Thus Mokyr’s three conditions are not sufficient. You also need a culture of discovery and of facticity to make sustained progress. You need, in addition, an understanding of the power of experimentation. You need a step change in the exchange of information which printing made possible. And you need luck or contingency: the conceptual foundations of the steam engine were laid by intellectuals keen to prove that Aristotle was wrong when he denied the possibility of a vacuum; without Aristotle no Boyle’s law. It is the absence of a comparable challenge that held back progress in medical therapeutics.
One of the key difficulties that Mokyr’s thesis faces — and he is properly aware of it — is that the industrial revolution of the first half of the 19th century doesn’t seem to depend on specific scientific theories; while later (as with the contribution of Pasteur to the germ theory of disease) specific intellectual breakthroughs begin to have immense practical returns. If the great divergence is the result of a new knowledge culture symbolised by the republic of letters, why was the gap between theoretical knowledge and practical knowledge so slow to close?
There are two ways of tackling this question, both I think correct. First, the gap has been exaggerated: Boyle’s law is important for the steam engine, for it makes it possible to grasp that steam power need not be just a toy, like the steam devices of Hero of Alexandria or Giambattista della Porta, but a workhorse, capable of moving heavy loads — which is why we measure “horsepower”. And second, and equally importantly, it is not just new scientific theories that count. What was disseminated by the scientific public lecturers of the early 18th century, such as John Theophilus Desaguliers, was not just knowledge, but a set of beliefs, beliefs in discovery, progress, facts, experiments. It is these beliefs, in a bootstrapping process, which made discovery and progress possible. And why did people believe in progress? Because of the compass, the printing press, the pendulum clock — but above all because of Newton. As the culture of science was disseminated it gave birth to a culture of invention. The intellectual tools required for scientific progress turned out, by happy chance, to be the very same ones required for technological progress.
A story like this seems to me much more plausible than Mokyr’s story. Karl Popper devised a three-world account of what exists: there is a physical reality (world one), a mental reality of thoughts and feelings (world two), and a third world, one of books and journals, of facts and theories. Scientific and technological advance requires the interaction of all three; Mokyr can handle the first two; he falls down, as perhaps any economist and any Darwinist must, when he comes to the third. In the end this book fails to adequately specify the culture of growth that made the modern economy possible. It misses out on the intellectual tools that made progress possible. But it belongs to that peculiar class of failures — failures that are important and advance our knowledge and understanding. As Samuel Beckett put it “Fail again. Fail better.”
One of the key difficulties that Mokyr’s thesis faces — and he is properly aware of it — is that the industrial revolution of the first half of the 19th century doesn’t seem to depend on specific scientific theories; while later (as with the contribution of Pasteur to the germ theory of disease) specific intellectual breakthroughs begin to have immense practical returns. If the great divergence is the result of a new knowledge culture symbolised by the republic of letters, why was the gap between theoretical knowledge and practical knowledge so slow to close?
There are two ways of tackling this question, both I think correct. First, the gap has been exaggerated: Boyle’s law is important for the steam engine, for it makes it possible to grasp that steam power need not be just a toy, like the steam devices of Hero of Alexandria or Giambattista della Porta, but a workhorse, capable of moving heavy loads — which is why we measure “horsepower”. And second, and equally importantly, it is not just new scientific theories that count. What was disseminated by the scientific public lecturers of the early 18th century, such as John Theophilus Desaguliers, was not just knowledge, but a set of beliefs, beliefs in discovery, progress, facts, experiments. It is these beliefs, in a bootstrapping process, which made discovery and progress possible. And why did people believe in progress? Because of the compass, the printing press, the pendulum clock — but above all because of Newton. As the culture of science was disseminated it gave birth to a culture of invention. The intellectual tools required for scientific progress turned out, by happy chance, to be the very same ones required for technological progress.
A story like this seems to me much more plausible than Mokyr’s story. Karl Popper devised a three-world account of what exists: there is a physical reality (world one), a mental reality of thoughts and feelings (world two), and a third world, one of books and journals, of facts and theories. Scientific and technological advance requires the interaction of all three; Mokyr can handle the first two; he falls down, as perhaps any economist and any Darwinist must, when he comes to the third. In the end this book fails to adequately specify the culture of growth that made the modern economy possible. It misses out on the intellectual tools that made progress possible. But it belongs to that peculiar class of failures — failures that are important and advance our knowledge and understanding. As Samuel Beckett put it “Fail again. Fail better.”


















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