Michael Polanyi and Personal Knowledge
Posted by David Corfield
There was a discussion over at the Secret Blogging Seminar about the differences between mathematics and the natural sciences, which interested me greatly as someone who has frequently looked to the philosophy of science for ideas about how to treat mathematics. By and large Anglophone philosophy has chosen to treat these disciplines very differently, and has overlooked opportunities to elaborate their similarities, such as furthering George Polya’s Bayesian treatment of mathematics.
One way to lessen the difference between the disciplines is to bring to centre stage the personal involvement of scientist and mathematician in their respective theories. In that each is a member of a tradition of long standing, each has to struggle against some intransigent reality, and to convince their colleagues that their perspective on this reality is a good one, they can be seen to have much in common. For some, however, the distinction between empirical evidence and whatever support a mathematician receives trumps any such consideration.
Michael Polanyi in Personal Knowledge, written in 1958, while reflecting on this latter difference, seeks to understand it in the context of a general account of participation in a wide range of practices:
The acceptance of different kinds of articulate systems as mental dwelling places is arrived at by a process of gradual appreciation, and all these acceptances depend to some extent on the content of relevant experiences; but the bearing of natural sciences on facts of experience is much more specifiable than that of mathematics, religion or the various arts. It is justifiable, therefore, to speak of the verification of science by experience in a sense which would not apply to other articulate systems. The process by which other systems than science are tested and finally accepted may be called, by contrast, a process of validation.
Our personal participation is in general greater in a validation than in a verification. The emotional coefficient of assertion is intensified as we pass from the sciences to the neighbouring domains of thought. But both verification and validation are everywhere an acknowledgement of a commitment: they claim the presence of something real and external to the speaker. As distict from both of these, subjective experiences can only be said to be authentic, and authenticity does not involve a commitment in the sense in which both verification and validation do. (p. 202)
Some participants in the Secret Blogging Seminar debate, such as Terence Tao, were keen to provide a continuum between mathematics and physics. An important point to note in this respect is that physics is guided by other than empirical considerations. Earlier in the book, pp. 9-15, Polanyi discusses how Einstein came to relativity theory more by way of what we have heard him call above validation than by verification. He continues:
When the laws of physics thus appear as particular instances of geometric theorems, we may infer that the confidence placed in physical theory owes much to its possessing the same kind of excellence from which pure geometry and pure mathematics in general derive their interest, and for the sake of which they are cultivated.(p. 15)
Again we are returned to the passionate, personal engagement of the scientist with their field. I’ll leave you with his diagnosis of the mistake which encourages us to discount this engagement:
We cannot truly account for our acceptance of such theories without endorsing our acknowledgement of a beauty that exhilarates and a profundity that entrances us. Yet the prevailing conception of science, based on the disjunction of subjectivity from objectivity, seeks–and must seek at all costs–to eliminate from science such passionate, personal, human appraisals of theories, or at least to minimize their function to that of a negligible by-play. For modern man has set up as the ideal of knowledge the conception of natural science as a set of statements which is ‘objective’ in the sense that its substance is entirely determined by observation, even while its presentation may be shaped by convention. This conception, stemming from a craving rooted in the very depths of our culture, would be shattered if the intuition of rationality in nature had to be acknowledged as a justifiable and indeed essential part of scientific theory. That is why scientific theory is represented as a mere economical description of facts; or as embodying a conventional policy for drawing empirical inferences; or as a working hypothesis, suited to man’s practical convenience–interpretations that all deliberately overlook the rational core of science.
That is why, also, if the existence of this rational core yet reasserts itself, its offensiveness is covered up by a set of euphemisms, a kind of decent understatement like that used in Victorian times when legs were called limbs–a bowdlerization which we may observe, for example, in the attempts to replace ‘rationality’ by ‘simplicity’. It is legitimate, of course, to regard simplicity as a mark of rationality, and to pay tribute to any theory as a triumph of simplicity. But great theories are rarely simple in the ordinary sense of the term. Both quantum mechanics and relativity are very difficult to understand; it takes only a few minutes to memorize the facts accounted for by relativity, but years of study may not suffice to master the theory and see these facts in its context. Hermann Weyl lets the cat out of the bag by saying: ‘the required simplicity is not necessarily the obvious one but we must let nature train us to recognize the true inner simplicity.’ In other words, simplicity in science can be made equivalent to rationality only if ‘simplicity’ is used in a special sense known solely by scientists. We understand the meaning of the term ‘simple’ only by recalling the meaning of the term ‘rational’ or ‘reasonable’ or ‘such that we ought to assent to it’, which the term ‘simple’ was supposed to replace. The term ‘simplicity’ functions then merely as a disguise for another meaning than its own. It is used for smuggling an essential quality into our appreciation of a scientific theory, which a mistaken conception of objectivity forbids us openly to acknowledge.
What has just been said of ‘simplicity’ applies equally to ‘symmetry’ and ‘economy’. They are contributing elements in the excellence of a theory, but can account for its merit only if the meanings of these terms are stretched far beyond their usual scope, so as to include the much deeper qualities which make the scientists rejoice in a vision like that of relativity. They must stand for those peculiar intellectual harmonies which reveal, more profoundly and permanently than any sense-experience, the presence of objective truth.
I shall call this practice a pseudo-substitution. It is used to play down man’s real and indispensable intellectual powers for the sake of maintaining an ‘objectivist’ framework which in fact cannot account for them. It works by defining scientific merit in terms of its relatively trivial features, and making these function then in the same way as the true terms which they are supposed to replace.
Other areas of science will illustrate even more effectively these indispensable intellectual powers, and their passionate participation in the act of knowing. It is to these powers and to this participation that I am referring in the title of this book as ‘Personal Knowledge’. We shall find Personal Knowledge manifested in the appreciation of probability and of order in the exact sciences, and see it at work even more extensively in the way the descriptive sciences rely on skills and connoisseurship. At all these points the act of knowing includes an appraisal; and this personal coefficient, which shapes all factual knowledge, bridges in doing so the disjunction between subjectivity and objectivity. It implies the claim that man can transcend his own subjectivity by striving passionately to fulfil his personal obligations to universal standards.
Dimensions of model; 2 forms of Knowing; Re: Michael Polanyi and Personal Knowledge
Two quick comments first, as deep thought ensues.
(1) Terry Tao, in suggesting a second axis in a chart of Math versus Science, namely concrete/abstract, replaces a spectrum analogy with a manifold – the Euclidean R^2. But why 2 axes? Why not R^n for some larger n?
(2) “Anglophone philosophy has chosen to treat these disciplines very differently…”
In part because the English language does not so clearly distinguish two forms of knowing: “knowing-that” and “knowing-how.”
French. Greek, Latin and Russian have constructions similar to “savoir faire” and “savoir comment faire”. German doesn’t, but the German translations for “knowing how” suggests why English goes astray..
In German, “wissen wie”, the most literal translation of “knowing how”, works pretty much the way the English construction (always) works. That is, it means savoir comment faire. Thus French sentences containing “savoir [faire]” shouldn’t be translated into German using “wissen wie”. Rather, one has to use the German “können”, which otherwise comes close to the English “can” (not to be confused with “kennen”).
I’ve said on earlier threads that there are 5 magesteria, each with a different apparatus for “truth” and for “proof.” Mathematics is (at least since Euclid) centered on Axiomatic Truth, and Science on Empirical Truth. The experimentalist is “knowing-how” in a way that Philsophy of Mathematics mostly denies to Math. But in the age of new foundations (including n-Catgeory Theory) and of Experimental Mathematics, the distinction does need to be re-appraised.