Theological Science
I'm amused by how much the scientists in certain fields sound like theologians. I've been reading The Next Fifty Years, a book of essays by scientists discussing the future of their fields, and some of them remind me so much of the theologians I studied in seminary.
The theological scientists are usually those dealing with subjects they can't control for the purpose of experiments, and therefore have very little hard data on. The latest are astrobiologists — those who study life on other planets. (Yes, there really is such a field of science.)
The main problem for astrobiologists is that we've never actually encountered any life from other planets. So, astrobiology is entirely theoretical.
However, if there is life on other planets, the astrobiologists can tell you what it might look and act like. They can also tell you how it probably came to be — this field is known as biogenesis (that phrase sounds familiar). For discussions of biogenesis, astrobiologists rely a great deal on the ideas of evolutionary biology, another branch of science that deals with subjects beyond experimentation.
As with theologians who tend to make God in their own image, theoretical/theological scientists tend to make their subjects in their image.
Of course, all forms of science and philosophy are getting better about trying not to anthropomorphise (March of the Penguins aside): Astrobiologists no longer search for venetian-style canals on Mars. Evolutionary biologists no longer believe modern humans are the pinnacle of a seamless evolutionary pyramid. And theologians are beginning to realize that God is probably not a giant man with a white beard.
However, the pull toward anthropomorphism is always there, and a lack of hard data will always lead some people to make things up. I once read that we are most adamant about that of which we are least sure. If so, it explains why evolutionary biologists and creationists are so loud and argumentative -- neither knows what really happened long before we were born.
The theological scientists are usually those dealing with subjects they can't control for the purpose of experiments, and therefore have very little hard data on. The latest are astrobiologists — those who study life on other planets. (Yes, there really is such a field of science.)
The main problem for astrobiologists is that we've never actually encountered any life from other planets. So, astrobiology is entirely theoretical.
However, if there is life on other planets, the astrobiologists can tell you what it might look and act like. They can also tell you how it probably came to be — this field is known as biogenesis (that phrase sounds familiar). For discussions of biogenesis, astrobiologists rely a great deal on the ideas of evolutionary biology, another branch of science that deals with subjects beyond experimentation.
As with theologians who tend to make God in their own image, theoretical/theological scientists tend to make their subjects in their image.
Of course, all forms of science and philosophy are getting better about trying not to anthropomorphise (March of the Penguins aside): Astrobiologists no longer search for venetian-style canals on Mars. Evolutionary biologists no longer believe modern humans are the pinnacle of a seamless evolutionary pyramid. And theologians are beginning to realize that God is probably not a giant man with a white beard.
However, the pull toward anthropomorphism is always there, and a lack of hard data will always lead some people to make things up. I once read that we are most adamant about that of which we are least sure. If so, it explains why evolutionary biologists and creationists are so loud and argumentative -- neither knows what really happened long before we were born.