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Occasionally I get time to read something other than
a scientific journal, book, or manuscript. On one such foray
I discovered Kenneth Brower's "Photography in the Age of
Falsification", which appeared in The Atlantic
Monthly in May 1998. Brower described how an editor, who might never
have experienced the wildness of nature, could conceive a
photograph and assign a photographer to create it. Whether
the scene depicted was actually possible often seemed
relatively unimportant. The main thing was whether the image
would interest viewers.
Brower argued that today's vast array of software for
manipulating digital versions of photographic images
enables what he calls "photofakery" on an unprecedented scale.
He described how editors at National
Geographic decided to pull an ad that depicted a polar bear in Antarctica (where
there are no bears); the ad had been created by digitally
superimposing a photograph of a bear in a Cincinnati zoo and a
photograph of the Lemaire Channel in Antarctica. According
to Brower, "Too few photographers, I think, appreciate how
directly the new technology aims at the heart of the
credibility that distinguishes this art form from others."
Credibility is also one of the hallmarks of science.
Science progresses as a result of consensus on what results
can be expected from carefully designed and carefully
executed experiments and observations. As teachers of chemistry,
we have a duty not to fall into the same kinds of traps that
have made some photographers uneasy about their profession.
And we need to help our students learn to avoid these traps.
But it is not that easy, because we also need to capture
students' attention and try to make our subject interesting by
telling stories or showing phenomena or models that appeal to
the imagination. As in the case of photography, defining
where imagination begins to usurp reality is difficult. It is
therefore a very important issue to wrestle with.
Part of Brower's argument against
manipulation of images centered on the photograph
reproduced here. In 1968, when it was taken by
Colonel William Anders of Apollo 8, it galvanized the public's
understanding of earth's limited resources by showing an
astronaut's view of the isolation and beauty of the earth in a barren
cosmos. Brower and others characterize it as "the most
important photograph in the history of environmental
awareness." The photograph is striking and has not been
"enhanced". Anders simply pointed the camera and tripped the
shutter, and the result was an excellent representation of what he
saw. It supported his description of his experience and helped
him to make it known to the vast majority of us who will
never make a trip to the moon.
Many of our students and most of
the general public are unlikely to penetrate very deeply into the
world of chemistry. They are often placed in a
position described eloquently by the Dalai Lama, who was
asked by a group of scientists whether he accepted the existence of
phenomena he had not experienced. He said, "I know the
earth to be a round, bluish globe by relying on the words of
someone who has seen it and proved it with photographs.
You have to rely on a person who has already had this kind
of experience and has no reason to tell lies." Having no
reason to tell lies certainly ought to characterize scientists and
those of us who teach the subject, as should Brower's quotation
of Rusty Schweickart, on one of the roles of astronauts:
"You are the sensing element for humanity, and that becomes
a rather special responsibility."
Indeed scientists and science educators do have a
special responsibility, both in discovering new science and
in relating the joy and importance of such discoveries to
many other people. In doing so, we should be very careful to
maintain the credibility without which communication of
science becomes impossible. This requires that we have standards
that we all agree to follow. As I watch television programs in
which there are seamless transitions from photographs or videos
of real things to artists' animated conceptions of things
that might be, I wonder whether our standards are
sufficiently high. The artists' conceptions are seldom labeled as what
they are. How is a viewer to tell the difference-especially if
that viewer has obtained most of his or her information
about science through this same vicarious medium?
This current situation argues strongly for
incorporation of real, hands-on involvement of students with
science throughout formal schooling. Concentrating on
observation and manipulation of materials is likely to be more
productive than introducing theories and nanoscale models. As
someone old enough to have gotten through elementary school
before there was a television set at home, I marvel at the vast
array of distractions that separate today's children from real
phenomena. Videos, computers, theme parks, the Internet,
and various other forms of entertainment are so prevalent that
we ought to think very carefully about what kinds of real
experiences students have had before they arrive in our classes.
It may be that laboratory instruction that expands students'
exposure to a range of real, tangible experiences and
observations is by far the most important aspect of our courses.
Certainly we should pay lots more attention to helping
students learn to distinguish observation from explanation, fact
from theory, and reality from mental model.
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