An envelope filled with history’s great scientists

An envelope filled with history’s great scientists

And the nominees are...

Originally published 2 December 1991

Who was the most impor­tant sci­en­tist of all time?

And now, ladies and gen­tle­men, the sev­en hon­ored nom­i­nees. Charles Dar­win. Louis Pas­teur. Marie Curie. Thomas Alva Edi­son. Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell. Galileo Galilei. Albert Einstein.

The nom­i­nees are sci­en­tists select­ed by the Boston Muse­um of Sci­ence as des­ig­na­tions for dona­tion lev­els in the muse­um’s annu­al fund cam­paign. For a cer­tain min­i­mum annu­al gift, you become a Charles Dar­win Asso­ciate. For a more sub­stan­tial con­tri­bu­tion, you are named a Louis Pas­teur Asso­ciate. And so on up the list, with Ein­stein at the top. The mea­sure of gen­eros­i­ty asso­ci­at­ed with each name implies an esti­mate of that sci­en­tist’s importance.

The list of names arrived in the mail, with an invi­ta­tion to sup­port the muse­um’s work, a cause I whole­heart­ed­ly endorse. But, for the moment, let us play a more friv­o­lous game. The list of names invites a per­son­al rank­ing, not nec­es­sar­i­ly the same as that of the muse­um’s: Which of the sev­en con­tributed most to the grand pageant of history?

May I have the envelopes, please?

In 7th place: Alexan­der Gra­ham Bell. An exceed­ing­ly clever man, not a sci­en­tist by train­ing, best known for invent­ing the tele­phone and mak­ing his name syn­ony­mous with voice com­mu­ni­ca­tion. He was sure­ly select­ed by the muse­um on the basis of name recog­ni­tion by Amer­i­cans. We are a prac­ti­cal peo­ple, more giv­en to rec­og­niz­ing Yan­kee inge­nu­ity than the­o­ret­i­cal genius. Every­one has heard of Bell, but who has heard of Joseph Hen­ry, the superb the­o­ret­i­cal sci­en­tist who inspired and encour­aged both Bell and Samuel Morse, inven­tor of the telegraph?

In 6th place: Marie Curie. Inevitable on any list, for her gen­der as for her remark­able achieve­ments. A sci­en­tist of prodi­gious deter­mi­na­tion, she chem­i­cal­ly iso­lat­ed from tons of ore a tiny amount of a new ele­ment, radi­um, that glowed with its own mys­te­ri­ous light. That light would grow to fill the predawn desert sky over Alam­ogor­do, New Mex­i­co, on July 16, 1945, and the sky above Hiroshi­ma and Nagasa­ki. Lat­er in her life, Curie suf­fered the cru­el agony of radi­a­tion poi­son­ing, a first but not last vic­tim of a dis­cov­ery that seemed, in the first glow of suc­cess, to offer only promise.

In 5th place: Albert Ein­stein. The per­son above all oth­ers whose name means “sci­en­tist,” an intel­lect of tow­er­ing pro­por­tions, per­haps equaled only by Isaac New­ton —who is con­spic­u­ous­ly miss­ing from our list. Three papers pub­lished by Ein­stein in the sin­gle year 1905 rev­o­lu­tion­ized physics. Lat­er, he unrav­eled the equiv­a­lence of mat­ter and ener­gy, there­by mak­ing his own con­tri­bu­tion to the dark mir­a­cle of Alam­ogor­do. Still, for all of his con­tri­bu­tions to our under­stand­ing of the uni­verse, his direct influ­ence on the way we live our lives and under­stand our­selves is minimal.

In 4th place: Louis Pas­teur. A per­son of deep reli­gious and philo­soph­i­cal con­vic­tions, who nev­er­the­less con­sid­ered exper­i­men­ta­tion the only reli­able arbiter of truth. We know him for pas­teur­iza­tion, vac­ci­na­tion, and oth­er con­tri­bu­tions to pub­lic health. But most sig­nif­i­cant was his demon­stra­tion that all liv­ing things are bio­chem­i­cal­ly relat­ed and that life invari­ably comes from life. In this sense, he demys­ti­fied life and opened vital process­es to sci­en­tif­ic inquiry.

In 3rd place: Thomas Alva Edi­son. Like Bell, he is dei­fied by our bent for the prac­ti­cal. Edis­on’s more than 1,000 patent­ed inven­tions include the incan­des­cent bulb that turned night into day, but also many of the behind-the-scenes appa­ra­tus that makes our elec­tri­fied civ­i­liza­tion pos­si­ble. As much as any per­son, Edi­son can stand in for Bell, Morse, Eli Whit­ney, Hen­ry Ford, the Wright broth­ers, and oth­er inspired tin­ker­ers who tin­kered Amer­i­ca to greatness.

In 2nd place: Galileo Galilei. The true father of mod­ern sci­ence. Of all per­sons nom­i­nat­ed, Galileo is the most com­plete­ly orig­i­nal. It is hard to imag­ine any­one else of his time mar­shal­ing the same resources — intel­lec­tu­al, moral, phys­i­cal — to sin­gle­hand­ed­ly make obso­lete a sys­tem of nat­ur­al phi­los­o­phy that for a mil­len­nia had held human knowl­edge hostage to Greek and scrip­tur­al author­i­ty. He chal­lenged an entrenched intel­lec­tu­al estab­lish­ment by per­form­ing sim­ple exper­i­ments and describ­ing what he saw with auda­cious courage. His lega­cy: The world is ruled not by whim but by mathematics.

And, in 1st place, in a stun­ning upset, turn­ing the muse­um’s hier­ar­chy on its ear: Charles Dar­win. He did not invent or dis­cov­er evo­lu­tion. The idea was in the air. Alfred Rus­sel Wal­lace pro­posed a the­o­ry of bio­log­i­cal evo­lu­tion by nat­ur­al selec­tion simul­ta­ne­ous­ly with Dar­win. How­ev­er, Dar­win not only stat­ed a the­o­ry, he mar­shaled an irre­sistible dis­play of evi­dence in its favor, gath­ered by decades of patient obser­va­tion, and in so doing estab­lished the legit­i­ma­cy of his­tor­i­cal sci­ences. No oth­er sci­en­tif­ic idea has so rad­i­cal­ly altered our under­stand­ing of our­selves. This is the great Dar­win­ian truth: We are not lords of the uni­verse, plunked down into a gar­den estab­lished for our ben­e­fit, to be used or despoiled at our plea­sure. We are flow­ers of the gar­den, inex­tri­ca­bly part of the seam­less web of life.

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