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A review by florisw
Firmament: The Hidden Science of Weather, Climate Change and the Air That Surrounds Us by Simon Clark
2.0
I’ve been a long-time fan of Simon Clark’s YouTube channel. I think he’s an excellent communicator, being able to boil down complicated but also very relevant topics into funny and engaging 10-20 minute explainers. He’s also not shy about incorporating popular, gaming, and fantasy culture in his Sci-Comm work, which I greatly appreciate. A lot of that wit and engaging tone is transferred to this book-length explainer of atmospheric science and its history. In fact, Firmament chapters read a little bit like extended YouTube videos. Yes, there are some clever throwbacks woven through them, but ultimately they work as nine standalone stories. At times, the jokes felt a bit weak, like they were missing a funny graphic to hit home, or a trademark whisper into the clip-on mic. But overall, the easy pace and tone of the book makes it as easy to read as binging his videos is.
However: it is not a book for me. The main reason for this is the fact that the stories about the history of this science – pretty much half of the book – are incredibly simplistic. The positivistic framing of this history is sometimes cringeworthy, as yet another individual is described as having revolutionised the way meteorology is done, getting one step closer to the truth that we know today. Clark may say that the history of climate science is a global one, but including two Japanese scientists amongst a swathe of your standard white men from Europe or North America does not convince me of this. All these men (and one or two women) are usually introduced as been “brave”, “pioneering”, “brilliant”, “remarkable”, “ingenious”, who alone make “great discoveries” and inventions to advance the field of meteorology. With “one foot in the past and another in a future that few others could see”, our understandings of the atmosphere apparently take “great leaps forward” because of them.
What irks me the most is the way Clark treats the discipline of history. He is clearly aware of the limits of his expertise: “As I am a physicist by training, not a biologist, I will simple say here…” (33); “I don’t want to go into much more detail on oceans and their dynamics, partly because it is not my area of expertise,…” (95). Yet he doesn’t seem to think twice about making sweeping remarks about the history of science which sometimes goes counter to what historians have written on a certain topic. I am certainly not trying to gatekeep here – I don’t think Clark is trespassing in an area where he shouldn’t be. In fact, I’m glad to see he spent so much time on it in a book like this. But in choosing to base his story on the types of sources he does, and not engaging with thoughtful historical work (and I don’t mean Brian Fagan, whom he quotes at a certain point), he is telling a story that in my opinion is old-fashioned and downright misleading. Why is biology treated as a field a physicist can’t enter without permission, but history is apparently open for anyone to waltz in and just “tell it like it was”?
There are a few bright spots in his historical narrative. He notes how much scientific work in the early modern period relied on the activities of European nations and their colonies, making science inextricable from factors like the slave trade, colonial oppression, and social-Darwinist politics. He rightfully recognises the “debt” that modern science bears with to these activities (76). Another example is his recognition of the way scientific institutionalisation marginalised women and people of colour. A passage on Eunice Foote and women in science since the Enlightenment is particularly good. His references to colonial violence or social inequality are welcome not only for the way they help counter traditional narratives of scientific exceptionalism (ones which he unfortunately also helps perpetuate), but also just provide more richness and context to the developments he talks about.
I want to clarify that for most people, this will easily be a 3+/5 book. My Goodreads score just reflects how the book resonated with me.
However: it is not a book for me. The main reason for this is the fact that the stories about the history of this science – pretty much half of the book – are incredibly simplistic. The positivistic framing of this history is sometimes cringeworthy, as yet another individual is described as having revolutionised the way meteorology is done, getting one step closer to the truth that we know today. Clark may say that the history of climate science is a global one, but including two Japanese scientists amongst a swathe of your standard white men from Europe or North America does not convince me of this. All these men (and one or two women) are usually introduced as been “brave”, “pioneering”, “brilliant”, “remarkable”, “ingenious”, who alone make “great discoveries” and inventions to advance the field of meteorology. With “one foot in the past and another in a future that few others could see”, our understandings of the atmosphere apparently take “great leaps forward” because of them.
What irks me the most is the way Clark treats the discipline of history. He is clearly aware of the limits of his expertise: “As I am a physicist by training, not a biologist, I will simple say here…” (33); “I don’t want to go into much more detail on oceans and their dynamics, partly because it is not my area of expertise,…” (95). Yet he doesn’t seem to think twice about making sweeping remarks about the history of science which sometimes goes counter to what historians have written on a certain topic. I am certainly not trying to gatekeep here – I don’t think Clark is trespassing in an area where he shouldn’t be. In fact, I’m glad to see he spent so much time on it in a book like this. But in choosing to base his story on the types of sources he does, and not engaging with thoughtful historical work (and I don’t mean Brian Fagan, whom he quotes at a certain point), he is telling a story that in my opinion is old-fashioned and downright misleading. Why is biology treated as a field a physicist can’t enter without permission, but history is apparently open for anyone to waltz in and just “tell it like it was”?
There are a few bright spots in his historical narrative. He notes how much scientific work in the early modern period relied on the activities of European nations and their colonies, making science inextricable from factors like the slave trade, colonial oppression, and social-Darwinist politics. He rightfully recognises the “debt” that modern science bears with to these activities (76). Another example is his recognition of the way scientific institutionalisation marginalised women and people of colour. A passage on Eunice Foote and women in science since the Enlightenment is particularly good. His references to colonial violence or social inequality are welcome not only for the way they help counter traditional narratives of scientific exceptionalism (ones which he unfortunately also helps perpetuate), but also just provide more richness and context to the developments he talks about.
I want to clarify that for most people, this will easily be a 3+/5 book. My Goodreads score just reflects how the book resonated with me.