David Suzuki

by David Suzuki

  chapter SIXTEEN

  REFLECTIONS ON SCIENCE AND TECHNOLOGY

  TODAY THE MOST powerful force affecting our lives is not politics, business, celebrity, or sports, despite the coverage they receive in the media. By far the greatest factor shaping the world is science as applied by industry, medicine, and the military. We can't go anywhere on the planet without using the products or encountering the debris of science and technology. When I tell children there were no televisions or computers when I was their age, they find it hard to believe and often ask me, “What did you do?” because they can't imagine what one did in such an ancient and bereft civilization.

  Each innovation changes the way we do things and renders the old ways obsolete. Looming are even more fantastic technologies, from intelligent machines to cloning, nanotechnology, stem cell regeneration, space travel, and much more. There will also be enormous problems in addition to the ones that already beset us, like global warming, toxic pollution, species extinction, overpopulation, alienation, and drug abuse. Without a basic knowledge of scientific terms and concepts and an understanding of how science differs from other ways of knowing, I don't believe we can find real solutions to such issues. Scientists and educators alike have failed to ensure that scientific literacy is as much a part of what is considered a core value as mathematics, reading, and writing. The consequences of scientific illiteracy among the general public are not trivial.

  In the fall of 1987, I was part of a group that examined the degree to which our elected representatives comprehend science. Looking at the thirty-eight Cabinet ministers of the Canadian federal government, we found that of the thirty-two who could be assigned a profession outside politics, twelve were from business, ten from law, three from farming, and two from engineering. Thus, almost 70 percent of those thirty-two were from business or law, perhaps explaining why governments are so preoccupied with economic and jurisdictional issues. Why such a disproportionate representation from those two areas? I think it's because more of the practitioners in these fields can afford or are funded well enough to run for office and risk the enormous costs if they lose.

  In a related study in 1987, fifty members of Parliament were administered a very simple test of their comprehension of scientific terms and concepts. Those with backgrounds in business and law scored absolutely rock-bottom. Yet these people will have to make informed decisions about climate change, alternative sources of energy, farmed versus wild salmon, intelligent machines, space research, space missile defence shields, biotechnology, stem cells, cloning, and other issues that require at least a basic grounding in science. No amount of simplification by technical staff will overcome the barrier of scientific illiteracy.

  So decisions will end up being made for political reasons. How scientifically literate do we believe U.S. president George W. Bush is apropos of space-based missile defenses, teaching of intelligent design in science courses, foreign aid for HIV/AIDS, or responses to avian flu? Do we believe Australian prime minister John Howard understands the science behind global warming as he opposes the Kyoto Protocol?

  Given the degree of scientific illiteracy among politicians, it's not surprising that we can't reach informed, rational decisions on these issues. I have spent a lot of time trying to bring new ministers up to speed when they are appointed, but they get moved around, and we have to start from scratch when a new person is put in the job. Only when scientific literacy is a central part of our education and culture will we have the possibility of a government that can make fully informed political decisions.

  IN THE EARLY HISTORY of the human species, the invention of a spear, bow and arrow, needle, pottery vessel, metal implement, and domestication of plants and animals ushered in monumental changes that often reverberated for centuries and transformed individual lives and social arrangements, rendering the old ways extinct. Today multiple technological changes occur at an ever-accelerating rate, thereby ensuring that the world I knew as a boy is no more.

  In my childhood, I wasn't permitted to go to movies at all or public swimming pools in the summer because my parents worried that I might catch polio, a viral disease the Sabin and Salk vaccines later pushed into obscurity. Each year around the world, hundreds of thousands of people suffered agonizing deaths or horrible scars from the now-eradicated disease of smallpox. The world I grew up in lacked jet planes, oral contraceptives, heart transplants, transoceanic phone calls, CDs, VCRs, plastics, photocopying machines, genetic engineering, and so much more.

  Not only does each innovation alter the way we do things, many may change the very definition of what it is to be human. We love technology because we design it to do specific things for us, but we seldom reflect on the consequences or have any inkling of what the long-term repercussions might be. Thus, we discovered biomagnification of pesticides, the effects of chlorofluorocarbons (CFCS) on the ozone layer, and radioactive fallout from nuclear weapons only after the technologies had been created and used. Consider the impact of the automobile: it liberated us from being local creatures, killed tens of millions of us, facilitated urban sprawl, caused massive loss of land under roads, created global pollution, and accelerated the depletion of resources. Television has had a corrosive effect on communities and social mores and has led to commercials and consumerism and the general dumbing down of issues and thought processes. Technology has huge costs.

  Starting out as a fruit fly geneticist at UBC, when doing good basic science was all that was required to receive a grant. (Don't be fooled by the lab coat, which I seldom wore.)

  When I began my career as a scientist, we took pride in exploring basic ideas of the structure of matter, the origin of the cosmos, or the structure and function of genes without having to justify the expansion of human knowledge. Medical genetics was considered intellectually inferior to the kind of work we carried out with fruit flies.

  In 1972, a special Canadian Senate committee under Maurice Lamontagne had examined the role science plays in society and concluded there was a need to tie research more directly to society's needs. “Mission-oriented” work was to be encouraged, presaging the enormous pressure that would be put on scientists to make their work economically useful. Scientists are led, by necessity, by the priorities underlying the granting procedure. If good basic science is all that is required to receive a grant, then scientists will be much more honest about what they are doing. But when there is pressure to find a cure for cancer, for example, then scientists engage in a game that ultimately undermines science by creating a false impression of what science is.

  Why do we support science? Former Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau seemed to feel science is a frill we support when times are good. I couldn't disagree more. We support science because it is a part of what it means to be civilized, pushing back the curtains of ignorance by revealing bits and pieces of nature's secrets. But more and more, we are under a demand that science deliver practical uses. This is a dangerous requirement, because it imposes an urgency that can lead to shortcuts, unwarranted claims, and deception.

  Canadian scientists make up a very small proportion of the total number of scientists around the world. Our total grant money is minuscule compared with the U.S. total, and globally, it is even less. If we assume the quality of science is about the same everywhere, then on average perhaps 2 percent of important discoveries will be made in Canada. Thus, the probability that some fundamental “breakthrough” (how I hate that misused and overused word) will be made here is very small, and one might suppose that Trudeau was right—we should simply parasitize the world's literature and focus on rapid capitalization of new ideas.

  But that is not how science works or how it leads to applications. The really exciting creative moments are in conversation with leading scientists at conferences and on visits, or in closed meetings where a handful of the elite in a field gather to bat around ideas that are still in the embryonic phase and not available in publications. Such meetings are exciting, creative, and exclusive, open o
nly to the top people. That's why we support the members of our small but top-notch Canadian scientific community—they are the price of a front-row seat at the action. Without them, we aren't plugged in to the cutting-edge work going on around the world.

  Canada's granting process was an outmoded system that worked when there wasn't a lot of pressure and the community was small. I sat on one of the granting panels that chose which applicants would be funded and was surprised at how much political considerations entered into the final awards. We scientists on the grant panel spent a lot of time assessing and rating the applications on their scientific merits as best we could and then allocating the funds. But our decisions were only recommendations, which we submitted to the National Research Council. When the final decisions were announced, it was obvious that additions and deletions had been made to our recommendations according to geographic distribution and whether an institution seemed to have a disproportionate amount or was shut out of any support. It was a ridiculous way to give out money. Our policy seemed to be: pee over a broad expanse of ground and hope plants will sprout up everywhere. But if our bladder is small, we should at least direct the fertilizer to where the seeds are, not sprinkle it around.

  When I was still active in research, Canadian granting agencies didn't seem to have the courage to identify the outstanding scientists and provide them with as much money as possible while turning down the rest. Today, much larger sums of research money are allocated and the rejection rate is much higher, but when I had a lab most applicants got grants at very low levels of support. We should focus on new, young scientists, because at the start of their careers, they are ambitious and have the energy to work hard. They are the ones who should be given substantial funding with few formal demands other than following wherever their interests lead for three or four years. At that point, they will have a body of work that can be evaluated for originality, quality, and quantity. From then on, those who have done promising work can be supported very well. We don't create excellence by funding institutions or infrastructure—it is individuals to whom we should pay attention and provide support.

  Science has never been considered an important part of Canadian culture or celebrated in the way we celebrate the arts. Wisely, the Science Council of Canada was established as a Crown corporation, supposedly with an arm's length relationship with government. I say “supposedly” because when Stuart Smith, who was leader of the Liberal party of Ontario, became head of the Science Council, he had a difficult time reappointing me to the board for a second term because of a B.C. senator who opposed it. Nevertheless, in a time when the most powerful effect on our lives and our society is science, we need a body to look at the implications and provide counsel to guide us into the future. In 1993, Prime Minister Brian Mulroney abolished the Science Council (along with the Economics Council), thereby ensuring that we would move into the future with greater uncertainty and make decisions for political reasons, ignoring science-based assessments of the issues.

  the former host of CBC Radio's Morningside, Peter Gzowski, richly deserved the adulation expressed upon his untimely death in 2002. Gzowski was quintessentially Canadian. I cannot imagine him or someone like him with his stuttering, humble, low-key way making it as a star in London or New York. But in Canada, he touched a deep chord.

  He interviewed me a number of times on Morningside, and I had also appeared several times on his painful venture into television, 0 Minutes Live. There was much resentment within the Nature of Things unit about the money lavished on Gzowski's television program, but I loved the idea of a nightly showcase for Canadian talent. It's unfortunate that what worked so well on radio was a disaster on television. Gzowski felt I was a strong contributor, and he wanted me to appear as a regular on the show. I was flattered, but I didn't want to simply be a reporter on the “Golly, gee whiz, what will they think of next?” or “Isn't that scary?” aspect of science, so I declined.

  One of the high points of my appearances on 0 Minutes Live was the night I appeared with Kurt Vonnegut Jr., and Timothy Leary. Vonnegut and I got on famously, and we were both appalled at Leary, who was in his phase of pushing SMIILE, which stood for Space Migration, Intelligence Increase, Life Extension, the kind of techno-optimism that makes my teeth ache. It was great television, and the sparks were flying between the three of us when Peter broke in for a commercial. When the break was over, we were cut off, and he went on with the next act, which was a man with a bullwhip knocking cigarettes out of his son's mouth.

  Much later I spoke with Alex Frame, the executive producer of 0 Minutes Live, and he admitted it had been a mistake to stay so wedded to the prearranged schedule rather than let the energy of Leary, Vonnegut, and Suzuki carry on. The next day, Tara and I went out for breakfast with Vonnegut, who was charming and insisted on taking us to a bookstore to get one of his books. The salesperson did a double take when he recognized Vonnegut and could do nothing but stare when Vonnegut asked where his own books were. Eventually Vonnegut found the book he wanted and signed it, and it is one of our treasured possessions.

  I appeared sporadically on Morningside. Peter was laid-back, but I was always wary, expecting some nasty question to come at me. It never did. He was a very generous interviewer, asking a question and then letting me have my say rather than cutting me off to shape the interview the way he wanted, as so many hosts do today. But if he was genuinely interested in what I said, I couldn't understand why he didn't go on to espouse environmental causes. I have always been surprised that hosts of programs may report on frightening or urgent stories, yet when the show is over, they move on to the next issue. It was one of the problems Jim Murray, my boss and best friend at The Nature of Things, had with me. Because of a program we did, say, on the Cree in Quebec, the Kaiapo in the Amazon, or the Haida in Haida Gwaii, I couldn't help but stay engaged with them. So when the program had been broadcast, I'd still be working away with them, whereas Jim felt I should move on and concentrate on the next show, which was a perfectly reasonable position from the standpoint of the series.

  Writing about himself in 2001, Gzowski admitted in A Peter Gzowski Reader that he

  had a pretty full life. On radio or television or with pencil in hand, I've got to meet the Queen, eight prime ministers (nine if you count Margaret Thatcher . . .), four governors-general, two chief justices, two Nobel Prize winners, the world yodeling, whistling and bagpipe champions (all Canadians) and every winner and most of the runners up of the Giller Prize for Literature.

  Gzowski was clearly proud of having interviewed so many important people—and he should have been. The range of people he had met and interviewed in a career spanning almost twenty years, for three hours a day, five days a week, must be mind-boggling. I always marveled at the sheer stamina and concentration needed for such a prodigious effort.

  Jim Fulton and me presenting Prime Minister Paul Martin with our document “Sustainability Within A Generation” in 2004

  But it's the list Gzowski chose to write down that interests me. All those prime ministers and the Queen and Giller Prize candidates and winners, yet a measly two Nobel Prize winners. I was surprised he even bothered to mention them, and he failed to indicate whether they were scientists, writers, economists, or peace workers. Lester Pearson, prime minister of Canada from 1963 to 1968, was the recipient of a Nobel Peace Prize in 1957, but there have been four other Nobel Prize winners in science who continued to stay in Canada—Frederick Banting, Gerhard Herzberg, John Polanyi, Mike Smith—and I interviewed three of them (Banting had died in 1941). There are usually about ten to twelve winners of the prestigious awards in three science categories every year. I was the host of Quirks and Quarks for four years, and during that time I interviewed at least twenty Nobel Prize winners. A huge divide remains between scientists and the rest of society, and the paucity of scientist Nobelists on Gzowski's list reflects it. How can we as a society assess the potential impact of so many issues in which science and technology play major roles in both th
eir creation and solution if we ignore them?

  Nothing illustrates the consequences of scientific illiteracy better than the situation in the United States. President George W. Bush received an education at Yale University, one of the top institutions in the world, and rose to head the wealthiest and most powerful nation in history. Yet the country founded on a separation of church and state has seen the intrusion of a Christian fundamentalism into the very center of power. One shocking consequence is the debate about evolution, which has flared into a national movement, putting enormous pressure on teachers and educational institutions to relegate evolution to a theory that must compete with the biblical version of Creation. Once called “scientific creationism,” this literal interpretation of the Bible has been modernized into Intelligent Design, with all the trappings and jargon of molecular biology. The fact that it continues to be considered a serious scientific alternative to evolution is a disgrace. Evolution is as real as the existence of an atom, DNA, or a black hole; we see it everywhere, not only in living systems, but in the geology of Earth and the dynamic universe. The mechanisms and processes of evolution are far from understood, but the fact of its occurrence is not. Scientists have failed to inculcate an understanding of what lies within the scientific realm and where religion intrudes without justification.

  But President Bush's kind of faith in science and technology also enabled him to push an agenda of space travel to Mars within a decade or two. I have visited the Houston Space Center many times to film and have shot the mock-ups for the Mars trip. They are unbelievably crude, and I don't believe for a minute that getting to Mars and back will be possible within my children's lifetime, if ever; nor is the cost of trying worth it. It is a political gimmick, a proposal Bush will not have to be accountable for, merely a bauble offered to the electorate if it demonstrates leadership and vision.