"Cosmos" and Sagan did not disappoint viewers' desires for a serious discussion of science and astronomy from a person so qualified to offer one. Indeed, a fair criticism of "Cosmos" is that the scientific material presented—the theory of relativity, the lives of the stars, the conjecture of a fourth dimension—was too difficult for television discussion. Nonetheless, Sagan's skill as a teacher, as someone able to make the complex understandable, was always evident. It is doubtful that viewers could learn more about science in 13 hours than they did from "Cosmos." This is the triumph of the series, and Sagan's performance is far superior to the travelogue narrations of many science-nature shows….

While "Cosmos" succeeds where other programs have failed or bored, Sagan's own ambitions exceed those of the conventional teacher of science, the conveyor of facts and method. Sagan seeks to make science not only understandable, but also popular. For the latter task, television is a convenient means, and cynics may see "Cosmos" as a spectacular commercial for NASA or the "thinking person's" antidote to the banalities of network programming. Indeed, political intention—Sagan laments America's paltry space budget—and a certain intellectual arrogance do underlie the series, but the pervading tone is an optimistic populism….

This populism suggests a public receptivity to discussion of the wonders of the universe and the possibilities of science. But while Sagan's erudition flatters his audience—little did we know we could learn so much—the "Cosmos" series is actually predicated on a pessimistic appraisal of public understanding of the ways of nature and public commitment to modern science….

More accurately, the series represents Sagan's effort to explain the perspective of the universe provided by modern science. If we have grown distant from the cosmos, it is because we have strayed from science and what it can tell us about nature and man. Sagan is concerned but undaunted. Behind public confusion about what science means and public doubt about what it promises, Sagan sees a potentially receptive audience. He realizes that overcoming public confusion and doubt requires something more than an updated account of what scientists "know" and can "do." To make science popular and an object of public commitment, Sagan sees the need to present the cosmology of science, the way science "understands" the universe and the meaning of that understanding for the human condition. (p. 91)

A substantial portion of the series ["Cosmos"] is devoted to distinguishing the methodology and findings of real science from magic, religion, and other forms of speculation. Sagan skillfully presents the mysteries of the universe and shows science's ability to explain them. But presentation of scientific insight into the workings of nature does not necessarily convey a "cosmic perspective"; and neither necessarily qualifies as a philosophical and social justification of the scientific enterprise. But justifying modern science, which is Sagan's paramount purpose in "Cosmos," is the most efficacious means of popularizing it. The series as a whole thus possesses a purpose and grandeur greater than any one of its segments. But, to the viewer, the uniqueness of Sagan's view—his conclusion that science provides the means to transcend the human condition—and the specifics of his argument are initially difficult to ascertain.

On the surface, "Cosmos" seems to be an eclectic collection of 13 scientific and historical vignettes addressing themes and forwarding positions associated with Bronowski, Koestler, Eiseley, and Von Daniken. While extricating himself from Von Daniken's more outrageous fancies, Sagan is captivated by the possibility of extraterrestrial life and its revolutionary implications for our science and philosophy. Less romantic, if not less prosaic, than Eiseley and Koestler, Sagan speaks about the universe with their same reverence and implies that science is the key to the kingdom of true knowledge. More specific than Bronowski on science's cultural ramifications, Sagan shares his optimism for a society which vigorously pursues the scientific enterprise. Regarding contemporary society, Sagan echoes the sentiments of a host of commentators who bemoan the existence of oppression, warfare, famine, the sterility of contemporary culture, and the persistence of unenlightened opinion. But Sagan's claim that science, rather than religion, traditional philosophy, or politics, is the path to redemption seems, like those of many would-be reformers, an overly simplistic and unsubstantiated solution to the ills of the day.

Teaching the lesson that science will enable man to transcend the human condition is the primary goal of the series. From a scientist of Sagan's stature, it is not too much to expect an argument with clearly articulated assumptions and carefully justified conclusions. "Cosmos" suffers in this regard, illuminating the difficulties of making a philosophic argument in a long television series, where viewers exercise selective perception and possess varied levels of understanding. The elusiveness of specifics in Sagan's argument also reflects the structure and organization of the series itself, in particular Sagan's decision to dramatize not only how real science works but what science means for man. To confuse matters further, Sagan is not averse to resorting to simplistic negative arguments at the expense of detailing his own position. A variety of thinkers, from Plato to the medieval scholastics to contemporary theologians, are portrayed as intellectual impediments to enlightenment and progress.

Sagan's dramatizations, his use of stunning visuals ("to engage the heart as well as the mind") and historical skits, are not without substantive components. But they tend to accentuate his conclusion rather than highlight his assumptions. To the extent that the viewer gets caught up in the drama, he finds himself tempted to accept Sagan's conclusion without being precisely certain why. For example, the segments on comets and the lives of the stars reveal some of the wonders of the universe and how modern science has demystified some of the more perplexing questions about nature. These discussions are masterpieces of science education, but Sagan is not content simply to demonstrate science's considerable ability to explain natural phenomena. A subtheme, never clearly stated, is fear: man ought to fear a universe in which comets collide with planets and suns burn out. The scientific impulse emanates, Sagan hints, from man's fear of a universe which he does not totally understand or control. Man ought to pursue a science which protects him.

The tone and emphasis of the argument shift in the discussions of Mars and Venus. Here, Sagan shows that science has succeeded in repudiating the irrational, erroneous, and arrogant assertions of religion and traditional philosophy. Science offers intellectual progress; and in terms of explaining the atmosphere of Venus and the "canals" of Mars, it surely does. But Sagan seems to force the viewer into making a distinct choice between a progressive science and non-progressive philosophy or religion as ways for understanding reality. The argument to reject religion or philosophy because of their scientific shortcomings is as old as it is naive and does not enlighten us about science's meaning for man.

Sagan devotes a considerable amount of time to intellectual and biographical sketches of some of the key figures in the history of science. In these segments, we see how scientists have labored, against all odds, to advance man's knowledge of the universe. If the viewer forgets that Kepler was as much an occultist as a physicist, that Newton refused to extricate the Deity from his own cosmology, that Einstein's scientific brilliance was matched by his confusion about the technological implications of his discoveries, one does remember Sagan's more general point. Scientists have always been forward-looking intellectuals who dared conventional belief, even in the face of public derision and persecution. Historically, scientists are the "good guys" in the progress of Western civilization. But Sagan tells us less about the history of science and more about historical figures who ought to be canonized by a people committed to human excellence and progress.

This overly simple historical interpretation is carried to an embarrassing extreme when Sagan projects our future contact with advanced extraterrestrial beings. Since these beings will be superior scientists, we have nothing to fear. As long as mankind demonstrates its respect for knowledge, our contact with extraterrestrials will be marked by mutual respect and entail an interplanetary cultural vibrancy. Man's history teaches us that scientists respect intellectual change and one another. Despite Sagan's interesting discussion of different biologies and life forms, he falls victim to the anthropomorphism he otherwise critiques by assuming that extraterrestrial scientists will be like their human counterparts. This assertion is, however, quite consistent with, and reinforces, his conclusion in the last segment of the series. The answer to the question "Who Speaks for Earth?" is the scientist. The scientist is the exalted pursuer of knowledge and the witness for the paramount values and aspirations of mankind and, for that matter, any rational species. If Sagan himself cannot convince us of science's overwhelming virtue and cosmological significance, he implies that the existence of superior extraterrestrials will. He invokes Pascal's wager with a modern twist.

The dramatic, self-fulfilling quality of "Cosmos" does not mean that there is not a serious argument presented in the series. In fact, each segment is part of Sagan's larger, more direct analysis of the meaning of science for man. For viewers familiar with Sagan's bestselling books—The Dragons of Eden, The Cosmic Connection, Broca's Brain—and sympathetic to his cause, the dramatics of "Cosmos" appear to be a stroke of genius. For those less familiar and less convinced, "Cosmos" seems propagandistic, if for no other reason than that Sagan's argument is disorganized. But there is a logical argument here, more readily understood when one realizes that the 13 segments of "Cosmos" deal with four basic topics: the powers and mysteries of nature; man and nature; science's cultural and social benefits; and projections of man's scientific future. (pp. 93-4)

For the faithful and attentive viewer who seeks to understand Sagan's "cosmic perspective," the series is a disappointment. The viewer is required to piece together Sagan's comprehensive justification of the scientific enterprise by weeding through the visuals and dramatizations and re-arranging the essentials of Sagan's argument. This organizational problem of the series may be the result of Sagan's overambition, his desire to make science understandable and popular, interesting and entertaining, as well as justifiable in a profound philosophical sense. If this is the case, some of the confusion and disorganization of "Cosmos" is excusable. But "Cosmos" then fails at its most serious and, according to Sagan, important level. It fails because Sagan does not overcome the difficulties of interfacing an argument of the utmost seriousness with the attempt to respond and appeal to popular values, expectations, and fancies about the future. The specifics of Sagan's argument to justify the scientific enterprise compete with the other dimensions of the series—Sagan's desire to raise viewers' curiosity about nature and how science works, his own cooptation of popular themes of science fiction and speculation for his purposes, and the use of drama and dramatic generalization as a teaching device.

"Cosmos" disappoints for reasons less excusable than over-ambition and disorganization. Sagan's explication of the "cosmic perspective" offered by modern science sounds terribly familiar. It ought to; essentially, it is an updated version of natural Darwinism extended, as it was a century ago, to society. What saves, or ought to save, "Cosmos" from triviality is its updated quality. But here, too, it disappoints, because Sagan decided not to highlight and detail two of the most important elements of his argument, the concept of artificial selection and the notion of the triune brain. And, most inexcusably, Sagan neither mentions any of the traditional criticisms of science as a philosophical and social activity nor addresses his argument specifically to these criticisms.

While Sagan explains how science is progressive, based on hypotheses which may later prove to be incomplete or false, he does not discuss the ultimate philosophical status of this potentially false knowledge. Sagan puts himself in the unenviable position of making an argument from scientific authority while implying that today's science may be overturned by tomorrow's advances. He praises science's ability to control nature and offer material advance; yet he extricates science from its contributions to the debasement of nature and its encouragement, directly or indirectly, of a materialist social ethic. Science offers man the comforts of a technologically advanced society; Sagan does not care to state that technological societies are industrialized societies, organized along bureaucratic lines. Although lamenting the "bureaucratic mentality" and claiming that religion and politics reenforce this stifling, potentially destructive mind-set, Sagan admits no connection between science, technology, and bureaucracy. Science, we are told, helps man overcome the debilitations of followership. How this works in practice, for society as a whole, is apparently a yet to be explored mystery.

Above all, science enables man to adapt to his environment, and this capability is the most compelling aspect of Sagan's argument. Through science, man can practice artificial selection to transform nature and the environment to meet his needs and attain his goals. The ultimate example of artifical selection is the science of adaptation applied to the human species itself. Genetic engineering, a logical extrapolation of the scientific impulse, poses serious problems for man, admits Sagan. But he does not explain how either science or his "cosmic perspective" helps resolve moral problems other than through experience and experiment. This is particularly disturbing because Sagan suggests frequently that science is superior to any other existing philosophy or value system. However, when faced with answering the question, what ought to guide man's pursuit of science or, more properly, progressive adaptation, Sagan is silent.

This dilemma is presumably resolved if one understands the "cosmic perspective" and the substance of science. The study of the development and structure of the human brain reveals, says Sagan, the fact that science emanates from the brain's most evolutionary advanced component, the neocortex. The neocortex developed as the species dealt with the challenges of the environment to the extent that "reason" replaced biological impulse as the most efficacious means of survival. Instinct and impulse still exist in man, and irrationality marks much of human activity. This behavior, the product of the primordial parts of the brain, the R-complex and the limbic system, manifests itself in political conflicts, social strife, and psychological confusion. Science, according to Sagan, is dissociated from human foible. Moreover, if man continues to pursue an understanding of nature—to exercise his rational faculties—through space exploration, it follows that the debilitating elements of his physiology will become extraneous. The human practice of science results in an improved adaptation of the species and biological development to a more advanced life form. The problems of humanity, the tensions and conflicts in humans and between them, will be left behind. In biological terms, science is our cosmic destiny and the means to transcend the human condition.

Sagan's interpretation of the notion of the triune brain has been criticized as simplistic. Nonetheless, it is the key to Sagan's most important and probably best argument. What is disturbing is that he really does not elaborate on it in "Cosmos" and prefers to talk more about the stars and the exciting future of space exploration. One may assume that Sagan wants to avoid simply repeating his more detailed discussion of the triune brain in The Dragons of Eden. This is unlikely since, in substantive terms, "Cosmos" is not much more than a summary of his popular writings. Sagan does not highlight his argument about evolution in "Cosmos," one suspects, because the viewer would thus be moved to ask, what about the meantime? How does man conduct himself today, pursuing science and technology but still under the influence of the problematic aspects of the brain?

Sagan says that he has an answer—the scientific method applied by and on society. Yet, his failure to detail what this means and inability to focus on crucial aspects of his justification for the scientific enterprise indicate an uncharacteristic uncertainty and ultimate honesty in Sagan the spokesman for science. It is reasonable to assume that Sagan knows that as a philosophical treatise on the meaning of science for the human condition, "Cosmos" is trivial. As a blueprint for a society which would vigorously pursue the scientific enterprise, "Cosmos" is embarrassingly incomplete. Sagan, then, is either frighteningly naive—indeed, "Cosmos" does resemble a piece of "social science fiction"—or guilty of duplicity—"Cosmos" does not, as Sagan claims it would, explain the cosmic perspective of science.

Such criticism may be too harsh and cynical. As a television series, "Cosmos" is refreshing, stimulating, entertaining, and educational. It is not a typical philosophic exhortation. Perhaps "Cosmos" is meant to be understood not as a treatise on science but as a parable about science, man, and the human condition. Sagan and "Cosmos" teach the lesson that, all things considered in this difficult world, science is a praiseworthy pursuit and deserves our affection and commitment. The viewer has the prerogative of examining the meaning and depth of this teaching, of joining Sagan in the quest to understand the universe and science's relevance for man. The problem with teaching through parables, however, is that most people take them at face value and do not understand, or soon forget, their meaning. This is a lesson Sagan may soon learn. (pp. 94-5)