phaeton magazine issue 02
DESCRIPTION
The second issue of Phaeton, the magazine of the London History of Science Society (http://www.historyofscience.co.uk).TRANSCRIPT
PHAËTON
NEWSLETTER OF THE LONDON HISTORY OF SCIENCE SOCIETY
VOLUME 1 ISSUE 2 www.historyofscience.co.uk
Plus:
Science policy: technocracy or democracy?
Astronomy and 18th-century navigation
Event and book reviews
Calendar of forthcoming events
The use of Nazi research – an ethical dilemma
Inside cover
3
Editorial 5
Minutes of the inaugural meeting of the Society 6
Photos 8
Recent society events 10
Immoral science: Nazi medical research 12
Calendar of forthcoming events 18
Technocracy or democracy: science policy 20
Clocks, charts and almanacs 24
Book review: ‘The Periodic Table’ 28
Contents
Albert Einstein Photographed by Oren J. Turner (1947)
4
London History of Science Society
Committee
Julia Flint
President
Nick Seeber
Chairman &
Editor of Phaëton
Hen Crichton
Treasurer
Sam Kuper
Secretary
Rob Melville
Event manager
Michael Nevard
Webmaster
Kat Steger
Campaign director
5
Editorial Welcome to the second issue of Phaëton – I hope that you will find it absorbing, interesting and entertaining.
During the last few months the London History of Science Society has been very active: we have grown in members, and organised a number of events. Phaëton, however, has suffered due to my busy schedule: more time has passed than I anticipated since the first issue was published. I hope that the quality of writing we feature in this issue will be adequate recompense for the wait.
The cover story, Michael Nevard’s exploration of the ethical problems with using data from Nazi medical research, is a compelling and thought-provoking article which I am sure will stir up passionate debate and differing opinions.
Julia Flint investigates how decision-making for national science policy can be truly democratic, given the general lack in public scientific knowledge and understanding on which I commented in the last issue.
My own article is on maritime navigation in the 18th century – a topic which has been covered in popular science writing before before, but which I hope you will find bears examination nonetheless.
In this issue we also introduce book reviews, inaugurated by Joseph Nevard on Primo Levi’s The Periodic Table.
We also feature reviews of the events the society has organised and attended in the last few months, photos from the launch party, and details of forthcoming events in London over the summer.
Finally, I’m delighted to bring to your attention the new and improved website, where you will find not only digital versions of Phaëton, but also a calendar of forthcoming events, a discussion forum and the latest Society news.
Looking forward to a fascinating summer,
Nick Seeber
London, 15 May 2007
6
Minutes of the Extraordinary General Meeting of the London History of Science Society
Held on 17 t h November 2006 at 9 .30pm
The Pint Pot , 183 Tottenham Court Road, London, W1T 7PD
Present: Jul ia Fl int – Pres ident Nick Seeber – Chairman
Henriet ta Cr ichton Sam Kuper Rob Melvi l le
Michael Nevard Kat Steger
Late: (none)
Apologies: (none)
Secretary’s note:
The minutes are not presented here in chronological order. During the meet ing, there were several occasions when a number of separate discuss ions were being held simultaneously. For c larity, I have decided to set the precedent of transcribing by subject from the hand-written minutes . The result ing transcript ion then orders the subjects in the most readable fashion. I bel ieve that this process preserves a l l necessary semantic accuracy. Each meet ing ’s minutes are to be agreed at the s tart of the fol lowing meet ing.
Special business
The Pres ident and Chairman welcomed al l present to the inaugural meet ing of the London History of Science Society. Each person present was presented with a copy of Phaëton (vol . 1 , i ssue 1) autographed by the Pres ident and Chairman.
The Pres ident and Chairman agreed that other than themselves , those present were pending members of the Society, possess ing equal r ights to members .
A. Approval of agenda
A vote was not cal led, but no-one objected to the agenda.
B. Approval of previous minutes
This being the inaugural meet ing, the approval o f previous minutes was not on the agenda.
C. Open issues
This being the inaugural meet ing, there were no open issues.
D. New business
D.1. Elect ions of Officers
The Pres ident proposed that Henriet ta Cr ichton should be the Society ’s Treasurer . The Chairman seconded the proposal . An
7
open vote was held, with al l present in favour of the proposal . In the same way, Rob Melvi l le was elected Events Manager .
The Chairman proposed that Sam Kuper should be the Society ’s Secretary. The Pres ident seconded the proposal . An open vote was held, with al l present in favour of the proposal . In the same way, Michael Nevard was elected Webmaster and Kat Steger was elected Campaign Director .
D.2. Aims, Object ives , Manifesto
The aims of the Society were discussed br ief ly . Al l present seemed broadly in favour of the manifesto published in the f i rs t issue of Phaëton. The proposals of
• publishing Phaëton quarter ly on 15 t h Feb, 15 t h May, etc ,
• forging l inks with the Royal Society, and
• arranging dinner meet ings ,
were supported by al l present .
The Chairman of fered to hold responsibi l i ty for edit ing and publishing Phaëton even i f i t meant rel inquishing h is Chairmanship – though in the end this was not fe l t to be necessary.
No-one was ass igned the task of forging l inks with the Royal Society.
The duty of arranging dinner meet ings was seen to be that of the Events Manager .
D.3. Administrat ion costs , funding and membership fees
( removed on publicat ion)
D.4. Patronage and recruitment
( removed on publicat ion)
D.5 . Cal l for artic les
The Chairman issued a cal l for art ic les to be submitted for publicat ion in the next issue of Phaëton.
E. Any other business
The Secretary proposed that at each meet ing, at least f ive minutes of d iscuss ion should be mandated to be devoted to the history of sc ience. The Pres ident seconded the proposal , and i t was unanimously voted for . A discuss ion on the Hooke fo l io ensued.
F. Agenda for the next meeting
To be set .
8
Photos from the inaugural event
9
10
17 November 2006
Lecture on the Hooke Folio
The president reports: The inaugural event
of the London History of Science Society
was held on Friday 17th November 2007
in a lecture theatre at UCL. The pioneering
members attended an enthralling Royal
Institution lecture given by Lisa Jardine
entitled ‘The Rediscovered Hooke Folio:
What Happened Next?’
As an authoritative Robert Hooke expert,
and author of the popular book, ‘The
Curious Life of Robert Hooke’, Lisa
Jardine was able to offer us a riveting
insight into the history of this newly
discovered folio. The folio was discovered
in a “country house” in “Hertfordshire”
(although a Freudian slip led us to suspect
that its actual location was somewhere
entirely different).
The folio consists of Hooke’s transcripts of
the proceedings of the Royal Society,
copied from the minutes taken by Henry
Oldenburg, his predecessor as secretary
of the Royal Society. These pages are
followed by Hooke’s own rough notes from
his time as secretary. Lisa Jardine
believed that Hooke had removed the
minutes from the official transcripts of the
Royal Society in order to painstakingly
prove, perhaps amongst other things, his
claim to the invention of a pocket watch
before Christian Huygens published his
design in 1675.
By removing the notes from the gaze of
the Royal Society, and in more recent
times generations of Historians of Science,
Hooke shot himself in the foot as no
record remained of his invention, leaving
the priority of Huygens’s watch
unchallenged! The hitherto unseen pages
of the folio have shed light on Hooke’s
claim which, previously been believed to
be unfounded, has been disputed for
centuries.
The lecture closed with some thought-
provoking comments about the ‘business’
of science, the developing of protocols and
standards to which scientists have to
conform, and to which Robert Hooke was
so bad at conforming.
After the lecture, drinks and light
refreshments were served to the audience
at the venue and the members of the
Society had the opportunity to talk to
Professor Jardine. Mr Sam Kuper was
introduced to the members of the Society
by Prof. Jardine and was admitted as a
member forthwith.
Inaugural meeting of the Society
The Society then rejoined to a local
hostelry and held the inaugural meeting of
the Society. The minutes were captured by
the new secretary of the Society, Mr Sam
Kuper, and can be seen on page 7 of this
issue.
Society events
11
Photos of some of the members can be
seen on pages 8-9. For copies of the
photos please contact the President.
4 February 2007
President’s dinner
The members of the Society were kindly
invited to have dinner with the President at
her London residence. Over a delicious
dinner the history of science was
discussed, ideas for future event proposed
and new friendships made. It was decided
that the next dinner would be hosted by
the Chairman, with a date to be decided.
27 February 2007
In Armour Complete: Practising Safe
Sex in the Eighteenth Century
Famously ‘indelicate’ in his choice of
female company, the diarist James
Boswell enjoyed a lifelong relationship with
‘Signor Gonorrhoea’. Alternating between
bouts of unrestrained licentiousness and
bitter remorse, Boswell's history of
venereal disease was probably typical of
many men and women in Georgian
London.
Natasha McEnroe, Museum Manager of
the Grant Museum, UCL, provided an
entertaining and salutary insight into the
lives of Boswell and his contemporaries.
From sheepskin condoms to mercury
medicines, the Chairman heard how
eighteenth-century Londoners battled the
pox.
5 March 2007
More on the Hooke folio…
Professor Jardine gave a follow-up talk on
the Hooke folio to an audience at the
Cambridge University Library. This was
attended by the Secretary who informed
the society that some progress had been
made in the study of the folio. A report by
the Secretary will follow in a further issue
of Phaëton.
21 March 2007
The Last Man Who Knew Everything:
Thomas Young
Young’s most recent biographer, Andrew
Robinson, gave a talk at the Royal College
of Surgeons on this incredible man – a
pioneer in so many fields: physics,
medicine, linguistics, Egyptology
mathematics, actuarial sciences and
navigation. The Chairman bought a copy
of Robinson’s book – a review will be
forthcoming in the next issue of Phaëton.
12
Immoral science: Ethical problems posed by Nazi research
Michael Nevard What are the limits of science? In the
journey towards knowledge of the world,
and faced with the innumerable problems
of research, some scientists left behind
any humane or ethical restrictions in
pursuit of results. Perhaps some of the
most horrifying examples of this took place
in Nazi Germany during the Second World
War. At the Nuremburg Trials, twenty-
three doctors and scientists were charged
with war crimes and crimes against
humanity for their role in experiments
carried out on unwilling prisoners in
concentration camps, and participation in
the mass murder which took place there.
For what end was science perverted in this
way? And is it possible for any of the
results to be used by reputable scientists?
During the Second World War, the
German military was faced with a host of
problems concerning its servicemen in
hostile environments. In particular the
Luftwaffe desperately wanted to improve
the survival of its airmen at high-altitude
and after having fallen into the icy waters
of the North Sea. By 1941 the use of
experiments of human subjects to provide
knowledge of these problems was seen as
essential, and the general attitude of
viewing certain groups in society as
expendable lead to the creation of
comprehensive programs of such research
into hypothermia and hypoxia. The work
was organised by the SS under the control
of Heinrich Himmler, and was led by Dr
Georg Weltz a radiologist. Initially the work
experimented on animals but the research
was extended to human subjects, which
were conducted by Dr Sigmund Rascher.
This body of work is perhaps the most
clear example of the brutality and
ruthlessness of the Nazi scientific mindset,
which was also applied to research on
malaria, antibiotics, chemical weapons,
poisons, weapons and surgical
techniques. Due to its strong backing from
the government, detailed documentation
and results have survived and can be
analysed today.
Where does the evidence of these
experiments come from? At the end of the
war, amid jubilation in their home
countries, the Allied forces in Germany
faced the grim task of uncovering the
details of the crimes that had occurred
under Nazi rule. Major Leo Alexander of
the US Army Medical Corps, was given
the task of investigating the so-called
‘scientific research’ into hypothermia which
had been carried out at the concentration
camp Dachau. His 1946 report, “The
Treatment of Shock from Prolonged
Exposure to Cold, Especially in Water”,
also known as the “Alexander Report”,
includes his analyses of both human and
animal experimentation, as well as
information from interviews with some of
the perpetrators. This document, included
as evidence at the Nuremburg Doctors
Trial, provides a clear and dispassionate
13
account of the atrocities committed in the
acquisition of the results and has proved
to be a controversial document since it
was written. The reason is that, given the
lack of controlled scientific evidence into
hypothermia, reputable scientists have
wanted to cite the report as evidence in
their research. Over time, both the
questionable scientific validity of the
results, and the ethical defensibility of
using information obtained in such an
immoral way, have fuelled a wider debate
about scientific ethics. We shall give a
brief account of what happened at
Dachau, look at the possible scientific
value of the results, and consider some of
the ethical questions they raise.
Tanks Of Ice
By the summer of 1942, the Nazi scientists
began a program of study into
hypothermia using human subjects. Two
principal sets of experiments were
devised: the first, to determine the human
body’s response to freezing water; the
second, to test and evaluate various
rewarming techniques for hypothermia
victims. All of these experiments were
carried out at Dachau concentration camp
in Germany, under the direction of Dr
Rascher.
A wooden tank measuring 2x2x2 metres
was filled with water and ice and
maintained at temperatures between 12°C
and 2.3°C. The experimental subjects
were placed in the tank, sometimes
dressed in the uniform of a German
airman, and sometimes naked. The
subjects’ rectal and skin temperatures
were monitored along with their heart
rates. Both blood and urine was sampled
to test for a range of effects. In the
rewarming experiments various
techniques were tested: rapid rewarming
with a hot bath; body-to-body rewarming;
packing in blankets; vigorous massage of
the whole body; diathermy of the heart
(using a electrical current to heat the heart
tissue), and various chemical stimulators.
The human cost of these experiments is
not easy to quantify. The suffering caused
to individuals was certainly extreme, and
there many fatalities as well as unknown
long-term effects. The Alexander report
stated that 107 experiments were
performed on unconsenting prisoners, of
which at least 13 died. However, Walter
Neff, an assistant to Rascher claimed that
up to 300 subjects were involved with 80
to 90 fatalities. The identities of the
individuals used are not known but it
appears the priority for subject selection Heinrich Himmler
14
from Dachau’s diverse prisoner population
was: Jews, foreigners, gypsies, criminals,
and political prisoners.
Some evidence was found that the type of
clothing worn by the victim did affect the
cooling process and certain protective
outfits could minimise the danger of
hypothermia. The physical condition of the
victims also effected the rate of cooling
with emaciated subjects experiencing a
faster temperature drop after being
immersed in the water. Violent shivering
and stiffening of the limbs took hold as the
skin temperature dropped rapidly in the
first 5 minutes of exposure, and after 40 to
50 minutes in the tank the face of the
subject turned blue. At a core temperature
of 31°C, consciousness began to cloud
and as the temperature dropped further
the heart beat became ragged and
irregular. Between 25.7°C and 24.3°C the
subject died of cardiac arrest. Of seven
known victims of this method, the total
time of immersion before death was
between 53 and 106 minutes.
The rewarming results indicated that
immersing the victims in a hot bath (40°C
to 50°C) was the most effective way to
treat the hypothermia victims and
particularly to reverse the highly
dangerous ‘afterdrop’. The ‘afterdrop’ was
the phenomena when the victim’s core
temperature continued to drop even after
being removed from the water, explaining
why rescued pilots sometimes died half-
an-hour after being rescued, even after
attempted rewarming. In general the other
techniques were shown to be relatively
ineffective particularly body-to-body
rewarming where, in this case, the victim
was forced to lie next to a nude female
subject.
In early 1943, Rascher moved to
Auschwitz to determine whether the rapid
rewarming method would be successful for
victims of cold-air-induced hypothermia. In
spring 1945 Rascher and his wife were
imprisoned by the SS, and after a failed
escape attempt they were executed just
two weeks before the Allies entered
Dachau. Although the reason for his
capture and death is not known, it is
thought that Himmler, in charge of both the
SS and the scientific program, was trying
to prevent Rascher testifying against him
after the end of the war.
Is it science?
In many cases of unethical and illegal
experiments carried out in the name of
science there is very little recorded
Sigmund Rascher
15
information that survives the demise of the
perpetrators. This means that the full
horror of the crimes committed and the
true suffering of the victims slips into
unrecorded history. However, in the case
of the Nazi hypothermia research Himmler
himself kept records which were
discovered by Major Alexander even
though the labs themselves had been
completed destroyed before the Allied
troops arrived at the concentration camps.
Since this data was discovered
researchers in hypothermia have used and
referenced the Dachau data. This has in
turn sparked a highly-charged debate
about whether the findings have any
scientific validity, and whether it is right to
reference them in contemporary research
papers. It appears that American military
scientists had little doubt about the validity
of the data that had survived in Himmler’s
possession. Immediately after the war, the
cooling curve from the Dachau results (the
rate at which the core temperature of the
victims fell) was compared to
measurements from US pilots that had
been rescued from cold water. The non-
fatal portion of the Dachau data seemed to
fit well with these other results and so
seen as reasonable. The data were also
used as part of investigations into the
viability of using hypothermia to preserve
the life of the heart during open-heart
surgery. A set of studies on temperature
variation, and some on the cardiovascular
system referenced the Dachau data,
primarily to corroborate particular findings.
Aside from these example of the data
being used, many scientists have had
significant reservations. Some have
argued that Rascher was not a trained
researcher, and since he clearly was a
The gates of the concentration camp at Dachau
16
sadistic murderer he cannot really be
trusted. However he worked with two main
collaborators Holzloehner and Finke who
did have the required scientific credentials,
and the work seemed to have been used
within the Luftwaffe and Wehrmach in a
way which suggests the Nazi’s had no
problems with the results’ credibility. On
the other hand, Andrew Ivy of the
University of Chicago, who evaluated the
data for the Nuremburg trials, suggested
this greatest of medical tragedies was
compounded by the fact that they added
“nothing of significance to medical
science”. However later he conceded that
some of the data were “obviously good”
and there had been “some very worthwhile
results”.
Doctor Robert Pozos, a specialist in
hypothermia at the University of Minesota,
believes that most of the data obtained
already existed from experiments on
animals, and the experiments could have
been conducted on volunteers by dropping
their core temperature by 2°C or 3°C, with
no risk of death. Recent studies of
rewarming techniques have also
attempted to partially replicate the Dachau
experiments but under safe, controlled and
humane conditions. Rascher’s conclusion
that body-to-body rewarming was
ineffective was corroborated but the
researchers dismissed the Dachau
findings as useless because of the
“emaciated condition of the subjects as
well as questions regarding the protocol
and accuracy of the results”.
Another problem is the difficulty of judging
the Dachau research by modern scientific
standards. At the time, small numbers of
experiments and case studies were
considered sufficient evidence to support a
hypothesis without the requirement for
controlled repetition and statistical analysis
of significance. It is also evident that,
under the pressure of war, experiments
would have been rushed and
documentation limited to the essentials
only. This lack of reported detail does not
show that the methodology was
necessarily shoddy, especially as most of
the researchers’ own papers were
destroyed.
It seems then that, from a utilitarian point
of view, the findings from Dachau did have
some value, and were certainly used for
various worthwhile ends. However, some
people, including relatives of victims, and
survivors, believe that even partially
accepting the data’s validity gives some
kind of acceptance of the Nazi philosophy
that produced it. Conversely, others
believe that if it can be used for some
good end, and particularly if helping to
save lives, then the data should be used in
an appropriate and respectful way. As we
have seen, the findings from Dachau have
already used for various worthwhile
scientific ends, and this cannot be undone.
However this debate is highly relevant to
science as a whole.
Never Again?
In our discussion we have only looked at a
small part of the Nazi experimental
programme; concentration camp inmates
and other unwilling human subjects were
also used to investigate: altitude sickness,
17
drinking sea water, infectious diseases,
battle injuries and their treatment,
chemical weapons, fertilisation and
sterilisation, and research related directly
to ethnic cleansing policies. It is also
apparent that similarly unethical
programmes have, at various times, been
carried out under other governments
across the world, particularly in countries
at war.
It is useful here to consider how science
should deal with possible contemporary or
future cases of military scientists using
people deemed as ‘expendable’ to further
their governments aims. Consider a
hypothetical future scenario: a repressive
regime is developing biological weapons
and to in order to protect its soldiers it is
also secretly testing antidotes to these
agents on political prisoners sentenced to
death. Given that the scientists involved
have been educated at respected
universities, and have access to current
scientific thinking, it is possible that the
research could be seen as valid with
respect to the latest scientific standards.
Given this, what would be the right thing to
do with a report on this work that fell into
the hands of a right-minded researcher
from an opposing nation? Should she
destroy or ignore the report? or would it be
more ethical to use the results to help
develop vaccines against a possible
forthcoming biological attack? It seems
likely that most people would say the
findings from the unethical source should
be used if it is scientifically valid, cannot
be gained from other ethical sources, and
could have a direct impact on saving lives.
There are, in fact, many real life cases
where the same crucial dilemma is
involved: how should science treat work
that was done unethically. After the
Second World War many German
scientists were taken to the United States
to assist with the arms race against the
Soviet Union, ignoring the fact that some
may have been involved in unethical
experimentation. Today with differing
moral views towards human cloning and
embryonic stem-cell research the same
issue is raised, but without the added
complexity of considering the ethics of
weapons research. If you are a professor
who believes that abortion is a moral
wrong, how can you assess the work of a
colleague who believes the opposite?
What about quoting that research in one of
your own papers?
Inevitably the whole debate over the use
of data from unethical research is
dependent on individuals’ own ethical
codes and on how they view the place of
science in society. It also reflects one’s
position on how far individual’s rights
should be subservient to the greater good.
In the face of war, or great suffering
caused by disease there will always be the
tendency to push aside the limits of what
is acceptable, but some people believe
that any use of results obtained in this way
is not justified, even at the loss of scientific
progress. With the Dachau hypothermia
data it has been used by reputable
scientists, but accompanied with a clear
explanation of how the results were
obtained, and the suffering inflicted on the
innocent victims. Whether even this is
acceptable is up to you.
18
Calendar
What happened to the polymaths?
Oliver Morton, Andrew Robinson & John Whitfield
Wednesday 16 May 7.00pm (£8/£5)
Lecture Theatre 1, The Royal College of Surgeons of England
Join the News Editor of Nature and this series' speakers to discuss why there are so few modern polymaths, and if there ought to be any at all.
Society visit to the
Foundling Museum
Saturday 9th June 4pm (£5/£4)
40 Brunswick Square, London WC1N 1AZ
The Foundling Museum tells the story of the Foundling Hospital, London's first home for abandoned children and of three major figures in British history: its campaigning founder the philanthropist Thomas Coram, the artist William Hogarth and the composer George Frideric Handel. This remarkable collection of art and social history is now housed in a restored and refurbished building adjacent to the original site of the Hospital, demolished in 1926. Up to a thousand babies a year were abandoned in early 18th-century London. In 1739 Thomas Coram established a “Hospital for the Maintenance and Education of Exposed and Deserted Children” which looked after more than 27,000 children until its closure in 1953. The Foundling Museum tells the story of the foundlings, how they lived and displays the many poignant objects relating to their lives at the Hospital.
The Asiatic
Enlightenments of
British Astronomy
Simon Schaffer
Wednesday 23 May 5.30pm (Free)
Lecture Theatre 1, The Cruciform Building, Gower Street, London WC1E 6BT.
Followed by a reception in the Wilkins North Cloisters
The crises of empire and their impact on our own cultures are high on the contemporary political agenda. The status of western sciences plays a major role in these debates. Some claim that their global dominance demonstrates the supreme value of one kind of knowledge; others that their worldly rule depended on the militant projects of imperialism. Complex encounters between British astronomers and scientists were played out in Bengal where, in 1789, an Arabic translation of Newton’s Principia Mathematica was produced by a Shi’ite scholar and political agent. How and why was this work conducted?
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How the media promotes the public
misunderstanding of science
Ben Goldacre
Tuesday 26 June 7.00pm–8.30pm (£8/£5)
Small Hall, Friends Meeting House, Euston Road, London NW1 2BJ
From MMR to the formula for the worst day of the year: every day in the media we are bombarded with miracle cures, hidden threats, amazing breakthroughs, and wacky boffin stories. But is there any evidence behind them?
Often there is none: but we can find patterns in the dirt, reflecting broader themes. If we are charitable, the pace of medical development has changed since the golden age of medicine, and the many smaller, incremental discoveries of modern medicine don't lend themselves so readily to exotic headlines.
But there are also more sinister forces at work. Bizarre and bad science reporting in the media may well be the product of ignorance among journalists, and the need to sell readers to advertisers. But more than that, these stories are often planted by people with clear personal and commercial interests, who exploit the flaws in the media's approach to science for their own gain.
And if the stories weren't so funny, it would all be very upsetting.
Islam and Medicine
Aziz Sheikh, Salim Khan
& Ehsan Masood
Thursday 19 July 2007 7.00pm-8.30pm (Free, but book in advance)
Wellcome Collection, 183 Euston Road, NW1 2BE
How do Islamic-era ideas of the human body compare with Western medical theory and practice? Join a doctor, a Hakim (traditional physician) and a philosopher to explore how two different medical systems are trying to live together in the modern world. What implications do these different views present for us as patients?
Speakers include Aziz Sheikh, Professor of Primary Care Research and Development, University of Edinburgh, Salim Khan, Director, Mohsin Institute, Leicester. The discussion will be facilitated by journalist Ehsan Masood.
Society Summer visit to
the Chelsea Physic
Garden
Date to be confirmed, please check the Society website (£7/£4)
66 Royal Hospital Road, London SW3 4HS
Situated in the heart of London, this 'Secret Garden' is a centre of education, beauty and relaxation. Founded in 1673 by the Worshipful Society of Apothecaries, it continues to research the properties, origins and conservation of over 5000 species.
20
Science Policy: Technocracy or democracy?
Julia Flint Science policy decisions affect every one
of us. So, why should a government
department decide, for example, which
vaccinations our children should have?
Nick Seeber’s article on popular science
writing in the last issue of Phaëton, alerted
us to the fact that the general public have
limited scientific literacy. They do not
understand enough about the prevalence,
aetiology and prognosis of childhood
diseases to be able to make informed
decisions about vaccinations. In the past
this has led to a ‘technocracy’ where the
experts make the decisions, dismissing
the views of the ‘ignorant and uninformed
public’1. But does this lack of education or
understanding preclude any public
involvement in scientific policy making? I
argue that ‘deliberation democracy’ could
be used to effectively combine informed
scientific opinion with values and beliefs
representative of the population, and
create responsible and respected scientific
policy.
Between 1945 and the 1980’s, the
predominant model for science policy was
the ‘Social Contract for Science’2.
1 Science and Public Policy : from
government to Governance 2 Vannevar Bush ‘Science: The Endless
Frontier’ (Washington: United States Government Printing Office:
Throughout this era peer review alone was
used to regulate science, and the
autonomy of scientists was unchallenged
by those outside the scientific community.
Alongside this, a ‘deficit model’ postulated
that the public did not understand enough
to make science policy decisions, and that
any public resistance to science policy
was due to their misunderstanding of the
science.
Cases of alleged fraud in science in the
1980’s challenged the autonomy of
scientists3. There began to be calls for
greater public scrutiny, as ‘science is too
important to be left only to the scientists’4.
In 1998, Dr. Andrew Wakefield challenged
the technocracy. He published a paper in
‘The Lancet’ suggesting a possible
causative link between the combined
Measles, Mumps and Rubella (MMR)
vaccination and autism. He concluded that
single vaccines should be given instead,
and in 2002 commented: "What
precipitated this crisis was the removal of
the single vaccine, the removal of choice,
and that is what has caused the furor -
because the doctors, the gurus, are
treating the public as though they are
some kind of moronic mass who cannot
make an informed decision for
themselves." The opinion that the public
should be more involved in scientific
policy-making is now widespread.
http://www.nsf.gov.od/lpa/nsf50/vbush1945.htm) 3 E.g. Accusation of David Baltimore, an
MIT Nobel laureate, of deliberately misrepresenting results 4 Department of Trade and Industry (2000)
White Paper on ‘Excellence and Opportunity : A Science and Innovation Policy for the 21
st Century.
21
Furthermore, ‘unless the public’s values
and attitudes are recognised, respected
and weighted along with scientific and
other factors’5, there will be no public
support of any decisions reached.
Wakefield’s research however, was “fatally
flawed” 6 and ten of the thirteen authors
have since retracted their published
interpretations. But official statements and
further research dismissing his claims
could do nothing to relieve many mothers’
doubts and concerns. Understandably,
vaccination rates dropped considerably. Dr
Wakefield may have thought he was giving
parents choice, but ‘expert’ opinions were
conflicting and the average parent lacked
the scientific literacy required to analyse
the papers for themselves. How could a
parent know who to believe or trust?
5 House of Lords Select Committee on
Science and Technology’s report, ‘Science and Society’, 2000 6
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/health/3510721.stm
In an environment of mistrust of expert
opinion, such as that created by the MMR
fiasco, there is a greater risk that activists
might ‘seize control of decisions on their
own terms’, and their unfounded
arguments might hold greater credibility
with the public7. Numerous groups and
websites currently proclaim the evils of
vaccination, reaching a wide audience to
whom these ‘expert’ opinions are just as
credible as those of the mainstream
medical profession.
Even now, after Wakefield has withdrawn
his statements and been discredited by
the medical profession, vaccination clinics
are full of mothers asking if the MMR
vaccination will make her child autistic.
Clearly parents require more explanation
about the vaccination policy, and
reassurance that their values and beliefs
7 Sheila Jasanoff ‘Technologies of
Humility: Citizen Participation in Governing Science
22
are understood and have been taken into
account by the ‘experts’. Evidently flooding
them with options, without providing the
education with which to make informed
choices, is not the answer.
Of course, every parent has the right to
refuse vaccinations, and so it could be
argued that it is up to individual parents to
satisfy themselves that they have made
the right decision. However, we have
already heard how policy decisions lead to
restrictions of choices, exemplified by the
withdrawal of the single Measles, Mumps
and Rubella vaccines. Furthermore it
takes great courage for a scientifically
illiterate parent to completely ignore the
strong recommendations of a medical
professional. I therefore believe that the
public needs more than just choices about
the extent to which they follow policy; they
need input into the creation of the policy.
Collecting votes from the whole public (for
example by a referendum) is the only way
to truly reflect the views of the public.
However, we have already seen an
example of the public having inadequate
scientific expertise to make such
decisions. Education is needed before the
public take any responsiblity for science
policy. Secondly, although it is obvious
that the public are able to inform
themselves when it is in their interests, for
example during times of national crisis or
when considering vaccination of their own
child, there are plenty of scientific policy
decisions that do not enter the individual’s
consciousness or concern. A currently
childless man may not see the need to
become informed about the MMR
vaccination: not only because he does not
see how it immediately affects him, but
also because he realises that his vote
counts so little amongst the millions of
voters – an example of so-called ‘rational
ignorance’8. Such a man might thus be
swayed easily by advertising or mass
opinion (‘tyranny of the majority’) and
would be unlikely to deliberate on his
decision before voting in a referendum.
Finally, it would be practically impossible
to organise serious deliberation by the
whole public and referenda on every topic.
Although this is the only way that the
whole public could be driven to reach
informed opinions, it clearly would not
work in practice.
So we have seen that both extremes – on
the one hand a technocracy, on the other
the involvement of the whole public – have
serious limitations with regards to scientific
policy making. But perhaps there is a
halfway house, a compromise that could
instil elements of democracy into science
policy decisions, without compromising
their veracity. Deliberative democracy has
been proposed as a solution to this
problem. It aims to include the views and
values of the public in science policy
without holding a referendum for the whole
public. Proponents of the process see its
origins in ancient Greece: in Athens there
was no place to gather together the whole
population for debate. Therefore a group
of citizens, chosen by lot, would debate
the issues on behalf of the public. In his
paper, ‘Deliberative Democracy’, James
8 Anthony Downs, ‘An economic theory of
democracy’
23
Fishkin uses three metaphors to defend
the principles of deliberative democracy –
the filter (deliberation to filter out
indefensible views), the mirror (political
equality as the group is representative)
and the mob (no tyranny of the majority as
debate is kept dispassionate) 9. The
tendency towards rational ignorance is
also removed as the vote of each
individual matters more. The decision
reached by the group is assumed to reflect
the decision that the entire population
would have reached had they deliberated
in this way. Policy makers then have the
chance to promote this representative
informed opinion rather than choosing
between following uninformed and
unreflective public opinion (no filter) or
ignoring public opinion entirely and
following their own single informed opinion
(no mirror).
It seems to me that the public would be
happier to co-operate with science policy
and follow mainstream expert advice if
they knew that some like-minded
individuals had had the opportunity to
assess and discuss all the available
evidence, and that the values and beliefs
used to make the decision reflected not
just scientists but the population as a
whole. Perhaps if a consensus conference
had been held for the MMR vaccine
debate, parents would have respected the
resulting policy and the vaccination
programme would not have been dealt
9 James Fishkin, ‘Deliberative Democracy’
in R.L. Simon (ed.), The Blackwell Guide to Social and Political Philosophy’ (Oxford: Blackwell), pp 221 - 238
such a blow by statistically insignificant
and inappropriately interpreted research.
24
Clocks, charts and almanacs: 18th century navigation
Nick Seeber
During the 18th century, the colonial
expansion of the major European powers
(Britain, France, Germany and others) put
a premium on navigational expertise that
would allow successful trade and conquest
across the globe. In particular, determining
longitude whilst at sea was seen by the
British government as an especially
relevant problem which justified vast
investment to find a solution through any
reliable means. In addition, accurate
astronomical observations both on sea
voyages and at home were critical: these
allowed, respectively, a charting of the
globe and the creation of nautical
almanacs, both essential for the
establishment of a successful maritime
empire. At the same time, as astronomy
served navigation, navigation was being
used by astronomers: for example,
observations of the transit of Venus were
the purpose of several simultaneous
voyages in 1761 under the auspices of the
Royal Society of London (of which more
later).
Deficiencies in navigation had been
brought into sharp relief in Britain by the
Shovel disaster of 1707, when four ships
and two thousand lives were lost in the
English Channel. In the public uproar
following this tragedy, particular
importance was placed on finding a
solution to the problem of longitude: that
is, discovering the distance East or West
of a meridian such as Greenwich or Paris.
In theory, this is a fairly simple problem, as
it only requires precise knowledge of the
time difference between the meridian and
the current location10
; but early 18th
century reality was that sea-borne
chronometers were too inaccurate, and
using astronomical observations to tell the
time required a predictive astronomy (ie
knowing exactly where stars and planets
would be at a precise time in the future)
which was at that time inadequate. Thus,
maintaining an accurate knowledge of
meridian time presented a challenging
problem. Stimulus for its solution was
provided by the Longitude Act of 1714,
which offered lucrative prizes for
techniques which would allow the reliable,
accurate and practical measurement of
longitude at sea, administered by the
‘Longitude Board’. The brilliant work of the
self-taught Yorkshire clockmaker George
10
Longitude (distance East or West of an
established meridian):
Since the earth performs one complete rotation
per day, 1 day = 1440 minutes
= 1 revolution of the earth
= 360° degrees of longitude
Therefore, 4 minutes = 1 degree of longitude
So if ‘local noon’ (when the sun is highest in the
sky, measured using a sextant) is at 1.55 pm
according to a chronometer set to Greenwich
time, you are 115 minutes or 28° 45’ West of
the Greenwich meridian.
Latitude (distance North or South of the
Equator) can be calculated from a
measurement of how far the sun is from the
horizon at ‘local noon’ and does not require a
chronometer.
25
Harrison – “the lone genius who solved the
greatest scientific problem of his day” – in
building immensely accurate individual
marine chronometers has been publicised
in popular science writing – most notably
Dava Sobel’s ‘Longitude’ (1996).
It has been argued, though, that the
compilation of accurate lunar and celestial
almanacs under the aegis of the Longitude
Board was of far greater value to
navigation during the latter half of the 18th
century, and I am inclined to feel that this
is justified. An almanac allowed repeated
corrections to be made to even an inferior
chronometer by frequent astronomical
observations, resulting in acceptable
accuracy whilst avoiding the cost and time
required to construct and care for a
exquisitely constructed one-of-a-kind
mechanism that required no adjustments
during a prolonged sea voyage. However,
the idea that there was a binary ‘either/or’
struggle between chronometers and
almanacs during the mid-18th century is a
naïve and erroneous reading of a more
complex situation: the reality is that both
components were required to construct a
workable solution that would benefit British
naval and mercantile interests. The
astronomical component of this solution
was the measurement of ‘lunar distances’.
The motion of the moon is comparatively
faster than the apparent motion of the
fixed stars, which allows the moon to be
used as a clock if its motion can be
predicted in advance and detailed in
tables. To do this needs three things:
sufficiently complete tables of celestial
observation; an accurate instrument for
measuring angles between the moon and
a celestial point of reference from aboard
a ship; and mathematical equations to
predict the motion of the moon in the
future. The exhaustive, accurate and long-
term observations of the Astronomer
Royal John Flamsteed provided the frame
of fixed stars in the heavens, whilst the
reflecting quadrant of John Hadley allowed
sufficiently accurate observations to be
made. Finally, in 1755, James Bradley,
another Astronomer Royal, compared the
tables made by the German
mathematician Tobias Mayer using
Eulerian equations with his own
observations, and found them to be
adequate for the purposes of navigation.
This set in motion a British effort to
develop a nautical almanac, which was
accomplished through the work of Nevil
Maskelyne, who tested Mayer’s tables on
several voyages and later implemented
the production of the subsequently annual
Nautical Almanac and Astronomical
Ephemeris, a publication which allowed
reliable and consistent measurement of
longitude to an accuracy of less than 1
degree.
In real terms, however, the contribution of
astronomy to navigation was far more than
providing the material for almanacs. Being
able to know fixed positions on the globe’s
surface allowed more accurate geography
to be performed, and in turn enhanced the
performance of other endeavours, such as
cartography. Writers have argued that the
ship can be considered an eighteenth
century instrument of discovery, as it
shaped the ways in which European
voyagers interacted with the locations that
26
they visited. In particular, the way Cook
charted the Pacific Islands is very strongly
influenced by his method of sailing around
the islands whilst triangulating the
distances which separated points on the
land and constructing a cohesive map
from these data, combined with
measurements of latitude and longitude at
certain locations. These “marks on maps”
could be made even more precise with
observations of eclipses or transits (which
could be used to determine a very precise
‘local time’). The charting of the oceans
which occurred during the late 18th
century was another product of astronomy,
aiding navigation and, as a consequence,
the travels of Europeans.
Nevil Maskelyne
Expeditions, too, made important
observations and gathered data which was
physically impossible to obtain without
travel. The prime example of this
phenomenon is the expedition led by Nevil
Maskelyne to observe and measure the
transit of Venus across the face of the sun.
This would allow the measurement of a
quantity which was at the heart of
planetary astronomy: the distance of the
Sun from the Earth. By measuring the
apparent differences in angle which
Mercury made with the Sun at different
locations across the world, a numerical
value could be given to this ‘constant’.
Multiple expeditions were equipped with
instruments and sent to various points on
the globe, to maximise the chances of
obtaining useful data; a vital ploy as the
transit only occurred twice every 113
years.
Maskelyne’s expedition to the island of St.
Helena was not an unqualified success,
due to the cloudy weather which he
experienced, as he recounted to Lord
Macclesfield in a letter to the Royal
Society. However, he did obtain several
measurements of the transit, which he
relayed in his letter, apologising in addition
that he had not made an accurate
measurement of the longitude of the
location from which he made his
observations. In any case, that an
expedition was sent to make this
observation is very interesting. As
Maskelyne stated:
“I cannot conclude, my Lord, without
making one remark, that if the late noble
Dr. Halley were now alive, he could not
receive greater pleasure from seeing the
observation of the transit of Venus
undertaken by astronomers of different
nations, conformably to his proposal, than
from finding it so warmly espoused by your
Lordship, and the Royal Society, to whom,
27
as a perpetual body, whose care it would
always be to watch over the interest and
advancement of science, he particularly
recommended it.”
Treating the practice of expeditionary
observations as an essential component of
astronomy demonstrates how great the
value of navigation was: it allowed a virtual
extension of the eyes of the astronomer in
London or Paris to anywhere on the globe,
in the same way that 18th century
collectors could delegate the task of
collecting specimens to others who had
been trained and thus would be
appropriate witnesses of ‘matters of fact’ in
distant locations.
In the eighteenth century, a complex and
reciprocal relationship emerged between
the practices of astronomy and navigation
which effected changes in the ways both
the world and the heavens were
visualised. Centralised astronomers and
distributed navigators formed a network of
contacts who acted for each others mutual
benefit, controlled by patronage from the
state or natural philosophical societies.
The result of this cooperation was the
establishment of a reliable framework
which the state could use to its
commercial advantage, whilst the new
planetary knowledge benefited the
discipline of astronomy. With reference to
Britain, the navigational advances directly
led to the pattern of conquest and the
subsequent establishment of a global
empire linked by maritime routes and
guaranteed by naval force. In some ways,
then, Maskelyne’s Almanac, not George
Harrison’s marvellous chronometer, was
the basis on which the British Empire was
built.
28
Book Review
Joseph Nevard
Primo Levi - The Periodic Table
(1975, Italian)
Trans. Raymond Rosenthal, 1984
© Penguin 1995
Literature and science have rarely met
happily: the gulf between them seeming as
deep as that between fantasy and fact.
There are of course exceptions. The
essays of Francis Bacon are read for their
literary merit, for example, while Tom
Stoppard and Thomas Pynchon, among
others, have shown a rare ability to
translate scientific theory into drama and
fiction respectively. The problem
presumably lies in the mutual distrust
which exists between the sciences and the
arts combined with the all-consuming
nature of either enterprise. The average
novelist is unlikely to see the relevance of
quantum theory to her explorations of
‘human nature’ while the mathematician is
unlikely to see the point of using mere
words to communicate that which is more
clearly expressed in elegant equations.
Primo Levi is best known as a writer - ‘If
This Is A Man’, his memoir of Auschwitz, is
one of the seminal works of Holocaust
literature - but he was a working chemist
throughout his life. ‘The Periodic Table’ is
a collection of autobiographical fragments
(with a few short fictions) organised
around Mendeleev’s organisation of the
elements. In his words, it is more precisely
“a micro-history…of a trade and its
defeats, victories and miseries”. As a
result his personal life is almost completely
passed over, and even the interruption of
Auschwitz is not given special
prominence. Instead he describes long
hours of painstaking analysis, failed
experiments and occasionally the
solutions to tricky chemical problems. The
book also contains the author’s reflections
on broader concerns and it is thus that is
makes its claim on the realm of literature.
Levi’s structuring conceit, in which each
chapter is named after an element, proves
surprisingly flexible and provides the key
to the text. Chemistry is a metaphor for
life. But Levi is to good a writer to stop
there. Like all great metaphors, this one
can be reversed - life is a metaphor for
chemistry - and ultimately collapses:
chemistry is life / life is chemistry. This is
fully expounded in the last chapter,
29
‘Carbon’, which imaginatively traces the
journey of a carbon atom from limestone
to falcon to wine, etc. This exhilarating tale
reveals the truth that chemists know,
despite all the pontifications of
philosophers: life is simply a question of
this one humble element.
The young Levi regards the Periodic Table
as “poetry” and chemistry as “the missing
link between the world of words and the
world of things”. (Words concern Levi. On
one occasion he pursues etymologies with
the same rigour in which he pursues his
analyses. The analogy is implicit but
clear.) Chapters spin off from the
associations of each particular element to
a more metaphorical level. Some of these
connections are conventional - mercury
naturally leads to alchemy, and lead is the
metal of death - but many are deft and
unexpected. Gold, for example, might be
expected to tell a tale of the evil of avarice
like Chaucer’s ‘Pardoner’s Tale’, but for
Levi it represents the dream of freedom
whilst imprisoned as a partisan. Heavy
uranium, generally carrying the weight of
apocalyptic destruction, here serves as the
catalyst to an airy meditation on self-
delusion.
Chemistry also provides political lessons.
Growing up in Mussolini’s Italy, Levi sees
in his science a riposte to the “stench of
Fascist truths which tainted the sky”. Real
science, “clear and distinct and verifiable
at every step” stands, firm as matter itself,
as the bulwark against Fascism’s pseudo-
science of “unproved affirmations” and
outright lies. A student experiment to
produce zinc sulphate reveals that pure
zinc will not react with sulphuric acid; an
impurity is needed. As a Jew Levi was,
according to the prevailing dogma, just
such an impurity. Yet the impurity is vital
for the reaction, for a change to take
place: “in order for the wheel to be turned,
for life to be lived, impurities are needed”,
and even soil must contain impurities to be
fertile. This moral is, of course, perennial.
As multi-culturalism comes increasingly
under attack it might be worth considering
that chemical reactions are often violent
but without them there is no change, only
the stasis which is death.
Further to this, Levi later speaks of matter
as often manifesting “a cunning intent
upon evil and abstraction, is if it revolted
against the order dear to man”. Thus his
trade teaches him (and us) the folly of
hubris and the necessity of tolerating flaws
and imperfections both in chemical
processes and in human beings. To draw
such a counter-intuitive lesson from the
study of a strictly rational and supposedly
predictable science is typical of Levi’s
wisdom and his ability to compound the
concerns of literature and science. It is not
the depth of his moral and political
observations but his ability to reach this
profundity without neglecting his original
intention “to convey to the layman the
strong and bitter flavour” of his trade which
is his greatest achievement as a writer.
30
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