Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Galileo, why’d you have to do it?

How heliocentrism radically “rocked the world” as we knew it...

Imagine yourself as living when the Earth was the center of it all. It is a time before telescopes and the preciseness demanded by empirical science. A time when explanation was ruled by theory and philosophy, and when we truly believed in a rising and setting sun. Our senses, after all, confirm a geocentric design – we can see the stars moving about us, and it certainly doesn’t feel as if the Earth is moving. For those who desired more than just senses and observation, we have Ptolemy’s complex system of circles that explain the motion of the planets and stars, while still beautifully keeping us in the middle of everything, and he did so using more than theory, but with the meticulous, objective disciplines of math, physics, and astronomy.

How comforting is it to think that the Resplendent Heavens circle about and surround my planet! What purpose and significance it gives for humanity and my individual existence, too! We see that from that perspective, the movements and changes in the ethos would be scrutinized in a way that is most alien to us. For them, the planets and stars directly concern themselves with humanity, perhaps even they are the forces or gods which impact my life – studying the movements of the cosmos could be of life-or-death significance, showing the favor or displeasure of the Fates. I may see the stars and planets as heavenly bodies, or as mysterious beacons of ethereal light, constant and glorious. Even if I don’t think they have a supernatural power over my life, and it’s all I can do to stare and say, “How I wonder what you are…”, I know that they are there, every night, moving about my planet far away in a celestial sphere. The stars are something permanent and enduring even if I’m cursed to a temporal existence; at least there is something that will last. Maybe they are simply there to be admired, here for no other purpose than to exist and to be something beautiful to look up at; perhaps they are just here for pleasure – humanity’s pleasure and my pleasure. Doesn’t that make me feel important!

Then enters Copernicus to knock the first hole in this view and Galileo with his telescope after him to perfect the heliocentric conjectures, and eureka! Goodbye to the Earth-centered universe. Did the cosmos suddenly become less or more knowable? The inscrutable galaxy can now be explained scientifically rather than philosophically. It is more comforting perhaps for some to have a more rational universe, one not just about superstitions or myths. For others, however, like the hypothetical person we imagined ourselves to be at the outset of this post, it destroyed long-held, comforting assurances, leaving in its wake a more mechanized, huge, impersonal galaxy, one that neither needs nor notices the human race. And so too the deistic view of God was popularized. Now we realize that Earth’s place in the galaxy is rather irrelevant. As we knocked it from its throne in the middle of all, so too demotes the value of the human race; so ends the Ancient and Romantic ages of thoughts, and our infatuatory love affair with ourselves; there is no more “sunny” picture of individual worth. Galileo brought to some a caustic, acerbically sobering explanation for a galaxy that is now vast and dark, and empty and scary. The stars do not “look down upon us”; they do not care in any singular way about humanity, and they certainly are not meant to be wished upon – a truly “stellar” poem with this theme is Robert Frost’s “Choose Something Like a Star.”

Isn’t it a funny coincidence that “geocentrism” can easily be misspelled to get “egocentrism”?

4 comments:

Zach Sherwin said...

Andrea,

An interesting post, and you raise some good points. I would cautiously argue against, however, the implication that Galileo and Copernicus were moved by purely rational, scientific motivations, and were waging war against the . There were hints of neo-platonism in his claims, such as:

"At rest, however, in the middle of everything is the sun. For in this most beautiful temple, who would place this lamp in another or better position than that from which it can light up the whole thing at the same time? For, the sun is not inappropriately called by some people the lantern of the universe, its mind by others, and its ruler by still others. (Hermes) the Thrice Greatest labels it a visible god, and Sophocles’ Electra, the all-seeing. Thus indeed, as though seated on a royal throne, the sun governs the family of planets revolving around it."
Source: De Revolutionibus, Copernicus, Chapter 10; see http://www.webexhibits.org/calendars/year-text-Copernicus.html

As well, Galileo was not exactly out to prove the universe "rationally" as opposed to through "superstitions or myths"; the Church at the time actually encouraged his research, to a degree. The primary anti-Galileans were those associating him to closely with Copernicus (who was certainly somewhat of an occultist) and his scientific opponents, such as Scheiner. See these articles for further information:

http://galileo.rice.edu/sci/scheiner.html

http://tinyurl.com/mn2ese

That being said, your point is apt-- in a purely mathematical universe, where every action is cause by another action, the only reason why we don't know exactly what another will do is chaos (as it is conveyed in "chaos theory"), at least as best as I understand it. Even if the application of chaos theory to the universe is sound, however, does that correlate to what we think, believe, and observe about the practice of free will? What do we do if such teachings do not cohere with our knowledge?

It's an interesting topic; great post!

Anonymous said...

Very nice and insightful post! I have never considered the impact such a drastic change in human thought must have had on those during the time. Hope to see more soon!

DunceScotus said...

The author’s claim that the Copernican Revolution “destroyed long-held, comforting assurances, leaving in its wake a more mechanized, huge, impersonal galaxy, one that either needs nor notices the human race” is subject to a good deal of confusion. It sounds like the author is claiming that, after Copernicus, we have little or no reason to think that humans are anything special. This is an interesting claim, but she has given us no argument for this conclusion. My sense is that evolutionary theory is a lot more damning to high theories of human value than is heliocentric theory, but, imho, even evolutionary theory doesn’t undermine a high value of humans. So, perhaps she means the empirical claim that a lot of people have, in fact, learned a little science and, as a result, abandoned views about the value and significance of human life. This claim seems false to me, but I have no more data on it than the author herself.

What the author fails to recognize is that the earth is an unusually hospitable place for human beings, so far as we know the only genuinely hospitable place for the kind of “advanced” creatures we are. If love is a good thing and reason is a good thing, somehow we seem to have lucked out, and there is nothing “egocentric” in saying so. “Anthropocentric,” perhaps, but that is not an objection.

Is the author’s interpretation of Frost’s “Choose Something Like a Star” any more apt than her dismissal of anthropocentrism? The narrator’s “But it does give us something in the end” in the final stanza might dispose us to think not, alas.

normalman123 said...

It seems like science and our use or reason to understand the universe has in fact profoundly affected the emotions that I have with respect to the universe. But not in this bleak and chaotic way. For me it seems crazy that we are so small in such a vast universe. For us to understand what's actually happening and to see that we are literally alone and SEEMINGLY insignificant puts a very different spin on our philosophies of existence, but I think it is one for the better. While we were egocentric before, now we are humbled by our knowledge that we are not so great as we think we are. I believe that everything we need to know about anything is available to us. Maybe not right now or by me particularly, but I believe firmly that we would not be "figuring things out" if there were not something to figure out. And maybe we're just imagining false things and all these "truths" we seem to find are foolish, but can we not recognize at least our capacity to imagine and find it significant that such life-forms exist with such a quality? It seems to me more that our ability to recognize and experience are of paramount importance when considering why the universe is designed as it is. And--granted--one can think about things trying not to adhere or agree to any paradigms at all, but why not use the knowledge we have to try and get something from it? I'm actually perfectly fine with not using knowledge for anything, but if we're talking about the universe and how we've changed our perspective of reality and ourselves based on our scientific discoveries, then we might as well incorporate whatever other knowledge we have. With my knowledge of the universe and my knowledge of people and existence and whatnot, I have looked up to the stars at night and thought, "Why do we exist? By some fluke? We are such a speck of a moment in an entirely ridiculously long history of the universe and we live on such a ridiculously tiny planet. It would seem we are not needed in this universe. Why does life exist on this planet? Are we actually going to affect the universe in any way? Surely nothing we can do will have any affect on all of THAT. But what's the purpose of any of THAT existing? Is it all just meaningless and is just how things are? A quality of existing? Then why are we a part of this. Do we not at least make claims to experience existence? Perhaps this is our role. To experience existence and maybe even understand it so as to appreciate it. It's hard not to be awed and to appreciate the incredible sheer size and power of outer space at least a little bit. Perhaps the more we seek the truth the more we will come to appreciate existence.