Studies in the History of Modern Science – serie

A comprehensive study of German materialism in the second half of the nineteenth century is long overdue. Among contemporary historians the mere passing references to Karl Vogt, Jacob Moleschott, and Ludwig Buchner as materialists and popularizers of science are hardly sufficient, for few individuals influenced public opinion in nineteenth-century Germany more than these men. Buchner, for example, revealed his awareness of the historical significance of his Kraft und Stoff in comments made in 1872, just seventeen years after its original appearance. A philosophical book which has undergone twelve big German editions in the short span of seventeen years, which further has been issued in non-German countries and languages about fifteen to sixteen times in the same period, and whose appearance (although its author was entirely unknown up to then) has called forth an almost unprecedented storm in the press, . . . such a book can be nothing ordinary; the world-calling it enjoys at present must be justified through its wholly special characteristics or by the merits of its form and content. ' Vogt, Moleschott and Buchner explicitly held that their materialism was founded on natural science. But other materialists of the nineteenth century also laid claim to the scientific character of their own thought. It is likely that Marx and Engels would have permitted their brand of materialism to have been called scientific, provided, of course, that 'scientific' was understood in their dialectical meaning of the term. Socialism, Engels maintained, had become a science with Marx.

A comprehensive study of German materialism in the second half of the nineteenth century is long overdue. Among contemporary historians the mere passing references to Karl Vogt, Jacob Moleschott, and Ludwig Buchner as materialists and popularizers of science are hardly sufficient, for few individuals influenced public opinion in nineteenth-century Germany more than these men. Buchner, for example, revealed his awareness of the historical significance of his Kraft und Stoff in comments made in 1872, just seventeen years after its original appearance. A philosophical book which has undergone twelve big German editions in the short span of seventeen years, which further has been issued in non-German countries and languages about fifteen to sixteen times in the same period, and whose appearance (although its author was entirely unknown up to then) has called forth an almost unprecedented storm in the press, . . . such a book can be nothing ordinary; the world-calling it enjoys at present must be justified through its wholly special characteristics or by the merits of its form and content. ' Vogt, Moleschott and Buchner explicitly held that their materialism was founded on natural science. But other materialists of the nineteenth century also laid claim to the scientific character of their own thought. It is likely that Marx and Engels would have permitted their brand of materialism to have been called scientific, provided, of course, that 'scientific' was understood in their dialectical meaning of the term. Socialism, Engels maintained, had become a science with Marx.

by MICHEL FOUCAULT Everyone knows that in France there are few logicians but many historians of science; and that in the 'philosophical establishment' - whether teaching or research oriented - they have occupied a considerable position. But do we know precisely the importance that, in the course of these past fifteen or twenty years, up to the very frontiers of the establishment, a 'work' like that of Georges Canguilhem can have had for those very people who were separ­ ated from, or challenged, the establishment? Yes, I know, there have been noisier theatres: psychoanalysis, Marxism, linguistics, ethnology. But let us not forget this fact which depends, as you will, on the sociology of French intellectual environments, the functioning of our university institutions or our system of cultural values: in all the political or scientific discussions of these strange sixty years past, the role of the 'philosophers' - I simply mean those who had received their university training in philosophy department- has been important: perhaps too important for the liking of certain people. And, directly or indirectly, all or almost all these philosophers have had to 'come to terms with' the teaching and books of Georges Canguilhem. From this, a paradox: this man, whose work is austere, intentionally and carefully limited to a particular domain in the history of science, which in any case does not pass for a spectacular discipline, has somehow found him­ self present in discussions where he himself took care never to figure.

All students of mathematics know of Peano's postulates for the natural numbers and his famous space-filling curve, yet their knowledge often stops there. Part of the reason is that there has not until now been a full-scale study of his life and works. This must surely be surprising, when one realizes the length of his academic career (over 50 years) and the extent of his publica­ tions (over 200) in a wide variety of fields, many of which had immediate and long-term effects on the development of modern mathematics. A study of his life seems long overdue. It appeared to me that the most likely person to write a biography of Peano would be his devoted disciple Ugo Cassina, with whom I studied at the University of Milan in 1957-58. I wrote to Professor Cassina on 29 October, 1963, inquiring if he planned to write the biography, and I offered him my assistance, since I hoped to return to Italy for a year. He replied on 28 November, 1963, suggesting that we collaborate, meaning by this that I would write the biography, in English, using his material and advice. I gladly agreed to this suggestion, but work on the project had hardly begun when Professor Cassina died unexpectedly on 5 October, 1964. I then decided to continue the project on my own. I spent the academic year 1966-67 in Turin; completion of the book took ten years.

All students of mathematics know of Peano's postulates for the natural numbers and his famous space-filling curve, yet their knowledge often stops there. Part of the reason is that there has not until now been a full-scale study of his life and works. This must surely be surprising, when one realizes the length of his academic career (over 50 years) and the extent of his publica­ tions (over 200) in a wide variety of fields, many of which had immediate and long-term effects on the development of modern mathematics. A study of his life seems long overdue. It appeared to me that the most likely person to write a biography of Peano would be his devoted disciple Ugo Cassina, with whom I studied at the University of Milan in 1957-58. I wrote to Professor Cassina on 29 October, 1963, inquiring if he planned to write the biography, and I offered him my assistance, since I hoped to return to Italy for a year. He replied on 28 November, 1963, suggesting that we collaborate, meaning by this thatI would write the biography, in English, using his material and advice. I gladly agreed to this suggestion, but work on the project had hardly begun when Professor Cassina died unexpectedly on 5 October, 1964. I then decided to continue the project on my own. I spent the academic year 1966-67 in Turin; completion of the book took ten years.

Although the World War II efforts to develop nuclear weapons have inspired a very large literature, it struck us as noteworthy that virtually nothing existed in the form of firsthand accounts. Now It Can Be Told, by General Leslie Groves, the Manhattan Project's military commander, is probably the most prominent exception, but the scientists themselves seem to have shown little interest in publishing their reminiscences. Believing that it would be not only worthwhile for posterity, but ex­ tremely interesting for the present generation to hear about the aspirations, fears, and activities of those who participated in this watershed of science and government collaboration, we arranged the public lecture series repre­ sented by this book.! We chose to focus upon Los Alamos since the project's efforts culminated there. The isolated laboratory in New Mexico was created to design and construct the first atomic bombs. More scientific brainpower was accumulated there than at any time since Isaac Newton dined alone, and the interactions with this community are of sociological interest, as the results of their work are of political import.

Although the World War II efforts to develop nuclear weapons have inspired a very large literature, it struck us as noteworthy that virtually nothing existed in the form of firsthand accounts. Now It Can Be Told, by General Leslie Groves, the Manhattan Project's military commander, is probably the most prominent exception, but the scientists themselves seem to have shown little interest in publishing their reminiscences. Believing that it would be not only worthwhile for posterity, but ex­ tremely interesting for the present generation to hear about the aspirations, fears, and activities of those who participated in this watershed of science and government collaboration, we arranged the public lecture series repre­ sented by this book.! We chose to focus upon Los Alamos since the project's efforts culminated there. The isolated laboratory in New Mexico was created to design and construct the first atomic bombs. More scientific brainpower was accumulated there than at any time since Isaac Newton dined alone, and the interactions with this community are of sociological interest, as the results of their work are of political import.

Why should the story of a woman's role in the development of a scientific theory be written? Is it to celebrate, as some have done, the heroism of a woman's struggle in a man's world? Or is it, rather~to demonstrate that gender is irrelevant to the march of scientific ideas? This book hopes to do neither. Rather, it intends to do justice both to the professional life of a woman in science and to the development of the theory with which she was engaged. Technically, this essay centers on Sophie Germain's analysis of the modes of vibration of elastic surfaces, work which won a competition set by the French Academy of Sciences in 1809. It also evaluates related work on the mathematical theory of elasticity done by men of the Academy. Biographically, it is about a woman who believed in the greatness of science and strove, with some measure of success, to participate in that noble, but wholly male-dominated, enterprise. It explores her failures, analyzes her success, and describes how the members of the Parisian scientific community dealt with her offerings, contributions and demands.

Why should the story of a woman's role in the development of a scientific theory be written? Is it to celebrate, as some have done, the heroism of a woman's struggle in a man's world? Or is it, rather~to demonstrate that gender is irrelevant to the march of scientific ideas? This book hopes to do neither. Rather, it intends to do justice both to the professional life of a woman in science and to the development of the theory with which she was engaged. Technically, this essay centers on Sophie Germain's analysis of the modes of vibration of elastic surfaces, work which won a competition set by the French Academy of Sciences in 1809. It also evaluates related work on the mathematical theory of elasticity done by men of the Academy. Biographically, it is about a woman who believed in the greatness of science and strove, with some measure of success, to participate in that noble, but wholly male-dominated, enterprise. It explores her failures, analyzes her success, and describes how the members of the Parisian scientific community dealt with her offerings, contributions and demands.

them in his cheat-preface to Copernicus De Revolutionibus, but the main change in their import has been that whereas Osiander defended Copernicus, Mach and Duhem defended science. The modem conception of hypothetico­ deductive science is, again, geared to defend the respectability of science in much the same way: the physical interpretation, it says, is merely and always hypothetical, and so the scientist is never really committed to it. Hence, when science sheds the physical interpretation off its mathematical skeleton as time and refutation catch up with it, the scientist is not really caught in error, for he never was committed to this interpretation in the first place. This is the apologetic essence of present day, Popper-like, versions of the idea of science as a mathematical-core-cum-interpretational shell. This is also Cohen's view, for it aims to free Newton of any existential commitment to which his theory might allegedly commit him. It will be readily seen that Cohen regards this methodological distinction between mathematics and physics to be the backbone of the Newtonian revolution in science (which is, in its tum, the climax of the whole Scientific Revolution) for a very clear reason: it enables us to argue that Newton could use freely the new concept of centripetal force, even though he did not be­ lieve in physical action at a distance and could not conceive how such a force could act to produce its effects". ([3] pp.

Radio techniques were the nrst to lead astronomy away from the quiescent and limited Universe revealed by traditional observations at optical wave­ lengths. In the earliest days of radio astronomy, a handful of radio physicists and engineers made one startling discovery after another as they opened up the radio sky. With this collection of classic papers and the extensive intro­ ductory material, the reader can experience these exciting discoveries, as well as understand the developing techniques and follow the motivations which prompted the various lines of inquiry. For instance he or she will follow in detail the several attempts to detect radio waves from the sun at the turn of the century; the unravelling by Jansky of a "steady hiss type static"; the incredible story of Reber who built a 9 meter dish in his backyard in 1937 and then mapped the Milky Way; the vital discoveries by Hey and colleagues of radio bursts from the Sun and of a discrete source in the constellation of Cygnus; the development of receivers and interferometry in the post-war years by the groups led by Ryle in Cambridge and Pawsey in Sydney; the nrst measurements and exciting identiftcations of Taurus A (the Crab Nebula), Centaurus A, Virgo A, Cassiopeia A, and Cygnus A, the last opening the neld of radio cosmology; the early development of synchroton theory; and the prediction and discovery seven years later of the 21 cm line of neutral hy­ drogen.

Teleological thinking has been steadfastly resisted by modern biology. And yet, in nearly every area of research biologists are hard pressed to find language that does not impute purposiveness to living forms. The life of the individual organism, if not life itself, seems to make use of a variety of strate gems in achieving its purposes. But in an age when physical models dominate our imagination and when physics itself has become accustomed to uncertainty relations and complementarity, biologists have learned to live with a kind of schizophrenic language, employing terms like 'selfish genes' and 'survival machines' to describe the behavior of organisms as if they were somehow purposive yet all the while intending that they are highly complicated mechanisms. The present study treats a period in the history of the life sciences when the imputation of purposiveness to biological organization was not regarded an embarrassment but rather an accepted fact, and when the principal goal was to reap the benefits of mechanistic explanations by finding a. means of in­ corporating them within the guidelines of a teleological fmmework. Whereas the history of German biology in the early nineteenth century is usually dismissed as an unfortunate era dominated by arid speculation, the present study aims to reverse that judgment by showing that a consistent, workable program of research was elaborated by a well-connected group of German biologists and that it was based squarely on the unification of teleological and mechanistic models of explanation.

Charles Bonnet began his career as a naturalist, from an early age establishing a reputation as a careful observer. It is for those youthful observations, as well as for some suggestive speculations proposed relative to this field, that he is best remembered in English-speaking countries: regarding the taxonomic de­ mands of natural history he refurbished the idea of a chain of beings; regarding the question of generation he marshaled evidence in support of preforma­ tion theory; and regarding the analysis of the physiology of the nervous system he advanced a theory that individual nerve fibers receive and retain specific sensations. Following his loss of eyesight in his mid-twenties Bonnet entered a more reflective period, turning to philosophy and pondering the nature of human understanding - considerations he had formerly disdained, but that now seemed a natural outgrowth of his reflections on nature. This essay focuses on the philosophical and psychological works of the later period, the period in which he wrote all his major books. By giving these writings a broader exposure it has been one of my hopes that Bonnet's audience would also be broadened, releasing him, so to speak, from the charge of historians of science so that he might fmd his way, in general books on the "Enlightenment", from scattered footnotes into the texts themselves.

Many books have been written on the history of quantum mechanics. So far as I am aware, however, this is the first to incorporate the results of the large amount of detailed scholarly research completed by professional historians of physics over the past fifteen years. It is also, I believe, the first since Max Jammer's pioneering study of fifteen years ago to attempt a genuine 'history' as opposed to a mere technical report or popular or semi-popular account. My aims in making this attempt have been to satisfy the needs of historians of science and, more especially, to promote a serious interest in the history of science among phYSicists and physics students. Since the creation of quantum mechanics was inevitably a technical process conducted through the medium of technical language it has been impossible to avoid the introduction of a large amount of such language. Some acquaintance with quantum mechanics, corresponding to that obtained through an undergraduate physics course, has accordingly been assumed. I have tried to ensure, however, that such an acquaintance should be sufficient as well as necessary, and even someone with only the most basic grounding in physics should be able with judicious skip­ ping, to get through the book. The technical details are essential to the dialogue, but the plot proceeds and can, I hope, be understood on a non­ technical level.

Many books have been written on the history of quantum mechanics. So far as I am aware, however, this is the first to incorporate the results of the large amount of detailed scholarly research completed by professional historians of physics over the past fifteen years. It is also, I believe, the first since Max Jammer's pioneering study of fifteen years ago to attempt a genuine 'history' as opposed to a mere technical report or popular or semi-popular account. My aims in making this attempt have been to satisfy the needs of historians of science and, more especially, to promote a serious interest in the history of science among phYSicists and physics students. Since the creation of quantum mechanics was inevitably a technical process conducted through the medium of technical language it has been impossible to avoid the introduction of a large amount of such language. Some acquaintance with quantum mechanics, corresponding to that obtained through an undergraduate physics course, has accordingly been assumed. I have tried to ensure, however, that such an acquaintance should be sufficient as well as necessary, and even someone with only the most basic grounding in physics should be able with judicious skip­ ping, to get through the book. The technical details are essential to the dialogue, but the plot proceeds and can, I hope, be understood on a non­ technical level.

Teleological thinking has been steadfastly resisted by modern biology. And yet, in nearly every area of research biologists are hard pressed to find language that does not impute purposiveness to living forms. The life of the individual organism, if not life itself, seems to make use of a variety of strate gems in achieving its purposes. But in an age when physical models dominate our imagination and when physics itself has become accustomed to uncertainty relations and complementarity, biologists have learned to live with a kind of schizophrenic language, employing terms like 'selfish genes' and 'survival machines' to describe the behavior of organisms as if they were somehow purposive yet all the while intending that they are highly complicated mechanisms. The present study treats a period in the history of the life sciences when the imputation of purposiveness to biological organization was not regarded an embarrassment but rather an accepted fact, and when the principal goal was to reap the benefits of mechanistic explanations by finding a. means of in­ corporating them within the guidelines of a teleological fmmework. Whereas the history of German biology in the early nineteenth century is usually dismissed as an unfortunate era dominated by arid speculation, the present study aims to reverse that judgment by showing that a consistent, workable program of research was elaborated by a well-connected group of German biologists and that it was based squarely on the unification of teleological and mechanistic models of explanation.

them in his cheat-preface to Copernicus De Revolutionibus, but the main change in their import has been that whereas Osiander defended Copernicus, Mach and Duhem defended science. The modem conception of hypothetico­ deductive science is, again, geared to defend the respectability of science in much the same way: the physical interpretation, it says, is merely and always hypothetical, and so the scientist is never really committed to it. Hence, when science sheds the physical interpretation off its mathematical skeleton as time and refutation catch up with it, the scientist is not really caught in error, for he never was committed to this interpretation in the first place. This is the apologetic essence of present day, Popper-like, versions of the idea of science as a mathematical-core-cum-interpretational shell. This is also Cohen's view, for it aims to free Newton of any existential commitment to which his theory might allegedly commit him. It will be readily seen that Cohen regards this methodological distinction between mathematics and physics to be the backbone of the Newtonian revolution in science (which is, in its tum, the climax of the whole Scientific Revolution) for a very clear reason: it enables us to argue that Newton could use freely the new concept of centripetal force, even though he did not be­ lieve in physical action at a distance and could not conceive how such a force could act to produce its effects". ([3] pp.

Radio techniques were the nrst to lead astronomy away from the quiescent and limited Universe revealed by traditional observations at optical wave­ lengths. In the earliest days of radio astronomy, a handful of radio physicists and engineers made one startling discovery after another as they opened up the radio sky. With this collection of classic papers and the extensive intro­ ductory material, the reader can experience these exciting discoveries, as well as understand the developing techniques and follow the motivations which prompted the various lines of inquiry. For instance he or she will follow in detail the several attempts to detect radio waves from the sun at the turn of the century; the unravelling by Jansky of a "steady hiss type static"; the incredible story of Reber who built a 9 meter dish in his backyard in 1937 and then mapped the Milky Way; the vital discoveries by Hey and colleagues of radio bursts from the Sun and of a discrete source in the constellation of Cygnus; the development of receivers and interferometry in the post-war years by the groups led by Ryle in Cambridge and Pawsey in Sydney; the nrst measurements and exciting identiftcations of Taurus A (the Crab Nebula), Centaurus A, Virgo A, Cassiopeia A, and Cygnus A, the last opening the neld of radio cosmology; the early development of synchroton theory; and the prediction and discovery seven years later of the 21 cm line of neutral hy­ drogen.

Charles Bonnet began his career as a naturalist, from an early age establishing a reputation as a careful observer. It is for those youthful observations, as well as for some suggestive speculations proposed relative to this field, that he is best remembered in English-speaking countries: regarding the taxonomic de­ mands of natural history he refurbished the idea of a chain of beings; regarding the question of generation he marshaled evidence in support of preforma­ tion theory; and regarding the analysis of the physiology of the nervous system he advanced a theory that individual nerve fibers receive and retain specific sensations. Following his loss of eyesight in his mid-twenties Bonnet entered a more reflective period, turning to philosophy and pondering the nature of human understanding - considerations he had formerly disdained, but that now seemed a natural outgrowth of his reflections on nature. This essay focuses on the philosophical and psychological works of the later period, the period in which he wrote all his major books. By giving these writings a broader exposure it has been one of my hopes that Bonnet's audience would also be broadened, releasing him, so to speak, from the charge of historians of science so that he might fmd his way, in general books on the "Enlightenment", from scattered footnotes into the texts themselves.

A number of years ago I began a project to derme and evaluate the impact of Buffon's Histoire naturelle on the science of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. My attention, however, was soon diverted by the striking difference between the highly literary natural history of Buffon and the duller, but more rigor­ ous, zoology of his successors, and I began to try to understand this transformation of natural history into a set of separate scientific disciplines (geology, botany, ornithology, entomology, ichthyology, etc. ). Historical literature on the emergence of the biological sciences in the early nineteenth century is, unfortunately, scant. ! Indeed the entire issue of the emergence of scientific disciplines in general is poorly documented. A recent collection of articles on the subject states: One reason for this is, of course, that scientific development is a highly com­ plex process. Consequently, there has been a tendency for those engaged in its empirical study to select for close attention one strand or a small number of strands from the complicated web of social and intellectual factors at work. Many historians, for example, have dealt primarily with the internal development of scientific knowledge within given fields of inquiry. Sociologists, in contrast, have tended to concentrate on the social processes associated with the activities of scientists; but at the same time 2 they have largely ignored the intellectual content of science.

The nature of that transition to maturity [a transition involving "The acquisition of the sort of paradigm that identifies challenging puzzles, supplies clues to their solution, and guarantees that the truly clever practitioner will succeed") deserves fuller discussion than it has received in this book, particularly from those concerned with the development of the contemporary social sciences. (Thomas S. Kuhn, 1969, Postscript to The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. ) The fIrst two or three decades of the twentieth-century represents a shadowy period in the history of science. For most contemporary scientists, the period is a little too far away to be the subject of a fIrst-hand oral tradition; while at the same time it is not suffIciently remote to have acquired the epic and oversimplifIed contour of history which has been transformed into mythol­ ogy. Historians of science, by contrast, who want to free themselves from the mythology which is used to legitimize the present state of the discipline, are interested in discovering what really happened, and how it was regarded at the time. For them the nature of science in the early twentieth-century is obscured by what they regard as its proximity in time, and they are disturbed by a general lack of depth in scholarly work in the area, which makes it diffI­ cult to see the period in proper perspective.