The Rage to Know Horace Freeland Judson (1980) Para.1:Certain moments of the mind have a special quality of well-being.A mathematician friend of mine remarked the other day that his daughter,aged eight,had just stumbled without his teaching onto the fact that some numbers are prime numbers-those,like 11 or 19 or 83 or 1023,that cannot be divided by any other integer (except,trivially,by 1)."She called them 'unfair'numbers,"he said."And when I asked her why they were unfair,she told me,'Because there's no way to share them out evenly.""What delighted him most was not her charming turn of phrase nor her equitable turn of mind(seventeen peppermints to give to her friends?)but-as a mathematician-the knowledge that the child had experienced a moment of pure scientific perception.She had discovered for herself something of the way things are. Para.2:The satisfaction of such a moment at its most intense-and this is what ought to be meant, after all,by the tarnished phrase "the moment of truth"-is not easy to describe.It partakes at once of exhilaration and tranquility.It is luminously clear.It is beautiful.The clarity of the moment of discovery, the beauty of what in that moment is seen to be true about the world,is the fundamental attraction that draws scientists on. Para.3:Science is enormously disparate-easily the most varied and diverse of human pursuits.The scientific endeavor ranges from the study of animal behavior all the way to particle physics,and from the purest of mathematics back again to the most practical problems of shelter and hunger,sickness and war. Nobody has succeeded in catching all this in one net.And yet the conviction persists-scientists themselves believe,at heart-that behind the diversity lies a unity.In those luminous moments of discovery,in the various approaches and the painful tension require to arrive at them,and then in the community of science, organized worldwide to doubt and criticize,test and exploit discoveries-somewhere in that constellation, to begin with,there are surely constants.Deeper is the lure that in the bewildering variety of the world as it is there may be found some astonishing simplicities. Para.4:Philosophers,and some of the greatest among them,have offered descriptions of what they claim is the method of science.These make most scientists acutely uncomfortable.The descriptions don't seem to fit what goes on in the doing of science.They seem at once too abstract and too limited.Scientists don't believe that they think in ways that are wildly different from the way most people think at least in some areas of their lives."We'd be in real trouble-we could get nowhere-if ordinary methods of inference did not apply,"Philip Morrison said in a conversation a while ago.(Morrison is a theoretical physicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.)The wild difference,he went on to say,is that scientists apply these everyday methods to areas that most people never think about seriously and carefully. The philosophers'descriptions don't prepare one for either this ordinariness or this extreme diversity of the scientific enterprise-the variety of things to think about,the variety of obstacles and traps to understanding,the variety of approaches to solutions.They hardly acknowledge the fact that a scientist ought often to find himself stretching to the tiptoe of available technique and apparatus,out beyond the frontier of the art,attempting to do something whose difficulty is measured most significantly by the fact that it has never been done before.Science is carried on-this,too,is obvious-in the field,in the observatory,in the laboratory.But historians leave out the arts of the chef and the watchmaker,the development at the bench of a new procedure or a new instrument."And making it work,"Morrison said
The Rage to Know Horace Freeland Judson (1980) Para. 1: Certain moments of the mind have a special quality of well-being. A mathematician friend of mine remarked the other day that his daughter, aged eight, had just stumbled without his teaching onto the fact that some numbers are prime numbers—those, like 11 or 19 or 83 or 1023, that cannot be divided by any other integer (except, trivially, by 1). “She called them ‘unfair’ numbers,” he said. “And when I asked her why they were unfair, she told me, ‘Because there’s no way to share them out evenly.’” What delighted him most was not her charming turn of phrase nor her equitable turn of mind (seventeen peppermints to give to her friends?) but—as a mathematician—the knowledge that the child had experienced a moment of pure scientific perception. She had discovered for herself something of the way things are. Para. 2: The satisfaction of such a moment at its most intense—and this is what ought to be meant, after all, by the tarnished phrase “the moment of truth”—is not easy to describe. It partakes at once of exhilaration and tranquility. It is luminously clear. It is beautiful. The clarity of the moment of discovery, the beauty of what in that moment is seen to be true about the world, is the fundamental attraction that draws scientists on. Para. 3: Science is enormously disparate—easily the most varied and diverse of human pursuits. The scientific endeavor ranges from the study of animal behavior all the way to particle physics, and from the purest of mathematics back again to the most practical problems of shelter and hunger, sickness and war. Nobody has succeeded in catching all this in one net. And yet the conviction persists—scientists themselves believe, at heart—that behind the diversity lies a unity. In those luminous moments of discovery, in the various approaches and the painful tension require to arrive at them, and then in the community of science, organized worldwide to doubt and criticize, test and exploit discoveries—somewhere in that constellation, to begin with, there are surely constants. Deeper is the lure that in the bewildering variety of the world as it is there may be found some astonishing simplicities. Para. 4: Philosophers, and some of the greatest among them, have offered descriptions of what they claim is the method of science. These make most scientists acutely uncomfortable. The descriptions don’t seem to fit what goes on in the doing of science. They seem at once too abstract and too limited. Scientists don’t believe that they think in ways that are wildly different from the way most people think at least in some areas of their lives. “We’d be in real trouble—we could get nowhere—if ordinary methods of inference did not apply,” Philip Morrison said in a conversation a while ago. (Morrison is a theoretical physicist at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.) The wild difference, he went on to say, is that scientists apply these everyday methods to areas that most people never think about seriously and carefully. The philosophers’ descriptions don’t prepare one for either this ordinariness or this extreme diversity of the scientific enterprise—the variety of things to think about, the variety of obstacles and traps to understanding, the variety of approaches to solutions. They hardly acknowledge the fact that a scientist ought often to find himself stretching to the tiptoe of available technique and apparatus, out beyond the frontier of the art, attempting to do something whose difficulty is measured most significantly by the fact that it has never been done before. Science is carried on—this, too, is obvious—in the field, in the observatory, in the laboratory. But historians leave out the arts of the chef and the watchmaker, the development at the bench of a new procedure or a new instrument. “And making it work,” Morrison said
"This is terribly important."Indeed,biochemists talk about "the cook-book."Many a Nobel Prize has been awarded,not for a discovery,as such,but for a new technique or a new tool that opened up a whole field of discovery."I am a theoretician,"Morrison said."And yet the most important problem for me is to be in touch with the people who are making new instruments or finding new ways of observing,and to try to get them to do the right experiments."And then,in a burst of annoyance,"I feel very reluctant to give any support to descriptions of'scientific method.'The scientific enterprise is very difficult to model.You have to look at what scientists of all kinds actually do." Para.5:It's true that by contrast philosophers and historians seem book-bound-or paper-blindered, depending chiefly on what has been published as scientific research for their understanding of the process of discovery.In this century,anyway,published papers are no guide to the way scientists get the results they report.We have testimony of the highest authenticity for that.Sir Peter Medawar has both done fine science and written well about how it is done:he won his Nobel Prize for investigations of immunological tolerance,which explained,among other things,why foreign tissue,like a kidney or a heart,is rejected by the body into which it is transplanted,and he has described the methods of science in essays of grace and distinction.A while ago,Medawar wrote,"What scientists do has never been the subject of a scientific... inquiry.It is no use looking to scientific 'papers,'for they not merely conceal but actively misrepresent the reasoning that goes into the work they describe."The observation has become famous,its truth acknowledged by other scientists.Medawar wrote further,"Scientists are building explanatory structures, telling stories which are scrupulously tested to see if they are stories about real life." Para.6:Scientists do science for a variety of reasons,of course,and most of them are familiar to the sculptor,or to the surgeon or the athlete or the builder of bridges:the professional's pride in skill:the swelling gratification that comes with recognition accorded by colleagues and peers;perhaps the competitor's fierce appetite;perhaps ambition for a kind of fame more durable than most.At the beginning is curiosity,and with curiosity the delight in mastery-the joy of figuring it out that is the birthright of every child.I once asked Murray Gell-Mann,a theoretical physicist,how he got started in science.His answer was to point to the summer sky:"When I was a boy,I used to ask all sorts of simple question-like, 'What holds the clouds up?""Rosalind Franklin,the crystallographer whose early death deprived her of a share in the Nobel Prize for the discovery of the structure of DNA,one day was helping a young collaborator draft an application for research money,when she looked up at him and said,"What we can't tell them is that it's so much fun!"He still remembers her glint of mischief.The play of the mind,in an almost childlike innocence,is a pleasure that appears again and again in scientists'reflection on their work. The geneticist Barbara McClintock,as a woman in American science in the 1930s,had no chance at the academic posts open to her male colleagues,but that hardly mattered to her."I did it because it was fin!" she said forty years later."I couldn't wait to get up in the morning!I never thought of it as 'science'." Para.7:The exuberant innocence can be poignant.Francois Jacob2,who won his share of a Nobel Prize as one of the small group of molecular biologists in the fifties who brought sense and order into the interactions by which bacteria regulate their life processes,recently read an account I had written of that work,and said to me with surprise and an evident pang of regret,"We were like children playing!"He meant the fun of it-but also the simplicity of the problems they had encountered and the innocence of mind they had brought to them.Two hundred and fifty years before-although Jacob did not consciously intend the parallel-Isaac Newton',shortly before his dead,said:
“This is terribly important.” Indeed, biochemists talk about “the cook-book.” Many a Nobel Prize has been awarded, not for a discovery, as such, but for a new technique or a new tool that opened up a whole field of discovery. “I am a theoretician,” Morrison said. “And yet the most important problem for me is to be in touch with the people who are making new instruments or finding new ways of observing, and to try to get them to do the right experiments.” And then, in a burst of annoyance, “I feel very reluctant to give any support to descriptions of ‘scientific method.’ The scientific enterprise is very difficult to model. You have to look at what scientists of all kinds actually do.” Para. 5: It’s true that by contrast philosophers and historians seem book-bound—or paper-blindered, depending chiefly on what has been published as scientific research for their understanding of the process of discovery. In this century, anyway, published papers are no guide to the way scientists get the results they report. We have testimony of the highest authenticity for that. Sir Peter Medawar has both done fine science and written well about how it is done: he won his Nobel Prize for investigations of immunological tolerance, which explained, among other things, why foreign tissue, like a kidney or a heart, is rejected by the body into which it is transplanted, and he has described the methods of science in essays of grace and distinction. A while ago, Medawar wrote, “What scientists do has never been the subject of a scientific … inquiry. It is no use looking to scientific ‘papers,’ for they not merely conceal but actively misrepresent the reasoning that goes into the work they describe.” The observation has become famous, its truth acknowledged by other scientists. Medawar wrote further, “Scientists are building explanatory structures, telling stories which are scrupulously tested to see if they are stories about real life.” Para. 6: Scientists do science for a variety of reasons, of course, and most of them are familiar to the sculptor, or to the surgeon or the athlete or the builder of bridges: the professional’s pride in skill: the swelling gratification that comes with recognition accorded by colleagues and peers; perhaps the competitor’s fierce appetite; perhaps ambition for a kind of fame more durable than most. At the beginning is curiosity, and with curiosity the delight in mastery—the joy of figuring it out that is the birthright of every child. I once asked Murray Gell-Mann, a theoretical physicist, how he got started in science. His answer was to point to the summer sky: “When I was a boy, I used to ask all sorts of simple question—like, ‘What holds the clouds up?’” Rosalind Franklin, the crystallographer whose early death deprived her of a share in the Nobel Prize for the discovery of the structure of DNA1 , one day was helping a young collaborator draft an application for research money, when she looked up at him and said, “What we can’t tell them is that it’s so much fun!” He still remembers her glint of mischief. The play of the mind, in an almost childlike innocence, is a pleasure that appears again and again in scientists’ reflection on their work. The geneticist Barbara McClintock, as a woman in American science in the 1930s, had no chance at the academic posts open to her male colleagues, but that hardly mattered to her. “I did it because it was fun!” she said forty years later. “I couldn’t wait to get up in the morning! I never thought of it as ‘science’.” Para. 7: The exuberant innocence can be poignant. Francois Jacob 2 , who won his share of a Nobel Prize as one of the small group of molecular biologists in the fifties who brought sense and order into the interactions by which bacteria regulate their life processes, recently read an account I had written of that work, and said to me with surprise and an evident pang of regret, “We were like children playing!” He meant the fun of it—but also the simplicity of the problems they had encountered and the innocence of mind they had brought to them. Two hundred and fifty years before—although Jacob did not consciously intend the parallel—Isaac Newton 3 , shortly before his dead, said:
I do not know what I may appear to the world,but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea shore,and diverting myself in no and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary,whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me. Para.8:For some curiosity and the delight of putting the world together deepen into a life's passion. Sheldon Glashow,a fundamental-particle physicist at Harvard,also got started in science by asking simple questions."In eighth grade,we were learning about how the earth goes around the sun,and the moon around the earth,and so on,"he said."And I thought about that,and realized that the Man in the Moon is always looking at us"-that the moon as it circles always turns the same face to the earth.And I asked the teacher,'Why is the Man in the Moon always looking at us?'She was pleased with the question-but said it was hard to answer.And it turns out that it's not until you're in college-level physics courses that one really learns the answers,"Glashow said."But the difference is that most people would look at the moon and wonder for a moment and say,That's interesting'-and then forget it.But some people can't let go." Para.9:Curiosity is not enough.The word is too mild by far,a word for infants.Passion is indispensable for creation.no less in the sciences than in the arts.Medawar once described it in a talk addressed to young scientists."You must feel in yourself an exploratory impulsion-an acute discomfort at incomprehension."This is the rage to know.The other side of the fun of science,as of art,is pain.A problem worth solving will surely require weeks and months of lack of progress,whipsawed between hope and the blackest sense of despair.The marathon runner or the young swimmer who would be a champion knows at least that the pain may be a symptom of progress.But here the artist and the scientist part company with the athlete-to join the mystic for a while.The pain of creation,though not of the body,is in one way worse.It must be not only endured but reflected back on itself to increase the agility,variety, inventiveness of the play of the mind.Some problems in science have demanded such devotion,such willingness to bear repeated rebuffs,not just for years but for decades.There are times in the practice of the arts,we're told,of abysmal self-doubt.There are like passages in the doing of science. Para.10:Albert Einstein took eleven years of unremitting concentration to produce the general theory of relativity;long afterward,he wrote,"In the light of knowledge attained,the happy achievement seems almost a matter of course,and any intelligent student can grasp it without too much trouble.But the years of anxious searching in the dark,with their intense longing,their alternations of confidence and exhaustion,and the final emergence into the light-only those who have experienced it can understand it." Einstein confronting Einstein's problems:the achievement,to be sure,is matched only by Newton's and perhaps Darwin's-but the experience is not rare.It is all but inseparable from high accomplishment.In the black cave of unknowing,when one is groping for the contours of the rock and the slope of the floor, tossing a pebble and listening for its fall,brushing away false clues as insistent as cobwebs,a touch of fresh air on the cheek can make hope leap up,and unexpected scurrying whisper can induce the mood of the brink of terror."Afterward it can be told-trivialized-like a roman policier,a detective story,"Francois Jacob once said."While you're there,it is the sound and the fury."But it was the poet and adept of mysticism St.John of the Cross who gave to this passionate wrestling with bafflement the name by which, ever since,it has been known:"the dark night of the soul." Para.11:Enlightenment may not appear,or not in time;the mystic at least need not fear forestalling. Enlightenment may dawn in ways as varied as the individual approaches of scientists at work-and,in defiance of stereotypes,the sciences far outrun the arts in variety of personal styles and in the crucial
I do not know what I may appear to the world, but to myself I seem to have been only like a boy playing on the sea shore, and diverting myself in no and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me. Para. 8: For some curiosity and the delight of putting the world together deepen into a life’s passion. Sheldon Glashow, a fundamental-particle physicist at Harvard, also got started in science by asking simple questions. “In eighth grade, we were learning about how the earth goes around the sun, and the moon around the earth, and so on,” he said. “And I thought about that, and realized that the Man in the Moon is always looking at us”—that the moon as it circles always turns the same face to the earth. And I asked the teacher, ‘Why is the Man in the Moon always looking at us?’ She was pleased with the question—but said it was hard to answer. And it turns out that it’s not until you’re in college-level physics courses that one really learns the answers,” Glashow said. “But the dif erence is that most people would look at the moon and wonder for a moment and say, ‘That’s interesting’—and then forget it. But some people can’t let go.” Para. 9: Curiosity is not enough. The word is too mild by far, a word for infants. Passion is indispensable for creation, no less in the sciences than in the arts. Medawar once described it in a talk addressed to young scientists. “You must feel in yourself an exploratory impulsion—an acute discomfort at incomprehension.” This is the rage to know. The other side of the fun of science, as of art, is pain. A problem worth solving will surely require weeks and months of lack of progress, whipsawed between hope and the blackest sense of despair. The marathon runner or the young swimmer who would be a champion knows at least that the pain may be a symptom of progress. But here the artist and the scientist part company with the athlete—to join the mystic for a while. The pain of creation, though not of the body, is in one way worse. It must be not only endured but reflected back on itself to increase the agility, variety, inventiveness of the play of the mind. Some problems in science have demanded such devotion, such willingness to bear repeated rebuffs, not just for years but for decades. There are times in the practice of the arts, we’re told, of abysmal self-doubt. There are like passages in the doing of science. Para. 10:Albert Einstein 4 took eleven years of unremitting concentration to produce the general theory of relativity; long afterward, he wrote, “In the light of knowledge attained, the happy achievement seems almost a matter of course, and any intelligent student can grasp it without too much trouble. But the years of anxious searching in the dark, with their intense longing, their alternations of confidence and exhaustion, and the final emergence into the light—only those who have experienced it can understand it.” Einstein confronting Einstein’s problems: the achievement, to be sure, is matched only by Newton’s and perhaps Darwin’s—but the experience is not rare. It is all but inseparable from high accomplishment. In the black cave of unknowing, when one is groping for the contours of the rock and the slope of the floor, tossing a pebble and listening for its fall, brushing away false clues as insistent as cobwebs, a touch of fresh air on the cheek can make hope leap up, and unexpected scurrying whisper can induce the mood of the brink of terror. “Afterward it can be told—trivialized—like a roman policier, a detective story,” Francois Jacob once said. “While you’re there, it is the sound and the fury.” But it was the poet and adept of mysticism St. John of the Cross who gave to this passionate wrestling with bafflement the name by which, ever since, it has been known: “the dark night of the soul.” Para. 11:Enlightenment may not appear, or not in time; the mystic at least need not fear forestalling. Enlightenment may dawn in ways as varied as the individual approaches of scientists at work—and, in defiance of stereotypes, the sciences far outrun the arts in variety of personal styles and in the crucial
influence of style on the creative process.During a conversation with a co-worker-and he just as baffled-a fact quietly sifts from the insignificant background to the foreground;a trivial anomaly becomes a central piece of evidence,the entire pattern swims into focus,and at least one sees."How obvious!We knew it all along!"Or a rival may publish first but yet be wrong-and in the crashing wave of fear that he's got it right,followed and engulfed by the wave of realization that it must be wrong,the whole view of the problem skews,the tension of one's concentration twists abruptly higher,and at last one sees."Not that way, this way!” Para.12:One path to enlightenment,though,has been reported so widely,by writers and artists,by scientists,and especially by mathematicians,that it has become established as a discipline for courting inspiration.The frist stage,the reports agree,is prolonged contemplation of the problem,days of saturation in the data,weeks of incessant struggle-the torment of the unknown.The aim is to set in motion the unconscious processes of the mind,to prepare for the intuitive leap.William Lipscomb,a physical chemist at Harvard who won a Nobel Prize for finding the unexpected structures of some unusual molecules,the boranes,said recently that,for him,"The unconscious mind pieces together random impressions into a continuous story.If I really want to work on a problem,I do a good deal of the work at night-because then I worry about it as I got to sleep."The worry must be about the problem intensely and exclusively.Thought must be free of distraction or competing anxieties.Identification with the problem grows so intimate that the scientist ha the experience of the detective who begins to think like the terrorist,of the hunter who feels, as though directly,the silken ripple of the tiger's instincts.One great physical chemist was credited by his peers,who watched him awestruck,with the ability to think about chemical structures directly in quantum terms-so that if a proposed molecular model was too tightly packed he felt uncomfortable,as though his shoes pinched.Joshua Lederberg,president of the Rockefeller University,who won his Nobel for discoveries that established the genetics of microorganisms,said recently,"One needs the ability to strip to the essential attributes of some actor in a process,the ability to imagine oneself inside a biological situation; I literally had to be able to think,for example,'What would it be like if I were one of the chemical pieces in a bacterial chromosome染色体？'一and to try to understand what my environment was,.try to know where I was,and so forth."Total preoccupation to the point of absent-mindedness is no eccentricity-just as the monstrous egoism and contentiousness of some scientists,like that of some artists,are the overflow of the strength and reserves of sureness they must find how they can. Para.13:Sometimes out of that saturation the answer arises,spontaneous and entire,as though of its own volition.In a famous story,Friedrich Kekule,a German chemist of the mid-nineteenth century, described how a series of discoveries came to him in the course of hypnagogic reveries-waking dreams.His account,though far from typical,is charming.Kekule was immersed in one of the most perplexing problems of his day,to find the structural basis of organic chemistry-that is,of the chemistry of compounds that contain carbon atoms.Enormous numbers of such compounds were coming to be known,but their makeup-from atoms of carbon,hydrogen,oxygen,and a few other elements-seemed to follow no rules.Kekule had dwelt on the compounds'behavior so intensely that the atoms on occasion seemed to appear to him and dance.In the dusk of a summer evening,he was going home by horse-drawn omnibus,sitting outside and alone."I fell into a reverie,and lo!The atoms were gamboling before my eyes," he later wrote."I saw how,frequently,two smaller atoms united to form a pair,how a larger one embraced to smaller ones;how still larger ones kept hold of three or even four of the smaller,whilst the whole kept whirling in a giddy dance.I saw how the larger ones formed a chain."He spent hours that night sketching the forms he had envisioned.Another time,when Kekule was nodding in his chair before the fire,the atoms
influence of style on the creative process. During a conversation with a co-worker—and he just as baffled—a fact quietly sifts from the insignificant background to the foreground; a trivial anomaly becomes a central piece of evidence, the entire pattern swims into focus, and at least one sees. “How obvious! We knew it all along!” Or a rival may publish first but yet be wrong—and in the crashing wave of fear that he’s got it right, followed and engulfed by the wave of realization that it must be wrong, the whole view of the problem skews, the tension of one’s concentration twists abruptly higher, and at last one sees. “Not that way, this way!” Para. 12:One path to enlightenment, though, has been reported so widely, by writers and artists, by scientists, and especially by mathematicians, that it has become established as a discipline for courting inspiration. The frist stage, the reports agree, is prolonged contemplation of the problem, days of saturation in the data, weeks of incessant struggle—the torment of the unknown. The aim is to set in motion the unconscious processes of the mind, to prepare for the intuitive leap. William Lipscomb, a physical chemist at Harvard who won a Nobel Prize for finding the unexpected structures of some unusual molecules, the boranes 硼烷, said recently that, for him, “The unconscious mind pieces together random impressions into a continuous story. If I really want to work on a problem, I do a good deal of the work at night—because then I worry about it as I got to sleep.” The worry must be about the problem intensely and exclusively. Thought must be free of distraction or competing anxieties. Identification with the problem grows so intimate that the scientist ha the experience of the detective who begins to think like the terrorist, of the hunter who feels, as though directly, the silken ripple of the tiger’s instincts. One great physical chemist was credited by his peers, who watched him awestruck, with the ability to think about chemical structures directly in quantum terms—so that if a proposed molecular model was too tightly packed he felt uncomfortable, as though his shoes pinched. Joshua Lederberg, president of the Rockefeller University, who won his Nobel for discoveries that established the genetics of microorganisms, said recently, “One needs the ability to strip to the essential attributes of some actor in a process, the ability to imagine oneself inside a biological situation; I literally had to be able to think, for example, ‘What would it be like if I were one of the chemical pieces in a bacterial chromosome 染色体?’—and to try to understand what my environment was, try to know where I was, and so forth.” Total preoccupation to the point of absent-mindedness is no eccentricity—just as the monstrous egoism and contentiousness of some scientists, like that of some artists, are the overflow of the strength and reserves of sureness they must find how they can. Para. 13:Sometimes out of that saturation the answer arises, spontaneous and entire, as though of its own volition. In a famous story, Friedrich Kekule, a German chemist of the mid-nineteenth century, described how a series of discoveries came to him in the course of hypnagogic 催眠的 reveries—waking dreams. His account, though far from typical, is charming. Kekule was immersed in one of the most perplexing problems of his day, to find the structural basis of organic chemistry—that is, of the chemistry of compounds that contain carbon atoms. Enormous numbers of such compounds were coming to be known, but their makeup—from atoms of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and a few other elements—seemed to follow no rules. Kekule had dwelt on the compounds’ behavior so intensely that the atoms on occasion seemed to appear to him and dance. In the dusk of a summer evening, he was going home by horse-drawn omnibus, sitting outside and alone. “I fell into a reverie, and lo! The atoms were gamboling before my eyes,” he later wrote. “I saw how, frequently, two smaller atoms united to form a pair; how a larger one embraced to smaller ones; how still larger ones kept hold of three or even four of the smaller; whilst the whole kept whirling in a giddy dance. I saw how the larger ones formed a chain.” He spent hours that night sketching the forms he had envisioned. Another time, when Kekule was nodding in his chair before the fire, the atoms
danced for him again-but only the larger ones,this time,in long rows,"all twining and twisting in snakelike motion.But look!What was that?One of the sakes had seized hold of its own tale,and the form whirled mockingly before my eyes."The chains and rings that carbon atoms form with each other are indeed the fundamental structures of organic chemistry. Para.14:Several other scientists have told me that the fringes of sleep set the problem-sodden mind free to make uninhibited,bizarre,even random connections that may throw up the unexpected answer.One said that the technical trick that led to one of his most admired discoveries-it was about the fundamental molecular nature of genetic mutations-had sprung to mind while he was lying insomniac at three in the morning.Another said he was startled from a deep sleep one night by the fully worked-out answer to a puzzle that had blocked him for weeks-though at breakfast he was no longer able to remember any detail except the jubilant certainty.So the next night he went to sleep with paper and pencil on the bedside table; and when,once again,he awoke with the answer,he was able to seize it. Para.15:More usually,however,in the classic strategy for achieving enlightenment the weeks of saturation must be followed by a second stage that begins when the problem is deliberately set aside.After several days of silence,the solution wells up.The mathematician Henri Poincare was unusually introspective about the process of discovery.(He also came nearer than anyone else to beating Einstein to the theory of relativity,except that in htat case,though he had the pieces of the problem,inspiration did not strike.)In 1908,Poincare gave a lecture,before the Psychological Society of Paris,about the psychology of mathematical invention,and there he described how he made some of his youthful discoveries.He reassured his audience,few of them mathematical:"I will tell you that I found the proof of a certain theorem in certain circumstances.The theorem will have a barbarous name,which many of you will never have heard of.But that's of no importance,for what is interesting to the psychologist is not the theorem-it's the circumstances." Para.16:The youthful discovery was about a class of mathematical functions which he named in honor of another mathematician,Lazarus Fuchs-but,as he said,the mathematical content is not important here.The young Poincare believed,and for fifteen days he strove to prove,that no functions of the type he was pondering could exist in mathematics.He struggled with the disproof for hours every day.One evening. he happened to drink some black coffee,and couldn't sleep.Like Kekule with the carbon atoms,Poincare found mathematical expressions arising before him in crowds,combining and recombining.By the next morning,he had established a class of the functions that he had begun by denying.Then,a short time later, he left town to go on a geological excursion for several days."The changes of travel made me forget my mathematical word."One day during the excursion,though,he was carrying on a conversation as he was about to board a bus."At the moment when I put my foot on the step,the idea came to me,without anything in my former thoughts seeming to have paved the way for it,that the transformations I had used to define the Fuchsian functions were identical with those of non-Euclidian geometry."He did not try to prove the idea,but went right on with his conversation."But I felt a perfect certainty,"he wrote.When he got home,"for conscience's sake I verified the result at my leisure." Para.17:The quality of such moments of the mind has not often been described successfully:Charles P.Snow was a scientist as well as a novelist,and whenever his experience of science comes together with his writer's imagination his witness is authentic.In The Search,a novel about scientists at work,the protagonist makes a discovery for which he had long been striving. Then I was carried beyond pleasure....My own triumph and delight and success were there,but they seemed
danced for him again—but only the larger ones, this time, in long rows, “all twining and twisting in snakelike motion. But look! What was that? One of the sakes had seized hold of its own tale, and the form whirled mockingly before my eyes.” The chains and rings that carbon atoms form with each other are indeed the fundamental structures of organic chemistry. Para. 14:Several other scientists have told me that the fringes of sleep set the problem-sodden mind free to make uninhibited, bizarre, even random connections that may throw up the unexpected answer. One said that the technical trick that led to one of his most admired discoveries—it was about the fundamental molecular nature of genetic mutations—had sprung to mind while he was lying insomniac at three in the morning. Another said he was startled from a deep sleep one night by the fully worked-out answer to a puzzle that had blocked him for weeks—though at breakfast he was no longer able to remember any detail except the jubilant certainty. So the next night he went to sleep with paper and pencil on the bedside table; and when, once again, he awoke with the answer, he was able to seize it. Para. 15:More usually, however, in the classic strategy for achieving enlightenment the weeks of saturation must be followed by a second stage that begins when the problem is deliberately set aside. After several days of silence, the solution wells up. The mathematician Henri Poincare was unusually introspective about the process of discovery. (He also came nearer than anyone else to beating Einstein to the theory of relativity, except that in htat case, though he had the pieces of the problem, inspiration did not strike.) In 1908, Poincare gave a lecture, before the Psychological Society of Paris, about the psychology of mathematical invention, and there he described how he made some of his youthful discoveries. He reassured his audience, few of them mathematical: “I will tell you that I found the proof of a certain theorem in certain circumstances. The theorem will have a barbarous name, which many of you will never have heard of. But that’s of no importance, for what is interesting to the psychologist is not the theorem—it’s the circumstances.” Para. 16:The youthful discovery was about a class of mathematical functions which he named in honor of another mathematician, Lazarus Fuchs—but, as he said, the mathematical content is not important here. The young Poincare believed, and for fifteen days he strove to prove, that no functions of the type he was pondering could exist in mathematics. He struggled with the disproof for hours every day. One evening, he happened to drink some black coffee, and couldn’t sleep. Like Kekule with the carbon atoms, Poincare found mathematical expressions arising before him in crowds, combining and recombining. By the next morning, he had established a class of the functions that he had begun by denying. Then, a short time later, he left town to go on a geological excursion for several days. “The changes of travel made me forget my mathematical word.” One day during the excursion, though, he was carrying on a conversation as he was about to board a bus. “At the moment when I put my foot on the step, the idea came to me, without anything in my former thoughts seeming to have paved the way for it, that the transformations I had used to define the Fuchsian functions were identical with those of non-Euclidian geometry.” He did not try to prove the idea, but went right on with his conversation. “But I felt a perfect certainty,” he wrote. When he got home, “for conscience’s sake I verified the result at my leisure.” Para. 17:The quality of such moments of the mind has not often been described successfully; Charles P. Snow was a scientist as well as a novelist, and whenever his experience of science comes together with his writer’s imagination his witness is authentic. In The Search, a novel about scientists at work, the protagonist makes a discovery for which he had long been striving. Then I was carried beyond pleasure. … My own triumph and delight and success were there, but they seemed
insignificant beside this tranquil ecstasy.It was as though I had looked for a truth outside myself,and finding it had become for a moment a part of the truth I sought;as though all the world,the atoms and the stars,were wonderfully clear and close to me,and I to them,so that we were part of aa lucidity more tremendous than any mystery. I had never known that such a moment could exist....Since then I have never quite regained.But one effect will stay with me as long as I live;one,when I was young,I used to sneer at the mystics who have described the experience of being at one with God and part of the unity of things.After that afternoon,I did not want to laugh again;for though I should have interpreted the experience differently,I thought I knew what they meant. This experience beyond pleasure,like the dark night of the soul,has a name:the novelist Romain Rolland, in a letter to Sigmund Freud,called it"the oceanic sense of well-being". Para.18:Science is our century's art.Nearly 400 years ago,when modern science was just beginning,Francis Bacon wrote that "knowledge is power."Yet Bacon was not a scientist.He wrote as a bureaucrat in retirement.His slogan was actually the first clear statement of the promise by which,ever since,bureaucrats justify to each other and to king or taxpayer the spending of money on science. Knowledge is power:today we would say,less grandly,that science is essential to technology.Bacon's promise has been fulfilled abundantly,magnificently.The rage to know has been matched by the rage to make.Therefore-with the proviso,abundantly demonstrated,that it's rarely possible to predict which program of fundamental research will produce just what technology and when-the promise has brought scientists in the Western world unprecedented freedom of inquiry.Nonetheless,Bacon's promise hardly penetrates to the thing that moves most scientists.Science has several rewards,but the greatest is that it is the most interesting,difficult,pitiless,exciting,and beautiful pursuit that we have yet found.Science is our century's art. Para.19:The takeover can be dated more precisely than the beginning of most eras:Friday,June 30, 1905,will do,the day when Albert Einstein,a clerk in the Swiss patent office in Bern,submitted a thirty-one-page paper,"On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,"to the journal Annalen der Physik.No poem,no play,no piece of music written since then comes near the theory of relatively in its power,as one strains to apprehend it,to make the mind tremble with delight.Whereas fifty years ago it was often said that hardly two score people understood the theory of relativity,today its essential vision,as Einstein himself said,is within reach of any reasonably bright high school student-and that,too,is characteristic of the speed of assimilation of the new in the arts. Para.20:Consider also the molecular structure of that stuff of the gene,the celebrated double helix of deoxyribonucleic acid.This is two repetitive strands,one winding up,the other down,but hooked together, across the tube of space between them,by a sequence of pairs of chemical entities-just four sorts of these entities,making just two kinds of pairs,with exactly ten pairs to a full turn of the helix.It's a piece of sculpture.But observe how form and function are one.That sequence possesses a unique duality:one way, it allows the strands to part and each to assemble on itself,by the paring rules,a duplicate of the complementary strand;the other way,the sequence enciphers,in a four-letter alphabet,the entire specification for the substance of the organism.The structure thus encompasses both heredity and embryological growth,the passing-on of potential and its expression.The structure's elucidation,in March of 1953,was an event of such surpassing explanatory power that it will reverberate through whatever time mankind has remaining.The structure is also perfectly economical and splendidly elegant.There is no sculpture made in this century that is so entrancing
insignificant beside this tranquil ecstasy. It was as though I had looked for a truth outside myself, and finding it had become for a moment a part of the truth I sought; as though all the world, the atoms and the stars, were wonderfully clear and close to me, and I to them, so that we were part of a a lucidity more tremendous than any mystery. I had never known that such a moment could exist. … Since then I have never quite regained. But one effect will stay with me as long as I live; one, when I was young, I used to sneer at the mystics who have described the experience of being at one with God and part of the unity of things. After that afternoon, I did not want to laugh again; for though I should have interpreted the experience differently, I thought I knew what they meant. This experience beyond pleasure, like the dark night of the soul, has a name: the novelist Romain Rolland, in a letter to Sigmund Freud, called it “the oceanic sense of well-being”. Para. 18: Science is our century’s art. Nearly 400 years ago, when modern science was just beginning, Francis Bacon wrote that “knowledge is power.” Yet Bacon was not a scientist. He wrote as a bureaucrat in retirement. His slogan was actually the first clear statement of the promise by which, ever since, bureaucrats justify to each other and to king or taxpayer the spending of money on science. Knowledge is power: today we would say, less grandly, that science is essential to technology. Bacon’s promise has been fulfilled abundantly, magnificently. The rage to know has been matched by the rage to make. Therefore—with the proviso, abundantly demonstrated, that it’s rarely possible to predict which program of fundamental research will produce just what technology and when—the promise has brought scientists in the Western world unprecedented freedom of inquiry. Nonetheless, Bacon’s promise hardly penetrates to the thing that moves most scientists. Science has several rewards, but the greatest is that it is the most interesting, difficult, pitiless, exciting, and beautiful pursuit that we have yet found. Science is our century’s art. Para. 19:The takeover can be dated more precisely than the beginning of most eras: Friday, June 30, 1905, will do, the day when Albert Einstein, a clerk in the Swiss patent office in Bern, submitted a thirty-one-page paper, “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,” to the journal Annalen der Physik. No poem, no play, no piece of music written since then comes near the theory of relatively in its power, as one strains to apprehend it, to make the mind tremble with delight. Whereas fifty years ago it was often said that hardly two score people understood the theory of relativity, today its essential vision, as Einstein himself said, is within reach of any reasonably bright high school student—and that, too, is characteristic of the speed of assimilation of the new in the arts. Para. 20:Consider also the molecular structure of that stuff of the gene, the celebrated double helix of deoxyribonucleic acid. This is two repetitive strands, one winding up, the other down, but hooked together, across the tube of space between them, by a sequence of pairs of chemical entities—just four sorts of these entities, making just two kinds of pairs, with exactly ten pairs to a full turn of the helix. It’s a piece of sculpture. But observe how form and function are one. That sequence possesses a unique duality: one way, it allows the strands to part and each to assemble on itself, by the paring rules, a duplicate of the complementary strand; the other way, the sequence enciphers, in a four-letter alphabet, the entire specification for the substance of the organism. The structure thus encompasses both heredity and embryological growth, the passing-on of potential and its expression. The structure’s elucidation, in March of 1953, was an event of such surpassing explanatory power that it will reverberate through whatever time mankind has remaining. The structure is also perfectly economical and splendidly elegant. There is no sculpture made in this century that is so entrancing
Para.21:If to compare science to art seems-in the last quarter of this century-to undervalue what science does,that must be,at least partly,because we now expect art to do so little.Before our century, everyone naturally supposed that the artist imitates nature.Aristotle had said so;the idea was obvious,it had flourished and evolved for 2000 years;those who thought about it added that the artist imitates not just nature as it accidently happens but as it has to be.Yet today that describes the scientist."Scientific reasoning,"Medawar also said,"is a constant interplay or interaction between hypotheses and the logical expectations they give rise to:there is a restless to-and-fro-motion of thought,the formulation and reformulation of hypotheses,until we arrive at a hypothesis which,to the best of our prevailing knowledge, will satisfactorily meet the case."Thus far,change only the term "hypothesis"and Medawar described well the experience the painter or the poet has of his own work."Scientific reasoning is a kind of dialogue between the possible and the actual,between what might be and what is in fact the case,"he went on-and there the difference lies.The scientist enjoys the harsher discipline of what is and is not the case.It is he, rather than the painter or the poet in this century,who pursues in its stringent form the imitation of nature. Para.22:Many scientists-mathematicians and physicists especially-hold that beauty in a theory is itself almost a form of proof.They speak,for example,of"elegance."Paul Dirac predicted the existence of antimatter (what would science fiction be without him?)several years before any form of it was observed. He won a share in the Nobel Prize in physics in 1933 for the work that included that prediction."It is most important to have beauty in one's equation than to have them fit experiment,"Dirac wrote many years later. "It seems that if one is working from the point of view of getting beauty in one's equations,and if one has really a sound insight,one is on a sure line of progress." Para.23:Here the scientist parts company with the artist.The insight must be sound.The dialogue is between what might be and what is in fact the case.The scientist is trying to get the thing right.The world is there Para.24:And so are other scientists.The social system of science begins with the apprenticeship of the graduate student with a group of his peers and elders in the laboratory of a senior scientist;it continues to collaboration at the bench or the blackboard,and on to formal publication-which is a formal invitation to criticism.The most fundamental function of the social system of science is to enlarge the interplay between imagination and judgment from a private into a public activity.The oceanic feeling of well-being, the true touchstone of the artist,is for the scientist,even the most fortunate and gifted,only the midpoint of the process of doing science. Notes 1.The structure of DNA was discovered by James Watson and Francis Crick. 2.Francois Jacob(1920-),French biologist who,with Andre Lwoff and Jacques Monod,won the 1965 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine in recognition for discoveries concerning regulatory activities in bacteria. 3.Isaac Newton (1642-1727),English mathematician and natural philosopher whose scientific discoveries include the method of fluxions,which forms the basis of modern calculus;the law of the composition of light;and the law of universal gravitation. 4.Albert Einstein(1879-1955),German-born,Swiss-educated American physicist. Question about the content
Para. 21:If to compare science to art seems—in the last quarter of this century—to undervalue what science does, that must be, at least partly, because we now expect art to do so little. Before our century, everyone naturally supposed that the artist imitates nature. Aristotle had said so; the idea was obvious, it had flourished and evolved for 2000 years; those who thought about it added that the artist imitates not just nature as it accidently happens but as it has to be. Yet today that describes the scientist. “Scientific reasoning,” Medawar also said, “is a constant interplay or interaction between hypotheses and the logical expectations they give rise to: there is a restless to-and-fro- motion of thought, the formulation and reformulation of hypotheses, until we arrive at a hypothesis which, to the best of our prevailing knowledge, will satisfactorily meet the case.” Thus far, change only the term “hypothesis” and Medawar described well the experience the painter or the poet has of his own work. “Scientific reasoning is a kind of dialogue between the possible and the actual, between what might be and what is in fact the case,” he went on—and there the difference lies. The scientist enjoys the harsher discipline of what is and is not the case. It is he, rather than the painter or the poet in this century, who pursues in its stringent form the imitation of nature. Para. 22:Many scientists—mathematicians and physicists especially—hold that beauty in a theory is itself almost a form of proof. They speak, for example, of “elegance.” Paul Dirac predicted the existence of antimatter (what would science fiction be without him?) several years before any form of it was observed. He won a share in the Nobel Prize in physics in 1933 for the work that included that prediction. “It is most important to have beauty in one’s equation than to have them fit experiment,” Dirac wrote many years later. “It seems that if one is working from the point of view of getting beauty in one’s equations, and if one has really a sound insight, one is on a sure line of progress.” Para. 23:Here the scientist parts company with the artist. The insight must be sound. The dialogue is between what might be and what is in fact the case. The scientist is trying to get the thing right. The world is there. Para. 24:And so are other scientists. The social system of science begins with the apprenticeship of the graduate student with a group of his peers and elders in the laboratory of a senior scientist; it continues to collaboration at the bench or the blackboard, and on to formal publication—which is a formal invitation to criticism. The most fundamental function of the social system of science is to enlarge the interplay between imagination and judgment from a private into a public activity. The oceanic feeling of well-being, the true touchstone of the artist, is for the scientist, even the most fortunate and gifted, only the midpoint of the process of doing science. Notes 1. The structure of DNA was discovered by James Watson and Francis Crick. 2. Francois Jacob (1920— ), French biologist who, with Andre Lwoff and Jacques Monod, won the 1965 Nobel Prize for Physiology or Medicine in recognition for discoveries concerning regulatory activities in bacteria. 3. Isaac Newton (1642—1727), English mathematician and natural philosopher whose scientific discoveries include the method of fluxions, which forms the basis of modern calculus; the law of the composition of light; and the law of universal gravitation. 4. Albert Einstein (1879—1955), German-born, Swiss-educated American physicist. Question about the content
1.In the third paragraph Judson asserts,"Science is enormously disparate-easily the most varied and diverse of human pursuits."Does this view of science correspond with what you have been taught or have experienced(about science,and about diversity)?How does Judson support his assertion? 2.What do you take "the scientific method"to mean?To what extent does that notion correspond with Judson's description of how science is done? 3.At several points Judson asserts a connection between doing science and experiencing pleasure.Is this connection important to his essay?Indicate the several links he asserts between science and pleasure. 4.Pay attention to the blank lines before Par.6,Par.11 and Par.18,what is the function of these blanks? 5.How could the expression"the oceanic sense of well-being"be interpreted?Are there any other similar expressions within the passage? Essay questions 1.Judson begins paragraph 18 with the sentence"Science is our century's art"and closes it with the same sentence.What purpose is served by this repetition?Is it effective? 2.Judson implies that there may be a considerable difference between the way a piece of scientific work is presented(in a scientific journal,for example)and what actually happened in the course of that work If you are taking a science course,compare the official report you turned in after an experiment with your narrative of what actually happened.Alternatively,interview one of your science professors about a research project that he or she published.Write up your interview and compare it with the published research.What are the differences?
1. In the third paragraph Judson asserts, “Science is enormously disparate—easily the most varied and diverse of human pursuits.” Does this view of science correspond with what you have been taught or have experienced (about science, and about diversity)? How does Judson support his assertion? 2. What do you take “the scientific method” to mean? To what extent does that notion correspond with Judson’s description of how science is done? 3. At several points Judson asserts a connection between doing science and experiencing pleasure. Is this connection important to his essay? Indicate the several links he asserts between science and pleasure. 4. Pay attention to the blank lines before Par.6, Par. 11 and Par. 18, what is the function of these blanks? 5. How could the expression “the oceanic sense of well-being” be interpreted? Are there any other similar expressions within the passage? Essay questions 1. Judson begins paragraph 18 with the sentence “Science is our century’s art” and closes it with the same sentence. What purpose is served by this repetition? Is it effective? 2. Judson implies that there may be a considerable difference between the way a piece of scientific work is presented (in a scientific journal, for example) and what actually happened in the course of that work. If you are taking a science course, compare the official report you turned in after an experiment with your narrative of what actually happened. Alternatively, interview one of your science professors about a research project that he or she published. Write up your interview and compare it with the published research. What are the differences?