Lorraine Daston - Can Liberal Education Save the Sciences?
The dangers of research driven by commercial agendas are obvious: bans on the open publication of data; outright manipulation of results; and, at least in the case of pharmaceutical companies, ghostwriting of articles in scientific journals. In both the biomedical sciences and social sciences, the number of published results than can be replicated has plummeted; the incidence of fraud has skyrocketed. No amount of external professional policing can replace an internalized ethos of inquiry—not the ethics of science’s responsibility to society but that of science’s responsibility to itself. Science needs liberal education and its counterweight to the values of the market for its own sake.
The term “liberal education” derives from the seven medieval artes liberales (rhetoric, grammar, logic, astronomy, music, geometry and arithmetic), the knowledge necessary to a free man, by which was usually meant an adult, property-owning male who exercised the rights of citizen in the polity and pater familias in the household. The liberal arts were opposed to the “mechanical arts,” which were skills needed to earn a living, a condition of unfreedom in late Antiquity and indeed well through the eighteenth century in Europe. Under the influence of Renaissance humanism, new reform curricula took root in early modern Europe, emphasizing Greek as well as Latin, history rather than logic, but preserving instruction in the mathematical disciplines, now enlarged to include physics. This was true especially in the Jesuit colleges that trained the intellectual elite of the Enlightenment, from Descartes to Voltaire to David Hume.
The term “liberal education” derives from the seven medieval artes liberales (rhetoric, grammar, logic, astronomy, music, geometry and arithmetic), the knowledge necessary to a free man, by which was usually meant an adult, property-owning male who exercised the rights of citizen in the polity and pater familias in the household. The liberal arts were opposed to the “mechanical arts,” which were skills needed to earn a living, a condition of unfreedom in late Antiquity and indeed well through the eighteenth century in Europe. Under the influence of Renaissance humanism, new reform curricula took root in early modern Europe, emphasizing Greek as well as Latin, history rather than logic, but preserving instruction in the mathematical disciplines, now enlarged to include physics. This was true especially in the Jesuit colleges that trained the intellectual elite of the Enlightenment, from Descartes to Voltaire to David Hume.
When the term “liberal
education” came into wide use in English in the late eighteenth and early
nineteenth centuries, these associations were preserved: the curriculum
consisted largely of Greek and Latin “classics,” especially Horace, Plutarch,
Livy and Tacitus, and mathematics, especially Euclidean geometry. However much
authors of treatises on the ideals of liberal education might have diverged on
particulars, they were unanimous that “liberal” meant “free,” and “free” meant
not being a slave to monetary considerations.
This is why, when
William Whewell—physicist, mathematician and Master of Trinity College at the
University of Cambridge—proposed at the 1833 meeting of the fledgling British
Association for the Advancement of Science (est. 1831) that people who pursued
the sciences be called “scientists,” on the analogy of “artists,” even his best
friends objected that the name sounded too technical, too vocational, too much
like a skilled tradesman. They preferred the older term “natural philosopher,”
which licensed its bearer to roam through the sciences, philosophy and even
theology and literature at will. It was not that the ethos of the sciences was
anti-utilitarian: on the contrary, Whewell and his colleagues were eager to
prove that science and mathematics could improve life in every sphere, from
helping to avert shipwrecks to inventing new musical instruments. Ideally,
their science would serve the public good. But their science was neither
specialized nor commercial; so much so that, outside the few university chairs
in the subject, it was almost impossible to make a living by pursuing
science as a career.
All this changed in
the latter half of the nineteenth century, when the natural sciences for the
first time cashed out Francis Bacon’s IOU that knowledge of nature was power
over nature—which meant that science became both publicly useful and also
privately lucrative. Science-based industries like the extraction of textile
dyes from coal tar derivatives, globe-spanning telegraph networks, and the
infinitely varied uses of electricity turned the physical sciences into a
source of wealth and military might as well as prestige among rival nations.
These developments fueled campaigns to modernize secondary and tertiary
education by adding modern languages and the natural sciences to the curriculum
in Europe and North America. But once again, the most prominent scientists, for
example the great German physicist and physiologist Hermann von Helmholtz,
insisted that future scientists still be given a liberal education in the
classics, as preparation for life beyond the laboratory.
In the American
context, it was the rise of the social sciences in the 1920s
and 1930s that created the still reigning models of liberal education, as well
as the current divisions among the natural sciences, social sciences and the
humanities. In the context of debates over Darwinism, both the natural and
social sciences hoisted the banner of freedom of inquiry unimpeded by religious
dogmatism, but it was the social sciences that insisted that this skeptical
attitude also be instilled in the classroom.
Joining forces with the
biologists, the social scientists of the progressive age developed survey
courses like the University of Chicago’s “Man in Society” and “The Nature of
the World and Man,” which concluded with a survey of contemporary problems
facing humanity. In response, literary scholars, philosophers and historians,
alarmed to see their monopoly on ethical instruction threatened by the
sciences, banded together into the “New Humanities” movement in the first
decades of the twentieth century: they claimed that whereas Renaissance
humanists had fought the tyranny of the church, the modern humanists (a new
designation for this motley alliance of disciplines) now fought the naturalism
of the sciences, both natural and social. Only the newly christened
“humanities” disciplines, they argued, could provide spiritual insight into the
human condition and prepare free citizens of a free nation.
After World War II and
the bellicose triumphs of modern physics—demonstrated all too convincingly by
the successful detonations of atomic bombs—science once again entered the
liberal education, this time in the guise of the history of science. Chemist
and Harvard president James Bryant Conant, one of the administrators of the
Manhattan Project, worried that democracy would turn into technocracy if
citizens relinquished decision-making about atomic weapons, vaccination
programs and other technology-saturated policy decisions to experts. But
immersing students in the highly specialized research needed to understand the
relevant science seemed impracticable. Instead, students would learn about how
scientists thought through a series of historical case studies that would also
teach them at least the rudiments of contemporary science. The natural science
surveys of Harvard’s postwar General Education requirements became the
prototype of “physics/biology/math for poets” courses at universities all over
the country.
What does this
condensed history of the place of sciences and mathematics in liberal
education teach us?.. read more:
https://thepointmag.com/2016/examined-life/can-liberal-education-save-the-sciences