I never even skim the “Science” section of The New York Times, so it was by accident that I read a passable—on a Times curve, that means a C— “Guest Essay” by Adam Frank last week, “Why Young Men Are Losing Faith in Science.” Frank ascribes much of the blame to the “manosphere,” apparently a popular online corner that includes Joe Rogan as well as “a loose network of podcasts YouTubers and other male influencers.” (I suspect the veracity of the Times’ Tuesday science pull-out is just as sketchy as articles written by “business” reporters, who increasingly have no idea about what they’re “reporting.”)
I was vaguely aware of a “manosphere” but haven’t had the desire to find out more. I associated it with the odious “Man cave,” which isn’t confined to a specific demographic. I don’t have a “Man cave” at my home: I have an upstairs office that’s messy, with cluttered CDs, books, paintings, newspaper front-pages, a bullfight poster, religious icons purchased in Egypt, Italy and Venezuela, photos, bills and other documents. I find the idea of a “Man cave” off-putting and am not sure what it really means: a basement media room with a high-tech stereo system, four flat screen TVs, ugly carpeting and a mini-fridge stocked with “manly” items like beer, ice cream and energy drinks? I’m in the dark.
In any case, Frank, a professor of astrophysics at the University of Rochester, laments that many of his Generation Z students don’t pay attention to “real science” (he has the grace not to mention Anthony Fauci, Al Gore’s debunked climate change proclamations or Bobby Jr.’s zanier theories about autism and the measles), preferring to take the word of online experts about “ancient aliens,” fake moon-landings and UFOs. He continues: “I believe the first step out of the maze for young men begins by reasserting to them the virtue of hard work—an often grueling but indispensible part of finding the right answers in science… [T]he male tendency to view debates as adversarial contests that must be won at all costs is what may help to create a more alarming antiscience dynamic in the manosphere.”
I’d remind the Professor that the virtue of hard work applies to any profession, not just science.
I’d guess some of his points are valid, but as an older man (63) he surely knows that not all of his peers and friends shared his interest in science. I was an excellent student at Huntington, New York’s public schools, and received almost all A’s, which wasn’t easy because of all the homework and exams. But science? I wasn’t remotely hooked—I watched coverage of Teddy Kennedy’s Chappaquiddick Profile in Cowardice in 1969, at 14, after about one minute of watching Neil Armstrong eat green cheese—and struggled to understand earth science and biology. I didn’t bother with physics.
Since I required top grades for admission to “the college of my choice,” I collaborated with a couple of friends for tutoring sessions before tests in applicable subjects. Bobby Sargent schooled me in chemistry in 11th grade and I reciprocated by taking him through the basics of trigonometry. Bonnie was a bust at U.S. history, but had biology down pat, and those sessions were productive (although unfortunately confined to schoolwork).
My dad, a University of New Hampshire graduate, where he received an engineering degree in 1937, was a science whiz, but that enthusiasm didn’t filter down to his sons. He offered help at night but I knew he was beat from running his car wash, and didn’t want to impose. At college, I no longer cared about GPA, since I was a budding journalist and did the minimum at Johns Hopkins to get by. The school allowed only two D’s in a student’s transcript and I’d used them up by the second semester of my sophomore year. I took two “gut” science courses, a requirement even for English majors and had to call in every chit from buddies to get a Gentleman’s C.
I also alienated one professor, the late Robert Ballentine, by writing parodies of Drifters’ songs on my Biology midterm exam instead of trying to fake it with Kamala Harris-like streams of words that meant nothing. I joke about it now, but at the time it was hairy: I had to graduate, and by the time my final semester rolled around was forced to take seven courses to make up for the profligacy in my first three years.
It worked out, got a degree, and still have zero interest in science.
—Follow Russ Smith on Twitter: @MUGGER2023