What happens when science and technology crash head-on into one man’s cherished beliefs?
“You ruined my weekend” I accused my friend in an email.
Actually, she hadn’t really done anything wrong. She just forwarded some new scientific information I didn’t like. You see, it turns out Triceratops may never have existed.
A little background is perhaps in order: Triceratops was my favorite dinosaur as a child. A giant plant-eater with three horns and an armored plate on its head, the Triceratops was the epitome of the strong, silent type. A peaceful beast who nonetheless could hold its own in battle—even (according to the books I read when I was a kid) against the mighty Tyrannosaurus Rex.
When our son was born, one of his first presents from my mother-in-law was a brown stuffed Triceratops (how the toy-makers know what color to make them is beyond me). We named him “Tricky” and he sat atop the dresser, protecting our son from whatever evils the other stuffed animals might have planned.
But now scientists have to go and ruin all of this. It turns out that according to some of the most recent research, some paleontologists believe that Triceratops wasn’t a real species of dinosaur after all. Apparently, it was just a younger version of a lesser-known dinosaur called the Torosaurus. (There is apparently still some debate ongoing).
Bummer.
It turns out that knowledge of dinosaurs is inversely proportional to age. So much information has been discovered in recent years that children have far more accurate understandings than we adults.
The whole episode reminds me of the hubbub a few years ago when astronomers declared that Pluto was no longer to be considered a planet.
As technology improved, more and more information was discovered about the planets and other objects in our solar system and beyond. Scientists now realize Pluto is smaller than they originally thought—only about one-fifth the mass of our moon. More importantly, there are several other objects in the same area, at least one of which is larger than Pluto.
Astronomical associations realized they needed a specific definition of what it means to be a planet. Essentially, there were two choices: On the one hand, Pluto could still be a planet, but a handful of others would have to have that status as well. Depending on the definition, it could be just a few “new” planets or as many as dozens or even a couple of hundred.
But according to the definition they eventually adopted, a planet in our solar system must have three characteristics: it must orbit around the sun, it must be spherical (round or nearly so), and it must have “cleared the neighborhood” around its orbit. Unfortunately, Pluto didn’t make the cut. It and several other objects were given the status of “dwarf planet”.
There’s still some controversy, even among astronomers, but definition seems to make sense. Nonetheless, much of the public was outraged. Science be damned, this was about tradition.
There were several protest marches in support of Pluto’s planetary status. Songs were written for the celestial body. One catchy slogan declared “Science is wrong—Pluto belongs”.
Third graders sent letters to the American Museum of Natural History. Even the New Mexico House of Representatives got involved, passing a resolution stating that “Pluto will always be considered a planet while in New Mexican skies.” (I’m not sure how exactly they defined “New Mexican skies” or when Pluto would be in them).
I can understand the emotion involved in all of this. Given our feelings for Tricky Triceratops, I know how attached we can all get to the traditions of our youth.
But we must be aware that there are those who would exploit our ignorance and there is a danger in shutting our brain down to new information. Some religious leaders would like you to ignore the mountain of evidence in support of evolutionary theory because their traditions say the earth is less than six thousand years old. In support of this, the Creation Museum in Kentucky even has exhibits showing dinosaurs and humans living side by side.
As much as I’d like to think I could have ridden a Triceratops to the grocery store, I’m not buying it.
Similarly, large oil companies have spent millions on a misinformation campaign to convince the public that global warming isn’t happening, or that if it is, it’s not caused by humans. Their motives are pure self-preservation and profit, but the effects of their effort goes beyond ignorance; the inaction we are seeing on global warming is already having serious, soon to be catastrophic effects.
Perhaps it’s a personal defect, but I simply cannot shut down that part of my brain that has already processed the new information. I’m neither a paleontologist nor an astronomer, so I have to trust the leaders of those fields. If they say Triceratops was really just a baby Torosaurus, I’ll have to assume it’s the case. If they say Pluto doesn’t meet the definition of a planet, then I guess we’ll all have to live with it.
I wouldn’t argue for blind adherence to experts. One need not agree with anyone with an advanced degree and a podium. And scientists often do disagree on many of the details of their work.
But I do believe that sound application of the scientific method across multiple studies and peer review will, over time, lead to greater knowledge. When a consensus is reached by those who spend their lives studying a subject, the conclusions may not be perfect, but they’ll almost always be better than what we knew previously.
So, reluctantly, I’ll say goodbye to Pluto. And with great sadness, I may say goodbye to Triceratops as well. (We’re keeping Tricky though.)
Back to the email exchange with my friend: Luckily, she took no offense to my dismay over the shocking news. In fact, she seemed to understand. “I know how you feel” she said. “If they say anything about Stegosaurus, I might have to take some personal time to cope.”
(An earlier version of this piece appeared in the Porterville Recorder on November 3rd, 2010.)
Photo: Image Editor/Flickr
