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The Manhattan Project to develop an atomic bomb, the atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and the post-war nuclear arms race with fission and fusion bombs have been the subject of many discussions and historical studies. In fact, these subjects, and the way in which they were generally dealt with, have led to retrospective distortion with respect to the spectrum of ‘atomic’ weapons discussed and explored during the wartime Manhattan Project and immediately after the Second World War. Specifically, it has made observers of the cold war's early nuclear arms race overlook the fact that the military use of radioactive reactor fission products in so-called radiological warfare weapons, was a very real possibility at the time, both for the US Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) and the military, as well as for relative outsiders and the general public. Thus, for many observers it came as something of a surprise when the United States in 1976 introduced radiological weapons as an issue of UN arms control negotiations between the United States and the Soviet Union.
In this paper it will be shown that Newton's Principia gives an explication of and an argument for the first Law of Motion, that seems to be outside the scope of today's philosophy of science but was familiar to seventeenth-century commentators: The foundation of classical mechanics is possible only by recurrence to results of a successful technical practice. Laws of classical mechanics gain their meaning as well as their claims to validity only when considered as statements about artifacts whose production belongs to the shared know-how of a scientific community.
The Doctor of Philosophy, a nonmedieval academic figure who spread throughout the globe in the Modern Era, and who emblemized the transformation of academic knowledge into the “pursuit of research,” emerged through a long and tortuous path in the early modern Germanies. The emergence and recognition of the Doctor of Philosophy would be correlative with the nineteenth-century professionalization of the arts and sciences. Throughout the Early Modern Era, the earlier Doctors and older “professional” faculties from the medieval university — Theology, Law, and Medicine — opposed recognition of the Doctor of Philosophy. In Saxony, the forces of “medievalism” were able to block recognition of the Doctor of Philosophy, and they retained the degraded Master of Arts or Philosophy as the highest degree in arts and sciences. Forces of “modernism” prevailed, however, in Austria and Prussia in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. In Austria, the Doctor of Philosophy arrived as a wholly modern figure, the creation of a nice dossier and a civil service examination: the medieval “juridical” persona became a modern “bureaucratic” persona. Between this bureaucratic modernism of the Austrians and corporatist medievalism of the Saxons, the Prussians pursued a via media. Unlike the Saxons, they recognized the Doctor of Philosophy; but unlike the Austrians, they did not completely bureaucratize the candidate's persona. The Prussians demanded from the candidate a “work of research,” a doctoral dissertation, which exhibited the aesthetic qualities of the Romantic artist: originality and personality.
Many find it “notoriously difficult to see how societal context can affect in any essential way how someone solves a mathematical problem or makes a measurement.” That may be because it has been a habit of western scientists to assert their numerical schemes were untainted by any hint of anthropomorphism. Nevertheless, that Platonist penchant has always encountered obstacles in practice, primarily because the stability of any applied numerical scheme requires some alien or external warrant.
This paper surveys the history of measurement standards, physical dimensions and dimensionless constants as one instance of the quest to purge all anthropomorphic taint first in the metric system, then in the dimensions provided by the atom, then in physical constants intelligible to extraterrestrials, only then to end up back at overt anthropomorphism in the late 20th century. This suggests that the “naturalness” of natural numbers has always been conceptualized in locally contingent cultural terms.
This essay attempts to show the decisive importance of the “scientific discipline” for any historical or sociological analysis of modern science. There are two reasons for this:
1. A discontinuity can be observed at the beginning of modern science: the “discipline,” which up until that time had been a classificatorily generated unit of the ordering of knowledge for purposes of instruction in schools and universities, develops into a genuine and concrete social system of scientific communication. Scientific disciplines as concrete systems (Realsysteme) arise as a result of (a) the communicative stabilization of “scientific communities” at the end of the eighteenth century and the formation of “appropriate” roles and organizational structures (in universities); (b) the structural differentiation of the new scientific disciplines from the established professions (law, theology, medicine) in Europe; (c) the formation of scientific communication in the standardized form of scientific publication; the distinction of the separate action-type “scientific research” and the differentiation of these two elementary acts of all future scientific endeavor in relation to each other.
2. The scientific discipline as primary unit of the internal differentiation of science has, since its genesis, been stabilized by two conditions: (a) The fact of a science differentiated into a plurality of (competing, mutually stimulating) disciplinary perspectives becomes the chief causal factor underlying the developmental dynamism of modern science; (b) Similar to the way in which the discipline functions as a cognitive address within the system of science, science also links the discipline up as a structural unit (utilized in both systems) with curricular structures in the system of education — i.e., it is stabilized by the central system/environment relation of science.
Kuhnian phases of paradigmatic development correspond to characteristic variations of citation measures. These correlations can in turn be predicted from a simple model of human information processing when applied to the common environments of scientists. By combining a scientometric and a human information processing approach to the history of scientific thought, structures of disciplinary development, and in particular paradigmatic cycles, can be more reliably assessed than before. Consequently, the quantitative historian of science is liberated to some extent from the vagaries of qualitative judgment, as exemplified by traditional narrative type approaches to the history of science.
In the controversy in 1989 over the reported achievement of cold nuclear fusion, parts of the physics and chemistry communities were opposed in both a theoretic and a professional competition. Physicists saw the chemists' announcement as an incursion into territory allocated to their own discipline and strove to restore the interdisciplinary boundaries that had previously held. The events that followed throw light on the manner in which scientists' knowledge claims and metascientific beliefs are affected by their membership of disciplinary communities. In particular, the controversy offers evidence for a constructivist reinterpretation of the “division of nature into levels,” which is customarily held to underpin the division of science into disciplines.
Our working meetings follow each other according to a common pattern and with the regularity of astronomical events. No festival, no great event prevents the Academy from meeting once a week to receive and register research work and to discuss impersonal truths.
(G. Lippman, Public meeting of 16 December 1912, C.R., 155 (1912), 1277.)
A person, who devotes his life to the study of the sciences or the arts, must surely know how to control his desires and regulate his needs.
(Report by Villers on honoraria for members of the Institute, 21 May 1796, reproduced in L. Aucoc, L'Institut de France, 1889, p. 36.)
Turning up every Monday at about 3 o'clock at the Institute, signing the attendance register on arrival, accepting the minutes of the previous meeting, helping at every other meeting (each fortnight) in analysing the correspondence without taking in a word of it, paying no attention to most purely scientific communications but being all ears on matter of personality, cutting short the public part of the meeting, which is mainly concerned with the former, in order to be able to prolong the secret session, where the latter can be discussed at leisure, nominating for the examination of memoirs sent by scientists from outside, commissions which will not in fact examine anything, finally between 5 and 6 o'clock going to dinner – this is what [the secretary of the Academy] calls working with the greatest activity.
(Victor Meunier, Scènes et types du monde savant, 1889, pp. 182–3.)
It is an accepted opinion [among some people] that the Academy constitutes the central point, to which all discoveries and inventions from the entire world converge as soon as they are made. These discoveries will take the trouble to come to us to verify their authenticity and it is only after being supplied with a passport, signed by us, that they can decently circulate in the republic of science.
(Victor Meunier, Scènes et types du monde savant, 1889, p. 214.)
The title of associé étranger is reserved for those scientists who, from all countries except France and in all the sciences which the Academy studies, have reached the first rank. By this happy association the Academy is in a way universal, and the history of all the great discoveries, with which the sciences have been enriched since its foundation, belongs to its own history.
(Elie de Beaumont, éloge of Plana, 1872, M.A.I., 38, cvii.)
I bequeathe to the Academy of Sciences the sum of 20,000f., the interest from which will be given every two years as the Delalande-Guérineau prize to the French explorer or scientist, who has rendered the greatest service to France or to science.
(Will of 1872, from Pierre Gauja, Les fondations de I'Académie des Sciences (1881–1915), Hendaye, 1917, p. 270.)
Internationalism and nationalism
A certain universalism emerged in the eighteenth century from the ideas of the Enlightenment. The Enlightenment helped to spread the idea of man learning from nature. The natural world was thought of as providing models for law and politics, as for other human concerns.
Out[side] of the pale of the Institute and those who aspire to its honours, there is infinitely little.
(R. Chevenix, Edinburgh Review, 34 (1820), 411.)
I demand as an amendment to Article 1 of the regulations [of the Institute] that the meetings of every Class should be held in public. The public will derive great advantages for their education. Also, if members of the Institute are placed under the public gaze, they will not fall asleep in their academic chairs.
(Dupuis, Conseil de 500, 15 March 1795.)
For two years an idea had been absorbing all my research and a hope had been consuming me. I had finally captured the idea and I thought that fortune was smiling. In those days young men knew only one dream, a king of glory, whose temple was the Academy of Sciences, guardian of truth … I remember how I trembled when I dared to speak to one of [the Academicians] in the courtyard of the Institute.
(Raspail, quoted by Dora B. Weiner, Raspail, scientist and reformer, New York, 1968, p. 84).
On the fringe of official science
All groups make distinctions between members of that group and non-members. Such distinctions apply to nationalities, to races, to schools and to learned societies. If the learned society in question was one of ancient lineage with government sponsorship and the very highest standards of membership, one should not be surprised if the distinction between members and non-members was almost an absolute one.
The main feature of the constitution of the Academy of Sciences consists of being composed exclusively of specialists, devoted entirely to the separate cultivation of the different sub-divisions of natural philosophy.
(August Comte, Correspondence générale, 1836, p. 264.)
…eleven permanent divisions or little academies, each sovereign within its own sphere…
(M. Berthelot, ‘L'Académie des Sciences’ (1867), Science et philosophie, 1886, p. 209.)
In an assembly of professors and savants, when some financial grant is made to a laboratory, at once all the other colleagues protest noisily. I do not think that an example to the contrary can be cited. Suppose that 3000 francs or so is given to a laboratory of Inorganic Chemistry. Well! What about Organic Chemistry? And Physiology? And Botany? And Zoology? And Physics? And Mechanics? And Geology? Jealous claims like these are after all legitimate. The zoologist feels he has a mission to defend Zoology; the botanist, to defend Botany. They have faith in their science; they do not wish it treated as a negligible quantity.
(Charles Richet, The natural history of a savant, 1923, trans. 1927, chap. 2, p. 20.)
Defining science
The Academy of Sciences and its predecessor, the First Class of the National Institute, constituted a powerful force in defining science in the postrevolutionary era, which in the traditional division of French history constitutes the period marking the beginning of the modern world. Yet in some ways the First Class perpetuated ideas clearly established in the former Royal Academy.
The man of science and the man of letters, who wishes to enjoy perfect and unlimited freedom, should renounce academies and [paid] positions.
(P. J. Pelletan, surgeon and members of the First Class in open letter to members of the Institute, n.d. but c. 1804.)
The regulations of the French Institute would appear … revolting and injurious to the feelings of an Englishman.
(G. Moll, On the alleged decline of science in England, 1831, p. 24.)
The Academy has decided, after a vote on the subject, that from now on it will only accept measurements according to the metric system in its publications.
(C.R., 102 (1886), 187.)
The power of modern science
By the nineteenth century science had reached a period of adolescence. Following this metaphor, the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries would correspond to a period of childhood when, after a long infancy, the universe began to be thought of in non-geocentric terms and investigations began with new scientific instruments like the telescope and the microscope. The seventeenth century also witnessed the beginnings of serious scientific organisation. Enough natural wonders had been revealed for some governments to begin to think that this new activity should come under state control, or at least state supervision. There is no better example of this than the Royal Academy of Sciences, founded in Paris in 1666 under the patronage of Louis XIV.
Whatever one's view of the control of science, one may feel that the French were far-sighted to see in immature science an activity capable of enormous growth.