Spirit of science lacking in P.R. museums
Museums in Puerto Rico do not convey the spirit of science, somewhat troubling given that such institutions are some of the most prominent means of its popularization. The activity is not portrayed as a lived experience but rather as dead, inert matter. They project the impression that science merely equals facts: a chart, a graph, or a map--somewhat reminiscent of a dull history lecture which teaches nothing except the names and dates it is self-enamored with.
A good museum display should confront the senses and stagger the mind. It should leave a definite impression that the world is not quite what we thought it was, and that when science is put to order, it can create things which are much more than the sum of their parts. In short, the experience should be magical--more than Disney World, but never made up. Here are three examples of what I mean.
In one of the many science museums of Paris, France, there is a small exhibit which is truly astounding. There are two transparent cylinders about five feet in height, with movable floors. In one of the cylinders there is placed a delicate goose feather--white, light, and fluffy. In the other cylinder we find a round black metal ball--hard, solid, and heavy. The display consists of dropping these two objects at the same time, once in the presence of air, and a second time in the presence of a vacuum. In the first case, the display demonstrates the common experience that the ball will fall much faster and harder than the fluffy feather. After a short while, the movable floors lifts the two objects back to the top of their respective cylinders. Then, a sound of a pump is heard, indicating that the air is being removed from the two chambers. When the two objects are released a second time, one is staggered to see the fluffy white feather falling to the floor as quickly as the hard solid metal ball: common sense betrayed.
If one travels to Naphlion, in southern Greece, once can visit a nearby underground chamber of a rather majestic burial site. There is a long outdoor corridor leading into the chamber, so it is not entirely dark as light from the outside is able to get in; two large stone giants guard the entrance. Yet what is most impressive about this room is not its archaeological value, but rather what it reveals about acoustic theory. The roof of the room has the shape of an ellipse, which enables the room to amplify sounds at two focal points near its ends. Since sound waves reflect against hard surfaces, the roof acts as a natural microphone, sans électricité. Two individuals standing far away from each other at the ends of the chamber will distinctly hear the softest sounds--a soft whisper, the dragging of feet against the floor--making it appear that the other person was standing right besides one. Nobody else in the room will hear the sounds as acutely as the two individuals will, as if the echo knew exactly where to go. To truly appreciate these amazing effects, one must experience them first hand.
Yet institutions need not spend a lot of money on expensive demonstrations. The history of science is full of experiments done by poor scientists, wonderfully revealing nature's secrets. One such experiment is that by John Herschel in the 1820's demonstrating the existence of rays previously unknown. Passing light through a prism, he put a thermometer on each of the rainbow colors to analyze their temperature differences. Deciding to test the idea further, he then placed thermometers outside the extremes of the colors--when something unexpected occurred. Instead of returning to a 'normal' temperature, the thermometer placed just outside the color red showed much higher temperatures. Herschel had just discovered infrared rays with such a simple experiment.
In each the three cases, the viewer has had the direct experience of science. They have not seen a record of the facts, but rather lived them--phenomena so unusual that they beg for an explanation. Experiences like these can help give students a genuine understanding of what science is about. Although such displays may not create future Nobel prize winners, they will help create a generation that will better understand nature's subtleties, and who will know how to use nature in their favor.
It is a bit odd that while there are dozens of art museums across the island, there are so few science museums. A friend who visited financially strapped Cuba once told me that there were at least four science museums in Havana, and that the capitol itself had been changed to a "palace" of science, housing the Cuban Academy of Sciences and a rather large national library of science. If we turn to the traditional urban strongholds of science in Europe, we will note that good science museums abound everywhere. London, like Paris, is filled with one reference or other to some scientific luminary--even its churches. (Westminster Abbey holds the tombs of men like Charles Darwin and Isaac Newton.)
If museums are the result of a nation's culture, could they not also help mold and shape that culture as well?