Notes on an Outmoded World View
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by Mordecai Plaut
(Page 2) From the book "At the Center of the Universe". |
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There is no question that, in the four hundred years since it was first presented, the Copernican theory has proven quite valuable to technology in simplifying the calculations of astronomers and astronauts, and to science in simplifying the theories of scientists. However, there is an additional burden that this system bears. Professor Kuhn notes that our civilization is unique in its requirement that our “cosmology supply both a psychologically satisfying world-view and an explanation of observed phenomena” (emphasis his).1 In view of the alternatives, there is little room to criticize our cosmology in its fulfillment of the latter function, but we would like to suggest that the same perspective finds it wanting in the former area. It must be remembered that the two tasks are completely distinct and fully independent, especially in this case as we will show below, and that success and failure in supplying a "psychologically satisfying world-view" is not as easily judged nor as obvious as success in technical and even scientific endeavors. Lest there be any misunderstanding, we hasten to note that we do not intend to advocate any double standard, with truth for scientists and some other sort of "truth" for popular consumption. Such a proposal would be condescending and, worse, superfluous, since the features of the case in point do not require any compromise.
Perhaps a few remarks about truth are in order. Although it is a fundamental notion, truth is not a universal criterion of value. In technology, for example, rules are evaluated for expedience rather than truth. Confronted with a rule of technology we try it out. If it works, it is valuable and should be preserved for future reference; if not, it is to be discarded. In science, truth is still the main test for propositions, but even there, the relationship between science and truth is not thought to be what it once was.
The accessibility of truth to scientific investigation has been seriously questioned in recent years, and many of those who concern themselves with such issues now claim that, although truth is still the goal of science, there is no good reason to suppose that any piece of purported scientific knowledge has attained that end; that all that can be reasonably hoped for is a progressively closer approximation.
There are also some who would even attack the very notion of progress in science as an upward motion along a continuum. They argue that each age works within a paradigm of its own. What were conventionally seen as periods of scientific progress are now said to be merely shifts in the prevailing paradigm of scientific research, comparable more to an experience of religious conversion than to orderly scientific advance. It should be pointed out that these issues have been the subject of much debate and we have given here only a superficial (and a bit sensational) account of them, which should not be taken as necessarily representative of any individual's current view. It is interesting that the aforementioned Professor Kuhn is one of the leading critics of progress in science, and he has used the result of his investigations into the process of the Copernican revolution as supportive evidence. However he is not associated with the suggestion advanced here that there may be more to the Ptolemaic position, for what meets the eye.
Whatever position one takes on the general question of truth in science, there are special considerations that apply to descriptions of motion, which is the issue here: a complete and accurate description of the motion of all heavenly bodies. With the rise of Einsteinian physics went the fall of the Newtonian concept of absolute space. Today it is as firmly established as anything could be that there is no general, absolute system of coordinates that define space. Rather, all systems, chosen from whatever arbitrary reference points, are equally valid. Since there is no absolute way to determine position in space, there is no absolute way of describing change of position in space, that is, motion. One cannot say of an object simply that is moving up or down or in any direction, or with any particular speed, and be informative. For any object we may choose, and any direction and of motion and velocity, constant or not, there is a reference frame within which that object is moving at that speed and in that direction, so that if no reference frame is specified or at least implied, the statement has no value. What one can do, even without specifying an overall reference frame, is to define the motion of some object relative to another object. This relative motion will remain substantively invariant in any choice of reference system, so that such a description will be valuable no matter which coordinate system is ultimately used.
However, this information on the objects' relative motion cannot be used to decide if either or neither is stationary. That question can only be resolved by an arbitrary choice (a doubtful resolution), or in a relative way with reference to a third body or some general inertial reference system. What is true of two bodies applies equally well to an arbitrary number. We can accurately portray changes in objects' positions relative to one another and also determine which objects are relatively stationary (if any). However, though we may not be able to pick more than one as stationary, we can always choose any single body as fixed. As far as the reality of their motions is concerned, there is absolutely no reason to choose any one in particular.
To make the point in a more obvious way, an interesting number of bodies for which these observations hold is ten, the number of major objects in the "solar" system. We would in no way be misrepresenting reality were we to choose any one of these and to describe the motions of the others in relation to it. All frames of reference have equal status, including, we might add, all those which do not coincide with any body.
To say that all of the various alternatives serve equally well as true representations of reality is not to imply that they are all the same. In general they will differ radically. Some may have an internal simplicity or elegance; others might tie in well with knowledge or beliefs in different areas. Many, in fact most, will be frightfully complex with no apparent connection to anything else we know or believe. Nonetheless, no observation of any kind of the various motions, nor (as far as we know) any a priori speculation, can decide between any of these various proposals. Put another way, we can say that the reality of the motions does not itself determine a choice from these descriptions.
It might be thought that this situation precludes the selection of any descriptive system for special treatment, but actually this is not so. Quite the contrary, for instead of being depressed into passivity by the wealth of simultaneously acceptable choices, we are free to choose as we please. Our freedom for action is enhanced rather than retarded, for we may devise any criteria, even whimsical or arbitrary, by which to single out a particular way of describing motion. Our problem lies in a choice of these guiding principles and not in our selection of a representation for motion, for any of the latter is guaranteed acceptability within a wide range. These criteria must be picked with utmost care, for we are involved in a situation which has a potential for true moral responsibility. Furthermore, we must not overlook the option to set up different, possibly incompatible, sets of evaluative criteria for diverging ends, and we need not, nay cannot, worry if they produce different pictures of the motions. A description of a system of motions may only be evaluated to see if it can be made to fit with observation. Having passed that test, no conclusions regarding truth may be drawn from it. We are always free to choose the system which we decide is most desirable in view of the ends we are considering. The only dimensions along which alternative descriptions of motion will be distinct are such arbitrary ones as aesthetics, simplicity (mathematical or psychological), psychological comfort, and maybe even ethics. We call these dimensions "arbitrary" because they are not tests which are mandatory for scientific statements, as is the test of truth.
There are many purposes for which it is important to describe the relative motions of the bodies of the solar system. Among the most practical are the pointing of telescopes and the calculating of trajectories for interplanetary vehicles. For the accomplishment of ends such as these, the most important virtue that a descriptive system can have is simplicity of the mathematical kind. By this criterion the Copernican system rates far above any other system yet proposed, though there is doubt that if some simpler yet accurate alternative were advanced it would be enthusiastically received by astronomers and space experts no matter what picture of the solar system resulted. Simplicity in these areas results in economy of energy and toil at no cost whatsoever. Tradition counts for little in the realm of expediency and rightly so.
Another reason for describing planetary motion is that we find it important to understand, and as much as possible comprehend, the world in which we are. Toward this end, the Copernican system has allowed the formulation of powerful and fairly simple laws which we may represent as governing mechanical interactions. This alone is no mean feat and is certainly a step in the direction of our understanding of the universe and yet . . .
It is accomplished at significant cost. As we noted earlier, the picture of the universe given in modern science presents things to be not as they seem. We are no longer shocked to find that things in public life are not as they were made to seem. The events leading up to the end of the Nixon administration disclosed a situation more frightening than the acts actually performed (though less remarkable than they because of the subtlety of the matter) in that the relationship between what was said and what was, was almost nonexistent. A prominent figure of the time actually advised us all to watch what they did rather than what they said, and although that course ultimately led to the exposure of the illegal activities, the statement itself indicates a situation that should be taken as a danger signal for society. The recent behavior of international figures and institutions indicates that this is a circumstance not limited to America, but that there is a general tendency to allow the link between the way that we describe the world and the way that we know it to be, to weaken.
We do not mean to suggest a direct causal link between modern cosmology and social relationships, and we can say with certainty that there was no intent on the part of those who originated modern theories that any similar techniques be used in other areas. But it is also evident that there is a deep parallel in the methodologies and results of modern public figures and scientists despite their opposite intentions—the former divorced what they said from what they saw to obscure truth; the latter, in an attempt to expose it.
The use of the Copernican system, then, sets up a constant and pervasive undermining of the evidence which we receive from our senses. Tension is a result, for our senses continually provide information — we cannot think it away — and the belief in heliocentrism is very firmly entrenched. A qualitative description of our immediate neighborhood in the universe (the assertion that the earth and planets revolve around a central and relatively stable sun) is assimilated very early in a child's development. It can almost be said that it is in general learned at one's mother's knee. The early incorporation of these beliefs into our personal cosmologies is beneficial in that we encounter what would otherwise be a severe shock at an age and stage when we are best equipped to absorb it, but it is unfortunate in that this move becomes a basic component of our approach to the world, so deeply buried that its effects are not likely to be traceable. Traceable or not, a conflict between the gross evidence of appearance constantly received and our basic beliefs about the "true" picture of things, cannot fail to have some effects, the most benign being a tendency away from skywatching at a popular level.
To avoid misunderstanding, we should emphasize here that we do not represent tension as something to be avoided at all costs. There is no doubt that it is uncomfortable, but it is not necessarily bad. In any case in which we are convinced that the world is in fact different from the way it is perceived through our senses, a concern for truth dictates that we unhesitatingly accept such proposals and cope with the resulting tension. However, we have earlier and at great length pointed out that the heliocentric system is no more true than a geocentric one.
This same point guarantees that there is no element of condescension. There is no suggestion of two standards of truth, one for science and one for the "masses" embodying some alleged limitations. Such undemocratic thoughts need not even be entertained, for the geocentric system passes any scientific tests for truth as easily as the heliocentric. As a result we can and should consider other aspects of the alternative theories, and that is where the uncomfortable effects of the Copernican theory count against it.
In fact, we may look to the seminal location of these issues to account for the fact that they rarely trouble us. Instead of taking that as an indication of their incidental nature, it can be seen as a reflection of their basal position in our thoughts. As such they would be disposed of early and at so deep a level that it might rarely occur to us to reopen those questions. Despite the generally intensive efforts at analysis in our times, the issues we would like—or perhaps fear—to use as our bases are those we often discuss, not those we actually use.
The location of the tension in question is not its only worrisome aspect; its nature is at least an equal cause for concern. Strained by it is what would in any case be a delicate connection: the link between what we see (through the senses) and what we say and believe.
The fact that we have been able to link the world of our experiences with language is certainly central to most of our achievement, and may itself be the most important one. Language is necessary to coordinate our activities and to preserve previously gained knowledge, both of which are crucial to human culture and technical achievement. Although heliocentrism cannot be said to have hindered technical advance — on the contrary — we might wonder if there was not some price paid in the area of culture. Our perceptual universe is unchangeably geocentric. Yet our intellectual world, where our culture is stored and developed, uses a heliocentric system. The effects of such a conflict are bound to be extensive and profound.
We will confine our discussion to one example of what might be seen as a development of our having to cope with this tension. It is no longer strange to hear a work of fiction praised as being true. The notion of truth has usually been that what was said or written corresponds in some sense to reality, but on the face of it this is not a claim that can be made of fiction. No doubt, the claim is made primarily of the message or insight which we take with us from the work. But this cannot be the whole scope of the claim, for the message is often uncontroversial and unoriginal, and in order for it to constitute praise of the work, the claim of truth must apply also to the work itself. Why not? Just as in regard to the physical world we are willing to apply the truth predicate despite appearances to the contrary, so too in the literary world we might take similar liberties. Such supply twists can only be the product of long "athletic" training which began at a very early age, perhaps the age at which the Copernican theory was first presented as the picture of reality.
The reference system necessary in order to take the sun as stationary is literally inhuman. No one, not even the astronauts, has even been in a frame which remotely approaches it, nor is anyone likely to do so in the foreseeable future. (It is not easy even to think of a practical reason for anyone to do so.) Furthermore, the point from which the common models of the solar system, a staple of the science museums, is even less accessible, located some astronomical distance outside the plane of the solar system. To apply these models to the world around us, we must move, in our imagination, to a point incredibly beyond any of our experience. The result is a perspective which can be called ours only in a most tenuous sense.
Conversely, the fact that if we observe the skies we cannot but see all the objects in it as circling us is not a consequence of some "special" limitation on our part. It is the result of the fact that we observe the skies only from an inertial reference frame which is fixed with respect to the earth. The geocentric system is ours in simple, yet important sense: it is the one in which we live.
We might say that one of the functions of science is to fill the void that was once occupied by myth, to help us come to grips with the world around us (hence the earlier term "scientific myth"). Professor Kuhn refers to a feeling of "at homeness" in the universe, for which we seem to have a need. It is difficult to see how a theory which trivializes the relationship between us and what is, after all, our home can be satisfying in this respect. We live on earth. We are born here; we die here. We contemplate the unmeasured heights of the heavens and the fathomless depths of our fellows, all on earth. We have been witness to the growing possibility, are witnessing the increasing necessity, and, it is to be hoped, will witness the developing actuality, of a planetary consciousness. This could only be expedited by a growing recognition and acceptance of the fact that, for all practical purposes, as far as we are concerned, we live at the center of the universe.
NOTES
1. Kuhn, Thomas, The Copernican Revolution (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1957).
Related essays: How to Succeed in Knowing Without Really Seeing