<i>The Two Cultures</i> and The Abacus And The Rose
This month marks the 50th anniversary of C.P. Snow's famous Rede Lecture, "The Two Cultures And The Scientific Revolution." A half-century later, the term "two cultures" is still well remembered, but many of the details, both of the history and of the philosophical foundations of the dispute--and the contributions of my hero, the scientist, philosopher, and future television celebrity Jacob Bronowski--have largely been forgotten.
17 Comments
Glen Davidson · 27 May 2009
Too much of the "New Atheism" suffers from the "two cultures problem." Many people value their belief systems, an ill-defined spirituality, and the wish for "more" than material success, and are not especially pleased with the "no to all of that" of "New Atheism."
A greater appreciation for the humanities, and even of religion, might make science more palatable. I don't much blame the "New Atheists" for calling what is stupid exactly that, "stupid." Yet the "human spirit" is not stupid, it just has desires which are not going to be fulfilled simply by more knowledge and more stuff.
Of course the fundamentalists and their ilk badly suffer from "two cultures." Rarely does the plea, "but how would you do science with ID?" even register with these people, since they just want their dogma. But I've focused mostly on our side because the problems with the creationists and other IDiots is pretty much a given, while the blindness to what people want of many scientists could, theoretically, be reduced.
As Tom Robbins wrote in Another Roadside Attraction, science gives us what we need, magic gives us what we want. Well, sadly, magic doesn't really do that either, yet the wanting remains. This we must keep in mind.
Glen Davidson
http://tinyurl.com/6mb592
Torbjörn Larsson, OM · 27 May 2009
Glen Davidson · 27 May 2009
John Kwok · 27 May 2009
Glen,
Thanks for your most insightful remarks, but if my memory serves, Snow was a physicist who became quite conversant with the humanities too. I suppose that it took someone like him to discern the possibility that science and the humanities were diverging into two separate, but equal, "cultures".
Appreciatively yours,
John
Glen Davidson · 27 May 2009
Glen Davidson · 27 May 2009
John Kwok · 27 May 2009
This is a bit off-topic, but still consistent with its spirit:
The Society for the Study of Evolution is honoring National Center for Science Education Executive Director Eugenie Scott as its first recipient of the Stephen Jay Gould Prize. According to its citation, she is being honored for these reasons:
"As the executive director of the National Center for Science Education she has been in the forefront of battles to ensure that public education clearly distinguishes science from non-science and that the principles of evolution are taught in all biology courses. ... In these efforts, she has been an important leader in the public sphere, molding and focusing the efforts of scientists, educators, lay people, religious groups, skeptics, agnostics, believers, scholars, and ordinary citizens through firm but gentle guidance. ... Dr. Scott is a gifted communicator and public intellectual. She is a frequent guest on radio and television shows, and an eloquent spokeswoman for science. Her writings have illuminated the process of science to thousands, and her books have exposed the efforts of many groups in our society to hobble and undermine the teaching of science to our younger generation. The organization she helped create far transcends the considerable reach of her own voice, vastly amplifying her impact on public understanding. For these many reasons, it is extremely appropriate that Dr. Scott be the first recipient of the Gould Prize."
Mike · 27 May 2009
Dave Luckett · 27 May 2009
And yet here is one trained in the humanities who would be ashamed not to be aware (for example) of the Second Law of Thermodynamics. I know three professional historians who think the same, and none who think different, and I know of no historian who dismisses the need for a detailed knowledge of the technology and theoretical knowledge available to the societies he or she studies (although that is not to say that they accept the idea of technological determinism).
But it is true that most of the literary theorists I have met don't know or care for science. In general, this is simply the product of classic ignorance - that is, of ignoring it, of acting as though it were not there. The inability to see the nose on your own face, as it were.
The strongest anti-science bias I have come across in academe, however, is not among theologians or classical scholars. It is among post-modernist philosophers and literary theorists, who are very much prone to dismiss any thought of human progress, and to think of technological and scientific achievement as a chimaera; but there is also among this group a fairly strong correlation with rejection of traditional religion. Most of them would regard themselves as humanists, even though they often show a streak of misanthropy, shading almost to despair in some.
They also specifically reject the idea of "canon", holding that all products of society should be studied, rather than a body of works thought of as "superior" or "classic", and this often leads towards the same unconcern with "great books" (whatever body of literature is nominated) as the scientists are accused of having. Criticism of these attitudes as "nihilism" or as devotion to trivia is met by pointing out that it is the business of the academic to address what people are actually reading, actually viewing, actually doing, and not what it would be nice if they would read, view and do in an ideal world.
Is this a third estate, I wonder, one that does not care either for science or for "great books"? It would mostly have appeared after C P Snow's day.
Mike · 27 May 2009
When I was a wee undergraduate at OSU in the 70s, smitten by Bronowski's "Ascent of Man", I was shocked to find that humanities professors dismissed out of hand anything that came from Bronowski. There was never an attempt to justify the contempt, just the exhibition of annoyance you would give a toddler trying to play a piano. Actually, I think they were annoyed at both me and Bronowski.
Glen Davidson · 27 May 2009
Timothy Sandefur · 28 May 2009
Snow was actually a chemist, although his scientific reputation took a somewhat undeserved hit when he claimed to have discovered a means on synthesizing vitamin A, only to have it turn out that his experimental results were flawed. Snow did no serious science after that, but gained much repute for his novels. He was also quite active behind the scenes in Labour Party politics.
fnxtr · 28 May 2009
eric · 28 May 2009
eric · 28 May 2009
By the way, why did Bronowski use a rose for the literary types while we got stuck with a crummy abacus? Foul play I say! It was the sixties, he could've gone with something like "the Laser and the Mockingbird." Or since the Salk institute was involved, why not "The vaccine and the rosebud?" (Okay, I'll admit my lack of ability in constructing nice turns of phrase may be one reason I'm part of the abacus crowd...)
tyrone slothrop · 1 June 2009
That was painful to read. It appears that Timothy Sandefur seems to have missed the entire point of Snow's piece. Perhaps had Sandefur spent some time in a Literature department, he might have been better prepared to evaluate Snow's work. But that would have meant understanding Snow's point. Instead, this piece reeks of ignorance.
Diggitt · 2 June 2009
It's not clear to me from reading the comments exactly how many people have actually read The Two Cultures, and unless you know more about what he says (other than the celebrated piece about the Second Law of Thermodynamics, which is the first and often only thing people look at) you cannot adequately comment on who Snow was or what he meant.
The book is a small one, thin, quite short. Not an easy read because his ideas take a little pondering, but not something requiring heavy note-taking or drawn-out analysis either. It's worth it. I thought I had once seen the entire thing online but I just checked and since it's still under copyright, doesn't seem to be available for free.
From the comments, it seems like some people are dismissing Snow: for his science, his rank as a scientist, for his writing, I don't know what all. It's important to see him in his time and place.
He was 35 by 1940 and had been a scientific scholar and teacher, and then he entered government. If the time-servers we have seen in Washington for the past half-generation are your idea of civil servants, think again. Academics of any flavor were rare in Great Britain in 1940 and the old-boy system -- younger sons of titled men, and their cousins and their Eton classmates -- ran government. Snow and his peers, who in the eyes of previous leaders were "new men" coming from nowhere (and boy, t'was ever thus), moved into high official positions in those stressful years because of their intellectual excellence. Of course, by doing so they removed themselves from the straight up-and-down lines of those who remained doing science. So he moved from his first position of strength into a world where -- despite his Cambridge background and intellectual qualities -- he was an outsider.
F.R. Leavis, the literary intellectual who disliked Snow so much, had his own status issues. Leavis grew up in Cambridge but his father was not an academic -- he was a shopkeeper, nonetheless, his brilliant son received all his education in Cambridge and stayed there most of his life. I think it's likely that as a newcomer within the barricades he was ardent to keep out pretenders like Snow, who had "only" come up through the University of Leicester and then, after receiving the gifts of advanced education at Cambridge, abandoned academe, showing him not to be a serious intellectual.
And basically, everything Snow touched was golden. He had a happy marriage to the highly-praised novelist Pamela Hansford Johnson (who could have married Dylan Thomas but was too smart for that); her children by an earlier marriage liked him and they had a child of their own. He became Lord Snow, and he also had the effrontery to compete with Leavis on what Leavis perceived as his own turf, literature, with an eleven-volume cycle called Strangers and Brothers. Leavis thought it was laughable and yet, while some of it is dated, I think it stands with Trollope for containing beautifully drawn characters. Each novel has its own story yet the characters come and go throughout the series, which is considered a beautiful study of the getting and taking of political power. I would recommend all eleven to any student of mid-century Great Britain.
And in fact I would also recommend them to anyone who wants to get to the root of Snow's examination of the two cultures. While the famous lecture was in 1959, the novels evolved over decades and their underlying reading is subtle ... but it’s there.
To sum up, I think that in order to understand The Two Cultures you must take C.P. Snow as a creature of his time and place. He could not foretell the future; he did not foresee the internet or computers or any numbers of things. I think he would be fascinated to look at class or politics or education or business or communication in today’s Great Britain or the U.S. I also think that if he were here today, he would make his points somewhat differently, but the underlying idea would still apply.