Science and the modern world

by Alfred North Whitehead

In the previous lectures of this course we have considered the antecedent conditions which led up to the scientific movement, and have traced the progress of thought from the seventeenth to the nineteenth century. In the nineteenth century this history falls into three parts, so far as it is to be grouped around science. These divisions[divisions] are, the contact between the romantic movement and science, the development of technology and physics in the earlier part of the century, and lastly the theory of evolution combined with the general advance of the biological sciences.

The dominating note of the whole period of three centuries is that the doctrine of materialism afforded an adequate basis for the concepts of science. It was practically unquestioned. When undulations were wanted, an ether was supplied, in order to perform the duties of an undulatory material. To show the full assumption thus involved, I have sketched in outline an alternative doctrine of an organic theory of nature. In the last lecture it was pointed out that the biological developments, the doctrine of evolution, the doctrine of energy, and the molecular theories were rapidly undermining the adequacy of the orthodox materialism. But until the close of the century no one drew that conclusion. Materialism reigned supreme.

The note of the present epoch is that so many complexities have developed regarding material, space, time, and energy, that the simple security of the old orthodox assumptions has vanished. It is obvious that they will not do as Newton left them, or even as Clerk Maxwell left them. There must be a reorganization. The new situation in the thought of to-day arises from the fact that scientific theory is outrunning common sense. The settlement as inherited by the eighteenth century was a triumph of organised common sense. It had got rid of medieval phantasies, and of Cartesian vortices. As a result it gave full reign to its anti-rationalistic tendencies derived from the historical revolt of the Reformation period. It grounded itself upon what every plain man could see with his own eyes, or with a microscope of moderate power. It measured the obvious things to be measured, and it generalised the obvious things to be generalised. For example, it generalised the ordinary notions of weight and massiveness. The eighteenth century opened with the quiet confidence that at last nonsense had been got rid of. To-day we are at the opposite pole of thought. Heaven knows what seeming nonsense may not to-morrow be demonstrated truth. We have recaptured some of the tone of the early nineteenth century, only on a higher imaginative level.

The reason why we are on a higher imaginative level is not because we have finer imagination, but because we have better instruments. In science, the most important thing that has happened during the last forty years is the advance in instrumental design. This advance is partly due to a few men of genius such as Michelson and the German opticians. It is also due to the progress of technological processes of manufacture, particularly in the region of metallurgy. The designer has now at his disposal a variety of material of differing physical properties. He can thus depend upon obtaining the material he desires; and it can be ground to the shapes he desires, within very narrow limits of tolerance. These instruments have put thought onto a new level. A fresh instrument serves the same purpose as foreign travel; it shows things in unusual combinations. The gain is more than a mere addition; it is a transformation. The advance in experimental ingenuity is, perhaps, also due to the larger proportion of national ability which now flows into scientific pursuits. Anyhow, whatever be the cause, subtle and ingenious experiments have abounded within the last generation. The result is, that a great deal of information has been accumulated in regions of nature very far removed from the ordinary experience of mankind.

Two famous experiments, one devised by Galileo at the outset of the scientific movement, and the other by Michelson with the aid of his famous interferometer, first carried out in 1881, and repeated in 1887 and 1905, illustrate the assertions I have made. Galileo dropped heavy bodies from the top of the leaning tower of Pisa, and demonstrated that bodies of different weights, if released simultaneously, would reach the earth together. So far as experimental skill, and delicacy of apparatus were concerned, this experiment could have been made at any time within the preceding five thousand years. The ideas involved merely concerned weight and speed of travel, ideas which are familiar in ordinary life. The whole set of ideas might have been familiar to the family of King Minos of Crete, as they dropped pebbles into the sea from high battlements rising from the shore. We cannot too carefully realise that science started with the organisation of ordinary experiences. It was in this way that it coalesced so readily with the anti-rationalistic bias of the historical revolt. It was not asking for ultimate meanings. It confined itself to investigating the connections regulating the succession of obvious occurrences.

Michelson’s experiment could not have been made earlier than it was. It required the general advance in technology, and Michelson’s experimental genius. It concerns the determination of the earth’s motion through the ether, and it assumes that light consists of waves of vibration advancing at a fixed rate through the ether in any direction. Also, of course, the earth is moving through the ether, and Michelson’s apparatus is moving with the earth. In the centre of the apparatus a ray of light is divided so that one half-ray goes in one direction along the apparatus through a given distance, and is reflected back to the centre by a mirror in the apparatus. The other half-ray goes the same distance across the apparatus in a direction at right angles to the former ray, and it also is reflected back to the centre. These reunited rays are then reflected onto a screen in the apparatus. If precautions are taken, you will see interference bands; namely bands of blackness where the crests of the waves of one ray have filled up the troughs of the other rays, owing to a minute difference in the lengths of paths of the two half-rays, up to certain parts of the screens. These differences in length will be affected by the motion of the earth. For it is the lengths of the paths in the ether which count. Thus, since the apparatus is moving with the earth, the path of one half-ray will be disturbed by the motion in a different manner from the path of the other half-ray. Think of yourself as moving in a railway carriage, first along the train and then across the train; and mark out your paths on the railway track which in this analogy corresponds to the ether. Now the motion of the earth is very slow compared to that of light. Thus in the analogy you must think of the train almost at a standstill, and of yourself as moving very quickly.

In the experiment this effect of the earth’s motion would affect the positions on the screen of the interference bands. Also if you turn the apparatus round, through a right-angle, the effect of the earth’s motion on the two half-rays will be interchanged, and the positions of the interference bands would be shifted. We can calculate the small shift which should result owing to the earth’s motion round the sun. Also to this effect, we have to add that due to the sun’s motion through the ether. The delicacy of the instrument can be tested, and it can be proved that these effects of shifting are large enough to be observed by it. Now the point is, that nothing was observed. There was no shifting as you turned the instrument round.

The conclusion is either that the earth is always stationary in the ether, or that there is something wrong with the fundamental principles on which the interpretation of the experiment relies. It is obvious that, in this experiment, we are very far away from the thoughts and the games of the children of King Minos. The ideas of an ether, of waves in it, of interference, of the motion of the earth through the ether, and of Michelson’s interferometer, are remote from ordinary experience. But remote as they are, they are simple and obvious compared to the accepted explanation of the nugatory result of the experiment.

The ground of the explanation is that the ideas of space and of time employed in science are too simple-minded, and must be modified. This conclusion is a direct challenge to common sense, because the earlier science had only refined upon the ordinary notions of ordinary people. Such a radical reorganization of ideas would not have been adopted, unless it had also been supported by many other observations which we need not enter upon. Some form of the relativity theory seems to be the simplest way of explaining a large number of facts which otherwise would each require some ad hoc explanation. The theory, therefore, does not merely depend upon the experiments which led to its origination.

The central point of the explanation is that every instrument, such as Michelson’s apparatus as used in the experiment, necessarily records the velocity of light as having one and the same definite speed relatively to it. I mean that an interferometer in a comet and an interferometer on the earth would necessarily bring out the velocity of light, relatively to themselves, as at the same value. This is an obvious paradox, since the light moves with a definite velocity through the ether. Accordingly two bodies, the earth and the comet, moving with unequal velocities through the ether, might be expected to have different velocities relatively to rays of light. For example, consider two cars on a road, moving at ten and twenty miles an hour respectively, and being passed by another car at fifty miles an hour. The rapid car will pass one of the two cars at the relative velocity of forty miles per hour, and the other at the rate of thirty miles per hour. The allegation as to light is that, if we substituted a ray of light for the rapid car, the velocity of the light along the roadway would be exactly the same as its velocity relatively to either of the two cars which it overtakes. The velocity of light is immensely large, being about three hundred thousand kilometres per second. We must have notions as to space and time such that just this velocity has this peculiar character. It follows that all our notions of relative velocity must be recast. But these notions are the immediate outcome of our habitual notions as to space and time. So we come back to the position, that there has been something overlooked in the current expositions of what we mean by space and of what we mean by time.