Showing posts with label science. Show all posts
Showing posts with label science. Show all posts

Theology, Alchemy, and "Newton's Dark Secret"

One of the great difficulties in reading history is that we always bring a tremendous amount of cultural baggage to the task. We tend to interpret the past in light of the present moment, a habit which undermines our understanding of both the past and present. For the present moment is a creation of the past, and if we merely project backwards our current understandings, we will misunderstand both past and present.

These observations come to mind when watching the PBS science show, Nova, which did an excellent program on “Newton's Dark Secret.” And what is this “dark secret” of the great genius, Issac Newton, the father of modern science? Simply this: the bulk of Issac Newton's writings and work were in theology and alchemy. From a modern standpoint, this is shocking, and the producers of the program were duly shocked. Newton is considered to be the man who single-handedly overturned all the superstitions of religion, alchemy, and astrology. So how could such a scientific genius (which he certainly was) become so mired in such “medieval” superstitions? The show went to great lengths to explain away the bulk of Newton's work. They needn't have troubled themselves. What they did need to do was to jettison their modern prejudices and look at the world from Newton's point of view and from the point of view of most people in the 18th Century. We erect huge barriers around theology and science, placing each in their respective ghettos. But this is a modern phenomenon. For Newton and his age, what we call “science” was a branch of philosophy, natural philosophy. Indeed, his greatest work is Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica, “The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy.”

Newton was, for most of his life, a reclusive who labored in self-imposed obscurity. By the age of 22, he had invented a new mathematics, calculus, but didn't tell anyone of it. Using this new calculus, he was able to work out the problems of planetary motion which had vexed European astronomers for 200 years, and which had led to the infamous Galileo affair. A professor of mathematics at Cambridge, he was not popular, had few students, and often lectured to an empty classroom. Early in his career, he published a revolutionary paper on optics, which correctly identified white light as a combination of all the colors of light. Along with the praise for the paper, and a membership in the Royal Academy, he also received a great deal of criticism. He was so sensitive to this that he withdrew into his private world, and for decades did not publish any of the brilliant work that he was doing. Along with breakthroughs in mathematics, optics, and astronomy, and the invention of a new and more powerful telescope, he searched ancient myths for alchemical formulas, worked out a chronology for the Bible (the world was created in 980 B.C. and will end in 2060 A. D.) His researches into early Christian literature made him doubt the divinity of Christ.

It was not until he was in his 40's that the reclusive Newton was visited by the famous astronomer Edmund Halley, who posed to him the question of planetary motion. The astronomers had discovered that planets move in elliptical orbits, and they suspected the operation of an “inverse square-law,” which states that the force moving the planets was inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the sun. However, they could not make it work mathematically. Newton told an astounded Halley that he had worked that problem out many years ago and gave him his unpublished paper on the problem. At a stroke, the problems of planetary motion melted away and formed themselves into neat, mathematical formulas.

The producers of the show regard Newton as a genius despite his theological and alchemical preoccupations. But in truth, he was a genius because of them. The first thing we must understand is that alchemy and astrology were not superstitions, but two opposed views of science, views that still are at the center of scientific inquiry. Astrology represented the view of what is now called determinism, the idea that all things are already determined, that the past and future are already encoded in the position and momentum of all the particles. In this view, if one could only know with precision the current state of the universe, it would be an easy matter to figure out the past and future of everything. In scientific determinism, all of our actions were already encoded into the universe at the moment of the big bang; even the content of this blog is the result of irresistible and irreversible forces unleashed by the primordial explosion. Therefore, to understand the motion of the stars was to understand everything, past and present. Alchemy, on the other hand, is the opposite idea, the idea that we can indeed intervene in the motions of the natural order. If we can change these natural motions, then we should be able to change the nature of things dictated by those motions, for example, changing lead into gold, or anything into anything else. Newton came down hard on the side of alchemy, and in doing so solved all the problems of astronomy.

Far from overturning the idea of religion, Newton believed that he was making God an absolute necessity. Further, his God was not the “god of the gaps,” a god invoked only for those things that science couldn't explain. Rather, it was the very order of the universe that necessitated an ordering god. For Newton, since there was, obviously, an intelligent design to the universe, there must be an intelligent designer. Whoops! That brings us to another controversy, one which we won't address now, except to say that the father of modern science would be perplexed by some of the arguments about what constitutes “science.” For Newton, theology and science were parts of a single whole. Nor was his work taken by his contemporaries as a refutation of religion. On the contrary, they saw in his work the same confirmation of the divine that Newton himself did. As the Catholic poet Alexander Pope put it,

Nature, and nature's laws lay hid in night

God said, “Let Newton be!” and all was light.

Newton's Principia was criticized because he could not tell us exactly what gravity was. But that is precisely where his training in alchemy equipped him to handle the problem. Alchemy resolved the world down to “active principles” of nature, which could not themselves be explained. They were simply occult forces, and this was Newton's understanding of gravity; he provided no explanation because there was none. In this regard, physics has gone no further than Newton; we still do not have a coherent explanation for gravity. As the physicist Richard Feynman put it, Men used to believe that the stars moved because each one had an angel to push it. We no longer believe in angels; but we still don't know why the stars move.

We tend to interpret Newton as making a radical break with the past, but that was not Newton's understanding of his work. Rather, he emphasized its continuity with the past. He described himself as a pygmy standing on the shoulders of giants. He could see further than they but only because he could build on the work they had done. We have made of Newton an icon of the religion of scientism, a religion he rejected, and hence we are surprised when we actually meet the man. But we cannot understand either the man or ourselves unless we meet him as he was, unless we allow him to speak for himself.


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Science, Normative and Positive

Some wag somewhere has remarked that economists suffer from “physics envy.” One could certainly make that charge against W. S. Jevons (1835-1882), one of the founders of marginal economics, when he wrote that a “perfect system of statistics … is the only … obstacle in the way of making economics an exact science”; once the statistics have been gathered, the generalization of laws from them “will render economics a science as exact as many of the physical sciences.1 More than a century has passed since Jevons wrote these words, and in that time there has been a growth of vast bureaucracies, both public and private, devoted to establishing this “perfect system” of statistics. Yet today economics seems no closer to being an exact science than it was in Jevons’ day. Despite this failure, economic orthodoxy clings to the notion of itself as a positive science. As Milton Friedman puts it:

Positive economics is in principle independent of any particular ethical position or normative judgments. As [J. N.] Keynes says, it deals with “what is,” not with “what ought to be.” Its task is to provide a system of generalizations that can be used to make correct predictions about the consequences of any change in circumstances. Its performance is to be judged by the precision, scope, and conformity with experience of the predictions it yields. In short, positive economics is, or can be, an “objective” science, in precisely the same sense as any of the physical sciences.2

Friedman makes predictive success the criteria for judging a positive economics, yet such success is doubtful, despite the fact that we have access not only to vast amounts of statistics, but to computing power unimaginable in Jevons’ day. Yet the models, worked out in great precision and computed on engines of vast power, seem to lack any predictive reliability whatsoever.3 Nevertheless, economists are (as Lev Landau said of cosmologists) “frequently in error but never in doubt.” As Paul Ormerod puts it, "By definition, any model necessarily abstracts from and simplifies reality. But the model of competitive equilibrium is a travesty of reality." Paul, a former econometrician, goes on to document the failure of economics to actually predict anything substantive. Thus economics fails Friedman's own test for a "positive" science.

In light of these failures, can we ask if economics really is a positive science? Let me suggest that the question is meaningless. Every science, insofar as it really is a science, is both positive and normative. Every science, insofar as it is a science, must be “normalized” to some criteria of truth. These truths will arise from two sources: an internal and an external source. The internal criteria involve a science’s proper subject matter and methodology. But these criteria are insufficient to found any science as a science. In addition, there must be external criteria of truth, and these truths can only come from one or more higher sciences. In the absence of such an external check, the science will merely be circular, dependent on nothing but itself and unconnected with the hierarchy of truth. Thus, for example, biology is responsible to chemistry, chemistry to physics, physics to metaphysics. No biologist can violate the laws of chemistry, and no chemist can reach a conclusion contrary to physics. Thus every science is responsible to its own methodology (and therefore “positive”) and to the higher sciences (and therefore “normative”). Every science has, therefore, both its own proper autonomy, based on its subject matter and methodology, and its own proper connection to the near sciences, based on the hierarchy of truth. In speaking of the autonomy of a science, we should note that it is only a relative autonomy, not an absolute one. A scientist’s obligation to be faithful to his proper method does not relieve him of the obligation to higher truths.

No science can provide its own criteria entirely without being merely circular. When a science attempts to do so, one of two things happens. The first possibility is that the science breaks up into mutually warring camps whose disputes can never be resolved because there are no accepted criteria of truth by which to resolve them. The second possibility is that the science becomes merely dogmatic, and no rational examination of its premises is permitted. In economics, both things have happened; the science is divided into warring factions with no arbiter of truth among them; the principles of the various factions often become dogmatic statements with little connection to reality.

It is necessary, then, to determine what the “higher sciences” are for economics. Now, the physical sciences terminate in physics, but the humane sciences terminate in some view of anthropology derived ultimately from philosophy and theology. Therefore, some theology must be the ultimate source of truth for economics with some intermediate stops at philosophy, psychology and sociology. It would seem to be self-evident that a complete view of man would involve these sciences, yet this view is not at all universally (or even generally) accepted by economists. How is it possible that a humane science can cut itself off from these indispensable sources of knowledge about humans? The answer lies in the fact that neoclassical economists accept as a purely economic truth that which is, in fact, a purely philosophic stance, namely that of Jeremy Bentham’s utilitarianism. The purest expression of this is in Ludwig von Mises’s tome, Human Action. The very subtitle (“A Treatise on Economics”) gives the game away; he claims that his thesis is not, as it appears to be, a philosophic one or an exercise in psychology, but a purely economic treatise; he is off course wrong, from the title onwards. Mises states that his theory has the same epistemological status as do logic and mathematics, asserting that it is “unconditionally valid for all beings endowed with the logical structure of the human mind.”4 But surely, quite logical people have found logical grounds for questioning his “praxeology”; it is not an intuitively obvious principle that all scientists, indeed, all persons, must accept. Here we see a purely philosophic stance becoming an economic dogma, placed beyond testing or question, and hence unscientific. Nor is the problem confined to the Austrians, for what Mises does explicitly, Friedman does implicitly. And in either case, “science” is cut off from the very roots, the very connection with the higher sciences that could make it a legitimate science rather than a warring set of ideologies.

Cut off from these roots, economics cannot answer the question of distributive justice, or any other question, for that matter. Or rather, it cannot test the theories of distributive justice offered by the higher sciences. Instead, thinking itself complete in itself, it will engage in battles that have no possible resolution, because they are not really economic battles but philosophic ones. But more importantly, it cannot even answer the question of corrective justice, of justice in exchange. It cannot possibly show whether its distributive equation, marginal productivity, actually marginalizes productivity or merely power.

1 Quoted in James E. Alvey, "A Short History of Economics as a Moral Science," Journal of Markets and Morality 2, no. 1 (Spring, 1999): 62.

2 Milton Friedman, Essays in Positive Economics (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1953), 4.

3 Paul Ormerod, The Death of Economics (New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 1994), 120-7.

4 Ludwig von Mises, Human Action: A Treatise on Economics, 4th Revised ed. (San Francisco: Fox & Wilkes, 1963), 57.

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