7. February
20
I happened to walk into a basement
workshop in the physics building at Cornell University. There I saw two students, dressed in the customary
style, with bare feet and long unkempt hair. They were working with intense concentration,
building a cryostat, a superrefrigerator for low-temperature
experiments using liquid helium. This was not an ordinary
helium cryostat that would take you down to one degree above
absolute zero. This
was a new type of cryostat, working with the rare isotope
of helium, that would take you down to a few millidegrees
above absolute zero. The
students were exploring a new world and a new technology.
. . . Their brains and hands were stretched to the limit.
. . . At the time when I saw them as students putting the
apparatus together, they were not dreaming of Nobel prizes. They were driven by the sam passion that drove my grandfather [the
boilermaker], the joy of a skilled craftsman in a job well
done. Science gave them their chance to build things
that opened new horizons, just as their ancestors built ships
to explore new continent.
They had found a creative middle way, between the hierarchical
world of big business and the utopian dreams of student rebellion.
-- Freeman Dyson, The Sun, the Genome, and the Internet
Po Bronson, The First Twenty Million is Always the Hardest,
pp 1-150.
February 22
People surmount tragedy when they
use themselves up fully, when they use what they have and
what they are, whatever they are and wherever they find themselves,
even if this requires them to ignore cultural prescription
or to behave in innovating ways undefined by their roles.
The tragic sense does not derive from feeling that
people must always be less than history and culture demand;
it derives, rather, from the sense that they have been less
than they could have been, that they have needlessly betrayed
themselves, needlessly forgone fulfillments that would have
injured no one. The scientific enterprise, like others, becomes edged with a tragic
sense when scientists suspect that they have wasted their
lives. In confining work to the requirements of a
demanding and unfulfillable paradigm, scientists are not using
themselves up in their work and are, indeed, sacrificing,
leaving unexpressed, certain parts of themselves -- their
playful impulses, their unverified hunches, their speculative
imagination. When
scientists commit themselves compulsively to a life-wasting
high science model, they are making a metaphysical wager.
They are wagering that the sacrifice is ‘best for science.’
Whether this is really so, they cannot confirm; but they often
need no further confirmation than the pain this self-confinement
inflicts upon them.
-- Alvin Gouldner, The Coming Crisis in Sociology
Assignments:
Po
Bronson, The First Twenty Million is Always the Hardest,
pp 151-291.



