Every time I’m in a gathering of people who specialize in the liberal arts, whether at a… Every time I’m in a gathering of people who specialize in the liberal arts, whether at a choral convention, debate tournament or staff meeting for this fine newspaper, I can always get people to look alarmed by simply responding to the question, ‘What’s your major?’ with the word ‘chemistry.’ Their eyes glaze over in shock and they rapidly change the subject, lest I burst out in sonnet or song about the finer points of nucleophillic substitution.

The sciences, for all they have done for society, have a rather mixed reputation. Those who practice them are portrayed as socially awkward nerds or ‘mad scientists’ who stand in the middle of their laboratories with ominously smoking Erlenmeyer flask in hand, muttering ‘With this, I shall control the world and get back at all those women who have rejected me over the years!’

This portrayal is utter nonsense. The textbook for CHEM 0666: Introduction to Maniacal Methods states quite clearly that ‘when laughing during a reaction that will rule the world, it is advisable to keep the reaction flask inside a fume hood.’

Not only are scientists made to be scary, but so is the subject they study. Sure, the public delights in little factoids like how many amoebae can dance on the head of a pin, but go any deeper, and most people simply aren’t interested.

This is truly a shame, for those majoring in the liberal arts may never truly discover what science majors already know: There is an aesthetic beauty and elegance to the sciences, just as there is beauty and elegance to a painting, play or novel.

‘But, but, science is so complicated,’ would be the reply from some. However, what is truly incredible is that we understand the world at all. A lot of stuff happens in nature, in space and in molecules. There are 92 natural elements, each having a distinct sort of chemistry, millions upon millions of different species, all in a universe a size beyond comprehension.

Things have interacted, on this planet at least, for about four billion years, with complex life around for about 550 million. Yet we understand some of the rules under which all these various elements interact, and we can teach quite a few of them, in very simplified form, to schoolchildren via shows like ‘The Magic School Bus.’

And that understanding of the universe, limited as it may be, is truly elegant. Take, for one small example, the class used to scare small children who want to be doctors: organic chemistry. Mechanistic organic chemistry can really be compared to ballroom dancing in some ways: molecules bond, interchange electrons, break bonds, rearrange and generally shuffle about based on lots of different rules.

Much as there are some moves in ballroom dance that are impossible, sub-optimal, or require lots of energy to do while others are very easy, the same is true of organic chemistry. And while some hate this subject with a passion, I think of it as a sort of moving-picture show. ‘Dancing with the Carbons,’ if you will.’

But science also has an awful lot yet to explain. To take a historical perspective: In 1874, Philipp von Jolly advised Max Planck not to pursue physics because, by his lights, everything had already been figured out. Jolly turned out to be astonishingly wrong, and Planck ended up making large contributions, opening the field of quantum physics and winning the 1918 Nobel Prize.

Today, we operate under no such illusions of being close to understanding everything. We understand that gravity exists, for example, but not conclusively why it exists, or why it is considerably weaker than other fundamental forces. New and interesting reactions abound in any scientific journal you care to name, many of these reactions solving difficult technical problems. Meteorology is still rather inexact. Oceanography is still in its infancy.

Finally, for the philosophically-minded, science operates on an interesting philosophical construct. Theoretically, at least, we cannot claim to ‘know’ anything. Ideas accepted as fact are accepted because they fit current data and have not been convincingly disproved yet.

Even the most venerable and confirmed theories are not safe. Newtonian physics, the last word on mechanics for more than 200 years, was shown to be a model that broke down in extreme circumstances.

Einstein is not a big deal because he had great hair, he’s a big deal because some of what he said flew in the face of 200 years of scientific thought and turned out to fit certain observations more exactly.

So, with that, who’s up for taking that additional science elective?

Write Mark at [email protected].

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