No Arabic abstract
The nature of the scientific method is controversial with claims that a single scientific method does not even exist. However the scientific method does exist. It is the building of logical and self consistent models to describe nature. The models are constrained by past observations and judged by their ability to correctly predict new observations and interesting phenomena. The observations exist independent of the models but acquire meaning from their context within a model. Observations must be carefully done and reproducible to minimize errors. Models assumptions that do not lead to testable predictions are rejected as unnecessary.
I argue that European schools of thought on memory and memorization were critical in enabling the growth of the scientific method. After giving a historical overview of the development of the memory arts from ancient Greece through 17th century Europe, I describe how the Baconian viewpoint on the scientific method was fundamentally part of a culture and a broader dialogue that conceived of memorization as a foundational methodology for structuring knowledge and for developing symbolic means for representing scientific concepts. The principal figures of this intense and rapidly evolving intellectual milieu included some of the leading thinkers traditionally associated with the scientific revolution; among others, Francis Bacon, Renes Descartes, and Gottfried Leibniz. I close by examining the acceleration of mathematical thought in light of the art of memory and its role in 17th century philosophy, and in particular, Leibniz project to develop a universal calculus.
We review the physics at the end of the nineteenth century and summarize the process of the establishment of Special Relativity by Albert Einstein in brief. Following in the giants footsteps, we outline the scientific method which helps to do research. We give some examples in illustration of this method. We discuss the origin of quantum physics and string theory in its early years of development. The discoveries of the neutrino and the correct model of solar system are also present.
For several decades a portrait of Johannes Kepler has been widely circulating among professional astronomers, scientific and academic institutions, and the general public. Despite its provenance and identification having been questioned in the early part of the last century, this painting has reached iconic status. We review its history from its first mention in the literature in the 1870s to a published but virtually unknown judgment of competent art experts of the 1920s that the work is in fact an early nineteenth century forgery. We display the painting in context with other more secure portraits and suggest that if it is based on anything, the painting may derive from the well known portrait from life of Michael Mastlin. This correction takes on certain urgency since 2021 is the 450th anniversary of Keplers birth.
I examine the topic of training scientific generalists. To focus the discussion, I propose the creation of a new graduate program, analogous in structure to existing MD/PhD programs, aimed at training a critical mass of scientific researchers with substantial intellectual breadth. In addition to completing the normal requirements for a PhD, students would undergo an intense, several year training period designed to expose them to the core vocabulary of multiple subjects at the graduate level. After providing some historical and philosophical context for this proposal, I outline how such a program could be implemented with little institutional overhead by existing research universities. Finally, I discuss alternative possibilities for training generalists by taking advantage of contemporary developments in online learning and open science.
I had the marvelous good fortune to be Ken Wilsons graduate student at the Physics Department, Cornell University, from 1972 to 1976. In this article, I present some recollections of how this came about, my interactions with Ken, and Cornell during this period; and acknowledge my debt to Ken, and to John Wilkins and Michael Fisher, who I was privileged to have as my main mentors at Cornell. I end with some thoughts on the challenges of reforming education, a subject that was one of Kens major preoccupations in the second half of his professional life.