The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark

“The lure of the marvelous blunts our critical faculties.”

An indication of Sagan’s humanistic approach to skepticism. He does not disparage others of their beliefs in marvelous happenings or beings, but simply suggests that goggling at such marvels prevents skeptical practice. Throughout the work, this empathetic view recurs often, with Sagan gently reminding us that it is entirely reasonable that humans take refuge in wonder, and also understandable that they may not want to practice critical thinking to combat their self-delusion.

“It slowly dawned on me that, human fallibility being what it is, there might be other explanations for flying saucers.”

Sagan’s enacts here his later suggestion that narratives about science should document the floundering path toward the truth in scientist’s lives. Showing his own coming to terms with the nonexistence of extraterrestrial UFOs prevents Sagan from sounding imperious and condescending, humanizing his process and his argument as something reasoned over time.

“There’s no doubt that humans commonly hallucinate. There’s considerable doubt about whether extraterrestrials exist, frequent our planet, or abduct and molest us. We might argue about the details, but the one category of explanation is surely much better supported than the other.”

Sagan’s teaching method is subtle here. He presents his conclusions on the subject of alien visitations in terms of Occam’s razor, introducing a part of his toolkit to which he will return later.

“Perhaps when everyone knows that gods come down to Earth, we hallucinate gods; when all of us are familiar with demons, it’s incubi and succubi; when fairies are widely accepted, we see fairies; in an age of spiritualism, we encounter spirits; and when the old myths fade and we begin thinking that extraterrestrial being are plausible, then that’s where our hypnogogic imagery tends.”

Sagan answers the question at the end of the previous chapter—how can aliens be part of a mass-hallucination?—with this formula. He stresses the cultural aspect of superstitious belief, presenting it as the widespread narrative that ties human populations together, though one which is capable of creating great divisions in the population as well.

“Evidence doesn’t enter into it. If you dreamt it, if it felt good, if it elicited wonder, then it really happened.”

Sagan caricatures the attitudes of scientists whose standards of evidence are so low that they believe their patients without external proof. In this case, Sagan uses a rhetorical device to speak for G. Scott Sparrow, dismissing his approach in a casual manner, but avoiding any direct criticism that might shame an adherent of Sparrow’s beliefs.

“Those convinced that devil cults represent a serious danger to our society tend to be impatient with skeptics.”

Patience is a fundamental aspect of the scientific temperament. Sagan introduces the concept here as a dictum in a case study, before codifying it as a rule in the following chapter.

“We are not obliged to make up our minds before the evidence is in. It’s permitted not to be sure.”

Sagan stresses the essential patience that is required for the scientific method to reach sureties. Dwelling in unknowing, and the acceptance of the limits of one’s knowledge, are vital aspects of the mindset that Sagan is proposing, and are fundamental to the open-minded approach of scientific confirmation.

“This is about humans being human.”

There is fundamental compassion behind Sagan’s project. He is not out to chastise people for faulty thought processes and has no interest in the moral high ground. Rather, Sagan recognizes that these faults are virtually universal and have perfectly understandable motivations. This inclusivity allows his argument to step around political and philosophical divisions, and suggest itself as an antidote to the condition of being human.

“[W]hen governments and societies lose the capacity for critical thinking, the results can be catastrophic—however sympathetic we may be to those who have bought the baloney.”

Sagan makes implicit his connection between the danger of widespread belief in pseudoscience and the weakening, and potential collapse, of governments. His empathic understanding is evident in the compassion of the last part of the sentence, but the first part displays the seriousness with which he views the danger of pseudoscience.

“In the spirit of garage dragons, it is much better, for those claims not already disproved or adequately explained, to contain our impatience, to nurture a tolerance for ambiguity, and to await—or, much better, to seek—supporting or disconfirming evidence.”

Sagan recognizes the allure of easy answers and the difficulty of his regimen of active thinking. As Sagan is fully aware, many issues cannot be solved simply by employing his Baloney Detection Kit. Still, he warns against simply accepting claims if they cannot be easily unpacked. In many cases, active thinking won't immediately untangle false narratives, but will cultivate patience and the willingness to live with ambiguity until appropriate evidence is revealed.

“If it’s sometimes easier to reject strong evidence than to admit that we’ve been wrong, this is also information about ourselves worth having.”

Sagan softens the blow for readers who are confronting these concepts for the first time. In teaching others how to practice skeptical thinking, he recognizes that shame, upon realizing that one’s views are faulty, is a natural reaction. Passages like this attempt to mitigate this reaction through relatability: We are all fumbling toward better understanding, and any information about ourselves, even if it isn’t flattering, is worth having.

“Something similar is true is science. We have biases; we breathe in the prevailing prejudices from our surroundings like everybody else.”

Here, Sagan begins his defense of scientists. Scientists should not be assumed to be ideologically perfect, but should instead be viewed as fallible humans; they are not perfecting truth, but slowly and haltingly uncovering it. Scientists are imperfect, but they labor under a method which is self-perfecting. 

“Gravitational lenses and binary pulsar spin-downs reveal general relativity in the depths of space. We could have lived in a Universe with different laws in every province, but we do not. This fact cannot but elicit feelings of reverence and awe.”

Sagan takes on the criticism that the reductive nature of science doesn’t allow for numinosity or wonder. His counterargument is: The fact that so much complexity and difference can be subject to similar fundamental laws speaks to a far greater beauty than a chaotic mess of individuated rule.

“The price of moral ambiguity is now too high. For this reason—and not because of its approach to knowledge—the ethical responsibility of scientists must also be high, extraordinarily high, unprecedentedly high.”

In examining Edwin Teller, the prescriptive side of Sagan emerges. The argument in Chapter 16 turns on this point: Teller has created such a dangerous world with his proliferation of hydrogen bombs and his amoral advocacy that no other scientists can no longer ethically look away. New education programs and more scientific solidarity are needed.

“Both skepticism and wonder are skills that need honing and practice. Their harmonious marriage within the mind of every schoolchild ought to be a principal goal of public education.”

Recognizing the danger of untrammeled skepticism, Sagan acknowledges that the skeptical approach cannot be applied unreservedly. The balance between skepticism and wonder is fraught for the careful minded, but Sagan understands that extremism of any sort detracts from the health of an open society.

“Being freed from superstition isn’t enough for science to grow. One must also have the idea of interrogating Nature, of doing experiments.”

Sagan illustrates the nature of scientific inquiry. It isn’t just abandoning precepts and superstitions, but an active process in which rational and soberly-designed experiments test and ratify hypotheses. Without this working towards knowledge, the abandonment of superstition simply leaves a vacancy, and does not prepare a person to continue to encounter mistruths with skepticism.

“I hold that popularization of science is successful if, at first, it does no more than spark the sense of wonder.”

Just before this passage, Sagan quotes philosopher John Passmore, who decries boring science teaching as attracting those who like routine. To this, Sagan proposes his solution: the awe that scientific discovery inspires should be the engine for a life in the sciences. This excitement was Sagan’s entrée into science, and he believes it can sustain the life of any seeker.

“These exhibits do not replace instruction in school or at home, but they awaken and excite. A great science museum inspires a child to read a book, or take a course, or return to the museum again to engage in a process of discovery—and, most important, to learn the method of scientific thinking.”

As Sagan details his solutions to the problems Americans face, he begins with two simple concepts: First, helping others find the love of science within themselves, thus perpetuating further discovery; and second, reinforcing the tenets of critical thinking.

“There was a most revealing rule: Slaves were to remain illiterate.”

The spark of knowledge must be given to all people, thereby freeing all people, Sagan argues. The suppression of knowledge is well known to be an early indicator of tyranny, since autocratic authorities recognize the danger of an educated and inquisitive populace.

“Frederick Douglass taught that literacy is the path from slavery freedom. There are many kinds of slavery and many kinds of freedom. But reading is still the path.”

Next in Sagan’s list of fundamentals for a healthy society is equipping all of its members with the tool of literacy. From there, they can access the wider ranges of knowledge, and will naturally grow their intellect and compassion. There is no free society without free access to knowledge.

“When I was growing up, my father would bring home a daily paper and consume (often with great gusto) the baseball box scores.”

Often, autobiographical details emerge when Sagan is discussing education, particularly unconventional education, reflecting his parents’ early role in encouraging his learning. He draws lessons from their presence, particularly in his task to reach those who are not versed in science.

“By far the most effective means of raising interest in science is television. But this enormously powerful medium is doing close to nothing to convey the joys and methods of science, while its 'mad scientist' engine continues to huff and puff away.”

Sagan gained renown though his work on television, and one imagines that this invective was meant to be buttressed by the weight of his fame. As his essential message was being subverted by the medium's lazy stereotypes, Sagan, though careful not to place blame, is not afraid to point out its prevailing problem.

“But pure science, science for its own sake, science as curiosity, science that might lead anywhere and challenge anything, that’s another story.”

This passage is the first time Sagan makes the distinction between science and "pure" science. He has already held that free experimentation, in the manner of the Scottish physicist James Clerk Maxwell, is the most promising form of science, but now, with the distinction of pure science, Sagan suggests a term for the highest kind of research in his knowledge hierarchy.