After seeing more references than I care to remember about evolution merely being a "theory," I got annoyed and wrote up a post on my G+ account. Decided to share it here. Full text follows:
Particularly whenever somebody mentions evolution, or speaks against creationism, one of the evolution deniers will inevitably throw out the phrase “just a theory.”
I won't go so far as to say that it enrages me, but it does piss me off. As Inigo Montoya says in The Princess Bride, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.”
Words used in different contexts can mean completely different things. To most of the English-speaking world, in common parlance, “theory” refers to how something is thought to work. It's how something works on paper, but hasn't necessarily been conclusively proven in practise. It may or may not be commonly believed, but in the end, it is unproven.
In science, it has quite a different use. It is not some airy-fairy thought that scientists have faith in. It is not merely something that they haven't managed to disprove yet. It is not a hypothesis. Steven D. Schafersman* describes it better and more forcibly than I'd be able to without borrowing from him:
"The final step of the scientific method is to construct, support, or cast doubt on a scientific theory. A theory in science is not a guess, speculation, or suggestion, which is the popular definition of the word "theory." A scientific theory is a unifying and self-consistent explanation of fundamental natural processes or phenomena that is totally constructed of corroborated hypotheses. A theory, therefore, is built of reliable knowledge--built of scientific facts--and its purpose is to explain major natural processes or phenomena. Scientific theories explain nature by unifying many once-unrelated facts or corroborated hypotheses; they are the strongest and most truthful explanations of how the universe, nature, and life came to be, how they work, what they are made of, and what will become of them. Since humans are living organisms and are part of the universe, science explains all of these things about ourselves.
"These scientific theories--such as the theories of relativity, quantum mechanics, thermodynamics, evolution, genetics, plate tectonics, and big bang cosmology--are the most reliable, most rigorous, and most comprehensive form of knowledge that humans possess. Thus, it is important for every educated person to understand where scientific knowledge comes from, and how to emulate this method of gaining knowledge. Scientific knowledge comes from the practice of scientific thinking--using the scientific method--and this mode of discovering and validating knowledge can be duplicated and achieved by anyone who practices critical thinking."
Just a theory? Scientific theories contain some of the best of humanity and what we're capable of.
Just a theory? To those using that phrase about evolution for example - excuse the rudeness - but please shut up and go away. You don't understand the words you are using, and it is pointless to engage with you, as you don't know the language, and don't want to know the language.
* http://www.geo.sunysb.edu/esp/files/scientific-method.html
Bolding in the excerpt is added by me.
24 August 2012
8 August 2012
Doctor Who: The Waters of Mars
It seemed appropriate to re-watch this, given the successful Curiosity Rover Mars landing 2 days ago.
The character of Adelaide Brooke (played by Lindsay Duncan) is magnificent. In every part of this, but most spectacularly, the moments right at the end of the episode.
It's no secret that I love David Tennant. Not only is he my standard of "hot," but he's wonderful as the tenth Doctor. He's not quite as angry as Nine was, but still more driven by his passions than Eleven is. Eleven still has the anger, but it seems to be directed more inwards, making it difficult at times to hide his self-loathing. And Ten is in a particularly sensitive time for The Waters of Mars. Still too soon after losing Donna - not only his best mate, but she'd just experienced a link to him, to the Time Lords. Still too soon after finally being reunited with Rose, somebody who he loved so completely, only to leave her not only cut off from him again, but with a sort of clone of himself. Him, but a him who could really have a relationship with her. Ten leaves Rose, with his final visual memory of her being Rose kissing him, but not him. Two such powerful relationships, with two extraordinary women, lost almost at once.
So the Doctor checks out Mars, I suppose after having letting the TARDIS choose a "random" date for him. Only to land at a fixed point. He brings up Pompeii. Another fixed point that Donna begged him to lessen, at least a little. And in running away from it, he's the one who makes it happen. Only this time, he doesn't have Donna to stop him when needed, to remember what's right, and he's terrified about what he could do. He tries to run. But he's the Doctor. He desperately wants to let himself be drawn into it, he wants to help, he wants to find out what's going on, he knows he shouldn't.
He's pulled in by Adelaide, "the woman with starlight in her soul." He falls a little in love with her, as he does with all his companions, and gets and stays more involved than he know he should. Indeed, he brings about the fixed point even when he does all he can to stop it, as the "Time Lord Victorious." He tells her about Action 5, he tells her about what her death inspires. Had he not, would she have shot herself at the end? Would she have set the base to explode before they left? And she, like all his companions, falls a little in love with the Doctor as well. Had she not, would she have been so horrified by the idea of the Time Lord Victorious? Would she have tried to stop him, as Donna would have?
And her conversation with Adelaide at the end was gut-wrenching, but perfect.
The Doctor: For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. A Time Lord victorious.
Adelaide: And there's no one to stop you?
The Doctor: No.
Adelaide: This is wrong, Doctor! I don't care who you are! The Time Lord victorious is wrong!
The Doctor: That's for me to decide. Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up. You've been away. Still, that's easy... All yours.
Adelaide: Is there nothing you can't do?
The Doctor: Not anymore.
This was a turning point. The Doctor was starting to believe himself a kind of god, not subject to any rules. He was the victor, there were spoils from the Last Great Time War! What a monster he could have become, given enough time with that mind-set.
And then Adelaide, after standing up to him and unsuccessfully stopping him, quietly went inside and brought him back to himself. He doesn't get to decide who is important, and who is not so important. He doesn't get to operate outside of any rules. He needs someone, but will always end up lonely and alone in the end.
Coming back to himself, he knows more of what he's capable of. He articulates it somewhat in Series 6, A Good Man Goes to War.
Doctor: Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.
I love Adelaide, if only for reminding the Doctor of why he's the lonely god, trying to be more of a man, rather than striving towards more powerful god-hood. And I love the Doctor, for making people love him and want to be the best that they can be. And expose himself more clearly to himself.
A final thought. I think that in the fabric of time, a component of some of these fixed points specifically is supposed to include him bringing about said fixed points. As his TARDIS tells him in The Doctor's Wife, "I always took you where you needed to go."
The character of Adelaide Brooke (played by Lindsay Duncan) is magnificent. In every part of this, but most spectacularly, the moments right at the end of the episode.
It's no secret that I love David Tennant. Not only is he my standard of "hot," but he's wonderful as the tenth Doctor. He's not quite as angry as Nine was, but still more driven by his passions than Eleven is. Eleven still has the anger, but it seems to be directed more inwards, making it difficult at times to hide his self-loathing. And Ten is in a particularly sensitive time for The Waters of Mars. Still too soon after losing Donna - not only his best mate, but she'd just experienced a link to him, to the Time Lords. Still too soon after finally being reunited with Rose, somebody who he loved so completely, only to leave her not only cut off from him again, but with a sort of clone of himself. Him, but a him who could really have a relationship with her. Ten leaves Rose, with his final visual memory of her being Rose kissing him, but not him. Two such powerful relationships, with two extraordinary women, lost almost at once.
So the Doctor checks out Mars, I suppose after having letting the TARDIS choose a "random" date for him. Only to land at a fixed point. He brings up Pompeii. Another fixed point that Donna begged him to lessen, at least a little. And in running away from it, he's the one who makes it happen. Only this time, he doesn't have Donna to stop him when needed, to remember what's right, and he's terrified about what he could do. He tries to run. But he's the Doctor. He desperately wants to let himself be drawn into it, he wants to help, he wants to find out what's going on, he knows he shouldn't.
He's pulled in by Adelaide, "the woman with starlight in her soul." He falls a little in love with her, as he does with all his companions, and gets and stays more involved than he know he should. Indeed, he brings about the fixed point even when he does all he can to stop it, as the "Time Lord Victorious." He tells her about Action 5, he tells her about what her death inspires. Had he not, would she have shot herself at the end? Would she have set the base to explode before they left? And she, like all his companions, falls a little in love with the Doctor as well. Had she not, would she have been so horrified by the idea of the Time Lord Victorious? Would she have tried to stop him, as Donna would have?
And her conversation with Adelaide at the end was gut-wrenching, but perfect.
The Doctor: For a long time now, I thought I was just a survivor, but I'm not. I'm the winner. That's who I am. A Time Lord victorious.
Adelaide: And there's no one to stop you?
The Doctor: No.
Adelaide: This is wrong, Doctor! I don't care who you are! The Time Lord victorious is wrong!
The Doctor: That's for me to decide. Now, you'd better get home. Oh, it's all locked up. You've been away. Still, that's easy... All yours.
Adelaide: Is there nothing you can't do?
The Doctor: Not anymore.
This was a turning point. The Doctor was starting to believe himself a kind of god, not subject to any rules. He was the victor, there were spoils from the Last Great Time War! What a monster he could have become, given enough time with that mind-set.
And then Adelaide, after standing up to him and unsuccessfully stopping him, quietly went inside and brought him back to himself. He doesn't get to decide who is important, and who is not so important. He doesn't get to operate outside of any rules. He needs someone, but will always end up lonely and alone in the end.
Coming back to himself, he knows more of what he's capable of. He articulates it somewhat in Series 6, A Good Man Goes to War.
Doctor: Good men don't need rules. Today is not the day to find out why I have so many.
I love Adelaide, if only for reminding the Doctor of why he's the lonely god, trying to be more of a man, rather than striving towards more powerful god-hood. And I love the Doctor, for making people love him and want to be the best that they can be. And expose himself more clearly to himself.
A final thought. I think that in the fabric of time, a component of some of these fixed points specifically is supposed to include him bringing about said fixed points. As his TARDIS tells him in The Doctor's Wife, "I always took you where you needed to go."
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