If you ever decide to do it, you might regret studying philosophy. The cliché of the philosopher, angry, wild-eyed and rambling incoherently is not always so far from the mark. The same holds true for poets. Bedfellows, once again. But why, in the name of all that’s holy, are they like this? Well, it’s usually not their fault. It’s everyone else’s.

You see, people say things. And usually, it’s more akin to burping than speaking. I do concede that burps do have a certain charm. There was a burp in the previous paragraph: “in the name of all that’s holy”. It didn’t need to be there. It said nothing, really. However, it did accomplish something. It drew attention, like a big belch, while simultaneously offering a hint of comic relief. This helps soften the edges of the subject matter: that angry, raving lunatic philosopher.

Unfortunately, using that phrase will just make him madder. He’ll feel manipulated and simultaneously disgusted by the use of such a transparent device. You can’t blame him, really. After all, his senses have been honed to take in every word, instilling each with the collective nuances of any surrounding words, concepts and the larger framework of philosophical positions. And you just threw down a greasy doughnut wrapped in a water-soaked rag, to the ground, at his feet. Why not rave like a lunatic, particularly when everyone is doing the same thing all the time, everywhere?

Like I said, you might regret studying philosophy. But scientists ought to be required. Unfortunately, since scientists seem to instill the “language” of mathematics with the access to truth, there is little reason for them to study the broader disciplines of philosophy. I think they might change their minds, however, if they could see all the soggy jelly doughnut trails they leave behind. I’m going to try showing them a few, without challenging any of their theories or methods. Non-confrontational. That’s because I’ll be holding my little philosopher’s glass sphere in one hand, and the twitching dead cat of the poet in the other. Yes, I know it sounds yummy. Straight from the lunatic’s cook book. Secretly though, it will be little more than a brief exploration of semantics with a splattering of ontology, revolving around the celebrity of scientists that has recently emerged. Now pay attention, I’m trying to help.

“…in the name of all that is holy…” Holy: purity, sacredness, an unchanging otherworldly force beyond humanity. All things that are holy, brought together — the entirety of all otherworldly sacredness, under one roof. And then, given a singular name. That’s what philosophers hear. The twitching dead cat hears that, too. That’s what drives us mad, when people carelessly fling a phrase like this about. Even when we know it’s a burp. Sometimes, especially when we know it’s a burp. But not always.

The point being, when you are trying to convey something to another person, other than mutual burp-fests, your choice of words and phrases are very important. Why would an atheist wish to evoke images of God and sanctity when discussing evolution? (the question is rhetorical) The phrases do have an impact whether or not we intend it. It perpetuates a way of thinking which can be very much at odds with your goal. The tricky part about phrases in common parlance is that we disregard their impact by telling ourselves they are devoid of meaning by the sheer preponderance of their overuse. However, it might be surprising, even to those who feel apart from their culture’s historical traditions, just how tied we truly are to the cultural forces from which we emerge. Our language does not escape it. Our use of language certainly does not. In many ways, even the fundamental shapes of our consciousness are formed, in large part, by the long, ponderous histories we inhabit, simply by coming into being within a culture.

Now here is something that only people knowledgeable in information systems understands. Remember the hot girl, or hot guy that comes up to you, saying their computer is “broke”? You know that it probably isn’t broke. More likely, some program isn’t working how this hot body expects. You ask them, “did you see an error message?” And then they smile, and laugh, saying, “I’m so dumb with computers. I don’t know anything. Can you look at it?” nudge, wink. These people actually think it is cute not being able to answer a simple and obvious question. My dead cat twitches.

Scientists, most of you are the same in your use of language when communicating with the public. You do not always look carefully at the larger contextual meanings of the words you choose. This is not good writing. It is not poetic. It is not even cute. And worst of all, you do both yourself and your audience a disservice when you do not carefully choose your words.

For example, the Discovery Science Channel is one of the largest disseminators of various cosmological sciences to the masses. Several programs mention the Big Bang Theory. Almost without fail, the narrators or scientists say, basically, “the universe was created from a singularity, unimaginably small.” What does this mean? Something used a singularity to create the universe? A singularity created the universe from itself? The word “created” inherently implies that someone is doing something, resulting in a creation of some sort. I don’t know of any mathematics or postulates that predict someone is creating something within Big Bang theory. It is far clearer, and more accurate, to say “the universe emerged from a singularity,” even though such a thing seems impossible.

That being said, I suppose it is possible that these scientists and narrators who use the word “created” might have an agenda in doing so. Perhaps they are promoting Creationism. And strangely, even though most Christians, at least, do not like the Big Bang, that theory is probably their best shot at keeping God as close to the traditionally-perceived Creator as possible. Alternatively, perhaps these scientists and narrators use the word “created” to better allay religious people’s skepticism, to draw them more readily into the theory. Although devious, they would, at least, escape criticism for a use of blundering words.

Another common error for commentators, though in this case usually not scientists, is referring to the “vacuum” or “nothingness” of space. Although the twitching cat likes this, the glass sphere rattles in alarm. Space is not a vacuum — it contains stuff. Saying that space is a vacuum is flat-out wrong. Also, space is not nothingness. Space is something, even if we do not know what it is. Nothingness is what space is expanding into, though even that is misleading, because it implies that nothing is something that can be expanded into. So telling folks about the nothingness between planets or galaxies is patently misleading. People adopt their ideas of what space is, very early on. It is apparent for anyone teaching physics how difficult it can be getting people to re-think their assumptions, let alone deceptions, later on, when it becomes necessary.

What exactly is this “something” that we call space, that others choose to call “nothing”? I have no idea. And neither does anyone else, with any certainty. But regardless of our ignorance, is it not best to admit that we do not know what comprises the fabric of our physical reality? Why should we perpetuate an error, whether purposefully or by the accidental means of sloppily-chosen words?

I know that many scientists would like their pet theories accepted by both the scientific community and by lay people. However, no badly chosen words, nor the implementation of marketing techniques, will result in a theory’s acceptance. But if you are a snake oil salesman, it might get you some funding. I suppose a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

The final point does not lay with ill-chosen words. It lays within the context of how facts and theories are presented. People want to believe, and people want to understand their existence, even when it may appear they are not so concerned. Scientists have a great deal of specialized knowledge and the public often looks to scientists for impartial answers. That is a heavy responsibility for scientists to bear. But it is immensely important that scientific ideas are presented for what they are: theory or fact. Spend time placing the ideas within an objective context that admits any shortcomings or questions remaining unsolved. Reveal your skepticism as strongly as your convictions. In other words, if you are truly interested in furthering knowledge, present yourself in a truly academic way that will bring your notions to light while allowing the possibility you might be wrong, or at least not entirely right. Though it may not always seem it, people like helping others. And they will. And you can help them, particularly when you are not simply furthering your own agendas. We lay people are getting rather good at recognizing snake oil salesmen, any more.

But, all the being said… love ya! Seriously. Thank you…