Neil deGrasse Tyson

There are two ways to read Neil deGrasse Tyson’s latest book, To Infinity and Beyond: A Journey of Cosmic Discovery. The first is as an interesting assortment of facts and trivia concerning everything you may have wanted to know about the earth’s atmosphere, space travel, the solar system, and what lies beyond our tiny corner of the universe, including distant galaxies, trillions of planets, black holes, and the possibility of multiple universes.

Along the way, you’ll learn show more counterintuitive scientific facts, where and how Hollywood gets its physics wrong, and what would actually happen to you if you fell into a tunnel through the center of the earth from one side to the other. You’ll also learn that Apollo 11 was not launched directly into space, but flew around the earth a few times before heading to the moon; that the sun is white, not yellow; and why, as you ascend closer to the sun in our atmosphere, the temperature drops instead of rising.

As always, Tyson (and Walker) present this information with humor and wit, using clever analogies to facilitate comprehension. Unlike other popular science writers, Tyson understands that we’re not physicists, nor do we want to be. We understand that there are sophisticated equations underlying all of these topics, but the average person doesn’t want—or need—to know what they are. The concepts are fascinating on their own, and are better learned from someone skilled enough to teach them without all the technicalities. I don’t need to know the math to personally guide a rocket into space, but I do want to know the overall, general physics of how it’s done.

In this respect, this book is an absolute treasure.

The second, probably more important way to read this book is as a lesson in humility; reality is, simply put, not as it seems to us feeble-minded apes. While we tend to idolize ancient thinkers (sometimes for good reasons), we need to remind ourselves that we wouldn’t know anything useful about nature without the institutions of modern science, the technologies that extend our senses, and the experiments and equations that tell us reality is a lot more bizarre than any single individual could ever hope to learn on their own. This, I believe, is one of the core themes in all of Tyson’s books, and shines through particularly well in this one.

A single human, after all, stranded and isolated at birth on an island, has no more chance of discovering the deep laws of the cosmos than a chimpanzee. Collectively we are brilliant, individually we are quite limited. From our perspective, earth is stationary and flat; Mercury actually reverses course through the sky; and there are only five planets in the entire universe (the five planets visible to the naked eye are Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn).

It is only through the collective endeavor of science that we now know the earth is only one among trillions of other planets, and that Mercury only appears to reverse course as it circles the sun with us. Science surprises us because we are biologically equipped only to survive—not to comprehend the cosmos at large.

Now, if ancient thinkers could get things so wrong about the natural world based on intuitions alone, do you suppose they got other things wrong too, regarding gods, religions, and even human nature? I think the answer is a rather obvious and indisputable “yes.” And this is probably the most important lesson in the entire book. As you venture further out into the cosmos—and inevitably discover all the things you were wrong about or didn’t know—ask yourself what other delusional beliefs you may unwittingly hold. show less

Letters from an Astrophysicist is a collection of letters and replies from Neil deGrasse Tyson to his fans and other inquirers, collected over a span of more than two decades. The topics range across science, religion, philosophy, politics, ethics, education, and more, with Tyson doing his best to impart his cosmic wisdom to his often ill-informed interrogators.

You might ask what benefits can be derived from reading this collection of letters, rather than reading Tyson’s other works or show more watching his videos or podcasts. I think there are three:

1. Using the examples as a crash course in the art of letter writing for the purpose of being able to express your thoughts more clearly and concisely.
2. Learning how to answer a series of stupid questions with patience and understanding while cultivating a skeptical mindset in your audience.
3. Understanding the approach of a scientist and educator whose primary goal is the education of the public.

I used to think that Tyson was overly evasive when it came to questions of god and religion and that his reticence to take a stand on political and religious topics was timid and non-confrontational (especially in comparison to someone like Richard Dawkins).

While I still feel that there is a need for people like Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens, I’ve since come to appreciate Tyson’s very different but still admirable approach. Tyson doesn’t want to shove his beliefs down your throat, unless you ask. He’s not interested in converting you to atheism or anything else, or telling you which politician to vote for. He wants to give you the facts, to tell you how to reason appropriately and think responsibly, so that whatever conclusions you come to you’ve come to on your own. Tyson’s only real agenda appears to be the fostering of independent thinking skills in his audience.

As for the letters themselves, they are mostly edifying and often amusing. You may find yourself disagreeing with his approach on some topics, but his replies are typically well-thought out and researched. The letters to Tyson, however, can be monotonous and at times terrifically stupid (one person insists that they’ve found the secret to building a perpetual motion machine while another insists that Tyson should take Big Foot more seriously).

Tyson’s replies seem to boil down to a few principles that are repeated over and over. Here are the primary ones:

- A little bit of education is dangerous. People often know enough about a topic to think they’re right about some theory, but not enough about the topic to know they’re wrong. If you think you can build a perpetual motion machine, for instance, don’t bother Neil deGrasse Tyson; build the machine, submit your discoveries to peer-reviewed science, and win the nobel prize. More than likely, though, you’re just wrong; remember, education is largely the discovery of how little you actually know.

- The argument from ignorance underlies all superstitions and conspiracy theories. As Tyson said regarding the claim that UFOs are alien spacecraft, “Once you confess to not knowing what you are looking at, no logical line of reasoning allows you to then declare that you know what you are looking at.” The “U” in UFO stands for “unidentified,” and just because you can’t identify it doesn’t automatically make it an alien spacecraft. Similarly, that you can’t understand how the universe came into existence doesn’t mean that “God did it.”

- Eyewitness testimony is the least reliable evidence. Scientists and psychologists know that eyewitness testimony is the least reliable type of evidence available, especially when the event in question is several years old and reliant upon an also unreliable memory. All accounts of “supernatural” phenomena rely exclusively on this type of evidence, so if you’ve experienced something you can’t explain, for example, you should ask yourself whether it’s more likely that you’ve witnessed a suspension of the laws of physics or that you’re simply mistaken. Remember, the gold standard of science is peer-reviewed controlled experiment, to which no supernatural claims have ever held up.

- The belief in extrasensory perception has a basic psychological explanation. Fortune tellers and psychics are compelling to people because people tend to remember the hits and not the misses. Take the example of prophetic dreams. You have multiple dreams every night regarding events that never transpire, which you quickly forget. But the one dream you have regarding an event that comes true—among thousands of meaningless dreams—will be the one you remember and use as “proof” of your prophetic powers, when it’s statistically guaranteed that you will eventually dream of something that actually happens.

- Those who are determined to be offended always will be. There is nothing worse than someone who overreacts to an edgy joke. Every time Tyson Tweets something mildly controversial he gets bombarded by people who are destined to take offense on behalf of themselves or others or the country. We should all lighten up, not be so sensitive, and find something better to do with our time than police the internet for offensive material.

- Epistemologically, religion is the enemy of science. While Tyson is more conciliatory when it comes to religion than others (perhaps too much so?), he understands that the discovery of truths via revelation, miracles, or faith—all unreliable methods subject to the whims of the individual— is the antithesis of the epistemological approach of science based on observation, experiment, and logical analysis.

- The search for meaning outside of yourself is misguided. A number of questions fielded by Tyson revolve around the meaning and purpose of life and the belief in a higher power, whatever that phrase is supposed to mean. As Tyson said, regarding the question as to why we are all here: “I never think much about ‘why.’ Why implies a purpose set by external forces. I have always felt that purpose is not defined outside of ourselves, but from deep within. My purpose in life is to lessen the suffering of others; advance our understanding of the universe; and enlighten others along the way.”

While Tyson is generally on point, I do take some issue with his dismissive stance on philosophy. In fact, most of what Tyson does himself is not science; he discusses and interprets the findings of other scientists and advocates for a particular epistemological view. This is, in many ways, mainly philosophical, whether explicitly stated or not.

Personally, I don’t think it is possible to divorce philosophy from science, and history bears this out. Isaac Newton considered himself to be a “natural philosopher,” and his systematization of the universal laws of motion and gravity was largely a purely intellectual endeavor, not one based on simply running experiments and getting back data.

The same can be said for Albert Einstein, whose theories of relativity began as thought experiments only later to be codified in mathematical terms and confirmed via experiment. There is always an interplay between experiments, data, and interpretation, and philosophy is a big part of that equation. Tyson’s views here seem to be very intellectually narrow-minded.

Many physicists, for instance, such as Lee Smolin, believe that our next breakthrough in our understanding of quantum mechanics will be conceptual and philosophical. We already have the data, but no one can make any sense of it, or figure out which additional experiments can shed more light on the problem.

It’s interesting to note that elsewhere Tyson suggests, in support of government funding of varied priorities, that “the most innovative solutions to problems commonly come from outside of the field—from people inspired by different priorities.” He also speaks of “cross-pollination of the disciplines” as being beneficial, yet maintains a dismissive stance towards a discipline that has throughout history been closely allied with science.

In one of the letters to Tyson, an individual insists that philosophy is a useless endeavor, and that only science is useful, entirely oblivious to the fact that his very assertion of the uselessness of philosophy is itself a philosophical position that cannot be confirmed or denied via experiment. The fact is, we can’t escape philosophy; we can only decide whether we practice it poorly or well.

Overall, this is an entertaining and intimate look into the mind of one of our best science educators. You’re guaranteed to learn some useful facts and gain exposure to a more enlightened perspective. But if you find yourself disagreeing with Tyson, that’s exactly what he would want, because it shows you’re still thinking. show less

Dr. Tyson ruminates on how a scientific mindset and cosmic perspective recasts the political and social concerns of today.

Why I picked it up: Carl Sagan's "Demon-Haunted World" remains one of the most important books I think I've ever read. This seemed to offer more of the same.

Why I finished it: I don't think there's anyone as skilled at helping the layperson understand vast, astronomical distances, geological spans of time, or the infinitesimal as Neil deGrasse Tyson. Those bits kept me show more going. He is by turns smug and self-deprecating, and there's enough of the latter to keep the former from being insufferable. Occasionally he will use logic to pierce a misconception (the section on how searing meat can increase cancer risk) and then immediately invoke the same fallacy—perhaps that was the point though, to make us even question his own declarative utterances.

I'd give it to: Anyone despairing over the proliferation of misinformation. show less

A book for the modern person, apparently. Someone too busy, distracted, spiritually concussed, or algorithmically mauled to sit still long enough and ask the old questions properly.

Where did we come from?

What is all this?

Why does anything exist instead of nothing?

And why, after learning the universe is roughly 13.8 billion years old, expanding, indifferent, violent, beautiful, and mostly made of things we cannot even properly see, do I still get upset about ex-girlfriends?

That’s the trick show more of this book.

It compresses the cosmos without making it feel cheap. Tyson takes dark matter, dark energy, the Big Bang, atoms, galaxies, gravity, light, and our tiny little ape-brained placed inside the whole cathedral of it, and delivers everything with enough clarity that you don’t need a PhD, but enough weight that you still feel the floor drop out beneath you.

It is not a deep technical dive. It is a doorway labeled curiosity.

A reminder that we are not the centre. Not even close. Not the point, not the crown, not the grand final answer. We are temporary arrangements of cosmic debris walking around with opinions, debts, passwords, childhood wounds, and the astonishing arrogance to think the universe should explain itself on our schedule.

This is a sharp, accessible, beautifully paced book for anyone who wants to feel intellectually awake again without being buried alive in equations.

Read it when your problems feel enormous.

Then look up. They still matter.

Just not in the way you thought. show less