By 
Writing“Who knows? Who can say that these desolate regions hold no resources that might one day be exploited? Who, above all, can assert that the observations and discoveries made there will not prove fruitful for science, or bring benefits to man’s conquest of the forces of nature? Might we not suppose, for instance, that studies made where the axis of the world passes will yield knowledge of the laws, if not of the very principle, of terrestrial magnetism?
And besides, what if polar expeditions had no practical use? Would that make them pointless? To think so would be to deny pure science, science for its own sake, which pursues truth wherever its investigations may lead, without knowing whether humanity will profit from it. Are we, then, to dismiss as vain and superfluous the work of astronomy, which plunges into expanses whose immensity we can scarcely conceive, measures them from its tiny terrestrial base, and shows man so small, yet makes him so great!”
Paul Doumer, preface to Jean-Baptiste Charcot, Le Pourquoi-Pas ? dans l’Antarctique.
Journal de la deuxième expédition française au pôle Sud (1908–1910), Paris, Ernest Flammarion, 1910.
Between the Lines…
In 1910, Antarctica was not yet the protected continent we know today. It was a vast white expanse, still imperfectly mapped, over which nations were vying for control. The great powers were then caught up in what would later become known as the Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration.
In his preface, Paul Doumer captures something of the collective imagination of his time: that of a humanity determined to wrest truths from the unknown and master the forces of nature. His words reflect the mindset of an era torn between the ideal of knowledge and the promise of greatness.
