Probably I should’ve added some context to this conversation. One of the themes of Baroque Cycle is that Newton described his gravitational law, but said nothing about why the reality is the way it is. This bugs Daniel, and he rests his hopes upon Leibniz who tries to explain reality on the more fundamental level (monads).
This conversation is “Explain/Worship/Ignore” thing as well as “Teacher’s password” thing.
The reason Newton’s laws are an improvement over Aristotelian “the nature of water is etc.” is that Newton lets you make predictions, while Aristotle does not. You could ask “but WHY does gravity work like so-and-so?”, but that doesn’t change the fact that Newton’s laws let you predict orbits of celestial objects, etc., in advance of seeing them.
That’s certainly the conventional wisdom, but I think the conventional wisdom sells Aristotle and his contemporaries a little short. Sure, speaking in terms of water and air and fire and dirt might look a little silly to us now, but that’s rather superficial: when you get down to the experiments available at the time, Aristotelian physics ran on properties that genuinely were pretty well correlated, and you could in fact use them to make reasonably accurate predictions about behavior you hadn’t seen from the known properties of an object. All kosher from a scientific perspective so far.
There are two big differences I see, though neither implies that Aristotle was telling just-so stories. The first is that Aristotelian physics was mainly a qualitative undertaking, not a quantitative one—the Greeks knew that the properties of objects varied in a mathematically regular way (witness Erastothenes’ clever method of calculating Earth’s circumference), but this wasn’t integrated closely into physical theory. The other has to do with generality: science since Galileo has applied as universally as possible, though some branches reduced faster than others, but the Greeks and their medieval followers were much more willing to ascribe irreducible properties to narrow categories of object. Both end up placing limits on the kinds of inferences you’ll end up making.
Probably I should’ve added some context to this conversation. One of the themes of Baroque Cycle is that Newton described his gravitational law, but said nothing about why the reality is the way it is. This bugs Daniel, and he rests his hopes upon Leibniz who tries to explain reality on the more fundamental level (monads).
This conversation is “Explain/Worship/Ignore” thing as well as “Teacher’s password” thing.
The reason Newton’s laws are an improvement over Aristotelian “the nature of water is etc.” is that Newton lets you make predictions, while Aristotle does not. You could ask “but WHY does gravity work like so-and-so?”, but that doesn’t change the fact that Newton’s laws let you predict orbits of celestial objects, etc., in advance of seeing them.
That’s certainly the conventional wisdom, but I think the conventional wisdom sells Aristotle and his contemporaries a little short. Sure, speaking in terms of water and air and fire and dirt might look a little silly to us now, but that’s rather superficial: when you get down to the experiments available at the time, Aristotelian physics ran on properties that genuinely were pretty well correlated, and you could in fact use them to make reasonably accurate predictions about behavior you hadn’t seen from the known properties of an object. All kosher from a scientific perspective so far.
There are two big differences I see, though neither implies that Aristotle was telling just-so stories. The first is that Aristotelian physics was mainly a qualitative undertaking, not a quantitative one—the Greeks knew that the properties of objects varied in a mathematically regular way (witness Erastothenes’ clever method of calculating Earth’s circumference), but this wasn’t integrated closely into physical theory. The other has to do with generality: science since Galileo has applied as universally as possible, though some branches reduced faster than others, but the Greeks and their medieval followers were much more willing to ascribe irreducible properties to narrow categories of object. Both end up placing limits on the kinds of inferences you’ll end up making.