Read Online The Best Australian Science Writing 2013 by Jane McCredie - Free Book Online
Authors: Jane McCredie
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trunk. Darwin had not yet developed his theory of natural selection, but this was a bold start. Not coincidentally, Darwin began to suffer heart palpitations at this time: the anxiety of rebellious ideas.
Over 150 years after the publication of On the Origin of Species in 1859, Darwinâs theory is still at the heart of contemporary debates. It is no coincidence that two of the so-called Four Horsemen of the New Atheism, Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett, have written extensively on evolutionary theory â Dawkins as a scientist, and Dennett as a philosopher.
With his theory of natural selection, Darwin was questioning the divine origins of humanity. To accept Darwinism is to reject a literal reading of Genesis: God did not make mankind with dust and breath. Like all life, we are just one small link in a long chain of unconscious, unplanned change.
This revolution, in the 19th century, was a theological kick in the guts for many of the faithful, and it still smarts today. âWe are not,â said Pope Benedict, the spiritual leader of over one billion Catholics, âsome casual and meaningless product of evolutionâ.
For those who take modern ideas for granted, it is vital to remember this: the radicalism in Darwinâs writings, and its personal relevance for many theists.
But it is even more important to remember how modest Darwin was about his radicalism. His theory began not with âI knowâ, âthis must beâ or âthou shallâ, but with a humble âI thinkâ.
Darwin was intellectually courageous and determined, but he was not a righteous ideologue. More than anything, Darwin seemed driven by diligent curiosity. As a student at Shrewsbury School, he wandered off to collect beetles; at Edinburgh University, he preferred looking in fishing nets to looking at surgery.
Darwinâs poor academic results reflected his boredom withthe syllabuses of medicine and theology, but also his fascination with plants and animals.
Darwin eventually left for Cambridge, discovered a mentor in botany, and began his illustrious career as a naturalist. What marked his success was this curiosity, combined with patience and doubt. Throughout his boyhood, youth and middle age, when Darwin undertook his exhaustive, exhausting study of barnacles, he was always chasing more evidence â not to shore up a predetermined conclusion, but to enhance and enrich his ideas.
Curiosity drove Darwin, but it did not blind or hurry him. Note his cautious excitement, as he writes to a colleague, in 1844, that he is âalmost convincedâ that the species change â they are not the eternal, perfect works of God. âIt is like confessing a murder,â he adds.
In an age often driven to celebrate or lament scientific power, this is a valuable reminder of the best scientific motives. Darwin was driven not by greed, egomania or devilish mockery, but by inquisitiveness, doubt and courage â each balancing the other.
The first virtue drew him in, fascinated by barnacles, and other perplexing problems. The other virtues stopped him from solving these problems too soon, or denying the solutions he discovered.
In this, Darwin was not a super-genius, blessed with perfect logic and an easy mastery of all sciences. He was a well-educated English gentleman, raised in a wealthy, free-thinking family, who combined ardour with persistence and scepticism. In so doing, he never let enthusiasm become zealotry, or speculation become doctrine.
This remains an important lesson today. The Darwinian revolution did not begin with hatred of religion, or with hubris and arrogance. It was a cautious love of truth, not a flaming hatred of superstition or myth â they are not necessarily the same urge.
And just as importantly, with training and drive, we are allable to observe carefully, analyse precisely, and speculate boldly; we can exercise our minds, instead of taking up church dogma or ideology. We can
Over 150 years after the publication of On the Origin of Species in 1859, Darwinâs theory is still at the heart of contemporary debates. It is no coincidence that two of the so-called Four Horsemen of the New Atheism, Richard Dawkins and Daniel Dennett, have written extensively on evolutionary theory â Dawkins as a scientist, and Dennett as a philosopher.
With his theory of natural selection, Darwin was questioning the divine origins of humanity. To accept Darwinism is to reject a literal reading of Genesis: God did not make mankind with dust and breath. Like all life, we are just one small link in a long chain of unconscious, unplanned change.
This revolution, in the 19th century, was a theological kick in the guts for many of the faithful, and it still smarts today. âWe are not,â said Pope Benedict, the spiritual leader of over one billion Catholics, âsome casual and meaningless product of evolutionâ.
For those who take modern ideas for granted, it is vital to remember this: the radicalism in Darwinâs writings, and its personal relevance for many theists.
But it is even more important to remember how modest Darwin was about his radicalism. His theory began not with âI knowâ, âthis must beâ or âthou shallâ, but with a humble âI thinkâ.
Darwin was intellectually courageous and determined, but he was not a righteous ideologue. More than anything, Darwin seemed driven by diligent curiosity. As a student at Shrewsbury School, he wandered off to collect beetles; at Edinburgh University, he preferred looking in fishing nets to looking at surgery.
Darwinâs poor academic results reflected his boredom withthe syllabuses of medicine and theology, but also his fascination with plants and animals.
Darwin eventually left for Cambridge, discovered a mentor in botany, and began his illustrious career as a naturalist. What marked his success was this curiosity, combined with patience and doubt. Throughout his boyhood, youth and middle age, when Darwin undertook his exhaustive, exhausting study of barnacles, he was always chasing more evidence â not to shore up a predetermined conclusion, but to enhance and enrich his ideas.
Curiosity drove Darwin, but it did not blind or hurry him. Note his cautious excitement, as he writes to a colleague, in 1844, that he is âalmost convincedâ that the species change â they are not the eternal, perfect works of God. âIt is like confessing a murder,â he adds.
In an age often driven to celebrate or lament scientific power, this is a valuable reminder of the best scientific motives. Darwin was driven not by greed, egomania or devilish mockery, but by inquisitiveness, doubt and courage â each balancing the other.
The first virtue drew him in, fascinated by barnacles, and other perplexing problems. The other virtues stopped him from solving these problems too soon, or denying the solutions he discovered.
In this, Darwin was not a super-genius, blessed with perfect logic and an easy mastery of all sciences. He was a well-educated English gentleman, raised in a wealthy, free-thinking family, who combined ardour with persistence and scepticism. In so doing, he never let enthusiasm become zealotry, or speculation become doctrine.
This remains an important lesson today. The Darwinian revolution did not begin with hatred of religion, or with hubris and arrogance. It was a cautious love of truth, not a flaming hatred of superstition or myth â they are not necessarily the same urge.
And just as importantly, with training and drive, we are allable to observe carefully, analyse precisely, and speculate boldly; we can exercise our minds, instead of taking up church dogma or ideology. We can
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