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Remembering Carl Sagan & his contributions to humanity
Just 40 years after a famous TIME magazine cover asked "Is God Dead?" the answer appears to be a resounding "No!" According to a survey by the Pew Forum on Religion & Public Life in a recent issue of Foreign Policy magazine, "God is Winning". Religions are increasingly a geopolitical force to be reckoned with. Fundamentalist movements - some violent in the extreme - are growing. Science and religion are at odds in the classrooms and courtrooms. And a return to religious values is widely touted as an antidote to the alleged decline in public morality. After two centuries, could this be twilight for the Enlightenment project and the beginning of a new age of unreason? Will faith and dogma trump rational inquiry, or will it be possible to reconcile religious and scientific worldviews? Can evolutionary biology, anthropology and neuroscience help us to better understand how we construct beliefs, and experience empathy, fear and awe? Can science help us create a new rational narrative as poetic and powerful as those that have traditionally sustained societies? Can we treat religion as a natural phenomenon? Can we be good without God? And if not God, then what?
This is a critical moment in the human situation, and The Science Network in association with the Crick-Jacobs Center brought together an extraordinary group of scientists and philosophers to explore answers to these questions. The conversation took place at the Salk Institute, La Jolla, CA from November 5-7, 2006.
When I was a young teen in 1980 there were three televisions in the house: One was in the small family room, and was typically shared by my parents. Another was in their bedroom - used primarily by my father to watch Kansas City Chiefs football games on crisp fall weekends. In my own inner sanctum - my bedroom, I had a little 13-inch GE black-and-white set, which I mostly used for watching PBS and Star Trek. It was on my little television that I learned about the coming premiere of Carl Sagan’s Cosmos.
Cosmos so intrigued me that I was motivated to leave the electronics and Lego and book-strewn confines of my own bedroom in search of a color television. I knew I needed to see stars and galaxies, nebulae and molecules in vivid color. I persuaded my parents to let me use their bedroom color television to watch the series, no small task given their dubious view of science-fiction, their abhorrence of evolution and general mystification regarding science. I eventually won the argument with assurances of the series’ educational value and reassurance of “non-sinful” content. Every week, I’d find myself plopped on my parents white king-sized comforter, propped-chin-in-hands, waiting for the next astonishing (my favorite Cosmos word) installment to propel my mind far from my pedestrian Ozarks home.
In medieval times, some people kept a human skull in their home to remind themselves of mortality, and to view their priorities against the big picture of life and death. A modern equivalent is the dinosaur fossil. The fossilized remains of a once great and dominant species reminds the human species of our eventual choice: survival or extinction, or as Sagan put it, “spaceflight or extinction”.It's a quick and interesting read and a great launch point for discussing our future in space. Thanks, Alex.
Thank you for a wonderful site.
I would be honored if you would watch, and possibly include, my recent video about Dr. Sagan. It is hosted at YouTube and Google video.
He had a knack for pinball, knowing just how hard to bump a machine without tilting it. We'd go to arcades together and he'd win bonus games like mad. Videogames were never his thing, though he could appreciate the better ones. I remember the day I showed him Computer Baseball, a strategy game for the Apple IIe. You could pit some of the greatest teams in MLB history against each other. We played Babe Ruth's 1927 Yankees against Jackie Robinson's 1955 Dodgers for about an hour, and then he turned to me and said, "Never show this to me again. I like it too much, and I don't want to lose time. Link.
I stupidly forgot to mention where the show is broadcast, it on London's Resonance 104.4FM, which as you have probably guessed, is broadcast on FM to the London area. Luckily though, its also broadcast worldwide at www.resonancefm.com.
Carl Sagan warmed the universe.
His cosmos was not cold and dark and impenetrable. He believed the universe was surely filled with life, intelligent life, innumerable civilizations unseen. In his younger, dreamier days, he thought advanced extraterrestrials might know how to cruise the galaxies in ramjets -- spaceships with massive openings that scoop up hydrogen atoms from interstellar dust clouds and use them for fuel. In Sagan's crowded cosmos, even empty space wasn't empty.
He told The Washington Post earlier this year: "Organic matter, the stuff of life, is absolutely everywhere. Comets are made one-quarter of organic matter. Many worlds in the outer solar system are coated with dark organic matter. On Titan, organic matter is falling from the skies like manna from Heaven. The cold diffuse interstellar gas is loaded with organic matter. There doesn't seem to be an impediment about the stuff of life."
The world needed Sagan, who died yesterday of pneumonia at the age of 62. We have needed Sagan ever since Copernicus removed us from the center of the universe. It is a perplexing fact of human life that we live on a rock that orbits an ordinary star on the outskirts of an ordinary galaxy in a universe that is indescribably large. Sagan knew how to describe it, to convey our humble position without demeaning us. With Sagan we felt in the right place.
Sagan said, "Everybody starts out as a scientist." Every child has the scientist's sense of wonder and awe. Too often we beat it out of the kid. "The job of a science popularizer," Sagan said, "is to penetrate through the teachings that tell people they're too stupid to understand science."
A persistent theme in his work was one practically guaranteed to capture public interest: the possibility that life exists elsewhere in the universe. He became an expert on the subject at a time when it was considered highly speculative, and prodded other scientists to consider it seriously. Civilized life must be common in the universe, he said, because stars are so abundant and the Sun is a fairly typical star.
Dr. Sagan (pronounced SAY-gun) was probably best known as the host of ''Cosmos,'' a 13-part series on public television in 1980 that explored everything from the world of the atom to the vastness of the universe, and showed him looking awestruck as he contemplated the heavens. With an audience of 400 million people in 60 countries, it was considered the most widely viewed short-term public television series in history until it was eclipsed in 1990 by a series on the Civil War.
He received critical acclaim as well as substantial financial awards for the series, which made him an international celebrity. The book he wrote to accompany it, also called ''Cosmos,'' was on the best-seller list for more than a year, and a company he formed, Carl Sagan Productions, promoted such things as ''The Music of the Cosmos'' with RCA Records.
Dr. Sagan was also familiar to television viewers from 26 appearances in the 1970's and 80's on ''The Tonight Show'' with Johnny Carson, who was known to don a black wig and perform a Sagan impersonation. He and other comics delighted in parodying Dr. Sagan's references to ''billions and billions'' of stars in the universe.
In an interview in 1977, Dr. Sagan said he turned down several hundred requests to give lectures every year but always tried to accept invitations to appear on ''The Tonight Show.''
''The show has an audience of 10 million people,'' he said. ''That's an awful lot of people, and those aren't people who subscribe to Scientific American.''
Defending his activities in popularizing science, Dr. Sagan said in another interview: ''There are at least two reasons why scientists have an obligation to explain what science is all about. One is naked self-interest. Much of the funding for science comes from the public, and the public has a right to know how their money is being spent. If we scientists increase the public excitement about science, there is a good chance of having more public supporters. The other is that it's tremendously exciting to communicate your own excitement to others.''
While his leap from the scientific ivory tower into the television studio may have irritated some of his colleagues, there can be no doubt that Dr. Sagan was a serious and productive scientist.
I remember liking him and finding his stuff cool. But it was later in life, in my late twenties, in fact, that I fell hard for the guy. I’m not sure if it was The Demon Haunted World or The Dragons of Eden that hooked me. But I do know that it had something to do with his rigorous devotion to truth and his improbable optimism about human nature.Please read the whole entry here.
There is no way for me to think about Carl Sagan without thinking of my father. My dad, he of the constant impersonations, loved to impersonate Carl Sagan. Particularly the way he used to say "billions and billions" and "star stuff". As kids, we found this very amusing and so we bought my dad the book, Cosmos. I remember spending a summer vacation entranced with the book. Both of these men sparked in me a love and respect for science and impressed on me of the importance of independent and critical thinking.Please check out the rest of her post at Mostly Dogs.
There is much to ponder from what he has left us - and perhaps most important is how precious our lives and our planet is. Though no longer with us on this Pale Blue Dot, Carl Sagan’s legacy will forever live on in the hearts and minds of those who love and cherish knowledge.
If anything, it was Cosmos which permanently ensconced Carl as a major part of 20th Century Pop culture, as it gave Astronomy - and Science in general, for that matter - it's first high-tech embellishing. For thirteen episodes, Carl produced what has been argued as the first "ratings hit" PBS had aired that wasn't something like Sesame Street. He aimed not so much for adults as the target audience, but simply for those with intelligence and the will to expand the bounds of their knowledge and imagination. His catchphrase of "Billions and Billions"(*), combined with his uniquely nasal Brooklyn accent, became so ingrained in American culture to have the same instant recognition status as E=MC2,Chech out the whole OM thing, here.
Or, to put it a bit more directly, Carl made science "sexy".
By an astounding coincidence — divine intervention? — Carl Sagan's Cosmos debuted on public television exactly one week after my 16th birthday. The series turned out to be a 13-hour, carefully reasoned, gorgeously dramatized argument. The claim this long argument sought to establish precisely addressed the very question with which I'd been grappling.
Cosmos argues that the universe is profoundly beautiful, meaningful, and demands an ethical response, even when it's explained without The Divine. Sagan argued that, faced with the revelations of 20th century science and the dangers of 20th century technology, the only ethical response is to see the world as it is and not how we wish it were.
He was a student here at Chicago; he was, as the picture indicates, president of the University of Chicago Astronomical Society (now known as the Ryerson Astronomical Society). After his short stay in the college he went to the Astronomy department and left a Ph.D.
I often wonder what the dismal atmosphere of a coal-smoked Chicago was like for astronomy in the early fifties--and whether the old cranky telescope (fifty-two years old then, in 1952) did anything to inspire future thoughts. His logs are short, and there never seemed to be much observing or possibility of observing. See here for a scan of a sample logbook page. Or here for the entire text of the 1952-1964 logbook.
As a young child I wasn’t encouraged to watch too much television, but “Cosmos” was one exception to the weeknight homework rule. One night a week my brother and I sat together on a couch in Rhode Island to marvel at the possibilities of outer space as presented by a certain turtlenecked professor. If the universe was as big as he imagined, then surely life existed in other places and it was merely a matter of time before we connected with that life. In years when my daydreams ran wildly with the childhood pictures of nuclear winter and nightmares of being the Only One Left, Sagan’s fears were the same… but his questions, worded as only he could pronounce them, sparked in me thoughts of friendly Others, shared technology that would lead to a cure for cancer, and cosmic peace summits and universal treaties.
He made science fun and accessible, his enthusiasm was contagious, he was cool. Around that time (1979?) I wrote a journal entry proclaiming that I would go to Cornell and study with Sagan and plan a Mars mission. Well, I’d realize only a teency bit of that dream… but wouldn’t you know Sagan’s own student Steve Squyres WOULD lead the mission to Mars.
You knew he felt it too: the hairs-stand-up-on-your-neck wonder of the night sky, of thinking of the (yes,) billions of stars, of the worlds to be discovered. Of knowing that we were part of something bigger. Of being made of starstuff.
When I was at university, we had a Space party: everyone dressed up as aliens, Princess Leia, wookies, you name it. My brother beat us all, wearing a blazer and a smart fawn turtleneck. He came as Carl Sagan.
Michael Honey, AustraliaGenerally speaking, I'm pretty opposed to marking a death anniversary. This is something that came about as I worked at a tattoo shop and people ritualistically attempted to immortalize a loved one by having either their death date or an image of death (i.e., an angel) marked into their skin for all their conscious eternity. I spent years around this well-meaning but misguided tradition, so I feel qualified to criticize it...Please read the rest at The Bean Mines.
Right now I am looking down at my arm, which is completely sleeved in a random science-fiction/space theme, and which I started about ten years ago. I'd be lying if I didn't say that I felt Carl Sagan was somewhat responsible for my having these tattoos. Are they a memorial tattoo? No, and yes a little.
When my dad told me that Carl Sagan had finally passed away after two years of fighting a painful disease, I quietly lost it. Like people worldwide I felt he'd spoken to me -- he had been a voice, both literal and metaphorical, of the cosmos, a champion for the utterly ignored and completely spectacular universe around us. I have clear memories of being hunkered up to the television absorbing the concepts of the Doppler effect without even trying to. I opened up my tiny, spongy and nearly blank brain to him to fill, and with grace and wit he complied.
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Celebrating Sagan is a not for profit blog working to build a living memorial to remember the life of Dr. Carl Sagan.