From Columbus's Eclipse to the Modern Devaluing of Science
By Darrell Lee
The annals of exploration are replete with tales of ingenuity and daring. Few illustrate the power of knowledge and its deliberate manipulation, as Christopher Columbus's encounter with the indigenous Arawak people in Jamaica in 1504. Stranded and with dwindling supplies and facing starvation, Columbus, armed with foreknowledge of an impending lunar eclipse forecast in an astronomical almanac, warned the reluctant Arawak chiefs that his god would extinguish the moon, turning it red, as a sign of displeasure if provisions were not forthcoming. When the moon vanished into Earth's shadow as predicted and turned a coppery red, terror seized the Arawak, who hastily complied.
Columbus did not command the heavens; he merely possessed a sliver of insight unavailable to his audience and weaponized this information to force compliance. This historical account, a demonstration of knowledge withheld becoming power wielded, serves as a prologue to a modern drama. The devaluing and deliberate curtailment of scientific research and progress in the United States, particularly in an era marked by fierce geopolitical competition with China. Columbus orchestrated a temporary, localized eclipse of understanding for immediate gain. What are the implications when our society risks a lasting twilight of its scientific advancement through policy or induced skepticism, especially when rivals aggressively pursue their scientific development? Could external forces ever seek to subtly encourage such an eclipse within our nation by exploiting pre-existing societal divides?
Columbus's gambit in Jamaica was a masterclass in psychological leverage. He did not need supernatural power, merely a superior understanding of celestial mechanics relative to those he sought to exploit. By camouflaging a natural phenomenon as a manifestation of his god's wrath, he transformed scientific data into an instrument of fear and control. The Arawak were not inherently ignorant; they possessed their complex understanding of the world. However, in that specific moment, Columbus held a decisive informational advantage on that particular subject, which he exploited. The episode underscores a timeless principle that the American public needs to understand: power dynamics are linked to the possession, interpretation, and dissemination (or withholding) of knowledge. A population kept in the dark, whether about the movements of the moon or the principles of science, becomes more susceptible to manipulation and less capable of autonomous, informed decision-making.
Fast forward to the 21st century, and consider the complexities of science policy within the United States, particularly during periods marked by populism and skepticism towards established expertise, such as that seen during and from the Trump administration. While direct parallels to Columbus's overt deception are imperfect, a pattern of actions and rhetoric that could collectively lead to a "dimming" of scientific enterprise warrants examination. Cuts to federal funding for research, the downplaying of scientific consensus on critical issues like climate change or public health, the questioning of established scientific institutions, and appointments to key scientific oversight roles that prioritize political loyalty over expertise in the scientific area they control can all contribute to an environment where scientific progress is hindered and public trust in science is eroded.
The stated motivations behind such policies often include fiscal conservatism, a desire to reduce government bureaucracy (as championed by initiatives like Elon Musk's role in the Department of Government Efficiency within a Trump administration, scrutinizing NASA's budget and operations), or an ideological preference for applied research with immediate economic benefits over curiosity-driven science. Regardless of intent, the cumulative effect can weaken our nation's scientific infrastructure, chill innovation, and reduce capacity to address complex future challenges. A society that deliberately or inadvertently curtails its investment in understanding the "stars", be they celestial or the forces of nature and technology, risks a self-imposed intellectual vulnerability.
This dynamic becomes critical against geopolitical competition, particularly with China. Beijing has made no secret of its ambition to become a global leader in science and technology by mid-century, backing this ambition with colossal state-led investments in fields like artificial intelligence, quantum computing, biotechnology, advanced materials, and space exploration. China actively recruits global talent, builds world-class research facilities, and strategically aligns scientific pursuits with national economic and military goals. If the United States, historically a global engine of scientific discovery, chooses a path of reduced investment and diminished emphasis on scientific expertise, while at the same time, China is accelerating its efforts, the long-term consequences for global power balances could be irreversible. Ceding leadership in scientific research and cutting-edge technological development is not merely an academic concern; it directly impacts economic competitiveness, national security, and our nation's ability to shape the future. The "eclipse" in this scenario is not of the moon, but of our nation's capacity to innovate and lead, leaving it strategically disadvantaged.
This brings us to the most speculative dimension of the comparison. Could a strategic rival like China or Russia, observing these trends, seek to subtly influence or aggravate an anti-science or science-reductionist turn within the United States? This is not to suggest a crude, easily detectable conspiracy, but rather to explore the vulnerabilities domestic divisions might present to sophisticated foreign influence operations. History is rampant with examples of nations seeking to undermine rivals through non-military means, including propaganda and exploiting internal societal divisions.
Consider the historical (and to some extent, contemporary) presence of anti-science sentiment within specific segments of the American population, including some elements of Trump's religious base. This skepticism, often rooted in beliefs or interpretations of biblical scripture, can manifest as opposition to evolutionary theory, climate science, or specific public health measures. Additionally, certain political actors or factions, mainly within the Republican party leadership, may perceive a personal political or social influence advantage in fostering or maintaining a degree of scientific ignorance among their constituents on specific issues. For example, downplaying the scientific consensus on climate change can align with short-term economic interests in fossil fuels or serve to rally a base against regulatory measures perceived as liberal overreach. Similarly, casting doubt on areas of biomedical research like stem cell science can appeal to religious viewpoints, solidifying political support even if it contradicts established scientific understanding. The same can be said for vaccines. In such scenarios, an electorate less engaged with or skeptical of scientific findings might be receptive to politically convenient narratives and less likely to demand policies grounded in scientific evidence, particularly if those policies challenge existing industries, ideological commitments, or a leader's social influence, either at the local level or nationally.
Understanding these pre-existing fault lines and domestic political incentives, a foreign adversary may engage in highly deniable, indirect disinformation operations designed to amplify these sentiments. This could involve using social media, front organizations, or the subtle promotion of narratives that frame scientific institutions as elitist, untrustworthy, or hostile to traditional values. The aim would not be to create anti-science views out of whole cloth, but to pour fuel on existing embers, thereby encouraging domestic political movements that might advocate for policies, such as science budget cuts or the de-prioritization of specific research fields, that inadvertently align with the rival's strategic interests by weakening the US.
Attributing specific US policy decisions solely or even primarily to such hypothetical foreign influence would be speculation and lack public, verifiable evidence. Domestic political ideologies, economic pressures, and genuine philosophical disagreements about the role of government and science are far more direct and demonstrable drivers. However, in a globalized information environment, the potential for sophisticated state actors to subtly manipulate public policy and heighten existing internal US divisions to their strategic advantage cannot be dismissed. If a rival nation perceives that fostering an anti-science climate within its competitor could slow that competitor's technological progress and economic vitality, the incentive for such covert encouragement exists. The challenge lies in distinguishing organic domestic trends from those nudged or amplified by forces outside the US, especially when those forces operate through the opaque channels of digital information networks.
A self-inflicted vulnerability is the ultimate consequence of a society turning away from robust scientific inquiry, whether due to internal ideological shifts, fiscal austerity, calculated political strategy, or the subtle plots of foreign governments. It mirrors, on a societal scale, the predicament the Arawak found themselves in, a state of diminished understanding, less able to comprehend the forces shaping their world, and making them susceptible to those who wield knowledge as an instrument of power. How could the knowledge of celestial mechanics changed the Arawak's future? They would have recognized Columbus as the adversary he was. After Columbus's ruse failed, they could have simply allowed Columbus and his men to starve to death and rid themselves of the invaders. Instead, the Arawak people, including those Columbus encountered in Jamaica and other parts of the Caribbean, were subjected to enslavement, brutal treatment, and violence by European explorers and colonizers, including Columbus and his men. Europeans quickly established systems of forced labor to exploit the indigenous populations for gold mining and agriculture. The Arawak, like many other indigenous groups in the Americas, suffered catastrophic population declines. In an age where economic strength, national security, and the ability to solve global challenges (from pandemics to climate change to resource scarcity) are increasingly dependent on scientific and technological prowess, a deliberate or inadvertent "eclipsing" of a nation's scientific enterprise is a dangerous path.
A nation's retreat from scientific leadership has far more damaging consequences. It risks not just falling behind a competitor like China, but also forfeiting the tools needed to address future crises, the innovations that drive economic prosperity, and the spirit of inquiry that defines a vibrant and forward-looking society. The debates surrounding NASA's budget, the role of figures like Elon Musk and Robert F. Kennedy Jr. in shaping government policy (impacting science funding), and the broader societal trust in scientific institutions are not merely domestic squabbles. They occur within a global context where technological and scientific supremacy is a key arena of competition.
The lesson from Columbus is that knowledge is power, but ignorance, whether imposed by deception or cultivated by choice, breeds vulnerability. While no verifiable evidence suggests China or Russia are directly manipulating specific religious groups within the US to slash science budgets, any domestic movement that leads to an erosion of America's scientific capabilities would undoubtedly be viewed as strategically advantageous by them and other global competitors. The most potent defense against such vulnerabilities, whether from internal skepticism or the possibility of external manipulation, is a renewed commitment to scientific inquiry, critical thinking, public education, and sustained investment in scientific research and development.
Ensuring that the "light" of science is not deliberately dimmed by short-sighted policies, loyalty to a political figure, or clouded by beliefs resistant to evidence is essential. The strength of democratic values and our nation's place in the world depend not on fearing or suppressing knowledge but on fostering its advancement and wisely navigating its implications for all. The alternative is to risk being caught in a calculated twilight, unaware of manipulation and unable to discern the actual shape of the challenges and opportunities ahead, enslavement of one kind or another by those with the knowledge is all but assured.
Darrell Lee is the founder and editor of The Long Views, he has written two science fiction novels exploring themes of technological influence, science and religion, historical patterns, and the future of society. His essays draw on these long-standing interests and apply a similar analytical lens to politics, literature, artistic, societal, and historical events. He splits his time between rural east Texas and Florida’s west coast, where he spends his days performing variable star photometry, dabbling in astrophotography, thinking, napping, fishing, and writing, not necessarily in that order.