Seeing and Believing: How the Telescope Opened Our Eyes and Minds to the Heavens by Richard Panek. Viking, $21.95, 198 pages.
The Chapel Hill News
June 12, 2002
Why Science Moves Slowly
By Phillip Manning
Research scientists generate new ideas that advance our understanding
of the physical world. However, those same scientists can be
surprisingly reluctant to accept someone else's new ideas, especially
big ones. In his smoothly written history of astronomy, "Seeing
and Believing: How the Telescope Opened Our Eyes and Minds to
the Heavens" (Viking, $21.95), science writer Richard Panek
vividly illustrates an early example of this reluctance. But
as we shall see, scientists have a reason for resisting new ideas.
According to Aristotle, the stars and planets were made of a
perfect "celestial" substance, and they rotated in perfect
spheres around the center of the universe, the stationary Earth.
Unfortunately, they did not rotate as perfectly as Aristotle
claimed, so in the 2nd century A.D. Ptolemy introduced epicycles
(circles within circles) to account for the motions of the planets.
So complicated did these circles become that by the 16th century
the system was ridiculously unwieldy.
Copernicus simplified Ptolomey's system by proposing that the
Earth (and the other planets) revolved around the sun. However,
his new system did not predict the positions of the planets much
better than the old one, so it was still possible to believe that
the Earth was stationary - as our senses tell us it is. Then,
in November of 1609, an ambitious Italian professor of mathematics,
Galileo Galilei, aimed a newly invented telescope at the moon,
and astronomy suddenly got less sensible.
Instead of Aristotle's perfect celestial sphere, Galileo saw
mountains and valleys marring the moon's surface. Later, he spotted
four moons revolving around Jupiter, exactly as our own moon revolves
around the Earth. He observed the phases of Venus, proving that
it does not produce its own light but is illuminated by the sun
- and orbits it. Galileo published his conclusions in 1613, "An
understanding of what Copernicus wrote suffices . . . astronomers
to ascertain that Venus revolves around the sun, as well as to
verify the rest of his system."
Panek recounts what happened next. One man said that Galileo
and his telescope had "overthrown all former astronomy,"
but many astronomers had their doubts. One argued that "these
satellites of Jupiter are invisible to the naked eye, and therefore
exercise no influence on the earth, and therefore would be useless,
and therefore do not exist." Panek says that this reaction
was to be expected. After all, the telescope "revealed evidence
that was different from what the naked eye could see, evidence
that wasn't otherwise there." His point is well taken.
The evidence gathered through the telescope was difficult for
17th-century Europeans to believe because it contradicted almost
everything that they knew. Drop a rock, and it falls straight
down, not at the angle you might expect if the Earth were moving.
It would be another 75 years before Isaac Newton would provide
the theoretical framework for the Copernican theory that Galileo
was confirming with his telescope.
But I have a bone to pick with Panek's interpretation of why
astronomers were slow in accepting Galileo's ideas; more is at
work here than just a difficulty in believing what the telescope
revealed. History is full of scientists who refused to accept
new theories. And scientists' stick-in-the-mud posture toward
new ideas is just as prevalent today as it was in Galileo's time.
Einstein, for example, was skeptical of the full implications
of quantum mechanics. "I shall never believe that God plays
dice with the world," he famously said. Yet that is precisely
the conclusion that most physicists now accept.
I suspect it was this same skeptical attitude toward new ideas
that caused many 17th-century scientists to reject the evidence
Galileo collected, evidence that turned astronomy upside down.
The old saw that new theories are only accepted after the people
who developed the old ones die is all too true. It also the reason
that most great leaps forward in science are made by men and women
under age 30, people who do not have big investments of time and
energy in older theories.
Why don't scientists buy into new ideas more quickly? The main
reason is that most new ideas are wrong. One recent example was
the cold fusion results reported by two chemists at the University
of Utah in 1989. Naive journalists jumped all over the story.
An unlimited, nonpolluting, cheap source of power was at hand
trumpeted the headlines. Few scientists believed it. Were the
results reproducible, they huffed. Why was the announcement made
at a news conference rather than in a scientific journal, they
grumbled. It turns out the scientists were right; the results
were not reproducible, and cold fusion was quickly forgotten.
So, it is easy to understand why Galileo's peers did not all
immediately jump on the heliocentric bandwagon. Eventually, of
course, Galileo's ideas prevailed. But only because better telescopes
allowed other astronomers to see what he saw. His results were
reproducible.
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