4
Attitude of the Press
It was now clear to me beyond question that what for some time I had suspected was an established fact: the matter had taken on an entirely new character. Controversy in scientific matters is, of course, a commonplace; it is the means by which science progresses. Differing views are advanced and debated until agreement is reached or experiment closes the discussion. The twin paradox, for example, began its course more than half a century ago with a discussion between leading workers then in the field, and in the latest revival those most prominently concerned with the subject freely expressed their opposing views, and that not only in technical journals but through more popular media also. In all parts of the world various aspects of the problem were presented, and it was hard to find anyone who had written on relativity at any level of sophistication who had not made his contribution to the general exchange.
But when the validity of special relativity itself was called in question there was a sudden change. Almost all the leaders in the subject relapsed into silence. Among the younger physicists, however, the reaction increased tenfold, as Mr. Brimble, then editor of Nature, indicated (p. 39) and my private postbag confirmed only too embarrassingly. I did, indeed, receive a number of replies to personal letters from some of the recognised authorities, dissenting for various incompatible reasons from my conclusion, but with very few exceptions, which will transpire in due course, none of these correspondents was willing, as Max Born had been, to publish what he was ready to assert privately. As but one example, Professor G. Temple, of Oxford, who had shortly before written in a book: 'Much as I should like to disprove the special theory of relativity, and in spite of the many years I have given to this task, I have to admit I cannot find any flaw in the evidence'1, after offering a plainly evasive answer, refused to publish it because, as he said, 'I do not wish to damage your reputation.' Nowhere in the published literature of the subject can one find any answer at all to the simple question posed on p. 45).
This, as I say, radically changed the situation, and that in two ways. In the first place, it was a direct violation of the fundamental ethical principle of science, expressed in Dale's statement (p. 23) that no anomaly shall be neglected and that nature's answers shall be given to the world with an unflinching fidelity. Nature's answer to the anomaly which I had pointed out could not by any means be brought to the knowledge of the world, although nature's recognised spokesmen in this matter claimed to know her answer (or rather answers, for there was little agreement among them) with confidence when writing privately or anonymously. And, in the second place, the matter was not one of academic interest only, but one that vitally concerned the safety of the whole population. Since I was the unintentional medium through which these things had declared themselves, and the sole possessor of the full evidence for their actuality, there was laid on me a double duty, which I would most willingly have escaped if I could have done so without dishonour, but from which no such escape was possible. As a scientist I was bound to do all I could to restore the obedience of scientists to their basic ethical obligations; as a citizen I was bound to do all I could to prevent a possible public disaster arising from the neglect of those obligations. I therefore, on 9 August 1966, submitted the following letter to Nature for publication. (Concerning the second point, I had already written to some of the more serious daily and weekly journals, calling attention to the need for scientists to give evidence that would carry conviction to the public that its interests were safeguarded, but, understandably, it was considered that the matter was more suitable for a scientific medium since it would almost inevitably develop into a discussion beyond the understanding of the general reader):
To the Editor of Nature. Sir,
SPECIAL THEORY OF RELATIVITY
More than four years ago*1 I gave in Nature, as the culmination of several similar efforts, a simple proof that the special relativity theory is untenable. This received only one reply from an acknowledged authority, namely, Professor Max Born*1 who, unfortunately, as he himself said, assumed that I had expressed myself badly, and replied to what he thought I had meant to say. My assurance that what I had meant was what I had said*2 has remained unnoticed.
In the meantime continuous efforts have been made, by others, to get this disproof of the theory either refuted or accepted, and myself but without success. Many authorities have been approached personally, but, among the surprising variety of incompatible comments, there is none that its author will consent to publish.
The argument is extremely simple and fully understandable without specialised knowledge. To compare the rates of two regularly running clocks, A and B, we must find the interval recorded by one for a given interval by the other. It is immaterial which is taken as the standard: if A records 2 hrs for an interval of 1 hr by B, then A works twice as fast as B, and B must record 1/2 hr for an interval of 1 hr by A. If the docks are in relative motion, however, they cannot be together throughout the interval, so if we remain with B to observe its readings, we can determine those of A only by means of a theory. The special relativity theory purports to serve this purpose, and Einstein so used it**3, thereby calculating that (for a particular velocity of separation) A would record 2 hrs while B was observed to record 1 hr. He concluded that A worked twice as fast as B, and this result is universally accepted as the unique solution of the problem. He did not calculate the interval by B for an observed interval of 1 hr by A, but when we do so, by the same theory, we find it to be not 1/2 hr but 2 hrs, showing that B works twice as fast as A. The same theory thus requires each clock to work twice as fast as the other, which is contradictory. The necessary conclusion is that that theory must be wrong.
The importance of this result, if valid, is obvious and profound, and it is not in accordance with the ethical principles of science that its refutation or acceptance should be strenuously withheld over so long a time, while the theory continues to be acted upon as though it were unquestioned. The ethical requirement is in this case greatly reinforced by the consideration that the theory is so intimately involved in the whole of fundamental physics that, if it is indeed false and that fact is left to be revealed by the failure of some experiment in which its truth is assumed, the physical consequences may be incalculably disastrous. However, if those individual scientists who might have been expected to comment publicly on the matter do not recognise the moral obligation to do so, I know of no effective pressure that can be brought to bear on them.
The Royal Society, on the other hand, not only has honourable traditions to maintain but is a public body, supported by public funds, and therefore with undeniable responsibility to the public. Accordingly, an elaboration of the above argument, with a discussion of its implications, was submitted to the Royal Society for publication. It was rejected on the report of an anonymous referee who wrote: 'In some cases of this type publication might still be justified because the alleged objections and the arguments which have to be used to deal with them may be instructive. However, in the present case the fallacy is so elementary that I must recommend the rejection of the paper.' It appears, then, that the Royal Society is satisfied that the above argument is fallacious, but the nature of the allegedly obvious fallacy is tenaciously withheld from view.
I write this letter, as a member of the public and as spokesman for those who have expressed to me their grave misgiving at the state in which this matter now stands, to request that the Royal Society shall publish in Nature a statement of the fallacy in the argument expressed in my letter in this journal and summarised above; or, alternatively, acknowledge that there is in fact no fallacy and therefore that the special relativity theory can no longer safely be used as the basis for dangerous experiments.
It is within the competence of every reader of this letter, physicist or not, to see that there are only two ways in which this disproof of the theory can be refuted. It must be shown either (1) that it is permissible to determine the rate-ratio of two uniformly running clocks by calculating the interval by A corresponding to an observed interval by B, but not by calculating the interval by B corresponding to an observed interval by A; and in that case it must be shown how, in a particular instance, one determines, consistently with the theory, which clock is A and which is B; or (2) that there is an algebraical error in the second calculation (like the first, a direct deduction from the Lorentz transformation) that does not invalidate the first. If there is a fallacy in the argument, the referee's description of it as 'elementary' is an understatement, and any presentation of it that does not show one of these things, or transforms it into something expressible only in comparatively recondite terms, would be if so facto a clear indication that the point was not being met.
We are now at the beginning of an era in which the physical safety of the public is, and will increasingly be, in the hands of scientists whose activities are beyond general understanding or control. In such circumstances it is more than ever necessary that scientific integrity shall be both preserved and seen to be preserved.
Herbert Dingle
After nearly four months I received from the editor, Mr. John Maddox, the following reply:
I am sorry that there has been a delay in dealing with your manuscript, but you will appreciate that it is a particularly difficult one.
I am writing to say that I would not be prepared to let you issue a challenge to the Royal Society and its referees in Nature. You will, I hope, realize that what other journals do is not usually our business.
As to the argument that you restate about the special relativity theory, I should not be averse to publishing a letter from you saying more or less what you do on the first page of the manuscript which I am returning to you. I realize that you may not think this worth while, given that you have made the point before, but I shall look forward to hearing from you.
Some correspondence ensued between Mr. Maddox and me, in which I tried to persuade him of the need for the publication of my letter, but the net result was nothing at all: I was at liberty to say again what I had said many times, in public and in private, with no effect, but the actions of the Royal Society were, without any qualification, not open to questioning in Nature.
It appeared to me impossible to reconcile the principles on which the Royal Society was founded with its refusal to make public a piece of pure scientific knowledge - namely, the fallacy in my argument, which it had accepted, on the authority of its chosen referees, as established - and with its exemption from questioning in the leading scientific journal. It appeared equally impossible to reconcile the attitude of the editor of Nature with the principles on which the journal Nature was founded, of which I could claim to know something since I had written the Life of its founder and editor for its first fifty years. Sir Norman Lockyer, and examined the correspondence and other papers that recorded its original purpose, and had also worked in close association with Lockyer's successor for the next twenty years, Sir Richard Gregory, who had maintained its ideals and made the journal available for any inquiry, of no matter what person or organisation, that was directed towards the advancement and dissemination of scientific knowledge. Again, therefore, I was faced by the same two intolerable abuses, as they seemed to me - one of the functions of the Royal Society and the other of that of the scientific press. To deal with the former the proper course seemed to be a direct appeal to the Fellows of the Royal Society to consider what their Fellowship required of them in these circumstances, while for the latter there existed the Press Council, one of whose terms of reference was 'To keep under review developments likely to restrict the supply of information of public interest and importance'. Though my approach to the Royal Society slightly preceded that to the Press Council, I record the latter first since the other had a lengthy sequel, which it will be more convenient to relate without interruption.
On 29 June 1968 I sent a letter to the Press Council of which, in order to indicate as clearly as possible the nature of my inquiry, I quote the most relevant parts. I began:
I wish to bring to the notice of the Press Council a matter concerning the scientific journal. Nature, and to ask for its help in rectifying a potentially dangerous situation. Although of necessity technical questions are involved, the point here raised is quite independent of them and requires no decision to be made on such questions or any consideration given to them; it is entirely a matter of the ethics of journalism in circumstances of great public importance which I shall describe. I shall be as brief and clear as I can, but a statement of considerable length is unavoidable. The whole controversy, of which I select here only those aspects that are related to the functions of the Press Council, has been proceeding for nearly ten years and has involved scientists all over the world, so it will be understood that, in order not to mislead, I must place brevity second to clarity.
I wish also to emphasize that, although there are details of the matter in which I think I should have personal ground for complaint against the present editor, Mr. John Maddox, I am here making no such complaint: my charge is entirely that his actions, and the principles underlying his conduct of the journal, constitute a grave public danger. The present relation of scientific research to public safety is such as to demand complete integrity on the part of scientists, and when there is reason to believe that this is not being preserved, the Press (naturally the scientific Press, of which Nature is the acknowledged leading representative, since general journals could not be expected to open their columns to discussions in which highly technical matters might intrude) is the only medium through which the situation can be examined and, if necessary, adjusted. The question at issue here was launched in Nature (following preliminary publication elsewhere) nearly six years, ago, and has there proceeded too far for another journal to be asked to take it over in the event of Nature failing to pursue it, so unavoidably the responsibility for reaching a definite conclusion lies with that journal. My indictment is that it has not discharged that responsibility, and gives no sign of doing so.
This failure manifests itself in three ways, which I will first briefly indicate and then elaborate, (1) The editor refuses to allow, and will give no reason for not allowing, the Royal Society to be asked in Nature to publish knowledge of outstanding scientific importance, having momentous public implications (but not in the least involving matters of secrecy in any sense at all), which it claims to possess and acts upon. (2) He has, in a leading article, charged me with acting 'immodestly' in questioning the integrity of scientists who persistently refuse to answer informed criticism but proceed with their experiments as though the criticism had not been made, and - although his statement is too obscure to convey a precise meaning - gives a strong impression that one's duty in such circumstances, no matter how convinced one may be that a serious error is being made, is to remain silent and, in effect, admit the unauthenticated infallibility of the majority. This is a new and very dangerous principle in scientific ethics. Furthermore, my reply to this leading article has been refused publication, and still - nine months later - no comment on it from me has appeared or has any prospect of appearing. (3) He has persistently refrained from publishing letters - by others as well as me - which have a direct bearing on the point at issue, and has sought to justify repeated postponements by a series of excuses which, however regarded, can have no respectable explanation.
I then gave details, the more important of which have already been, or will be, recorded here, and my account included the statement: 'The point which I submit for consideration by the Press Council is thus perfectly clear and free from complications: Is it proper for the Royal Society to be exempt from questioning in the Press when there is reason to believe that it is pursuing a policy attended by risk of grave public danger?'
[With regard to item (2) in the third paragraph of this passage, concerning the editor's leading article, I should here interpose an explanation made necessary by the slight departure from chronological order in my account, which I have already mentioned and which I regret, but it seems the least of the evils which a condensed statement of a very complicated matter necessitates. The leading article which appeared in Nature of 14 October 1967 (the circumstances of its appearance are explained later - p. 74) is reproduced in the Appendix, and my reference is to its last paragraph. At the end of my article of 6 January 1968 dealing with McCrea's reply to me (also reproduced in the Appendix), as it was submitted to Nature, I wrote the following passage:
The position must be clearly understood. Here is a challenge to a theory that not only, as Nature says, 'in spirit as well as in detail has come to pervade the whole of modern physics', but also has the deepest implications for general philosophic thought and public safety. The first painfully extracted response (Born) misread it as an undergraduate's error and missed the point. The second, still more painfully extracted, response (McCrea) has misread it as an idiot's error, and also misses the point. If it be regarded as possible that I wrote not wholly unintelligently and from knowledge, not ignorance, I do not think the statement in the preceding paragraph allows of any misreading that is not deliberately sought. I await a third response.
'There is an even graver aspect of the matter than that immediately evident. It has long been an accepted principle in science, abundantly exemplified by a former editor of Nature, the late Sir Richard Gregory, in his book, Discovery: the Spirit and Service of Science, that all theories, however well established, shall be kept in constant scrutiny, subjected to every possible criticism, and abandoned as possible representations of truth as soon as criticism shows them to be untenable. My ample correspondence reveals a growing suspicion (it is far from being mine alone) that the protracted reticence of all authorities on my criticism of special relativity shows that this principle no longer operates; that although formally acknowledged to have been useful when applied to the false theories of the past, it is now discarded since relativity theory is final truth. This suspicion is now confirmed by Nature, which holds it 'immodest' to press a criticism proved by long neglect to be negligible. If this represents the actual guiding principle of modern scientists, the fact cannot be too widely publicised, so that steps may be taken to curb the activities of those who, embracing this revised scientific morality, hold the lives of the population in their hands.
Nevertheless, I am still unwilling finally to conclude that, among those scientists of repute who are able to speak with understanding of special relativity - a far larger number than those few generally regarded as 'specialists' — there is not one who still rates loyalty to truth above that due to the opinions of the moment, to his own past statements and present intuitive expectations, and to all personal considerations of whatever kind, and who has the candour and the courage to face this criticism directly, without looking askance for paths of possible circumambulation. If there be such a one, he will recognise his duty in these circumstances, and either clearly show where this criticism is at fault or else unreservedly express his acceptance of it. If this is not done, the experimental revelation of the failure of the theory, which is unlikely now to be long delayed, will dart a fierce light on the state of current science, and the reaction to what it shows will not be pleasant.
However, three days before the appearance of this article, which had been with the editor for several weeks, he rang me up and said that he did not intend to print this passage, and asked me to dictate to a clerk, on the telephone within a few hours, a statement of equal length dealing with some relatively trivial points that other correspondents had raised. Under protest, and relying on his assurance that I should be given an opportunity later to criticise his article, I dictated the statement asked for (which may be seen in Nature, though I have omitted it here for reasons which will be obvious), and, since there was no time for proof corrections, it appeared in Nature with a number of errors, some of which made it nonsensical. The editor promised to correct these, which he did some weeks after his promise, but the correction is most unlikely to be seen by anyone trying to follow the controversy. I was never given the promised opportunity to comment on the editorial. I record this, not in order to exemplify the pinpricks received in the course of my dealings with Mr. Maddox, but because it is necessary to explain my reference to the more serious aspect of the matter which I reported to the Press Council.]
To my letter to the Press Council I received a' courteous reply, asking certain pertinent questions but giving the impression that the nature of my request had not been fully appreciated. I therefore replied as follows:
I thank you for your letter of July 15 regarding my controversy with Nature. I appreciate the interest shown by your comments, and will do my best to answer the questions you raise.
Before coming to the specific points, however, I want to make quite clear the nature of my application to the Press Council, because some of your remarks - forgive me if I have misinterpreted them - seem more appropriate to a personal controversy between a plaintiff and a defendant than to the description of a situation of great danger which I hope the Press Council will be able to relieve. The new scientific age has unavoidably made public safety dependent on the incomprehensible and uncontrollable activities of scientists, who have therefore now an additional obligation to preserve the utmost integrity in their work. If there is reason to suspect that they are not doing so, and thereby risking a disaster, the public has an unquestionable right to assurance that the suspicion is unfounded or, otherwise, that its cause shall be removed, and its only medium for obtaining such assurance is the scientific Press, of which Nature is the acknowledged head. What I am bringing to the notice of the Press Council is evidence that Nature does not measure up to the demands of this situation, and I ask for its assistance in an effort to see that it does so - first, by facilitating instead of consistently opposing the attainment of a solution of the relativity problem, which is immeasurably important in itself, and next, and more generally, by awakening to the responsibilities that lie on it so that such cases as this shall not recur. But I seek no reprisals for anything that has already happened (except, of course, such as may be involved in whatever action the Press Council may think necessary to produce the desired result), and nothing would please me more than to co-operate with the editor in bringing out the truth in this relativity matter, whatever it may be, as clearly and speedily as possible. I think you will see from the enclosed correspondence with him, to which I shall refer later, that I have done my best to secure such co-operation, but without success. The purpose of what I have written, and shall write here, is therefore solely to establish, as convincingly as I can, the fact of the editor's shortcomings, for the purpose of terminating and not seeking redress for them.
I then answered the specific questions put to me, but since the letter I had received, as well as its envelope, had been marked CONFIDENTIAL in underlined capital letters, I thought it necessary to conclude with the following paragraphs:
I hope I have now met the points you raise, but if there is any further information that I can give, I shall be most pleased to give it. There is one thing, however, that I should say in conclusion. Your letter is marked 'Confidential', and I shall of course respect that request as far as it is possible to do so. But throughout this controversy I have not written or consented to receive any letters confidentially in an absolute sense, and if the Press Council should be unable to help in getting the existing situation rectified, which I sincerely trust will not be the case, I shall be compelled to take other measures which may involve the publication of the whole story in a book, in which case I must hold myself free to publish the whole or any part of this correspondence if necessary. I am convinced that the public has an inalienable right to know the danger in which it will stand if all normal agencies for its protection fail it, and therefore I cannot commit myself to any promise that may limit my power of enlightening it.
I deeply regret any minatory aspect that this may appear to wear, which would be wholly foreign to my intention, but it would not be right not to make my position perfectly clear before there is any further risk of my being entrusted with confidences that I might not be able to honour. My aim throughout this business has been to produce the right result with the minimum of sensation, using normal channels whenever they are open and seeking abnormal ones only through necessity. I think my long letter to Mr. Maddox will confirm this. That I shall continue to do, but the end is so important that I cannot neglect whatever means may need to be employed.
This concluding statement, whose character the reader will be able to judge for himself, appeared to have driven from the mind of the Assistant Secretary of the Press Council, who shortly afterwards became its Secretary, all other aspects of the matter, for the complete reply which I promptly received was as follows:
I acknowledge receipt of your letter of 19 Jul 68 in connection with your complaint against Nature.
I note with regret the concluding paragraphs of your letter and must inform you that the Council adopts certain rules in the conduct of its inquiries in the interests of the parties concerned. It expects correspondents seeking its assistance to honour those rules and it will not, except in most exceptional circumstances, permit the publication of its letters, the copyright of which remains vested in the Council.
In the circumstances I do not feel I can correspond with you further but will submit the matter as it stands to the consideration of the Council's Complaints Committee.
It would be tedious to give the whole of the ensuing exchanges; I proceed to my letter of 15 August, by which time I had found it necessary to put specific questions to avoid, as I hoped, further misinterpretations of my inquiry; the most pertinent of these questions was the following:
In the view of the Press Council, is it proper that the actions of the Royal Society, in the present state of the relations between those actions and the public interest, shall be unconditionally exempt from questioning in the Press, as is implied by the following unqualified statement by the editor of Nature: 'I would not be prepared to let you issue a challenge to the Royal Society... in Nature.'?
The complete reply to this, dated 9 September 1968, was:
Your letter of 15 August 68 has been carefully considered by my Council's General Purposes Committee and I am instructed to tell you that the finding in your complaint was that the Editor of Nature had not contravened his ethical duty. There was, therefore, no substantial case within the Council's purview, to send forward to the Council for adjudication.
No reference was made to my questions.
The net result of this effort, then, was to bring to light the following facts, on which I make no comment but which I leave to the consideration of the reader:
(1) The actions of the Royal Society, no matter what evidence there may be of their potential public danger, are not open to informed questioning in the scientific press.
(2) It is not possible to submit to the Press Council an inquiry clearly coming within its terms of reference.
I pass now to my approach to Fellows of the Royal Society. It seemed appropriate to circularise them, giving an account of the situation, and inviting them to consider it in the light of their responsibilities as Fellows of the Society. Accordingly, on 9 June 1967, I sent the letter given below to about half the number (roughly to 300 Fellows). This restriction did not seem to me to reduce seriously what effect the circular might have, in view of the number involved (these were chosen largely at random and included scientists of all types, since it was the moral, and not the technical, aspect of the question that was being presented), and it had the advantage that, should it become necessary later to reveal the story, it would not be possible for anyone to conclude that any particular Fellow had reacted in any particular way to the circular, since he might not have received it. The circular was as follows:
To Fellows of the Royal Society.
Dear Fellow,
I enclose a copy of a letter, which I submitted to Nature on August 9 last. After four months it was refused publication on the sole ground that the editor would not allow the Royal Society to be 'challenged' in Nature. ('Challenge' is the editor's term for what will be seen to be a request for general enlightenment, which the Royal Society has privately declared itself able to provide, on a matter of great scientific and public importance). Repeated requests have failed to draw from him any justification of this decision; it is simply reiterated.
Two distinct aspects of this situation demand attention. In the first place, the facts that nothing will induce anyone to answer publicly a very simple disproof of the special relativity theory while in private or anonymously I am offered a variety of mutually contradictory answers all so palpably irrelevant that the reason for their authors' unwillingness to acknowledge them publicly is crystal clear - these facts admit of only one explanation. This disproof of special relativity is so plainly conclusive that no one guided by reason can doubt it; but also it is so unexpected that no one guided by prejudice can believe it. Those called upon to comment therefore cannot produce a refutation, but fear that, if they accept the disproof, someone will discover a flaw, which has escaped them and their incapacity will be exposed; hence they keep silent. No other explanation is consistent with the abundant evidence which I possess, but no such evidence is needed to confirm that there can be no respectable origin of more than eight years' unyielding refusal to meet publicly a simple and repeatedly published criticism of one of the most fundamental principles of modern physics. To the hazards attending this covert apostasy its practitioners seem indifferent.
The second aspect of the situation is this. From now onwards scientists will control the physical safety of the population to a degree never before attained by any man or body of men, since their free and potentially catastrophic activities are tar too abstruse for general understanding. Without complete prohibition of scientific research, the public is thus compelled to trust implicitly in the integrity of scientists, and it has therefore an undeniable right to assurance that integrity is being maintained. Its only medium for such assurance is the scientific press; the general press (as I know, since I have approached both daily and weekly journals) quite understandably considers itself unsuited to this purpose, since the raising of such matters there would almost certainly generate discussion beyond the understanding of most readers. In these circumstances the arbitrary withdrawal of Nature from an inquiry which it has accepted as legitimate until addressed to the one body obliged to answer it removes from the potential victims of scientific research their only remaining safeguard. The Royal Society, the supreme scientific body in this country, can freely violate its foundation principles (as in fact it is doing) and the public, whose servant it is, cannot question it, however clearly the abuse may be perceived and established. Such are the spirit and the conditions in which scientists, in this country at least, assume the responsibilities, which the new scientific age lays upon them.
This state of affairs seems to me so intolerable that no effort should be spared to rectify it. Every attempt to do so which I have made over the years - and such attempts are far too many and various to be recounted here - has met with frustration; those directly involved will do nothing, and others, to whom the facts have to be related, find them incredible and dismiss them as unreal. I can now see only one way open to a non-Fellow of the Royal Society. The President of the Society is fully aware of all these circumstances and is satisfied that they are in right ordering. I believe that this satisfaction would not be shared by the public if they knew the actual state of things, and the only means remaining to me of informing them is to make such open charges against the President as will compel him to sue me for libel, whereupon, withholding nothing, I shall be able to expose a situation that would profoundly shock those holding the popular belief in the disinterestedness of scientific research. I do not overlook the probable consequences, both immediate and by repercussion, of such action, and for various reasons, both personal and general, I would do anything possible honourably to avoid it, but since the only alternative that has now been left to me is passive acquiescence in a course of degradation which, if unchecked, must eventually lead to moral and physical disaster, I have no real choice.
Fellows of the Royal Society, however, have a right, not possessed by me, of requiring that they shall not be unconsciously implicated in behaviour incompatible with the ideals of the Society to which they belong and shall not unwittingly be the subjects of whatever indictment may become necessary. I write this letter, therefore, in the hope that there are Fellows who hold that the purpose of the Royal Society is still to seek and to make known the truth in scientific matters and that its manner of fulfilling that purpose should be such as not to need concealment behind a screen provided by the editor of Nature. If such a Fellow is prepared to see that the Royal Society causes to be published in Nature, in reply to my letters long remaining unanswered there, either (a) an authoritative statement, expressed in terms intelligible to anyone who can understand the letter herewith enclosed, of the elementary fallacy which it has accepted as invalidating my disproof of special relativity; or (b) an authoritative acknowledgement that the theory is now proved untenable and can no longer safely be used in theoretical investigations or dangerous experiments - I shall be grateful if he or she will so inform me within a month. In that case I shall most happily abandon the intention I have indicated, which otherwise will become a compelling duty. Yours sincerely,
Herbert Dingle
To this circular I received twelve replies. Eleven of them ranged in type from (these, of course, are not literal quotations) 'Dear, dear; this is really too bad' to 'My dear fellow, you don't understand that it is not the function of the Royal Society to concern itself with such matters as this'. Only one Fellow (Dr. D. G. King-Hele) felt that his Fellowship of the Society obliged him to do something about it, and through his instrumentation at last one mathematician (Professor W. H. McCrea) was induced to agree to reply in Nature to an article of mine setting out afresh my criticism of the theory, and the editor of Nature was induced to publish the discussion. It appeared in Nature of 14 October 1967, together with a leading article entitled 'Don't Bring Back the Ether', in which the editor's view of the controversy was set out. By kind permission of Professor McCrea and the publishers of Nature, Messrs. Macmillan, the discussion and the editorial are given in the Appendix.
I shall describe presently the course of this controversy, but it would be unjust to leave the eleven unfruitful replies without mention of the most significant of them, which came from Sir Robert Robinson, a former President of the Society, whose efforts in the matter I have already mentioned. He wrote me on 25 July 1967 a letter from which I quote the following:
As you know, I am very sympathetic to you in the trouble you experience in getting physicists to discuss your views, but I am not myself competent to assess the rights and wrongs of the scientific aspect of the case.
I do not find in your letter any clear statement of the nature of the dangers, which you imagine, might follow the use of the special theory of relativity. You say the possibility of danger is vividly real to you and yet I cannot find in your letter, or in anything you have written, a clear statement of the nature of the danger you anticipate... unless you can clearly lay down the nature of the anticipated dangers, the possibility remains that you are 'starting at a shadow'.
In regard to the Royal Society and its Fellows, I am quite clear that the Royal Society has, from the beginning, refused to make any pronouncement on any matters of scientific fact or theory, but I do not think that the relegation of such functions to individual Fellows can imply any control or direction of their efforts. If the Royal Society exercises pressure on the Fellows, it would be tantamount to an expression of opinion. I think your whole attitude to the R.S. and to its Fellows is somewhat misconceived. The general body of physicists should be involved and not merely those who happen to be members of a particular Academy.
On the matter of specifying the danger involved, I can only say that if this could be foreseen, steps could be taken to prevent it, but since we know only of what character this might be, it seems wiser to start at the shadow than passively to await the arrival of the substance casting it. However, the point at the moment is the view taken by so eminent an authority as, one of its former Presidents of the function of the Royal Society in such a matter as this. He agrees that it is the duty of 'the general body of physicists' to meet my criticism, but he gives me no guidance as to how to get them to do so: he says only that it cannot be done through 'a particular Academy' of which they are members, and it certainly cannot be done by bringing the laws of the country to bear on them individually, or, as we have seen, by the Press, scientific or general. The position, therefore, is that, on this view, the Royal Society has no responsibility for seeing that its members respect the principles on which it was founded and for conformity to which the public supports and trusts the Society. I need not express my view on this, but it is necessary that the public should know exactly where it stands, and that it is supporting a body which is free to sponsor operations, potentially of the greatest danger, without responsibility for seeing that its members act in accordance with its basic principles or with any regard at all to what is acknowledged to be their duty as scientists. How, in fact, the Society does regard the behaviour of its Fellows is shown indirectly by the response to my circular and directly by the reply of its President to the request for assurance that scientific integrity is still preserved (p. 100).
However, let us return to the one positive result of my circular - the discussion in Nature. Slight as this response was in comparison with the needs of the case as I saw them, the resumption of the matter in Nature did, to my great satisfaction, relieve me from the course which, at the time of writing the circular, seemed my only means of informing the public of facts which I considered it was imperative it should know. The grounds on which I should have used this means will, I think, be clear enough when I have described the attitude of the then President of the Royal Society to the situation. The Nature articles stimulated some correspondence in which, as ever, the leading 'mathematicians' (with one conspicuous exception to be mentioned immediately) refrained from engaging, though a few of the 'experimenters' took part. The exceptional mathematician was Professor J. L. Synge, of the Dublin Institute of Advanced Studies, who is by common consent one of the leading authorities on the mathematical side of the theory and advocates of it. I had previously been engaged in private correspondence with him, during which I succeeded in convincing him that I had made no mathematical error or misunderstood the mathematical requirements of the theory, though we could not agree on the vital question of its physical validity. For that reason I thought it best not to accept his first proposal - that we should write a joint letter to Nature, stating our agreement on the point at issue and adding that we differed on how it was to be resolved. This I considered would leave the matter in the air, and I suggested that instead he should write, stating where we agreed and giving his reasons for our divergence at that point. This would be a great step forward, for it would eliminate all the irrele-vancies that our correspondence had cleared away but which other correspondents continued to pour in, and would enable me to give my line of advance from our common standpoint — not doubting that I should be permitted to do so. To this he kindly consented, and on 13 March 1968 he sent the following letter to Nature, which was published several months later:2
As the result of a lengthy correspondence with Professor Dingle, I am of the opinion that the contradiction described by him in Nature 216 (1967), p. 119 is due to the incompatibility of (a) the concepts used in the special theory of relativity as ordinarily understood, and
(b) the_concept of clocks that run regularly, as understood by Professor DingIe.
I believe that Professor Dingle agrees that this is a correct diagnosis of the cause of the contradiction. To resolve it, one must abandon either (a) or (b). Since (b), as elucidated in our corre spondence, is equivalent to Newton's concept of absolute time, and since relativistic physics appears to me to represent nature more closely than Newtonian physics does, I cast my vote for the abandonment of (b) and the retention of (a).
Now I think it is clear that this opened the way to a final solution, for my conception of a regularly-running clock was that generally accepted in physics, my only relevant demand of it here being that one such clock should not be able to run steadily both faster and slower than another. I did not think it likely that this would be disputed, and if not, then, according to Synge's own statement, the special theory of relativity would have to be abandoned. I wrote at once to Nature, feeling that the long drawn out controversy was at last about to be ended. I was wrong: my reply was not published, and still, more than three years later, it remains unpublished, despite requests to the editor for it from various sources, some of which will be mentioned in due course. Meanwhile, the special theory of relativity continues to be used as though it had never been questioned.
In retrospect I think I made a tactical error in unduly lengthening my reply with an explanation of why, in my view, the Newtonian and relativistic concepts of time had nothing to do with the matter (these concepts are dealt with more fully in Part Two of this book), but that is a small point. If the editor of Nature had been concerned only to reach the truth of the matter, his failure to publish my reply is to me inexplicable. He did not close the correspondence. He continued to publish other contributions from lesser authorities than Synge in general estimation, re-introducing the side-issues that Synge and I had cleared away; he wrote to me that he had tried unsuccessfully to get Professor Bondi and some Americans to enter the lists; he asked my opinion as to whether he should seek X's view (X was a writer on relativity, not comparable in standing with Synge, who had shortly before sent me 21 foolscap pages of mathematics having nothing to do with the matter); he sent me several letters on relativity (though not on this controversy) that had been submitted for publication, asking me to report on their suitability and apparently acting on my reports; but the one essential thing that he would not do, or explain why he would not do, was to publish my reply to Synge. Inevitably, readers of Nature, unaware of all this, concluded that I had no reply to make, and, as we shall see later in connection with a correspondence in the Listener, I was chided for my neglect.
I should not leave this question without mentioning a sequel which has a significant bearing on a point which I have already mentioned and shall deal with more fully later, which I think lies at the heart of this strange matter - the misconception that is rife concerning the relation of mathematics to physics. When I sent my letter to Nature I sent a copy of it to Synge, and a few weeks later he replied as follows:
It is on my conscience that I have not acknowledged your letter of 19 September, enclosing copy of your letter to Nature. I could not decide whether to pursue the argument with you or let the matter drop, leaving the last word to you.
But just yesterday I had a thought. What if Dingle is pulling the leg of the world? It is to me the most reasonable hypothesis to explain what is otherwise inexplicable to me. Knowing you as well as I do (and I know you much better after our recent correspondence), I cannot bring myself to believe that you are as stupid as you make yourself out to be. If my hypothesis is correct, I salute your sense of humour. No harm has been done. Printers have had good employment. My humiliation in having been taken in is swallowed up in my admiration at the way you have put the thing across.
You will of course deny the truth of my hypothesis. Or will you ? Within the range of semantic tolerance, the term 'leg-pulling' may have many interpretations.
I replied, of course, that I was in anything but a hoaxing mood, but the significant thing to my mind is that a man of Synge's undoubted mental power was so perplexed by the whole business that he could not answer his question himself. If I was indeed hoaxing, then I might be expected to deceive a beginner or an incompetent thinker or an ignoramus, but a man of Synge's calibre and long years of study of the theory should have been able to see through it at once:
instead, he not only could not sec through it, but could not see whether it was indeed a hoax or not. This is to my mind an outstanding example of the stranglehold that the misconception of the function of mathematics in physics (see Chapter 6) has acquired on the minds of the leaders in physical science. It is not now very new. It was evident to me a third of a century ago, and in Nature of 12 June 1937, in an article which I shall mention later, I wrote:
How many physicists to-day feel confident that they can read a statement concerning our ordinary everyday consciousness of time, for example, and say, not whether it is true or false, but even whether it is sensible or nonsensical, a serious idea or a clever hoax ?
I did not then anticipate the form which this perversion of the intellect would take so far ahead, but it would not have surprised me if a crystal ball had then given me foreknowledge of Synge's letter.
To resume the story, however, it is necessary to interrupt the account of Nature's concern with it to recount other journalistic aspects of the controversy, through one of which Nature again became involved. While this matter was proceeding, but quite independently, I received a letter from New Scientist, inviting me to contribute 'freely' to a scries of articles about 'possible future developments in science and technology, particularly those likely to have substantial effects on society'. 'We give our contributors,' they wrote, no formal brief whatever other than that they should discuss and speculate on any trends or developments in science, the future effects of which they find worrying, exciting or intriguing in some way.'
I welcomed this as a means (as I thought) for me to inform the public, with a minimum of exposure of the more seamy side of the matter, of the facts of which I considered they had such an undeniable right to be informed, so I at once sent in an account of the general position, as I have described it here — with, of course, in accordance with the terms of the invitation as I understood them, special reference to the danger inherent in the existing attitude of scientists to criticism of their theories, the possible consequences if those theories were misconceived, and the closure of the Press (other, of course, than New Scientist) to all questioning of the activities of those possessing such power. It appeared, however, that I had misunderstood what I had been asked to do. After five weeks I received a letter from the journal, returning my article and, after some purely scientific comments, proceeding:
I do, however, appreciate that if your ideas are correct they are a matter of no little significance. But they have now been subjected to some discussion in Nature, a journal of more learned standing than ours, and have not, apparently, succeeded in convincing experts who are far better equipped to assess them than ourselves. Because New Scientist has no system for refereeing contributions we are always reluctant to champion points of view which, for technical reasons, we cannot evaluate. I agree that your treatment at the hands of the Royal Society and Nature appears tardy and that both should certainly be accountable to the public. However, I would take issue over the third point of your summary: 'refutation' of a theory surely depends on the consensus of scientific opinion? Professor McCrea has pointed out what he considers to be the fallacy in your disproof. May not the absence of further reaction from the scientific world simply signify silent acquiescence with his explanation? After all, scientists are not known for loquacity.
That a simpler answer, fit for the man in the street, is not forthcoming may be, I feel, because relativity is too difficult an idea in itself.
I am sure I have written sufficient to.make it plain that we are not in a position to carry this issue any further, and I am therefore returning your article to you. I have certainly found it interesting reading, but I do not really fear oligarchy in the scientific world -too many of the things that matter are done outside the precincts of the scientific establishment and require the approval neither of the Royal Society nor Nature.
I leave it to the reader to contemplate this reply in relation to the terms of the unprompted invitation extended to me, and the view that ' "refutation" of a theory surely depends on the consensus of scientific opinion' in relation to Sir Henry Dale's somewhat different view, remarking only that, whatever the result of his contemplation, it is certainly New Scientist's view of the criterion by which theories should be judged that operates today.
Whether 'nature's answers', which will decide his fate, will be determined by 'the consensus of scientific opinion' is another matter, which also will bear contemplation.Several correspondents, including Professor Coulson and Dame Kathleen Lonsdale, had suggested that I should publish my criticism of the theory in the United States, where there might be a greater likelihood of its being considered with an open mind. I had not much hope of this, for English scientific journals of course circulate freely among American scientists, and I had in fact already made certain approaches there which had met with a similar response to that accorded to them in this country. However, it did at this stage, when I was able to put the essential point into a single brief question, seem worth while to put that question to American physicists directly, in case there was one among them who might agree with me that it deserved the very brief answer that would have sufficed. Accordingly, on 14 June 1969 I submitted the following short letter for publication in Science, the leading American journal devoted to general science:
For many years I have vainly sought from British scientists an answer to a very simple but profoundly important question: may I, through the courtesy of your columns, lay it before American physicists ?
Two exactly similar clocks, A and B, are in uniform relative motion. Einstein's special relativity theory requires (1) that the motion is wholly relative, i.e. it belongs no more to one dock than to the other; (2) that the clocks work at different rates, i.e. one works faster than the other. My question is: what, consistently with the theory, determines which clock works the faster?
There is no subtlety of terminology here. 'Rate' is Einstein's word (in translation, of course), and has never, in any other connection, called for explanation. No acceleration is involved, the whole process concerned occurring while the relative motion is uniform. I take an example to avoid ambiguity. Suppose the relative velocity is 161,000 miles a second. Then, according to the theory, the time according to one clock (A, say) between the readings i .0 and 2.0 o'clock of B is 2 hrs., so that A works twice as fast as B. This is a particular case of a general result obtained by Einstein in 1905 and universally accepted. But, similarly, the theory requires that the time according to B between the readings 1.0 and 2.0 o'clock of A is 2 hrs., so that B works twice as fast as A. (Einstein did not consider this case). These results are clearly contradictory.
My conclusion is that the theory must be false, since it demands that each of two clocks works faster than the other, which is impossible. Otherwise, something must determine which clock really works the faster. What is that something? I ask authorities on the subject either to identify it in terms intelligible to anyone who can understand the question, or else to acknowledge that the theory is false.
This is as momentous a question as any now facing physicists and the public generally. By common consent this theory is fundamental in modern physics, and not only profoundly affects our whole conception of world-structure and the nature of space and time, but also has the most serious implications for public safety. Modern experiments are such that, if based on false ideas, they must sooner or later produce unexpected results that might have tragic consequences for everyone. I therefore conceive it to be the duty of those whose pronouncements on the subject carry weight with high energy experimenters to answer this question as quickly, clearly and candidly as possible: I hope they will do so.
The letter, however, was rejected with the following brief note:
Thank you for your letter of 14 June.
We have consulted two distinguished physicists in this country who feel that your letter adds little to the discussion in Science of 1957-8.
Now this was clearly quite beside the point. It was an answer, not a question, that could alone add anything to any discussion, and this question could in any case bear no relation to whatever discussion the editor had in mind, for the question had not been asked in 1957-8. It is true that at that time there was a discussion in Science concerning the clock paradox (see chapter 9), but all who took part in that tacitly accepted the special relativity theory as valid, while the question now asked related only to its validity. Furthermore, even if the question had been answered in 1957-8 in Science, no one in all the recent controversy concerning it seemed to be aware of the fact, and it would seem obviously desirable that a leading scientific journal in possession of the knowledge that could end that controversy should publish the few lines needed to do so, even if it meant a repetition of what had appeared so long ago. Correspondence with the editor, however, produced no effect, and the letter was not published, nor was I informed privately what the answer was.
It would be both tedious and profitless to record other attempts to improve the situation through the medium of the Press that led to nothing: I pass to a most significant discussion in the Listener, which began with the publication there on 3 July 1969 of a broadcast talk of mine entitled 'Definitions and Realities', and the ensuing correspondence took a course that enabled me for the first time to make known certain aspects of the modern scientific movement that had been veiled so long in impenetrable obscurity, notwithstanding their vital relation to public welfare. I should like to pay tribute here to the Listener for allowing a freedom of discussion that I had not experienced elsewhere. The talk in question was concerned with a more general matter than the one with which we are here dealing, but it permitted - indeed, almost compelled - as a natural example
the substitution in modern physics of mathematical definitions for experiences, and the consequent mistaking of mathematical truths for physical ones which in my view invalidated the special relativity theory. Its publication in the Listener started a series of letters which continued until 30 October 1969 and was concentrated wholly on the relativity question. At once two correspondents took me to task (how many more did so, of course, I do not know, but the letters of two were published ih the same issue) for writing as I had done when I had failed to follow up in Nature 'the clarification which Professor Synge has achieved, to clinch the matter', as one put it. 'It seems to me,' wrote the other, 'it is Professor Dingle's clear duty to give an unambiguous answer.' This, of course, gave me the opportunity of explaining that my unambiguous answer clinching the matter had been languishing in Nature office (as it still does) for eleven months, and in the ensuing correspondence I was able to reveal other facts which have caused profound astonishment. I shall presently relate the more relevant consequences of this correspondence, but the only contributor whose letter calls for mention here is Professor McCrea, whom I have already mentioned in connection with the Nature discussion, and it is now convenient to revert to that before describing his letter in the Listener.Professor McCrea is among the most distinguished of mathematical workers in the field of relativity. Although we differ profoundly in our whole view of this matter (he and I had been at variance long before in the 'twin paradox' controversy, when I as well as he believed special relativity to be valid), I cannot with hold recognition of his almost unique courage, among those leaders in the subject who do not accept my criticism of the theory, in publishing his reasons for dissenting instead of hiding them behind a veil of anonymity or refusing to say openly what he writes in private: I wish I could extend to those reasons the respect I hold for his courage. However, as I have said, the one tangible result of my circular to the Royal Society Fellows was the discussion between him and me which is reproduced in the Appendix. I now add a few remarks for those whose technical equipment is insufficient for me to leave it to speak for itself.
The substance of my criticism, as I have already said, is that although the theory is mathematically sound, the relation which it postulates between the mathematical symbols and clock readings (and, by inference, the readings of length-measuring scales) requires that each of two relatively moving clocks works more slowly than the other, which is impossible. Einstein himself had shown that one of the clocks worked more slowly than the other, but had not shown how that clock could be identified. His demonstration was represented by equation (3) of my article, and equation (4), derived by an exactly similar argument, showed that the slower clock by (3) was the faster by (4). The relevant point of McCrea's answer - it contained much unnecessary mathematics — was that in my paraphrase of Einstein's (and correspondingly in my own) argument I had used the phrase, '[the clock] A must be held to read t1 at [the event] E1' - evidently, as the context shows, in the same sense as one might say 'the pavilion clock must read 6.30 at the drawing at stumps'. McCrea maintained that this rendered my argument 'meaningless' because 'A is not "at" E1' - as though the cricket rule was meaningless because the pavilion clock was not at the place where the stumps were to be drawn. Indeed, if this were a sound argument, it would clearly invalidate Einstein's argument as well as mine, and so discredit the theory in a different way; but I think no one could possibly have been misled by such a 'refutation' had it lot been embedded in a lengthy mathematical matrix, including a wholly unnecessary 'Minkowski space-time diagram' to prove the impossibility of A ever being at the event E1' and so playing upon :he innate conviction of most readers that the whole subject was a mystery comprehensible only to the mathematically initiated.
McCrea did not reply to my exposure of this device, but it served to 'convince' even Lord Blackett, as we shall see, that my criticism of the theory had been disposed of (pp. 99-100).
Naturally, in the Listener discussion I was careful to avoid the phrase that could be so misread, and instead (21 August, 1969) presented Einstein's proof from his theory that the readings of a clock P, passing along a row of relatively stationary synchronised clocks Q, fell steadily more and more behind those of the Q clocks as it went along. I then showed, in exactly the same way, that if P also was one of a row of relatively stationary synchronised clocks, each Q clock also must fall steadily behind the P clocks as it went along. Hence, as the motion progressed, every P clock was losing steadily with respect to the Q clocks, and vice versa. Einstein had not considered the second case, and so had not encountered the contradiction: he merely concluded, from the first alone, that P worked steadily slower than any arbitrarily selected Q clock, for the Q clocks, being synchronised, all worked at the same rate. In other words, we have the same result as before: two relatively moving clocks, P and Q, work at different rates, but the same reasoning that requires P to work more slowly than Q also requires Q to work more slowly than P.
McCrea's reply to this in the Listener (4 September 1969) was astonishing. He claimed that Einstein had never compared the rates of two relatively moving clocks: he had considered, said McCrea, only the case of one clock passing along a row of relatively stationary clocks, and shown that it fell steadily behind them, but had not inferred from this anything about the relative rates of one P and one Q clock. What he understood it to mean to say that the Q clocks were 'synchronised' he did not explain. 'The assertion,' he wrote, 'that, according to the theory, a moving clock appears to go slow ... is admissible, provided we remember that the statement concerns the behaviour of one clock (here called the moving clock) as compared with a set of clocks... Dingle's false step is that Dingle regards the situation treated by relativity as the symmetric comparison of one single clock with another identical single clock (in relative motion). This is not the situation... If we thus say that, according to relativity theory, a moving clock appears to go slow, then we are not making a symmetric comparison of one single clock with another single clock.'
It is hard to know what comment to make on this: even Mr. Maddox, the editor of Nature (who had based his editorial, given in the Appendix, on McCrea's quite different 'refutation' of my criticism) had to write to me, 'I agree with you that what McCrea said is mystifying'. That is hardly the word I should use, but ' 'tis enough, 'twill serve'. In my statement on p. 46 I have quoted Einstein's comparison of one equatorial with one polar clock, and if I were interested in relating instances of inconsistencies in McCrea's statements (which I am not; I am concerned only with the validity of the special relativity theory) I could quote similar comparisons of his own. But it would be unpardonable if I were not to quote a passage from Einstein and Infeld's book. The Evolution of Physics, which is so apt that it might have been written in anticipation of this misunderstanding by a reader unacquainted with the theory, for whom the book was written: they write, using 'C.S.' for 'coordinate systems':
When discussing measurements in classical mechanics, we used one clock for all C.S. Here we have many clocks in each C.S. This difference is unimportant. One clock was sufficient, but nobody could object to the use of many, so long as they behave as decent synchronised clocks should.'
'One clock was sufficient': they half apologise for introducing the set which, according to McCrea, is all that the theory is talking about.
The general import of all this may be summed up thus. McCrea and Synge are, by common consent, two of the leading mathematical authorities on relativity. McCrea has given two totally different 'refutations' of my criticism of special relativity and Synge a different one again. In none of these 'refutations' is there any answer to the question I put, that can be applied to Einstein's own examples such as that concerning the equatorial and polar clocks, yet without such an answer the theory is clearly false. My closing letter to the Listener (30 October) was as follows:
In closing this valuable discussion, may I, avoiding further controversy, state two indisputable and vitally important facts which it has elicited? 1. I have asked for an answer in one sentence to the question: What is it, on Einstein's theory, that distinguishes which of two similar relatively uniformly moving clocks lags behind the other (to use the translation of Einstein's own words) by an amount that increases regularly with time? Lorentz answered: its velocity through the ether, the faster moving clock working at the slower rate. Ritz answered: nothing, for there is no lag. Neither of these answers is possible to Einstein, and no one has told me of a substitute that is permitted by his theory, despite my repetition of the question and the fact that without an answer the theory is invalid.
2. In view of the widespread and growing disquiet at the continued use of Einstein's theory 'every day in the most dangerous operations yet devised by man', notwithstanding that the above question has been continually asked and remained unanswered for nearly n years, I asked the President of the Royal Society (Listener, 21 August) to reassure the public that this fact was consistent with the continued preservation of integrity among scientists. He has told me in a letter that he is not prepared to give such an assurance.
The last paragraph requires explanation. Before giving it, however, (see p. 100) I will record one more attempt to get the importance of this matter realized by scientists and a settlement of the question arrived at. It was made possible — or seemed to be — by the Presidential Address to Sections X and N of the British Association in 1970, on 'Some Pathologies of the Scientific Life', by Professor J. M. Ziman, F.R.S.4 This seemed particularly timely because the British Association is probably the most widely recognised medium between scientists and the British public, and therefore the most suitable agency for resolving the matter with which we are here concerned. Professor Ziman is himself a physicist of distinction who has taught relativity, and the subject of his Address was precisely that which this discussion is all about — the moral aspect of scientific research. No more favourable opportunity could have been looked for than this, for reaching a satisfactory conclusion.
The omens were propitious. Professor Ziman in his Address had assured the public of the 'fierce and uncompromising honesty' which was 'one of the standard attributes of the so-called "scientific attitude"'; he had said that scientists 'act in the expectation that their contemporaries will behave according to certain conventions. Any serious breach of these conventions is a pathological symptom, deserving our attention', and I could not doubt that he would have regarded the 'conventions' described by Sir Henry Dale (p. 23) as prominent among those which his audience would associate with dentists; he had said also that a scientist, 'if he has studied in a good institution, will have internalised very high standards of honesty, scepticism and criticism, so that he will never find it easy o let his mind slide over difficulties and objections'. Notwithstanding this, however, he did enumerate some minor foibles of
present-day scientists, though his summing-up was this: 'Let me say, then, most emphatically, that I do not believe that the internal state of the scientific community is desperately unhealthy. Some of the phenomena to be discussed are mildly scandalous, but they are mosdy rare exceptions that "prove" the rules.'
It seemed to me evident from this that Ziman was not familiar with, at any rate, most of the facts that I have related in the previous
pages (I may say that he happened not to be among the Fellows of the Royal Society to whom I had sent my circular),' so I at once wrote him giving an outline of those facts, which seemed to me to denote a 'pathology' far more serious than those he had mentioned, and soliciting his aid in effecting a cure within the scientific world itself, so that it would not be necessary for me to expose the whole matter in a book. I was encouraged in so doing by the fact that he had spoken in his Address of 'the absolute trust that we have in a deputable fellow scientist', and I had a real hope that, after all, the fateful task that would otherwise be inescapable, and by this time had seemed most likely to be so, might indeed become unnecessary.
Ziman replied in friendly terms, implying that I had indeed exemplified the picture of the scientist that he had presented, and commenting on the relativity problem itself; he added some remarks in the contrast between the duties of individual scientists and scientific societies in the matter, as he understood them. He did not, however, in defending the special relativity theory, make any attempt to answer the crucial question on which everything defended, and concluded: 'I am really rather sorry that I cannot be more helpful, for iconoclasm is my favourite sport, but honestly, I don't think I can go along with you in this one.'
I replied at some length, explaining and stressing the importance, from the point of view of scientific honesty as well as that of public safety, of extracting an answer from physicists, in a single sentence, to my simple question, and adding:
I am sure that at bottom you are as desirous as I am that thepathological state of the scientific world shall be as healthy as possible, and I hope you will regard this letter as a proposal of collaboration towards that end whose unfortunate form is made necessary by antecedent circumstances which have regrettably to be recognised as actual and which determine the course to be taken.
I begged him not to make it necessary for me, in the public interest, to make public yet another lapse from the 'fierce and uncompromising honesty' which he had assured his audience was characteristic of scientists. He replied:
I regret that I must disappoint you. I am certainly not prepared to enter into a correspondence in which you claim the right to quote me to others without reservation. I admire the energy, integrity and enthusiasm with which you put forward your point of view, but I take leave to remain unconvinced and the freedom to turn my mind to other matters where scientific argument may prove more fruitful.
Again I must leave the reader to judge whether gambling on a matter clearly a subject for decision by the application of scientific principles can properly be described as 'fierce and uncompromising honesty'.
I return now to the consequences of the discussion in the Listener where, for the first time, it had been possible to make generally known some of the facts concerning this matter. As I have said, this aroused astonishment in a number of readers, expressed to me in private letters and otherwise, which it would be tedious to summarise. I restrict my account to a few salient points which will sufficiently indicate the essence of the situation.
The editor of Nature, to whom I sent a copy of the whole correspondence (which concluded; as I have said, in the issue of 30 October 1969), wrote me on 24 November 1969 as follows:
What I now propose to do is to write a long leader summarising the position. We shall publish this before the end of the year and although I shall refer to your correspondence in the Listener and also summarise your view as expressed in your latest reply, I do not think that deserves publication in full. Naturally I shall let you see what I write before it appears.
(I presume that 'your latest reply' means my long suspended reply to Synge; if not, I do not know what it means). In the meantime I had had an interview with Lord Soper, who had kindly taken an interest in the matter, and in view of the letter from Mr. Maddox, which arrived immediately before that interview, it was agreed to wait for the appearance of the promised leader before considering the matter further.
The leader, however, did not appear before the end of the year. As I had informed a number of enquirers of Mr. Maddox's intention, the perplexity aroused in them by its non-appearance led me to write him a few weeks later, asking when it might be expected. He replied on 21 January 1970 that "the article you mentioned is now almost ready'. It still, however, did not appear, and towards the end of March Lord Soper wrote to Mr. Maddox with a further inquiry on the matter, and received the reply that it would be 'a week or two' before the article was ready for publication. More than a week or two elapsed, however, without any sign of it, but the forthcoming election held matters up for a while, and it was not until 6 July that Lord Soper made a further inquiry. To this he received no reply. The article has still not appeared, nor has any reference at all to the issues raised in the Listener appeared in Nature.
These are the bare facts of the matter so far as Nature is concerned, though I should add that, after hearing that Mr. Maddox intended to publish a leader, I wrote him pointing out that unless it contained either a clear answer to my crucial question or an acknowledgement that, since none was possible, the theory must be abandoned, as Synge had stated, it would achieve nothing. The reader must interpret these facts for himself, but it is only fair to point out that it is utterly impossible for any human being to write authoritatively on the whole field of science which Nature must cover, and an editor is compelled to seek advice from experts on at least most of the matters with which he must deal. It is therefore at least a possibility that when Mr. Maddox promised to write his leader, he wrote in confidence that his experts on this subject would be able to provide him with an answer to my question. The fact that the leader has not appeared invites the speculation that they have not been able to do so. If that is so the implications are obvious, though the reader must judge whether such an eventuality ought to lead to the non-appearance of the leader or to determine its character. If the speculation is beside the mark, the question why Nature has still not fulfilled its promise is completely open.
As I have said, there would be little point in recording all the reactions to the Listener correspondence that reached me, but it is instructive to give one because it emanates from a reader with undoubted sense of responsibility and ability to form a balanced judgment. In its general character it is typical of others, and it summarises some of the main points brought out in the correspondence which it is impossible to give in full. On 19 August 1970 the Rev. Dr. W. J. Platt, formerly General Secretary of the British and Foreign Bible Society, submitted the following letter, of which he has kindly sent me a copy, for publication to The Times:
In the Listener last year there appeared a long correspondence following an article entitled "Definitions and Realities' by Prof. H. Dingle, which was published on July 3. In its course, certain alleged facts transpired which, if true, are manifestly of public concern. I have been waiting for some authoritative statement showing either that the assertions were unfounded or that steps were being taken to rectify a dangerous situation. As far as I am aware, none has appeared, and the implications of the matter seem so serious that public interest demands one without delay.
Prof. Dingle, who, I believe, is recognised as a leading authority on Einstein's special relativity theory, on which physicists acknowledge that they rely, has advanced what he claims to be a fatal criticism of that theory. On such a matter the layman is, of course, not qualified to speak: he is, however, entitled to an assurance that the scientific world remains true to its principle of answering or accepting informed criticism. This appears to be not only, as it has always been, a moral duty of scientists, but in these days, when the experiments performed are of such enormous potential danger, a necessity. According to the uncontradicted assertion in the Listener of October 30 last, however, the President of the Royal Society failed to give an assurance that scientific integrity is still preserved. If earlier statements in the correspondence are true, he could hardly, of course, do so.
May I give a few of these statements ?
(1) Some of the most eminent workers in modern physics have admitted privately that they either do not understand the theory or regard it as nonsensical: nevertheless, they continue to teach it to students and to use it in high energy experiments.
(2) It is stated that the Royal Society has declared privately that Prof. Dingle's fallacy is 'too elementary even to be instructive', but the Society has not stated what the fallacy is, and the journal Nature, which had previously published the criticism without eliciting a refutation of it, has refused to publish a letter from Prof. Dingle, asking that the Royal Society shall state the fallacy.
(3) New Scientist, after asking Prof. Dingle to write an article on public dangers inherent in modern scientific research in which he would "not be restricted in any way', refused to publish the article offered, which stated these and similar facts, on the ground that 'refutation of a theory surely depends on the consensus of scientific opinion' - not now, it seems, on reasoned argument.
(4) After correspondence between Prof. Dingle and Prof. J. L. Synge, who, I understand, is an acknowledged mathematical authority on relativity, the latter in a letter published in Nature, agreed that the point at issue was not an abstruse mathematical one but concerned only the possible behaviour of clocks, and Synge 'cast his vote' for relativity. It is accepted that relativity, which concerns itself with matters of space and time, must be dependent on measurement of time, i.e. on clocks. Dingle replied that the matter was not to be decided by voting and that his demand of one clock was that it should not work both faster and slower at the same time than another. This reply was not allowed publication in Nature, a fact which led two correspondents in the Listener to assume that Dingle had not replied.
The situation thus disclosed, if the facts are as stated, is alarming. According to Dingle's closing letter (October 30) all that is required to settle the matter is an answer to the question: What is it, on Einstein's theory, that determines which of two clocks, relatively moving uniformly, lags behind the other, as Einstein says. Dingle's contention is that to be true the theory demands that the clocks must work faster and slower at the same time! It is therefore untenable. I repeat, Sir, that I make no attempt to judge the issue, but ask, in the public interest, since the foregoing assertions have been published and remain uncontradicted, that an authoritative and conclusive assurance shall be given that scientific integrity continues to exist.
Dr. Platt received a reply at once that the letter was under consideration. As, several weeks later, it had not appeared and he had heard nothing further, he wrote asking if a decision had been reached: he received no reply to this enquiry. The letter has not been published.
*1 Nature, 195, 985 (1962).
*2 Nature, 197, 1287 (1963). **3 Ann. Phys., 17, 891 (1905).