footnotes in history

I seriously need to boost my Comparative Literature grade. By any means possible.

Today, I had my History 30B midterm. Until now, my wrist is still sore from the speed at which I was writing then. History 30B is a class I'm rather fond off - which makes sense since I've always adored history. I still remember Pui Shen taunting me with the fact that the historical fiction section of the Borders in KL completely dwarfed anything Penang had to offer, back in 2005. Pui Shen, Pui Shen, I'll always remember you for that. Maybe my fiery palm of doom and I will visit you come summer.

Just joking.

Or was I? *Grins menacingly* Nah. Seriously. But if get less than an A- on this midterm, I'm going to switch my grading option for the class from letter grades to pass/not pass. It feels a bit like failure, like giving up - but I know my limitations, and the battles worth fighting. And that's a shame, because this class is the History of Science. *cue radiant light from above and 'aahs' from an unseen choir* Two of my favorite things together. I couldn't ask for much better a humanities breadth.

I always tell people that I loathe biology because of the rote memorization. Given my passion for history, that is evidently a convenient lie. Something that makes me look good - something that seems better than stating my lack of interest. It's all about delusion. And that's interesting, because I willfully struggle with my faith as I would rather live in despair than in delusion. Somehow people develop an opinion of me, one that I am most happy to encourage, that I am solely pragmatic and single-minded. Yet there is unmistakably the romantic within me, the one who would wish to witness Alexander hacking apart the Gordian knot, the crossing of the Rubicon, the Battle of Thermopylae, ad infinitum. Fun fact of the day: Muslims revere Alexander and in Malay, he is called Iskandar Zulkarnain. This, doubtlessly, comes from his Arabic name - Dhul-Qarnayn - which interestingly means 'the two horned one'.

But more than that, there is much to learn from history. Much more than stupid facts like when Newton said,"If I have seen further than others, it is by standing upon the shoulders of giants” he was slighting his contemporary, Robert Hooke, who was rather short. Yea, Newton was a pretty mean guy, what with Liebniz and all. More than bewilderment at how long Aristotelian ideas persisted. I realize that it is perfectly fine to be wrong. All too often, a - by our definition - 'correct' idea cannot be excepted before less 'correct' ideas have been elucidated and pursued.

Consider

It is very hard to remember that events now long in the past were once in the future.
- Maitland
History will absolve me.
- Fidel Castro

Happy people have no history.
- Leo Tolstoy

Men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly found, given and transmitted from the past.
- Karl Marx

What would prompt men to live with history on their backs? For some, it is the pair of wings that carry them, to the golden sphere of the sun. For some, it is the millstone that drives them to the ground. History is kind to few people. Cuvier, who was a shining examplar of scientific excellence in Napoleon's court, is now thought little of compared to Lamarck, whose prestige never approached that of his arch rival. Einstein didn't believe that nuclear energy could be harnessed for peaceful uses. But look at Carnot, who died an early death, filled with despair that the caloric theory he had based his life's work on seemed to utter nonsense - yet his work inspired a generation of engineers in later years.

Truly, it is exceedingly difficult to suppress any form of judgement when going through history. Everything seems so trivial, so utterly pointless and disgustingly simple. But when you are able to put on the glasses of one experiencing the Enlightenment - the world is permeated with radiant wonder. When I read about Darwin's 52 month long journey on the H.M.S. Beagle as a 22 year old Anglican minister-in-training. When I read about people administering electrical shocks to themselves with Leyden jars. When I read of journeys in the blistering cold of Lapland or in the mosquito ridden jungles of Indonesia. When I read of people spending their lives arguing for the truth. When I read of people throwing away their beliefs and their religion when science argues for the contrary.

History drops me down to my knees but I am most grateful for it. Because there is so much beauty in the chaos, in the haphazard search for truth. The wonder in the eventual return to rationalist, deterministic Cartesian arguments. And because it illuminates our souls, and our cultural heritage.

People say that Newton ended the revolution that Copernicus started. Science, in a way, is battle against our innate sense of self-importance. Something that pushes us towards existentialism. Before Copernicus, the earth was the center of the universe. Before Newton, man, chiefly white man, was firmly at the top of 'The Great Chain of Being' - a hierarchy of all life forms. And to Newton, there was the objection that natural selection had no concept of a 'final cause' *again, an anachronistic Aristotelian concept, google 'The Four Causes' or something* - no concept of a higher meaning. What arrogance it is to insist that life has to have a meaning. Because we as humans are so important, so significant as organisms?

In history, I recognize that the people I despise remain. The Greeks who had Socrates eat poison. The Church authorities who imprisoned Galileo. The mindless masses of the French Revolution who had Lavoisier executed.

I wish I were the person who wrote of Darwin's Bulldog, "Another account: Then the Bishop rose, and in a light scoffing tone, florid and he assured us there was nothing in the idea of evolution; rock-pigeons were what rock-pigeons had always been. Then, turning to his antagonist with a smiling insolence, he begged to know, was it through his grandfather or his grandmother that he claimed his descent from a monkey? On this Mr Huxley slowly and deliberately arose. A slight tall figure stern and pale, very quiet and very grave, he stood before us, and spoke those tremendous words — words which no one seems sure of now, nor I think, could remember just after they were spoken, for their meaning took away our breath, though it left us in no doubt as to what it was. He was not ashamed to have a monkey for his ancestor; but he would be ashamed to be connected with a man who used great gifts to obscure the truth. No one doubted his meaning and the effect was tremendous. One lady fainted and had to carried out: I, for one, jumped out of my seat; and when in the evening we met at Dr Daubeney's, every one was eager to congratulate the hero of the day."

And today, I rage against the opponents of stem cell research and demagogues who throw around the phrase, "playing God" all too easily. And against the Christian leaders who opposed a bill to vaccinate young girls against a common STD because "you cannot disobey God's rules without there being consequences."*paraphrase. Talk about Machiavelli in the church.

p.s. I'm going to be watching Yellowcard in April for $5. Woot. And I just downloaded Photoshop CS3 and will start working on a new layout. Any suggestions? I feel like trying for the china doll with blood running down as tears image I've always had. Or I can make MatLab slave over generating fractals.