Religion and the Sciences Opportunities and Challenges Edited by Ronald A. Simkins and Thomas M. Kelly 14. Contested Wonder Biological Reductionism and Children’s Nature Education Lisa Sideris, Indiana University Introduction In an address to the Aspen Environmental Forum in 2008, sociobiologist E. O. Wilson made the provocative suggestion that the child-rearing practices of “soccer moms” pose a key threat to the nature education of today’s youth. “The worst thing you can do to a child,” Wilson opined, “is take them on a hike through a botanical garden, where there are the names of the trees on the side” (quoted in Hymas). In opening remarks to the same forum in 2012, Wilson reiterated this basic philosophy: “You’ve got to get the kid out in the woods, in the natural environment as much as you can, and leave them alone. The worst thing you can do is to take them down the path of some nature park that has the label on each tree and tell them to be careful not to step off the trail because there might be snakes. What a terrible way to introduce them to nature. Turn ‘em loose!” (quoted in Nicholas). In both cases, 193 Religion and the Sciences Wilson then went on to invoke the sage advice of environmental pioneer Rachel Carson who instructed parents (in Wilson’s words) to “take the child to the seashore, turn her loose with a pail, and tell her to go explore the tidepools. Don’t tell her the names of any of these things. Let her find them, let her bring them to you . .” (quoted in Hymas). Hyperbole aside, Wilson’s point about children’s need for free and unscripted play in nature – outdoor activities distinct from competitive sports or passive memorization of taxonomy – is well taken. This position has been defended not only by Carson but more recently by authors such as Richard Louv, whose Last Child in the Woods kindled parents’ nostalgia for bygone days when children roamed the countryside without cellphones and built tree forts without building permits. Just what constitutes actionable parenting practices nowadays is a topic about which Richard Dawkins has also made a number of typically uncensored remarks. Dawkins has long taken an interest in children’s science and nature education and religious indoctrination. He once launched a diatribe against a London newspaper that ran what it intended as a heartwarming photo of three children taking part in a Nativity play at Christmastime. What drew Dawkins’ wrath was the newspaper’s description of three children as Muslim, Hindu, and Christian, respectively. “How can you possibly describe a child of four as a Muslim or a Christian or a Hindu or a Jew?” Dawkins demanded. “Would you talk about a four-year-old economic monetarist? Would you talk about a four-year-old neo-isolationist or a four-year- old liberal Republican? . Do you see what I mean about mental child abuse?” (2012: 566). Not content to chastise weary soccer moms or newspaper reporters giddy with Christmas cheer, Wilson and Dawkins have taken a more targeted approach to influencing children and parents. Wilson’s semi-autobiographical coming-of-age novel Anthill hit bookstores in 2010. In 2011, Dawkins released his own book aimed at children and young adults – a brightly illustrated book of answers titled The Magic of Reality: How We Know What’s Really True. Wilson and Dawkins are two of the most prominent ambassadors of the world of science. Opinionated and controversial though both of them are, they have played a significant role in shaping public understanding of science. As I see it, these books, aimed at younger audiences are part of a larger effort to control the discourse surrounding wonder – in this case, children’s wonder – and its relationship to science and religion. In particular, Wilson and Dawkins are both invested in shaping children’s perceptions of what constitutes reality. Dawkins is unequivocal in his defense of science as the only authentic means of accessing reality – and its distinctive and superior brand of “magic.” Introducing children to the “real world” carries a certain urgency for Dawkins, because he means to draw them into the joy of scientific explanations before they can be seduced by the “false” myths purveyed in religion or fairy tales. Wilson’s approach is more complex, as suggested by his invocation of Rachel Carson’s philosophy that direct, sensory engagement with “nature” – not nature in the lab or classroom – is integral to the well being of children. Taken as a whole, Wilson’s pronouncements about science, nature, and religion suggest a deep divide within his own value system, and this conflict often interferes with his defense of nature as valuable in its own right. Journal of Religion & Society 194 Supplement 11 Religion and the Sciences Magic, Poetry, and Science Dawkins’ interest in children’s education is not new, though, like the neo-atheist phenomenon as a whole, it seems to have ramped up significantly since September 11, 2001. Several years ago, Dawkins famously published a letter to his daughter Juliet – who was ten years old at the time – titled “Good and Bad Reasons for Believing.” The letter urges her to remain on guard against belief without evidence and to put her trust in scientists, who remain “the specialists in discovering what is true about the world . .” (2003a: 242). For Dawkins, the category of problematic belief includes virtually everything ranging from children’s fairytales, to Santa Claus, to programs like The X-files, to fundamentalism. He has been a vocal critic of the Harry Potter series for promoting what he calls “anti-scientific” beliefs and a fondness for myths and fairy tales. Not surprisingly perhaps, he is a fan of Philip Pullman’s books such as the The Golden Compass, which many readers have perceived to be hostile to Christianity (Beckford and Khan). While few would defend the scientific merits of the Harry Potter series, Dawkins’ claim that these books are anti-scientific and potentially harmful reflects his conviction that childhood immersion in myths and fantasies of any sort actually hinders development of cognitive and imaginative faculties. He disapproves of C. S. Lewis’ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for its reliance on “a magic wardrobe to pass through” and other invocations of what he calls a “fake world of wonder” (2003b: 231). Dawkins has also delivered The Royal Institution’s Christmas Lectures for children, a British holiday tradition. His lecture series, titled “Growing Up in the Universe,” urges children to shed all superstitious thinking and to regard with great suspicion all claims of the “uncanny” (1991). He writing also discourages children from thinking of science as something fun and larky. Popular science demonstrations featuring “fun explosions” and “whacky ‘personalities’” only “store up trouble for the future,” he ominously warns (1998: 22). Early press releases for The Magic of Reality gave it the working title “What is the Rainbow, Really?” Dawkins has a longstanding interest in the rainbow as a contested icon of wonder. His 1998 book, Unweaving the Rainbow, chides the romantic poets who resented Newton for explaining the rainbow and thus demolishing its aesthetic, mystical, and even religious, appeal. The central message of Unweaving the Rainbow is that scientific explanations are more interesting, satisfying, and even more wondrous, than the erstwhile mystery that prompted investigation. He offers Unweaving the Rainbow as a consolation prize for readers left bereft and despairing by revelations about nature and human nature contained within Dawkins’ breakthrough book, The Selfish Gene. “In this book I shall try a more positive response, appealing to the sense of wonder in science because it is so sad to think what these complainers and naysayers are missing” (1998: x). Specifically, the complainers are missing the “deep aesthetic passion,” the “music and poetry” of the scientific perspective. In short, Dawkins tries to make it up to us by steering us toward the superior forms of wonder afforded by scientific investigation. “If you think the rainbow has poetic mystery, you should try relativity [theory]” (1998: 42). Science reveals “strangeness beyond wild imagining” but no spells, wizards, or witches. It allows “mystery but not magic” (1998: 29). The line between mystery and magic is not always easy to patrol, even for Dawkins, but it appears that he has gradually warmed to the word magic. In a more recent interview, Journal of Religion & Society 195 Supplement 11 Religion and the Sciences Dawkins concedes that it was difficult for him to put the word magic in the title of his book for children, The Magic of Reality – after all, he accused C. S. Lewis of stooping to magical wardrobes (Attenborough and Dawkins). He defends a distinction between magic “as in a magic trick, and the magic of the universe . which one uses in a poetic way.” Science, Dawkins has argued repeatedly, is the poetry of reality. Unlike other kinds of magic, the poetic magic of science is real. The Magic of Reality is intended as a myth-busting book for kids. By “myths” he means everything from fairytales about the rainbow’s origin to “Judeo- Christian myths” such as Noah’s Ark. The book addresses a number of questions a child might ordinarily encounter in Sunday school, such as: “what is the origin of night and day?”; “who were the first man and woman?”; “when did everything begin?”; and even “Why do bad things happen?” (2011) A chapter on the sun presents Aztec, Egyptian, and Aboriginal myths, prior to displacing each of these with an account of the sun’s true nature. Though Dawkins encourages children to make up their own minds, the book’s message is essentially the same as Unweaving the Rainbow: what is real in the scientific sense is, without question, most deserving of wonder.