If you visit the website of any university physics department, you are bound to be puzzled by a wealth of seemingly complex and esoteric publicly-funded research. At the University of Virginia, for example, we have faculty investigating quark-hadron duality, electron scattering parity violation, and neutrino oscillations – all funded by government institutions such as the National Science Foundation, U.S. Department of Energy, and the university itself. Even as an aspiring physicist myself, I have too often asked myself, why are my taxes going towards this?
Although our country has many problems ranging from chronic disease to homelessness, we are extraordinarily fortunate to be largely rid of the daily struggles that threatened past civilizations such as food scarcity, famine, warfare, and widespread disease. We no longer live in a society of subsistence, but rather one of abundance where we collectively decide how to spend our surplus.
Don’t get me wrong: the problems that face modern citizens are profound and certainly worthy of our attention, time, and resources. One of the most beautiful things about science is, of course, its unique capacity to address society’s problems: from the polio vaccine to the microwave, science has undoubtedly shaped lives in unimaginable ways. But should society fund the type of science that deals with answering fundamental, abstract questions rather than addressing real, tangible problems?
The most obvious motivation behind government sponsorship of “basic science” is that it often leads to unforeseen yet tangible benefits. It was high-energy physics research that led to the creation of the world wide web, the theories of general and special relativity that resulted in GPS, and nuclear physics research that drove the invention of magnetic resonance imaging. In recent years, particle physics has led to novel methods of treating cancer and quantum physics has provided insight into how Alzheimer’s works. At UVA, high-energy physicists are using muons to probe the Great Pyramids.
When the R.R. Wilson testified in front of Congress in 1969 to justify spending 250 million dollars to build Fermilab, he was asked whether such an enterprise would be of any benefit to the American people:
SENATOR PASTORE. Is there anything here that projects us in a position of being competitive with the Russians, with regard to this race?
DR. WILSON. Only from a long-range point of view, of a developing technology. Otherwise, it has to do with: Are we good painters, good sculptors, great poets? I mean all the things that we really venerate and honor in our country and are patriotic about. In that sense, this new knowledge has all to do with honor and country but it has nothing to do directly with defending our country except to help make it worth defending.
It is this sentiment, I think, that truly makes science and the pursuit of knowledge so integral to the human endeavor. Throughout all of human history, people have been enamored not by the water that they drink or the clothes on their back, but rather by the stars in the sky and the creatures in the ocean. In the same way that art, literature, and music evoke emotions that cannot be described by words alone, it is science that inspires curiosity and effectuates a vast sense of wonder.
I’ll be the first to admit that scientists – especially physicists – have long failed at sharing the intrinsic beauty of their research: to the layman, quark-hadron duality or mitotic waves are esoteric topics. This is why I believe that the future of scientific advancement lies not in the brilliance of future scientists, but in those who are committed to communicating with the rest of the world. And if scientists are vigilant in sharing their work, then basic science ought to be supported not solely for its practical possibilities, but also its intrinsic beauty.