Elegance in Science: The beauty of simplicity
Product DescriptionWe usually associate a sense of elegance with art or fashion design, poetry or dance, but the idea of elegance is surprisingly important in science as well. The use of the term is most apparent in the "elegant proofs" of mathematics--which Bertrand Russell once described as "capable of a stern perfection such as only the greatest art can show"--but as Ian Glynn reveals in this fascinating new book, the idea of elegance is essential to scientists working in all fields.Glynn draws on a wide range of examples that demonstrate the elegance of science, from Pythagoras' theorem and Archimedes' proof to Kepler's Laws, the experiments that demonstrated the nature of heat, and the several extraordinary episodes that led to Watson and Crick's discovery of the structure of DNA. Scientists often share a sense of admiration and excitement on hearing of an elegant solution to a problem, an elegant theory, or an elegant experiment. For scientists, as for artists, elegance implies beauty, simplicity, clarity, and proportion; the elegant solution has a kind of stunning and unalterable rightness that inspires wonder and awe. The idea of elegance may seem strange in a discipline that prides itself on objectivity, but only if science is regarded as a dull activity of counting and measuring. It is, of course, far more than that, and Glynn shows precisely how and why elegance is a fundamental aspect of the beauty and imagination involved in scientific activity. An elegant solution may not always be a correct one, Glynn cautions, but elegance is deeply related to important philosophical issues of inference and best explanation.Written with the same clarity and elegant simplicity it describes,Elegance in Scienceexplores an often overlooked but profoundly important aspect of scientific discovery.Amazon.com Exclusive: A Q&A; with Ian Glynn, Author ofElegance in ScienceAuthor Ian GlynnQ:Can you please define “elegance” as it relates to your book?A:I spend the first chapter of the book discussing mathematical or scientific proofs, or theories or experiments, which are generally regarded as elegant, sometimes contrasting them with those that are not. Looking at the overall picture it becomes clear that elegant proofs or theories or experiments possess most or all of the following features: They are simple, ingenious, concise and persuasive; they often have an unexpected quality, and they are very satisfying. Once one has understood the argument behind the proof or theory or experiment, it can be seen at a glance, and one has no doubts about its validity. Perhaps the most surprising member in this list of features is the “unexpected quality;” so let me give an example. When Thomas Henry Huxley read Darwin’s account of his theory of evolution by natural selection his comment was “How extremely stupid not to have thought of that!”Q:Is there a particular message that you hope the reader takes from your book?A:I believe that too much science teaching is almost wholly impersonal, and that discussion of the way critical problems were solved by the elegant theories or experiments of particular scientists working against particular historical backgrounds can make both learning and teaching much more attractive. In writing the book I have been surprised at what complicated and diverse lives, and what complicated and diverse characters--at times admirable, at times deplorable--successful scientists have had, and how closely interwoven their daily lives and their scientific work have sometimes been. To learn about heat without hearing about the extraordinary life of the American farm boy who became Count Rumford, or to learn about light without hearing about the Quaker Thomas Young, seems to me a bit like learning about genetics without knowing about Mendel and his peas. And it’s not just the personal history that is interesting. The qualities that make a theory or an experiment elegant are themselves a source of pleasure; they make the work easier to understand, and more memorable.Q:What inspired you to write about the idea of elegance in science? Was there a particular moment that inspired you?A:More than twenty years ago I was asked by an undergraduate science society in Cambridge to give a talk about my own research. My colleagues and I in the Cambridge Physiological Laboratory had just got some very interesting experimental results, but we weren’t yet sure that those results were right or that our interpretation of them was valid. To talk about work that might later be proved wrong would be rash; on the other hand to talk about our older experiments when we were preoccupied with thinking about our newer ones didn’t seem very inviting. Instead of talking about my own research, I suggested a subject that had fascinated me since my school days: the nature and attractiveness of elegance in science. The physics teaching at my school was particularly good, and I think I was impressed at the way Newton’s three simple laws of motion and one simple law of gravity could explain so much about celestial or terrestrial motion. I was also intrigued at the way concepts of force and distance and mass led to the ideas, first of mechanical work and then of energy. In biology I found it fascinating that four different topics--geographical distribution of animals, comparative anatomy, embryology, and the study of fossils--all supported the theory of evolution. And of course the idea of natural selection had all the features that "elegance" implied.Q:You use historical examples in your book to demonstrate the idea of elegance. Is there a particular person or event that you feel truly exemplifies the idea of elegance?A:There are many scientists in many fields who could reasonably be suggested, but if there has to be a beauty contest I think the winner would have to be Newton. It’s not just the simple elegance and staggeringly wide-ranging explanatory power of his law of universal gravitation and his three laws of motion, but also the extraordinary breadth of his activities. These ranged from the elegant-and-highly-sophisticated: his invention of fluxions (the basis of calculus) and his work on optics (including sorting out the nature of white light), to the elegant but charmingly simple: measuring the speed of sound by going into the cloister on the north side of Neville’s Court, Trinity College, seeing with what frequency he had to clap his hands for each clap to coincide with the echo of the previous clap, pacing out the length of the cloister, doing a simple sum and getting the right answer.