Gould, Eight (or Fewer) Little Piggies

would have been set had Bach or Scarlatti sported eight deeply and ineffably named fingers per hand.

I love the idea, but I decry the apology and abnegation implied by the designation of "philistine" for contingency. This unnecessary humility follows an unfortunate tradition of self-hate among scientists who deal with the complex, unrepeatable, and unpredictable events of history. We are trained to think that the "hard science" models of quantification, experimentation, and replication are inherently superior and exclusively canonical, so that any other set of techniques can only pale by comparison. But historical science proceeds by reconstructing a set of contingent events, explaining in retrospect what could not have been predicted beforehand. If the evidence be sufficient, the explanation can be as rigorous and confident as anything done in the realm of experimental science. In any case, this is the way the world works, no apologies needed.

Contingency is rich and fascinating; it embodies an exquisite tension between the power of individuals to modify history and the intelligible limits set by laws of nature. The details of individual and species' lives are not mere frills, without power to shape the large-scale course of events, but particulars that can alter entire futures, profoundly and forever.

Consider the primary example from American history. Northern victory was not inevitable in the Civil War, for the South was not fighting a war of conquest (unwinnable given their inferiority in manpower and economic wealth), but a struggle to induce war weariness and to compel the North to recognize their boundaries. The Confederacy had almost succeeded in 1863. Its armies were deep into Pennsylvania; draft riots were about to break out in New York City. Massachusetts was arming the first regiment of free black volunteers--not from an abstract sense of racial justice, but from an urgent need for more bodies. In this context, the crucial Battle of Gettysburg occurred in early July. Robert E. Lee made a fateful error in thinking that his guns had knocked out the Union battery, and he sent his men into the nightmare of Pickett's Charge. Suppose we could rerun history and give Lee another chance. This time, armed with better intelligence perhaps, he does not blunder and prevails. In this replay, the South might win the war, and all subsequent American history becomes radically different. The actual outcome at Gettysburg is no minor frill in an inevitable unrolling of events but a potential setting point of all later patterns.

Never apologize for an explanation that is "only" contingent and not ordained by invariant laws of nature--for contingent events have made our world and our lives. If you ever feel the slightest pull in that dubious direction, think of poor Heathcliff, who would have been spared so much agony if only he had stayed a few more minutes to eavesdrop upon the conversation of Catherine and Nelly (yes, the book wouldn't have been as good, but consider the poor man's soul). Think of Bill Buckner who would never again let Mookie Wilson's easy grounder go through his legs--if only he could have another chance. Think of the alternative descendants of Ichthyostega, with only four fingers on each hand. Think of arithmetic with base eight, the difficulty of playing triple fugues on the piano, and the conversion of this essay into an illegible Roman tombstone, for how could I separate words withoutathumbtopressthe spacebaronthistypewriter.

Stephen Jay Gould teaches biology, geology, and the history of science at Harvard University.


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