BOOK: L. Sprague de Camp, "The Ragged Edge of Science" (cont.)

L. Sprague de Camp: The Ragged Edge of Science. Philadelphia, PA: Owlswick Press, 1980. 0913896063. x + 244 pp.

[Continued from Part 1.]

Pseudoscience

The third part of the book is largely about pseudoscience.

There's a review of Immanuel Velikovsky's notorious 1950 book, Worlds in Collision (pp. 179–83). In bold defiance of not only physics but common sense as well, Velikovsky claimed that various highly dramatic things took place in the Solar system as little as a few millennia ago, with planets moving wildly hither and thither, sometimes colliding, etc., and that this explains the widespread legends about catastrophes (e.g. floods) that we can encounter in almost all parts of the world.

There's a chapter about various pseudoscientific claims involving a supposed fourth dimension, which usually ends up having something to do with time travel (pp. 184–194).

There's a very interesting chapter about the languages of the future (pp. 195–216). This subject often occurs in science fiction, where a story may take place in the future and the author might wish to exhibit a few examples of his characters' speech; or he may even have a character from the present time travel into the future, which leads to the question of how this character will be able to communicate with the inhabitants of the future. Anyway, this chapter is a very nice introduction to the basic mechanisms of language change. It ends up with some educated guesses on what sort of languages and communication problems a science-fiction hero may encounter if he travels into the relatively nearby future, e.g. only a few centuries; but if he goes thousands of years into the future, anything we know of the languages of the present time will be more or less of no use to him.

“Some tribes make them [i.e. their languages] change even faster by deliberately altering the names for things. Kamehameha the Great of Hawaii went too far in 1800 when he celebrated the birth of a son by commanding new words for ‘man,’ ‘woman,’ and ‘dog.’ This law led to a revolt in which the son was slain.” (Pp. 210–1.)

“In 1928, the Turkish dictator Kemal Atatürk decreed that Turkish should be spelt with a modified Latin alphabet instead of the Arabic. He gave the Turks only eight months for the change, which drove most publishers bankrupt. The literacy of Turkey, never high, was thus reduced at one stroke to zero.” (P. 212. But he goes on to say that later things improved, and that the Latin alphabet is better suited to the Turkish language than the Arabic is.)

There's an interesting biography of Ignatius Donnelly (pp. 217–227). Nowadays he is chiefly remembered for his 1882 book, Atlantis: the Antediluvian World, which is pretty much the foundation of all the Atlantis-related pseudoscience from the late 19th century onwards. He also wrote a 1000-page tome claiming that Shakespeare's works were really written by Francis Bacon (The Great Cryptogram, 1888).

I learnt several new things from this chapter, e.g. that he also wrote some very successful science fiction: “Under the name of ‘Edmund Boisgilbert, M.D.’ he wrote a prophetic novel, Caesar's Column: A Story of the Twentieth Century (1890), which sold a million copies. This is probably more sales than those of all the cloth-bound science fiction novels published in the last decade put together. The story is laid in mid-twentieth century;” p. 224.

He also became a notable figure in the Populist Party. “Donnelly's science-fiction novels are shot through with Populist principles, the prohibition of monopolies, the graduated income tax, and a morbid fear of those bogey-men of agrarianism and of Henry Ford, the international bankers.” (Pp. 225–6.) “Of the Populist ideals he fought for, the income tax and anti-trust legislation, at first denounced as communistic, are now accepted facts. Ironically, Donnelly is remembered far more for his pseudo-scientific enthusiasms than for some of his later realized progressive political proposals.” (P. 226.)

“Despite his virtues, [. . .] [h]is ‘discoveries’ have withered away to mere intellectual fossils, amusing but impotent. He wrote on water, because, for all his intelligence, erudition, and goodwill, he lacked the power of self-criticism. Let him who would profit from others' follies ponder the tale of Ignatius Donnelly, pseudomath.” (Pp. 226–7.)

There's an interesting chapter about the efforts to ban the teaching of evolution theory in U.S. schools (pp. 228–239). He discusses the well-known Scopes ‘monkey trial’ in 1925; but, to my surprise, the last court battles of this sort took place as late as the late 1960s (the Epperson case in 1968, when the U.S. Supreme Court finally declared that laws prohibiting the teaching of evolution were unconstitutional).

The 1925 Tennessee law that was the basis for the Scopes trial was enacted in unusual circumstances: “Many non-Fundamentalists voted for it to carry Fundamentalist votes [. . .] expecting the Senate to kill the bill. Pursuing the same logic, the Senate passed the bill, expecting the Governor to veto it. At first dismayed, Governor Peay, under pressure from his fellow Baptists, signed it on March 21, 1925 [. . .] asserting: ‘Nobody believes that it is going to be an active statute.’ He could hardly have been more wrong.” (P. 233.)

In the years following the trial, “the Fundamentalist movement began to flag. Of the monkey bills presented to twelve state legislatures during this time [i.e. in 1927], only Mississippi's passed. Delaware's monkey bill of 1927 was referred to the Committee of Fish, Game, and Oysters, where it died a quiet death.” (Pp. 236–7.)

Finally there's a brief review of von Däniken's Chariots of the Gods? (pp. 240–2). The review is somewhat savage in tone — not that I think that von Däniken deserves to be taken seriously in any way, but I still can't help wondering if de Camp's sarcastic and mocking tone couldn't have been just as well dispensed with.

Incidentally, this is also the only chapter in which he uses the silly notation for centuries, with “+XIX” to mean the nineteenth century AD, and so on. In Citadels of Mystery he used it throughout the book.

Miscellaneous

I mentioned in my post about Citadels of Mystery that de Camp seems to have held somewhat conservative opinions on some questions, which occasionally show in his writing; there weren't as many examples of this here in The Ragged Edge of Science, but nevertheless here's one from p. 91: “Hordes of people want knowledge without study, health without self-discipline, wealth without work, safety without precautions, and, in general, happiness without earning it.” Yuck. Nothing could be more odious to me than the ridiculous notion that health, wealth, happiness, and other such things should be earned, rather than being the natural and obvious right of everyone, regardless of what he or she did or hasn't done.

Incidentally, De Camp seems to have been pretty good at cannibalizing his material and republishing it several times in different arrangements. In my post about Citadels of Mystery, I already mentioned some similarities between that book and his Lost Continents. Several further examples can be given now, of overlap between those two books and The Ragged Edge of Science. This overlap occurs especially in the first part of REoS, which is about ancient civilizations; which is not surprising as this book partly also draws on the same magazine articles as Citadels of Mystery. Sometimes whole passages of text are nearly identical (but never quite — de Camp seems to have been an inveterate tinkerer with his own text, endlessly touching up and rearranging things, modifying a word here, a sentence there, though I can't say that his changes seem to make any obvious kind of difference one way or the other), and some of the illustrations are the same as well.

Compare for example: count Waldeck, REoS pp. 16–17, CoM pp. 183–16; on the difficulty of reconstructing history from myths and fiction, REoS p. 23, CoM p. 17; how U.S. history might be remembered in myths if the modern civilization collapsed, REoS p. 46, LC p. 159, and a very similar passage appears in REoS pp. 71–2 and CoM p. 159; Madame Blavatsky, REoS p. 130, LC p. 54, CoM p. 228 (but with slight variations each time: in LC she's a “fat middle-aged Russian woman”; in CoM she's a “fat, middle-aged Russian adventuress”; iand in REoS, best of all, she's a “fat Russian hoyden”).

The Troy chapter in REoS is a shorter version of the one in CoM; the same is true of the King Arthur chapter; the early part of the “Faery Lands Forlorn” chapter in REoS (pp. 31–33) is a longer version of the early part of ch. 10 of LC (pp. 233–41).

There's even cannibalization within REoS itself, e.g. being followed by a little green man that disappears whenever you turn to look at him (as a metaphor for an incredible and unverifiable claim which we are therefore allowed to ignore) is used on p. 183 and also on p. 241; and the observation that most people never invented anything or had an original idea is used both on p. 12 (to explain the appeal of diffusionism) and on p. 242 (to explain the appeal of paleo-alien contact a la von Däniken).

Conclusion

This is a very pleasant and readable collection of essays, an excellent and classical example of skeptical writing and debunkery of various kinds of pseudoscientific and paranormal nonsense. De Camp writes in an accessible, down-to-earth style, is often humorous, and in addition to all that a fine teller of tales.

In case someone is addicted to political correctness, he or she may wince at one or two passages, but this is hardly surprising given that much of this material was written in the 50s and 60s. Overall I highly recommend this book, and I'm looking forward to reading more of de Camp's popular-science writing.

ToRead:

• Edward Foord: The Last Age of Roman Britain (1925). Mentioned on p. 68 as containing “a detailed chronicle of the fall of [Roman] Britain, covering the years of 343 to 582”. But, of course, it would probably be better to read some more recent book on this subject.

• A. E. Waite: Devil-Worship in France (1896). Cited on p. 163, mentioning the hilarious abominations supposedly practiced by the Freemasons in India. The first edition seems very expensive, but several modern reprints are available (e.g. Red Wheel / Weiser, 2003; Fredonia Books, 2003). The text is also freely available on the sacred-texts.com web site.

• J. Jastrow: Wish and Wisdom (NY, 1935). Cited on p. 167 in relation with the Taxil hoax.

• De Camp's other books, such as Spirits, Stars, and Spells (written together with his wife, Catherine C. de Camp), and Ancient Engineers.

BOOK: L. Sprague de Camp, "The Ragged Edge of Science"

L. Sprague de Camp: The Ragged Edge of Science. Philadelphia, PA: Owlswick Press, 1980. 0913896063. x + 244 pp.

L. Sprague de Camp was primarily a science fiction author, but he also wrote several popular science books and articles. Last year I read his Citadels of Mystery, and some time before that I also read his Lost Continents: The Atlantis Theme in History, Science, and Literature. I quite enjoyed both of them, so when I noticed The Ragged Edge of Science on eBay, I didn't hesitate much before deciding to buy it and read it.

This book is basically a collection of articles, on various subjects, all of which he had previously published in various magazines, mostly during the 1950s and 60s (and a few in the early 70s). Thus, I guess that some of these articles are probably fairly out-of-date by now, but on the other hand, many of them are about topics where a few decades more or less probably don't make such a big difference. The common thread is that these are skeptical takes on subjects that are often muddled by paranormal and pseudoscientific claims.

Ancient civilizations

The first part of the book is about various ancient civilizations, with an emphasis on the various pseudoscientific theories that have been proposed about them.

There's a chapter about the Maya (pp. 2–20), with a discussion of the various diffusionist theories that hypothesised that the Maya had a common origin with various other real or hypothetical ancient civilizations (such as Egypt or Atlantis). This includes a good debunking of diffusionism. Sometimes similarities between unrelated cultures can be explained by the simple fact that people everywhere were faced with the same limited set of options, e.g. in the case of burial customs: “you can only do so many things with a corpse: bury it as among us, burn it like the Hindus, mount it as in Inca Peru, throw it away as in Tibet, or eat it like the ancient Irish.” (P. 14. The Irish never disappoint. For more kooky ancient Irish funerary customs, see my post about Citadels of Mystery.) Incidentally, I was interested to learn that the hammock is an Indian invention, unknown in the old world before Columbus' time (p. 20).

There's a chapter about myths, how they develop, what they mean, and why it's usually not a very good idea to interpret them too literally as reports of actual historic events (pp. 21–46).

“[. . .] while the myths of primitives often show a childish irrationality, they still reflect the lives and customs of those who tell them. [. . .] In this way the Polynesian myths have to do with the Polynesian's main amusements: war, water sports, genealogy, and adultery, and the winner of a contest has the privilege of eating the loser.” (P. 23. You can see right away that this chapter is based on an article written in 1955 — he'd probably be flayed alive if he dared to write something like that now... :-))

“The Church Father Tertullian went into a perfect frenzy in describing his Hell: ‘What sight shall wake my wonder, what my laughter, my joy and exultation, as I see those kings, those great kings . . . groaning in the depths of darkness! [. . .]’ And so on, in a transport of sadistic gloating, he describes with drooling malevolence the roasting of actors, charioteers, poets, athletes, and everybody else whom he disliked.” (P. 44. A footnote says that the quote is from De spectaculis 20.)

There's a very short chapter about the civilization of Kush in Sudan, noted for its pyramids (pp. 47–51). De Camp also tells a few anecdotes from his visit to the Sudan: “I thought what I needed to add to the junk in my study was a well-bleached Sudanese camel's skull. [. . .] Not knowing the Arabic for ‘skull,’ I said I wanted the head of a camel [. . .] Oh, said Tejani, that would be easy. We should stop at Shendi, where I could buy a camel, cut off its head, and take it with me!” (pp. 47–8; he didn't).

There's a chapter about Troy (pp. 52–61), the archeological work there from Schliemann onwards, what we have learned about the history of Troy from these archaeological discoveries, and how this compares to the legend of Troy in Homer's poems. Interestingly, he uses the Greek spelling “Mykenai” instead of Mycenae (p. 58; in Citadels of Mystery he used “Mykenê”; the show-off!).

He mentions Hittite records containing names remarkably similar to those of some of the people in Homer's poems, e.g. Atreus (p. 59). “In Hittite times, there were two kingdoms in western Asia Minor: Arzawa in the southwest and Assuwa north of it. ‘Assuwa’ evolved through ‘Asua’ and ‘Asüa’ into our word ‘Asia,’ which originally meant the country later called Lydia.” (Pp. 59–60.)

There's a chapter about King Arthur and the Round Table (pp. 62–72); well, not really about him and his knights, since not much can be reliably said about them (including whether they existed or not), but about how the story evolved from the first vague mentions in the works of early medieval chroniclers (Gildas, Bede and Nennius) to the full story that we find in the later medieval romances.

There's an extremely short chapter (pp. 73–4) about the ruins of a Roman tower, the Tour Magne, in Nîmes, France.

There's a chapter about Teotihuacán (pp. 75–83) and another about the Toltecs (pp. 84–90); these are two less well-known pre-Columbian Mesoamerican cultures, and these two chapters are simply short introductions to them, without any particular references to pseudoscientific theories or anything of that sort.

“The Mexican Indians were in that stage between barbarism and civilization where most gods seem to demand unlimited human sacrifices. Many Old World peoples, such as the Sumerians, the Chinese, the Phoenicians, the Celts, and the semi-civilized West Africans, passed through such a stage.” (P. 87.) “Human sacrifice played a part in many older religions, such as that of the Gauls and the Phoenicians. It occurred in Rome as late as the Second Punic War.” (P. 143.)

Occultism

The second part of the book is about various subjects related to occultism.

There's an interesting chapter about the origins of the mystic trance (pp. 93–102); how this trance has been described by various mystics, and what may be the psychological and physiological mechanisms that lead to it. De Camp suggests that many memories and mental images, buried deep within the mind and quite forgotten by its conscious part, may sometimes, due to a malfunction of a part of the brain, unexpectedly flood the consciousness, and that this unusual occurrence is then experienced by the person as the mystic trance, with its attendant visions etc. (pp. 99–100).

He cites an interesting experiment by William James, who “by a nitrous-oxide intoxication [. . .] received a startling sense of metaphysical illumination [. . .] A torrent of ideas poured through his mind [. . .] He dictated as many of these ideas as he could, ‘which at the moment of transcribing were fused in the fire of infinite rationality’; but, when he came to read the result, it consisted of such drivel as: ‘By God, how that hurts! By God, how it doesn't hurt! Reconciliation of two extremes.’ ” (P. 97. The quotes are from James's essay Subjective effects of nitrous oxide.)

There's a chapter about the various silly occultist legends involving Mount Shasta, a tall volcano in northern California (pp. 103–112). The kooks involved in this story include Frederick Spencer Oliver and Guy and Edna Ballard, who even went so far as to found their own religious movement (‘I AM’).

“Ballardism may be described as a caricature of Theosophy. Since Theosophy has itself been authoritatively defined as ‘a caricature of Eastern thought and Western science,’ you can get some idea of Ballardism.” (P. 106. The quote is from Yoga: a scientific evaluation, by one K. T. Behanan.)

“St Germain [an 18th-century occultist whom the Ballards pretended to follow] hated red and black because these were the colors of Communism and the Black Magicians respectively. Consequently the I AM publications were printed in purple ink.” (P. 108.)

There's an interesting chapter with short biographies of various famous charlatans who pretended to have occult powers (pp. 113–129); most of the space is devoted to Cagliostro and Aleister Crowley. On pp. 128–9 there's a hilarious list of absurdly pompous titles that Crowley invented for himself: “ ‘Most Holy, Most Illustrious, Most Illuminated, and Most Puissant Baphomet Xº Rex Summus Sanctissimus [. . .] Grand Zerubbabel of the Order of the Holy Royal Arch of Enoch, etc. etc. etc. [. . .]’ Crowley knew perfectly well that these fine titles existed only in his head, but he printed the stuff anyway. Somebody might be impressed.” OMG. Grand Zerubbabel? Grand Zerubbabel? Who the heck could be impressed by this, rather than falling into a fit of laughter? I'm surprised he didn't top it all off by proclaiming himself the Grand Panjandrum...

There's a chapter about the prominent theosophist, C. W. Leadbeater (pp. 130–140).

There's a short chapter about the kabbalah (pp. 141–8).

There's a chapter about various people who, under hypnosis, claimed to remember events from their previous incarnations (pp. 149–157). This seems to be related to the problem of multiple or dissociated personalities, as described by some psychologists (see the interesting example on pp. 155–6).

There's a curious chapter about the Taxil hoax (pp. 158–168). In the late 19th century, Leo Taxil and various other authors took advantage of the virulent anti-Freemason feelings in the French catholic church at the time, and published shocking revelations of satanic worship among the Freemasons, complete with human sacrifice, contacts with demons, etc. Their books sold well, received much praise from the catholic hierarchy, and the hoax went on for twelve years before Taxil finally decided to end it and publicly declare that it had all been just a hoax.

There are two pages of quotations from the writings of Karl Hacks, one of Taxil's collaborators, who claimed to have witnessed abominable rituals in Freemason lodges in India and Ceylon (pp. 162–3). Their efforts to summon Beelzebub are as hilarious as they were unsuccessful: “the ill-ventilated place reeked with horrible putrescence [. . .] mainly owing to the presence of various fakirs, who, though still alive, were in advanced stages of putrefaction. [. . .] the native Grand Master suggested that the evocation should be performed by the holiest of all the fakirs, who was produced from a cupboard more fetid than the temple itself, and proved to be in the following condition:— (a) Face eaten by rats; (b) one bleeding eye hanging down by his mouth; (c) legs covered with gangrene, ulcers, and rottenness; (d) expression peaceful and happy. [. . .] a woman, summoned for this purpose, plunged her arm into the flames, inhaling with great delight the odour of her roasting flesh. Result, nil. Then a white goat was produced, placed upon the altar of Baphomet, set alight, hideously tortured, cut open, and its entrails torn out by the native Grand Master [. . .] This having also failed, great stones were raised from the floor, a nameless stench ascended, and a large consignment of living fakirs, eaten to the bone by worms and falling to pieces in every direction, were dragged out from among a number of skeletons [. . .] The Grand Master seized one of the fakirs and cut his throat upon the altar, chanting the satanic liturgy amidst imprecations, curses, a chaos of voices, and the last agonies of the goat. [. . .] A final howl of invocation resulted in complete failure, whereupon it was decided that Baal-Zeboub had business everywhere.” De Camp cites Devil-worship in France, by A. E. Waite (1896).

There's a chapter with pleasantly cynical advice to would-be prophets (pp. 169–75): if you want to be succesful, make lots of vague predictions; some are bound to be correct by pure chance; you can then point to them as proof of your prophetic abilities, while the wrong predictions will soon be forgotten.

[To be continued in a few days.]