There's a fight brewing.
Like most undeclared conflicts, the exact causes are unknown, but tensions have been apparent for years. I've encountered it myself, even among my dearest friends and acquaintances. I recall one particular conversation as if it occurred yesterday.
'English major?' an associate asked incredulously, after discovering my field of study.
'Yes,' I answered, in my naïveté. 'I love it. It's what I've always wanted to do. What's yours?'
'Biological sciences,' they retorted, with an apparent air of superiority. 'We do real work.'
The person walked away shortly after that remark. I was speechless but not surprised.
It is a sad fact that we live in a world where it is proclaimed that English majors hate science, scientists scorn English and a marriage between the two is a laughable impossibility. English majors regard themselves as being too optimistic for science, while scientists consider their vast experience with exams and labs – not to mention their almost guaranteed avenues for employment at graduation – to be a cause for superiority.
I ask: Why?
For the longest time I thought of myself as one of those English majors who loathed, or rather feared, the sciences. I found the fun facts to be lovely and endearing, but the formulas and lab exercises found me consistently overwhelmed. But then I remembered something.
One of my earliest memories is of my mother and me at the zoo. It doesn't matter which one it was, but we were looking at a magnificent bald eagle. I had read one of my many animal books that day and had asked her why there were no eagles where we lived.
'But Mommy, it says so here that this is where they live!' I said, pointing to the map on that page, which clearly stated we were in their range.
My mother knelt down to my height with a smile that told me she knew.
'Well honey, a couple of years ago, farmers around here used this chemical called DDT to kill mosquitoes on their crops,' she said. 'While it did work at first, when it rained, the chemicals washed into the rivers where it was absorbed by the fish. The eagles then ate the fish and it made them sick so they couldn't lay more eggs.'
I was shocked. I was enthralled. I was amazed. I was five. It was to be one of the moments that shaped my life.
My mom continued.
'It wasn't until this biologist Rachel Carson wrote this book Silent Spring that everyone realized what was going on and DDT was banned,' she said. 'It's what gave the eagle the opportunity to rebuild its population.'
For some unknown reason, I never forgot that conversation. My appreciation and respect for nature remained even as my love of literature grew. And now, after one nearly completed English degree, a science requirement and many torturous high school science classes, I find that not only has my love for nature, science and animals returned, but also it never really left.
When you look at it my way, you'll realize this: there is no real reason for a feud between English majors and science majors. The best scientists are avid readers and have to be good writers. The best writers have a special regard for the sciences. The DDT biologist, Rachel Carson, and bestselling author and contemporary scientist Natalie Angier were both English majors before they made the switch. Anton Chekov, one of the greatest short story writers of all time, made his living as a medical doctor – a polar opposite of the literary professions.
The way I see it, English majors report on the world around them, while scientists report on the inner components that make up that world. We are like distant cousins working toward a similar goal, which I hope is the continued survival of the best of humanity. We're all working toward humanity's ideas, its goals, its accomplishments, its achievements, its successes and failures, its tragedies and joys, all the while moving toward a brighter future for us all.
And that, my friends, is work anyone should be proud of doing.
E-mail: shane.fallon@ubspectrum.com
