I’m not convinced such an approach is wholly without merit, but I’m even less convinced that Scripture is meant to be viewed, at least in general, in this manner. Others, as you state, do indeed try to “Christianize” the new myths. Finally, others adopt (most of the time unwittingly) the non-overlapping magisteria (NOMA) view of Stephen Jay Gould, in which scientific “truth” has no bearing on religious (or more specifically Christian scriptural) “truth”. I think the second approach is the one least prone to error, not the least because I do agree that Genesis 1 may indeed be an attempt at this. I say this because I think the approach of “Christianizing” a myth, if done properly, acknowledges both the original attempt at grasping at the truth that the original mythmaker had, while also putting it into a distinctly Christian (and hopefully, therefore, more “truthful” context). Is this not more-or-less what Paul did when he referred to the inscription “to an unknown God” as a springboard for his preaching to the people of Athens? I’m strongly opposed, on the other hand, to the approach of NOMA: I think it betrays a simplistic view of knowledge and merely gives scientists and theologians an excuse to ignore the contributions of, while simultaneously paying lip service to, the other (as Gould himself seemed to do).
A distinction, as imperfect as it is, that has been helpful to me is to see science as part of the “general revelation” of God’s truth, and Scripture as part of the “special revelation”. Doubtless you have seen this approach before. Scripture can easily transmit profound truth about God’s nature without being scientifically rigorous, while science can do the same without (by itself) telling a “story”. It is up to us as humans to weave these into the stories of our lives, and in particular, it us up to us Christians to incorporate these into our continued growth in the “grace and knowledge” of Christ.
One of the things that has struck me about many of scientists, including (maybe even especially) the atheist ones is their profound sense of awe for the universe and for the ability of science to investigate it. I myself have been caught in this spell, as I learn more and more about science and its history. Carl Sagan was a great example of this sort of scientist. I truly believe that these folks are actually tapping into the “general revelation” of God. In my view, we Christians should embrace this as a form of worship. Where the atheist stands in awe of the universe and its wonderful complexity, the Christian theist does the same, and in addition, sees the mighty handiwork of God, who is both inexplicably immanent in his creation, and also stands transcendent to it. When dealing with atheists of this stripe, I try to point out whenever I can that both of us are, however feebly, touching on the same reality: only, one of us ascribes this ultimately to the person of God, and the other to an impersonal (for lack of a better term) “All”. At this point, hopefully a seed is planted that leads the atheist to long to know the God who has inspired them in this manner, without them even realizing it!
This leads me to the beginning, perhaps, of an answer to your main question. I think one of the best approaches we Christians can make when engaging with modern science and scientists, is to acknowledge their importance and even necessity, and to acknowledge the potential usefulness of the myths and stories that come out of the human’s attempt to make sense of science. Rather than shy away from these stories, we should co-opt them for our own purposes, and in a manner that makes the original storytellers think it was their idea all along! At the same time, we need to have a spirit of humility. Yes, the New Atheists often lack this, but this is precisely where we Christians, especially those of us in the sciences, can shine! By being humble, gracious, and respectful, we stand in sharp contrast to the grating, angry polemic coming from these quarters. Engaging in verbal mudslinging, as some have already done, is exactly the wrong approach, in my opinion (not that a good dose of biting sarcasm here and there can’t be useful!).
Note also here that I’m not suggesting that we advocate any particular “harmonization” of scientific knowledge with Scriptural revelation. Indeed, I’m not convinced we can do so in all cases with any degree of certainty or finality. Sometimes we need to be content with not fully understanding, but rather trusting. In this manner we can avoid straying too far either to the right or left, to paraphrase the Proverb.
I could go on, but I think I’ve written quite enough for one night! I have quite a bit to say on this subject, and in fact have been seriously considering starting a blog to expand on many of these issues at length. I hope this has at least been a bit helpful!
You hit it with the “Danny” thing–when we inhabited the same town, you were fifteen-year-old Danny Dawson, but I know I shouldn’t assume you’ve remained fifteen-year-old anybody.
I really like your take on scientific and Christian storytelling, and I’ve put a link to that on our youth ministry’s Facebook page for the teens to look at. If you ever start that blog, do let me know–I’ll be one of your cheerleaders.
With regards to philosophical/scientific realism, I’ll admit that my own thoughts change on that question every five years or so. I suppose right now I’m leaning where you are, namely that the predictive power of a scientific theory does in fact constitute an ontologically strong link between the shape of the theory and the shape of Nature’s workings. Then again, I’ve been reading Thomas Aquinas lately; if I start reading some more postmodernists, I might change my mind again.
Nate,
Thanks for the encouraging words! I’m flattered that you are using my post in your youth ministry; I truly hope that it is useful! If you or anyone in your group wishes to discuss any of this further, feel free to email me at ddawson@ou.edu.
Regarding the “15-year old Danny”, a lot of that person still remains, but a lot (probably more) has also changed. I’ve gone through many changes in my views and attitudes over the years, after coming close to despairing in my faith (if not actually in danger of losing it, although it was headed in that direction). I’ve come through much discipline and maturation of my faith since then, though I’m far from finished growing and am currently dealing with new trials.
Hopefully, when and if I do start that blog, I will find a venue in which I can express a lot of what’s been going on in my mind, especially in regards to the science/faith intersection, and you will be among the first to know when I do!
I’d be interested to know what other positions you take when you aren’t leaning toward philosophical/scientific realism. To be perfectly honest, I have devoted so much of my time to science, where I think I am most gifted, that I haven’t had a lot of time to investigate the many different philosophical views out there that touch on it. I have discovered, on the other hand, that many of my fellow scientists don’t even seem to be aware of these issues, and some view philosophy itself with a kind of aloof disdain.
I’m sure the 18-year-old Nate Gilmour has also become mostly a memory. (I hope much of him has, anyway.) That’s why I’m amused at the urge to address you as Danny.
To answer your substantive question, I’m most inclined towards scientific anti-realism when I take a long view of the history of scientific theories and the radical character of many of its breaks. For instance, when Becher was doing phlogiston-theory chemistry, and when Lavoisier and others later came along and proposed oxygen-theory chemistry as its successor, that move does not readily lend itself to a progression-of-realism explanation of the changes. Nobody sane will deny that successive theories have more predictive power with regards to repeatable phenomena; if they didn’t they wouldn’t be successive theories. But taking a long view and looking at our own best efforts as possibly analogous to things such as Lamarckian evolution, Ptolemaic astronomy, and Becherian chemistry, it’s not hard to develop a strong sense of skepticism about claims to realistic description.
That said, I’m also compelled by Thomist accounts of knowledge derived from sense-experience as genuine knowledge, and I’ve been working (not yet in any form ready to go on the blog) on some way of accounting for radical theoretical differences and incorporating them into a robust realism. I’ve just not figured out how to do so yet.