Isn't it remarkable that in a world mired in unwarranted hatred, threatening civilization itself, men and women, young and old, partially or fully detach themselves from the malevolent flow of everyday life to dedicate themselves to cultivating beauty, spreading knowledge, healing ailments, and alleviating suffering, as if at the same time there are fanatics multiplying pain, distortion, and torment? The world has always been a sad and convoluted place, yet poets, artists, and scientists ignored factors that, if acknowledged, would paralyze them. From a practical standpoint, intellectual and spiritual life seems, at first glance, a futile pursuit, and people engage in it because it brings a greater degree of satisfaction than the alternative. In this work, I am interested in the question of when the pursuit of these seemingly useless joys unexpectedly becomes a source of some kind of purpose that one could not even dream of.
We are repeatedly told that our age is one of materialism. The essence of it lies in the expansion of distribution chains for material goods and worldly opportunities. The outrage of those who are innocent of being deprived of these opportunities and the fair distribution of goods drives a significant number of students away from the sciences their fathers studied, towards equally important and relevant subjects that examine social, economic, and governmental issues. I have no objection to such a trend. The world we live in is the only world we have in sensation. If we do not improve it and make it fairer, millions will continue to leave life quietly, in sorrow and bitterness. For many years, I have implored that our schools have a clear understanding of the world in which their students are destined to live. Sometimes I wonder if this current has become too strong, and whether there will be enough opportunities for a fulfilling life if we rid the world of useless things that lend it spiritual significance. In other words, have our concepts of what is useful become too narrow to accommodate the changing and unpredictable possibilities of the human spirit?
This question can be approached from two sides: the scientific and the humanistic, or spiritual. Let's first consider the scientific perspective. I recalled a conversation I had several years ago with George Eastman about usefulness. Mr. Eastman, a wise, polite, and visionary man endowed with musical and artistic taste, told me that he intended to invest his vast fortune in promoting the education of useful subjects. I dared to ask him whom he considers the most useful person in the world of science. He replied immediately: "Marconi." And I said, "No matter how much pleasure we derive from radio and how much other wireless technologies enrich human life, Marconi's contribution is actually quite insignificant."
I cannot forget his astonished face. He asked me to explain. I replied something like, "Mr. Eastman, the arrival of Marconi was inevitable. The real credit for everything done in the field of wireless technology, if such fundamental awards can be given to anyone, goes to Professor Clerk Maxwell, who in 1865 conducted some incomprehensible and difficult computations in the realm of magnetism and electricity. Maxwell presented his abstract formulas in his scientific work published in 1873. At the next meeting of the British Association, Professor G.D.S. Smith from Oxford announced that 'no mathematician, leafing through these papers, can fail to recognize that this work presents a theory that significantly complements the methods and tools of pure mathematics.' Over the following 15 years, other discoveries complemented Maxwell's theory. Finally, in 1887 and 1888, Heinrich Hertz, a researcher at the Helmholtz Laboratory in Berlin, solved the then-relevant scientific problem concerning the identification and proof of electromagnetic waves, which carry wireless signals. Neither Maxwell nor Hertz considered the utility of their work. Such a thought simply did not cross their minds. They did not have a practical goal. The inventor in the legal sense is, of course, Marconi. But what did he actually invent? Only the last technical detail, which today is an obsolete receiving device called a 'coherer,' of which almost everywhere has been abandoned.
Hertz and Maxwell may not have invented anything, but it was their seemingly useless theoretical work that a clever engineer stumbled upon, which created new means of communication and entertainment, allowing people with relatively small contributions to gain fame and earn millions. Who was truly useful? Not Marconi, but Clerk Maxwell and Heinrich Hertz. They were the geniuses who did not think of usefulness, while Marconi was a clever inventor focused only on profit.
Hertz's name reminded Mr. Eastman of radio waves, and I suggested he ask the physicists at the University of Rochester about what exactly Hertz and Maxwell did. But one thing he can be sure of is that they completed their work without thinking about practical applications. Throughout the history of science, most truly great discoveries that turned out to be extremely beneficial for humanity were made by people driven not by a desire to be useful, but by a mere desire to satisfy their curiosity.
Curiosity? — Mr. Eastman asked.
Yes, — I replied, — curiosity that may or may not lead to something useful, and which may perhaps be an outstanding characteristic of modern thought. And it did not appear yesterday; it originated back in the time of Galileo, Bacon, and Sir Isaac Newton, and it must remain absolutely free. Educational institutions should focus on cultivating curiosity. And the less they are distracted by thoughts of the immediacy of application, the more likely they will contribute not only to people's well-being but, equally important, to the satisfaction of intellectual interest, which can be said to have already become the driving force of intellectual life in the modern world.
II
Everything said about Heinrich Hertz, about how he quietly and inconspicuously worked in the corner of the Helmholtz laboratory in the late 19th century, is true for scientists and mathematicians around the world, living several centuries ago. Our world is helpless without electricity. If we talk about a discovery with the most immediate and promising practical application, we can agree that it is electricity. But who made those fundamental discoveries that led to the emergence of all developments based on electricity in the following hundred years?
The answer will be interesting. Michael Faraday's father was a blacksmith, and Michael himself was an apprentice bookbinder. In 1812, when he was already 21 years old, a friend took him to the Royal Institute, where he attended 4 lectures on chemistry by Humphry Davy. He took notes and sent copies to Davy. The following year, he became Davy's assistant in the laboratory, solving chemical problems. Two years later, he accompanied Davy on a trip to the continent. In 1825, at the age of 24, he became the director of the Royal Institute's laboratory, where he spent 54 years of his life.
Soon Faraday's interests shifted towards electricity and magnetism, to which he devoted the remainder of his life. Previously, important but difficult work in this field had been conducted by Ørsted, Ampère, and Wollaston. Faraday tackled the difficulties they had left unresolved, and by 1841, he excelled in the study of electrical induction. Four years later, a second equally brilliant phase in his career began when he discovered the influence of magnetism on polarized light. His early discoveries led to countless practical applications, where electricity reduced burdens and expanded possibilities in modern life. Thus, his later discoveries led to much fewer practical results. Did anything change for Faraday? Absolutely nothing. His usefulness did not concern him at any stage of his unparalleled career. He was absorbed in unraveling the mysteries of the universe: first from the realm of chemistry, and then from the world of physics. He never questioned usefulness. Any hint of it would have limited his insatiable curiosity. In the end, the results of his work did find practical application, but this was never a criterion for his continuous experiments.
Given the sentiments enveloping the world today, it's perhaps time to highlight the fact that the role science plays in transforming war into an increasingly destructive and horrifying act has become an unconscious and unintentional byproduct of scientific activity. Lord Rayleigh, President of the British Association for the Advancement of Science, recently pointed out that it is human folly, rather than the intentions of scientists, that is responsible for the destructive use of individuals recruited to partake in modern warfare. The innocent study of carbon chemistry, which has found countless applications, has shown that the effects of nitric acid on substances such as benzene, glycerin, cellulose, etc., have led not only to the emergence of beneficial aniline dye production but also to the creation of nitroglycerin, which can be used for both good and harm. Shortly after, Alfred Nobel, examining this same issue, demonstrated that by mixing nitroglycerin with other substances, safe-to-use solid explosives could be produced, particularly dynamite. It is to dynamite that we owe our progress in mining and the construction of railway tunnels that now penetrate the Alps and other mountain ranges. However, politicians and soldiers have certainly abused dynamite. Blaming scientists for this would be akin to accusing them of earthquakes and floods. The same can be said for poison gas. Pliny perished from inhaling sulfur dioxide during the eruption of Mount Vesuvius nearly 2000 years ago. And chlorine was not isolated by scientists for military purposes. This is equally true for mustard gas. The use of these substances could have been restricted to noble causes, but when aircraft were improved, people whose hearts were poisoned and minds corrupted realized that the airplane, an innocent invention resulting from long-term impartial and scientific efforts, could be turned into a tool for such large-scale destruction that no one had even dreamt of, let alone aimed for.
In the field of higher mathematics, one can cite almost countless such cases. For example, the most obscure mathematical work of the 18th and 19th centuries was called 'Non-Euclidean Geometry'. Its creator, Gauss, although recognized by his contemporaries as an outstanding mathematician, hesitated to publish his works on 'Non-Euclidean Geometry' for a quarter of a century. In fact, the theory of relativity, with all its infinite practical implications, would have been completely impossible without the work that Gauss did during his time in Göttingen.
Again, what is known today as 'group theory' was an abstract and inapplicable mathematical theory. It was developed by curious individuals whose inquisitiveness and tinkering led them down this strange path. But today, 'group theory' serves as the foundation for quantum spectroscopy, which is used daily by people who have no idea how it came about.
The entire theory of probability was discovered by mathematicians whose true interest was to rationalize gambling. It didn't yield practical applications at first, but it laid the groundwork for all kinds of insurance and served as the basis for vast areas of physics in the 19th century.
I will quote from a recent issue of Science:
"The value of the genius of Professor Albert Einstein reached new heights when it became known that the physicist-mathematician developed a mathematical framework 15 years ago that now helps unravel the mysteries of helium's remarkable ability not to solidify at temperatures close to absolute zero. Even before the symposium of the American Chemical Society on intermolecular interactions, Professor F. London from the University of Paris, now a visiting professor at Duke University, attributed to Professor Einstein the credit for creating the concept of the 'ideal' gas, which appeared in works published in 1924 and 1925.
Einstein's reports from 1925 were not about the theory of relativity, but rather about problems that seemed to have no practical significance at the time. They described the degeneration of 'ideal' gas at the lower limits of the temperature scale. Since it was known that all gases transition to a liquid state at the temperatures in question, scientists likely overlooked Einstein's work from fifteen years earlier.
However, a recent discovery in the dynamics of liquid helium has added new value to Einstein's concept, which had remained sidelined all this time. When cooled, most liquids exhibit increased viscosity, decreased fluidity, and become stickier. In layman's terms, viscosity is often described as 'colder than molasses in January', which is actually true.
Meanwhile, liquid helium is a disheartening exception. At a temperature known as the 'delta point', which is just 2.19 degrees above absolute zero, liquid helium flows better than at higher temperatures and is, in fact, almost as transparent as gas. Another mystery in its strange behavior is its high thermal conductivity. At the delta point, it is 500 times greater than that of copper at room temperature. With all of its anomalies, liquid helium represents a major puzzle for physicists and chemists.
Professor London stated that the dynamics of liquid helium are best interpreted through the perception of it as an ideal Bose-Einstein gas, utilizing the mathematical framework developed in 1924-25, while also considering the concept of electrical conductivity in metals. Through simple analogies, the remarkable fluidity of liquid helium can only be partially explained by depicting fluidity as somewhat analogous to the wandering of electrons in metals when explaining electrical conductivity.
Let's look at the situation from a different perspective. In the field of medicine and healthcare, bacteriology has played a leading role for half a century. What is its history? After the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, the German government established the great University of Strasbourg. Its first professor of anatomy was Wilhelm von Waldeyer, who later became a professor of anatomy in Berlin. In his memoirs, he noted that among the students who traveled with him to Strasbourg during his first semester was an unassuming, independent, short young man of seventeen named Paul Ehrlich. The usual anatomy course consisted of dissection and microscopic examination of tissues. Ehrlich paid little attention to dissection, but as Waldeyer noted in his memoirs:
«I almost immediately noticed that Ehrlich could work at his desk for long periods, completely immersed in microscopic research. Moreover, his desk gradually became covered with colorful spots of all kinds. When I once saw him at work, I approached him and asked what he was doing with all this colorful assortment. The young first-semester student, most likely studying the standard anatomy course, looked at me and politely answered, 'Ich probiere.' This phrase can be translated as 'I am trying' or 'I am just fooling around.' I told him, 'Very well, keep fooling around.' Soon I realized that without any guidance from my side, I had discovered in Ehrlich a student of extraordinary caliber.»
Waldeyer acted wisely when he left him alone. Ehrlich made his way through the medical program with varying success and finally graduated mainly because it was obvious to his teachers that he had no intention of practicing medicine. He then went to Wroclaw, where he worked with Professor Conheim, who taught our Dr. Welch, the founder and creator of the Johns Hopkins Medical School. I don't think the idea of utility ever crossed Ehrlich's mind. He was curious. He was inquisitive; and continued to play around. Of course, this play was driven by a deep instinct, but it was exclusively a scientific, not a utilitarian motivation. What did it lead to? Koch and his assistants founded a new science – bacteriology. Now Ehrlich's experiments were conducted by his classmate Weigert. He stained the bacteria, which helped distinguish them. Ehrlich himself developed a method of multicolor staining of blood smears with dyes, which laid the foundation of our modern knowledge of the morphology of blood cells: red and white. And every day thousands of hospitals around the world use Ehrlich's technique in blood investigations. Thus, aimless play in Waldeyer's dissection room in Strasbourg grew into a cornerstone of daily medical practice.
I will provide one example from the industry, chosen at random, as there are dozens. Professor Berl from Carnegie Mellon Institute (Pittsburgh) writes the following:
The founder of modern synthetic fabric production is the French Count de Chardonnet. It is known that he used a solution
III
I am not saying that everything happening in laboratories will ultimately find unexpected practical applications, or that practical application is the real justification for all activity. I defend the abolition of the word 'application' and the liberation of the human spirit. Of course, we will thereby free benign eccentrics. Certainly, we will waste a certain amount of money. But what is much more important is that we will free the human mind from shackles, releasing it to face adventures that, on one hand, took Hale, Rutherford, Einstein, and their colleagues millions and millions of kilometers deep into the most remote corners of space, and on the other hand, unleashed boundless energy trapped within the atom. What Rutherford, Bohr, Millikan, and other scientists did out of pure curiosity in an attempt to understand atomic structure unleashed forces capable of transforming human life. But it should be understood that such an ultimate and unpredictable result is not a justification for the activities of Rutherford, Einstein, Millikan, Bohr, or any of their colleagues. But let’s leave them alone. Perhaps no educational leader is capable of setting a direction within which certain individuals should work. The losses, and I acknowledge this again, seem colossal, but in reality, it is not so. All total expenditures in the development of bacteriology are nothing compared to the benefits gained from the discoveries of Pasteur, Koch, Ehrlich, Theobald Smith, and others. This would not have happened if the thought of possible application had seized their minds. These great masters, namely, scientists and bacteriologists, created an atmosphere in laboratories where they simply followed their natural curiosity. I am not criticizing institutions such as engineering schools or law schools, where utility inevitably dominates. Often the situation changes, and practical challenges faced in industry or laboratories stimulate the emergence of theoretical inquiries that may or may not solve the assigned task but can suggest new ways of looking at problems. These perspectives may seem useless at the moment, but they hold the seeds of future achievements, both in practical and theoretical terms.
With the rapid accumulation of 'useless' or theoretical knowledge, a situation arose where it became possible to begin addressing practical problems with a scientific approach. Not only inventors but also 'true' scientists indulge in this. I mentioned Marconi, the inventor who, as a benefactor for the human race, essentially 'took advantage of others' brains.' Edison belongs to the same category. Pasteur was different. He was a great scientist, but he did not shy away from tackling practical issues such as the state of French grapes or brewing problems. Pasteur not only dealt with urgent difficulties but also drew some promising theoretical conclusions from practical tasks—conclusions that were 'useless' at the time but were likely to be 'useful' in unforeseen ways in the future. Ehrlich, a thinker by nature, energetically took on the problem of syphilis and worked on it with rare stubbornness until he found a solution with immediate practical application (the drug 'Salvarsan'). The discovery of insulin by Banting for the treatment of diabetes, as well as the liver extract resulting from the collaboration of Minot and Whipple for the treatment of pernicious anemia, belong to the same class: both discoveries were made by scientists who understood how much 'useless' knowledge had been accumulated by individuals indifferent to practical significance, and that it was the most opportune time to ask questions about practicality in scientific terms.
Thus, it becomes clear that caution is needed when scientific discoveries are wholly attributed to one individual. Almost every discovery is preceded by a long and complex history. Someone finds something here, another—there. At the third step, success is achieved, and so on, until someone's genius gathers everything together and makes their decisive contribution. Science, like the Mississippi River, originates from small streams in some distant forest. Gradually, other flows increase its volume. Thus, from countless sources, a noisy river is formed that breaks through the dams.
I cannot cover this issue comprehensively, but I can briefly say this: over the span of a century or two, the contribution of vocational schools to the relevant fields will likely consist not so much in training individuals who may become practicing engineers, lawyers, or doctors tomorrow, but rather in the fact that even in the pursuit of purely practical objectives, a tremendous amount of seemingly useless work will be accomplished. From this useless activity emerge discoveries that may prove to be incomparably more important for the human mind and spirit than the practical goals for which these schools were created.
The factors I have outlined highlight, if such emphasis is necessary, the colossal significance of spiritual and intellectual freedom. I mentioned experimental science and mathematics, but my statements are equally true with respect to music, art, and other means of expressing the free human spirit. The fact that this brings satisfaction to the soul yearning for purification and elevation is the essential foundation. In justifying this way, without explicitly or implicitly referring to usefulness, we define the reasons for the existence of colleges, universities, and research institutes. Institutions that liberate subsequent generations of human souls have every right to exist, regardless of whether any given graduate makes a so-called useful contribution to human knowledge. A poem, a symphony, a painting, a mathematical truth, a new scientific fact—all of these already carry the necessary justification that universities, colleges, and research institutes require.
The subject of discussion currently holds a particular sharpness. In certain areas (especially in Germany and Italy), there are efforts to restrict the freedom of the human spirit. Universities have been transformed into instruments in the hands of those who adhere to specific political, economic, or racial beliefs. From time to time, some carefree individual in one of the few remaining democracies in this world even questions the fundamental importance of absolute academic freedom. The true enemy of humanity does not hide in the fearless and irresponsible thinker, whether right or wrong. The true enemy is the person who tries to seal the human spirit so that it cannot dare to spread its wings, as once happened in Italy and Germany, as well as in the UK and the USA.
And this thought is not new. It was this very idea that prompted von Humboldt to establish the University of Berlin when Napoleon was conquering Germany. It was this idea that inspired President Gilman to open Johns Hopkins University, after which every university in this country sought to reshape itself to some degree. Every person who values their immortal soul will remain true to this idea, come what may. However, the reasons for spiritual freedom extend far beyond authenticity, whether in science or humanism, as it implies tolerance for the diverse range of human differences. What could be more foolish or absurd than preferences and aversions based on race or religion throughout human history? Do people desire symphonies, paintings, and profound scientific truths, or do they need Christian symphonies, paintings, and science, or Jewish, or Muslim? Or perhaps Egyptian, Japanese, Chinese, American, German, Russian, communist, or conservative expressions of the infinite wealth of the human soul?
IV
I believe that one of the most striking and immediate consequences of intolerance towards everything foreign is the rapid development of the Institute for Advanced Study, founded in 1930 by Louis Bamberger and his sister Felix Fuld in Princeton, New Jersey. Its location in Princeton was partly due to the founders' commitment to the state, but as far as I can tell, also because the city had a small but excellent graduate school that allowed for the closest collaboration. The Institute owes so much to Princeton University that it will never be fully appreciated. The Institute began operations in 1933, once a significant portion of its staff had been recruited. Its faculty included prominent American scholars: mathematicians Veblen, Alexander, and Morse; humanists Merritt, Levi, and Miss Goldman; and journalists and economists Stuart, Riefler, Warren, Earl, and Mitrany. Additionally, it should be noted that there were equally significant scholars who had already developed at the university, library, and laboratories in the city of Princeton. However, the Institute for Advanced Study owes a debt to Hitler for mathematicians Einstein, Weyl, and von Neumann; for representatives of the humanities like Hertzfeld and Panofsky, as well as a number of young individuals who have been influenced by this outstanding group over the last six years, further strengthening the position of American education across the country.
An institute, from the organizational perspective, is the simplest and least formal institution that can be imagined. It consists of three faculties: mathematics, humanities, and economics and political science. Each of them includes a permanent group of professors and a yearly changing group of staff. Each faculty manages its affairs as it sees fit. Within the group, each person decides how to allocate their time and distribute their efforts. Staff members who arrived from 22 countries and 39 universities were accepted in the U.S. if they were considered worthy candidates, by several groups. They were granted the same level of freedom as professors. They could work with a particular professor by agreement; they were also allowed to work independently, consulting occasionally with someone who could be of help.
No routines, no divisions between professors, institute members, or visitors. Students and professors from Princeton University, as well as members and professors of the Institute for Advanced Study blended so effortlessly that they were practically indistinguishable. A culture of learning was fostered for its own sake. Outcomes for individuals and society were not of concern. No meetings, no committees. Thus, people with ideas enjoyed conditions that fostered reflection and exchange of opinions. A mathematician could engage in mathematics without any distractions. The same is true for humanists, economists, and political scientists. The size and significance of the administrative department were minimized. Those without ideas or the ability to concentrate on them would feel uncomfortable in this institute.
Perhaps I can briefly clarify by providing the following quotes. In order to attract a Harvard professor to work at Princeton, a salary was allocated, and he wrote: "What are my responsibilities?" I replied: "No responsibilities, only opportunities."
A capable young mathematician, after spending a year at Princeton University, came to say goodbye to me. Just as he was about to leave, he said:
— You might be interested to know what this year meant to me.
— Yes, — I replied.
— Mathematics, — he continued. – is rapidly evolving; there is a vast amount of literature. It has been 10 years since I was awarded my doctorate. For a while, I kept pace with my research subject, but recently it has become significantly more challenging, and I’ve felt a sense of uncertainty. Now, after a year spent here, my eyes have opened. I see a glimmer of hope, and breathing has become easier. I am contemplating two papers that I intend to publish soon.
— How long will this last? – I asked.
— Maybe five years, possibly ten.
— And what after that?
— I will return here.
And a third example from recent times. A professor from a major Western university arrived in Princeton at the end of December last year. He planned to resume work with Professor Morey (from Princeton University). But he was advised to reach out to Panofsky and Swazhensky (from the Institute for Advanced Study). And now he is working with all three.
— I must stay, — he added. – Until next October.
— It will be hot for you here in the summer, — I said.
— I will be too busy and too happy to pay attention to that.
Thus, freedom does not lead to stagnation, but it carries the risk of overwork. Recently, the wife of an English member of the Institute asked: "Do people really work until two in the morning?"
Until now, the Institute has not had its own buildings. At the moment, mathematicians are hosted in Fine Hall of the Princeton Department of Mathematics; some representatives from the humanities are in McCormick Hall; others work in various corners of the city. Economists currently occupy a hall in the Princeton Hotel. My office is located in an office building on Nassau Street, among shop owners, dentists, lawyers, practitioners of chiropractic, as well as scholars from Princeton University conducting research on local authorities and the population. Bricks and beams do not matter, as President Gilman proved in Baltimore about 60 years ago. Nevertheless, we lack communication with one another. This shortcoming will be addressed when a separate building called Fuld Hall is constructed for us, which the founders of the institute are already working on. But this is where the formalities must end. The Institute must remain a small institution, and it will adhere to the belief that its collective wants to have free time, feel secure, and be free from organizational issues and routine, and finally, there must be opportunities for informal communication with scholars from Princeton University and others who may occasionally be lured to Princeton from distant regions. Among those individuals were Niels Bohr from Copenhagen, von Laue from Berlin, Levi-Civita from Rome, André Weil from Strasbourg, Dirac and G. H. Hardy from Cambridge, Pauli from Zurich, Lemaître from Leuven, Wade-Gery from Oxford, as well as Americans from Harvard, Yale, Columbia, Cornell, Chicago, California, Johns Hopkins University, and other centers of light and enlightenment.
We do not make promises to ourselves, but we cherish the hope that the unimpeded pursuit of useless knowledge will reflect on both the future and the past. However, we do not use this argument in defense of the institute. It has become a paradise for scholars, who, like poets and musicians, have gained the right to do everything as they wish, and who achieve more if they are allowed to do so.
Translation: Shchekotova Yana
Source: habr.com
