Non-scientists know Erwin Schrödinger best for his curious thought experiment of “Schrödinger’s cat”. But the Austrian quantum physicist ought also to be known for Physics In Our Time, wherein he outlines a basic philosophy of science. Those dedicated to the revival of the liberal arts have special reason to consider Schrödinger’s remarks, for this world-class scientific genius’s reflections support neither the cult of STEM nor the delusion that modern science has emerged by casting off the past.
“What is science for?” Schrödinger asks rhetorically, as a preface to critiquing mainstream responses to the question:
A great many people, particularly those not deeply interested in science, are inclined to answer this question by pointing to the practical consequences of scientific achievements in transforming technology, industry, engineering, etc., in fact in changing our whole way of life beyond recognition in the course of less than two centuries, with further and even more rapid changes to be expected in the time to come. Few scientists will agree with this utilitarian appraisal of their endeavor.
Schrödinger goes on to predict that if utilitarian concerns dominate education, then science education will be “fabulously neglected.” That is, Erwin Schrödinger would blame a lapse in math and science achievement not upon Creationists, nor even upon fuddy-duddy liberal arts instructors who gripe about smart-phones. Rather, he blames it upon precisely the sorts of progressivist bureaucrats who obsess over test scores and see economic productivity as the purpose of knowledge. No amount of iPads, smartboards, or other gadgets can make up for the absence of an intellectual atmosphere. By definition, the only culture which can foster science is the kind which prioritizes intellectual life over consumerism, entertainment, and comfort.
Certainly Schrödinger himself was motivated by something other than a dream of better gadgets and appliances:
You may ask – you are bound to ask me now: What, then, is in your opinion the value of natural science? I answer: its scope, aim and value is the same as that of any other branch of human knowledge. Nay, none of them alone, only the union of all of them, has any scope or value at all, and that is simply enough described: It is to obey the command of the Delphic deity, γνῶθι σεαυτόν, get to know yourself. Or, to put it in the brief, impressive rhetoric of Plotinus (Enneads VI, 4, 14): ἡμεῖς δέ τινες δέ ἡμεῖς; “And we, who are we anyhow?”
The “Delphic deity” to which Schrödinger refers is Apollo, the ancient Greek god of prophecy, who for centuries served in the city of Delphi as the religious heart of pagan Greece, underpinning all of Hellenic culture, literature, and history. In Plato’s Apology we are told that Socrates’ philosophical quest was inspired by one of the Delphic deity’s cryptic pronouncements; the Oedipus Rex of Sophocles opens with the Delphic prediction that Thebes will be free of plague only after the city is purged of spiritual uncleanness; according to Herodotus, the Spartan king Leonidas led his bodyguard of three hundred to the pass at Thermopylae in order to fulfill a Delphic prophecy. Above the entrance to the Delphic temple was the inscription γνῶθι σεαυτόν – “know thyself” – a phrase which came to have special importance in classical thought.
As for Plotinus, he founded the philosophical school of Neoplatonism, which sought to revive and modify the teachings of Plato. For a period before his conversion Saint Augustine espoused Neoplatonism, and occasionally drew upon Neo-Platonic concepts in formulating a Christian philosophy. So there are more conceptual links between quantum mechanics and the Church Fathers than we might think!
Three other points are worth emphasizing here. The first point, already alluded to, is that scientific creativity stems not from a desire for novelties and luxury goods, but from a yearning for a deeper understanding of the cosmos, for an expansion and enrichment of the human spirit. Our desire to perceive the ballet of distant galaxies is not so far removed from our desire to understand our place in the cosmos, our desire to better know ourselves as finite, fallen beings made in the image and likeness of God.
The second point is that when one of the greatest scientists of all time wants to express himself, he turns not to slick, futuristic catch phrases but … ancient Greek. Far from being the luxury of nostalgic pedants, classical languages are interwoven with all of the West’s great creative endeavors, and have shaped our greatest thinkers – including our scientists. So we cannot even understand the material and technological side of our civilization without reckoning with Greek and Latin.
This, in turn, brings us to the third point: Science is in another key respect just the same as “any other branch of human knowledge,” insofar as it is a tradition – from the Latin trado, tradere: “hand over, pass over; deliver, hand down; bequeath; entrust.” Instead of standing in the way of scientific progress, tradition makes scientific progress possible, for tradition is an expression of our collective memory, experience, and achievements. In all dimensions of human existence, the real advances are achieved not through tearing down the past, but by building upon it. Imagine trying to send a spacecraft to the moon if we didn’t already have the benefit of Robert Goddard’s early 20th Century rocket research or Newton’s Laws of Motion. Is there anyone foolish enough to think himself able to develop Apollo 11 from scratch?
