Stephen Gaukroger, The Natural & the Human: Science and the Shaping of Modernity, 1739-1841 (2016)

This is the third in Gaukroger's four-part series on the emergence and transformation of a modern scientific culture. Gaukroger is astonishingly erudite. I only read parts of this book as my aim was to get back into reading for my project on historical methodology. The most interesting point for me was the contrast between Herder and advocates of a "natural history of man" (think Hume, Voltaire, Smith, Ferguson, Buffon, etc.). Both see themselves as pursuing a science of man, both subscribe to the notion of man's development over time. Yet, they work quite differently and will lead to very different schools or approaches. Herder is one of the founders of historicism. He focuses on differences between particular cultures or peoples and sees the study of language as the key to understanding their thought. Advocates of the natural history of man, on the other hand, rely on comparison across time and space as their essential tool. Many of them adhered to stadial theories of human development - hunter, pastoralist, farmer, trader and craftsman - which meant that their topics were on the grandest of scales. This seems to me like a pivotal moment, in which a comparative and, in my eyes, truly scientific approach to history was available, but lost out to historicism. A few decades after Herder, Ranke supplied historicism with an apparently scientific veneer in source criticism. I'll most likely incorporate this into my methodology manuscript. Next up: Frederic Beiser's history of German historicsm.

Stephen Gaukroger, The Collapse of Mechanism and the Rise of Sensibility: Science and the Shaping of Modernity, 1680-1760 (2010)

This is the second volume in Gaukroger's four-volume history of modern science. Gaukroger is extremely erudite, to the point that I often had trouble following. Nonetheless, pride and stubborness kept me going, though I only made it about three-fifths of the way through. The basic tension that Gaukroger follows is that between "matter theory" and micro-corpuscular "mechanism." At times, the two were connected, and each came in several variants. Basically, matter theory explains natural phenomena in terms of the nature (or natures) of matter itself; mechanism explains them in terms of interactions between inert matter. Gaukroger also draws an interesting contrast between a metaphysical tradition of this period launched by Leibniz and an "experimental natural philosophical" one justified by Locke (who looms much larger here than I would have guessed). Gaukroger often goes to the trouble of explaining what terms mean, but they come so fast and furious, and in such intricate connections, that I only occasionally felt I was "getting it." Overall, I was left thinking that my understanding of the scientific revolution is very superficial, indeed.

Bernard Crick, In Defence of Politics (1962)

This is a stimulating meditation on politics, which Crick defines, borrowing from Aristotle, as the "master science." It is this master science because politics, on Crick's definition, means the hard work of conciliating the plural interests in a given society, a balancing act that is the prerequisite for individual freedom and the pursuit of all other worthwhile activities. Early in my reading, I wondered whether the book wasn't merely a defense of pluralism and "open access socities," which I thought had been made earlier (the Federalist Papers, especially nr. 10) and perhaps more persuasively elsewhere (Mill? Hayek? Popper? North?). As I read on, though, I began to think that Crick's argument was something else - namely, not just a defence of pluralism as a necessary evil, but a positive endorsement of the compromises, empathy, fallibilism, etc. necessary for such conciliation. These original elements came out especially when Crick drew contrasts between politics in his sense, on the one hand, and "ideologies" - whether of Communism, democracy, nationalism, technology - on the other. There were some echoes in the book of Max Weber's "Politics as a Vocation."

Adam Becker, More Everything Forever: AI Overlords, Space Empires, and Silicon Valley's Crusade to Control The Fate of Humanity (2025)

This is a good (not great) book. It opened my eyes to the truly vast ambitions of today's tech billionaires. Ambitions here does not refer to wealth or political influence or anything else merely of this world, but something incomparably greater. Key ideas are the Singularity (the imminent time when AI blows past human intelligence, creating a radically different situation); the importance and inevitability of human colonization of space, including eventually the entire universe, perhaps with swarms of nanobots carrying human consciousnesses in silicon form; long-termism (the valuing of all future lives as highly as those now alive), etc. While there is some disagreement among the carriers of these ideas, there's general consensus that the long term human (or human-AI) colonization of the universe is of such great importance that all other problems fall by the wayside. The Singularity will usher in utopia - or perhaps apocalypse. These highly dubious ideas would not matter much, of course, were it not for the fact that their advocates have so much wealth and power. Becker skillfully explains the main ideas and nearly as skillfully he debunks almost all of them. He points to the deep inconsistency between, on the one hand, the tech billionaires' championing of science and, on the other, their refusal to face basic facts. He also offers a plausible account of some of the origins of, and motivations behind, these ideas: ultimately, they are rooted in Christian hopes to escape death and reach some kind of heaven, now conjoined to technological salvationism. Disseminating and funding these beliefs, especially the philosophy of effective altruism, gives the tech billionaires a patina of intellectual and even moral respectability. Their insistence on the overriding importance of the Singularity and "aligning" AI's interests with humanity's allows them to sidestep all other contemporary problems as trivial. I sometimes wished Becker had dug more deeply into certain topics. He tends to rely on interviews for his evidence. When it comes to precursors to this generation of science-obsessed utopianists, Becker never considers Condorcet and mentions Frederick Winslow Taylor only once in passing. Sometimes Becker assigns guilt by association, however tenuous. For example, the fact that these people talk of "colonizing" the universe associates them with European colonists (the only kind, apparently) and hence with racism. Capitalism, racism, and white men are sometimes tossed in, casually, as stock villains. In the end, though, these minor gripes don't detract too seriously from Becker's timely, valuable work.

Michael Riordan and Lillian Hoddeson, Crystal Fire: The Invention of the Transistor and the Birth of the Information Age (1997)

This is a technically informed, empirically minded, and engaging account of an epoch-making invention (arguably one of the two or three most important inventions of the 20th century, other candidates being nuclear technology and antibiotics). Riordan and Hoddeson spend the bulk of their book on the technical aspects of work on the transistor, and they do this well, though after a point I had trouble following (for example, the apparently important difference between point contact and junction transistors). Along the way, they also pen deft portraits of the key figures and key organizations, above all, the incomparable mid-century Bell Labs. In terms of the technical aspects, both theoretical work (much of it coming from Europe) in quantum mechanics, in particular the behavior of electrons, and practical work, in obtaining purified forms of germanium and silicon and manipulating the flow of electrons, were crucial. Serendipity played a more frequent role than I would have imagined. Some of my take-aways and reflections include the following: 1) until reading this book, I hadn't fully understood that the key function of vacuum tubes and of transistors was to boost signals (even after reading the book, I didn't quite grasp how either of them did this). 2) nor did I understand that both of these technologies were developed with the transmission of telephone calls in mind (the primary business of ATT, Bell Labs' sponsor, after all). Their use in computers was, initially, a byproduct. For this reason, the full magnitude of the transistor revolution only dawned on people, including its inventors, a couple of decades after its invention in 1947. 3) the book did an excellent job illustrating the role of both collaboration and competition in scientific progress. 4) I was reminded of Robert Gordon's important book The Rise and Decline of American Growth. Gordon emphasizes the years 1920 to 1950 as a period of unprecedented and since unmatched growth in productivity. I don't think he explains exactly why that was the case (though come to think of it, he may attribute the surge in productivity to a more fully worked out application of electric power). I'm pretty sure he doesn't discuss the development of the transistor. Of course, while the transistor was invented at the tail end of this period, it only came into widespread use in the 1950s and 1960s. Its proliferation has coincided not with the increase, or even just maintenance, of productivity growth, but with its slowing down. Of course, it has changed entertainment, culture, news, politics, and much more quite dramatically. So a bit of a conundrum there. 5) this is not an original point, but this book, in conjunction with Gordon's, has led me to think of the transistor as a third "general purpose technology" of the last 200 years, alongside the steam engine and electricity.

Leon Botstein, Jefferson's Children: Education and the Promise of American Culture (1997)

This book launched the network (Bard High School Early Colleges) in which I now teach. Frankly, I had mixed reactions to it. The book is wider ranging than I expected - while Botstein makes arguments that lend themselves to our "early college" model, they are not the focus of the book (which, truth be told, meanders somewhat, though often in interesting directions). In short, I was surprised that this book inspired Michael Bloomberg's chancellor of education to reach out to Botstein and propose a collaboration, which led to the founding of BHSEC Manhattan in 2001. The early parts of the book I found less persuasive. Botstein begins by focusing on - and lamenting - the pervasive pessimism he sees around him, which is a surprising commentary on the go-go '90s. If one were being charitable, one might say it's testimony to Botstein's independence of mind. However, he himself provides plenty of evidence - including the stagnation of middle-class wages since the 1970s - that would seem to make pessimism appear quite warranted. Also unconvincing was his main rationale for having students start college earlier - he rests his case on the earlier physical maturation of adolescents today compared to 50 or 100 years ago (for example, the onset of first menstruation is now more than a year earlier). Botstein never even attempts to show that this physical precocity has been matched by intellectual acceleration. The recent work of Jean Twenge on the "safetyism" of Generation Z (Generations) makes the opposite seem more likely - 16-year-olds today, for example, behave much like 13-year-olds of thirty years ago. In the second half of the book I began to warm to my Founding Father. As unachievable as it may be, his desire to inculcate a passion for learning resonated with me. He cites Mihaly Csikszentmihaly's "flow state" - the intense, edge-of-one's-capabilities engagement of the master musician or craftsman - as what we as teachers should aim to inspire and facilitate in our students. Botstein makes appealing suggestions about how to encourage a sense of wonder, curiosity, and intellectual modesty - all attitudes that I hold dear. So by the end of the book, I found myself engaged by Botstein's outlook and stance toward life, if not fully persuaded by his rationale for early college.

David Reich, Who We Are and How We Got Here: Ancient DNA and the New Science of the Human Past (2018)

This is a fascinating look at the new science of ancient DNA by one of the field's pioneers. In the 1980s the female mitochondrial and male Y chromosomes were first sequenced, followed in 2001 by the entire genome. 2010 was the breakthrough year for ancient DNA when Svante Paabo and colleagues at the Max Planck Institute in Leipzig first sequenced ancient Neanderthal DNA. Five years later, Reich's lab at Harvard built on Paabo's work to "industrialize" the sequencing of ancient DNA: by now thousands of ancient individuals' DNA going back more than 50,000 years and including "modern humans," Neanderthals, and species newly discovered by these techniques, including Denisovans and Homo Floriensis ("Hobbits"), have been analyzed. Interestingly, Reich says that the sequencing of the whole genome has not yet shed much light on the genetic sources of behavior. Given the fact that usually dozens of genes contribute to individual behaviors, Reich admits, it may never do so. However, whole genome sequencing, including of ancient individuals, has made a major, indeed revolutionary, contribution to the understanding of the deep human past. Reich thinks this revolution is so fundamental that is best grasped not by comparison with the dedoding of DNA by Crick and Watson in 1953; rather, it's more like the invention of the microscope in the seventeenth century: a whole new world is coming into view, much of it at odds with previously held theories. The mixing of modern humans and Neanderthals turns out to be much more complex than previously thought. Several "ghost populations" - no longer extant but the source of some contemporary populations - can be identified. A much more detailed, and radically new, picture of the peopling of Europe, India, the Americas, and East Asia has become possible. For example, ancient DNA has settled the debate about the origin of the earliest Indo-Europeans - they came from the Pontic steppe, not Anatolia. As they spread to the west, they merged with neolithic farming population, who in turn had merged with indigenous hunter-gatherers. The precise contribution of these three source-populations to contemporary Europeans can be measured. Something similar happened in India, where Reich's techniques have allowed him to identify the emergence of numerous endogamous populations - castes - starting around 2,000 years ago. Four distinct waves settled the Americas, one of which, however, remains hard to pin down. As Reich repeatedly acknowleged, ancient DNA is a rapidly developing field. Many of the results he included in his 2018 book will now have been modified, overturned, or superceded.

Eric Kandel, In Search of Memory: The Emergence of a New Science of Mind (2006)

Kandel won the 2000 Nobel prize in physiology for his pioneering work on the neurobiology of memory. In this fascinating scientific autobiography, Kandel takes us from his early years in 1930s Vienna to his Nobel prize and beyond. Kandel explains the cellular and molecular science very lucidly, so that this layman only felt he got lost in the details a few times. Kandel's big contribution was to prove that short-term memory depends on chemical changes - increasing the flow of neurotransmitters at the synpapses between neurons - while long-term memory depends on structural changes - adding dendritic connections between neurons. The three key conditions Kandel examines here, inspired by early behaviorists such as Pavlov, are habituation, sensitization, and classical conditioning (all of which he, as usual, explains very clearly). In his 60s and 70s Kandel turned from this foundational work on implicit memory to the more complex topic of explicit memory, which depends on attention and, Kandel suggests, spatial awareness. Kandel also reflects on the skills, choices, collaborations, and serendipity that propelled him to the heights of the scientific world. Through his college years (at Harvard), Kandel was focused on historical questions, writing an honors thesis on different intellectuals' accounts of the Nazi menace that had chased Kandel's family from Europe. A college romance with the daughter of prominent Austrian-Jewish psychoanalysts piqued his interest in the mind and a possible career in psychiatry. However, early on this new path, under the influence of a different mentor, Kandel made a pivotal decision. Trying to pinpoint the biological substrates of the id, ego, and superego, as Kandel hoped to do, was too grandiose; instead, he should focus on the individual neuron. This "radical reductionism," as Kandel calls it, served him very well indeed! Beyond the science of memory and his account of his career, Kandel includes glimpses of him as a person: his lifelong interest in high culture and Bildung, his love-hate relationship with Vienna, which led him in later years, when he was raised to great prominence by his accomplishments, to pressure Austrian politicians and institutions finally to reckon with their country's past.