Chapter 21

Anna looked out across the almost fifty people gathered in Lecture Hall A at the Institute of Biology. She didn’t know most of them, postgraduates from other departments and institute staff who must have seen her disseration defense listed on the internal notice board. Hanne Moritzen sat in the back row. In her grief, she glowed faintly, like a distant moon. Asger had been buried last Saturday, and Anna had attended the service. At first, they had been the only two mourners, but Dr. Tybjerg arrived at the last minute, dressed in a nice but crumpled suit and with a fresh haircut. The organ started playing and none of them heard the door open and shut again, but when the service was over and they rose to leave, Mrs. Helland was sitting at the back of the church. She said nothing, and she didn’t look up.

Anna’s eyes swept across the seat rows. There was Jens and Cecilie, and Karen next to them. They all watched her with excitement, and Jens’s eyes were moist. Anna had asked him not to take photographs, that it would distract her and make her nervous, but she couldn’t stop herself from grinning when, for the fourth time in less than ten minutes, he sneaked out his camera and snapped a picture of her.

They all had dinner together the other day, Anna, Karen, Lily, Jens, and Cecilie, and it had gone very amicably. They had talked about Troels, and Karen and Cecilie had cried. That was all right. Anna understood they were shocked. After the meal, Karen had gone to the corner store and Jens, Anna, and Cecilie had cleared up while Lily put her dolls in a drawer in the living room. Cecilie started to speak, “Er, Anna,” she said, in a certain way. Anna stopped her.

“But we have to talk about it,” Cecilie protested, her voice thick and Jens standing behind her, nodding.

“We do, Anna, my love,” he said.

“And I want to,” Anna replied. “I promise you. But not now. I’m exhausted.”

Cecilie and Jens had accepted that.

At that moment, Karen returned with marshmallows, and they all played a game of Monopoly.

Her lecture would begin in five minutes. Anna was sweating. They had agreed that Karen would pick Lily up from nursery school between Anna’s lecture and examination. Afterward there would be cake and champagne for everyone in the department, and Lily was, of course, invited.

Dr. Tybjerg sat in the front row, tilting his pencil. He was dressed in the crumpled suit he had worn at Asger’s funeral, and he looked gravely at her. He pointed to his watch with his pencil and Anna nodded.

She lowered the lights and took a deep breath.

She opened with a short historical review and proceeded to the in-depth presentation of scientific ideals where she succinctly accounted for Popper, then Kuhn and Daston after which she extracted the basic rules for scientific integrity, the same that had been listed on the paper she had given to Professor Freeman. It took her about fifteen minutes. The next thirty minutes she spent reviewing the morphological evidence linked to the controversy. At fairly high speed, she went through the stratigraphic disjunction, the half-moon-shaped carpus, the furcula, the ascending process of the talus bone, the fingers of the bird hand, and the base of the pubic bone, whereupon she considered in detail first the disputes and then the theoretical science problems linked to the evolution of the feather. She held a small remote control in her hand, and while she explained, illustrations and keywords flashed up on the screen behind via a computer.

Anna briefly looked out into the darkness.

“After this review it should be clear that Clive Freeman, professor of paleoornithology at the Department of Bird Evolution, Paleobiology, and Systematics at the University of British Columbia, didn’t adhere to the most basic rules for sober science, and his archosaur theory is riddled with major internal contradictions and a striking absence of consistent methodology. The central question is . . .” Anna paused and tried to find Dr. Tybjerg’s eyes in the half-light, “why? Why is the opposition reluctant to accept that birds are descended from dinosaurs? I propose three possible reasons.”

Anna took a step toward her audience.

“Firstly, it’s human to see what you want to see.” Anna dearly wished she could look into her mother’s eyes, but Cecilie was lost in the darkness. “And in people’s minds, dinosaurs don’t have feathers as per previous definitions. The same conservatism applies to birds. Birds are unique and advanced, and every child can tell you they look nothing like dinosaurs. After all, they’re not big scary creatures with teeth!”

A short burst of laughter from the hall.

“The truth often lies elsewhere,” she went on, “in the ground, from where it must be excavated, dusted down, and interpreted as objectively as possible.” She let the conclusion linger for a moment, and then she went on:

“Secondly, there’s human obstinacy, here camouflaged as scientific prestige. The opposition and Professor Freeman, in particular, have obviously invested considerable resources in supporting a position, which at some stage has turned out to be scientifically untenable. Acknowledging you were mistaken is no defeat. Acknowledging you were wrong is to accept that you participate in a discipline called science, where the overall dynamic depends on scientists constantly proposing possible hypotheses and trying to support them with evidence and, more important, reject them when they can’t. Not to acknowledge this is, however, unscientific. Clive Freeman can maintain his position as much as he wants to, also for reasons we cannot fathom, but he doesn’t have the right to call it science.

“Thirdly, it’s about the communication of science, and this is closely related to status in science, as mentioned earlier. It’s one thing to understand Clive Freeman’s agenda, but if you really want to appreciate why a controversy like this one endures, you need to turn your eyes to the world in which research and science exist. It’s a world characterized by tough competition for scarce research grants, a world wherein the media play a shockingly big role for scientists and consequently the quality of science.

“Since the latter half of the twentieth century it has become customary to publicize scientific controversies, in order to make science accessible to the wider public. However, it’s my opinion we are currently experiencing a shift in communication, where the interest in the content of a controversy has given way to a rise in interest in the feud itself. Everyone knows that Bjørn Lomborg argued with leading experts about the state of the earth, but how many lay people can explain the scientific arguments at the heart of that controversy, and how many understand its scientific implications, even though the media covered it extensively?”

Anna looked at Dr. Tybjerg and saw the pencil in his hand, which now rested in his lap.

“And why has controversy suddenly become so attractive?” she asked and turned up the light. It went very quiet, and Anna could now see Dr. Tybjerg’s face clearly. He was smiling.

“It sells tickets,” Anna said. “It sells newspapers, it sells journals, and the pressure for profit also affects highly respected journals such as Science and Scientific Today, which increasingly regard the degree of controversy as their basis for selecting which papers to print, while ignoring the quality of those papers. Dinosaurs are ‘sexy,’ and the question of what became of them is glamorous. In the controversy surrounding the origin of birds, it seems to have created a co-dependent relationship between the opposition and the media, where each party needs the conflict because it sells, even though it means that an expert, such as Professor Freeman, is forced to defend a scientific position that is ultimately indefensible.” Anna found Karen’s admiring gaze in the hall.

“Research grants are awarded by people who also read newspapers and journals and watch television. Big headlines and extensive media coverage can easily give the impression the feud is important. Bitter arguments between highly qualified scientists sell and, in my view, the opposition has exploited that. Publicity leads to media coverage, and media coverage leads to grants. You can think what you like, but you can’t call it science.”

The hall was very quiet.

“Thank you,” Anna said and closed her laptop.

Everyone clapped.

Dr. Tybjerg rose and started examining her. A young professor from the University of Århus assisted him, and an external examiner, also from Århus, took careful notes. Anna wore Helland’s necklace. The questions rained down over her and, at some point, Dr. Tybjerg handed her a box of bones and asked her to account for the evolution of the bird hand compared to the evolution of other pentadactyle hands. Anna answered and looked Dr. Tybjerg straight in the eye. Karen had left the hall to pick up Lily. For God’s sake, it had to be over soon! Suddenly, the door opened and the World’s Most Irritating Detective entered. He looked frazzled and tried not to draw attention to himself. He failed. When he missed a step and stumbled, everyone turned to glare at him. Christ, he was irritating. Anna flushed hot all over and smiled at him.

Dr. Tybjerg said, “Congratulations.”

And, at last, Anna was a biologist.