Science for the Sake of Science: Grieving Something That Never Was?
6 MINUTES
Ever since I embarked on this journey of caring for saltwater invertebrates, I’ve learned far more about a topic that I’ve always wanted to pursue in my field, than I’ve ever had before; that’s because setting up an aquarium of any kind, is in fact, a form of “terraformation” in itself. Yet, at the same time, I ran into similar problems with Zoology, as with my main field: Physics.
From the moment I became more involved in my field post-graduation, I’ve been feeling all the more disappointed with the reality of Science in this day and age. While many may believe that the primitiveness of our technology is primarily to blame, I delved further and asked: Why is that?
The more I poked my head out of the shell of academia and into the real world, it became more apparent to me that “Science for the Sake of Science” was almost never the motive behind some of the greatest achievements of this world. Ulterior motives and of course, economics, were always large driving forces behind the pace of mankind’s scientific pursuits. Whether it was in Outer Space or Inner Space, the factors were always the same: “What can we profit from all this?”
Maybe growing up and never having to worry about anything significant, had already jaded my idea of “the reality of the way the world works,” but for what it was worth, perhaps it was for that reason that I was one of the fortunate ones who was able to dream uninhibited and go on what now seems to be a wild goose chase for those who are “lucky” enough to know “better”. It was only a matter of time until I discovered the heart and soul-crushing reality of a field I dedicated my whole life to — Science — was riddled with corruption on a scale far more than what I felt was normally expected for human-beings.
Writing has always been a source of solace for me. The only time however, when I find my mind unable to compose a draft is when I am in grieving. I suppose it makes sense now, why I kept making a scapegoat out of all sorts of reasons as to why I had no motivation to write: it was because for the first time in my life, I became uninspired by the concept of Space exploration (a pursuit I had dedicated my life to going after) for example, and likewise, I plunged into a state of grieving: grieving a reality that never was.
At this point in my life — nearing the end of my twenties — I ask myself: Did I grow up too fast?
In 2017, when I was working at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, I met someone so inspirational to me, I had encouraged him to write a book. It’s been common practice for me, to say to every person I meet who inspires me: “Why don’t you write a book about your experiences?” Unfortunately, his reaction was the same as everyone else’s of whom I had encouraged to write a book: a smile and nothing more. As the years passed and the more people I met, I started to narrow-down a trend: the wiser one becomes, the more that person is drawn inwards, eventually (whether intentionally or not) settling into a state of stoicism for letting the world be, as it gravitates and kowtows to the powers that be. One may argue that this is, in a sense, settling for mediocrity — something I had never been known for doing, and yet, here I was, imploding into silence because to see what I’ve been thinking, in black and white for a change, is to acknowledge the reality for what it is. I ask myself: “Could this be the same reason why everyone that served to inspire me to some degree, refused to document their experiences in a book?" Am I to feel flattered, finding something in common with these people that I had very much looked up to, or to feel shame, knowing that I am settling for mediocrity by unintentionally retreating into silence?” Perhaps it’s because the latter is the path of least resistance; after all, I’m not quite sure how well it would fare with most, to know that the bedrock of our knowledge of rocketry for example, originated from satanic rituals by a sex-crazed Californian aerospace engineer who had an obsession with black magic. Although as shocking as it was for me to learn this, it wasn’t this little morsel that left as much of an impression on myself as it was to discover, for example, that even the thing I had thought that I left behind in my motherland, also became the very reason that I had to figure out how to best care for a marine hermit crab on my own. As humans don’t consume hermit crabs, there isn’t much incentive for the industry to study them. We know more about shrimp than we do about hermit crabs for the simple fact that we eat them. In fact, it seems as though much of our knowledge on hermit crabs has been contributed by pet owners, but the accuracies leave much to be questioned, and, as a result, default to trial-and-error. The number of forums in existence that are dedicated to aquarium maintenance can serve as a testament to that.
Science per se will always be inspiring — that will never change. Just as a seed is given the right conditions to go on to flourish, soil deficiency can become the reason it never sprouted. It’s time we focused on nurturing Science for its own sake, rather than spoiling its potential through its soil. Although we may not see clearly the inner workings of the soil unless one delves deep, everything about it will be manifested in the plant — that is of course, if it even sprouted to begin with — but by then, it would be too late.
In spite of the the uncomfortable knowledge that I carry today, I also know for a fact that I am still young enough to be able to choose to use the knowledge and wisdom that was passed on to me, in ways that, although are unconventional, may just trace a way to get back on track to my original path in life — same idea but different target now. After all, it was an unconventional path that guided me in arriving where I am in my life today. Although this became the very definition of a paradox, being able to experience it so early in my life, can in itself, become the reason that the rest of my life, and, maybe the scientific pursuits as well in a new path that I am taking, won’t have to become one, and we can start by nourishing new batches of soil, rather than continuing to grow the garden of Science with tainted soil.
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