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THE WORLD AS I SEE IT
Albert Einstein



PREFACE TO ORIGINAL EDITION

Only individuals have a sense of responsibility. --Nietzsche

This book does not represent a complete collection of the articles, addresses,
and pronouncements of Albert Einstein; it is a selection made with a definite
object-- namely, to give a picture of a man. To-day this man is being drawn,
contrary to his own intention, into the whirlpool of political passions and
contemporary history. As a result, Einstein is experiencing the fate that so
many of the great men of history experienced: his character and opinions are
being exhibited to the world in an utterly distorted form.

To forestall this fate is the real object of this book. It meets a wish that has
constantly been expressed both by Einstein's friends and by the wider public.
It contains work belonging to the most various dates-- the article on "The
International of Science" dates from the year 1922, the address on "The
Principles of Scientific Research" from 1923, the "Letter to an Arab" from
1930--and the most various spheres, held together by the unity of the
personality which stands behind all these utterances. Albert Einstein believes
in humanity, in a peaceful world of mutual helpfulness, and in the high mission
of science. This book is intended as a plea for this belief at a time which
compels every one of us to overhaul his mental attitude and his ideas.

J. H.


INTRODUCTION TO ABRIDGED
EDITION

In his biography of Einstein Mr. H. Gordou Garbedian relates that an
American newspaper man asked the great physicist for a definition of his
theory of relativity in one sentence. Einstein replied that it would take him
three days to give a short definition of relativity. He might well have added
that unless his questioner had an intimate acquaintance with mathematics and
physics, the definition would be incomprehensible.

To the majority of people Einstein's theory is a complete mystery. Their
attitude towards Einstein is like that of Mark Twain towards the writer of a
work on mathematics: here was a man who had written an entire book of
which Mark could not understand a single sentence. Einstein, therefore, is
great in the public eye partly because he has made revolutionary discoveries
which cannot be translated into the common tongue. We stand in proper awe
of a man whose thoughts move on heights far beyond our range, whose
achievements can be measured only by the few who are able to follow his
reasoning and challenge his conclusions.

There is, however, another side to his personality. It is revealed in the
addresses, letters, and occasional writings brought together in this book.
These fragments form a mosaic portrait of Einstein the man. Each one is, in a
sense, complete in itself; it presents his views on some aspect of progress,
education, peace, war, liberty, or other problems of universal interest. Their
combined effect is to demonstrate that the Einstein we can all understand is no
less great than the Einstein we take on trust.

Einstein has asked nothing more from life than the freedom to pursue his
researches into the mechanism of the universe. His nature is of rare simplicity
and sincerity; he always has been, and he remains, genuinely indifferent to
wealth and fame and the other prizes so dear to ambition. At the same time he
is no recluse, shutting himself off from the sorrows and agitations of the world
around him. Himself familiar from early years with the handicap of poverty
and with some of the worst forms of man's inhumanity to man, he has never
spared himself in defence of the weak and the oppressed. Nothing could be
more unwelcome to his sensitive and retiring character than the glare of the
platform and the heat of public controversy, yet he has never hesitated when
he felt that his voice or influence would help to redress a wrong. History,
surely, has few parallels with this introspective mathematical genius who
laboured unceasingly as an eager champion of the rights of man.

Albert Einstein was born in 1879 at Ulm. When he was four years old his
father, who owned an electrochemical works, moved to Munich, and two
years later the boy went to school, experiencing a rigid, almost military, type
of discipline and also the isolation of a shy and contemplative Jewish child
among Roman Catholics-- factors which made a deep and enduring
impression. From the point of view of his teachers he was an unsatisfactory
pupil, apparently incapable of progress in languages, history, geography, and
other primary subjects. His interest in mathematics was roused, not by his
instructors, but by a Jewish medical student, Max Talmey, who gave him a
book on geometry, and so set him upon a course of enthusiastic study which
made him, at the age of fourteen, a better mathematician than his masters. At
this stage also he began the study of philosophy, reading and re-reading the
words of Kant and other metaphysicians.

Business reverses led the elder Einstein to make a fresh start in Milan, thus
introducing Albert to the joys of a freer, sunnier life than had been possible in
Germany. Necessity, however, made this holiday a brief one, and after a few
months of freedom the preparation for a career began. It opened with an
effort, backed by a certificate of mathematical proficiency given by a teacher
in the Gymnasium at Munich, to obtain admission to the Polytechnic Academy
at Zurich. A year passed in the study of necessary subjects which he had
neglected for mathematics, but once admitted, the young Einstein became
absorbed in the pursuit of science and philosophy and made astonishing
progress. After five distinguished years at the Polytechnic he hoped to step
into the post of assistant professor, but found that the kindly words of the
professors who had stimulated the hope did not materialize.

Then followed a weary search for work, two brief interludes of teaching, and
a stable appointment as examiner at the Confederate Patent Office at Berrie.
Humdrum as the work was, it had the double advantage of providing a
competence and of leaving his mind free for the mathematical speculations
which were then taking shape in the theory of relativity. In 1905 his first
monograph on the theory was published in a Swiss scientific journal, the
Annalen der Physik. Zurich awoke to the fact that it possessed a genius in
the form of a patent office clerk, promoted him to be a lecturer at the
University and four years later--in 1909--installed him as Professor.

His next appointment was (in 1911) at the University of Prague, where he
remained for eighteen months. Following a brief return to Zurich, he went,
early in 1914, to Berlin as a professor in the Prussian Academy of Sciences
and director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Theoretical Physics. The
period of the Great War was a trying time for Einstein, who could not conceal
his ardent pacifism, but he found what solace he could in his studies. Later
events brought him into the open and into many parts of the world, as an
exponent not only of pacifism but also of world-disarmament and the cause of
Jewry. To a man of such views, as passionately held as they were by Einstein,
Germany under the Nazis was patently impossible. In 1933 Einstein made his
famous declaration: "As long as I have any choice, I will stay only in a country
where political liberty, toleration, and equality of all citizens before the law are
the rule." For a time he was a homeless exile; after offers had come to him
from Spain and France and Britain, he settled in Princeton as Professor of
Mathematical and Theoretical Physics, happy in his work, rejoicing in a free
environment, but haunted always by the tragedy of war and oppression.

The World As I See It, in its original form, includes essays by Einstein on
relativity and cognate subjects. For reasons indicated above, these have been
omitted in the present edition; the object of this reprint is simply to reveal to
the general reader the human side of one of the most dominating figures of our
day.

I

The World As I See It

The Meaning of Life


What is the meaning of human life, or of organic life altogether? To answer
this question at all implies a religion. Is there any sense then, you ask, in
putting it? I answer, the man who regards his own life and that of his
fellow-creatures as meaningless is not merely unfortunate but almost
disqualified for life.

The World as I see it


What an extraordinary situation is that of us mortals! Each of us is here for a
brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he
feels it. But from the point of view of daily life, without going deeper, we exist
for our fellow-men--in the first place for those on whose smiles and welfare all
our happiness depends, and next for all those unknown to us personally with
whose destinies we are bound up by the tie of sympathy. A hundred times
every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depend on the labours
of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in
the same measure as I have received and am still receiving. I am strongly
drawn to the simple life and am often oppressed by the feeling that I am
engrossing an unnecessary amount of the labour of my fellow-men. I regard
class differences as contrary to justice and, in the last resort, based on force. I
also consider that plain living is good for everybody, physically and mentally.

In human freedom in the philosophical sense I am definitely a disbeliever.
Everybody acts not only under external compulsion but also in accordance
with inner necessity. Schopenhauer's saying, that "a man can do as he will, but
not will as he will," has been an inspiration to me since my youth up, and a
continual consolation and unfailing well-spring of patience in the face of the
hardships of life, my own and others'. This feeling mercifully mitigates the
sense of responsibility which so easily becomes paralysing, and it prevents us
from taking ourselves and other people too seriously; it conduces to a view of
life in which humour, above all, has its due place.

To inquire after the meaning or object of one's own existence or of creation
generally has always seemed to me absurd from an objective point of view.
And yet everybody has certain ideals which determine the direction of his
endeavours and his judgments. In this sense I have never looked upon ease
and happiness as ends in themselves--such an ethical basis I call more proper
for a herd of swine. The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time
after time given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth,
Goodness, and Beauty. Without the sense of fellowship with men of like mind,
of preoccupation with the objective, the eternally unattainable in the field of art
and scientific research, life would have seemed to me empty. The ordinary
objects of human endeavour--property, outward success, luxury--have
always seemed to me contemptible.

My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always
contrasted oddly with my pronounced freedom from the need for direct
contact with other human beings and human communities. I gang my own gait
and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my
immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties I have never
lost an obstinate sense of detachment, of the need for solitude--a feeling
which increases with the years. One is sharply conscious, yet without regret,
of the limits to the possibility of mutual understanding and sympathy with one's
fellow-creatures. Such a person no doubt loses something in the way of
geniality and light-heartedness ; on the other hand, he is largely independent of
the opinions, habits, and judgments of his fellows and avoids the temptation to
take his stand on such insecure foundations.

My political ideal is that of democracy. Let every man be respected as an
individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the
recipient of excessive admiration and respect from my fellows through no
fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire,
unattainable for many, to understand the one or two ideas to which I have
with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware
that it is necessary for the success of any complex undertaking that one man
should do the thinking and directing and in general bear the responsibility. But
the led must not be compelled, they must be able to choose their leader. An
autocratic system of coercion, in my opinion, soon degenerates. For force
always attracts men of low morality, and I believe it to be an invariable rule
that tyrants of genius are succeeded by scoundrels. For this reason I have
always been passionately opposed to systems such as we see in Italy and
Russia to-day. The thing that has brought discredit upon the prevailing form of
democracy in Europe to-day is not to be laid to the door of the democratic
idea as such, but to lack of stability on the part of the heads of governments
and to the impersonal character of the electoral system. I believe that in this
respect the United States of America have found the right way. They have a
responsible President who is elected for a sufficiently long period and has
sufficient powers to be really responsible. On the other hand, what I value in
our political system is the more extensive provision that it makes for the
individual in case of illness or need. The really valuable thing in the pageant of
human life seems to me not the State but the creative, sentient individual, the
personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such
remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.

This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of the herd nature, the military
system, which I abhor. That a man can take pleasure in marching in formation
to the strains of a band is enough to make me despise him. He has only been
given his big brain by mistake; a backbone was all he needed. This
plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed.
Heroism by order, senseless violence, and all the pestilent nonsense that does
by the name of patriotism--how I hate them! War seems to me a mean,
contemptible thing: I would rather be hacked in pieces than take part in such
an abominable business. And yet so high, in spite of everything, is my opinion
of the human race that I believe this bogey would have disappeared long ago,
had the sound sense of the nations not been systematically corrupted by
commercial and political interests acting through the schools and the Press.

The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental
emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who
knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good
as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery--even if
mixed with fear--that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of
something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest
reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in
their most elementary forms--it is this knowledge and this emotion that
constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a
deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes
his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves.
An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my
comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or
absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of
life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the
single-hearted endeavour to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the
reason that manifests itself in nature.

The Liberty of Doctrine--à propos of the Guntbel Case


Academic chairs are many, but wise and noble teachers are few;
lecture-rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who
genuinely thirst after truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common
wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.
We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever
thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what Nature gives as one finds it.
But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind
characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to
individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little
bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred
years ago with that prevailing to-day. They had faith in the amelioration of
human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our
classics had lived and fought. In those days men strove for a larger political
unity, which at that time was called Germany. It was the students and the
teachers at the universities who kept these ideals alive.

To-day also there is an urge towards social progress, towards tolerance and
freedom of thought, towards a larger political unity, which we to-day call
Europe. But the students at our universities have ceased as completely as their
teachers to enshrine the hopes and ideals of the nation. Anyone who looks at
our times coolly and dispassionately must admit this.

We are assembled to-day to take stock of ourselves. The external reason for
this meeting is the Gumbel case. This apostle of justice has written about
unexpiated political crimes with devoted industry, high courage, and
exemplary fairness, and has done the community a signal service by his
books. And this is the man whom the students, and a good many of the staff,
of his university are to-day doing their best to expel.

Political passion cannot be allowed to go to such lengths. I am convinced that
every man who reads Herr Gumbel's books with an open mind will get the
same impression from them as I have. Men like him are needed if we are ever
to build up a healthy political society.

Let every man judge according to his own standards, by what he has himself
read, not by what others tell him.

If that happens, this Gumbel case, after an unedifying beginning, may still do
good.


Good and Evil


It is right in principle that those should be the best loved who have contributed
most to the elevation of the human race and human life. But, if one goes on to
ask who they are, one finds oneself in no inconsiderable difficulties. In the
case of political, and even of religious, leaders, it is often very doubtful
whether they have done more good or harm. Hence I most seriously believe
that one does people the best service by giving them some elevating work to
do and thus indirectly elevating them. This applies most of all to the great
artist, but also in a lesser degree to the scientist. To be sure, it is not the fruits
of scientific research that elevate a man and enrich his nature, but the urge to
understand, the intellectual work, creative or receptive. It would surely be
absurd to judge the value of the Talmud, for instance, by its intellectual fruits.

The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure
and the sense in which he has attained to liberation from the self.

Society and Personality


When we survey our lives and endeavours we soon observe that almost the
whole of our actions and desires are bound up with the existence of other
human beings. We see that our whole nature resembles that of the social
animals. We eat food that others have grow, wear clothes that others have
made, live in houses that others have built. The greater part of our knowledge
and beliefs has been communicated to us by other people through the medium
of a language which others have created. Without language our mental
capacities wuuld be poor indeed, comparable to those of the higher animals;
we have, therefore, to admit that we owe our principal advantage over the
beasts to the fact of living in human society. The individual, if left alone from
birth would remain primitive and beast-like in his thoughts and feelings to a
degree that we can hardly conceive. The individual is what he is and has the
significance that he has not so much in virtue of his individuality, but rather as a
member of a great human society, which directs his material and spiritual
existence from the cradle to the grave.

A man's value to the community depends primarily on how far his feelings,
thoughts, and actions are directed towards promoting the good of his fellows.
We call him good or bad according to how he stands in this matter. It looks at
first sight as if our estimate of a man depended entirely on his social qualities.

And yet such an attitude would be wrong. It is clear that all the valuable
things, material, spiritual, and moral, which we receive from society can be
traced back through countless generations to certain creative individuals. The
use of fire, the cultivation of edible plants, the steam engine--each was
discovered by one man.

Only the individual can think, and thereby create new values for society--nay,
even set up new moral standards to which the life of the community conforms.
Without creative, independently thinking and judging personalities the upward
development of society is as unthinkable as the development of the individual
personality without the nourishing soil of the community.

The health of society thus depends quite as much on the independence of the
individuals composing it as on their close political cohesion. It has been said
very justly that Græco-Europeo-American culture as a whole, and in
particular its brilliant flowering in the Italian Renaissance, which put an end to
the stagnation of mediæval Europe, is based on the liberation and comparative
isolation of the individual.

Let us now consider the times in which we live. How does society fare, how
the individual? The population of the civilized countries is extremely dense as
compared with former times; Europe to-day contains about three times as
many people as it did a hundred years ago. But the number of great men has
decreased out of all proportion. Only a few individuals are known to the
masses as personalities, through their creative achievements. Organization has
to some extent taken the place of the great man, particularly in the technical
sphere, but also to a very perceptible extent in the scientific.

The lack of outstanding figures is particularly striking in the domain of art.
Painting and music have definitely degenerated and largely lost their popular
appeal. In politics not only are leaders lacking, but the independence of spent
and the sense of justice of the citizen have to a great extent declined. The
democratic, parliamentarian regime, which is based on such independence,
has in many places been shaken, dictatorships have sprung up and are
tolerated, because men's sense of the dignity and the rights of the individual is
no longer strong enough. In two weeks the sheep-like masses can be worked
up by the newspapers into such a state of excited fury that the men are
prepared to put on uniform and kill and be billed, for the sake of the worthless
aims of a few interested parties. Compulsory military service seems to me the
most disgraceful symptom of that deficiency in personal dignity from which
civilized mankind is suffering to-day. No wonder there is no lack of prophets
who prophesy the early eclipse of our civilization. I am not one of these
pessimists; I believe that better times are coming. Let me shortly state my
reasons for such confidence.

In my opinion, the present symptoms of decadence are explained by the fact
that the development of industry and machinery has made the struggle for
existence very much more severe, greatly to the detriment of the free
development of the individual. But the development of machinery means that
less and less work is needed from the individual for the satisfaction of the
community's needs. A planned division of labour is becoming more and more
of a crying necessity, and this division will lead to the material security of the
individual. This security and the spare time and energy which the individual will
have at his command can be made to further his development. In this way the
community may regain its health, and we will hope that future historians will
explain the morbid symptoms of present-day society as the childhood ailments
of an aspiring humanity, due entirely to the excessive speed at which
civilization was advancing.


Address at the Grave of H. A. Lorentz

It is as the representative of the German-speaking academic world, and in
particular the Prussian Academy of Sciences, but above all as a pupil and
affectionate admirer that I stand at the grave of the greatest and noblest man
of our times. His genius was the torch which lighted the way from the
teachings of Clerk Maxwell to the achievements of contemporary physics, to
the fabric of which he contributed valuable materials and methods.

His life was ordered like a work of art down to the smallest detail. His
never-failing kindness and magnanimity and his sense of justice, coupled with
an intuitive understanding of people and things, made him a leader in any
sphere he entered. Everyone followed him gladly, for they felt that he never
set out to dominate but always simply to be of use. His work and his example
will live on as an inspiration and guide to future generations.

H. A. Lorentz's work in the cause of International
Co-operation

With the extensive specialization of scientific research which the nineteenth
century brought about, it has become rare for a man occupying a leading
position in one of the sciences to manage at the same time to do valuable
service to the community in the sphere of international organization and
international. politics. Such service demands not only energy, insight, and a
reputation based on solid achievements, but also a freedom from national
prejudice and a devotion to the common ends of all, which have become rare
in our times. I have met no one who combined all these qualities in himself so
perfectly as H. A. Lorentz. The marvellous thing about the effect of his
personality was this: Independent and headstrong natures, such as are
particularly common among men of learning, do not readily bow to another's
will and for the most part only accept his leadership grudgingly. But, when
Lorentz is in the presidential chair, an atmosphere of happy co-operation is
invariably created, however much those present may differ in their aims and
habits of thought. The secret of this success lies not only in his swift
comprehension of people and things and his marvellous command of
language, but above all in this, that one feels that his whole heart is in the
business in hand, and that, when he is at work, he has room for nothing else in
his mind. Nothing disarms the recalcitrant so much as this.

Before the war Lorentz's activities in the cause of international relations were
confined to presiding at congresses of physicists. Particularly noteworthy
among these were the Solvay Congresses, the first two of which were held at
Brussels in 1909 and 1912. Then came the European war, which was a
crushing blow to all who had the improvement of human relations in general at
heart. Even before the war was over, and still more after its end, Lorentz
devoted himself to the work of reconciliation. His efforts were especially
directed towards the re-establishment of fruitful and friendly co-operation
between men of learning and scientific societies. An outsider can hardly
conceive what uphill work this is. The accumulated resentment of the war
period has not yet died down, and many influential men persist in the
irreconcilable attitude into which they allowed themselves to be driven by the
pressure of circumstances. Hence Lorentz's efforts resemble those of a doctor
with a recalcitrant patient who refuses to take the medicines carefully
prepared for his benefit.

But Lorentz is not to be deterred, once he has recognized a course of action
as the right one. The moment the war was over, he joined the governing body
of the "Conseil de recherche," which was founded by the savants of the
victorious countries, and from which the savants and learned societies of the
Central Powers were excluded. His object in taking this step, which caused
great offence to the academic world of the Central Powers, was to influence
this institution in such a way that it could be expanded into something truly
international. He and other right-minded men succeeded, after repeated
efforts, in securing the removal of the offensive exclusion-clause from the
statutes of the "Conseil." The goal, which is the restoration of normal and
fruitful co-operation between learned societies, is, however, not yet attained,
because the academic world of the Central Powers, exasperated by nearly
ten years of exclusion from practically all international gatherings, has got into
a habit of keeping itself to itself. Now, however, there are good grounds for
hoping that the ice will soon be broken, thanks to the tactful efforts of
Lorentz, prompted by pure enthusiasm for the good cause.

Lorentz has also devoted his energies to the service of international cultural
ends in another way, by consenting to serve on the League of Nations
Commission for international intellectual co-operation, which was called into
existence some five years ago with Bergson as chairman. For the last year
Lorentz has presided over the Commission, which, with the active support of
its subordinate, the Paris Institute, is to act as a go-between in the domain of
intellectual and artistic work among the various spheres of culture. There too
the beneficent influence of this intelligent, humane, and modest personality,
whose unspoken but faithfully followed advice is, "Not mastery but service,"
will lead people in the right way.

May his example contribute to the triumph of that spirit !


In Honour of Arnold Berliner's Seventieth Birthday

(Arnold Berliner is the editor of the periodical Die
Naturrvissenschaften.)

I should like to take this opportunity of telling my friend Berliner and the
readers of this paper why I rate him and his work so highly. It has to be done
here because it is one's only chance of getting such things said; since our
training in objectivity has led to a taboo on everything personal, which we
mortals may transgress only on quite exceptional occasions such as the
present one.

And now, after this dash for liberty, back to the objective! The province of
scientifically determined fact has been enormously extended, theoretical
knowledge has become vastly more profound in every department of science.
But the assimilative power of the human intellect is and remains strictly limited.
Hence it was inevitable that the activity of the individual investigator should be
confined to a smaller and smaller section of human knowledge. Worse still, as
a result of this specialization, it is becoming increasingly difficult for even a
rough general grasp of science as a whole, without which the true spirit of
research is inevitably handicapped, to keep pace with progress. A situation is
developing similar to the one symbolically represented in the Bible by the
story of the Tower of Babel. Every serious scientific worker is painfully
conscious of this involuntary relegation to an ever-narrowing sphere of
knowledge, which is threatening to deprive the investigator of his broad
horizon and degrade him to the level of a mechanic.

We have all suffered under this evil, without making any effort to mitigate it.
But Berliner has come to the rescue, as far as the German-speaking world is
concerned, in the most admirable way: He saw that the existing popular
periodicals were sufficient to instruct and stimulate the layman; but he also
saw that a first-class, well-edited organ was needed for the guidance of the
scientific worker who desired to be put sufficiently au courant of
developments in scientific problems, methods, and results to be able to form a
judgment of his own. Through many years of hard work he has devoted
himself to this object with great intelligence and no less great determination,
and done us all, and science, a service for which we cannot be too grateful.

It was necessary for him to secure the co-operation of successful scientific
writers and induce them to say what they had to say in a form as far as
possible intelligible to non-specialists. He has often told me of the fights he
had in pursuing this object, the difficulties of which he once described to me in
the following riddle: Question : What is a scientific author? Answer: A cross
between a mimosa and a porcupine.* Berliner's achievement would have
been impossible but for the peculiar intensity of his longing for a clear,
comprehensive view of the largest possible area of scientific country. This
feeling also drove him to produce a text-book of physics, the fruit of many
years of strenuous work, of which a medical student said to me the other day:
"I don't know how I should ever have got a clear idea of the principles of
modern physics in the time at my disposal without this book."

Berliner's fight for clarity and comprehensiveness of outlook has done a great
deal to bring the problems, methods, and results of science home to many
people's minds. The scientific life of our time is simply inconceivable vzthout
his paper. It is just as important to make knowledge live and to keep it alive
as to solve specific problems. We are all conscious of what we owe to
Arnold Berliner.

*Do not be angry with me for this indiscretion, my dear Berliner. A
serious-minded man enjoys a good laugh now and then.

Popper-Lynhaus was more than a brilliant engineer and writer. He was one
of the few outstanding personalities who embody the conscience of a
generation. He has drummed it into us that society is responsible for the fate
of every individual and shown us a way to translate the consequent obligation
of the community into fact. The community or State was no fetish to him; he
based its right to demand sacrifices of the individual entirely on its duty to give
the individual personality a chance of harmonious development.


Obituary of the Surgeon, M. Katzenstein

During the eighteen years I spent in Berlin I had few close friends, and the
closest was Professor Katzenstein. For more than ten years I spent my leisure
hours during the summer months with him, mostly on his delightful yacht.
There we confided our experiences, ambitions, emotions to each other. We
both felt that this friendship was not only a blessing because each understood
the other, was enriched by him, and found ins him that responsive echo so
essential to anybody who is truly alive; it also helped to make both of us more
independent of external experience, to objectivize it more easily.

I was a free man, bound neither by many duties nor by harassing
responsibilities; my friend, on the contrary, was never free from the grip of
urgent duties and anxious fears for the fate of those in peril. If, as was
invariably the case, he had performed some dangerous operations in the
morning, he would ring up on the telephone, immediately before we got into
the boat, to enquire after the condition of the patients about whom he was
worried; I could see how deeply concerned he was for the lives entrusted to
his care. It was marvellous that this shackled outward existence did not clip
the wings of his soul; his imagination and his sense of humour were
irrepressible. He never became the typical conscientious North German,
whom the Italians in the days of their freedom used to call bestia seriosa. He
was sensitive as a youth to the tonic beauty of the lakes and woods of
Brandenburg, and as he sailed the boat with an expert hand through these
beloved and familiar surroundings he opened the secret treasure-chamber of
his heart to me--he spoke of his experiments, scientific ideas, and ambitions.
How he found time and energy for them was always a mystery to me; but the
passion for scientific enquiry is not to be crushed by any burdens. The man
who is possessed with it perishes sooner than it does.

There were two types of problems that engaged his attention. The first forced
itself on him out of the necessities of his practice. Thus he was always thinking
out new ways of inducing healthy muscles to take the place of lost ones, by
ingenious transplantation of tendons. He found this remarkably easy, as he
possessed an uncommonly strong spatial imagination and a remarkably sure
feeling for mechanism. How happy he was when he had succeeded in making
somebody fit for normal life by putting right the muscular system of his face,
foot, or arm! And the same when he avoided an operation, even in cases
which had been sent to him by physicians for surgical treatment in cases of
gastric ulcer by neutralizing the pepsin. He also set great store by the
treatment of peritonitis by an anti-toxic coli-serum which he discovered, and
rejoiced in the successes he achieved with it. In talking of it he often lamented
the fact that this method of treatment was not endorsed by his colleagues.

The second group of problems had to do with the common conception of an
antagonism between different sorts of tissue. He believed that he was here on
the track of a general biological principle of widest application, whose
implications he followed out with admirable boldness and persistence. Starting
out from this basic notion he discovered that osteomyelon and periosteum
prevent each other's growth if they are not separated from each other by
bone. In this way he succeeded in explaining hitherto inexplicable cases of
wounds ailing to heal, and in bringing about a cure.

This general notion of the antagonism of the tissues, especially of epithelium
and connective tissue, was the subject to which he devoted his scientific
energies, especially in the last ten years of his life. Experiments on animals and
a systematic investigation of the growth of tissues in a nutrient fluid were
carried out side by side. How thankful he was, with his hands tied as they
were by his duties, to have found such an admirable and infinitely enthusiastic
fellow-worker in Frälein Knake! He succeeded in securing wonderful results
bearing on the factors which favour the growth of epithelium at the expense of
that of connective tissue, results which may well be of decisive importance for
the study of cancer. He also had the pleasure of inspiring his own son to
become his intelligent and independent fellow-worker, and of exciting the
warm interest and co-operation of Sauerbruch just in the last years of his life,
so that he was able to die with the consoling thought that his life's work would
not perish, but would be vigorously continued on the lines he had laid down.

I for my part am grateful to fate for having given me this man, with his
inexhaustible goodness and high creative gifts, for a friend.

Congratulations to Dr. Solf

I am delighted to be able to offer you, Dr. Solf, the heartiest congratulations,
the congratulations of Lessing College, of which you have become an
indispensable pillar, and the congratulations of all who are convinced of the
need for close contact between science and art and the public which is hungry
for spiritual nourishment.

You have not hesitated to apply your energies to a field where there are no
laurels to be won, but quiet, loyal work to be done in the interests of the
general standard of intellectual and spiritual life, which is in peculiar danger
to-day owing to a variety of circumstances. Exaggerated respect for athletics,
an excess of coarse impressions which the complications of life through the
technical discoveries of recent years has brought with it, the increased severity
of the struggle for existence due to the economic crisis, the brutalization of
political life--all these factors are hostile to the ripening of the character and
the desire for real culture, and stamp our age as barbarous, materialistic, and
superficial. Specialization in every sphere of intellectual work is producing an
everwidening gulf between the intellectual worker and the non-specialist,
which makes it more difficult for the life of the nation to be fertilized and
enriched by the achievements of art and science.

But contact between the intellectual and the masses must not be lost. It is
necessary for the elevation of society and no less so for renewing the strength
of the intellectual worker; for the flower of science does not grow in the
desert. For this reason you, Herr Solf, have devoted a portion of your
energies to Lessing College, and we are grateful to you for doing so. And we
wish you further success and happiness in your work for this noble cause.

Of Wealth

I am absolutely convinced that no wealth in the world can help humanity
forward, even in the hands of the most devoted worker in this cause. The
example of great and pure characters is the only thing that can produce fine
ideas and noble deeds. Money only appeals to selfishness and always tempts
its owners irresistibly to abuse it.

Can anyone imagine Moses, Jesus, or Gandhi armed with the money-bags of
Carnegie?

Education and Educators

A letter.

Dear Miss _____,

I have read about sixteen pages of your manuscript and it made
me--smile. It is clever, well observed, honest, it stands on its
own feet up to a point, and yet it is so typically feminine, by
which I mean derivative and vitiated by personal rancour. I
suffered exactly the same treatment at the hands of my teachers,
who disliked me for my independence and passed me over
when they wanted assistants (I must admit that I was somewhat
less of a model student than you). But it would not have been
worth my while to write anything about my school life, still less
would I have liked to be responsible for anyone's printing or
actually reading it. Besides, one always cuts a poor figure if one
complains about others who are struggling for their place in the
sun too after their own fashion.

Therefore pocket your temperament and keep your manuscript
for your sons and daughters, m order that they may derive
consolation from it and--not give a damn for what their teachers
tell them or think of them.

Incidentally I am only coming to Princeton to research, not to
teach. There is too much education altogether, especially in
American schools. The only rational way of educating is to be an
example--of what to avoid, if one can't be the other sort.

With best wishes.

To the Schoolchildren of Japan

In sending this greeting to you Japanese schoolchildren, I can lay claim to a
special right to do so. For I have myself visited your beautiful country, seen its
cities and houses, its mountains and woods, and in them Japanese boys who
had learnt from them to love their country. A big fat book full of coloured
drawings by Japanese children lies always on my table.

If you get my message of greeting from all this distance, bethink you that ours
is the first age in history to bring about friendly and understanding intercourse
between people of different countries; in former times nations passed their
lives in mutual ignorance, and in fact hated or feared one another. May the
spirit of brotherly understanding gain ground more and more among them.
With this in mind I, an old man, greet you Japanese schoolchildren from afar
and hope that your generation may some day put mine to shame.

Teachers and Pupils

An address to children

(The principal art of the teacher is to awaken the joy in creation
and knowledge.)

My dear Children,

I rejoice to see you before me to-day, happy youth of a sunny and fortunate
land.

Bear in mind that the wonderful things you learn in your schools are the work
of many generations, produced by enthusiastic effort and infinite labour in
every country of the world. All this is put into your hands as your inheritance
in order that you may receive it, honour it, add to it, and one day faithfully
hand it on to your children. Thus do we mortals achieve immortality in the
permanent things which we create in common.

If you always keep that in mind you will find a meaning in life and work and
acquire the right attitude towards other nations and ages.

Paradise Lost

As late as the seventeenth century the savants and artists of all Europe were
so closely united by the bond of a common ideal that co-operation between
them was scarcely affected by political events. This unity was further
strengthened by the general use of the Latin language.

To-day we look back at this state of affairs as at a lost paradise. The passions
of nationalism have destroyed this community of the intellect, and the Latin
language, which once united the whole world, is dead. The men of learning
have become the chief mouthpieces of national tradition and lost their sense of
an intellectual commonwealth.

Nowadays we are faced with the curious fact that the politicians, the practical
men of affairs, have become the exponents of international ideas. It is they
who have created the League of Nations.


Religion and Science

Everything that the human race has done and thought is concerned with the
satisfaction of felt needs and the assuagement of pain. One has to keep this
constantly in mind if one wishes to understand spiritual movements and their
development. Feeling and desire are the motive forces behind all human
endeavour and human creation, in however exalted a guise the latter may
present itself to us. Now what are the feelings and needs that have led men to
religious thought and belief in the widest sense of the words? A little
consideration will suffice to show us that the most varying emotions preside
over the birth of religious thought and experience. With primitive man it is
above all fear that evokes religious notions--fear of hunger, wild beasts,
sickness, death. Since at this stage of existence understanding of causal
connexions is usually poorly developed, the human mind creates for itself
more or less analogous beings on whose wills and actions these fearful
happenings depend. One's object now is to secure the favour of these beings
by carrying out actions and offering sacrifices which, according to the tradition
handed down from generation to generation, propitiate them or make them
well disposed towards a mortal. I am speaking now of the religion of fear.
This, though not created, is in an important degree stabilized by the formation
of a special priestly caste which sets up as a mediator between the people and
the beings they fear, and erects a hegemony on this basis. In many cases the
leader or ruler whose position depends on other factors, or a privileged class,
combines priestly functions with its secular authority in order to make the
latter more secure; or the political rulers and the priestly caste make common
cause in their own interests.

The social feelings are another source of the crystallization of religion. Fathers
and mothers and the leaders of larger human communities are mortal and
fallible. The desire for guidance, love, and support prompts men to form the
social or moral conception of God. This is the God of Providence who
protects, disposes, rewards, and punishes, the God who, according to the
width of the believer's outlook, loves and cherishes the life of the tribe or of
the human race, or even life as such, the comforter in sorrow and unsatisfied
longing, who preserves the souls of the dead. This is the social or moral
conception of God.

The Jewish scriptures admirably illustrate the development from the religion of
fear to moral religion, which is continued in the New Testament. The religions
of all civilized peoples, especially the peoples of the Orient, are primarily
moral religions. The development from a religion of fear to moral religion is a
great step in a nation's life. That primitive religions are based entirely on fear
and the religions of civilized peoples purely on morality is a prejudice against
which we must be on our guard. The truth is that they are all intermediate
types, with this reservation, that on the higher levels of social life the religion of
morality predominates.

Common to all these types is the anthropomorphic character of their
conception of God. Only individuals of exceptional endowments and
exceptionally high-minded communities, as a general rule, get in any real sense
beyond this level. But there is a third state of religious experience which
belongs to all of them, even though it is rarely found in a pure form, and which
I will call cosmic religious feeling. It is very difficult to explain this feeling to
anyone who is entirely without it, especially as there is no anthropomorphic
conception of God corresponding to it.

The individual feels the nothingness of human desires and aims and the
sublimity and marvellous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in
the world of thought. He looks upon individual existence as a sort of prison
and wants to experience the universe as a single significant whole. The
beginnings of cosmic religious feeling already appear in earlier stages of
development--e.g., in many of the Psalms of David and in some of the
Prophets. Buddhism, as we have learnt from the wonderful writings of
Schopenhauer especially, contains a much stronger element of it.

The religious geniuses of all ages have been distinguished by this kind of
religious feeling, which knows no dogma and no God conceived in man's
image; so that there can be no Church whose central teachings are based on
it. Hence it is precisely among the heretics of every age that we find men who
were filled with the highest kind of religious feeling and were in many cases
regarded by their contemporaries as Atheists, sometimes also as saints.
Looked at in this light, men like Democritus, Francis of Assisi, and Spinoza
are closely akin to one another.

How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to
another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In
my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this
feeling and keep it alive in those who are capable of it.

We thus arrive at a conception of the relation of science to religion very
different from the usual one. When one views the matter historically one is
inclined to look upon science and religion as irreconcilable antagonists, and
for a very obvious reason. The man who is thoroughly convinced of the
universal operation of the law of causation cannot for a moment entertain the
idea of a being who interferes in the course of events--that is, if he takes the
hypothesis of causality really seriously. He has no use for the religion of fear
and equally little for social or moral religion. A God who rewards and
punishes is inconceivable to him for the simple reason that a man's actions are
determined by necessity, external and internal, so that in God's eyes he cannot
be responsible, any more than an inanimate object is responsible for the
motions it goes through. Hence science has been charged with undermining
morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behaviour should be based
effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is
necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by
fear and punishment and hope of reward after death.

It is therefore easy to see why the Churches have always fought science and
persecuted its devotees. On the other hand, I maintain that cosmic religious
feeling is the strongest and noblest incitement to scientific research. Only those
who realize the immense efforts and, above all, the devotion which pioneer
work in theoretical science demands, can grasp the strength of the emotion
out of which alone such work, remote as it is from the immediate realities of
life, can issue. What a deep conviction of the rationality of the universe and
what a yearning to understand, were it but a feeble reflection of the mind
revealed in this world, Kepler and Newton must have had to enable them to
spend years of solitary labour in disentangling the principles of celestial
mechanics! Those whose acquaintance with scientific research is derived
chiefly from its practical results easily develop a completely false notion of the
mentality of the men who, surrounded by a sceptical world, have shown the
way to those like-minded with themselves, scattered through the earth and the
centuries. Only one who has devoted his life to similar ends can have a vivid
realization of what has inspired these men and given them the strength to
remain true to their purpose in spite of countless failures. It is cosmic religious
feeling that gives a man strength of this sort. A contemporary has said, not
unjustly, that in this materialistic age of ours the serious scientific workers are
the only profoundly religious people.

The Religiousness of Science

You will hardly find one among the profounder sort of scientific minds without
a peculiar religious feeling of his own. But it is different from the religion of the
naive man. For the latter God is a being from whose care one hopes to benefit
and whose punishment one fears; a sublimation of a feeling similar to that of a
child for its father, a being to whom one stands to some extent in a personal
relation, however deeply it may be tinged with awe.

But the scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation. The future,
to him, is every whit as necessary and determined as the past. There is nothing
divine about morality, it is a purely human affair. His religious feeling takes the
form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals
an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic
thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. This
feeling is the guiding principle of his life and work, in so far as he succeeds in
keeping himself from the shackles of selfish desire. It is beyond question
closely akin to that which has possessed the religious geniuses of all ages.

The Plight of Science

The German-speaking countries are menaced by a danger to which those in
the know are in duty bound to call attention in the most emphatic terms. The
economic stress which political events bring in their train does not hit
everybody equally hard. Among the hardest hit are the institutions and
individuals whose material existence depends directly on the State. To this
category belong the scientific institutions and workers on whose work not
merely the well-being of science but also the position occupied by Germany
and Austria in the scale of culture very largely depends.

To grasp the full gravity of the situation it is necessary to bear in mind the
following consideration. In times of crisis people are generally blind to
everything outside their immediate necessities. For work which is directly
productive of material wealth they will pay. But science, if it is to flourish, must
have no practical end in view. As a general rule, the knowledge and the
methods which it creates only subserve practical ends indirectly and, in many
cases, not till after the lapse of several generations. Neglect of science leads
to a subsequent dearth of intellectual workers able, in virtue of their
independent outlook and judgment, to blaze new trails for industry or adapt
themselves to new situations. Where scientific enquiry is stunted the
intellectual life of the nation dries up, which means the withering of many
possibilities of future development. This is what we have to prevent. Now that
the State has been weakened as a result of nonpolitical causes, it is up to the
economically stronger members of the community to come to the rescue
directly, and prevent the decay of scientific life.

Far-sighted men with a clear understanding of the situation have set up
institutions by which scientific work of every sort is to be kept going in
Germany and Austria. Help to make these efforts a real success. In my
teaching work I see with admiration that economic troubles have not yet
succeeded in stifling the will and the enthusiasm for scientific research. Far
from it! Indeed, it looks as if our disasters had actually quickened the
devotion to non-material goods. Everywhere people are working with burning
enthusiasm in the most difficult circumstances. See to it that the will-power
and the talents of the youth of to-day do not perish to the grievous hurt of the
community as a whole.

Fascism and Science

A letter to Signor Rocco, Minister of State, Rome.

My dear Sir,

Two of the most eminent and respected men of science in Italy
have applied to me in their difficulties of conscience and
requested me to write to you with the object of preventing, if
possible, a piece of cruel persecution with which men of learning
are threatened in Italy. I refer to a form of oath in which fidelity
to the Fascist system is to be promised. The burden of my
request is that you should please advise Signor Mussolini to
spare the flower of Italy's intellect this humiliation.

However much our political convictions may differ, I know that
we agree on one point: in the progressive achievements of the
European mind both of us see and love our highest good. Those
achievements are based on the freedom of thought and of
teaching, on the principle that the desire for truth must take
precedence of all other desires. It was this basis alone that
enabled our civilization to take its rise in Greece and to celebrate
its rebirth in Italy at the Renaissance. This supreme good has
been paid for by the martyr's blood of pure and great men, for
whose sake Italy is still loved and reverenced to-day.

Far be it from me to argue with you about what inroads on
human liberty may be justified by reasons of State. But the
pursuit of scientific truth, detached from the practical interests of
everyday life, ought to be treated as sacred by every
Government, and it is in the highest interests of all that honest
servants of truth should be left in peace. This is also undoubtedly
in the interests of the Italian State and its prestige in the eyes of
the world.

Hoping that my request will not fall on deaf ears, I am, etc.

A. E.

Interviewers

To be called to account publicly for everything one has said, even in jest, an
excess of high spirits, or momentary anger, fatal as it must be in the end, is yet
up to a point reasonable and natural. But to be called to account publicly for
what others have said in one's name, when one cannot defend oneself, is
indeed a sad predicament. "But who suffers such a dreadful fate?" you will
ask. Well, everyone who is of sufficient interest to the public to be pursued by
interviewers. You smile incredulously, but I have had plenty of direct
experience and will tell you about it.

Imagine the following situation. One morning a reporter comes to you and
asks you in a friendly way to tell him something about your friend N. At first
you no doubt feel something approaching indignation at such a proposal. But
you soon discover that there is no escape. If you refuse to say anything, the
man writes: "I asked one of N.'s supposedly best friends about him. But he
prudently avoided my questions. This in itself enables the reader to draw the
inevitable conclusions." There is, therefore, no escape, and you give the
following information: "Mr. N. is a cheerful, straightforward man, much liked
by all his friends. He can find a bright side to any situation. His enterprise and
industry know no bounds; his job takes up his entire energies. He is devoted
to his family and lays everything he possesses at his wife's feet. . . "

Now for the reporter's version : "Mr. N. takes nothing very seriously and has
a gift for making himself liked, particularly as he carefully cultivates a hearty
and ingratiating manner. He is so completely a slave to his job that he has no
time for the considerations of any non-personal subject or for any mental
activity outside it. He spoils his wife unbelievably and is utterly under her
thumb. . ."

A real reporter would make it much more spicy, but I expect this will be
enough for you and your friend N. He reads this, and some more like it, in the
paper next morning, and his rage against you knows no bounds, however
cheerful and benevolent his natural disposition may be. The injury done to him
gives you untold pain, especially as you are really fond of him.

What's your next step, my friend? If you know, tell me quickly, so that I may
adopt your method with all speed.


Thanks to America

Mr. Mayor, Ladies, and Gentlemen,

The splendid reception which you have accorded to me to-day puts me to the
blush in so far as it is meant for me personally, but it gives me all the more
pleasure in so far as it is meant for me as a representative of pure science. For
this gathering is an outward and visible sign that the world is no longer prone
to regard material power and wealth as the highest goods. It is gratifying that
men should feel an urge to proclaim this in an official way.

In the wonderful two months which I have been privileged to spend in your
midst in this fortunate land, I have had many opportunities of observing what a
high value men of action and of practical life attach to the efforts of science; a
good few of them have placed a considerable proportion of their fortunes and
their energies at the service of scientific enterprises and thereby contributed to
the prosperity and prestige of this country.

I cannot let this occasion pass without referring in

[Freek1e]

Yawn

[FuNkY CaPrIcOrN]

Originally posted by UKMan@10 May 2003 - 09:21
This just goes to show you that a useless post by me about nothing in particular can make 2 pages and people will write anything to be a part of it

Peace
UKMan

True.....so true.

[scribblec]

what has this thread turned into

[ugluk]

[racer II]

Originally posted by scribblec@10 May 2003 - 16:25
what has this thread turned into

Well....
Erm.....




Edit, why is the quote in my next post too big to fit on the board?

[racer II]

[quote]Originally posted by JPaul@10 May 2003 - 15:52
[b] 3 is definitely possible

THE WORLD AS I SEE IT
Albert Einstein



PREFACE TO ORIGINAL EDITION

Only individuals have a sense of responsibility. --Nietzsche

This book does not represent a complete collection of the articles, addresses,
and pronouncements of Albert Einstein; it is a selection made with a definite
object-- namely, to give a picture of a man. To-day this man is being drawn,
contrary to his own intention, into the whirlpool of political passions and
contemporary history. As a result, Einstein is experiencing the fate that so
many of the great men of history experienced: his character and opinions are
being exhibited to the world in an utterly distorted form.

To forestall this fate is the real object of this book. It meets a wish that has
constantly been expressed both by Einstein's friends and by the wider public.
It contains work belonging to the most various dates-- the article on "The
International of Science" dates from the year 1922, the address on "The
Principles of Scientific Research" from 1923, the "Letter to an Arab" from
1930--and the most various spheres, held together by the unity of the
personality which stands behind all these utterances. Albert Einstein believes
in humanity, in a peaceful world of mutual helpfulness, and in the high mission
of science. This book is intended as a plea for this belief at a time which
compels every one of us to overhaul his mental attitude and his ideas.

J. H.


INTRODUCTION TO ABRIDGED
EDITION

In his biography of Einstein Mr. H. Gordou Garbedian relates that an
American newspaper man asked the great physicist for a definition of his
theory of relativity in one sentence. Einstein replied that it would take him
three days to give a short definition of relativity. He might well have added
that unless his questioner had an intimate acquaintance with mathematics and
physics, the definition would be incomprehensible.

To the majority of people Einstein's theory is a complete mystery. Their
attitude towards Einstein is like that of Mark Twain towards the writer of a
work on mathematics: here was a man who had written an entire book of
which Mark could not understand a single sentence. Einstein, therefore, is
great in the public eye partly because he has made revolutionary discoveries
which cannot be translated into the common tongue. We stand in proper awe
of a man whose thoughts move on heights far beyond our range, whose
achievements can be measured only by the few who are able to follow his
reasoning and challenge his conclusions.

There is, however, another side to his personality. It is revealed in the
addresses, letters, and occasional writings brought together in this book.
These fragments form a mosaic portrait of Einstein the man. Each one is, in a
sense, complete in itself; it presents his views on some aspect of progress,
education, peace, war, liberty, or other problems of universal interest. Their
combined effect is to demonstrate that the Einstein we can all understand is no
less great than the Einstein we take on trust.

Einstein has asked nothing more from life than the freedom to pursue his
researches into the mechanism of the universe. His nature is of rare simplicity
and sincerity; he always has been, and he remains, genuinely indifferent to
wealth and fame and the other prizes so dear to ambition. At the same time he
is no recluse, shutting himself off from the sorrows and agitations of the world
around him. Himself familiar from early years with the handicap of poverty
and with some of the worst forms of man's inhumanity to man, he has never
spared himself in defence of the weak and the oppressed. Nothing could be
more unwelcome to his sensitive and retiring character than the glare of the
platform and the heat of public controversy, yet he has never hesitated when
he felt that his voice or influence would help to redress a wrong. History,
surely, has few parallels with this introspective mathematical genius who
laboured unceasingly as an eager champion of the rights of man.

Albert Einstein was born in 1879 at Ulm. When he was four years old his
father, who owned an electrochemical works, moved to Munich, and two
years later the boy went to school, experiencing a rigid, almost military, type
of discipline and also the isolation of a shy and contemplative Jewish child
among Roman Catholics-- factors which made a deep and enduring
impression. From the point of view of his teachers he was an unsatisfactory
pupil, apparently incapable of progress in languages, history, geography, and
other primary subjects. His interest in mathematics was roused, not by his
instructors, but by a Jewish medical student, Max Talmey, who gave him a
book on geometry, and so set him upon a course of enthusiastic study which
made him, at the age of fourteen, a better mathematician than his masters. At
this stage also he began the study of philosophy, reading and re-reading the
words of Kant and other metaphysicians.

Business reverses led the elder Einstein to make a fresh start in Milan, thus
introducing Albert to the joys of a freer, sunnier life than had been possible in
Germany. Necessity, however, made this holiday a brief one, and after a few
months of freedom the preparation for a career began. It opened with an
effort, backed by a certificate of mathematical proficiency given by a teacher
in the Gymnasium at Munich, to obtain admission to the Polytechnic Academy
at Zurich. A year passed in the study of necessary subjects which he had
neglected for mathematics, but once admitted, the young Einstein became
absorbed in the pursuit of science and philosophy and made astonishing
progress. After five distinguished years at the Polytechnic he hoped to step
into the post of assistant professor, but found that the kindly words of the
professors who had stimulated the hope did not materialize.

Then followed a weary search for work, two brief interludes of teaching, and
a stable appointment as examiner at the Confederate Patent Office at Berrie.
Humdrum as the work was, it had the double advantage of providing a
competence and of leaving his mind free for the mathematical speculations
which were then taking shape in the theory of relativity. In 1905 his first
monograph on the theory was published in a Swiss scientific journal, the
Annalen der Physik. Zurich awoke to the fact that it possessed a genius in
the form of a patent office clerk, promoted him to be a lecturer at the
University and four years later--in 1909--installed him as Professor.

His next appointment was (in 1911) at the University of Prague, where he
remained for eighteen months. Following a brief return to Zurich, he went,
early in 1914, to Berlin as a professor in the Prussian Academy of Sciences
and director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Theoretical Physics. The
period of the Great War was a trying time for Einstein, who could not conceal
his ardent pacifism, but he found what solace he could in his studies. Later
events brought him into the open and into many parts of the world, as an
exponent not only of pacifism but also of world-disarmament and the cause of
Jewry. To a man of such views, as passionately held as they were by Einstein,
Germany under the Nazis was patently impossible. In 1933 Einstein made his
famous declaration: "As long as I have any choice, I will stay only in a country
where political liberty, toleration, and equality of all citizens before the law are
the rule." For a time he was a homeless exile; after offers had come to him
from Spain and France and Britain, he settled in Princeton as Professor of
Mathematical and Theoretical Physics, happy in his work, rejoicing in a free
environment, but haunted always by the tragedy of war and oppression.

The World As I See It, in its original form, includes essays by Einstein on
relativity and cognate subjects. For reasons indicated above, these have been
omitted in the present edition; the object of this reprint is simply to reveal to
the general reader the human side of one of the most dominating figures of our
day.

I

The World As I See It

The Meaning of Life


What is the meaning of human life, or of organic life altogether? To answer
this question at all implies a religion. Is there any sense then, you ask, in
putting it? I answer, the man who regards his own life and that of his
fellow-creatures as meaningless is not merely unfortunate but almost
disqualified for life.

The World as I see it


What an extraordinary situation is that of us mortals! Each of us is here for a
brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he
feels it. But from the point of view of daily life, without going deeper, we exist
for our fellow-men--in the first place for those on whose smiles and welfare all
our happiness depends, and next for all those unknown to us personally with
whose destinies we are bound up by the tie of sympathy. A hundred times
every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depend on the labours
of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in
the same measure as I have received and am still receiving. I am strongly
drawn to the simple life and am often oppressed by the feeling that I am
engrossing an unnecessary amount of the labour of my fellow-men. I regard
class differences as contrary to justice and, in the last resort, based on force. I
also consider that plain living is good for everybody, physically and mentally.

In human freedom in the philosophical sense I am definitely a disbeliever.
Everybody acts not only under external compulsion but also in accordance
with inner necessity. Schopenhauer's saying, that "a man can do as he will, but
not will as he will," has been an inspiration to me since my youth up, and a
continual consolation and unfailing well-spring of patience in the face of the
hardships of life, my own and others'. This feeling mercifully mitigates the
sense of responsibility which so easily becomes paralysing, and it prevents us
from taking ourselves and other people too seriously; it conduces to a view of
life in which humour, above all, has its due place.

To inquire after the meaning or object of one's own existence or of creation
generally has always seemed to me absurd from an objective point of view.
And yet everybody has certain ideals which determine the direction of his
endeavours and his judgments. In this sense I have never looked upon ease
and happiness as ends in themselves--such an ethical basis I call more proper
for a herd of swine. The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time
after time given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth,
Goodness, and Beauty. Without the sense of fellowship with men of like mind,
of preoccupation with the objective, the eternally unattainable in the field of art
and scientific research, life would have seemed to me empty. The ordinary
objects of human endeavour--property, outward success, luxury--have
always seemed to me contemptible.

My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always
contrasted oddly with my pronounced freedom from the need for direct
contact with other human beings and human communities. I gang my own gait
and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my
immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties I have never
lost an obstinate sense of detachment, of the need for solitude--a feeling
which increases with the years. One is sharply conscious, yet without regret,
of the limits to the possibility of mutual understanding and sympathy with one's
fellow-creatures. Such a person no doubt loses something in the way of
geniality and light-heartedness ; on the other hand, he is largely independent of
the opinions, habits, and judgments of his fellows and avoids the temptation to
take his stand on such insecure foundations.

My political ideal is that of democracy. Let every man be respected as an
individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the
recipient of excessive admiration and respect from my fellows through no
fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire,
unattainable for many, to understand the one or two ideas to which I have
with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware
that it is necessary for the success of any complex undertaking that one man
should do the thinking and directing and in general bear the responsibility. But
the led must not be compelled, they must be able to choose their leader. An
autocratic system of coercion, in my opinion, soon degenerates. For force
always attracts men of low morality, and I believe it to be an invariable rule
that tyrants of genius are succeeded by scoundrels. For this reason I have
always been passionately opposed to systems such as we see in Italy and
Russia to-day. The thing that has brought discredit upon the prevailing form of
democracy in Europe to-day is not to be laid to the door of the democratic
idea as such, but to lack of stability on the part of the heads of governments
and to the impersonal character of the electoral system. I believe that in this
respect the United States of America have found the right way. They have a
responsible President who is elected for a sufficiently long period and has
sufficient powers to be really responsible. On the other hand, what I value in
our political system is the more extensive provision that it makes for the
individual in case of illness or need. The really valuable thing in the pageant of
human life seems to me not the State but the creative, sentient individual, the
personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such
remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.

This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of the herd nature, the military
system, which I abhor. That a man can take pleasure in marching in formation
to the strains of a band is enough to make me despise him. He has only been
given his big brain by mistake; a backbone was all he needed. This
plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed.
Heroism by order, senseless violence, and all the pestilent nonsense that does
by the name of patriotism--how I hate them! War seems to me a mean,
contemptible thing: I would rather be hacked in pieces than take part in such
an abominable business. And yet so high, in spite of everything, is my opinion
of the human race that I believe this bogey would have disappeared long ago,
had the sound sense of the nations not been systematically corrupted by
commercial and political interests acting through the schools and the Press.

The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental
emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who
knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good
as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery--even if
mixed with fear--that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of
something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest
reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in
their most elementary forms--it is this knowledge and this emotion that
constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a
deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes
his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves.
An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my
comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or
absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of
life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the
single-hearted endeavour to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the
reason that manifests itself in nature.

The Liberty of Doctrine--à propos of the Guntbel Case


Academic chairs are many, but wise and noble teachers are few;
lecture-rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who
genuinely thirst after truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common
wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.
We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever
thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what Nature gives as one finds it.
But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind
characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to
individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little
bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred
years ago with that prevailing to-day. They had faith in the amelioration of
human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our
classics had lived and fought. In those days men strove for a larger political
unity, which at that time was called Germany. It was the students and the
teachers at the universities who kept these ideals alive.

To-day also there is an urge towards social progress, towards tolerance and
freedom of thought, towards a larger political unity, which we to-day call
Europe. But the students at our universities have ceased as completely as their
teachers to enshrine the hopes and ideals of the nation. Anyone who looks at
our times coolly and dispassionately must admit this.

We are assembled to-day to take stock of ourselves. The external reason for
this meeting is the Gumbel case. This apostle of justice has written about
unexpiated political crimes with devoted industry, high courage, and
exemplary fairness, and has done the community a signal service by his
books. And this is the man whom the students, and a good many of the staff,
of his university are to-day doing their best to expel.

Political passion cannot be allowed to go to such lengths. I am convinced that
every man who reads Herr Gumbel's books with an open mind will get the
same impression from them as I have. Men like him are needed if we are ever
to build up a healthy political society.

Let every man judge according to his own standards, by what he has himself
read, not by what others tell him.

If that happens, this Gumbel case, after an unedifying beginning, may still do
good.


Good and Evil


It is right in principle that those should be the best loved who have contributed
most to the elevation of the human race and human life. But, if one goes on to
ask who they are, one finds oneself in no inconsiderable difficulties. In the
case of political, and even of religious, leaders, it is often very doubtful
whether they have done more good or harm. Hence I most seriously believe
that one does people the best service by giving them some elevating work to
do and thus indirectly elevating them. This applies most of all to the great
artist, but also in a lesser degree to the scientist. To be sure, it is not the fruits
of scientific research that elevate a man and enrich his nature, but the urge to
understand, the intellectual work, creative or receptive. It would surely be
absurd to judge the value of the Talmud, for instance, by its intellectual fruits.

The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure
and the sense in which he has attained to liberation from the self.

Society and Personality


When we survey our lives and endeavours we soon observe that almost the
whole of our actions and desires are bound up with the existence of other
human beings. We see that our whole nature resembles that of the social
animals. We eat food that others have grow, wear clothes that others have
made, live in houses that others have built. The greater part of our knowledge
and beliefs has been communicated to us by other people through the medium
of a language which others have created. Without language our mental
capacities wuuld be poor indeed, comparable to those of the higher animals;
we have, therefore, to admit that we owe our principal advantage over the
beasts to the fact of living in human society. The individual, if left alone from
birth would remain primitive and beast-like in his thoughts and feelings to a
degree that we can hardly conceive. The individual is what he is and has the
significance that he has not so much in virtue of his individuality, but rather as a
member of a great human society, which directs his material and spiritual
existence from the cradle to the grave.

A man's value to the community depends primarily on how far his feelings,
thoughts, and actions are directed towards promoting the good of his fellows.
We call him good or bad according to how he stands in this matter. It looks at
first sight as if our estimate of a man depended entirely on his social qualities.

And yet such an attitude would be wrong. It is clear that all the valuable
things, material, spiritual, and moral, which we receive from society can be
traced back through countless generations to certain creative individuals. The
use of fire, the cultivation of edible plants, the steam engine--each was
discovered by one man.

Only the individual can think, and thereby create new values for society--nay,
even set up new moral standards to which the life of the community conforms.
Without creative, independently thinking and judging personalities the upward
development of society is as unthinkable as the development of the individual
personality without the nourishing soil of the community.

The health of society thus depends quite as much on the independence of the
individuals composing it as on their close political cohesion. It has been said
very justly that Græco-Europeo-American culture as a whole, and in
particular its brilliant flowering in the Italian Renaissance, which put an end to
the stagnation of mediæval Europe, is based on the liberation and comparative
isolation of the individual.

Let us now consider the times in which we live. How does society fare, how
the individual? The population of the civilized countries is extremely dense as
compared with former times; Europe to-day contains about three times as
many people as it did a hundred years ago. But the number of great men has
decreased out of all proportion. Only a few individuals are known to the
masses as personalities, through their creative achievements. Organization has
to some extent taken the place of the great man, particularly in the technical
sphere, but also to a very perceptible extent in the scientific.

The lack of outstanding figures is particularly striking in the domain of art.
Painting and music have definitely degenerated and largely lost their popular
appeal. In politics not only are leaders lacking, but the independence of spent
and the sense of justice of the citizen have to a great extent declined. The
democratic, parliamentarian regime, which is based on such independence,
has in many places been shaken, dictatorships have sprung up and are
tolerated, because men's sense of the dignity and the rights of the individual is
no longer strong enough. In two weeks the sheep-like masses can be worked
up by the newspapers into such a state of excited fury that the men are
prepared to put on uniform and kill and be billed, for the sake of the worthless
aims of a few interested parties. Compulsory military service seems to me the
most disgraceful symptom of that deficiency in personal dignity from which
civilized mankind is suffering to-day. No wonder there is no lack of prophets
who prophesy the early eclipse of our civilization. I am not one of these
pessimists; I believe that better times are coming. Let me shortly state my
reasons for such confidence.

In my opinion, the present symptoms of decadence are explained by the fact
that the development of industry and machinery has made the struggle for
existence very much more severe, greatly to the detriment of the free
development of the individual. But the development of machinery means that
less and less work is needed from the individual for the satisfaction of the
community's needs. A planned division of labour is becoming more and more
of a crying necessity, and this division will lead to the material security of the
individual. This security and the spare time and energy which the individual will
have at his command can be made to further his development. In this way the
community may regain its health, and we will hope that future historians will
explain the morbid symptoms of present-day society as the childhood ailments
of an aspiring humanity, due entirely to the excessive speed at which
civilization was advancing.


Address at the Grave of H. A. Lorentz

It is as the representative of the German-speaking academic world, and in
particular the Prussian Academy of Sciences, but above all as a pupil and
affectionate admirer that I stand at the grave of the greatest and noblest man
of our times. His genius was the torch which lighted the way from the
teachings of Clerk Maxwell to the achievements of contemporary physics, to
the fabric of which he contributed valuable materials and methods.

His life was ordered like a work of art down to the smallest detail. His
never-failing kindness and magnanimity and his sense of justice, coupled with
an intuitive understanding of people and things, made him a leader in any
sphere he entered. Everyone followed him gladly, for they felt that he never
set out to dominate but always simply to be of use. His work and his example
will live on as an inspiration and guide to future generations.

H. A. Lorentz's work in the cause of International
Co-operation

With the extensive specialization of scientific research which the nineteenth
century brought about, it has become rare for a man occupying a leading
position in one of the sciences to manage at the same time to do valuable
service to the community in the sphere of international organization and
international. politics. Such service demands not only energy, insight, and a
reputation based on solid achievements, but also a freedom from national
prejudice and a devotion to the common ends of all, which have become rare
in our times. I have met no one who combined all these qualities in himself so
perfectly as H. A. Lorentz. The marvellous thing about the effect of his
personality was this: Independent and headstrong natures, such as are
particularly common among men of learning, do not readily bow to another's
will and for the most part only accept his leadership grudgingly. But, when
Lorentz is in the presidential chair, an atmosphere of happy co-operation is
invariably created, however much those present may differ in their aims and
habits of thought. The secret of this success lies not only in his swift
comprehension of people and things and his marvellous command of
language, but above all in this, that one feels that his whole heart is in the
business in hand, and that, when he is at work, he has room for nothing else in
his mind. Nothing disarms the recalcitrant so much as this.

Before the war Lorentz's activities in the cause of international relations were
confined to presiding at congresses of physicists. Particularly noteworthy
among these were the Solvay Congresses, the first two of which were held at
Brussels in 1909 and 1912. Then came the European war, which was a
crushing blow to all who had the improvement of human relations in general at
heart. Even before the war was over, and still more after its end, Lorentz
devoted himself to the work of reconciliation. His efforts were especially
directed towards the re-establishment of fruitful and friendly co-operation
between men of learning and scientific societies. An outsider can hardly
conceive what uphill work this is. The accumulated resentment of the war
period has not yet died down, and many influential men persist in the
irreconcilable attitude into which they allowed themselves to be driven by the
pressure of circumstances. Hence Lorentz's efforts resemble those of a doctor
with a recalcitrant patient who refuses to take the medicines carefully
prepared for his benefit.

But Lorentz is not to be deterred, once he has recognized a course of action
as the right one. The moment the war was over, he joined the governing body
of the "Conseil de recherche," which was founded by the savants of the
victorious countries, and from which the savants and learned societies of the
Central Powers were excluded. His object in taking this step, which caused
great offence to the academic world of the Central Powers, was to influence
this institution in such a way that it could be expanded into something truly
international. He and other right-minded men succeeded, after repeated
efforts, in securing the removal of the offensive exclusion-clause from the
statutes of the "Conseil." The goal, which is the restoration of normal and
fruitful co-operation between learned societies, is, however, not yet attained,
because the academic world of the Central Powers, exasperated by nearly
ten years of exclusion from practically all international gatherings, has got into
a habit of keeping itself to itself. Now, however, there are good grounds for
hoping that the ice will soon be broken, thanks to the tactful efforts of
Lorentz, prompted by pure enthusiasm for the good cause.

Lorentz has also devoted his energies to the service of international cultural
ends in another way, by consenting to serve on the League of Nations
Commission for international intellectual co-operation, which was called into
existence some five years ago with Bergson as chairman. For the last year
Lorentz has presided over the Commission, which, with the active support of
its subordinate, the Paris Institute, is to act as a go-between in the domain of
intellectual and artistic work among the various spheres of culture. There too
the beneficent influence of this intelligent, humane, and modest personality,
whose unspoken but faithfully followed advice is, "Not mastery but service,"
will lead people in the right way.

May his example contribute to the triumph of that spirit !


In Honour of Arnold Berliner's Seventieth Birthday

(Arnold Berliner is the editor of the periodical Die
Naturrvissenschaften.)

I should like to take this opportunity of telling my friend Berliner and the
readers of this paper why I rate him and his work so highly. It has to be done
here because it is one's only chance of getting such things said; since our
training in objectivity has led to a taboo on everything personal, which we
mortals may transgress only on quite exceptional occasions such as the
present one.

And now, after this dash for liberty, back to the objective! The province of
scientifically determined fact has been enormously extended, theoretical
knowledge has become vastly more profound in every department of science.
But the assimilative power of the human intellect is and remains strictly limited.
Hence it was inevitable that the activity of the individual investigator should be
confined to a smaller and smaller section of human knowledge. Worse still, as
a result of this specialization, it is becoming increasingly difficult for even a
rough general grasp of science as a whole, without which the true spirit of
research is inevitably handicapped, to keep pace with progress. A situation is
developing similar to the one symbolically represented in the Bible by the
story of the Tower of Babel. Every serious scientific worker is painfully
conscious of this involuntary relegation to an ever-narrowing sphere of
knowledge, which is threatening to deprive the investigator of his broad
horizon and degrade him to the level of a mechanic.

We have all suffered under this evil, without making any effort to mitigate it.
But Berliner has come to the rescue, as far as the German-speaking world is
concerned, in the most admirable way: He saw that the existing popular
periodicals were sufficient to instruct and stimulate the layman; but he also
saw that a first-class, well-edited organ was needed for the guidance of the
scientific worker who desired to be put sufficiently au courant of
developments in scientific problems, methods, and results to be able to form a
judgment of his own. Through many years of hard work he has devoted
himself to this object with great intelligence and no less great determination,
and done us all, and science, a service for which we cannot be too grateful.

It was necessary for him to secure the co-operation of successful scientific
writers and induce them to say what they had to say in a form as far as
possible intelligible to non-specialists. He has often told me of the fights he
had in pursuing this object, the difficulties of which he once described to me in
the following riddle: Question : What is a scientific author? Answer: A cross
between a mimosa and a porcupine.* Berliner's achievement would have
been impossible but for the peculiar intensity of his longing for a clear,
comprehensive view of the largest possible area of scientific country. This
feeling also drove him to produce a text-book of physics, the fruit of many
years of strenuous work, of which a medical student said to me the other day:
"I don't know how I should ever have got a clear idea of the principles of
modern physics in the time at my disposal without this book."

Berliner's fight for clarity and comprehensiveness of outlook has done a great
deal to bring the problems, methods, and results of science home to many
people's minds. The scientific life of our time is simply inconceivable vzthout
his paper. It is just as important to make knowledge live and to keep it alive
as to solve specific problems. We are all conscious of what we owe to
Arnold Berliner.

*Do not be angry with me for this indiscretion, my dear Berliner. A
serious-minded man enjoys a good laugh now and then.

Popper-Lynhaus was more than a brilliant engineer and writer. He was one
of the few outstanding personalities who embody the conscience of a
generation. He has drummed it into us that society is responsible for the fate
of every individual and shown us a way to translate the consequent obligation
of the community into fact. The community or State was no fetish to him; he
based its right to demand sacrifices of the individual entirely on its duty to give
the individual personality a chance of harmonious development.


Obituary of the Surgeon, M. Katzenstein

During the eighteen years I spent in Berlin I had few close friends, and the
closest was Professor Katzenstein. For more than ten years I spent my leisure
hours during the summer months with him, mostly on his delightful yacht.
There we confided our experiences, ambitions, emotions to each other. We
both felt that this friendship was not only a blessing because each understood
the other, was enriched by him, and found ins him that responsive echo so
essential to anybody who is truly alive; it also helped to make both of us more
independent of external experience, to objectivize it more easily.

I was a free man, bound neither by many duties nor by harassing
responsibilities; my friend, on the contrary, was never free from the grip of
urgent duties and anxious fears for the fate of those in peril. If, as was
invariably the case, he had performed some dangerous operations in the
morning, he would ring up on the telephone, immediately before we got into
the boat, to enquire after the condition of the patients about whom he was
worried; I could see how deeply concerned he was for the lives entrusted to
his care. It was marvellous that this shackled outward existence did not clip
the wings of his soul; his imagination and his sense of humour were
irrepressible. He never became the typical conscientious North German,
whom the Italians in the days of their freedom used to call bestia seriosa. He
was sensitive as a youth to the tonic beauty of the lakes and woods of
Brandenburg, and as he sailed the boat with an expert hand through these
beloved and familiar surroundings he opened the secret treasure-chamber of
his heart to me--he spoke of his experiments, scientific ideas, and ambitions.
How he found time and energy for them was always a mystery to me; but the
passion for scientific enquiry is not to be crushed by any burdens. The man
who is possessed with it perishes sooner than it does.

There were two types of problems that engaged his attention. The first forced
itself on him out of the necessities of his practice. Thus he was always thinking
out new ways of inducing healthy muscles to take the place of lost ones, by
ingenious transplantation of tendons. He found this remarkably easy, as he
possessed an uncommonly strong spatial imagination and a remarkably sure
feeling for mechanism. How happy he was when he had succeeded in making
somebody fit for normal life by putting right the muscular system of his face,
foot, or arm! And the same when he avoided an operation, even in cases
which had been sent to him by physicians for surgical treatment in cases of
gastric ulcer by neutralizing the pepsin. He also set great store by the
treatment of peritonitis by an anti-toxic coli-serum which he discovered, and
rejoiced in the successes he achieved with it. In talking of it he often lamented
the fact that this method of treatment was not endorsed by his colleagues.

The second group of problems had to do with the common conception of an
antagonism between different sorts of tissue. He believed that he was here on
the track of a general biological principle of widest application, whose
implications he followed out with admirable boldness and persistence. Starting
out from this basic notion he discovered that osteomyelon and periosteum
prevent each other's growth if they are not separated from each other by
bone. In this way he succeeded in explaining hitherto inexplicable cases of
wounds ailing to heal, and in bringing about a cure.

This general notion of the antagonism of the tissues, especially of epithelium
and connective tissue, was the subject to which he devoted his scientific
energies, especially in the last ten years of his life. Experiments on animals and
a systematic investigation of the growth of tissues in a nutrient fluid were
carried out side by side. How thankful he was, with his hands tied as they
were by his duties, to have found such an admirable and infinitely enthusiastic
fellow-worker in Frälein Knake! He succeeded in securing wonderful results
bearing on the factors which favour the growth of epithelium at the expense of
that of connective tissue, results which may well be of decisive importance for
the study of cancer. He also had the pleasure of inspiring his own son to
become his intelligent and independent fellow-worker, and of exciting the
warm interest and co-operation of Sauerbruch just in the last years of his life,
so that he was able to die with the consoling thought that his life's work would
not perish, but would be vigorously continued on the lines he had laid down.

I for my part am grateful to fate for having given me this man, with his
inexhaustible goodness and high creative gifts, for a friend.

Congratulations to Dr. Solf

I am delighted to be able to offer you, Dr. Solf, the heartiest congratulations,
the congratulations of Lessing College, of which you have become an
indispensable pillar, and the congratulations of all who are convinced of the
need for close contact between science and art and the public which is hungry
for spiritual nourishment.

You have not hesitated to apply your energies to a field where there are no
laurels to be won, but quiet, loyal work to be done in the interests of the
general standard of intellectual and spiritual life, which is in peculiar danger
to-day owing to a variety of circumstances. Exaggerated respect for athletics,
an excess of coarse impressions which the complications of life through the
technical discoveries of recent years has brought with it, the increased severity
of the struggle for existence due to the economic crisis, the brutalization of
political life--all these factors are hostile to the ripening of the character and
the desire for real culture, and stamp our age as barbarous, materialistic, and
superficial. Specialization in every sphere of intellectual work is producing an
everwidening gulf between the intellectual worker and the non-specialist,
which makes it more difficult for the life of the nation to be fertilized and
enriched by the achievements of art and science.

But contact between the intellectual and the masses must not be lost. It is
necessary for the elevation of society and no less so for renewing the strength
of the intellectual worker; for the flower of science does not grow in the
desert. For this reason you, Herr Solf, have devoted a portion of your
energies to Lessing College, and we are grateful to you for doing so. And we
wish you further success and happiness in your work for this noble cause.

Of Wealth

I am absolutely convinced that no wealth in the world can help humanity
forward, even in the hands of the most devoted worker in this cause. The
example of great and pure characters is the only thing that can produce fine
ideas and noble deeds. Money only appeals to selfishness and always tempts
its owners irresistibly to abuse it.

Can anyone imagine Moses, Jesus, or Gandhi armed with the money-bags of
Carnegie?

Education and Educators

A letter.

Dear Miss _____,

I have read about sixteen pages of your manuscript and it made
me--smile. It is clever, well observed, honest, it stands on its
own feet up to a point, and yet it is so typically feminine, by
which I mean derivative and vitiated by personal rancour. I
suffered exactly the same treatment at the hands of my teachers,
who disliked me for my independence and passed me over
when they wanted assistants (I must admit that I was somewhat
less of a model student than you). But it would not have been
worth my while to write anything about my school life, still less
would I have liked to be responsible for anyone's printing or
actually reading it. Besides, one always cuts a poor figure if one
complains about others who are struggling for their place in the
sun too after their own fashion.

Therefore pocket your temperament and keep your manuscript
for your sons and daughters, m order that they may derive
consolation from it and--not give a damn for what their teachers
tell them or think of them.

Incidentally I am only coming to Princeton to research, not to
teach. There is too much education altogether, especially in
American schools. The only rational way of educating is to be an
example--of what to avoid, if one can't be the other sort.

With best wishes.

To the Schoolchildren of Japan

In sending this greeting to you Japanese schoolchildren, I can lay claim to a
special right to do so. For I have myself visited your beautiful country, seen its
cities and houses, its mountains and woods, and in them Japanese boys who
had learnt from them to love their country. A big fat book full of coloured
drawings by Japanese children lies always on my table.

If you get my message of greeting from all this distance, bethink you that ours
is the first age in history to bring about friendly and understanding intercourse
between people of different countries; in former times nations passed their
lives in mutual ignorance, and in fact hated or feared one another. May the
spirit of brotherly understanding gain ground more and more among them.
With this in mind I, an old man, greet you Japanese schoolchildren from afar
and hope that your generation may some day put mine to shame.

Teachers and Pupils

An address to children

(The principal art of the teacher is to awaken the joy in creation
and knowledge.)

My dear Children,

I rejoice to see you before me to-day, happy youth of a sunny and fortunate
land.

Bear in mind that the wonderful things you learn in your schools are the work
of many generations, produced by enthusiastic effort and infinite labour in
every country of the world. All this is put into your hands as your inheritance
in order that you may receive it, honour it, add to it, and one day faithfully
hand it on to your children. Thus do we mortals achieve immortality in the
permanent things which we create in common.

If you always keep that in mind you will find a meaning in life and work and
acquire the right attitude towards other nations and ages.

Paradise Lost

As late as the seventeenth century the savants and artists of all Europe were
so closely united by the bond of a common ideal that co-operation between
them was scarcely affected by political events. This unity was further
strengthened by the general use of the Latin language.

To-day we look back at this state of affairs as at a lost paradise. The passions
of nationalism have destroyed this community of the intellect, and the Latin
language, which once united the whole world, is dead. The men of learning
have become the chief mouthpieces of national tradition and lost their sense of
an intellectual commonwealth.

Nowadays we are faced with the curious fact that the politicians, the practical
men of affairs, have become the exponents of international ideas. It is they
who have created the League of Nations.


Religion and Science

Everything that the human race has done and thought is concerned with the
satisfaction of felt needs and the assuagement of pain. One has to keep this
constantly in mind if one wishes to understand spiritual movements and their
development. Feeling and desire are the motive forces behind all human
endeavour and human creation, in however exalted a guise the latter may
present itself to us. Now what are the feelings and needs that have led men to
religious thought and belief in the widest sense of the words? A little
consideration will suffice to show us that the most varying emotions preside
over the birth of religious thought and experience. With primitive man it is
above all fear that evokes religious notions--fear of hunger, wild beasts,
sickness, death. Since at this stage of existence understanding of causal
connexions is usually poorly developed, the human mind creates for itself
more or less analogous beings on whose wills and actions these fearful
happenings depend. One's object now is to secure the favour of these beings
by carrying out actions and offering sacrifices which, according to the tradition
handed down from generation to generation, propitiate them or make them
well disposed towards a mortal. I am speaking now of the religion of fear.
This, though not created, is in an important degree stabilized by the formation
of a special priestly caste which sets up as a mediator between the people and
the beings they fear, and erects a hegemony on this basis. In many cases the
leader or ruler whose position depends on other factors, or a privileged class,
combines priestly functions with its secular authority in order to make the
latter more secure; or the political rulers and the priestly caste make common
cause in their own interests.

The social feelings are another source of the crystallization of religion. Fathers
and mothers and the leaders of larger human communities are mortal and
fallible. The desire for guidance, love, and support prompts men to form the
social or moral conception of God. This is the God of Providence who
protects, disposes, rewards, and punishes, the God who, according to the
width of the believer's outlook, loves and cherishes the life of the tribe or of
the human race, or even life as such, the comforter in sorrow and unsatisfied
longing, who preserves the souls of the dead. This is the social or moral
conception of God.

The Jewish scriptures admirably illustrate the development from the religion of
fear to moral religion, which is continued in the New Testament. The religions
of all civilized peoples, especially the peoples of the Orient, are primarily
moral religions. The development from a religion of fear to moral religion is a
great step in a nation's life. That primitive religions are based entirely on fear
and the religions of civilized peoples purely on morality is a prejudice against
which we must be on our guard. The truth is that they are all intermediate
types, with this reservation, that on the higher levels of social life the religion of
morality predominates.

Common to all these types is the anthropomorphic character of their
conception of God. Only individuals of exceptional endowments and
exceptionally high-minded communities, as a general rule, get in any real sense
beyond this level. But there is a third state of religious experience which
belongs to all of them, even though it is rarely found in a pure form, and which
I will call cosmic religious feeling. It is very difficult to explain this feeling to
anyone who is entirely without it, especially as there is no anthropomorphic
conception of God corresponding to it.

The individual feels the nothingness of human desires and aims and the
sublimity and marvellous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in
the world of thought. He looks upon individual existence as a sort of prison
and wants to experience the universe as a single significant whole. The
beginnings of cosmic religious feeling already appear in earlier stages of
development--e.g., in many of the Psalms of David and in some of the
Prophets. Buddhism, as we have learnt from the wonderful writings of
Schopenhauer especially, contains a much stronger element of it.

The religious geniuses of all ages have been distinguished by this kind of
religious feeling, which knows no dogma and no God conceived in man's
image; so that there can be no Church whose central teachings are based on
it. Hence it is precisely among the heretics of every age that we find men who
were filled with the highest kind of religious feeling and were in many cases
regarded by their contemporaries as Atheists, sometimes also as saints.
Looked at in this light, men like Democritus, Francis of Assisi, and Spinoza
are closely akin to one another.

How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to
another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In
my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this
feeling and keep it alive in those who are capable of it.

We thus arrive at a conception of the relation of science to religion very
different from the usual one. When one views the matter historically one is
inclined to look upon science and religion as irreconcilable antagonists, and
for a very obvious reason. The man who is thoroughly convinced of the
universal operation of the law of causation cannot for a moment entertain the
idea of a being who interferes in the course of events--that is, if he takes the
hypothesis of causality really seriously. He has no use for the religion of fear
and equally little for social or moral religion. A God who rewards and
punishes is inconceivable to him for the simple reason that a man's actions are
determined by necessity, external and internal, so that in God's eyes he cannot
be responsible, any more than an inanimate object is responsible for the
motions it goes through. Hence science has been charged with undermining
morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behaviour should be based
effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is
necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by
fear and punishment and hope of reward after death.

It is therefore easy to see why the Churches have always fought science and
persecuted its devotees. On the other hand, I maintain that cosmic religious
feeling is the strongest and noblest incitement to scientific research. Only those
who realize the immense efforts and, above all, the devotion which pioneer
work in theoretical science demands, can grasp the strength of the emotion
out of which alone such work, remote as it is from the immediate realities of
life, can issue. What a deep conviction of the rationality of the universe and
what a yearning to understand, were it but a feeble reflection of the mind
revealed in this world, Kepler and Newton must have had to enable them to
spend years of solitary labour in disentangling the principles of celestial
mechanics! Those whose acquaintance with scientific research is derived
chiefly from its practical results easily develop a completely false notion of the
mentality of the men who, surrounded by a sceptical world, have shown the
way to those like-minded with themselves, scattered through the earth and the
centuries. Only one who has devoted his life to similar ends can have a vivid
realization of what has inspired these men and given them the strength to
remain true to their purpose in spite of countless failures. It is cosmic religious
feeling that gives a man strength of this sort. A contemporary has said, not
unjustly, that in this materialistic age of ours the serious scientific workers are
the only profoundly religious people.

The Religiousness of Science

You will hardly find one among the profounder sort of scientific minds without
a peculiar religious feeling of his own. But it is different from the religion of the
naive man. For the latter God is a being from whose care one hopes to benefit
and whose punishment one fears; a sublimation of a feeling similar to that of a
child for its father, a being to whom one stands to some extent in a personal
relation, however deeply it may be tinged with awe.

But the scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation. The future,
to him, is every whit as necessary and determined as the past. There is nothing
divine about morality, it is a purely human affair. His religious feeling takes the
form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals
an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic
thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. This
feeling is the guiding principle of his life and work, in so far as he succeeds in
keeping himself from the shackles of selfish desire. It is beyond question
closely akin to that which has possessed the religious geniuses of all ages.

The Plight of Science

The German-speaking countries are menaced by a danger to which those in
the know are in duty bound to call attention in the most emphatic terms. The
economic stress which political events bring in their train does not hit
everybody equally hard. Among the hardest hit are the institutions and
individuals whose material existence depends directly on the State. To this
category belong the scientific institutions and workers on whose work not
merely the well-being of science but also the position occupied by Germany
and Austria in the scale of culture very largely depends.

To grasp the full gravity of the situation it is necessary to bear in mind the
following consideration. In times of crisis people are generally blind to
everything outside their immediate necessities. For work which is directly
productive of material wealth they will pay. But science, if it is to flourish, must
have no practical end in view. As a general rule, the knowledge and the
methods which it creates only subserve practical ends indirectly and, in many
cases, not till after the lapse of several generations. Neglect of science leads
to a subsequent dearth of intellectual workers able, in virtue of their
independent outlook and judgment, to blaze new trails for industry or adapt
themselves to new situations. Where scientific enquiry is stunted the
intellectual life of the nation dries up, which means the withering of many
possibilities of future development. This is what we have to prevent. Now that
the State has been weakened as a result of nonpolitical causes, it is up to the
economically stronger members of the community to come to the rescue
directly, and prevent the decay of scientific life.

Far-sighted men with a clear understanding of the situation have set up
institutions by which scientific work of every sort is to be kept going in
Germany and Austria. Help to make these efforts a real success. In my
teaching work I see with admiration that economic troubles have not yet
succeeded in stifling the will and the enthusiasm for scientific research. Far
from it! Indeed, it looks as if our disasters had actually quickened the
devotion to non-material goods. Everywhere people are working with burning
enthusiasm in the most difficult circumstances. See to it that the will-power
and the talents of the youth of to-day do not perish to the grievous hurt of the
community as a whole.

Fascism and Science

A letter to Signor Rocco, Minister of State, Rome.

My dear Sir,

Two of the most eminent and respected men of science in Italy
have applied to me in their difficulties of conscience and
requested me to write to you with the object of preventing, if
possible, a piece of cruel persecution with which men of learning
are threatened in Italy. I refer to a form of oath in which fidelity
to the Fascist system is to be promised. The burden of my
request is that you should please advise Signor Mussolini to
spare the flower of Italy's intellect this humiliation.

However much our political convictions may differ, I know that
we agree on one point: in the progressive achievements of the
European mind both of us see and love our highest good. Those
achievements are based on the freedom of thought and of
teaching, on the principle that the desire for truth must take
precedence of all other desires. It was this basis alone that
enabled our civilization to take its rise in Greece and to celebrate
its rebirth in Italy at the Renaissance. This supreme good has
been paid for by the martyr's blood of pure and great men, for
whose sake Italy is still loved and reverenced to-day.

Far be it from me to argue with you about what inroads on
human liberty may be justified by reasons of State. But the
pursuit of scientific truth, detached from the practical interests of
everyday life, ought to be treated as sacred by every
Government, and it is in the highest interests of all that honest
servants of truth should be left in peace. This is also undoubtedly
in the interests of the Italian State and its prestige in the eyes of
the world.

Hoping that my request will not fall on deaf ears, I am, etc.

A. E.

Interviewers

To be called to account publicly for everything one has said, even in jest, an
excess of high spirits, or momentary anger, fatal as it must be in the end, is yet
up to a point reasonable and natural. But to be called to account publicly for
what others have said in one's name, when one cannot defend oneself, is
indeed a sad predicament. "But who suffers such a dreadful fate?" you will
ask. Well, everyone who is of sufficient interest to the public to be pursued by
interviewers. You smile incredulously, but I have had plenty of direct
experience and will tell you about it.

Imagine the following situation. One morning a reporter comes to you and
asks you in a friendly way to tell him something about your friend N. At first
you no doubt feel something approaching indignation at such a proposal. But
you soon discover that there is no escape. If you refuse to say anything, the
man writes: "I asked one of N.'s supposedly best friends about him. But he
prudently avoided my questions. This in itself enables the reader to draw the
inevitable conclusions." There is, therefore, no escape, and you give the
following information: "Mr. N. is a cheerful, straightforward man, much liked
by all his friends. He can find a bright side to any situation. His enterprise and
industry know no bounds; his job takes up his entire energies. He is devoted
to his family and lays everything he possesses at his wife's feet. . . "

Now for the reporter's version : "Mr. N. takes nothing very seriously and has
a gift for making himself liked, particularly as he carefully cultivates a hearty
and ingratiating manner. He is so completely a slave to his job that he has no
time for the considerations of any non-personal subject or for any mental
activity outside it. He spoils his wife unbelievably and is utterly under her
thumb. . ."

A real reporter would make it much more spicy, but I expect this will be
enough for you and your friend N. He reads this, and some more like it, in the
paper next morning, and his rage against you knows no bounds, however
cheerful and benevolent his natural disposition may be. The injury done to him
gives you untold pain, especially as you are really fond of him.

What's your next step, my friend? If you know, tell me quickly, so that I may
adopt your method with all speed.


Thanks to America

Mr. Mayor, Ladies, and Gentlemen,

The splendid reception which you have accorded to me to-day puts me to the
blush in so far as it is meant for me personally, but it gives me all the more
pleasure in so far as it is meant for me as a representative of pure science. For
this gathering is an outward and visible sign that the world is no longer prone
to regard material power and wealth as the highest goods. It is gratifying that
men should feel an urge to proclaim this in an official way.

In the wonderful two months which I have been privileged to spend in your
midst in this fortunate land, I have had many opportunities of observing what a
high value men of action and of practical life attach to the efforts of science; a
good few of them have placed a considerable p

[ugluk]

[quote]Originally posted by racer II@10 May 2003 - 17:33
[b] [QUOTE=JPaul,10 May 2003 - 15:52] 3 is definitely possible

THE WORLD AS I SEE IT
Albert Einstein



PREFACE TO ORIGINAL EDITION

Only individuals have a sense of responsibility. --Nietzsche

This book does not represent a complete collection of the articles, addresses,
and pronouncements of Albert Einstein; it is a selection made with a definite
object-- namely, to give a picture of a man. To-day this man is being drawn,
contrary to his own intention, into the whirlpool of political passions and
contemporary history. As a result, Einstein is experiencing the fate that so
many of the great men of history experienced: his character and opinions are
being exhibited to the world in an utterly distorted form.

To forestall this fate is the real object of this book. It meets a wish that has
constantly been expressed both by Einstein's friends and by the wider public.
It contains work belonging to the most various dates-- the article on "The
International of Science" dates from the year 1922, the address on "The
Principles of Scientific Research" from 1923, the "Letter to an Arab" from
1930--and the most various spheres, held together by the unity of the
personality which stands behind all these utterances. Albert Einstein believes
in humanity, in a peaceful world of mutual helpfulness, and in the high mission
of science. This book is intended as a plea for this belief at a time which
compels every one of us to overhaul his mental attitude and his ideas.

J. H.


INTRODUCTION TO ABRIDGED
EDITION

In his biography of Einstein Mr. H. Gordou Garbedian relates that an
American newspaper man asked the great physicist for a definition of his
theory of relativity in one sentence. Einstein replied that it would take him
three days to give a short definition of relativity. He might well have added
that unless his questioner had an intimate acquaintance with mathematics and
physics, the definition would be incomprehensible.

To the majority of people Einstein's theory is a complete mystery. Their
attitude towards Einstein is like that of Mark Twain towards the writer of a
work on mathematics: here was a man who had written an entire book of
which Mark could not understand a single sentence. Einstein, therefore, is
great in the public eye partly because he has made revolutionary discoveries
which cannot be translated into the common tongue. We stand in proper awe
of a man whose thoughts move on heights far beyond our range, whose
achievements can be measured only by the few who are able to follow his
reasoning and challenge his conclusions.

There is, however, another side to his personality. It is revealed in the
addresses, letters, and occasional writings brought together in this book.
These fragments form a mosaic portrait of Einstein the man. Each one is, in a
sense, complete in itself; it presents his views on some aspect of progress,
education, peace, war, liberty, or other problems of universal interest. Their
combined effect is to demonstrate that the Einstein we can all understand is no
less great than the Einstein we take on trust.

Einstein has asked nothing more from life than the freedom to pursue his
researches into the mechanism of the universe. His nature is of rare simplicity
and sincerity; he always has been, and he remains, genuinely indifferent to
wealth and fame and the other prizes so dear to ambition. At the same time he
is no recluse, shutting himself off from the sorrows and agitations of the world
around him. Himself familiar from early years with the handicap of poverty
and with some of the worst forms of man's inhumanity to man, he has never
spared himself in defence of the weak and the oppressed. Nothing could be
more unwelcome to his sensitive and retiring character than the glare of the
platform and the heat of public controversy, yet he has never hesitated when
he felt that his voice or influence would help to redress a wrong. History,
surely, has few parallels with this introspective mathematical genius who
laboured unceasingly as an eager champion of the rights of man.

Albert Einstein was born in 1879 at Ulm. When he was four years old his
father, who owned an electrochemical works, moved to Munich, and two
years later the boy went to school, experiencing a rigid, almost military, type
of discipline and also the isolation of a shy and contemplative Jewish child
among Roman Catholics-- factors which made a deep and enduring
impression. From the point of view of his teachers he was an unsatisfactory
pupil, apparently incapable of progress in languages, history, geography, and
other primary subjects. His interest in mathematics was roused, not by his
instructors, but by a Jewish medical student, Max Talmey, who gave him a
book on geometry, and so set him upon a course of enthusiastic study which
made him, at the age of fourteen, a better mathematician than his masters. At
this stage also he began the study of philosophy, reading and re-reading the
words of Kant and other metaphysicians.

Business reverses led the elder Einstein to make a fresh start in Milan, thus
introducing Albert to the joys of a freer, sunnier life than had been possible in
Germany. Necessity, however, made this holiday a brief one, and after a few
months of freedom the preparation for a career began. It opened with an
effort, backed by a certificate of mathematical proficiency given by a teacher
in the Gymnasium at Munich, to obtain admission to the Polytechnic Academy
at Zurich. A year passed in the study of necessary subjects which he had
neglected for mathematics, but once admitted, the young Einstein became
absorbed in the pursuit of science and philosophy and made astonishing
progress. After five distinguished years at the Polytechnic he hoped to step
into the post of assistant professor, but found that the kindly words of the
professors who had stimulated the hope did not materialize.

Then followed a weary search for work, two brief interludes of teaching, and
a stable appointment as examiner at the Confederate Patent Office at Berrie.
Humdrum as the work was, it had the double advantage of providing a
competence and of leaving his mind free for the mathematical speculations
which were then taking shape in the theory of relativity. In 1905 his first
monograph on the theory was published in a Swiss scientific journal, the
Annalen der Physik. Zurich awoke to the fact that it possessed a genius in
the form of a patent office clerk, promoted him to be a lecturer at the
University and four years later--in 1909--installed him as Professor.

His next appointment was (in 1911) at the University of Prague, where he
remained for eighteen months. Following a brief return to Zurich, he went,
early in 1914, to Berlin as a professor in the Prussian Academy of Sciences
and director of the Kaiser Wilhelm Institute for Theoretical Physics. The
period of the Great War was a trying time for Einstein, who could not conceal
his ardent pacifism, but he found what solace he could in his studies. Later
events brought him into the open and into many parts of the world, as an
exponent not only of pacifism but also of world-disarmament and the cause of
Jewry. To a man of such views, as passionately held as they were by Einstein,
Germany under the Nazis was patently impossible. In 1933 Einstein made his
famous declaration: "As long as I have any choice, I will stay only in a country
where political liberty, toleration, and equality of all citizens before the law are
the rule." For a time he was a homeless exile; after offers had come to him
from Spain and France and Britain, he settled in Princeton as Professor of
Mathematical and Theoretical Physics, happy in his work, rejoicing in a free
environment, but haunted always by the tragedy of war and oppression.

The World As I See It, in its original form, includes essays by Einstein on
relativity and cognate subjects. For reasons indicated above, these have been
omitted in the present edition; the object of this reprint is simply to reveal to
the general reader the human side of one of the most dominating figures of our
day.

I

The World As I See It

The Meaning of Life


What is the meaning of human life, or of organic life altogether? To answer
this question at all implies a religion. Is there any sense then, you ask, in
putting it? I answer, the man who regards his own life and that of his
fellow-creatures as meaningless is not merely unfortunate but almost
disqualified for life.

The World as I see it


What an extraordinary situation is that of us mortals! Each of us is here for a
brief sojourn; for what purpose he knows not, though he sometimes thinks he
feels it. But from the point of view of daily life, without going deeper, we exist
for our fellow-men--in the first place for those on whose smiles and welfare all
our happiness depends, and next for all those unknown to us personally with
whose destinies we are bound up by the tie of sympathy. A hundred times
every day I remind myself that my inner and outer life depend on the labours
of other men, living and dead, and that I must exert myself in order to give in
the same measure as I have received and am still receiving. I am strongly
drawn to the simple life and am often oppressed by the feeling that I am
engrossing an unnecessary amount of the labour of my fellow-men. I regard
class differences as contrary to justice and, in the last resort, based on force. I
also consider that plain living is good for everybody, physically and mentally.

In human freedom in the philosophical sense I am definitely a disbeliever.
Everybody acts not only under external compulsion but also in accordance
with inner necessity. Schopenhauer's saying, that "a man can do as he will, but
not will as he will," has been an inspiration to me since my youth up, and a
continual consolation and unfailing well-spring of patience in the face of the
hardships of life, my own and others'. This feeling mercifully mitigates the
sense of responsibility which so easily becomes paralysing, and it prevents us
from taking ourselves and other people too seriously; it conduces to a view of
life in which humour, above all, has its due place.

To inquire after the meaning or object of one's own existence or of creation
generally has always seemed to me absurd from an objective point of view.
And yet everybody has certain ideals which determine the direction of his
endeavours and his judgments. In this sense I have never looked upon ease
and happiness as ends in themselves--such an ethical basis I call more proper
for a herd of swine. The ideals which have lighted me on my way and time
after time given me new courage to face life cheerfully, have been Truth,
Goodness, and Beauty. Without the sense of fellowship with men of like mind,
of preoccupation with the objective, the eternally unattainable in the field of art
and scientific research, life would have seemed to me empty. The ordinary
objects of human endeavour--property, outward success, luxury--have
always seemed to me contemptible.

My passionate sense of social justice and social responsibility has always
contrasted oddly with my pronounced freedom from the need for direct
contact with other human beings and human communities. I gang my own gait
and have never belonged to my country, my home, my friends, or even my
immediate family, with my whole heart; in the face of all these ties I have never
lost an obstinate sense of detachment, of the need for solitude--a feeling
which increases with the years. One is sharply conscious, yet without regret,
of the limits to the possibility of mutual understanding and sympathy with one's
fellow-creatures. Such a person no doubt loses something in the way of
geniality and light-heartedness ; on the other hand, he is largely independent of
the opinions, habits, and judgments of his fellows and avoids the temptation to
take his stand on such insecure foundations.

My political ideal is that of democracy. Let every man be respected as an
individual and no man idolized. It is an irony of fate that I myself have been the
recipient of excessive admiration and respect from my fellows through no
fault, and no merit, of my own. The cause of this may well be the desire,
unattainable for many, to understand the one or two ideas to which I have
with my feeble powers attained through ceaseless struggle. I am quite aware
that it is necessary for the success of any complex undertaking that one man
should do the thinking and directing and in general bear the responsibility. But
the led must not be compelled, they must be able to choose their leader. An
autocratic system of coercion, in my opinion, soon degenerates. For force
always attracts men of low morality, and I believe it to be an invariable rule
that tyrants of genius are succeeded by scoundrels. For this reason I have
always been passionately opposed to systems such as we see in Italy and
Russia to-day. The thing that has brought discredit upon the prevailing form of
democracy in Europe to-day is not to be laid to the door of the democratic
idea as such, but to lack of stability on the part of the heads of governments
and to the impersonal character of the electoral system. I believe that in this
respect the United States of America have found the right way. They have a
responsible President who is elected for a sufficiently long period and has
sufficient powers to be really responsible. On the other hand, what I value in
our political system is the more extensive provision that it makes for the
individual in case of illness or need. The really valuable thing in the pageant of
human life seems to me not the State but the creative, sentient individual, the
personality; it alone creates the noble and the sublime, while the herd as such
remains dull in thought and dull in feeling.

This topic brings me to that worst outcrop of the herd nature, the military
system, which I abhor. That a man can take pleasure in marching in formation
to the strains of a band is enough to make me despise him. He has only been
given his big brain by mistake; a backbone was all he needed. This
plague-spot of civilization ought to be abolished with all possible speed.
Heroism by order, senseless violence, and all the pestilent nonsense that does
by the name of patriotism--how I hate them! War seems to me a mean,
contemptible thing: I would rather be hacked in pieces than take part in such
an abominable business. And yet so high, in spite of everything, is my opinion
of the human race that I believe this bogey would have disappeared long ago,
had the sound sense of the nations not been systematically corrupted by
commercial and political interests acting through the schools and the Press.

The fairest thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the fundamental
emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. He who
knows it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement, is as good
as dead, a snuffed-out candle. It was the experience of mystery--even if
mixed with fear--that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of
something we cannot penetrate, of the manifestations of the profoundest
reason and the most radiant beauty, which are only accessible to our reason in
their most elementary forms--it is this knowledge and this emotion that
constitute the truly religious attitude; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a
deeply religious man. I cannot conceive of a God who rewards and punishes
his creatures, or has a will of the type of which we are conscious in ourselves.
An individual who should survive his physical death is also beyond my
comprehension, nor do I wish it otherwise; such notions are for the fears or
absurd egoism of feeble souls. Enough for me the mystery of the eternity of
life, and the inkling of the marvellous structure of reality, together with the
single-hearted endeavour to comprehend a portion, be it never so tiny, of the
reason that manifests itself in nature.

The Liberty of Doctrine--à propos of the Guntbel Case


Academic chairs are many, but wise and noble teachers are few;
lecture-rooms are numerous and large, but the number of young people who
genuinely thirst after truth and justice is small. Nature scatters her common
wares with a lavish hand, but the choice sort she produces but seldom.
We all know that, so why complain? Was it not ever thus and will it not ever
thus remain? Certainly, and one must take what Nature gives as one finds it.
But there is also such a thing as a spirit of the times, an attitude of mind
characteristic of a particular generation, which is passed on from individual to
individual and gives a society its particular tone. Each of us has to do his little
bit towards transforming this spirit of the times.

Compare the spirit which animated the youth in our universities a hundred
years ago with that prevailing to-day. They had faith in the amelioration of
human society, respect for every honest opinion, the tolerance for which our
classics had lived and fought. In those days men strove for a larger political
unity, which at that time was called Germany. It was the students and the
teachers at the universities who kept these ideals alive.

To-day also there is an urge towards social progress, towards tolerance and
freedom of thought, towards a larger political unity, which we to-day call
Europe. But the students at our universities have ceased as completely as their
teachers to enshrine the hopes and ideals of the nation. Anyone who looks at
our times coolly and dispassionately must admit this.

We are assembled to-day to take stock of ourselves. The external reason for
this meeting is the Gumbel case. This apostle of justice has written about
unexpiated political crimes with devoted industry, high courage, and
exemplary fairness, and has done the community a signal service by his
books. And this is the man whom the students, and a good many of the staff,
of his university are to-day doing their best to expel.

Political passion cannot be allowed to go to such lengths. I am convinced that
every man who reads Herr Gumbel's books with an open mind will get the
same impression from them as I have. Men like him are needed if we are ever
to build up a healthy political society.

Let every man judge according to his own standards, by what he has himself
read, not by what others tell him.

If that happens, this Gumbel case, after an unedifying beginning, may still do
good.


Good and Evil


It is right in principle that those should be the best loved who have contributed
most to the elevation of the human race and human life. But, if one goes on to
ask who they are, one finds oneself in no inconsiderable difficulties. In the
case of political, and even of religious, leaders, it is often very doubtful
whether they have done more good or harm. Hence I most seriously believe
that one does people the best service by giving them some elevating work to
do and thus indirectly elevating them. This applies most of all to the great
artist, but also in a lesser degree to the scientist. To be sure, it is not the fruits
of scientific research that elevate a man and enrich his nature, but the urge to
understand, the intellectual work, creative or receptive. It would surely be
absurd to judge the value of the Talmud, for instance, by its intellectual fruits.

The true value of a human being is determined primarily by the measure
and the sense in which he has attained to liberation from the self.

Society and Personality


When we survey our lives and endeavours we soon observe that almost the
whole of our actions and desires are bound up with the existence of other
human beings. We see that our whole nature resembles that of the social
animals. We eat food that others have grow, wear clothes that others have
made, live in houses that others have built. The greater part of our knowledge
and beliefs has been communicated to us by other people through the medium
of a language which others have created. Without language our mental
capacities wuuld be poor indeed, comparable to those of the higher animals;
we have, therefore, to admit that we owe our principal advantage over the
beasts to the fact of living in human society. The individual, if left alone from
birth would remain primitive and beast-like in his thoughts and feelings to a
degree that we can hardly conceive. The individual is what he is and has the
significance that he has not so much in virtue of his individuality, but rather as a
member of a great human society, which directs his material and spiritual
existence from the cradle to the grave.

A man's value to the community depends primarily on how far his feelings,
thoughts, and actions are directed towards promoting the good of his fellows.
We call him good or bad according to how he stands in this matter. It looks at
first sight as if our estimate of a man depended entirely on his social qualities.

And yet such an attitude would be wrong. It is clear that all the valuable
things, material, spiritual, and moral, which we receive from society can be
traced back through countless generations to certain creative individuals. The
use of fire, the cultivation of edible plants, the steam engine--each was
discovered by one man.

Only the individual can think, and thereby create new values for society--nay,
even set up new moral standards to which the life of the community conforms.
Without creative, independently thinking and judging personalities the upward
development of society is as unthinkable as the development of the individual
personality without the nourishing soil of the community.

The health of society thus depends quite as much on the independence of the
individuals composing it as on their close political cohesion. It has been said
very justly that Græco-Europeo-American culture as a whole, and in
particular its brilliant flowering in the Italian Renaissance, which put an end to
the stagnation of mediæval Europe, is based on the liberation and comparative
isolation of the individual.

Let us now consider the times in which we live. How does society fare, how
the individual? The population of the civilized countries is extremely dense as
compared with former times; Europe to-day contains about three times as
many people as it did a hundred years ago. But the number of great men has
decreased out of all proportion. Only a few individuals are known to the
masses as personalities, through their creative achievements. Organization has
to some extent taken the place of the great man, particularly in the technical
sphere, but also to a very perceptible extent in the scientific.

The lack of outstanding figures is particularly striking in the domain of art.
Painting and music have definitely degenerated and largely lost their popular
appeal. In politics not only are leaders lacking, but the independence of spent
and the sense of justice of the citizen have to a great extent declined. The
democratic, parliamentarian regime, which is based on such independence,
has in many places been shaken, dictatorships have sprung up and are
tolerated, because men's sense of the dignity and the rights of the individual is
no longer strong enough. In two weeks the sheep-like masses can be worked
up by the newspapers into such a state of excited fury that the men are
prepared to put on uniform and kill and be billed, for the sake of the worthless
aims of a few interested parties. Compulsory military service seems to me the
most disgraceful symptom of that deficiency in personal dignity from which
civilized mankind is suffering to-day. No wonder there is no lack of prophets
who prophesy the early eclipse of our civilization. I am not one of these
pessimists; I believe that better times are coming. Let me shortly state my
reasons for such confidence.

In my opinion, the present symptoms of decadence are explained by the fact
that the development of industry and machinery has made the struggle for
existence very much more severe, greatly to the detriment of the free
development of the individual. But the development of machinery means that
less and less work is needed from the individual for the satisfaction of the
community's needs. A planned division of labour is becoming more and more
of a crying necessity, and this division will lead to the material security of the
individual. This security and the spare time and energy which the individual will
have at his command can be made to further his development. In this way the
community may regain its health, and we will hope that future historians will
explain the morbid symptoms of present-day society as the childhood ailments
of an aspiring humanity, due entirely to the excessive speed at which
civilization was advancing.


Address at the Grave of H. A. Lorentz

It is as the representative of the German-speaking academic world, and in
particular the Prussian Academy of Sciences, but above all as a pupil and
affectionate admirer that I stand at the grave of the greatest and noblest man
of our times. His genius was the torch which lighted the way from the
teachings of Clerk Maxwell to the achievements of contemporary physics, to
the fabric of which he contributed valuable materials and methods.

His life was ordered like a work of art down to the smallest detail. His
never-failing kindness and magnanimity and his sense of justice, coupled with
an intuitive understanding of people and things, made him a leader in any
sphere he entered. Everyone followed him gladly, for they felt that he never
set out to dominate but always simply to be of use. His work and his example
will live on as an inspiration and guide to future generations.

H. A. Lorentz's work in the cause of International
Co-operation

With the extensive specialization of scientific research which the nineteenth
century brought about, it has become rare for a man occupying a leading
position in one of the sciences to manage at the same time to do valuable
service to the community in the sphere of international organization and
international. politics. Such service demands not only energy, insight, and a
reputation based on solid achievements, but also a freedom from national
prejudice and a devotion to the common ends of all, which have become rare
in our times. I have met no one who combined all these qualities in himself so
perfectly as H. A. Lorentz. The marvellous thing about the effect of his
personality was this: Independent and headstrong natures, such as are
particularly common among men of learning, do not readily bow to another's
will and for the most part only accept his leadership grudgingly. But, when
Lorentz is in the presidential chair, an atmosphere of happy co-operation is
invariably created, however much those present may differ in their aims and
habits of thought. The secret of this success lies not only in his swift
comprehension of people and things and his marvellous command of
language, but above all in this, that one feels that his whole heart is in the
business in hand, and that, when he is at work, he has room for nothing else in
his mind. Nothing disarms the recalcitrant so much as this.

Before the war Lorentz's activities in the cause of international relations were
confined to presiding at congresses of physicists. Particularly noteworthy
among these were the Solvay Congresses, the first two of which were held at
Brussels in 1909 and 1912. Then came the European war, which was a
crushing blow to all who had the improvement of human relations in general at
heart. Even before the war was over, and still more after its end, Lorentz
devoted himself to the work of reconciliation. His efforts were especially
directed towards the re-establishment of fruitful and friendly co-operation
between men of learning and scientific societies. An outsider can hardly
conceive what uphill work this is. The accumulated resentment of the war
period has not yet died down, and many influential men persist in the
irreconcilable attitude into which they allowed themselves to be driven by the
pressure of circumstances. Hence Lorentz's efforts resemble those of a doctor
with a recalcitrant patient who refuses to take the medicines carefully
prepared for his benefit.

But Lorentz is not to be deterred, once he has recognized a course of action
as the right one. The moment the war was over, he joined the governing body
of the "Conseil de recherche," which was founded by the savants of the
victorious countries, and from which the savants and learned societies of the
Central Powers were excluded. His object in taking this step, which caused
great offence to the academic world of the Central Powers, was to influence
this institution in such a way that it could be expanded into something truly
international. He and other right-minded men succeeded, after repeated
efforts, in securing the removal of the offensive exclusion-clause from the
statutes of the "Conseil." The goal, which is the restoration of normal and
fruitful co-operation between learned societies, is, however, not yet attained,
because the academic world of the Central Powers, exasperated by nearly
ten years of exclusion from practically all international gatherings, has got into
a habit of keeping itself to itself. Now, however, there are good grounds for
hoping that the ice will soon be broken, thanks to the tactful efforts of
Lorentz, prompted by pure enthusiasm for the good cause.

Lorentz has also devoted his energies to the service of international cultural
ends in another way, by consenting to serve on the League of Nations
Commission for international intellectual co-operation, which was called into
existence some five years ago with Bergson as chairman. For the last year
Lorentz has presided over the Commission, which, with the active support of
its subordinate, the Paris Institute, is to act as a go-between in the domain of
intellectual and artistic work among the various spheres of culture. There too
the beneficent influence of this intelligent, humane, and modest personality,
whose unspoken but faithfully followed advice is, "Not mastery but service,"
will lead people in the right way.

May his example contribute to the triumph of that spirit !


In Honour of Arnold Berliner's Seventieth Birthday

(Arnold Berliner is the editor of the periodical Die
Naturrvissenschaften.)

I should like to take this opportunity of telling my friend Berliner and the
readers of this paper why I rate him and his work so highly. It has to be done
here because it is one's only chance of getting such things said; since our
training in objectivity has led to a taboo on everything personal, which we
mortals may transgress only on quite exceptional occasions such as the
present one.

And now, after this dash for liberty, back to the objective! The province of
scientifically determined fact has been enormously extended, theoretical
knowledge has become vastly more profound in every department of science.
But the assimilative power of the human intellect is and remains strictly limited.
Hence it was inevitable that the activity of the individual investigator should be
confined to a smaller and smaller section of human knowledge. Worse still, as
a result of this specialization, it is becoming increasingly difficult for even a
rough general grasp of science as a whole, without which the true spirit of
research is inevitably handicapped, to keep pace with progress. A situation is
developing similar to the one symbolically represented in the Bible by the
story of the Tower of Babel. Every serious scientific worker is painfully
conscious of this involuntary relegation to an ever-narrowing sphere of
knowledge, which is threatening to deprive the investigator of his broad
horizon and degrade him to the level of a mechanic.

We have all suffered under this evil, without making any effort to mitigate it.
But Berliner has come to the rescue, as far as the German-speaking world is
concerned, in the most admirable way: He saw that the existing popular
periodicals were sufficient to instruct and stimulate the layman; but he also
saw that a first-class, well-edited organ was needed for the guidance of the
scientific worker who desired to be put sufficiently au courant of
developments in scientific problems, methods, and results to be able to form a
judgment of his own. Through many years of hard work he has devoted
himself to this object with great intelligence and no less great determination,
and done us all, and science, a service for which we cannot be too grateful.

It was necessary for him to secure the co-operation of successful scientific
writers and induce them to say what they had to say in a form as far as
possible intelligible to non-specialists. He has often told me of the fights he
had in pursuing this object, the difficulties of which he once described to me in
the following riddle: Question : What is a scientific author? Answer: A cross
between a mimosa and a porcupine.* Berliner's achievement would have
been impossible but for the peculiar intensity of his longing for a clear,
comprehensive view of the largest possible area of scientific country. This
feeling also drove him to produce a text-book of physics, the fruit of many
years of strenuous work, of which a medical student said to me the other day:
"I don't know how I should ever have got a clear idea of the principles of
modern physics in the time at my disposal without this book."

Berliner's fight for clarity and comprehensiveness of outlook has done a great
deal to bring the problems, methods, and results of science home to many
people's minds. The scientific life of our time is simply inconceivable vzthout
his paper. It is just as important to make knowledge live and to keep it alive
as to solve specific problems. We are all conscious of what we owe to
Arnold Berliner.

*Do not be angry with me for this indiscretion, my dear Berliner. A
serious-minded man enjoys a good laugh now and then.

Popper-Lynhaus was more than a brilliant engineer and writer. He was one
of the few outstanding personalities who embody the conscience of a
generation. He has drummed it into us that society is responsible for the fate
of every individual and shown us a way to translate the consequent obligation
of the community into fact. The community or State was no fetish to him; he
based its right to demand sacrifices of the individual entirely on its duty to give
the individual personality a chance of harmonious development.


Obituary of the Surgeon, M. Katzenstein

During the eighteen years I spent in Berlin I had few close friends, and the
closest was Professor Katzenstein. For more than ten years I spent my leisure
hours during the summer months with him, mostly on his delightful yacht.
There we confided our experiences, ambitions, emotions to each other. We
both felt that this friendship was not only a blessing because each understood
the other, was enriched by him, and found ins him that responsive echo so
essential to anybody who is truly alive; it also helped to make both of us more
independent of external experience, to objectivize it more easily.

I was a free man, bound neither by many duties nor by harassing
responsibilities; my friend, on the contrary, was never free from the grip of
urgent duties and anxious fears for the fate of those in peril. If, as was
invariably the case, he had performed some dangerous operations in the
morning, he would ring up on the telephone, immediately before we got into
the boat, to enquire after the condition of the patients about whom he was
worried; I could see how deeply concerned he was for the lives entrusted to
his care. It was marvellous that this shackled outward existence did not clip
the wings of his soul; his imagination and his sense of humour were
irrepressible. He never became the typical conscientious North German,
whom the Italians in the days of their freedom used to call bestia seriosa. He
was sensitive as a youth to the tonic beauty of the lakes and woods of
Brandenburg, and as he sailed the boat with an expert hand through these
beloved and familiar surroundings he opened the secret treasure-chamber of
his heart to me--he spoke of his experiments, scientific ideas, and ambitions.
How he found time and energy for them was always a mystery to me; but the
passion for scientific enquiry is not to be crushed by any burdens. The man
who is possessed with it perishes sooner than it does.

There were two types of problems that engaged his attention. The first forced
itself on him out of the necessities of his practice. Thus he was always thinking
out new ways of inducing healthy muscles to take the place of lost ones, by
ingenious transplantation of tendons. He found this remarkably easy, as he
possessed an uncommonly strong spatial imagination and a remarkably sure
feeling for mechanism. How happy he was when he had succeeded in making
somebody fit for normal life by putting right the muscular system of his face,
foot, or arm! And the same when he avoided an operation, even in cases
which had been sent to him by physicians for surgical treatment in cases of
gastric ulcer by neutralizing the pepsin. He also set great store by the
treatment of peritonitis by an anti-toxic coli-serum which he discovered, and
rejoiced in the successes he achieved with it. In talking of it he often lamented
the fact that this method of treatment was not endorsed by his colleagues.

The second group of problems had to do with the common conception of an
antagonism between different sorts of tissue. He believed that he was here on
the track of a general biological principle of widest application, whose
implications he followed out with admirable boldness and persistence. Starting
out from this basic notion he discovered that osteomyelon and periosteum
prevent each other's growth if they are not separated from each other by
bone. In this way he succeeded in explaining hitherto inexplicable cases of
wounds ailing to heal, and in bringing about a cure.

This general notion of the antagonism of the tissues, especially of epithelium
and connective tissue, was the subject to which he devoted his scientific
energies, especially in the last ten years of his life. Experiments on animals and
a systematic investigation of the growth of tissues in a nutrient fluid were
carried out side by side. How thankful he was, with his hands tied as they
were by his duties, to have found such an admirable and infinitely enthusiastic
fellow-worker in Frälein Knake! He succeeded in securing wonderful results
bearing on the factors which favour the growth of epithelium at the expense of
that of connective tissue, results which may well be of decisive importance for
the study of cancer. He also had the pleasure of inspiring his own son to
become his intelligent and independent fellow-worker, and of exciting the
warm interest and co-operation of Sauerbruch just in the last years of his life,
so that he was able to die with the consoling thought that his life's work would
not perish, but would be vigorously continued on the lines he had laid down.

I for my part am grateful to fate for having given me this man, with his
inexhaustible goodness and high creative gifts, for a friend.

Congratulations to Dr. Solf

I am delighted to be able to offer you, Dr. Solf, the heartiest congratulations,
the congratulations of Lessing College, of which you have become an
indispensable pillar, and the congratulations of all who are convinced of the
need for close contact between science and art and the public which is hungry
for spiritual nourishment.

You have not hesitated to apply your energies to a field where there are no
laurels to be won, but quiet, loyal work to be done in the interests of the
general standard of intellectual and spiritual life, which is in peculiar danger
to-day owing to a variety of circumstances. Exaggerated respect for athletics,
an excess of coarse impressions which the complications of life through the
technical discoveries of recent years has brought with it, the increased severity
of the struggle for existence due to the economic crisis, the brutalization of
political life--all these factors are hostile to the ripening of the character and
the desire for real culture, and stamp our age as barbarous, materialistic, and
superficial. Specialization in every sphere of intellectual work is producing an
everwidening gulf between the intellectual worker and the non-specialist,
which makes it more difficult for the life of the nation to be fertilized and
enriched by the achievements of art and science.

But contact between the intellectual and the masses must not be lost. It is
necessary for the elevation of society and no less so for renewing the strength
of the intellectual worker; for the flower of science does not grow in the
desert. For this reason you, Herr Solf, have devoted a portion of your
energies to Lessing College, and we are grateful to you for doing so. And we
wish you further success and happiness in your work for this noble cause.

Of Wealth

I am absolutely convinced that no wealth in the world can help humanity
forward, even in the hands of the most devoted worker in this cause. The
example of great and pure characters is the only thing that can produce fine
ideas and noble deeds. Money only appeals to selfishness and always tempts
its owners irresistibly to abuse it.

Can anyone imagine Moses, Jesus, or Gandhi armed with the money-bags of
Carnegie?

Education and Educators

A letter.

Dear Miss _____,

I have read about sixteen pages of your manuscript and it made
me--smile. It is clever, well observed, honest, it stands on its
own feet up to a point, and yet it is so typically feminine, by
which I mean derivative and vitiated by personal rancour. I
suffered exactly the same treatment at the hands of my teachers,
who disliked me for my independence and passed me over
when they wanted assistants (I must admit that I was somewhat
less of a model student than you). But it would not have been
worth my while to write anything about my school life, still less
would I have liked to be responsible for anyone's printing or
actually reading it. Besides, one always cuts a poor figure if one
complains about others who are struggling for their place in the
sun too after their own fashion.

Therefore pocket your temperament and keep your manuscript
for your sons and daughters, m order that they may derive
consolation from it and--not give a damn for what their teachers
tell them or think of them.

Incidentally I am only coming to Princeton to research, not to
teach. There is too much education altogether, especially in
American schools. The only rational way of educating is to be an
example--of what to avoid, if one can't be the other sort.

With best wishes.

To the Schoolchildren of Japan

In sending this greeting to you Japanese schoolchildren, I can lay claim to a
special right to do so. For I have myself visited your beautiful country, seen its
cities and houses, its mountains and woods, and in them Japanese boys who
had learnt from them to love their country. A big fat book full of coloured
drawings by Japanese children lies always on my table.

If you get my message of greeting from all this distance, bethink you that ours
is the first age in history to bring about friendly and understanding intercourse
between people of different countries; in former times nations passed their
lives in mutual ignorance, and in fact hated or feared one another. May the
spirit of brotherly understanding gain ground more and more among them.
With this in mind I, an old man, greet you Japanese schoolchildren from afar
and hope that your generation may some day put mine to shame.

Teachers and Pupils

An address to children

(The principal art of the teacher is to awaken the joy in creation
and knowledge.)

My dear Children,

I rejoice to see you before me to-day, happy youth of a sunny and fortunate
land.

Bear in mind that the wonderful things you learn in your schools are the work
of many generations, produced by enthusiastic effort and infinite labour in
every country of the world. All this is put into your hands as your inheritance
in order that you may receive it, honour it, add to it, and one day faithfully
hand it on to your children. Thus do we mortals achieve immortality in the
permanent things which we create in common.

If you always keep that in mind you will find a meaning in life and work and
acquire the right attitude towards other nations and ages.

Paradise Lost

As late as the seventeenth century the savants and artists of all Europe were
so closely united by the bond of a common ideal that co-operation between
them was scarcely affected by political events. This unity was further
strengthened by the general use of the Latin language.

To-day we look back at this state of affairs as at a lost paradise. The passions
of nationalism have destroyed this community of the intellect, and the Latin
language, which once united the whole world, is dead. The men of learning
have become the chief mouthpieces of national tradition and lost their sense of
an intellectual commonwealth.

Nowadays we are faced with the curious fact that the politicians, the practical
men of affairs, have become the exponents of international ideas. It is they
who have created the League of Nations.


Religion and Science

Everything that the human race has done and thought is concerned with the
satisfaction of felt needs and the assuagement of pain. One has to keep this
constantly in mind if one wishes to understand spiritual movements and their
development. Feeling and desire are the motive forces behind all human
endeavour and human creation, in however exalted a guise the latter may
present itself to us. Now what are the feelings and needs that have led men to
religious thought and belief in the widest sense of the words? A little
consideration will suffice to show us that the most varying emotions preside
over the birth of religious thought and experience. With primitive man it is
above all fear that evokes religious notions--fear of hunger, wild beasts,
sickness, death. Since at this stage of existence understanding of causal
connexions is usually poorly developed, the human mind creates for itself
more or less analogous beings on whose wills and actions these fearful
happenings depend. One's object now is to secure the favour of these beings
by carrying out actions and offering sacrifices which, according to the tradition
handed down from generation to generation, propitiate them or make them
well disposed towards a mortal. I am speaking now of the religion of fear.
This, though not created, is in an important degree stabilized by the formation
of a special priestly caste which sets up as a mediator between the people and
the beings they fear, and erects a hegemony on this basis. In many cases the
leader or ruler whose position depends on other factors, or a privileged class,
combines priestly functions with its secular authority in order to make the
latter more secure; or the political rulers and the priestly caste make common
cause in their own interests.

The social feelings are another source of the crystallization of religion. Fathers
and mothers and the leaders of larger human communities are mortal and
fallible. The desire for guidance, love, and support prompts men to form the
social or moral conception of God. This is the God of Providence who
protects, disposes, rewards, and punishes, the God who, according to the
width of the believer's outlook, loves and cherishes the life of the tribe or of
the human race, or even life as such, the comforter in sorrow and unsatisfied
longing, who preserves the souls of the dead. This is the social or moral
conception of God.

The Jewish scriptures admirably illustrate the development from the religion of
fear to moral religion, which is continued in the New Testament. The religions
of all civilized peoples, especially the peoples of the Orient, are primarily
moral religions. The development from a religion of fear to moral religion is a
great step in a nation's life. That primitive religions are based entirely on fear
and the religions of civilized peoples purely on morality is a prejudice against
which we must be on our guard. The truth is that they are all intermediate
types, with this reservation, that on the higher levels of social life the religion of
morality predominates.

Common to all these types is the anthropomorphic character of their
conception of God. Only individuals of exceptional endowments and
exceptionally high-minded communities, as a general rule, get in any real sense
beyond this level. But there is a third state of religious experience which
belongs to all of them, even though it is rarely found in a pure form, and which
I will call cosmic religious feeling. It is very difficult to explain this feeling to
anyone who is entirely without it, especially as there is no anthropomorphic
conception of God corresponding to it.

The individual feels the nothingness of human desires and aims and the
sublimity and marvellous order which reveal themselves both in nature and in
the world of thought. He looks upon individual existence as a sort of prison
and wants to experience the universe as a single significant whole. The
beginnings of cosmic religious feeling already appear in earlier stages of
development--e.g., in many of the Psalms of David and in some of the
Prophets. Buddhism, as we have learnt from the wonderful writings of
Schopenhauer especially, contains a much stronger element of it.

The religious geniuses of all ages have been distinguished by this kind of
religious feeling, which knows no dogma and no God conceived in man's
image; so that there can be no Church whose central teachings are based on
it. Hence it is precisely among the heretics of every age that we find men who
were filled with the highest kind of religious feeling and were in many cases
regarded by their contemporaries as Atheists, sometimes also as saints.
Looked at in this light, men like Democritus, Francis of Assisi, and Spinoza
are closely akin to one another.

How can cosmic religious feeling be communicated from one person to
another, if it can give rise to no definite notion of a God and no theology? In
my view, it is the most important function of art and science to awaken this
feeling and keep it alive in those who are capable of it.

We thus arrive at a conception of the relation of science to religion very
different from the usual one. When one views the matter historically one is
inclined to look upon science and religion as irreconcilable antagonists, and
for a very obvious reason. The man who is thoroughly convinced of the
universal operation of the law of causation cannot for a moment entertain the
idea of a being who interferes in the course of events--that is, if he takes the
hypothesis of causality really seriously. He has no use for the religion of fear
and equally little for social or moral religion. A God who rewards and
punishes is inconceivable to him for the simple reason that a man's actions are
determined by necessity, external and internal, so that in God's eyes he cannot
be responsible, any more than an inanimate object is responsible for the
motions it goes through. Hence science has been charged with undermining
morality, but the charge is unjust. A man's ethical behaviour should be based
effectually on sympathy, education, and social ties; no religious basis is
necessary. Man would indeed be in a poor way if he had to be restrained by
fear and punishment and hope of reward after death.

It is therefore easy to see why the Churches have always fought science and
persecuted its devotees. On the other hand, I maintain that cosmic religious
feeling is the strongest and noblest incitement to scientific research. Only those
who realize the immense efforts and, above all, the devotion which pioneer
work in theoretical science demands, can grasp the strength of the emotion
out of which alone such work, remote as it is from the immediate realities of
life, can issue. What a deep conviction of the rationality of the universe and
what a yearning to understand, were it but a feeble reflection of the mind
revealed in this world, Kepler and Newton must have had to enable them to
spend years of solitary labour in disentangling the principles of celestial
mechanics! Those whose acquaintance with scientific research is derived
chiefly from its practical results easily develop a completely false notion of the
mentality of the men who, surrounded by a sceptical world, have shown the
way to those like-minded with themselves, scattered through the earth and the
centuries. Only one who has devoted his life to similar ends can have a vivid
realization of what has inspired these men and given them the strength to
remain true to their purpose in spite of countless failures. It is cosmic religious
feeling that gives a man strength of this sort. A contemporary has said, not
unjustly, that in this materialistic age of ours the serious scientific workers are
the only profoundly religious people.

The Religiousness of Science

You will hardly find one among the profounder sort of scientific minds without
a peculiar religious feeling of his own. But it is different from the religion of the
naive man. For the latter God is a being from whose care one hopes to benefit
and whose punishment one fears; a sublimation of a feeling similar to that of a
child for its father, a being to whom one stands to some extent in a personal
relation, however deeply it may be tinged with awe.

But the scientist is possessed by the sense of universal causation. The future,
to him, is every whit as necessary and determined as the past. There is nothing
divine about morality, it is a purely human affair. His religious feeling takes the
form of a rapturous amazement at the harmony of natural law, which reveals
an intelligence of such superiority that, compared with it, all the systematic
thinking and acting of human beings is an utterly insignificant reflection. This
feeling is the guiding principle of his life and work, in so far as he succeeds in
keeping himself from the shackles of selfish desire. It is beyond question
closely akin to that which has possessed the religious geniuses of all ages.

The Plight of Science

The German-speaking countries are menaced by a danger to which those in
the know are in duty bound to call attention in the most emphatic terms. The
economic stress which political events bring in their train does not hit
everybody equally hard. Among the hardest hit are the institutions and
individuals whose material existence depends directly on the State. To this
category belong the scientific institutions and workers on whose work not
merely the well-being of science but also the position occupied by Germany
and Austria in the scale of culture very largely depends.

To grasp the full gravity of the situation it is necessary to bear in mind the
following consideration. In times of crisis people are generally blind to
everything outside their immediate necessities. For work which is directly
productive of material wealth they will pay. But science, if it is to flourish, must
have no practical end in view. As a general rule, the knowledge and the
methods which it creates only subserve practical ends indirectly and, in many
cases, not till after the lapse of several generations. Neglect of science leads
to a subsequent dearth of intellectual workers able, in virtue of their
independent outlook and judgment, to blaze new trails for industry or adapt
themselves to new situations. Where scientific enquiry is stunted the
intellectual life of the nation dries up, which means the withering of many
possibilities of future development. This is what we have to prevent. Now that
the State has been weakened as a result of nonpolitical causes, it is up to the
economically stronger members of the community to come to the rescue
directly, and prevent the decay of scientific life.

Far-sighted men with a clear understanding of the situation have set up
institutions by which scientific work of every sort is to be kept going in
Germany and Austria. Help to make these efforts a real success. In my
teaching work I see with admiration that economic troubles have not yet
succeeded in stifling the will and the enthusiasm for scientific research. Far
from it! Indeed, it looks as if our disasters had actually quickened the
devotion to non-material goods. Everywhere people are working with burning
enthusiasm in the most difficult circumstances. See to it that the will-power
and the talents of the youth of to-day do not perish to the grievous hurt of the
community as a whole.

Fascism and Science

A letter to Signor Rocco, Minister of State, Rome.

My dear Sir,

Two of the most eminent and respected men of science in Italy
have applied to me in their difficulties of conscience and
requested me to write to you with the object of preventing, if
possible, a piece of cruel persecution with which men of learning
are threatened in Italy. I refer to a form of oath in which fidelity
to the Fascist system is to be promised. The burden of my
request is that you should please advise Signor Mussolini to
spare the flower of Italy's intellect this humiliation.

However much our political convictions may differ, I know that
we agree on one point: in the progressive achievements of the
European mind both of us see and love our highest good. Those
achievements are based on the freedom of thought and of
teaching, on the principle that the desire for truth must take
precedence of all other desires. It was this basis alone that
enabled our civilization to take its rise in Greece and to celebrate
its rebirth in Italy at the Renaissance. This supreme good has
been paid for by the martyr's blood of pure and great men, for
whose sake Italy is still loved and reverenced to-day.

Far be it from me to argue with you about what inroads on
human liberty may be justified by reasons of State. But the
pursuit of scientific truth, detached from the practical interests of
everyday life, ought to be treated as sacred by every
Government, and it is in the highest interests of all that honest
servants of truth should be left in peace. This is also undoubtedly
in the interests of the Italian State and its prestige in the eyes of
the world.

Hoping that my request will not fall on deaf ears, I am, etc.

A. E.

Interviewers

To be called to account publicly for everything one has said, even in jest, an
excess of high spirits, or momentary anger, fatal as it must be in the end, is yet
up to a point reasonable and natural. But to be called to account publicly for
what others have said in one's name, when one cannot defend oneself, is
indeed a sad predicament. "But who suffers such a dreadful fate?" you will
ask. Well, everyone who is of sufficient interest to the public to be pursued by
interviewers. You smile incredulously, but I have had plenty of direct
experience and will tell you about it.

Imagine the following situation. One morning a reporter comes to you and
asks you in a friendly way to tell him something about your friend N. At first
you no doubt feel something approaching indignation at such a proposal. But
you soon discover that there is no escape. If you refuse to say anything, the
man writes: "I asked one of N.'s supposedly best friends about him. But he
prudently avoided my questions. This in itself enables the reader to draw the
inevitable conclusions." There is, therefore, no escape, and you give the
following information: "Mr. N. is a cheerful, straightforward man, much liked
by all his friends. He can find a bright side to any situation. His enterprise and
industry know no bounds; his job takes up his entire energies. He is devoted
to his family and lays everything he possesses at his wife's feet. . . "

Now for the reporter's version : "Mr. N. takes nothing very seriously and has
a gift for making himself liked, particularly as he carefully cultivates a hearty
and ingratiating manner. He is so completely a slave to his job that he has no
time for the considerations of any non-personal subject or for any mental
activity outside it. He spoils his wife unbelievably and is utterly under her
thumb. . ."

A real reporter would make it much more spicy, but I expect this will be
enough for you and your friend N. He reads this, and some more like it, in the
paper next morning, and his rage against you knows no bounds, however
cheerful and benevolent his natural disposition may be. The injury done to him
gives you untold pain, especially as you are really fond of him.

What's your next step, my friend? If you know, tell me quickly, so that I may
adopt your method with all speed.


Thanks to America

Mr. Mayor, Ladies, and Gentlemen,

The splendid reception which you have accorded to me to-day puts me to the
blush in so far as it is meant for me personally, but it gives me all the more
pleasure in so far as it is meant for me as a representative of pure science. For
this gathering is an outward and visible sign that the world is no longer prone
to regard material power and wealth as the highest goods. It is gratifying that
men should feel an urge to proclaim this in an official way.

In the wonderful two months which I have been privileged to spend in your
midst in this fortunate land, I have had many opportunities of observing what a
high value men of action and of practical life attach to the efforts of science; a
good

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