There is perhaps nothing more old-fashioned and tradition-minded than classical studies, which focus upon the dead languages, fables, and philosophies of bygone civilizations. So what could the classics have to do with cutting-edge science and technology? Quite a lot, according to Werner Heisenberg, who testified that “the sciences cannot but benefit from classical studies.”

In his view, those who wish to get to the root of things in their chosen vocation, whether it be in technology or medicine, are bound sooner or later to encounter the sources of antiquity, and their own work can only benefit if they have learnt from the Greeks how to discipline their thoughts and how to pose questions of principle. I believe that in the work of Max Planck[*], for instance, we can clearly see that his thought was influenced and made fruitful by his classical schooling.

Heisenberg’s role in the development of modern physics would be hard to overstate. He developed a system of quantum mechanics in terms of matrix algebra, winning for this the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics—and is even more famous for establishing Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, which states that it is impossible to know both the momentum and position of a particle simultaneously. Reminiscing about some leisure reading from his student days, Heisenberg went so far as to credit level of his scientific achievement to a youthful encounter with Plato:

With my somewhat modest Greek knowledge, I came upon the [Platonic] dialogue called Timaeus, where for the first time and from the original source I read something about Greek atomic philosophy. This lecture made the basic thoughts of atomic theory much clearer to me than they had been; or at least, I believed that now I had an inkling of the reasons that had in the first place caused Greek philosophy to conceive of these smallest indivisible building-stones of matter […] I was gaining the growing conviction that one could hardly make progress in modern atomic physics without a knowledge of Greek natural philosophy […]

The attentive reader will have noticed that this budding young scientist was not only reading Plato, but in the original. Yet even more important than the scientific creativity it stimulates, “a concern with antiquity gives us a judgment in which spiritual values are prized higher than material ones,” continues Heisenberg, before going on to conclude that an indifference toward the classics is the mark of those who “have no wish to influence the spiritual climate of their age.”

Here Heisenberg’s remarks cast light upon the debate between STEM-centric curricula on the one hand and liberal arts on the other. To be sure, if by “liberal arts” we mean the ideological indoctrination which goes by that name at most secular and even most Catholic universities, then those who favor STEM over “liberal arts” education have a point. It is obviously better to learn something interesting and useful—electrical engineering, say, or botany, or small engine repair—than to unlearn the ability to tell a man from a woman.

If we speak of secondary education, however, STEM specialization seems more than a little premature, and risks alienating the future scientist or engineer from the cultural and religious patrimony of our civilization.  Such alienation has disastrous results not only for the immortal souls of individual scientists and engineers, but for civilization as well. Pretty much the last thing we need right now are more techno-wizards who have never given any serious attention to the study of what it means to be human – i.e., the humanities.

In contrast to the Bill Gateses of the world, Heisenberg was sensitive to the great themes of religion, philosophy, and literature, and so recognized the social and spiritual perils presented by the Scientific Revolution and its “unusually swift diffusion of technology.” For Heisenberg, the crisis of modernity can be boiled down to too much, too quickly. “The speed of technological transformation, in contrast to that of earlier centuries, leaves no time to mankind in which to adjust to the new conditions of life.” With his vivid imagination, Heisenberg drew upon an extended poetic metaphor to characterize the predicament posed by “super” technology:

With the seemingly unlimited expansion of his material might, man finds himself in the position of a captain whose ship has been so securely built of iron and steel that the needle of his compass no longer points to the north, but only toward the ship’s mass of iron. With such a ship no destination can be reached, it will move aimlessly and be subject in addition to winds and ocean currents. But let us remember the state of affairs of modern physics: the danger only  exists so long as the captain is unaware that his compass does not respond to the earth’s magnetic forces.

The moment the situation is recognized, the danger can be considered as half removed. For the captain who does not want to travel in circles but desire to reach a known—or unknown— destination will find ways and means for determining the orientation of his ship […] he may navigate, as in former times, by the stars. Of course we cannot decree the visibility or lack of visibility of the stars, and in our time perhaps they are only rarely visible.

Here the ship’s compass gone haywire may be emblematic of the pervasive narcissism of the media age, as modern man becomes increasingly fixated on his own image, reflected by his marvelous technology, and increasingly oblivious of everything else.

As for Heisenberg’s metaphorical “stars,” they may be representative of a wide variety of things. Some of them may be identified with the artistic and literary classics of the Western canon, from The Odyssey and Nicomachean Ethics and Confessions, to Rodin’s Penseur and Da Vinci’s Last Supper—all of which are “barely visible” nowadays, having become obscured and drowned out by an overwhelming buzz and dazzle of mass-information. If anything the Western canon and classical languages are now important than ever, as man is confronted with appalling powers.

Then again, no mere reading, viewing, or music list can substitute for a wholesome upbringing in a functional, rooted community, so perhaps Heisenberg’s stars are not literary or artistic works, but the perennial truths of human existence which such works are meant to highlight: family, honor, wonder, piety, devotion, and so on. Either way, the dismaying truth is that those wielding authority in post-America are interested neither in navigation, nor even in slowing the engines. Were Heisenberg alive today, he might just advise us all to make for the nearest life-boat.

The Imaginative Conservative applies the principle of appreciation to the discussion of culture and politics—we approach dialogue with magnanimity rather than with mere civility. Will you help us remain a refreshing oasis in the increasingly contentious arena of modern discourse? Please consider donating now.

[*]Another German scientist, the originator of quantum physics and winner of the 1918 Nobel Prize. In its entry about him, the Encyclopedia Britannica notes that Planck received early training in classical philology and music, was a man of tremendous “philosophical and religious conviction,” and in later years “devoted more and more of his writings to philosophical, aesthetic, and religious questions.” On an offbeat historical note, Planck lost a beloved son when the latter was executed by the Gestapo for involvement in the 1944 “Valkyrie” plot to overthrow Hitler.

The featured image is an anonymous painting, “The invention of compass (Polar stone),” created after 1590, and is in the public domain, courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.