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Sorry for the super long post title today!

Back before Europeans came across Australia, the general notion was that all swans were white.  After all, every swan that had ever been seen and recorded by European eyes was white!  It therefore seemed a logical assumption to make.

Australia’s Black Swan (Cygnus atratus)

Of course, if you’ve ever been to Oz, you know that Australian Swans are black.  What does this prove (or disprove)?

I know it seems like I’m talking about swans, but what I’m really talking about is science.  How?! you ask!

The common notion is that science exists to prove hypotheses, when it is much closer to reality to say that science exists to disprove hypotheses.  For example, how could you really prove that all swans are white?  It is much easier to disprove it…all you need to do is find ONE black swan.

Similarly, with other types of studies, it is easier to disprove something than to prove something.  This is where null hypotheses come into play.  Null hypotheses are essentially the straw man that scientists try to knock down.  For example, they start with the hypothesis that there is no difference in the average height between men and women, and then disprove it.  (The terminology here is “rejecting” the null hypothesis.)  This suggests that there IS a difference between the average height of males and females.

This kind of scientific method is based on falsifiability, touted by Karl Popper (1902-1994), one of the greatest philosophers of science.

But wait, standingoutinmyfield, you cry!  What makes black swans black?

Melanin, of course!

The Swan

Across the wide waters
something comes
floating—a slim
and delicate

ship, filled
with white flowers—
and it moves
on its miraculous muscles

as though time didn’t exist,
as though bringing such gifts
to the dry shore
was a happiness

almost beyond bearing.
And now it turns its dark eyes,
it rearranges
the clouds of its wings,

it trails
an elaborate webbed foot,
the color of charcoal.
Soon it will be here.

Oh, what shall I do
when that poppy-colored beak
rests in my hand?
Said Mrs. Blake of the poet:

I miss my husband’s company—
he is so often
in paradise.
Of course! the path to heaven

doesn’t lie down in flat miles.
It’s in the imagination
with which you perceive
this world,

and the gestures
with which you honor it.
Oh, what will I do, what will I say, when those
white wings
touch the shore?

- Mary Oliver

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