First, or nothing

One of our Michigan News colleagues, a former journalist and brilliant science writer named Jim Erickson, retired last year. When we asked him what he valued most about the job, what he would miss the most when he left, his answer resonated with all of us.

“I like being the first person to hear about the researcher’s work.”

For him, there was no bigger thrill than speaking directly to the person who made the discovery, shortly after they made said discovery, and before they’d spoken to many others about that discovery.

Former Michigan News writer Jim Erickson took this image of  Great Lakes researcher Casey Godwin after snowmobiling five miles from the shore of Lake Huron’s Saginaw Bay. Godwin’s team had bored through 19 inches of ice to collect this sparkling specimen and to sample the lake water beneath it.

In a word, he liked breaking news. But not just any news. He liked breaking good news.

And he’s not alone. The writers on our team chase down researchers every day, seeking to share the most groundbreaking, exciting, innovative, and life-changing developments with the media and the public. At Michigan News, we meet the people who actually understand quantum physics, who can develop autonomous transportation systems, who can prevent disease and save lives. Every day, we encounter scholars and geniuses who solve seemingly intractable problems, create complex systems, and clear a path toward a better world.

There is no more satisfying job for the curious person who likes to learn. We may not be researchers ourselves, but make no mistake: We are big fans.

So, it’s hard not to panic when the government starts slashing federal support for new knowledge creation.

It’s not just about the lost funding. It’s not just about the lost jobs. It’s about our lost intellectual capacity as a nation. It feels as though we’ve crossed into an unfathomable crisis of curiosity. Is no one interested in learning anything anymore? Have we run out of questions? Is the pursuit of new knowledge so unnecessary that, as a society, we deem it unworthy of our support?

Making time

Knowledge doesn’t exist unto itself. It is created at research universities like U-M.

Henry Philip Tappan served as the University’s first president from 1852-63. He firmly embraced the zeal for knowledge creation when he spearheaded construction of the Detroit Observatory, which opened in 1854. Tappan wasn’t just a moony stargazer. He knew a great observatory would embody his ambition for the school — not only to cultivate young minds but to explore and expand all realms of knowledge.

Luckily, the naysayers and anti-intellectual bureaucrats who failed to envision Tappan’s higher purpose could not stop him. His detractors did eventually fire him in 1863, on Commencement Day. But before he was ousted, Tappan delivered huge benefits to society.

You see, our first president had acquired a high-powered telescope that would anchor the scientific curriculum so essential to a budding research university. (He also hired the expert who knew how it worked.) Tappan, more than most, could foresee the practical application of research and how it could change the world.

He knew the observatory would provide the state’s railroads with a commodity essential to preventing wrecks and delays: precise measurement of the time.

Let that sink in a moment: U-M helped facilitate precise measurement of the time.

Imagine being the one to break that good news.
 
 
(Lead image of the Observatory courtesy of the Bentley Historical Library. It is speculated the person in the shot is Tappan with his dog.)