Pleasure in Anachronism

Gross, A. G., Harmon, J. E., & Reidy, M. (2002). Style and presentation in the 17th century. (p. 31-47). Communicating Science. Oxford: University Press.


This text is actually a bit of a dry read; it is a lot of hard-core textual analysis.  However, there are some moments of note.

If you read my post on Boyle, this is the century in which his writing style predominates.  At this time, there are two main scientific institutions: the Royal Society (England) and the Academie Royale (France).  As such, there are only two major scientific publication outlets at this time.

Science, as we recognize it today, is in its infancy.  How infant:, you ask? Let's just say that botany is a "new" science.  Science does not have the force of ethos it does today.  No one was walking around talking about "science says" or "scientists have found."  In England, this is the hobby of well-off gentlemen, although France is a little more civil-servant oriented.

Communication of science therefore is also in its infancy.  Like we saw with Boyle, detail is very important.  Scientific writing is more reliable testimony than creation of new knowledge.  Thus, the exposition is in qualitative style and personal, readily understood by others.  There is no specialized, technical language at this point; it doesn't exist.

While the writing is personal and verbose, while containing meager data, the tone however is neutral and lacks stylistic turns of phrase.  In fact, metaphors and similes are discouraged.  When used, they are functional, not poetic.

I have a little challenge for myself as I walk through these centuries.  I am going to take a paragraph from one of my studies and try to re-write it in the style of each century.  Please bear with my silliness and certainly don't take my paragraph as a wonderful example of x-century writing!  As writing is "thinking on paper," let's just say that I'd like to try my hand at thinking like these early scientists.


"I walked out from the driest part of the land, toward the waters of the bay, connected at one end to the river and at the other to the ocean, whereupon the land began to become muddied and a great stink as of rotting eggs rose from the ground, until at last water, unconnected to the inlets of the bay, collected in pools of various size among the marsh grasses.  The largest of these was the size of a farmer's pond, though not as deep, being as on a windless day, where waves did not muddy the waters, the spectators, as well as myself, could see the muddy bottom, marked with the tracks of waterfowl and the holes of various crabs and other burrowing animals.  After extensive rains in the spring, these pools were nearer to fresh water than salt, lacking the briny taste of the bay itself; indeed, many land animals made use of these pools, as feral swine were seen drinking from them without harm; likewise, upon entry into the pools, I often came within a pace or less, of river snakes bathing themselves in the spring heat, and upon one occasion, the spectators and myself observed an alligator, which normally resided in fresh lakes farther inland, swimming healthily in the nearby salt creek of the inlet, made fresh and swollen by the same spring rains."

Portion of Alsted, 1630. Image(s) courtesy History of Science Collections, University of Oklahoma Libraries.

Alsted, 1630. Image(s) courtesy History of Science Collections, University of Oklahoma Libraries.

 

 

 

 

 

Theory and Philosophy: Taking a Breather

Fortunately for my sanity, I have a wonderful blog-mentor and hero, Dragonfly Woman.  My entire semester so far (all three or four weeks of it) has been laden with theory and philosophy from the social sciences.  It is definitely a great learning experience and opportunity to stretch my brain, but every so often I need to come up for air!

Hence my maniac giggling as I write this post.  You see, Dragonfly Woman researches giant water bugs and she recently wrote an incredibly beautiful piece on their respiratory behaviors.  Respiratory behaviors...taking a breather...up for air...*snort*

All bad puns aside, DW's post is an excellent example of how scientists can include their creativity and humanity into a "scientific article" without losing credibility.

Once I get done reading Communicating Science by Gross, Harmon, and Reidy, I'll let you know into which century her blog style best fits.  I'm actually considering trying to write a paragraph from one of my own studies into the style of each century, just for the immersion experience.  I'll let you know how that goes...

Bringing it to a Boyle: Virtual Witnesses to Matters of Fact

Shapin, S. (2010). "Pump and circumstance: Robert Boyle's literary technology." Never Pure: Historical studies of science as if it was produced by people with bodies, situated in time, space, culture, and society, and struggling for credibility and authority. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, p. 89-116.

Recently, I have been thinking about social construction of knowledge.  Shapin's discourse on Boyle underscores this reality.  Before "scientists" came "experimental philosophers" who took on the task of what we take for granted today: creating ethos for "matters of fact."  These matters of fact are the measurements and data that we modern scientists collect as evidence.

Whereas we report our findings as concisely as possible (and in some cases stash a brief methodology at the end), Boyle had to write in great detail to create "virtual witnesses."  His manuscripts were conducted to create the effect that the reader had been there and seen what happened at each step of the way, including mistakes and failures.

Thus, these matters of fact were not dependent on Boyle's word alone, reported through the text, but by consensus of the public community who could, in essence, observe the proceedings vicariously.

Considering Hoffmann's arguments, it is perhaps to a Boyle-style article that he wishes to return.  This would certainly make for a more open scientific community, as Shapiro notes that the modern scientific community is a subculture in which one can participate only after they have mastered the specialized language and form of communication practiced by scientists.

Despite the evolution of the modern article however, there are some Boyle-style elements that have been retained.  Boyle was extremely careful to separate matters of fact and conjecture/theory both through language and layout.  This continues today with the separation of the results (matters of fact) and the discussion (theory/explanation); however, I believe that the onus now lies more on the reader to separate the ideas, as the language we use has become more confident and direct.

The peer-review system is reminiscent of the credible witnesses that actually observed the conduction of the experiment.  We have moved away from the original intent of the budding "scientific community" however, in that our version of "public space" has been reduced to those that practice science and can afford access to scientific journals.  Much of the science that the broader public receives is passed through the oracles of media.

I will leave off with what I think is an interesting juxtaposition of two quotes from Shapin.  The first is on Boyle's principles of offering detailed circumstantial accounts, and the second is quoted from Ludwik Fleck.

"It was also necessary, in Boyle's view, to offer readers circumstantial accounts of failed experiments.  This performed two functions: first is allayed anxieties in those neophyte experimentalists whose expectations of success were not immediately fulfilled...." (p.100)

"Ludwick Fleck noted.... 'The optimum system of a science, the ultimate organization of its principles, is completely incomprehensible to the novice'" (p.115)

Has science gone wrong in the method of reporting its practices?  In Boyle's time, experimental philosophers were largely self-funded and publication, while affecting reputation, perhaps did not affect employment.  Has the switch to external funding and page charges in journals led to the conversion to brief reports of  success alone?