Letters from an Astrophysicist

by Neil deGrasse Tyson

Gone is your knowledge of our place in the universe—the only human pursuit that has transcended culture, region, and time.

In other words, established science is not an ensemble of beliefs, it’s a system of ideas supported by verifiable evidence.

On my deathbed, one thought I will surely have comes from the evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins. He notes that we who die are the lucky ones. Most people—most genetic combinations of who could ever exist—will never be born, and so will never have the opportunity to die.

No one has ever suggested that obtaining Hubble images is more important than feeding people. But this premise seems to stoke your objections. The best of worlds is to do it all. And, even with the flaws in the system, we do it all better than anybody.

Scientists never “prove” anything. This word has a specific application in mathematics, but in science what we do is demonstrate, with sufficient experiments, that a consensus exists and further evidence in support of an idea would be a waste of effort or funding since other pressing questions remain unanswered. When such an experimental consensus emerges the results will never one day be shown to be wrong. In the modern era of science (the past 400 years) all that happens is that a bigger truth emerges that enclosed the previous ideas and experiments in a deeper understanding.

Rituals and traditions account for some of the strongest binding forces among peoples of the world.

One can participate without judging whether the events that established the ritual have any literal truth at all. The participation creates a sense of community, which has almost always contributed value to civilization.