纽约世界日报编译组 戴开元
（原载《联合报系月刊》1998年1月）
译事之难，难得正确贴切之译名，其一难也。昔人云﹕一名之立，旬月躑躅。海外华文报章，译者同文同种。然两岸长期分离，香港亦独处一隅，遂致文字离异。兼之西方世界，新名新辞层出不穷，仓猝遽定，难免译名不一，犹如春秋战国，百花齐放，百家争鸣。百花齐放，美则美矣，却令译者头痛，尤使读者生惑，不利报纸之广佈，无益中华文化之统一，终非长久之计。
反观大陆，好似秦嬴之统一天下，车同轨，书同文，皆以官方新华社為钦定。天下一统，译者省事，读者省心。然过分强调统一，亦有流弊。某些官定译名，虽不甚妥当，译者惟有遵从。如美国前总统Reagen，大陆译曰“里根”，海外译之“雷根”。“雷根”较“里根”更近英文之音﹔国人观之，“里根”不如“雷根”之似人名。又如前总统Bush，海外译名“布希”亦较大陆之“布什”更近原名之音。再如美国Delaware州，大陆沿用一九四九年前之旧称“特拉华”，其音亦不如海外之“德拉瓦”也。
世界日报（以下简称世报）之译名，或雷同大陆，或胜过之，姑且不论。余仅就似可商榷之数例，略陈管见，以就教於同仁。惟余原在大陆研习科技史，文字翻译仅属业餘之好。下述浅见陋识，冀為引玉之砖。
（1） COUNTY
大陆通译為“县”，世报译加州之COUNTY為“县”，其餘各州，以“郡”译之，似行“一国两制”矣。“郡”為中国古时地方区域之称，经有年也，然隋唐以降即无此制，似不宜复用於今。或曰﹕“州”亦为今不复用之古地名，美国之STATES可译為“州”，COUNTY何不可译為“郡”﹖查其建制大小及上下隶属关系，STATE最宜以“省”译之。麻省、罗省等名，即属此译。惟译STATE為“州”為时已久，大陆、台湾、海外皆无异译，译界惟有从眾。观中国歷史，州之沿用，迄至明清，远长於郡。今之大陆局部，仍有此名，少数民族自治州即是。古之州郡，界乎省县之间，大小类似。时有交替变动，如隋废郡存州，旋改州為郡，唐复改郡為州，因而两者不宜并存。“州”既不动，“郡”宜让路。COUNTY小於STATE，建制大小相当於今大陆、台湾之县。因之，COUNTY似应通译為“县”。
（2） NBC（National Broadcast Company）
大陆译曰“全国广播公司”，世报译為“国家广播公司”。原文之National，含“国家”、“全国”诸义。以此观之，两译皆对。惟现代中文，凡冠以“国家”之名，多有“国营”（台湾呼之公营）、“国家所有”甚或“国家政府机构”之义，如大陆之“国家科委”、“国家气象总局”、“国家广播事业局”等中央政府部级机构。NBC译“国家广播公司”，易使中文读者误认NBC乃美国联邦政府所属之国营公司。《明报》最近间有译為“美国国家广播公司”，画蛇添足，狗尾续貂，更易使人困惑。大陆某些机关，如“全国政协”、“全国文联”、“全国作家协会”、“全国妇女联合会”、“中华全国总工会”，虽亦冠之“全国”，亦属国家机构，然不似以“国家”為首之机关正式，名义上仍属民间机构。“国家”，重在国家之属﹔“全国”，强调广被一国疆域。仅此而论，“全国广播公司”较“国家广播公司”稍胜一筹。
（3） NASA（National Aeronautics and Space Administration）
世报译為“美国航空暨太空总署”，大陆则為“美国航空和航天局”，大陆报刊亦常简称「美国航天局」。原名之space，凡与地球之外人类活动有关者，大陆过去一般译為“宇宙航行”（简称“宇航”）、“宇宙飞行”。约於1972年，有专家撰文，建议改為自创之“航天”一辞，以后遂為大陆有关权威机构认可。“航天”与“太空”，孰优孰劣，尚难遽断。以“太空”為準，世报译法贴近原义。查成立於1958年之NASA，其业务范围虽也包括“航空”（aeronautics），但其核心业务则基本全属“太空”。為节省字数，不仿简称“太空总署”，或更简之“太空署”。一篇新闻首次出现，宜冠“美国”二字。一则其他国家亦有类似名称之类似机构（如欧洲太空署）﹔二则中文读者虽身在美国，或為美国公民，或持绿卡，然许多人仍然念念不忘母国，心理上仍视美国為“外国”或“他国”耳。
（4） AFL-CIO（American Federation of Labor and Congress of Industrial Organizations）
大陆作“美国劳工联合会-產业工人联合会”，简称“劳联-產联”，世报译為“全国总工会”。AFL-CIO原名中既无“全国”，也无「总」的含义。该组织於1955年由AFL与CIO合併而成，确系美国成员最多（1980年约有一千三百六十万成员）、影响最大、组织遍及全美各地的工会。但其下属工会不仅限於美国，尚包括加拿大、墨西哥、巴拿马等国，几乎类似一国际工会。其美国会员最多仅佔全美国工会会员总数的百分之六十左右。美国著名的大型工会“卡车司机工会”（Teamsters Union）即不在其管辖以内（The Concise Columbia Encyclopedia，Columbia University Press，1983，p.24-5，p871）。AFL-CIO译為美国“全国总工会”，显然名不副实。大陆之“全国总工会”，倒确系领导全大陆所有大小工会之最高机关。海外某些华人组织，仅有三五个人，七八条枪，动輒打出“全美总×会”之旗号，实乃欺世盗名之伎俩。因之，AFL-CIO似宜採用大陆译法，译為“美国劳联-產联”，简称“劳联-產联”较妥。
（5） Washington D.C.与Chinatown N.Y.C.，
世报分别译為“华府”与“华埠”。大陆译為“华盛顿”或“华盛顿市”与“中国城”或“唐人街”。余未知台湾移民状况，仅知凡来大陆者，百之九十九皆不知“华府”、“华埠”系指何处。余亦来美数年之后，细心读报，连猜带矇，反覆琢磨，方知究里。為争取大陆读者计，此两译名似宜改為“华盛顿市”与“纽约中国城”。余尝戏谓﹕前报载因吸毒而入戒毒所之黑人华盛顿市长（Washington Mayor）可否称之“府尹”﹖
（6） Chelsea Clinton
美总统柯林顿女公子，大陆译“切尔西”，世报译為“雀儿喜”，不知出自哪位翻译高手。译名一般译音，切忌另增原文无有之义。“雀儿喜”，有“雀”且“喜”，不禁令人忆及《红楼梦》薛蟠以“女儿喜”起首之歪诗。如Chelsea获知其中文译名之义為Birds being happy，未知作何感想﹖且“雀儿喜”既不切音，又不似吾国人名，甚為不妥。
（7） Jean Chretien
加拿大总理，大陆译作“克雷蒂安”，星岛日报、明报皆依大陆，惟世报仍译“克里靖”。两者皆是译音，然大陆依原名之法文发音，世报则按照英文转写之英文发音。依译界“名从主人”之规，大陆译名较為正确。波兰团结工联领袖Walsa，海外译為“华勒沙”或“华尔沙”，大陆译為“瓦文萨”，前者亦犯同类错误。Walsa中的l，不可依英文发音译成“勒”或“尔”，而应依波兰文译為“文”(wen)。或曰﹕一般译者何能通晓如许多种外文﹖大陆陆谷孙编《英汉大辞典》附录四收录新华社制订英、法、德、俄、西五种习见外文译音表，如无台湾类似外文译音表，似可参考。惟英文人名，有些亦不宜过於遵从译音表，凡l、r皆译“尔”，遇t则作“特”。明报专栏作家陶杰谓译名一般不宜超过四字，此言有理。如美国国务卿Albright，照大陆译音表為“奥尔布赖特”，不若世报之“欧布莱特”或港报之“奥布莱”切音省字。
（8） UPS（United Parcel Service）
世界有名之美国包裹快递公司，世报原照UPS在台湾分公司中文名字译成音义兼顾的“优比速”，后又义译為“联合包裹公司”，弄巧成拙。英国研究中国科技史大家Joseph Needham，中文名曰“李约瑟”而非“约瑟夫‧尼丹姆”，“北京”之英文译名Peking改為Beijing，McDonald译成“麦当劳”而非“麦克多纳尔德”，Pizza Hut译“必胜客”而非“皮萨饼屋”，皆“名从主人”之例。倘若美国政府拟改America之中文名“美国”為“阿美利加”，大陆当局欲变“中国”之英译China為Zhongguo，吾等亦只好遵从。明报专栏作家乔菁华、陶杰曾撰文批评大陆译名萝嗦冗长，举“麦当劳”、“必胜客”為例，証诸香港译名优於大陆译法，连大陆也只好採用，云云。实谬。大陆乃依名从主人之规行事。倘若McDonald、Pizza Hut无自己确定之中文译名，大陆未必奉香港译名為圭臬。余未知UPS之大陆译名。如仍用台湾之“优比速”，世报似宜复用旧名。
“名从主人”，乃大陆译界确定译名之极為重要，甚或首要之规。举凡人名、组织名、地名，如有本人、该组织、该国政府自定之译名，译者必遵从之，概莫能外。如译名译音，应儘量依从原文语种之发音译之。前述之“华府”、“华埠”，皆非美国政府正式确定之中文译名，故不在“名从主人”之例。
（9） SPACE WALK
太空人於太空中自己移动位置以完成某种任务，世报译為“太空漫步”，未知大陆正式译名為何。太空中无空气，故太空人著太空衣﹔太空又无重力，故太空人必借他力方能移动位置，或爬，或拉保险绳，或打反衝力枪，或啟动反衝力喷气装置，一言以蔽之，此WALK与地面走路迥然不同。译作“太空漫步”，或拟形容太空人於太空之飘飘忽忽形态。然“漫步”之於中文，似為晚出之辞，舒新城“辞海”1947年版尚未收此辞。“漫步”之“漫”，原义為“没有目的、悠闲”（大陆中国社会科学院语言研究所《现代汉语辞典》，商务，96年版，第851页。此书乃大陆几近钦定之权威现代汉语辞典），并无强调走路形态之义。SPACE WALK，其实目的任务极為明确，境况惊险万分，绝无“漫步“花前月下之悠闲瀟洒，因而译為“太空漫步”似不确切。可否译為“太空行走”﹖
（10）“精英”抑或“菁英”﹖
此两名与译名似不相关，然“精英”源於译名，故一併论之。二者皆非中文传统常见名辞。舒新城《辞海》1947年版、大陆《现代汉语辞典》1978、1983年两版、大陆夏征农等《辞海》1980年版皆未收二辞。余记忆所及，“精英”最早见之大陆，乃1976年前后科学出版社出版译自英文之《科学界的精英》一书，内容记述获诺贝尔奖科学家之生平事蹟。“精英”源自原书名之Elite，指出类拔萃之人，似取“精华”、“英才”各一字為之。此辞后在大陆广為流行（《现代汉语辞典》96年版即收此辞）。
余印象所及，海外报刊之“菁英”，似系八十年代中期大陆之“精英”一辞流传海外，擅改而成（台湾赵锡如《辞海》1992年版收“精英”而未收“菁英”）。古之“精”、“菁”二字，於“精华”、“菁华”二辞同义而相通。因而“精英”改作“菁英”，亦未尝不可。然“精华”始见於典籍，似早於“菁华”（舒新城《辞海》释“精华”，引西汉刘向所辑《楚辞》，释“菁华”则仅引唐房玄龄所撰《晋书》)。兼之“精英”辞性较為中性，而“菁英”则略带羸弱阴柔之气。依愚浅见，“精英”“菁英”二名至少可以併存。如二者择一，吾寧取“精英”而捨“菁英”。
===============================================
《译名小议》补正
纽约世界日报编译组 戴开元
拙作《译名琐记》蒙《联合报系月刊》不弃，予以发表。原稿写於去年十一月，当时笔者仅查阅手边的几种工具书。后来又翻阅一些辞书，发觉原稿中引用的少许资料已经过时，并导致个别论点有误，特予以补正，祈「联合报系月刊」编者和读者原谅。
（一）拙作根据一九八○年版《简明哥伦比亚百科全书》，说美国著名工会AFL-CIO的美国会员佔美国工会会员总数百分之六十左右，而美国著名的大型工会“卡车司机工会”不在其管辖范围以内，此项资料已过时。据一九九七年版的《世界图书百科全书》（World Book Encyclopedia，World Book, Inc.，1997，LABOR MOVEMENT），目前AFL-CIO的美国成员人数约佔全美国工会会员总数的四分之三。“卡车司机工会”於八十年代加入AFL-CIO。但美国仍然有不少大型工会不属於AFL-CIO，如拥有两百万会员的“美国全国教育协会”（National Education Association of the United States）。
（二）美国总统柯林顿的千金Chelsea，Chelsea原来指伦敦市西南一艺术家、作家聚居的住宅区（陆谷孙主编《英汉大辞典》，上海译文出版社1993年版，第294页），与“雀儿”、“喜悦”诸义风马牛不相及。
（三）拙作称“精英”源於大陆一九七六年前后出版的《科技界的精英》，并推测“精英”从“精华”、“英才”各取一字组成，有误。大陆八十年代重新编辑的《辞源》和台湾三民书局编的《大辞典》都收录“精英”，说明中国古代早已使用过“精英”一辞。但一九四九年以后，大陆报刊极少使用此辞，“精英”在大陆的普遍流行，确系一九七九年《科学界的精英》一书出版以后。
一九九八年二月廿一日
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Experiments in Philosophy
(9-7,-2010, 9:30 pm NYT)
By JOSHUA KNOBE
Aristotle once wrote that philosophy begins in wonder, but one might equally well say that philosophy begins with inner conflict. The cases in which we are most drawn to philosophy are precisely the cases in which we feel as though there is something pulling us toward one side of a question but also something pulling us, perhaps equally powerfully, toward the other.
But how exactly can philosophy help us in cases like these? If we feel something within ourselves drawing us in one direction but also something drawing us the other way, what exactly can philosophy do to offer us illumination?
One traditional answer is that philosophy can help us out by offering us some insight into human nature. Suppose we feel a sense of puzzlement about whether God exists, or whether there are objective moral truths, or whether human beings have free will.
The traditional view was that philosophers could help us get to the bottom of this puzzlement by exploring the sources of the conflict within our own minds. If you look back to the work of some of the greatest thinkers of the 19th century Mill, Marx, Nietzsche — you can find extraordinary intellectual achievements along these basic lines.
As noted earlier this month in The Times’s Room for Debate forum, this traditional approach is back with a vengeance. Philosophers today are once again looking for the roots of philosophical conflicts in our human nature, and they are once again suggesting that we can make progress on philosophical questions by reaching a better understanding of our own minds. But these days, philosophers are going after these issues using a new set of methodologies. They are pursuing the traditional questions using all the tools of modern cognitive science. They are teaming up with researchers in other disciplines, conducting experimental studies, publishing in some of the top journals of psychology. Work in this new vein has come to be known as experimental philosophy.
The Room for Debate discussion of this movement brought up an important question that is worth pursuing further. The study of human nature, whether in Nietzsche or in a contemporary psychology journal, is obviously relevant to certain purely scientific questions, but how could this sort of work ever help us to answer the distinctive questions of philosophy? It may be of some interest just to figure out how people ordinarily think, but how could facts about how people ordinarily think ever tell us which views were actually right or wrong?
Instead of just considering this question in the abstract, let’s focus in on one particular example. Take the age-old problem of free will — a topic discussed at length here at The Stone by Galen Strawson, William Egginton and hundreds of readers. If all of our actions are determined by prior events — just one thing causing the next, which causes the next — then is it ever possible for human beings to be morally responsible for the things we do? Faced with this question, many people feel themselves pulled in competing directions — it is as though there is something compelling them to say yes, but also something that makes them want to say no.
What is it that draws us in these two conflicting directions? The philosopher Shaun Nichols and I thought that people might be drawn toward one view by their capacity for abstract, theoretical reasoning, while simultaneously being drawn in the opposite direction by their more immediate emotional reactions. It is as though their capacity for abstract reasoning tells them, “This person was completely determined and therefore cannot be held responsible,” while their capacity for immediate emotional reaction keeps screaming, “But he did such a horrible thing! Surely, he is responsible for it.”
To put this idea to the test, we conducted a simple experiment. All participants in the study were told about a deterministic universe (which we called “Universe A”), and all participants received exactly the same information about how this universe worked. The question then was whether people would think that it was possible in such a universe to be fully morally responsible.
But now comes the trick. Some participants were asked in a way designed to trigger abstract, theoretical reasoning, while others were asked in a way designed to trigger a more immediate emotional response. Specifically, participants in one condition were given the abstract question:
In Universe A, is it possible for a person to be fully morally responsible for their actions?
Meanwhile, participants in the other condition were given a more concrete and emotionally fraught example:
In Universe A, a man named Bill has become attracted to his secretary, and he decides that the only way to be with her is to kill his wife and three children. He knows that it is impossible to escape from his house in the event of a fire. Before he leaves on a business trip, he sets up a device in his basement that burns down the house and kills his family.
Is Bill fully morally responsible for killing his wife and children?
The results showed a striking difference between conditions. Of the participants who received the abstract question, the vast majority (86 percent) said that it was not possible for anyone to be morally responsible in the deterministic universe. But then, in the more concrete case, we found exactly the opposite results. There, most participants (72 percent) said that Bill actually was responsible for what he had done.
What we have in this example is just one very simple initial experiment. Needless to say, the actual body of research on this topic involves numerous different studies, and the scientific issues arising here can be quite complex. But let us put all those issues to the side for the moment. Instead, we can just return to our original question. How can experiments like these possibly help us to answer the more traditional questions of philosophy?
The simple study I have been discussing here can offer at least a rough sense of how such an inquiry works. The idea is not that we subject philosophical questions to some kind of Gallup poll. (“Well, the vote came out 65 percent to 35 percent, so I guess the answer is … human beings do have free will!”) Rather, the aim is to get a better understanding of the psychological mechanisms at the root of our sense of conflict and then to begin thinking about which of these mechanisms are worthy of our trust and which might simply be leading us astray.
So, what is the answer in the specific case of the conflict we feel about free will? Should we be putting our faith in our capacity for abstract theoretical reasoning, or should we be relying on our more immediate emotional responses? At the moment, there is no consensus on this question within the experimental philosophy community. What all experimental philosophers do agree on, however, is that we will be able to do a better job of addressing these fundamental philosophical questions if we can arrive at a better understanding of the way our own minds work.
(Joshua Knobe is an assistant professor at Yale University, where he is appointed both in Cognitive Science and in Philosophy. He is a co-editor, with Shaun Nichols, of the volume “Experimental Philosophy.”)
By JOSHUA KNOBE
Aristotle once wrote that philosophy begins in wonder, but one might equally well say that philosophy begins with inner conflict. The cases in which we are most drawn to philosophy are precisely the cases in which we feel as though there is something pulling us toward one side of a question but also something pulling us, perhaps equally powerfully, toward the other.
But how exactly can philosophy help us in cases like these? If we feel something within ourselves drawing us in one direction but also something drawing us the other way, what exactly can philosophy do to offer us illumination?
One traditional answer is that philosophy can help us out by offering us some insight into human nature. Suppose we feel a sense of puzzlement about whether God exists, or whether there are objective moral truths, or whether human beings have free will.
The traditional view was that philosophers could help us get to the bottom of this puzzlement by exploring the sources of the conflict within our own minds. If you look back to the work of some of the greatest thinkers of the 19th century Mill, Marx, Nietzsche — you can find extraordinary intellectual achievements along these basic lines.
As noted earlier this month in The Times’s Room for Debate forum, this traditional approach is back with a vengeance. Philosophers today are once again looking for the roots of philosophical conflicts in our human nature, and they are once again suggesting that we can make progress on philosophical questions by reaching a better understanding of our own minds. But these days, philosophers are going after these issues using a new set of methodologies. They are pursuing the traditional questions using all the tools of modern cognitive science. They are teaming up with researchers in other disciplines, conducting experimental studies, publishing in some of the top journals of psychology. Work in this new vein has come to be known as experimental philosophy.
The Room for Debate discussion of this movement brought up an important question that is worth pursuing further. The study of human nature, whether in Nietzsche or in a contemporary psychology journal, is obviously relevant to certain purely scientific questions, but how could this sort of work ever help us to answer the distinctive questions of philosophy? It may be of some interest just to figure out how people ordinarily think, but how could facts about how people ordinarily think ever tell us which views were actually right or wrong?
Instead of just considering this question in the abstract, let’s focus in on one particular example. Take the age-old problem of free will — a topic discussed at length here at The Stone by Galen Strawson, William Egginton and hundreds of readers. If all of our actions are determined by prior events — just one thing causing the next, which causes the next — then is it ever possible for human beings to be morally responsible for the things we do? Faced with this question, many people feel themselves pulled in competing directions — it is as though there is something compelling them to say yes, but also something that makes them want to say no.
What is it that draws us in these two conflicting directions? The philosopher Shaun Nichols and I thought that people might be drawn toward one view by their capacity for abstract, theoretical reasoning, while simultaneously being drawn in the opposite direction by their more immediate emotional reactions. It is as though their capacity for abstract reasoning tells them, “This person was completely determined and therefore cannot be held responsible,” while their capacity for immediate emotional reaction keeps screaming, “But he did such a horrible thing! Surely, he is responsible for it.”
To put this idea to the test, we conducted a simple experiment. All participants in the study were told about a deterministic universe (which we called “Universe A”), and all participants received exactly the same information about how this universe worked. The question then was whether people would think that it was possible in such a universe to be fully morally responsible.
But now comes the trick. Some participants were asked in a way designed to trigger abstract, theoretical reasoning, while others were asked in a way designed to trigger a more immediate emotional response. Specifically, participants in one condition were given the abstract question:
In Universe A, is it possible for a person to be fully morally responsible for their actions?
Meanwhile, participants in the other condition were given a more concrete and emotionally fraught example:
In Universe A, a man named Bill has become attracted to his secretary, and he decides that the only way to be with her is to kill his wife and three children. He knows that it is impossible to escape from his house in the event of a fire. Before he leaves on a business trip, he sets up a device in his basement that burns down the house and kills his family.
Is Bill fully morally responsible for killing his wife and children?
The results showed a striking difference between conditions. Of the participants who received the abstract question, the vast majority (86 percent) said that it was not possible for anyone to be morally responsible in the deterministic universe. But then, in the more concrete case, we found exactly the opposite results. There, most participants (72 percent) said that Bill actually was responsible for what he had done.
What we have in this example is just one very simple initial experiment. Needless to say, the actual body of research on this topic involves numerous different studies, and the scientific issues arising here can be quite complex. But let us put all those issues to the side for the moment. Instead, we can just return to our original question. How can experiments like these possibly help us to answer the more traditional questions of philosophy?
The simple study I have been discussing here can offer at least a rough sense of how such an inquiry works. The idea is not that we subject philosophical questions to some kind of Gallup poll. (“Well, the vote came out 65 percent to 35 percent, so I guess the answer is … human beings do have free will!”) Rather, the aim is to get a better understanding of the psychological mechanisms at the root of our sense of conflict and then to begin thinking about which of these mechanisms are worthy of our trust and which might simply be leading us astray.
So, what is the answer in the specific case of the conflict we feel about free will? Should we be putting our faith in our capacity for abstract theoretical reasoning, or should we be relying on our more immediate emotional responses? At the moment, there is no consensus on this question within the experimental philosophy community. What all experimental philosophers do agree on, however, is that we will be able to do a better job of addressing these fundamental philosophical questions if we can arrive at a better understanding of the way our own minds work.
(Joshua Knobe is an assistant professor at Yale University, where he is appointed both in Cognitive Science and in Philosophy. He is a co-editor, with Shaun Nichols, of the volume “Experimental Philosophy.”)
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
HAWKING:Why God Did Not Create the Universe
Why God Did Not Create the Universe
There is a sound scientific explanation for the making of our world—no gods required
By STEPHEN HAWKING And LEONARD MLODINOW
According to Viking mythology, eclipses occur when two wolves, Skoll and Hati, catch the sun or moon. At the onset of an eclipse people would make lots of noise, hoping to scare the wolves away. After some time, people must have noticed that the eclipses ended regardless of whether they ran around banging on pots.
Ignorance of nature's ways led people in ancient times to postulate many myths in an effort to make sense of their world. But eventually, people turned to philosophy, that is, to the use of reason—with a good dose of intuition—to decipher their universe. Today we use reason, mathematics and experimental test—in other words, modern science.
Albert Einstein said, "The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible." He meant that, unlike our homes on a bad day, the universe is not just a conglomeration of objects each going its own way. Everything in the universe follows laws, without exception.
Newton believed that our strangely habitable solar system did not "arise out of chaos by the mere laws of nature." Instead, he maintained that the order in the universe was "created by God at first and conserved by him to this Day in the same state and condition." The discovery recently of the extreme fine-tuning of so many laws of nature could lead some back to the idea that this grand design is the work of some grand Designer. Yet the latest advances in cosmology explain why the laws of the universe seem tailor-made for humans, without the need for a benevolent creator.
Many improbable occurrences conspired to create Earth's human-friendly design, and they would indeed be puzzling if ours were the only solar system in the universe. But today we know of hundreds of other solar systems, and few doubt that there exist countless more among the billions of stars in our galaxy. Planets of all sorts exist, and obviously, when the beings on a planet that supports life examine the world around them, they are bound to find that their environment satisfies the conditions they require to exist.
It is possible to turn that last statement into a scientific principle: The fact of our being restricts the characteristics of the kind of environment in which we find ourselves. For example, if we did not know the distance from the Earth to the sun, the fact that beings like us exist would allow us to put bounds on how small or great the Earth-sun separation could be. We need liquid water to exist, and if the Earth were too close, it would all boil off; if it were too far, it would freeze. That principle is called the "weak" anthropic principle.
The weak anthropic principle is not very controversial. But there is a stronger form that is regarded with disdain among some physicists. The strong anthropic principle suggests that the fact that we exist imposes constraints, not just on our environment, but on the possible form and content of the laws of nature themselves.
The idea arose because it is not only the peculiar characteristics of our solar system that seem oddly conducive to the development of human life, but also the characteristics of our entire universe—and its laws. They appear to have a design that is both tailor-made to support us and, if we are to exist, leaves little room for alteration. That is much more difficult to explain.
The tale of how the primordial universe of hydrogen, helium and a bit of lithium evolved to a universe harboring at least one world with intelligent life like us is a tale of many chapters. The forces of nature had to be such that heavier elements—especially carbon—could be produced from the primordial elements, and remain stable for at least billions of years. Those heavy elements were formed in the furnaces we call stars, so the forces first had to allow stars and galaxies to form. Those in turn grew from the seeds of tiny inhomogeneities in the early universe.
Even all that is not enough: The dynamics of the stars had to be such that some would eventually explode, precisely in a way that could disperse the heavier elements through space. In addition, the laws of nature had to dictate that those remnants could recondense into a new generation of stars, these surrounded by planets incorporating the newly formed heavy elements.
By examining the model universes we generate when the theories of physics are altered in certain ways, one can study the effect of changes to physical law in a methodical manner. Such calculations show that a change of as little as 0.5% in the strength of the strong nuclear force, or 4% in the electric force, would destroy either nearly all carbon or all oxygen in every star, and hence the possibility of life as we know it. Also, most of the fundamental constants appearing in our theories appear fine-tuned in the sense that if they were altered by only modest amounts, the universe would be qualitatively different, and in many cases unsuitable for the development of life. For example, if protons were 0.2% heavier, they would decay into neutrons, destabilizing atoms.
If one assumes that a few hundred million years in stable orbit is necessary for planetary life to evolve, the number of space dimensions is also fixed by our existence. That is because, according to the laws of gravity, it is only in three dimensions that stable elliptical orbits are possible. In any but three dimensions even a small disturbance, such as that produced by the pull of the other planets, would send a planet off its circular orbit, and cause it to spiral either into or away from the sun.
The emergence of the complex structures capable of supporting intelligent observers seems to be very fragile. The laws of nature form a system that is extremely fine-tuned. What can we make of these coincidences? Luck in the precise form and nature of fundamental physical law is a different kind of luck from the luck we find in environmental factors. It raises the natural question of why it is that way.
Many people would like us to use these coincidences as evidence of the work of God. The idea that the universe was designed to accommodate mankind appears in theologies and mythologies dating from thousands of years ago. In Western culture the Old Testament contains the idea of providential design, but the traditional Christian viewpoint was also greatly influenced by Aristotle, who believed "in an intelligent natural world that functions according to some deliberate design."
That is not the answer of modern science. As recent advances in cosmology suggest, the laws of gravity and quantum theory allow universes to appear spontaneously from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist. It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going.
Our universe seems to be one of many, each with different laws. That multiverse idea is not a notion invented to account for the miracle of fine tuning. It is a consequence predicted by many theories in modern cosmology. If it is true it reduces the strong anthropic principle to the weak one, putting the fine tunings of physical law on the same footing as the environmental factors, for it means that our cosmic habitat—now the entire observable universe—is just one of many.
Each universe has many possible histories and many possible states. Only a very few would allow creatures like us to exist. Although we are puny and insignificant on the scale of the cosmos, this makes us in a sense the lords of creation.
—Stephen Hawking is a professor at the University of Cambridge. Leonard Mlodinow is a physicist who teaches at Caltech. Adapted from "The Grand Design" by Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow.
(WSJ,9/7/2010)
There is a sound scientific explanation for the making of our world—no gods required
By STEPHEN HAWKING And LEONARD MLODINOW
According to Viking mythology, eclipses occur when two wolves, Skoll and Hati, catch the sun or moon. At the onset of an eclipse people would make lots of noise, hoping to scare the wolves away. After some time, people must have noticed that the eclipses ended regardless of whether they ran around banging on pots.
Ignorance of nature's ways led people in ancient times to postulate many myths in an effort to make sense of their world. But eventually, people turned to philosophy, that is, to the use of reason—with a good dose of intuition—to decipher their universe. Today we use reason, mathematics and experimental test—in other words, modern science.
Albert Einstein said, "The most incomprehensible thing about the universe is that it is comprehensible." He meant that, unlike our homes on a bad day, the universe is not just a conglomeration of objects each going its own way. Everything in the universe follows laws, without exception.
Newton believed that our strangely habitable solar system did not "arise out of chaos by the mere laws of nature." Instead, he maintained that the order in the universe was "created by God at first and conserved by him to this Day in the same state and condition." The discovery recently of the extreme fine-tuning of so many laws of nature could lead some back to the idea that this grand design is the work of some grand Designer. Yet the latest advances in cosmology explain why the laws of the universe seem tailor-made for humans, without the need for a benevolent creator.
Many improbable occurrences conspired to create Earth's human-friendly design, and they would indeed be puzzling if ours were the only solar system in the universe. But today we know of hundreds of other solar systems, and few doubt that there exist countless more among the billions of stars in our galaxy. Planets of all sorts exist, and obviously, when the beings on a planet that supports life examine the world around them, they are bound to find that their environment satisfies the conditions they require to exist.
It is possible to turn that last statement into a scientific principle: The fact of our being restricts the characteristics of the kind of environment in which we find ourselves. For example, if we did not know the distance from the Earth to the sun, the fact that beings like us exist would allow us to put bounds on how small or great the Earth-sun separation could be. We need liquid water to exist, and if the Earth were too close, it would all boil off; if it were too far, it would freeze. That principle is called the "weak" anthropic principle.
The weak anthropic principle is not very controversial. But there is a stronger form that is regarded with disdain among some physicists. The strong anthropic principle suggests that the fact that we exist imposes constraints, not just on our environment, but on the possible form and content of the laws of nature themselves.
The idea arose because it is not only the peculiar characteristics of our solar system that seem oddly conducive to the development of human life, but also the characteristics of our entire universe—and its laws. They appear to have a design that is both tailor-made to support us and, if we are to exist, leaves little room for alteration. That is much more difficult to explain.
The tale of how the primordial universe of hydrogen, helium and a bit of lithium evolved to a universe harboring at least one world with intelligent life like us is a tale of many chapters. The forces of nature had to be such that heavier elements—especially carbon—could be produced from the primordial elements, and remain stable for at least billions of years. Those heavy elements were formed in the furnaces we call stars, so the forces first had to allow stars and galaxies to form. Those in turn grew from the seeds of tiny inhomogeneities in the early universe.
Even all that is not enough: The dynamics of the stars had to be such that some would eventually explode, precisely in a way that could disperse the heavier elements through space. In addition, the laws of nature had to dictate that those remnants could recondense into a new generation of stars, these surrounded by planets incorporating the newly formed heavy elements.
By examining the model universes we generate when the theories of physics are altered in certain ways, one can study the effect of changes to physical law in a methodical manner. Such calculations show that a change of as little as 0.5% in the strength of the strong nuclear force, or 4% in the electric force, would destroy either nearly all carbon or all oxygen in every star, and hence the possibility of life as we know it. Also, most of the fundamental constants appearing in our theories appear fine-tuned in the sense that if they were altered by only modest amounts, the universe would be qualitatively different, and in many cases unsuitable for the development of life. For example, if protons were 0.2% heavier, they would decay into neutrons, destabilizing atoms.
If one assumes that a few hundred million years in stable orbit is necessary for planetary life to evolve, the number of space dimensions is also fixed by our existence. That is because, according to the laws of gravity, it is only in three dimensions that stable elliptical orbits are possible. In any but three dimensions even a small disturbance, such as that produced by the pull of the other planets, would send a planet off its circular orbit, and cause it to spiral either into or away from the sun.
The emergence of the complex structures capable of supporting intelligent observers seems to be very fragile. The laws of nature form a system that is extremely fine-tuned. What can we make of these coincidences? Luck in the precise form and nature of fundamental physical law is a different kind of luck from the luck we find in environmental factors. It raises the natural question of why it is that way.
Many people would like us to use these coincidences as evidence of the work of God. The idea that the universe was designed to accommodate mankind appears in theologies and mythologies dating from thousands of years ago. In Western culture the Old Testament contains the idea of providential design, but the traditional Christian viewpoint was also greatly influenced by Aristotle, who believed "in an intelligent natural world that functions according to some deliberate design."
That is not the answer of modern science. As recent advances in cosmology suggest, the laws of gravity and quantum theory allow universes to appear spontaneously from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist. It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going.
Our universe seems to be one of many, each with different laws. That multiverse idea is not a notion invented to account for the miracle of fine tuning. It is a consequence predicted by many theories in modern cosmology. If it is true it reduces the strong anthropic principle to the weak one, putting the fine tunings of physical law on the same footing as the environmental factors, for it means that our cosmic habitat—now the entire observable universe—is just one of many.
Each universe has many possible histories and many possible states. Only a very few would allow creatures like us to exist. Although we are puny and insignificant on the scale of the cosmos, this makes us in a sense the lords of creation.
—Stephen Hawking is a professor at the University of Cambridge. Leonard Mlodinow is a physicist who teaches at Caltech. Adapted from "The Grand Design" by Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow.
(WSJ,9/7/2010)
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