GALILEO VERSUS GALILEO
p In arguments centering upon the problem of science and morality one can hardly bypass art in silence, for art has the capacity to satisfy man’s need to know not only the laws, principles, norms and rules deduced and formulated by science, but also the entire abundance and variety of the practical manifestations of these laws, principles, norms and rules. Delving in that which Gorky considered the most interesting in human existence—the motivations underlying the moral behaviour of the individual, art is the source of moral lessons which—by the depth and power of their influence—could be the envy of the most talented moralist.
p Let us take for example Bertolt Brecht’s play Leben des Galilei (Galileo), in which the question of the moral responsibility of the scientist is posed with the cutting edge of polemic. Leben des Galilei can only conventionally be called a historical drama. In substance it is a philosophical drama.
p Aristotle made the observation in his Poetics that the historian and the poet differ not merely in the fact that the one speaks in verse and the other in prose. You could in principle rewrite Herodotus in verse, yet it would still be history, only now in metric form. The difference lies in the fact that the historian narrates ex post factum while the poet tells of the "quality of events past’. As a result, according to Aristotle we find more that is philosophical and of use-value in poetry than in history, for the former is more universal, the latter—- particular.
p We cannot agree with such evaluation of history as science. It is not difficult to understand, however, why Aristotle evaluated it just so. After all, in the time of Herodotus and Plutarch 222 history as a science concerned with conformities and laws had not evolved as of yet. As a rule it limited itself to the “biography” of facts, events, personalities. As far as art is concerned Aristotle was quite right to speak of the "quality of events past" as the primary concern and end of the artist. By the term “general” in art he implied the depiction of that which this or that individual must—in terms or probability or necessity—say or do. In this sense Leben des Galilei is not an historical drama.
p Anyone familiar with the biography of Galileo will note a multitude of inconsistencies between Brecht’s play and the actual events and facts surrounding the protagonist’s life. The dramatist was extremely free in his rendering of the life of Galilei but the precise moral significance of his life was grasped and transmitted. Central to the play is precisely that which the individual (in this case, Galileo Galilei) must—in terms of probability or necessity—say or do. Completely shorn of that which Engels bitingly called "petty philosophising" and of grubbing in the domestic trivialities of the life of an historical personality, the play elevates the historical fact to the level, of philosophical generalization and, in the same act, of contemporary resonance.
p As distinct from science which is concerned with the laws of historical events, of clashes and situations, art places its accent upon the discovery of their personal impact, comprehended from the viewpoint of the interests of modern man. For art Hamlet’s phrase "to be or not to be" is not only a familiar question, but also the expression of its specific approach to human problems. In this context art is profoundly alien to both “museum” depiction and to the forced “modernization” or "contemporary rendering" of the events of long ago. Turning to the past it sees its civic goal in evoking in its contemporary reflections on oneself and on one’s time while remaining faithful to the truth of history. In point of fact it would be naive to assume that even the viewer possessing the diligence of the first-rate student will hurry to a performance of Shakespeare’s Chronicles or Hamlet only to "verify and broaden" his insight into history. Being a social animal the man in the audience is interested not only in how people lived in the Kingdom of Denmark but rather primarily in how the Prince of Denmark pertains to him and to his times. Quite the same may be said of Brecht’s Galileo.
p This play has no direct relationship to contemporary events. It does however incorporate the timely problem of the moral responsibility of the scientist, a problem which is perceived by 223 the viewer and reader of our time in the light of their own experience in society.
p Art is capable of either awakening or smothering the civic conscience of the audience. It all depends upon the relations which arise between a work of art and the audience. Brecht’s attitude to his audience is always one of polemic and conflict. He saturates the moral content of his plays with ideas and thoughts which are politically germane and are addressed to each and every of his viewers. Therefore he is not satisfied with simple agreement or disagreement with events upon the stage on the part of this viewer. What is important is to provoke conflict in the consciousness and soul of everyone seated in the theatre, to force each into an inner polemic with his own conscience.
p Here as well, of course, much depends upon the nature of the virtues possessed by the theatre-goer himself.
p In speaking of the French theatre and painting during the period of the bourgeois revolution (of 1789-1793) an outstanding Russian Marxist G. V. Plekhanov observed that inasmuch as the virtue of the French citizen of that time was primarily a political virtue, to that extent his art was predominantly political an. “Don’t take fright, dear reader,” wrote G. V. Plekhanov, "this means that the citizen of that time, that is the citizen worthy of that appellation, was indifferent or almost indifferent to those works of art at the heart of which he could not find a political idea cherished by him.” [223•1
p In Leben des Galilei there is such an idea “cherished” by the playwright and the contemporary viewer, an idea which is richer than the concrete content of the play.
p Does progress in science depend upon the moral stature of its contributors? Is there a connection, and if so, what is it, between intellectual accomplishments and the moral positions and profile of the scientist? In an age in which scientific and technological achievements penetrate every pore of human existence and simultaneously bring about the highest good and the highest evil, when the triumphs of scientific thought as never before are emerging as a factor in the political struggle and when ethical relativism has sunk deep roots in the consciousness of certain scientists, these questions have become very pressing.
p Progressive scientists have always emphasised the moral significance of science for the development of society. In the 224 foreword to the book, Science et morale, by Marcelin Berthelot, a French chemist and one of the founders of the synthesis of organic substances, K. A. Timiryazev wrote: "Science, marked by an unceasing thrust into the future has enriched mankind both materially and morally since when all is said and done progress in any given direction goes hand in hand with the growth of knowledge, not to mention the fact that moral progress often finds itself in direct dependence upon material progress.” [224•1 Timiryazev regards .science as a tool for putting ethics into effect m life, at that, not a passive contemplative morality which makes peace with existing evil, but an active morality which "endeavours to apply itself to the matter at hand and sets as its task the amelioration of injustice, evil, and suffering". [224•2
p Berthelot also falls into an extreme position in his assessment of the moral force of science. He considers it the sole force capable of "providing a foundation for individual human dignity and of creating future societies”. The entire pathos of his book consists of a disarming faith in the fact that the universal triumph of science will assure man of "the maximum of happiness and morality". [224•3 A half century later another outstanding scientist and the contemporary of the Hiroshima and Oswiecim (Auschwitz) tragedies, Albert Einstein expressed his doubts in the harmony of science and morality and expressed his preference in the latter. Man’s fate from this point depends upon his moral foundations, not upon the level of his technological achievements—Einstein’s conviction demonstrates the path of evolution traced by the point of view expressed by Berthelot. No matter how great the force of science it is incapable—even at its pinnacle—of assuring that moral underpinning for society which would guarantee the rational application of the achievements of the human mind. Einstein too was far from acknowledging the necessity of revolutionary social changes, but events led him squarely to this conclusion.
p The following eloquent fact bears testimony to such a statement. In June 1970 a twenty-five-year-old Doctor at Sussex University, Peter Harper declared publicly at an International Conference of scientists on the question " Science, Menace and Promises”, that he had decided to halt his 225 research on the brain, since the experimental results already obtained could easily be used by the "forces of evil" against man. In his opinion the appearance of a truly "humane science" is connected with a fundamental transformation of the economy, ideology and society as a whole. Only a human science will free the scientist from the power of the "forces of evil”. Science as an end in itself resembles a narcotic—it is harmful and leads to terrible effects.
p The example at hand, though abstract and vulnerable in a number of points is incontestable in that it acknowledges the very close dependence of the development and functioning of science upon the nature of the social order, economy and ideology of a given society. The achievement of the humanist mission of science is determined in the final result by factors extrinsic to its own sphere of activity.
p The link between science and morality is not as simple and direct as is imagined bv, for example, the advocates of straightforward rationalist ethics. Even today we may encounter the conviction that knowledge of how we must act is a sufficient condition for true moral behaviour. In actuality, however, things are much more complex. The feasibility of carrying out a moral deed is not assured by knowledge of moral principles and norms alone. Therefore the level of knowledge of both the isolated individual and the age as a whole does not coincide with that of their moral consciousness. The contradiction between the “rates” of growth of knowledge and consciousness (this contradiction makes itself felt even today) is not resolved by a simple increase in the integral of scientific knowledge.
p The instance at hand concerning Galileo also supports this conclusion. In terms of erudition Galileo and Giordano Bruno hardly differ, not to mention the fact that they defended one and the same idea. In the moment of decision, however, they acted differently. This difference engendered the moral drama enacted by one of them and of such interest to Brecht.
p Brecht’s interest in the life of Galileo was prompted by concrete social causes. In the rough draft of a preface to the play he wrote: "The bourgeoisie isolates science in the mind of the scientist, represents it as an autarkic island region, in order in practice to harness it to the chariot of its politics, its economy, its ideology. The goal of the researcher is “pure” research, the results however couldn’t be less pure. The formula E=mC2 is thought to be eternal and discrete. But such a position permits others to establish the existence of this tie: the city of 226 Hiroshima is suddenly wiped from the face of the earth. Scientists claim that the machine is not responsible.” [226•1
p This anti-fascist writer and Communist considers that the liberation of science from moral responsibility before society reflects the class interests of the bourgeoisie which is quite satisfied with the theory of the social impartiality of the natural sciences and the moral unaccountability of the scientist. In a world in which profit has become a fetish regulating all forms of social relations this theory finds fertile soil. With the emergence of positivist ideas the process of purging science of its ideological and moral aspect has taken place with unusual intensity and acquired in the imperialist era the most “aggressive” form. This purge is taking place under the seductive slogan of "freedom of research" and wages on the natural desire of the scientist to focus on his research, removing himself from worldly cares. Brecht observed in apposition: "Many people, aware of, or at least with an inkling of the shortcomings of capitalism, are prepared to make peace with these shortcomings for the sake of the individual freedom which it allegedly gives. They believe in this freedom primarily because it is almost never made use of.” [226•2
p The bourgeoisie is true to its own practicality: in providing the "freedom of research" it supplements this with another “freedom”, that of marketing one’s research. The slogan “freedom” is transformed into its opposite, into a trap, a snare into which many scientists do indeed fall. No matter how much the scientist might wish to remain within the confines of “pure” research, even there the process implies a total, a summing up. The latter turns out to be beyond the power of the scientist. To each his own: to the scientist—the research process, to the bourgeois—its results. How a discovery will be applied, for the good or to the detriment of mankind—this ethical, moral question is removed from the jurisdiction of science and becomes the prerogative of the powers that be. The scientist is instructed in the idea that his profession has no bearing upon his civic obligations.
p The idea of an "ivory tower" in which one might hide from the trials and tribulations of life penetrates into the world of science and insistently demands its right to recognition alongside "art for art’s sake”. Decadence as an expression of a 227 disjuncture between people of creative skills and the surrounding world, consequently, must not be considered a monopoly of the world of art. It is a general feature of the bourgeois way of life and world-view in the era of imperialism.
p The penetration of immoralist tendencies and moods into the scientific environment is not however only a purely ideological problem. It is a logical consequence of the more general process of scientific development in the age of imperialism. As John D. Bernal quite justifiably remarked: "The application of science—in the present capitalist system—leads to an insoluble ethical dilemma. Therefore we must abandon science or ethics or both. The minor premise, the economic system, is never taken into account.” [227•1 Therefore it is naive to reduce the substance of the problem to the question of the morality of the scientist as certain progressive figures in the Western scientific world do. Academician N. N. Semyonov, the Nobel Prize winner, observed in one of his articles touching upon this question: "The famous mathematician Norbert Wiener proposed that scientists should organize so to speak a system of ‘self-control’ and not publish a single line that might serve the cause of militarism. This noble but naive proposition could never be put into effect.... Suggestions of this sort do not take into account the fact that the entire complex of questions concerning the social nature of contemporary science and its accountability before mankind as well as its efforts to promote, the cause of man’s well-being—in real social life go beyond the limits of competence of the scientists.” [227•2 By the way, within the “competence” of the latter something essential does remain.
p Those who defend the indifference of science to the sphere of morality in point of fact exaggerate its autonomy. They refer for support to the allegation that science has but one goal—the search for truth. The scientist takes off where the human ends. The precise demarcation of the spheres of science and life is considered to be a sign of particular honesty, for the ethical meaning of the first allegedly is fully exhausted by fidelity to the principle of "objective truth”. To the extent that science, in actuality, does not directly pursue mo’ral goals and that the possession of truth does of itself not make the 228 scientist moral such a viewpoint could seem just and convincing. (In point of fact recognition that the Earth orbits the Sun of itself has no moral content). But if cognition is the path of inquiry, much of this pertains to the character, will and personality of the scientist. The arrival at a truth is most often associated with a re-evaluation of established opinions, and a fresh look at widespread but outmoded conceptions. Therefore it directly or indirectly forces the investigator to confront serious moral questions—often demanding a moral feat of him.
p Observing the growing responsibility on the part of the scientist before mankind one might recall the proverbial adage that "villainy and genius are two things that never go together”. Therefore the true scientist cannot shy away from moral problems, from deciding the question of the ends to which his discoveries and inventions are put. He cannot be comforted by the thought that the integral or the spontaneous nuclear reaction are in and of themselves “heartless” and as such are devoid of ethical criteria. The fact that spiritual turmoil and the scientist’s pangs of conscience as a rule remain concealed from the gaze or the outside world does not alter this situation.
p Science by its very nature is inseparably bound with social interests—it never was a form of hermeticism. The history of scientific thought represents a history of the strivings, desires and passions of the man in search of truth. Being an inseparable part of universal strivings towards an ideal it forms an element of secular history. The stages in this struggle are instructive, the list of heroes long. Brecht chose Galileo Galilei.
p During the lifetime of this remarkable Florentine physical conceptions which seem natural from the vantage point of contemporary science were then becoming an element in an ideological struggle. The views of Copernicus which were sharea and defended by Galileo and Giordano Bruno, struck to the very core of the religious Weltanschauung. The natural sciences became the arena of the bitterest ideological engagements. Any struggle of ideas, be it political or scientific, is simultaneously a conflict and struggle of moral positions.
p It is said that the first stage of wisdom is the discerning of falsehoods and the second the perception of the truth. If this is true, Galileo completed both stages. For seventeen years he taught the Ptolemaic system, while harbouring doubts of its accuracy. These doubts stood in need of confirmation by fact. It was the telescope directed by Galileo at the starry heavens which introduced these long-awaited facts. Now it was possible 229 to proclaim openly to the entire world the correctness of the views of Copernicus and Giordano Bruno. As a scientist Galileo believed in the conclusions of reason. He however forgot that in the Scriptures sin and knowledge were from the beginning inseparable: it was precisely the thirst for knowledge which forced man to bite upon the apple from the tree of knowledge. From the point of view of the ecclesiast, an evident crime had taken place against the principles and norms which had been given and legitimatized for eternity.
p In the scale of sins rigorously worked out by the Holy Church a sharp distinction was made between “pardonable” and “unpardonable” sins. To the first belonged sins of the “flesh”, to the second, sins of the “spirit”. In itself this division demonstrates that Church orthodoxy was not. distinguished by overwhelming consistency and, what is most important, was not really as formalist as it is customary to assume. The tolerant attitude to carnal sins justified the violation of ascetic norms on the part of the Church Fathers themselves (“Nq mortal is so high that his sins need not be prayed for”) and also—and this was fundamental—the fact that it permitted the Church to play with human weaknesses in order to curb a more terrible sin, namely “blasphemy”, when the ties with the fount of everything, God, are severed.
p Galileo, like Giordano Bruno, committed an “ unpardonable” sin. To be sure, as distinct from that of Galileo, Bruno’s “guilt” was aggravated by another deadly sin— praesumptio—that is to say impudence, when a well-known person hopes to be forgiven for an unpardonable sin without an act of penitence (sine poenitentia) and in the same motion hopes to attain the right to sin in a still more unbridled manner. The moral irreproachability and invulnerability of the Nolan (as Bruno called himself in his works, after the town in which he was born, Nola), bitingly and relentlessly speaking out against the dissoluteness of the aristocracy and of the art of "vulgar passions" and advocating restraint in one’s inclinations as well as moderation in the passions, were not even given passing mention by the Inquisition. Here the Holy Fathers could not retreat from consistency: “morality” or “immorality” was to be determined for the scientist in terms of his stance toward the postulates of the Church.
p The split between science and religion was placed in bold relief by the very notion of the moral accountability of the scientist. The Church considered his responsibility to rest in the concealment of the truth, for the latter could lead in unpredictable directions as one court philosopher frankly 230 points out in Brecht’s play. The playwright gives us to understand that we are not concerned with the Church as such. Beyond the facade of the canons of the Church are concealed the interests of definite social and political forces, the personification of which is the Church. Science, on the contrary, understood the responsibility of the scientist to lie in the resolute rejection of all outmoded conceptions. Two ethical codes, the Church and the scientific, differed literally in every matter of concern. For the scientist the most "stubborn fact" was data, the experiment. For the scholastic it was the citation, the sophistry and the authority of “heavenly” Aristotle (incidentally, the great Greek philosopher and naturalist should bear little blame for this, for the Church distorted his works beyond recognition, destroying, in the words of Lenin, all that was “alive” and preserving that which was “moribund”). The sincere and naive attempts by Galileo to “persuade” by rational argumentation were shattered against the impenetrable shield of scholasticism, dogmatism, ignorance, and “asininity”, to use Bruno’s concise appraisal.
p “For the scholastic,” Bruno writes ironically, "everything measures up to standard.” Witness the academy over the entrance of which is written: “Don’t violate the norm of moderation.” In this habitation the inhabitants are painstakingly and tirelessly working out the most complex problems of existence. Precisely what problems? Some are deciphering the Scriptures. Others are engaged in the resurrection of outdated words, determining the rules of correct and incorrect orthography. Still others are carrying on an endless dispute on what comes first: the sea or its sources, the noun or the verb. They are to the last person replete with an awareness of the absolute necessity of such activity, of the certitude of time-honoured notions and viewpoints. Any encroachment upon their substantiality calls forth protests and indignation. Science might lead in unpredictable directions—Brecht caustically epitomized the substance of the methodology of the Holy Chuich.
p Galileo, just like any other individual, was not free to choose his own opponents. The “asses” set against him were in fact the powers that be in society. Therefore Galileo’s defeat in his conflict with the Holy Church was predictable. The methodology of the scholastics and dogmatists becomes impenetrable the moment it is taken seriously. Orthodoxy makes “asininity” unassailable. Galileo became convinced of this after receiving scholars from the Florentine court. This was a dialogue of the deaf. Two thought patterns, absolutely alien and mutually 231 exclusive, came into conflict. Galileo would have been fully justified in repeating Socrates’ sad aphorism: "As for me, all I know is that I know nothing.” But they lack even that knowledge. Indeed to the ignorant any new idea seems superfluous.
p The age of Galileo, so rich in talent in all intellectual and creative walks of life (Galileo’s year of birth marks that of the death of Michelangelo, the mature life of the scientist coincides with the flowering of Shakespeare’s genius and with Kepler’s discovery of the laws of planetary motion)—lacked an essential link, that of sensitivity to genius. Often self-satisfied mediocrity triumphed over brilliance and talent; banality and baseness over honesty and sincerity. Accommodation was elevated to a moral norm. Crude utilitarianism, on the one hand, and absolute intolerance of unorthodoxy on the other, transformed the life of the talented person into uninterrupted moral torment.
p Galileo, a devout believer in the power of reason, was forced to the recognition that the triumph of the latter was to a large extent determined by factors extrinsic to reason and science. But he could free himself definitively of illusions and soberly evaluate his situation in the surrounding world only after his individual fate had been decided for him. But he left us, people of another historical era and another way of life, his moral experience of which it would be unwise not to take advantage.
p Science, like everything living, develops through contradictions, through a conflict of opinions. But this struggle begins to acquire a distorted form as soon as elementary ethical norms have been violated. In its own time an article by the American sage Benjamin Franklin entitled "The Morals of Chess" caused quite a stir. In ironic form the game of chess is compared in this article with life itself. In a few points outlining the “rules” of the game Franklin formulates a kind of moral codex for human behaviour and mutual relations. This codification, as a brief look will demonstrate, bears directly upon science.
p The following represent certain of these rules:,
p “Therefore, first, if it is agreed to play according to the strict rules, then those rules are to be exactly observed by both parties, and should not be insisted on for one side, while deviated from by the other, for this is not equitable.
p “Secondly, if it is agreed not to observe the rules exactly, but one party demands indulgences, he should then be as willing to allow them to the other.
232p “Thirdly, no false move should ever he made to extricate yourself out of difficulty, or to gain an advantage. There can be no pleasure in playing with a person once detected in such unfair practice....
p “Snatch not eagerly at every advantage offered by his unskillfulness or inattention; but point out to him kindly, that by such a move he places or leaves a piece in danger and unsupported; that by another he will put his king in a perilous situation, etc. By this generous civility (so opposite to the unfairness above forbidden) you may, indeed, happen to lose the game to your opponent; but you will win what is better, his esteem, his respect, and his affection, together with the silent approbation and good-will of impartial spectators.” [232•1
p Unfortunately in maintaining various scientific points of view, the contestants by no means always observe rules of this type. The violation of ethical and scientific norms for conducting polemics, claims by some scholars to a monopoly of knowledge, the self-serving application of accepted terminology in place of an objective analysis of data—all these habits interfere with and delay progress in science.
p However, let us return to our discussion of Galileo.
p If it is possible to speak of being ready to die, Giordano Bruno had morally readied himself for the terrible end prepared for him by the Inquisition. In his Degli eroici furori the unyielding Bruno wrote: "It is unquestionable that a dignified and courageous death is preferable to an unworthy and vile triumph.” [232•2 On the Campo dei Fieri in Rome he demonstrated his sincerity and the deliberateness of his words as he faced the bonfire. Incidentally Galileo’s abnegation demonstrated with clarity that even a "vile triumph" is unattainable: people are not indifferent to the moral price at which the right to live is bought. The scene depicting Galileo in a state of dotage—as it is written in the play—testifies to the total deterioration of his personality.
p It should be observed that here, as well, Brecht remains faithful to the truth of his character. His Galileo is not one who under the spell of "objective circumstances" will seek for a source of self-justification. The position of the playwright excludes even the slightest possibility of self-justification for the hero, for this would call into doubt morality as a whole. 233 Brecht’s Galileo unambiguously admits the unforgivable nature of abnegation. "I have become convinced,” Galileo says to Sarti, "that I was never threatened in a direct manner. For the course of several years I was just as strong as were the authorities.” His will and nature constantly find themselves under the control of his reason, excluding an unpremeditated decision. If nevertheless he carried out deeds for which he was later repentant, they were by no means committed "in ignorance”. The level of consciousness of the scientist is too high to succumb to the temptation to attribute it to the "work of the devil”, or even to refer to "higher considerations”. "If I had agreed to remain silent,” he says, "then I would have been acting of course not out of higher, but in fact the lowest of motivations, to live a comfortable life without a knowledge of persecution....”
p In Brecht’s attitude toward Galileo it is important to distinguish two closely related yet nevertheless relatively independent features: though uncompromising in his negative evaluation of the act of abnegation the playwright as realist does not rush to condemn. He wants to understand Galileo.
p Brecht demonstrates that where it is only "laws of genuflection" that matter morality becomes a purely personal affair. In point of fact if the deed is to be evaluated irrespective of motivation, if it is the word rather than the thought which matters, the striving to look at the world with one’s own eyes is regarded a heresy—moral convictions and motivations only obstruct life and the attempt to tend peacefully to one’s affairs. The moral agonies suffered by the scientist are usually concealed from the gaze of the outsider.
p In Galileo’s world these considerations are not taken into account. Indeed they are just as impractical as the indulgences generously lavished upon the devout by the Church to free them from the necessity of making their deeds commensurate with the voice of the conscience. He succeeds who has learned to live with "two ledgers”, with two sets of tabulations, one for “them”, the other for “me”. Galileo, it would seem, learned the workings of this inveigling tabulator. Brecht more than once underscores the resourcefulness and assertiveness of his protagonist. Lying, maintaining a discrete silence, evasiveness, the anility to compose slavish letters and to shower with assurances of his "utmost esteem" the nobodies in cassocks—the scientist didn’t shy away from such tactical weapons, hoping with their aid to maintain his right to conduct research and—to live. Cunning on the part of the honest person, however, suffers from one essential flaw: it is easily 234 identified. Galileo’s cunning was several notches below that of the powerful Church.
p Defence of the truth requires a special type of courage of which Galileo was bereft.
p Those who believe that truth will blaze its own trail are sorely mistaken. No, "the amount of truth which comes to light is exactly equal to that amount which we ourselves bring forth,” says Brecht through the voice of his hero. Strength or frailty of character and the moral qualities .of the individual are just as important in sciertce as they are in politics. Einstein wrote in an article entitled "Marie Curie in Memoriam" that "It is the moral qualities of its leading personalities that are perhaps of even greater significance for a generation and for the course of history than purely intellectual accomplishments. Even these latter are, to a far greater degree than is commonly credited, dependent on the stature of character". [234•1
p This conclusion was arrived at through deep suffering on the part of the great physicist. Just before his death Einstein admitted that although he had throughout his life striven to maintain his ethical convictions in a society of cynics, he had done so with "mixed success”. In a letter to Max Brod, the author of a novel entitled Galilei in Gefangenschaft Einstein wrote that his conception of Galileo differed from that presented by Born. "He passionately sought out the truth, more than did anyone else. But ... without any good reason he set out for Rome to take issue there with the clergy and politicians.... I cannot imagine, for example, that I would have acted in a similar manner to defend the theory of relativity. I would have thought: the truth is much stronger than I am, and it would take the insanity of a Don Quixote to mount Rosinante and defend the truth with the sword.” [234•2 However, the story of the stance taken to the atom bomb by the author of these lines belies the truth: having learned that the nazis had stepped up work on nuclear fission, Einstein insisted upon active counter-measures, then after an interval of several years tried to ward off Hiroshima through a letter to the American president. It is impossible to deny to this genius the logic of his deeds or the exceptional nature of his human worth, which played such an important part in the crucial moments.
235p Galileo is truly "no stranger to all that is human”; his adherence to sensual pleasures only serves to demonstrate the fullness and versatility of his character. We should not look for the cause of his moral fall here. The proverbial image of the monastic scientist, indifferent to the ordinary joys and trepidations of life, an image from time to time resurrected by art, is nothing more than an illusion of art, the result of superficial conceptions of the labours and life-style of original scientific minds. In Brecht’s Galileo there is nothing of the eccentric—scatter-brained, again and again putting his foot in his mouth, clumsy and ridiculous in habit. In the play Galileo is physically sturdy, passionate in all aspects of his nature, full of mischief and, in a word, enraptured with life. But his love of life suffers from shortcomings in his character, will and courage. These are forgivable, perhaps, in ordinary affairs, but not when matters concern the defence of one’s convictions.
p In the celebrated closing monologue by Galileo the playwright gives (in the form of self-analysis) a philosophical explanation of the moral consequences of abnegation. "If I had stood firm the natural scientists would have been able to work something like the doctors’ Hypocratic oath, a solemn oath to use one’s own knowledge only for the benefit of mankind. But ... now one can count at best on a species of inventive dwarfs who will be employed for striving any ends.... I have betrayed my mission. The man who is doing what I have done cannot be kept in the world of science.” [235•1
p Self-flagellation is by no means in the nature of Galileo. His self-criticism is the fruit of deep meditation on the moral question basic to the man of science: "Can we retreat and renounce the needs of the majority of the population and still remain scientists?” [235•2 Galileo’s answer is well-known, a resounding “No”. But the fate of the scientific discovery depends not only upon the courage and fortitude of the scientist, it is in the hands of those whom science serves. Answering the little monk Galileo gave precise expression to this thought: "Who will assume that the sum of the angles of a tTiangle runs ccjunter to the requirements ... of peasants? But if they are not set in motion and learn to think the finest irrigation installations will be no help for them. Goddamn! I have seen enough of your relatives’ heavenly patience but where is their heavenly 236 wrath?” [236•1 As we see, the playwright is far removed from trying to reduce the problem of moral responsibility in science to the moral qualities of its creators. Depicting the concrete circumstances surrounding Galileo’s abnegation, he uncovers the social wellsprings of the behaviour of his protagonist.
p Brecht, like his audience, knows that Galileo retained his place in science, just as did Giordano Bruno and Copernicus. Nevertheless he forces his hero to pronounce an uncompromising verdict upon himself. The technique of “ distancing” is employed here not for dramatic effect, but to underscore the central idea of the play—the social accountability of the individual for each deed committed. The first play Brecht was to write after Galileo was Mother Courage and Her Children (Mutter Courage und ihre Kinder) where the same theme, already on the material of the "man in the street”, is continued. Courage as distinct from Galileo does not recognize the historical consequences of her actions. At the end of the play, having forced the mother of sons who had perished in the war, to drag her van out to meet new carnage, Brecht poses the question of the responsibility of the so-called "man in the street" for the fate of the world. Both in the case of the “famous” scientist and in that of the unknown sutler, the writer and Communist defends the significance of the ethical values of the individual and of the moral self-awareness of society. As a realist he knows well that only the person who considers himself the master of his own fate feels responsibility for his actions. If any human decision is a complex blend of character and external circumstances, then one must concern oneself not only with changes in social conditions but also with fostering the human attributes capable of meeting these changes.
p In an acknowledgement of the important role played by character we find nothing idealistic or voluntaristic. In the contemporary world when knowingly or unknowingly, willingly or unwillingly every individual is a political being, compelled by circumstances themselves to choose one or another side of the barricades, to take the decision, the uncompromising moral position of the author of Leben des Galilei seems much more preferable than the position of those who, guided by noble intentions try to minimize the moral significance of the great physicist’s recantation. To wit, the author of the interesting book Heroes and Heretics, the progressive American 237 philosopher Barrows Dunham, in comparing the behaviour and late of Giordano Bruno and Galileo endeavours to justify the line of conduct followed by the latter with considerations of common sense. Dunham admits that Galileo’s tactic was less “heroic” than Bruno’s, but it "was rather more astute, aware of the political possibilities”. In what did this “astuteness” consist? Dunham explains: "Martyrdom is no doubt a noble act, and has more than once been necessary to human salvation. But it is possible for men to be made drunk with it, and thus to lose reason [emphasis added—V. T.]. Galileo’s discovery—not less important than his discovery of the earth’s rotation—was that one could now propagate science without ultimate personal disaster, and that a little suffering together with a little statesmanship would see one through.” [237•1
p The author of the foregoing lines does not conceal that "clever manoeuvring in the labyrinth of politics and ideology" is a "wiser tactic" than is the "heroic posture" of Bruno. And though Dunham doesn’t deny the significance of the deed of the “immolated” (“... with Bruno’s death coercive power at last abandoned the faggot and the stake”) he tries to explain it by the maximalism ofBruno’s position and by an almost conscious striving to hasten the arrival of the terrible and fatal end. [237•2 Dunham, relying exclusively upon common sense considerations, clearly does not take into account the fact that without precise moral criteria this very common sense can lead to the most unexpected results. This is where the complication lies, in that authentic morality is often compelled, in Blaise Pascal’s expression, to disdain the "morality of the intellect”, the so-called "common sense" arguments.
p As far as the tactic of "clever manoeuvring in the labyrinth of politics and ideology" is concerned, it can bear results only given the presence of certain very important conditions: definite independence of research from political goals set by the ruling class and a sufficiently high level of social awareness among scientists. The situation in which science and the scientists find themselves in contemporary bourgeois society is characterized precisely by the absence of such conditions. During the time of Galileo natural science remained a source of diversion and scientists conducted their experiments counting on,so to speak, their own “wages”. In any case in the very process of scientific experimentation, research and the 238 search for the truth, the scholar was given a relatively free hand from outside interference and from economic pressure. Today the circumstances have radically changed: in order to conduct serious research major allocations are a must, which signifies the participation of powerful corporations and monopolies. The scientist as a rule from the very initiation of his research is bound "hand and foot" by moral obligations with social forces which may be absolutely alien to him. The application of the automated and advanced technology necessary for the experiment leads to the loss of an ethical order, for as Max Born observed, this process reduces the significance of the individual contribution in the carrying out of work and destroys the feeling of personal dignity. The objective position of science and scientists in bourgeois society is such that the tactics of "clever manoeuvring" more often than not are condemned from the start to Failure. It goes without saying that true scientists form, as always, an insignificant minority. However the extraordinarily nigh level of technological development has placed them in key positions within society. But despite the clear advantages of their way of thinking, they nevertheless are quite blind to its fundamental limitations. The political and ethical argumentations posed by scientists are for this-reason often both primitive and dangerous.
p There can be no argument that surmounting this dramatic situation does not depend upon the individual moral position or nature of the behaviour of the scientist. Egress, as Lenin demonstrated in his analysis of the social causes of the "crisis of natural science" must be sought in a fundamental restructuring of society through socialist revolution. But a role of some significance does fall upon the scientist as well. It is this side of the question that occupies the attention of the author of Leben des Galilei.
p Brecht is by no means inclined to oversimplify the circumstances in which Galileo finds himself. His hero remains at the "height of his faculties" even when it is quite impossible to agree with him. Brecht does not exaggerate the role of personal courage, but his sympathies in this instance are unquestionably not on the side of Galileo. It is not incorrect to observe that truth will blaze its own trail in the end and triumph over the forces of ignorance and obscurantism. But this does not free the man of science from the duty of struggling for this victory through the force of personal example, and when circumstances compel him to the point, through a readiness to sacrifice his own personal interests.
p The moral import of Galileo’s abnegation has multiple 239 ramifications. It isn’t simply that before the eyes of people who are indiscriminate in means and who don’t trouble themselves over an excess of conscience there looms a contagious example to which it is convenient to allude on certain occasions. Just as in art a step by step inquiry into the "hero‘s” deeds is not the most widespread source of his impact upon life. The sobriety and severity with which Galileo judges his own deed excludes the possibility of any kind of analogy with the likes of Edward Teller, who is often called the "father of the hydrogen bomb”. Of course it would be outrageous to make a direct analogy here but the ethical principles flaunted by the behaviour of Teller at the hearings on Robert Oppenheimer, at which he without the slightest sign of inner spiritual drama consciously demonstrated where moral indifference could lead the scientist—have not only class but historical roots.
p The legend of the great heretic has come down through the centuries allegedly exclaiming after his renunciation forced by the Inquisition: "E pur si muove!" In actuality Brecht is closer to the truth, for the historical documents support the artistic rather than the legendary version. But man’s optimism is also understandable. The legend contains a faith in the victory of reason, in the endurance of scientific thought and in progress. Insisting on the necessity of an uncompromising verdict against the act of “treason” committed by the scientist, and supporting the second “maximalist” edition of the play (1946-1947), Brecht at the same time observed that in appreciation of Galileo’s faith in a science not divorced from the people, "the people demonstrated its tribute in that for centuries across me face of Europe no one believed in his recantation". [239•1
The play Leben des Galilei carries a very valuable and needed message to its audience concerning the accountability of the individual before his time and before the future. This message is that one must not betray one’s convictions, enter into a compromise with one’s conscience when matters concern the fate of truth. The favourite formula of the philistine "what can I do alone?" is opposed in the play by another: "What a victory was achieved by the fact that one person said"—No!" The play is also about individual value of the personality measured by the degree of its self-sacrifice in the struggle for progressive ideas, in our century—in the struggle for communism.
Notes
[223•1] G. V. Plekhanov, Art and Literature, Moscow, 1948, p. 185 (in Russian).
[224•1] M. Berthelot, Science et morale, Moscow, 1898, p. 11 (in Russian).
[224•2] Ibid., p. 15.
[224•3] Ibid., p. 48.
[226•1] Bertolt Brecht, Schriften zum Theater, Band IV, Berlin und Weimar, 1964, S. 222-23.
[226•2] Ibid., S. 227.
[227•1] John D. Bernal, "The Abdication of Science”. In: The Modern Quarterly, Vol. 8, No. 1, Winter 1952-1953, pp. 45-46.
[227•2] “Science and Society in the Atomic Age”, Voprosy Filosofii, 1960, No. 7, p. 30 (in Russian).
[232•1] Benjamin Franklin, "Morals of Chess”. In: The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Vol. II, Boston, 1840, pp. 190-91.
[232•2] Giordano Bruno, Des fureurs heroiques (Degli eroici furori), Paris, 1954, p. 192.
[234•1] Albert Einstein, Out of My Later Years, London, 1950, p. 227.
[234•2] B. G. Kuznetsov, Galileo Galilei (Study of His Life and Scientific Work). In: Galileo Galilei, Selected Works. In two volumes. Vol. 2, Moscow, 1964, pp. 487-88 (in Russian).
[235•1] Bettoll Brecht, l.eben des Galilei, Berlin uncl Weimar, 1964, S. 188.
[235•2] Ibid.. S. 186-187.
[236•1] Bertolt Brecht, Leben des Galilei, S. 119.
[237•1] Barrows Dunham, Heroes and Heretics, New York, 1964, p. 319.
[237•2] Ibid., p. 318.
[239•1] Bertolt Brecht, Schriften zum Theater, S. 254.
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