THE SCIENTIFIC CONTRIBUTION
For something like seventy years science has been the dominant intellectual activity of the Western world. During that period the range of its material has greatly increased until now the scientific method is regarded as the method proper to almost any investigation. Philosophy is still a partial exception, but there is a strong tendency to regard such philosophic problems as are not susceptible to the application of the scientific method as being essentially incapable of solution, or else as incorrectly stated. But although the prestige of science is so great, and the general attitude towards it so reverential, there is still much confusion respecting its function and achievement. Its relations to other human interests and activities are not yet clearly defined. The attempts to define them by allotting to science its “sphere” have proved, in the result, to be so ill-judged that it is now considered safer to waive the question of limitations altogether. The question is not settled. Everything is left open, but it is not therefore assumed that science contains or will contain all we know or all we need to know. Science is not yet the one object of our contemplation: we have a number of interests which still lead separate lives. The separation is not complete. Science, if not openly, then indirectly, has invaded every province of the mind, and even a modern musical composition counts Copernicus as well as Beethoven amongst its ancestors. But it is admitted, of course, that we are not usually reminded of astronomy in listening to music; there is a sense in which music, and many other things, are autonomous. But it is interesting to notice that science, to a greater extent than any other pursuit, can be isolated, although its historical direction has been influenced, of course, by social and political accidents. Science has given generously, but has taken comparatively little, and its few borrowings are in process of being handed back with regret as being, after all, unsuitable.
What, then, is the precise nature and extent of the contribution of science to our total stock? Although we do not intend its practical applications by this question, we cannot wholly ignore them. It is impossible completely to separate the “material” and “spiritual” aspects of life, and the sum of the practical applications of science has even profoundly affected much of our abstract thinking. Where it has not originated questions it has at least made them acute, if by no other process than by creating or transforming social conditions. It is easy to trace the ancestry of whole schools of social philosophy to the steam engine and the dynamo, and it is probable that the influence of future applications will be even more extensive. The morality, art and philosophy of, for example, a disease-less world, where the average span of human life was two or three times its present value, would certainly differ greatly from our own. We cannot, then, ignore the practical applications of science, although they are not, in themselves, pertinent to our question. But when we turn to consider the direct spiritual value of science we are conscious, at the outset, of some hesitation.
It was a common article of the Victorian scientist’s creed that scientific study was, in itself, an “ennobling” and purifying influence. He stressed the complete detachment required, in scientific research, from all prepossessions; the man of science was completely candid, completely docile in face of the facts. Until one became as a little child it was no use entering a laboratory. We have realised since then that scientific men are human, and have their full share of the unfortunate characteristics proper to that state. But it remains true that the scientific ideal of detachment and the scientific ideal of evidence are higher than the corresponding ideals elsewhere. In spite of the evidence furnished by our newspapers we may, if we are optimists, believe that science is gradually infecting the whole community with its conception of these ideals. If this is indeed the case it must be counted a direct and very important moral gain, as an indisputably valuable contribution which may be set over against those somewhat ambiguous practical applications.
A third contribution is to be found in the large store of æsthetic objects provided by science. Many of its theories are objects of surpassing beauty. This is particularly true of the mathematical sciences—indeed, there are a number of mathematicians who have felt impelled to write of their science in a kind of prose-poetry—but it is almost equally true of such a science as Geology. We can contemplate schemes which, in their own way, are as all-embracing as that of the Divina Commedia, and it does not detract from their æsthetic charm to know that they are also true. The processes by which the theories are obtained are often as æsthetically important as the theories themselves. A subtle, elaborate and economical piece of reasoning often affords great æsthetic pleasure, none the less real because comparatively few people enjoy it. The fact that the history of a big scientific investigation, such as the Electromagnetic Theory or Einstein’s Theory of Relativity, is not generally regarded as a poem is due merely to an accident of language and education. But we have to admit that most people are affected by these accidents, and that the æsthetic objects provided by science count almost as few admirers as do the “beauties” of chess. If we may judge from the number of popular books and articles dealing with science, there is some hope, however, that this particular contribution is receiving more attention. The results of such increased attention will not be simple, but if it did no more than add fresh æsthetic objects, the contribution would be important.
The fourth contribution of science, both in itself and for its reaction on other interests, is perhaps the most important of all. This contribution is, put briefly, the light thrown by science on man’s place in the universe. Every branch of science conspires directly to this end. With some the emphasis is on the universe as distinct from man; others are concerned chiefly with man himself. To the general mind the result has been to make the universe bigger and man smaller, and this is, perhaps, no unfair summary. It is probably difficult, after hearing a duet sung by an astronomer and a psycho-analyst, not to feel depressed. But, such as it is, there can be no doubt that any conception of man’s destiny that is to command attention must conceive that destiny as played against the background of the scientific cosmos. Whether the vision be that of a prophet, philosopher or poet, it must accept those postulates. The cosmos revealed by science, both in its direct influence upon the mind and in its almost equally direct influence upon religion, philosophy and the arts, is the most important part of the scientific contribution to our spiritual life. So far as philosophers and artists are concerned, this influence is recognised. It is probably desirable that the influence upon philosophy should increase, but in the case of the artist we are faced with a special problem. Its discussion would be interesting, the more so in view of the fact that artists themselves have contributed very little that is helpful to its elucidation. We think it essential to its solution to remember that the artist, like the scientist, starts with facts. But the system within which the facts are related is entirely different in the two cases. The scientific scheme must, of course, be accepted by the artist en bloc if his work is to be more than a pure fantasy. But this is very different from identifying his own scheme with the scientific scheme. That is to fail signally to perceive the limitations of the scientific contribution. An interesting particular case of this problem is to be found in the question of the right relations of the psychological novelist to the science of psycho-analysis. A scientific investigation is often, as we have said, a work of art, but not necessarily a work of literary art. The scientific contribution is very considerable, but offerings from the older benefactors are still gratefully received.