The Foundations of Science: Science and Hypothesis, The...

Meaning of Physical Theories.—The laity are struck to see how ephemeral scientific theories are. After some years of prosperity, they see them successively abandoned; they see ruins accumulate upon ruins; they foresee that the theories fashionable to-day will shortly succumb in their turn and hence they conclude that these are absolutely idle. This is what they call the bankruptcy of science.

No theory seemed more solid than that of Fresnel which attributed light to motions of the ether. Yet now Maxwell's is preferred. Does this mean the work of Fresnel was in vain? No, because the aim of Fresnel was not to find out whether there is really an ether, whether it is or is not formed of atoms, whether these atoms really move in this or that sense; his object was to foresee optical phenomena.

And let no one say that thus we reduce physical theories to the rôle of mere practical recipes; these equations express relations, and if the equations remain true it is because these relations preserve their reality. They teach us, now as then, that there is such and such a relation between some thing and some other thing; only this something formerly we called motion; we now call it electric current. But these appellations were only images substituted for the real objects which nature will eternally hide from us. The true relations between these real objects are the only reality we can attain to, and the only condition is that the same relations exist between these objects as between the images by which we are forced to replace them. If these relations are known to us, what matter if we deem it convenient to replace one image by another.

That some periodic phenomenon (an electric oscillation, for instance) is really due to the vibration of some atom which, acting like a pendulum, really moves in this or that sense, is neither certain nor interesting. But that between electric oscillation, the motion of the pendulum and all periodic phenomena there exists a close relationship which corresponds to a profound reality; that this relationship, this similitude, or rather this parallelism extends into details; that it is a consequence of more general principles, that of energy and that of least action; this is what we can affirm; this is the truth which will always remain the same under all the costumes in which we may deem it useful to deck it out.

Numerous theories of dispersion have been proposed; the first was imperfect and contained only a small part of truth. Afterwards came that of Helmholtz; then it was modified in various ways, and its author himself imagined another founded on the principles of Maxwell. But, what is remarkable, all the scientists who came after Helmholtz reached the same equations, starting from points of departure in appearance very widely separated. I will venture to say these theories are all true at the same time, not only because they make us foresee the same phenomena, but because they put in evidence a true relation, that of absorption and anomalous dispersion. What is true in the premises of these theories is what is common to all the authors; this is the affirmation of this or that relation between certain things which some call by one name, others by another.

The kinetic theory of gases has given rise to many objections, which we could hardly answer if we pretended to see in it the absolute truth. But all these objections will not preclude its having been useful, and particularly so in revealing to us a relation true and but for it profoundly hidden, that of the gaseous pressure and the osmotic pressure. In this sense, then, it may be said to be true.

When a physicist finds a contradiction between two theories equally dear to him, he sometimes says: "We will not bother about that, but hold firmly the two ends of the chain, though the intermediate links are hidden from us." This argument of an embarrassed theologian would be ridiculous if it were necessary to attribute to physical theories the sense the laity give them. In case of contradiction, one of them at least must then be regarded as false. It is no longer the same if in them be sought only what should be sought. May be they both express true relations and the contradiction is only in the images wherewith we have clothed the reality.

Some philosopher pretends that all physics may be explained by the mutual impacts of atoms. If he merely means there are between physical phenomena the same relations as between the mutual impacts of a great number of balls, well and good, that is verifiable, that is perhaps true. But he means something more; and we think we understand it because we think we know what impact is in itself; why? Simply because we have often seen games of billiards. Shall we think God, contemplating his work, feels the same sensations as we in watching a billiard match? If we do not wish to give this bizarre sense to his assertion, if neither do we wish the restricted sense I have just explained, which is good sense, then it has none.

Hypotheses of this sort have therefore only a metaphorical sense. The scientist should no more interdict them than the poet does metaphors; but he ought to know what they are worth. They may be useful to give a certain satisfaction to the mind, and they will not be injurious provided they are only indifferent hypotheses.

These considerations explain to us why certain theories, supposed to be abandoned and finally condemned by experiment, suddenly arise from their ashes and recommence a new life. It is because they expressed true relations; and because they had not ceased to do so when, for one reason or another, we felt it necessary to enunciate the same relations in another language. So they retained a sort of latent life.

Scarcely fifteen years ago was there anything more ridiculous, more naïvely antiquated, than Coulomb's fluids? And yet here they are reappearing under the name of electrons. Wherein do these permanently electrified molecules differ from Coulomb's electric molecules? It is true that in the electrons the electricity is supported by a little, a very little matter; in other words, they have a mass (and yet this is now contested); but Coulomb did not deny mass to his fluids, or, if he did, it was only with reluctance. It would be rash to affirm that the belief in electrons will not again suffer eclipse; it was none the less curious to note this unexpected resurrection.

But the most striking example is Carnot's principle. Carnot set it up starting from false hypotheses; when it was seen that heat is not indestructible, but may be transformed into work, his ideas were completely abandoned; afterwards Clausius returned to them and made them finally triumph. Carnot's theory, under its primitive form, expressed, aside from true relations, other inexact relations, débris of antiquated ideas; but the presence of these latter did not change the reality of the others. Clausius had only to discard them as one lops off dead branches.

The result was the second fundamental law of thermodynamics. There were always the same relations; though these relations no longer subsisted, at least in appearance, between the same objects. This was enough for the principle to retain its value. And even the reasonings of Carnot have not perished because of that; they were applied to a material tainted with error; but their form (that is to say, the essential) remained correct.

However, from their very generality a consequence results to which I have called attention in Chapter VIII, namely, that they can no longer be verified. As we can not give a general definition of energy, the principle of the conservation of energy signifies simply that there is something which remains constant. Well, whatever be the new notions that future experiments shall give us about the world, we are sure in advance that there will be something there which will remain constant and which may be called energy.

Is this to say that the principle has no meaning and vanishes in a tautology? Not at all; it signifies that the different things to which we give the name of energy are connected by a true kinship; it affirms a real relation between them. But then if this principle has a meaning, it may be false; it may be that we have not the right to extend indefinitely its applications, and yet it is certain beforehand to be verified in the strict acceptation of the term; how then shall we know when it shall have attained all the extension which can legitimately be given it? Just simply when it shall cease to be useful to us, that is, to make us correctly foresee new phenomena. We shall be sure in such a case that the relation affirmed is no longer real; for otherwise it would be fruitful; experiment, without directly contradicting a new extension of the principle, will yet have condemned it.

Physics and Mechanism.—Most theorists have a constant predilection for explanations borrowed from mechanics or dynamics. Some would be satisfied if they could explain all phenomena by motions of molecules attracting each other according to certain laws. Others are more exacting; they would suppress attractions at a distance; their molecules should follow rectilinear paths from which they could be made to deviate only by impacts. Others again, like Hertz, suppress forces also, but suppose their molecules subjected to geometric attachments analogous, for instance, to those of our linkages; they try thus to reduce dynamics to a sort of kinematics.

We shall examine this question in Chapter XII, à propos of Maxwell's theory. Whenever the principles of energy and of least action are satisfied, we shall see not only that there is always one possible mechanical explanation, but that there is always an infinity of them. Thanks to a well-known theorem of König's on linkages, it could be shown that we can, in an infinity of ways, explain everything by attachments after the manner of Hertz, or also by central forces. Without doubt it could be demonstrated just as easily that everything can always be explained by simple impacts.

For that, of course, we need not be content with ordinary matter, with that which falls under our senses and whose motions we observe directly. Either we shall suppose that this common matter is formed of atoms whose internal motions elude us, the displacement of the totality alone remaining accessible to our senses. Or else we shall imagine some one of those subtile fluids which under the name of ether or under other names, have at all times played so great a rôle in physical theories.

Often one goes further and regards the ether as the sole primitive matter or even as the only true matter. The more moderate consider common matter as condensed ether, which is nothing startling; but others reduce still further its importance and see in it nothing more than the geometric locus of the ether's singularities. For instance, what we call matter is for Lord Kelvin only the locus of points where the ether is animated by vortex motions; for Riemann, it was the locus of points where ether is constantly destroyed; for other more recent authors, Wiechert or Larmor, it is the locus of points where the ether undergoes a sort of torsion of a very particular nature. If the attempt is made to occupy one of these points of view, I ask myself by what right shall we extend to the ether, under pretext that this is the true matter, mechanical properties observed in ordinary matter, which is only false matter.

The ancient fluids, caloric, electricity, etc., were abandoned when it was perceived that heat is not indestructible. But they were abandoned for another reason also. In materializing them, their individuality was, so to speak, emphasized, a sort of abyss was opened between them. This had to be filled up on the coming of a more vivid feeling of the unity of nature, and the perception of the intimate relations which bind together all its parts. Not only did the old physicists, in multiplying fluids, create entities unnecessarily, but they broke real ties.

And does our ether really exist? We know the origin of our belief in the ether. If light reaches us from a distant star, during several years it was no longer on the star and not yet on the earth; it must then be somewhere and sustained, so to speak, by some material support.

The same idea may be expressed under a more mathematical and more abstract form. What we ascertain are the changes undergone by material molecules; we see, for instance, that our photographic plate feels the consequences of phenomena of which the incandescent mass of the star was the theater several years before. Now, in ordinary mechanics the state of the system studied depends only on its state at an instant immediately anterior; therefore the system satisfies differential equations. On the contrary, if we should not believe in the ether, the state of the material universe would depend not only on the state immediately preceding, but on states much older; the system would satisfy equations of finite differences. It is to escape this derogation of the general laws of mechanics that we have invented the ether.

That would still only oblige us to fill up, with the ether, the interplanetary void, but not to make it penetrate the bosom of the material media themselves. Fizeau's experiment goes further. By the interference of rays which have traversed air or water in motion, it seems to show us two different media interpenetrating and yet changing place one with regard to the other.

Yet experiments may be conceived which would make us touch it still more nearly. Suppose Newton's principle, of the equality of action and reaction, no longer true if applied to matter alone, and that we have established it. The geometric sum of all the forces applied to all the material molecules would no longer be null. It would be necessary then, if we did not wish to change all mechanics, to introduce the ether, in order that this action which matter appeared to experience should be counterbalanced by the reaction of matter on something.

Or again, suppose we discover that optical and electrical phenomena are influenced by the motion of the earth. We should be led to conclude that these phenomena might reveal to us not only the relative motions of material bodies, but what would seem to be their absolute motions. Again, an ether would be necessary, that these so-called absolute motions should not be their displacements with regard to a void space, but their displacements with regard to something concrete.

For instance, if the theory of Lorentz, of which I shall speak in detail further on in Chapter XIII., were true, Newton's principle would not apply to matter alone, and the difference would not be very far from being accessible to experiment.

On the other hand, many researches have been made on the influence of the earth's motion. The results have always been negative. But these experiments were undertaken because the outcome was not sure in advance, and, indeed, according to the ruling theories, the compensation would be only approximate, and one might expect to see precise methods give positive results.

And now I must be permitted a digression; I must explain, in fact, why I do not believe, despite Lorentz, that more precise observations can ever put in evidence anything else than the relative displacements of material bodies. Experiments have been made which should have disclosed the terms of the first order; the results have been negative; could that be by chance? No one has assumed that; a general explanation has been sought, and Lorentz has found it; he has shown that the terms of the first order must destroy each other, but not those of the second. Then more precise experiments were made; they also were negative; neither could this be the effect of chance; an explanation was necessary; it was found; they always are found; of hypotheses there is never lack.

But this is not enough; who does not feel that this is still to leave to chance too great a rôle? Would not that also be a chance, this singular coincidence which brought it about that a certain circumstance should come just in the nick of time to destroy the terms of the first order, and that another circumstance, wholly different, but just as opportune, should take upon itself to destroy those of the second order? No, it is necessary to find an explanation the same for the one as for the other, and then everything leads us to think that this explanation will hold good equally well for the terms of higher order, and that the mutual destruction of these terms will be rigorous and absolute.