Societies are increasingly dependent on advanced technology; science pervades our lives more than ever. But the glad optimism about science has faded. In many quarters, observers view the impact of new breakthroughs with more ambivalence than excitement. Since [C P] Snow’s time, our ‘marvellous’ new technologies have created fresh hazards and raised new ethical quandaries. Many commentators are anxious that science is getting out of hand, such that neither politicians nor the public can assimilate or cope with it. The stakes are higher now too: science offers huge opportunities, but future generations will be vulnerable to risks – nuclear, genetic, algorithmic – powerful enough to jeopardise the very survival of our civilisation.
In a later publication based on his original lecture, Snow suggested that there was a ‘third culture’, one embracing the social sciences. Today it might be truer to say that the very idea of ‘culture’ has many interweaving strands. Nonetheless, intellectual narrowness and ignorance remain endemic, and science is a closed book to a worrying number of people in politics and the media. But just as many people are ignorant of the history and literature of their own nation. Scientists don’t have a special reason to moan; in fact, it’s really quite remarkable how many people are interested in subjects as blazingly irrelevant to practical life as dinosaurs, the Higgs boson and cosmology. There is a surprising and gratifying interest in fundamental big questions – such as the origins of consciousness, of life, and of the cosmos itself.
Today, it’s a real intellectual deprivation to be blind to the marvellous vision offered by Darwinism and by modern cosmology – the chain of emergent complexity leading from a ‘big bang’ to stars, planets, biospheres, and human brains able to ponder the wonder and the mystery of it all. Concepts such as these should be part of the public conversation. So too should some conception of the natural environment and the principles that govern the biosphere and climate. Science is the one culture that all humans can share: protons, proteins and Pythagoras’ theorem are the same the world over.
[...] A theme of Snow’s lecture was that scholars in the humanities failed to appreciate the creativity and imagination that the practice of science involves. But it can’t be denied that there are differences in what those things mean for the artist, as opposed to the scientist. An artist’s work might be individual and distinctive, but it generally doesn’t last. On the other hand, even a journeyman scientist should be able to add a few durable bricks to the corpus of ‘public knowledge’, even if our contributions as scientists will probably lose their identity. If A didn’t discover something, in general B soon would; indeed, there are many cases of near-simultaneous discovery. Einstein made a more distinctive imprint on 20th-century science than any other individual – but, had he never existed, all his insights would have been revealed by now, though probably by several people rather than by one great mind. Any scientist is ‘replaceable’, in a way that an individual artist is not.