Albert Einstein. The world as I see it



        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--Þ 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 GrÔco-Europeo-American culture as a whole, and in
particular its brilliant flowering in the Italian Renaissance,  which put an
end to the  stagnation of  mediÔval 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