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Carl Sagan in 1980

Ten years ago today, Carl Sagan died. He had been a hero of mine since childhood, since I first watched Cosmos. I would kick the rest of the family out of the lounge room, close the door, turn off the lights, pull the beanbag up to the TV as close as possible, and let Carl show me the Universe and its history. From Empedocles and the water-thief, to the discovery of volcanoes on Io; from Lowell's dreams of Martian cities dying beside canals choked with dust, to Wolf Vishniac's death in Antarctica while paving the way for the search for life on Mars; the Big Bang, the Tunguska Event and the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence. I can't have been much into double digits when I first watched Cosmos, if that; heady stuff indeed for a young boy. His own joy in the search for knowledge was palpable, infectious, inspirational -- to the extent that I cannot understand how anyone could ever feel any differently. Here's a short clip from one episode of Cosmos, "The edge of forever": more metaphysics than physics, but if you've never seen it before, it will give you an idea of his style; and if you have seen it before, it will transport you again. It still sends shivers down my spine.

Not only did I adore Cosmos the series, and Cosmos the book, I also inhaled his other books: The Cosmic Connection, Broca's Brain, The Dragons of Eden; and later, Contact, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, The Demon-haunted World. Carl hugely influenced my basic worldview: rationality is our best tool for understanding the world, secular humanism our best antidote for the fact that we can never be perfectly rational. We are not at the centre of the Universe, which is anyway indifferent to our presence; but we are sentient, and that is a precious thing, or ought to be, to ourselves and perhaps to others.

The size and age of the Cosmos are beyond ordinary human understanding. Lost somewhere between immensity and eternity is our tiny planetary home. In a cosmic perspective, most human concerns seem insignificant, even petty. And yet our species is young and curious and brave and shows much promise. In the last few millennia we have made the most astonishing and unexpected discoveries about the Cosmos and our place within it, explorations that are exhilarating to consider. They remind us that humans have evolved to wonder, that understanding is a joy, that knowledge is prerequisite to survival. I believe our future depends on how well we know this Cosmos in which we float like a mote of dust in the morning sky.1

Carl's love for astronomy also helped steer me into pursuing astronomy as a career. From about the time I saw Cosmos on, I had a burning desire to become an astronomer and explore the Universe too. I nearly did too; I started a PhD and was nearly a year into it when I realised that (a) I wasn't very good at it and (b) I wasn't enjoying it very much. That's not Carl's fault, of course, but astronomy was such a hard thing for me to let go of, having made it a part of me for so long, and that's partly a testament to his eloquence and his passion. To cut a long story short, I switched to an MSc as a sort of consolation prize, while pondering what to do next. And it was during this time that I learned of Carl's illness. He continued to work and to write. A friend, a fellow astro postgrad, saw him speak at a conference in Hawaii and reported that he looked distressingly ill.

Ten years ago today, I sobbed like a child into my girlfriend's arms, and I must confess that I am tearing up even now. (Having Vangelis's "Heaven & Hell Part 1" playing in the background probably doesn't help.) Carl Sagan is gone, and he is sorely missed, but his influence will remain -- at least for as long as I live, and I suspect for much longer than that.

Other memories of Carl which have crossed my personal blog horizon: Bad Astronomy Blog, Centauri Dreams, Respectful Insolence, Cocktail Party Physics, Butterflies and Wheels, a great one from Larvatus Prodeo, and most poignantly of all, from his wife and collaborator Ann Druyan. These are all part of a larger blog commemoration effort (the results of which can be seen here), and the blogless can join in too.

Image source: Wikipedia.

  1. Carl Sagan, Cosmos (New York and Avenel: Wings Books, 1995 [1980]), 4. [↩]

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Orac responds to me ... sort of:

Orac paused, his lights blinking, patterns ever changing. It was almost as though he were thinking, if such a thing were possible by a computer. Then he went on, "Of course, as much as I've defended Dawkins before against similarly spurious uses of the Hitler analogy, now that I think of it, I have caught him before making arguments based on a dubious understanding of history."

"Not everyone would agree with you on that last bit," said Vila, smiling because he loved to see Orac get a comeuppance, and betting that Orac would be surprised that he knew of that little fisking.

"My basic point was correct," snapped Orac, his lights blinking red, "but I will concede that I may have overplayed my hand with respect to discussing Bomber Harris, who was a true ideologue. Certainly the Americans would have embraced the technology, even if Harris did not. [...]"

This is just a small part of a much longer post on a controversy raging among atheist bloggers at the moment, which itself is an interesting use/abuse of British history, as it revolves around calling anyone perceived to be "soft" on the intrusion of religion into science a "Neville Chamberlain atheist", i.e. an appeaser -- apparently a trend begun by Richard Dawkins. There's even a cute, ironic graphic to go with it (from here):

Proud Neville Chamberlain Atheist

I don't think this is an argument I want to get into! Anyway, I think that's something of a concession from Orac on the Harris issue; and I do appreciate his extended Blake's 7 pastiche, as I'm currently working my way through the first season on DVD. And Vila is one of my favourite characters, so I'm honoured to see him take notice of my humble blog :)

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[Cross-posted at Revise and Dissent.]

Two deadlines expire shortly. If you were intending to meet them, your time is fast running out!

One is for nominations for the 2006 Cliopatria Awards, for the best bits of the historioblogosphere this past year. Nominations close on 30 November. Collectively, my R&D associates have done well. Revise and Dissent itself has been nominated in the best group blog category. Alun Salt's Archaeoastronomy, Kevin Levin's Civil War Memory, and Jeremy Bogg's Clioweb have all been nominated for best individual blog. David Davisson's Patahistory Manifesto has been nominated for best post, which makes me rather ashamed to note that my own An unpleasant surprise is also a contender in that category. Finally, Alun has another nomination, this time for the best series of posts with his Vidi not-a-carnivals. Good luck all!

The other deadline is for submissions for the next History Carnival, which goes up at Barista on 1 December (Australian time, which is ahead of most of the world, so don't be late). Submissions can be made here. Should be a real pearler. As David name-checked me, and because he's one of the few people on Airminded's blogroll who is in the same hemisphere as me (practically within shouting distance, in fact), I feel obliged to post this reminder. Which of course reminds me, I haven't had a look for suitable posts myself -- so, if you'll excuse me ...

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Strange name, good blog. Gavin Robinson is moving on from a PhD on horse supply in the English Civil War:

This is mostly a history blog, but I’m aiming to be eclectic. I’m likely to be posting works in progress; reflections on things I’ve been reading; extracts from and criticism of my PhD thesis; and random thoughts on history, historiography, culture, literature, information technology, and, of course, other people’s blogs. This is all part of my strategy to broaden my horizons.

He's also weighed in on the discussion about when the Second World War started, with a post questioning the need for a single metanarrative of the war. His conclusion that 'Since we can’t dispense with the Second World War but can’t define it very easily, we might just have to accept that it’s fuzzy around the edges' seems reasonable to me. I like Gavin's interest in theory, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that I am resolutely empirical myself.

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I've added a section to the sidebar for history bloggers in Australia. There aren't many, but I'm always on the lookout for good ones.

The least familar one is probably thesouthcoast. It's is the work of Geoff Robinson, a labour historian at Deakin University in Geelong. It mostly consists of 'Historically informed comments on labour and politics with an Australian and North American focus', with an occasional dash of space exploration thrown in -- all of which suits me fine!

The other two are quite well known. Film writer David Tiley's Barista is by no means a pure history blog, but thoughtful historical posts on diverse topics appear regularly, and those alone would make for a blog worth reading. Everything else is icing on the cake.

The last one will probably be as surprising to most readers as it is familar: the beautiful BibliOdyssey, run by the mysterious peacay. Yes, it is Australian! The clues are out there, if you look for them ...

Two of these three are from Victoria, and one from New South Wales. Given the small numbers, this doesn't prove anything about the relative merits of these states, but let's pretend it does :)

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Choice: Current Reviews for Academic Libraries has an article on academic blogging in its latest annual web issue, and guess which academic blog scores a mention ...

Airminded is an example of a graduate student blog; it is devoted to the topic of fears of air attack in Britain prior to World War II.1

Note that it doesn't say it's a good example of a graduate student blog :D

  1. Laura B. Cohen, "Blogs in academia: a resource guide", Choice 43 (August 2006), 9. Actually, the OCRed version says 'Airmindcd'! [↩]

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Veteran history blogger Alan Allport (Horizon and Cliopatria) has an interesting new blog: War Starts at Midnight! I can't find anything defining the blog's scope, but so far the posts are a mixture of links to images, reviews and news relating to the World Wars, centering on the Second World War and Britain. Which is not surprising given Alan's PhD is on British demobilisation after the Second World War. Good stuff -- added to the sidebar.

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[Cross-posted at Revise and Dissent.]

The British contingent of the historioblogosphere has swung into action upon hearing that their government is planning to pardon over 300 soldiers executed during the First World War. I have little to add to what everyone is saying (broadly, that such a blanket pardon rides roughshod over a complex situation and seems to derive more from politics than history -- not that this is surprising), so I'll just link to the various posts:

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[Cross-posted at Revise and Dissent.]

... I'm a bad historian! No, well, actually, I have a post included in the latest Carnival of Bad History, which may or may not mean the same thing. Head on over to Hiram Hover's place and decide for yourself -- and while you're there, make sure you sample the other egregious ("Outstanding ... in one way or another", as Sir Humphrey Appleby once put it) examples on display.