About three years ago, I wrote down a question that had been lingering for a long time. I can't avoid this question because it is directly related to my living environment. I can't help but think about a few things out of this environment, out of some serendipitous circumstances. Most people who have had similar experiences with me have witnessed the same thing, and I think they will comment in much the same way. It just happened to be an unusual experience. On degrees, I am a scientist; In terms of career, I am a writer. That's my total experience. I came from a poor family, which is a fortunate thing to say.
A person's resume is irrelevant. It is suffice to mention that he had studied at university in the past and had done a little research in London during the era when science was active. I had the privilege of witnessing the pomp and circumstance of one of the most creative periods of physics. And it all happened during the hapless war—including meeting Bregue (1) in the lighthouse at Kaitley Station on a cold morning in 1939, which had a decisive effect on my actual life—enabled me, in fact morally, to maintain that position of witnessing close to me. So for 30 years I kept in touch with scientists, not out of curiosity, but as part of my actual work. It was also in these 30 years that I worked hard to write books that I did not spit out, and after a period of time I became one of the writers.
I spend many days like this: working with scientists during the day and talking about literature and art at night with some of my peers in the literary and artistic circles. Needless to say, I have no shortage of close friends among scientists and writers. It is precisely because I live in both circles at the same time, and so frequently between the two, that I have been thinking about this question long before I write it on paper; I deliberately call it "two cultures." I have been in two circles, knowing that they are of equal intelligence, of the same race, of similar social origins, and who earn the same income, but these two groups of people have little to do with each other and have little in common in terms of intellectual structure, ethics, and state of mind, so much so that they would rather cross the ocean than go from Burlington House (2) or South Kenxington to Charles (3).
In fact, this goes further than across the ocean. After crossing thousands of miles of the Atlantic Ocean, it was discovered that There was a group of people in Greenwich Village in New York who spoke the same language, similar to the people of charsh, and the two had little contact with people at MIT, as if scientists were people who could only speak Tibetan. This problem is not only here, but because of certain peculiarities of our education and society, it is slightly exaggerated here; Due to the characteristics of another English-speaking society, it has shrunk somewhat. But in general, the problem exists throughout the West.
I wanted to show that things were serious, though I wasn't thinking about the funny story of a celebrity from Oxford University who had come to Cambridge for a banquet. I heard the story was about A.L. Smith, which took place around the 1890s, and I guessed that the location must have been St. John's College or Trinity College. Smith sat next to the headmaster, perhaps to the vice-chancellor's right, and he had a natural preference for talking to everyone in the room, even though the facial expressions of the neighbors did not give him encouragement. He spoke to a cheerful gentleman from Oxford sitting directly opposite, only to receive a grunt. To his surprise, someone asked another person, "Do you know what he's talking about?" Be all abroad. Hearing this, even Smith couldn't hold his breath. Fortunately, the headmaster saved him from embarrassment by socializing, saying, "Oh, they are mathematicians!" We never talk to them. ”
Yes, I want to show that things are serious. I believe that the rational life of The whole of Western society is increasingly being split into diametrically opposed poles. What I mean by rational life also includes a large part of our real life, and I in no way think that the two can be distinguished in a deep sense. I'll talk about real life later. These opposing poles, one of which are literary artists, who, on unobtrusive occasions, regard themselves as "intellectuals" and have no one in sight. I remember G.H. Hardy (4) saying to me sometime in the 1930s with a puzzled look, "Have you noticed how the word 'intellectual' is used today?" It seems to have a new definition that no longer includes people like Rutherford (5), Eddington (6), Dirac (7), Adrian (8) or people like me. It's a little weird, don't you think?"
Writers and artists are at one pole, and scientists at the other pole, especially physical scientists. There is a gap of mutual incomprehension between the two poles, especially among young people, sometimes even hostility and resentment, but in most cases a lack of understanding. They harbor an interesting and distorted image of each other. Their views are very different, and it is difficult to find common ground, even to the point of emotional. Non-scientists tend to think of scientists as rash and rhetorical. Let us take Tous Eliot (9) as a typical example, we will hear him speak of his desire to revitalize poetry, for which we have little hope, but he will be satisfied, and he and his colleagues are willing to prepare the soil for the emergence of a new Kidd or Grimm (10). That's his tone—cautious and restrained, and the writers are good at it, which is the restrained tone of the culture they represent. They heard a much louder voice, typified by Rutherford, who would exclaim, "This is the sublime age of science!" It's the Elizabethan era of science!" Many of us have heard these words, and many other humble remarks; Of course, we have no doubt that in Rutherford's mind, who will play the role of Shakespeare. No matter how much the writer uses his brain, it is difficult to understand: what he said is completely correct.
"That's how the world ends, not with a loud bang but with a whimper." (11) (By the way, scientists would never make such predictions.) Compare this verse to Rutherford's famous clever answer: "Lucky fellow, Rutherford!" He was always on the cusp of the waves. "Yeah, it's the wave I set off, didn't it?"
Non-scientists have the deep-seated impression that scientists are blindly optimistic and do not understand the human condition. On the other hand, the scientists are convinced that the literary and artistic artists are completely incapable of foresight, especially indifferent to their own compatriots, which is essentially irrational; They are obsessed with confining art and thought to the present existence, and so on. Anyone who has the slightest ability to criticize others can make a lot of similar comments behind their backs. Neither view is entirely nonsense, both destructive, and largely due to harmful misunderstandings. Let me now turn to two of the most profound misunderstandings.
Let's start with the optimism of scientists. Such accusations are often raised and almost become clichés; Those who make such accusations include some of the most perceptive non-scientists today. But this accusation arises from the indistinguishable line between personal and social experience, conflating the situation of the individual with the plight of society, and most scientists I am familiar with feel — and as well as the non-scientists I know — that our personal situation is tragic. We are all lonely, and sometimes we escape loneliness through loving, loving, or creative activity, but these successful escapes in life are just beams of light that we make ourselves as we walk the path of darkness, and we all die alone. Some of the scientists I know who believe in the Apocalypse (12) may not have felt this sense of tragedy as strongly for them. I can't say for sure. As far as most sentient people are concerned, no matter how exhilarating and joyful they may be, their character—part of the stabilizing force of life—seems stronger. This is true for the scientists I know best, and for anyone else.
But almost all of them — and that's where hope really lies — do not understand why social circumstances are necessarily tragic simply because of their personal circumstances. We are all lonely and lonely. Yes, it is our irresistible destiny, but there are many things in our situation that do not depend on fate, and if we do not fight, we are not fully worthy of being human.
For example, most of us humans are malnourished and die prematurely, which is, to put it bluntly, the social dilemma. People are confused by witnessing this sight in loneliness, which makes people feel powerless to allow strange tragedies to unfold and starve others.
As a whole, scientists are less caught up in this confusion than others, often eager to try out what they can think of, and tend to think it will work unless it turns out to be unworkable. That's their true optimism, and that optimism is something the rest of us need in particular.
It is this spirit of kindness and perseverance to stand on the side of one's own compatriots and strive unceasingly that makes scientists think that the social outlook of people of another culture is despicable. It is true that some of them take the problem too lightly, but that is only a part of them, and cannot be regarded as the representative of scientists.
I remember being repeatedly asked by a well-known scientist: "Why did most writers adopt an apparently barbaric and outdated social view in the Plantagenet Dynasty (13)? Yeats, Pound, Wyndham Lewis, most of them have swayed the literary and artistic direction of our time, are they not only politically stupid but also repulsive people? Isn't the influence of the group they represent bringing the shadow of Auschwitz closer?"
I thought then, and still do, that the correct answer is not to argue in vain. According to my trusted friend, it is useless to say that Yeats was not only a brilliant poet but also a great man of high moral character. It is useless to deny well-known facts. To be honest, the problem is that there was a connection between some artists of the early 20th century and the wild anti-social trends of the time, which writers have not seen for a long time. That is one of the many reasons why some of us turn our backs on art and try to carve out new or different approaches. (Rather, we felt that there was something wrong with the literary style and that it was no longer good for us.) And because literary and artistic fashions go hand in hand with evil or absurd social trends, our sense of being reinforced. )
Although many writers and artists have been in the literary world for a period of time, it has long been a thing of the past, or at least the situation is very different. Literature changes more slowly than science, does not have the same restraining and corrective power as science itself, and therefore its lost period is longer. It would be inappropriate for scientists to look at writers in terms of the situation between 1914 and 1950.
These are two of the biggest misconceptions between the two cultural groups. Ever since I started talking about both cultures, I've been holding a certain critical view. Most of my scientist friends think I have some truth, as do most of the writers I know who are still creating. But some very pragmatic non-scientists disagree with me. They think I've simplified the problem, and if I were to talk about it like I did, I should say that there are at least three cultures. They argue that although they are not scientists, they resonate with the thoughts and feelings of scientists. Like scientists, they see contemporary culture and art as of little use, and even more excessively. J.H. Plum, Alan Bullock, and some other American sociologists I know say they are adamantly opposed to classifying themselves in the same cultural category as those who have no contact with them to the point of death, or who see them as people who are busy creating a climate without social hope.
I respect the reasons for these objections. "Two" is a very dangerous number word, which is why the speculative process is very dangerous. Attempts to split anything in two should be highly suspicious. I thought about whether to further subdivide the question for a long time, but finally decided not to do that. I'm not just exploring a novel metaphor, but it's also by no means a cultural picture, so it's appropriate to call it two cultures, and further subdivision brings more disadvantages.
The question of science is indeed a culture, not only in the sense of knowledge or in the sense of anthropology. That is, its members do not need to, and certainly do not usually fully understand each other. Biologists often have only a rather vague idea of contemporary physics, but there are common views, norms, manners, attitudes, and ideas among them. The extent and depth of this commonality is simply astonishing, and it also involves other forms of thought, such as religion, political beliefs or class backgrounds.
Compared with other people in the intellectual circles, according to statistics, there are slightly more scientists without religious beliefs, although there are also many religious believers, and there is a gradual increase in young scientists. Also statistically, there are slightly more politically left-leaning scientists, although many always claim to be conservatives and are more common among young people. In this country and in the United States, a considerable number of scientists come from poor families. However, this has little effect on their overall ideology and mannerisms. In terms of day-to-day work and most of their emotional lives, there is a closer point of view between scientists than non-scientists with the same religious and political beliefs and class backgrounds. I can venture to say that it is natural for them to take the future for granted. Whether they like it or not, how different their tendencies and colors are, they react similarly without hesitation. - This is the truth of the same culture.
In another cultural context, there is a much greater variety of opinions. Obviously, between these two cultures, there are various forms of thought and feeling. But I believe that its influence spreads in all directions from the pole of total ignorance of science, which casts an unscientific atmosphere over the whole "traditional" culture, far deeper and more extensive than we realize; This atmosphere, which we do not recognize, often reaches the point of anti-science. The feelings of one pole lead to the hostile emotions of the other pole. If scientists take the future as their responsibility, people of traditional culture hope that there is no future. Today, it is still traditional culture that sustains the Western world, and the emergence of scientific culture has not significantly weakened it.
This polarization is a loss to all of us, to people and society, both as concrete losses, as well as intellectual losses and creative losses. I would like to emphasize that it is a mistake to think that these three aspects can be clearly distinguished. But I want to focus first on the loss of intelligence.
The extent to which the two sides do not understand each other is no longer an interesting joke. In this country, where we have 50,000 scientists at work, and about 80,000 professional engineers and applied scientists, my colleagues and I have had the opportunity to talk to 30,000 to 40,000 of them during the war and in the post-war years, or 25 percent of the total. That number is enough to serve as a prime example for us, even though most of the people we talk to are under the age of 40. Through conversation we can find out what books they are reading and what questions are going on in their heads. I'm blunt enough to say that a guy like me who likes them and respects them is no better than surprise. We did not expect that their connection with traditional culture was so weak, almost distant.
As one might expect, some of the best scientists had and still have a lot of excess energy and widespread interest. We've met a couple of well-read scientists, and literary people have talked about things they've dabbled in. But that's rare, after all. Most scientists, if asked again and again what books they had read, would confess frankly, "Oh, I've tried to read a little dickens." "It was as if Dickens was a particularly esoteric and less worthwhile writer. In fact, that is how they saw him, and Dickens became an incomprehensible specimen of literature and art, and this discovery was only one of the wonderful results of their whole approach.
Of course, when reading Dickens, or any writer we hold dear, they are merely paying homage to the traditional culture. They have their own culture, meticulous, precise and in constant activity. This culture contains many arguments, often more rigorous and speculative than the subjects of literary and artistic figures; Although scientists love to use words whose meanings are not approved by writers and artists, the meaning is accurate, and when they use the words "subjective", "objective", "philosophy" or "progressive", they understand their meaning in their hearts, although these words do not conform to the habits of ordinary people.
It should be remembered that they are highly talented people whose culture is precise and admirable in every sense. It doesn't contain much art, but music is an important exception. They love to talk and argue, have a deaf ear, and love close-grained records and color photographs. But there is very little reading, and it is rare for someone to read a book; When asked what books they read, they would answer with great vivo, "Reading?" I like to see my books as tools. "It's hard not to distract your mind. But what tool can a book be used as? A hammer? A primitive shovel?
Books are read very little. As for the novels, poems, plays, and histories that are indispensable to most literary and artistic people, which are like butter bread, they almost never ask about it. This does not indicate that they are not interested in psychological, moral, or social life. They are more interested in social life than most of us. In terms of moral life, in general they are a group of noble intellectuals; There is a moral element at the core of science itself, and almost all scientists have their own moral code. Psychologically, they are as interested as most of us, but I think they are interested in it later. Therefore, it is not a matter of lack of interest, but mainly that they believe that the whole traditional culture is not very relevant to these interests. Of course, this view of theirs is completely wrong. As a result, their imaginations are weakened and they suffer from it.
But what about the other pole? They are also very difficult, even more so, because they are more conceited, so far pretentious, and regard traditional culture as the whole of "culture", as if there is no place for natural science, as if the exploration of natural science itself has little value and will not produce any results, as if the edifice of natural science is not the most wonderful masterpiece that the human mind has built together. Moreover, most non-scientific people have no concept of this building, and even if they want to build it, they can't do anything about it. In the long career of intellectual curiosity they have gone through, it seems to be closed eyes and ears, but this situation of closed eyes and ears is not naturally formed, but the result of training, or complete lack of training.
Because of their closed eyes and ears, they don't know that they are lonely. Hearing that scientists had not read a decent work of literature, they let out a pitiful laugh and disdainfully called them experts of ignorance, though their own ignorance was equally astonishing. I have contracted with many social field people who are very cultured by the standards of traditional culture, and they have openly expressed disbelief at the ignorance of scientists. Once or twice, I couldn't help but ask the people present how many of them could explain the second law of thermodynamics. Silent, no one answered. But the question I ask about science is only the equivalent of: Have you read Shakespeare?
I believe that if I ask a simpler question, such as: What does quality or acceleration mean? The question is equivalent to: Will you read? Even so, 9 out of 10 well-educated people don't know what I'm talking about. So the towering edifice of modern physics rises, and the vast majority of the brightest minds in the Western world know about it as much as their Neolithic ancestors.
Turning to a similar problem, my non-scientist friends see it as a problem of low interest. The University of Cambridge is a school where scientists and non-scientists alike can get together for dinner every night. About two years ago, one of the most amazing experiments in the whole of science was successful. I am not referring to the Soviet Union's Artificial Earth satellites — which are admirable as a feat of successful application of existing knowledge and organization, albeit for entirely different reasons. I'm referring to the experiment that Yang Zhenning and Lee Zhengdao did at Columbia University, one of the most creative and perfect experiments, but the results were so amazing that people almost forgot its beauty. This experiment brings us back to some of the most basic things in the physical world. Intuition, axioms... These questions are all standing up. The result is often called equal opposition. If there had been a serious exchange between the two cultures, the success of the experiment would have been the center of discussion at every table at Cambridge University. But what about the actual situation? I wasn't there at the time, but I wanted to ask that question.
There seems to be no place for the two cultures to meet, and I don't want to waste time saying that it's a pity, that the reality is more serious than that, and that in the nature of thought and creation we have missed the rarest opportunity. The collision of two subjects, two disciplines, two cultures, or what we call two brilliant groups of great personalities, should provide an opportunity for creation, and this is how breakthroughs have arisen in the history of the development of ideas. There is such an opportunity now, but the opportunity seems to exist in a vacuum, because there can be no dialogue between the two cultures. It's strange how little of the science of the 20th century has been absorbed into the art of the 20th century. Occasionally, it is found that the poet tries to use scientific words, but uses them incorrectly—there was a time when the word "refraction" appeared mysteriously in the lines of the poem, and the word "aurora" seemed to be fantasized by the writer as a particularly precious light.
Of course, this is not the way in which science benefits art, but it should dissolve into art along with our whole experience of thought, and use it naturally, like other words.
As I mentioned earlier, cultural separation exists not only in Britain, but in the entire Western world. But it may be particularly prominent in Britain for two reasons: first, we are keen on the specialization of education, which is rooted in the continent more deeply than any country in the Eastern and Western worlds; The second is our tendency to keep our social form intact, and as we fix economic inequalities, this tendency is not diminishing but intensifying, especially in education. This means that once the phenomenon of cultural separation is established, the entire social force reinforces it, not weakens it.
The two cultures had parted ways 60 years ago, but the Marquis of Salisbury (14) was able to have his own laboratory; Prime Minister Arthur Ballford (15) had considerable interest in the natural sciences; Before joining the government, John Anderson (16) studied organic chemistry in Würzburg, Germany, and also studied many disciplines, and this cross-cultural activity of the upper echelons of the government is now unlikely, even unthinkable.
In fact, the separation between scientists and non-scientists is more difficult to bridge in the younger generation than it was 30 years ago. 30 years ago, the dialogue between the two cultures had long ceased, but at least on both sides of the chasm could barely maintain a cold smile. Now politely stop talking, and only make faces at each other. Not only do young scientists feel that they belong to a culture on the rise, but they know they can find comfortable jobs, and it is very lucky to watch people who work in English or history earn sixty percent of their wages. Talented young scientists are not as worried about uselessness as the protagonists of the novel Lucky Jim, or find the work they do ridiculous. In fact, some of the complaints of Amis (17) and his friends are precisely the dissatisfaction of art graduates who have difficulty finding careers.
There is only one way out of all this: rethink our education. In this country, for the two reasons I have mentioned above, the situation is more difficult than in any other country. Almost everyone will agree that our schooling is too specialized. But at the same time, everyone feels that no one can change it. Other countries, like us, are dissatisfied with their own educational situation, but they are not as resigned as we are.
The United States educates a considerable number of children until the age of 18, and the content of the teaching is far more extensive, but the requirements are not strict; They hope to solve this problem within 10 years, although there may not be so much time. In comparison, the Soviet Union educated more children, and the content of teaching was broader than ours, but the requirements were too severe. They are trying to make things normal. Scandinavian countries, especially the Swiss, who spent a great deal of time learning foreign languages due to practical needs, were affected, but they also noticed the problem.
And what about us? Have we become rigid enough to no longer show flexibility?
Speaking to the Principal of secondary schools on this issue, they said that our highly unique level of specialisation was due to scholarship examinations at Oxford and Cambridge universities. If that were the case, one should not consider changing the Oxford and Cambridge scholarship examinations. However, to believe that this would be done without hassle would underestimate the complex domestic forces of resistance. Our whole history of education shows that we can only increase the specialization of education, not weaken it.
Somehow, we have given ourselves the task of producing a few of the best — proportionally fewer than in any other country — to train specialists in a particular discipline. For the first 150 years, The University of Cambridge trained a specialty in mathematics, later mathematics or classical literature, and then the natural sciences, but only a single choice was allowed. It is likely that this process is long and irreversible. I think it's a disastrous process to allow a culture to grow, and I even think it's almost a fatal blow if we're going to fulfill our actual mission in the world.
(Translated by Lan Renzhe)
exegesis:
(1) William Lawrence Breg (1890-1971): Famous British physicist.
(2) Burlington Pavilion: The site of the Royal College, the British Academy of Sciences and the British Society in London.
(3) Charles: London's Cultural District, on the north bank of the River Thames, southwest of the city of London, is home to artists and writers.
(4) G.H. Hardy (1877-1949): Famous British mathematician.
(5) Ernest Rutherford (1871-1937): British chemist and physicist born in New Zealand, winner of the 1908 Nobel Prize in Chemistry.
(6) Arthur Eddington (1882–1944): British astronomer.
(7) Paul Dirac (1902-1984): British physicist who won the 1933 Nobel Prize.
(8) Edgar Adrian (1889–1977): British biologist. He was awarded the 1932 Nobel Prize in Medicine.
(9) Toss Eliot (1888-1965): Famous Modern English poet and critic.
(10) Thomas Kidd (1558–1594): English playwright. Robert Green (1560–1592): English poet and playwright. Both are the precursors of Shakespeare's plays.
(11) This is a verse by Tor S. Eliot, see The Hollow Man.
(12) Apocalypse: A religion that believes that the gods will appear or reveal to man.
(13) Plantagenet Dynasty: The English dynasty in English history from Henry II to Richard III (1154-1399).
(14) Robert Salisbury (1830–1903): British politician.
(15) Arthur Ballford (1848–1930): British philosopher and politician, Prime Minister of the United Kingdom from 1902 to 1906.
(16) John Anderson (1882–1958): British politician.
(17) Kingsley Amis (1922-1995): Contemporary British novelist and poet, "Lucky Jim" is one of his representative novels.
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