THE Institute for
Foundational Questions would be a good title for the research wing
of the C of E's Theological Action Force, if only we could afford
such a thing. In fact, it is the body directed by one of the expert
guests invited to share their insights on Dara Ó Briain's
Science Club (BBC2, Thursday of last week). The foundational
question being considered was: what took place in the period after
the Big Bang, in which the first atoms became the first stars?
There is a nice theological resonance: it is the moment when light
first appears in our universe. No one, alas, thought of referring
to the prologue of St John's Gospel.
I found the current work
on filling this gap - something to do with hydrogen atoms clumping
together - less compelling than the research tool with which the
work is being done: a field in Hampshire, full of radio antennae.
It is only one of dozens of such fields throughout the continent,
linked to a central computer. Together, they add up to a telescope
the size of Europe.
This weekly magazine has
too many snippets: interesting issues are opened up without enough
space to develop them. Worst of all, it observes the current TV
documentary dogma of avoiding diagrams at all costs. But, overall,
this is an admirable series. Ó Briain is a genial host, and never
allows his jokes to overbalance the object of the programme, which
is to make contemporary science accessible.
One champion of
contemporary technology who took me by surprise was the subject of
Churchill's First World War (BBC4, Tuesday of last week).
In 1914, he was First Lord of the Admiralty, but his enthusiasm for
emulating the genius of his ancestor Marlborough led to the
disaster of Gallipoli. He sought to redeem himself as an infantry
officer in the trenches, but made his really positive contribution
when recalled by Lloyd George as minister in charge of munitions.
He insisted that the future lay with tanks and armour, and he
ensured that the Allies had all that was needed.
As usual, in this
docudrama the reconstructions undercut both the impact of
contemporary images and the central evidence of the remarkable
daily correspondence between Churchill and his beloved wife,
Clementine. This was frank, open, and tender - and by no means
one-sided: she played a crucial part in the development of his
career, and, perhaps more importantly, his self-knowledge.
Hebrides: Islands on
the edge (BBC2, Thursday of last week) has been an
extraordinarily beautiful nature documentary series, exploring in
its final programme the relationship between wildlife and
humankind, pointing out that this most remote landscape is in fact
the product of thousands of years of cultivation. After centuries
of decline, numbers of species are expanding, with spectacular
results; but, of course, the traditional human activities of
fishing and crofting have greatly diminished.
A growth in tourism is providing income, based on careful
husbandry of natural species, which is what the tourists come to
see. The programme ended on this upbeat note - but my own morality
considers that providing a service for monied tourists hardly
counts as genuinely worthwhile human endeavour, in comparison with
the crofters' harsh but essential provision of the necessities of
life.