And Martians Shall Save the University
Why do we need the liberal arts? Because it gives us sci-fi
by _Judith Shulevitz_ (http://www.newrepublic.com/authors/judith-shulevitz) 
 | July 9, 2013

 
The liberal arts are very old and very  distinguished, and those who teach 
them are among the bitterest people I know.  University presidents, 
trustees, and state legislatures are slashing their  funding or getting rid of 
their 
subjects altogether. (French, German, Italian,  and the classics will 
likely be the first to go.) Governor Rick Scott of Florida  _thinks_ 
(http://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/10/education/florida-may-reduce-tuition-for-select-majors
.html?pagewanted=all)  that state universities  should charge higher 
tuition to students who choose majors in fields that don’t  lead directly to 
jobs. 
Even the social sciences are endangered: Republicans in  Congress have been 
_trying to pass_ 
(http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/03/21/tom-coburn-national-science-foundation_n_2921081.html)
  an amendment  to an appropriations 
bill that would forbid the National Science Foundation from  funding any 
research in the human sciences not considered essential for  America’s security 
or economic interests. Meanwhile, in their pristine new  laboratories, the 
natural sciences thrive. “Spending for the  humanities research in 2011 
amounted to less than half of one percent of the  amount dedicated to science 
and 
engineering research and development in the  United States,” English 
professor Homi Bhabha said at a gloomy conference on the  future of the 
humanities 
at Harvard this April. 
How does one make the “clear and compelling case  for the liberal arts?” 
asked an alarmed _report_ (http://humanitiescommission.org/)  _submitted_ 
(http://www.insidehighered.com/news/2013/06/19/new-academy-arts-and-sciences-rep
ort-stresses-importance-humanities-and-social)  to Congress a couple  weeks 
ago. It’s not hard. The most popular case, at the moment, is the  
preservationist one: The job of the humanities is “understanding, curating, and 
 
transmitting the first four thousand five hundred years of human 
consciousness,” 
as Columbia Sanskrit professor Sheldon Pollock put it at  the Harvard 
gathering. Cultivating political character is another defense. The  liberal 
arts 
education is said to give future citizens the historical  perspective and 
ethical bent required to uphold democracy and avert  totalitarianism. Then 
there’s the answer that flips the question on its head:  The humanities are 
good for questioning whether knowledge has to be good for  anything. 
Personally, I find all of these arguments “clear and compelling,” but I worry 
that 
budget-conscious politicians and the heads  of cash-starved institutions won’
t. If the criterion for funding areas of study  must be that they add to 
American wealth and competitiveness, then I’d like to  offer my own only 
half-unserious case for the liberal arts. I propose that  they should survive, 
and 
thrive, because they give us science fiction,  and science fiction creates 
jobs and makes us rich. 
Take any world-altering feat of engineering  from the past century or so 
and science fiction probably dreamed it up first. Smithsonian Magazine 
recently _published a list_ 
(http://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/Ten-Inventions-Inspired-by-Science-Fiction.html)
  of ten  such inventions. There’s 
the submarine, one of whose most important architects  was inspired by Jules 
Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues  Under the Sea. (He received a congratulatory 
letter from Verne after  he built the first vessel to operate successfully 
in open seas.) There’s the  modern helicopter, also inspired by a Verne 
novel (Clipper of the Clouds). The liquid-fueled rocket,  invented by a man 
whose passion for interplanetary travel came from reading H.  G. Wells’s The 
War 
of the Worlds as a  child. The nuclear chain reaction underlying atomic 
power, first envisioned in  Wells’s The World Set Free. The cell phone,  
modeled on the flip-top communicator used in Star  Trek. And the inventor of 
_Second  Life_ (http://secondlife.com/)  has said that, although he’d been 
thinking about virtual  worlds for years, Neal Stephenson’s 1992 novel, Snow  
Crash, showed him what they might look like.  


Illustration by Joe Wilson
THE DISCREPANCY IN DOLLARS


The Smithsonian list left out a few other key collaborations  between the 
literary and scientific imaginations._1_ 
(http://www.newrepublic.com/node/113670/print#footnote-1)  The most famous one 
is cyberspace, a term coined by 
William Gibson and  fleshed out in his cyberpunk novel Neuromancer, which  
quickly expanded until it became virtually synonymous with the Internet. (The  
prescient Gibson also foresaw the rise of reality television.) Real 
computer  networks weren’t preceded by fictional ones, exactly—they were first 
suggested  in an obscure 1963 memo describing an “Intergalactic Computer Network
”—but they  were given form by Ursula Le Guin, whose 1966 Rocannon’s  
World introduced the “ansible,” a box-shaped instantaneous intergalactic  
communications device. Ansibles caught on, and other authors put them into 
their  
own stories, including Orson Scott Card in Ender’s Game (1985). That novel 
arguably  also anticipated the use of computer games to teach, evaluate, and 
maybe  manipulate students. Card’s eerie “mind game,” played by child 
cadets as part of  their training at a grim “Battle School,” was designed both 
to grade their  ability to think strategically and to sharpen their wits, 
although some students  were pretty sure it was also meant to spy on and 
control them. 
“There is no science without fancy and no art  without fact,” said 
Vladimir Nabokov, who was also a scientist (a self-taught  butterfly expert and 
curator of lepidoptera at Harvard’s zoology museum whose  theories about the 
evolutionary history of a particular species of butterfly,  once dismissed by 
better-credentialed colleagues, were recently vindicated by  geneticists). 
Obviously, advances in science and technology take more than  fancy. 
Constrained by the possible, scientists must work with heroic  determination 
and 
settle for tiny steps forward amid the endless steps back. The  novelist, on 
the other hand, may leap boldly into the future without regard for  fact. But 
a great many science-fiction writers voluntarily hew to the laws of  
science, even while pushing them to their limits; it’s fantasy writers who use  
magic, and even then, their magic has rules. And all science fiction, if it’s  
any good, has to be plausible, if not in the sense that it might be true, 
then  in the sense that it must feel true. Whether that happens  has a lot to 
do with whether the writer can bring the characters to life, of  course, but 
in science fiction, more perhaps than in other literary genres,  suspension 
of disbelief depends on the quality of the author’s “world-building,”  as 
sci-fi aficionados call it. 
  
 
Illustration by Joe Wilson
WHAT THE FEDS FUND AT UNIVERSITIES


Consider how carefully Isaac Asimov must  have read Gibbon’s Decline and 
Fall of the Roman Empire to fabricate the  galactic civilization in his 
Foundation series, or how much history and  sociology (along with math) went 
into 
his made-up discipline, “psychohistory,” which predicted the future by  
statistically analyzing the behavior of large populations. (Psychologist 
_Martin Seligman_ (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martin_Seligman)  has said  
that 
Asimov’s psychohistory inspired him to come up with a new method of  
forecasting elections.) Constructing a viable fictional world, human or alien,  
takes more tools than they give you in games like _Settlers of Catan_ 
(http://www.catan.com/) . It  requires a working knowledge of—to give the short 
list—
cartography, geography,  cultural anthropology, linguistics, law, history, 
religion, and, of course,  mythology. Political and moral philosophy come 
into play, too, because many of  the great works of science fiction explore and 
amplify the social and moral  consequences of technological innovation. 
“The beauty of science is expressed in a totally  different way from the 
beauty of traditional literature,” writes the Chinese  science-fiction 
novelist Liu Cixin. But “the beauty of science is locked within  cold 
formulas.” 
Sci-fi builds “a bridge to this beauty, freeing it from formulas  and 
displaying it for all to see.” Science fiction—and all the non-scientific or  
social-scientific branches of knowledge that go into its composition—gives us  
the stories we need to understand a world increasingly dominated by technical 
 processes too hermetic and complex for most people to question. And these  
stories give science a way to move forward. That, Governor Scott, is why we 
need  liberal arts majors.

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