The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis Author(s): Lynn White, Jr. Source: Science, New Series, Vol. 155, No. 3767 (Mar. 10, 1967), pp. 1203-1207 Published by: American Association for the Advancement of Science Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1720120 Accessed: 05/08/2009 16:33
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10 March 1967, Volume 155, Number 3767 S l I OI
The Historical Roots of Our Ecologic Crisis
Lynn White, Jr.
A conversation with Aldous Huxley not infrequently put one at the receiv- ing end of an unforgettable monologue. About a year before his lamented death he was discoursing on a favorite topic: Man’s unnatural treatment of na- ture and its sad results. To illustrate his point he told how, during the pre- vious summer, he had returned to a little valley in England where he had spent many happy months as a child. Once it had been composed of delight- ful grassy ‘glades; now it was becomm- ing overgrown with unsightly brush because the rabbits that formerly kept such growth under control had largely succumbed to a disease, myxomatosis, that was deliberately introduced by the local farmers to reduce the rabbits’ destruction of crops. Being something of a Philistine, I could be silent no longer, even in the interests of great rhetoric. I interrupted to point out that the rabbit itself had been brought as a domestic animal to England in 1176, presumably to improve the protein diet of the peasantry.
All forms of life modify their con- texts. The most spectacular and benign instance is doubtless the coral polyp. By serving its own ends, it has created a vast undersea world favorable to thousands of other kinds of animals and plants. Ever since man became a numerous species he has affected his environment notably. The hypothesis that his fire-drive method of hunting created the world’s great grasslands and
The author is professor of history at the Uni. versity of California, Los Angeles. This is the text of a lecture delivered 26 December 1966 at the Washington meeting of the AAAS.
10 MARCH 1967
helped to exterminate; the monster mammals of the Pleistocene from much of the globe is plausible, if not proved., For 6 millennia at least, the banks of the lower Nile have been a human artifact rather than the swampy African jungle which nature, apart from man, would have made it. The Aswan Dam, flooding 5000 square miles, is only the latest stage in a long process. In many regions terracing or irrigation, overgrazing, the cutting of forests by Romans to build ships to fight Carthaginians or by Cru- saders to solve the logistics problems of their expeditions, have profoundly changed some ecologies. Observa- tion that the French landscape falls into two basic types, the open fields of the north and the bocage of the south and west, inspired Marc Bloch to undertake his classic study of medie- val agricultural methods. Quite unin- tentionally, changes in human ways often affect nonhuman nature. It has been noted, for example, that the advent of the automobile eliminated huge flocks of sparrows that once fed on the horse manure littering every street.
The history of ecologic change is still so rudimentary that we know little about what really happened, or what the results were. The extinction of the European aurochs as late as 1627 would seem to have been a simple case of overenthusiastic hunting. On more intricate matters it often is impossible to find solid information. For a thou- sand years or more the Frisians and Hollanders have been pushing back the North Sea, and the process is culmi-
nating in our own time in the reclama- tion of the Zuider Zee. What, if any, species of animals, birds, fish, shore life, or plants have died out in the process? In their epic combat with Nep- tune have the Netherlanders overlooked ecological values in such a way that the quality of human life in the Neth- erlands has suffered? I cannot discover that the questions have ever been asked, much less answered.
People, then, have often been a dy- namic element in their own environment, but in the present state of historical scholarship we usually do not know exactly when, where, or with what ef- fects man-induced changes came. As we enter the last third of the 20th cen- tury, however, concern for the prob- lem of ecologic backlash is mounting feverishly. Natural science, conceived as the effort to understand the nature of things, had flourished in several eras and among several peoples. Similarly there had been an age-old accumula- tion of technological skills, sometimes growing rapidly, sometimes slowly. But it was not until about four genera- tions ago that Western Europe and North America arranged a marriage between science and technology, a union of the theoretical and the empiri- cal approaches to our natural environ- ment. The emergence in widespread practice of the Baconian creed that scientific knowledge means technologi- cal power over nature can scarcely be dated before about 1850, save in the chemical industries, where it is antici- pated in the 18th century. Its accept- anceas a normal pattern of action may mark the greatest event in human his- tory since the invention of agriculture, and perhaps in nonhuman terrestrial history as well.
Almost at once the new situation forced the crystallization of the novel concept of ecology; indeed, the word ecology first appeared in the English language in 1873. Today, less than a century later, the impact of our race upon the environment has so increased in force that it has changed in es- sence. When the first cannons were fired, in the early 14th century, they affected ecology by sending workers scrambling to the forests and moun-
tains for more potash, sulfur, iron ore, and charcoal, with some resulting ero- sion and deforestation. Hydrogen bombs are of a different order: a war fought with them might alter the gene- tics of all life on this planet. By 1285 London had a smog problem arising from the burning of soft coal, but our present combustion of fossil fuels threatens to change the chemistry of the globe’s atmosphere as a whole, with consequences which we are only beginning to guess. With the popula- tion explosion, the carcinoma of plan- less urbanism, the now geological deposits of sewage and garbage, surely no creature other than man has ever managed to foul its nest in such short order.
There are many calls to action, but specific proposals, however worthy as individual items, seem too partial, pal- liative, negative: ban the bomb, tear down the billboards, give the Hindus contraceptives and tell them to eat their sacred cows. The simplest solution to any suspect change is, of course, to stop it, or, better yet, to revert to a romanticized past: make those ugly gasoline stations look like Anne Hatha- way’s cottage or (in the Far West) like ghost-town saloons. The “wilderness area” mentality invariably advocates deep-freezing an ecology, whether San Gimignano or the High Sierra, as it was before the first Kleenex was drop- ped. But neither atavism nor prettifica- tion will cope with the ecologic crisis of our time.
What shall we do? No one yet knows. Unless we think about funda- mentals, our specific measures may produce new backlashes more serious than those they are designed to remedy.
As a beginning we should try to clarify our thinking by looking, in some historical depth, at the presup- positions that underlie modern tech- nology and science. Science was tradi- tionally aristocratic, speculative, intel- lectual in intent; technology was lower- class, empirical, action-oriented. The quite sudden fusion of these two, towards the middle of the 19th cen- tury, is surely related to the slightly prior and contemporary democratic revolutions which, by reducing social barriers, tended to assert a functional unity of brain and hand. Our ecologic crisis is the product of an emerging, entirely novel, democratic culture. The issue is whether a democratized world can survive its own implications. Pre- sumably we cannot unless we rethink our axioms.
The Western Traditions of
Technology and Science
One thing is so certain that it seems stupid to verbalize it: both modern technology and modern science are dis- tinctively Occidental. Our technology has absorbed elements from all over the world, notably from China; yet everywhere today, whether in Japan or in Nigeria, successful technology is Western. Our science is the heir to all the sciences of the past, especially perhaps to the work of the great Islamic scientists of the Middle Ages, who so often outdid the ancient Greeks in skill and perspicacity: al- Raizi in medicine, for example; or ibn- al-Haytham in optics; or Omar Khay- yam in mathematics. Indeed, not a few works of such geniuses seem to have vanished in the original Arabic and to survive only in medieval Latin transla- tions that helped to lay the founda- tions for later Western developments. Today, around the globe, all significant science is Western in style and method, whatever the pigmentation or language of the scientists.
A second pair of facts is less well recognized because they result from quite recent historical scholarship. The leadership of the West, both in tech- nology and in science, is far older than the so-called Scientific Revolution of the 17th century or the so-called Industrial Revolution of the 18th cen- tury. These terms are in fact out- moded and obscure the true nature of what they try to describe-significant stages in two long and separate devel- opments. By A.D. 1000 at the latest -and perhaps, feebly, as much as 200 years earlier-the West began to apply water power to industrial processes other than milling grain. This was fol- lowed in the late 12th century by the harnessing of wind power. From simple beginnings, but with remarkable con- sistency of style, the West rapidly ex- panded its skills in the development of power machinery, labor-saving devices, and automation. Those who doubt should contemplate that most monumental achievement in the history of automation: the weight-driven me- chanical clock, which appeared in two forms in the early 14th century. Not in craftsmanship but in basic techano- logical capacity, the Latin West of the later Middle Ages far outstripped its elaborate, sophisticated, and estheti- cally magnificent sister cultures, By- zanltiumn and Islam. In 1 444 a great Greek ecclesiastic, Bessarion, who h~ad
gone to Italy, wrote a letter to a prince in Greece. He is amazed by the superiority of Western ships, arms, textiles, glass. But above all he is astonished by the spectacle of water- wheels sawing timbers and pumping the bellows of blast furnaces. Clearly, he had seen nothing of the sort in the Near East.
By the end of the 15th century the technological superiority of Europe was such that its small, mutually hostile nations could spill out over all the rest of the world, conquering, looting, and colonizing. The symbol of this techno- logical superiority is the fact that Portugal, one of the weakest states of the Occident, was able to become, and to remain for a century, mistress of the East Indies. And we must remem- ber that the technology of Vasco da Gama and Albuquerque was built by pure empiricism, drawing remarkably little support or inspiration from science.
In the present-day vernacular under- standing, modern science is supposed to have begun in 1543, when both Copernicus and Vesalius published their great works. It is no derogation of their accomplishments, however, to point out that such structures as the Fabrica and the De revolutionibus do not appear overnight. The distinctive Western tradition of science, in fact, began in the late 11th century with a massive movement of translation of Arabic and Greek scientific works into Latin. A few notable books-Theo- phrastus, for example-escaped the West’s avid new appetite for science, but within less than 200 years effec- tively the entire corpus of Greek and Muslim science was available in Latin, and was being eagerly read and criti- cized in the new European universi- ties. Out of criticism arose new ob- servation, speculation, and increasing distrust of ancient authorities. By the late 13th century Europe had seized global scientific leadership from the fal- tering hands of Islam. It would be as absurd to deny the profound originality of Newton, Galileo, or Copernicus as to deny that of the 14th century scbo- lastic scientists like Buridan or Oresme on whose work they built. Before the 11th century, science scarcely existed in the Latin West, even in Roman times. From the 11th century onward, the scientific sector of Occidental cul- ture has increased in a steady crescen- do.
Since both our technological and our scientific movements got their start, acquired their character, and achieved
SCIENCE, VOL. 155
world dominance in the Middle Ages, it would seem that we cannot understand their nature or their present impact upon ecology without examining funda- mental medieval assumptions and developments.
Medieval View of Man and Nature
Until recently, agriculture has been the chief occupation even in “ad- vanced” societies; hence, any change in methods of tillage has much im- portance. Early plows, drawn by two oxen, did not normally turn the sod but merely scratched it. Thus, cross- plowing was needed and fields tended to be squarish. In the fairly light soils and semiarid climates of the Near East and Mediterranean, this worked well. But such a plow was inappropriate to the wet climate and often sticky soils of northern Europe. By the latter part of the 7th century after Christ, how- ever, following obscure beginnings, cer- tain northern peasants were using an entirely new kind of plow, equipped with a vertical knife to cut the line of the furrow, a horizontal share to slice under the sod, and a moldboard to turn it over. The friction of this plow with the soil was so great that it normally required not two but eight oxen. It attacked the land with such violence that cross-plowing was not needed, and fields tended to be shaped in long strips.
In the days of the scratch-plow, fields were distributed generally in units capable of supporting a single family. Subsistence farming was the presupposi- tion. But no peasant owned eight oxen: to use the new and more efficient plow, peasants pooled their oxen to form large plow-teams, originally receiving (it would appear) plowed strips in pro- portion to their contribution. Thus, dis- tribution of land was based no longer on the needs of a family but, rather, on the capacity of a power machine to till the earth. Man’s relation to the soil was profoundly changed. Former- ly man had been part of nature; now he was the exploiter of nature. Nowhere else in the world did farm- ers develop any analogous agricultural implement. Is it coincidence that mod- ern technology, with its ruthlessness toward nature, has so largely been pro- duced by descendants of these peasants of northern Europe?t
This same exploitive attitude ame pears slightly before A.D. 830 in West- ern illustrated’ calendars. In older calen- 10 MARCH 1967
dars the’ months were shown as pas- sive personifications. The new Frankish calendars, which set the style for the Middle Ages, are very different: they show men coercing the world around them-plowing, harvesting, chopping trees, butchering pigs. Man and nature are two things, and man is master.
These novelties seem to be in har- mony with larger intellectual patterns. What people do about their ecology’ depends on what- they think’ about themselves in relation to things around them. Human ecology is deeply condi- tioned by beliefs about our nature and destiny-that is, by religion. To Western eyes this is very evident in, say, India or Ceylon. It is equally true of our- selves and of our medieval ancestors.
The victory of Christianity over paganism was the greatest psychic revolution in the history of our cul- ture. It has become fashionable today to say that, for better or worse, we live in “the post-Christian age.” Cer- tainly the forms of our thinking and language have largely ceased to be Christian, but to my eye the substance often remains amazingly akin to that of the past. Our daily habits of action, for example, are dominated by an implicit faith in perpetual progress which was unknown either to Greco- Roman antiquity or to the Orient. It is rooted in, and is indefensible apart from, Judeo-Christian teleology. The fact that Communists share it merely helps to show what can be demon- strated on many other grounds: that Marxism, like Islam, is a Judeo-Chris- tian heresy. We continue today to live, as we have lived for about 1700 years, very largely in a context of Christian axioms.
What did Christianity tell people about their relations with the environ- ment?
While many of the world’s mytholo- gies provide stories of creation, Greco- Roman mythology was singularly in- coherent in this respect. Like Aristotle, the intellectuals of the ancient West denied that the visible world had had- a beginning. Indeed, the idea of a be- ginning was impossible in the frame- work of their cyclical notion of time. In sharp contrast, Christianity inherited from Judaism not only a concept of time as nonrepetitive and linear but also a striking story of creation. By gradual stages a loving and all-power- ful God’ had created light and dark- ness, the heavenly boodies, the earth and all its plants, animals, birds, and fishes. Finally, God had created Adam
and, as an afterthought, Eve to keep man from being lonely. Man named all the animals, thus establishing his domi- nance over them. God planned all of this explicitly for man’s benefit and rule: no item in the physical creation had any purpose save to serve man’s purposes. And, although man’s body is made of clay, he is not simply part of nature: he is made in God’s image.
Especially in its Western form, Christianity is the most anthropocen- tric religion the world has seen. As early as the 2nd century both Tertul- lian and Saint Irenaeus of Lyons were insisting that when God shaped Adam he was foreshadowing the image of the incarnate Christ, the Second Adam. Man shares, in great measure, God’s transcendence of nature. Christianity, in absolute contrast to ancient pagan- ism and Asia’s religions (except, perhaps, Zoroastrianism), not only es- tablished a dualism of man and na- ture but also insisted that it is God’s will that man exploit nature for his proper ends.
At the level of the common people this worked out in an interesting way. In Antiquity every tree, every spring, every stream, every hill had its own genius loci, its guardian spirit. These spirits were accessible to men, but were very unlike men; centaurs, fauns, and mermaids show their ambivalence. Be- fore one cut a tree, mined a mountain, or dammed a brook, it was important to placate the spirit in charge of that particular situation, and to keep it placated. By destroying pagan animism, Christianity made it possible to exploit nature in a mood of indifference to the feelings of natural objects.
It is often said that for animism the Church substituted the cult of saints. True; but the cult of saints is func- tionally quite different from animism. The saint is not in natural objects; he may have special shrines, but his citi- zenship is in heaven. Moreover, a saint is entirely a man; he can be approached in human terms. In addition to saints, Christianity of course also had angels and demons inherited from Judaism and perhaps, at one remove, from Zoroastrianism. But these were all as mobile as the saints themselves. The spirits in natural objects, which for- merly had protected nature from man, evaporated. Man’s effective monopoly on spirit in -this world was confirmed, and the old inhibitions to the exploita- tion of nature crumbled.
When one speaks in such sweeping terms, a note of caution is in order.
Christianity is a complex faith, and its consequences differ in differing con- texts. What I have said may well apply to the medieval West, where in fact technology made spectacular advances. But the Greek East, a highly civilized realm of equal Christian devotion, seems to have produced no marked technological innovation after the late 7th century, when Greek fire was in- vented. The key to the contrast may perhaps be found in a difference in the tonality of piety and thought which students of comparative theology find between the Greek and the Latin Churches. The Greeks believed that sin was intellectual blindness, and that salvation was found in illumination, orthodoxy-that is, clear thinking. The Latins, on the other hand, felt that sin was moral evil, and that salvation was to be found in right conduct. Eastern theology has been intellectualist. West- ern theology has been voluntarist. The Greek saint contemplates; the Western saint acts. The implications of Chris- tianity for the conquest of nature would emerge more easily in the Western atmosphere.
The Christian dogma of creation, which is found in the first clause of all the Creeds, has another meaning for our comprehension of today’s ecologic crisis. By revelation, God had given man the Bible, the Book of Scrip- ture. But since God had made na- ture, nature also must reveal the divine mentality. The religious study of na- ture for the better understanding of God was known as natural theology. In the early Church, and always in the Greek East, nature was conceived pri- marily as a symbolic system through which God speaks to men: the ant is a sermon to sluggards; rising flames are the symbol of the soul’s aspiration. This view of nature was essentially artistic rather than scientific. While Byzantium preserved and copied great numbers of ancient Greek scientific texts, science as we conceive it could scarcely flourish in such an ambience.
However, in the Latin West by the early 13th century natural theology was following a very different bent. It was ceasing to be the decoding of the physical symbols of God’s communica- tion with man and was becoming the effort to understand God’s mind by discovering how his creation operates. The rainbow was no longer simply a symbol of hope first sent to Noah after the Deluge: Robert Grosseteste, Friar Roger Bacon, and Theodoric of Frei-
berg produced startlingly sophisticated work on the optics of the rainbow, but they did it as a venture in religious understanding. From the 13th century onward, up to and including Leibnitz and Newton, every major scientist, in effect, explained his motivations in-reli- gious terms. Indeed, if Galileo had not been so expert an amateur theologian he would have got into far less trouble: the professionals resented his intrusion. And Newton seems to have regarded himself more as a theologian than as a scientist. It was not until the late 18th century that the hypothesis of God became unnecessary to many scientists.
It is often hard for the historian to judge, when men explain why they are doing what they want to do, whether they are offering real reasons or merely culturally acceptable reasons. The con- sistency with which scientists during the long formative centuries of Western science said that the task and the reward of the scientist was “to think God’s thoughts after him” leads one to believe that this was their real moti- vation. If so, then modern Western science was cast in a matrix of Chris- tian theology. The dynamism of reli- gious devotion, shaped by the Judeo- Christian dogma of creation, gave it impetus.
An Alternative Christian View
We would seem to be headed toward conclusions unpalatable to many Chris- tians. Since both science and technol- ogy are blessed words in our contem- porary vocabulary, some may be happy at the notions, first, that, viewed historically, modern science is an ex- trapolation of natural theology and, second, that modern technology is at least partly to be explained as an Occi- dental, voluntarist realization of the Christian dogma of man’s transcend- ence of, and rightful mastery over, nature. But, as we now recognize, somewhat over a century ago science and technology-hitherto quite separate activities-joined to give mankind pow- ers which, to judge by many of the ecologic effects, are out of control. If so, Christianity bears a huge bur- den of guilt.
I personally doubt that disastrous ecologic backlash can be avoided simply by applying to our: problems more science and more technology. Our science and technology have grown out of Christian attitudes toward man’s
relation to nature which are almost universally held not only by Christians and neo-Christians but also by those who fondly regard themselves as post- Christians. Despite Copernicus, all the cosmos rotates around our little globe. Despite Darwin, we are not, in our hearts, part of the natural process. We are superior to nature, contemptuous of it, willing to use it for our slightest whim. The newly elected Governor of California, like myself a churchman but less troubled than I, spoke for the Christian tradition when he said (as is alleged), “when you’ve seen one red- wood tree, you’ve seen them all.” To a Christian a tree can be no more than a physical fact. The whole concept of the sacred grove is alien to Christianity and to the ethos of the West. For nearly 2 millennia Christian missionaries have been chopping down sacred groves, which are idolatrous because they as- sume spirit in nature.
What we do about ecology depends on lour ideas of the man-nature rela- tionship. More science and more tech- nology are not going to get us out of the present ecologic crisis until we find a new religion, or rethink our old one. The beatniks, who are the basic revolutionaries of our time, show a sound instinct in their affinity for Zen Buddhism, which conceives of the man- nature relationship as very nearly the mirror image of the Christian view. Zen, however, is as deeply conditioned by Asian history as Christianity is by the experience of the West, and I am dubious of its viability among us.
Possibly we should ponder the great- est radical in Christian history since Christ: Saint Francis of Assisi. The prime miracle of Saint Francis is the fact that he did not end at the stake, as many of his left-wing followers did. He was so clearly heretical that a Gen- eral of the Franciscan Order, Saint Bonaventura, a great and perceptive Christian, tried to suppress the early accounts of Franciscanism. The key to an understanding of Francis is his be- lief in the virtue of humility-not merely for the individual but for man as a species. Francis tried to depose man from his monarchy over creation and set up a democracy of all God’s creatures. With him the ant is no long- er simply a homily for the lazy, flames a sign of the thrust of the soul toward union with God; now they are Broth- er Ant and Sister Fire, praising the Creator in their own ways as Brother Man does inl his.
SCIENCE, VOL. 155
Later commentators have said that Francis preached to the birds as a re- buke to men who would not listen. The records do not read so: he urged the little birds to praise God, and in spirit- ual ecstasy they flapped their wings and chirped rejoicing. Legends of saints, especially the Irish saints, had long told of their dealings with animals but always, I believe, to show their human dominance over creatures. With Francis it is different. The land around Gubbio in the Apennines was being ravaged by a fierce wolf. Saint Francis, says the legend, talked to the wolf and persuaded him of the error of his ways. The wolf repented, died in the odor of sanctity, and was buried in consecrated ground.
What Sir Steven Ruciman calls “the Franciscan doctrine of the animal soul” was quickly stamped out. Quite possibly it was in part inspired, con- sciously or unconsciously, by the belief in reincarnation held by the Cathar heretics who at that time teemed in Italy and southern France, and who presumably had got it originally from India. It is significant that at just the same moment, about 1200, traces of
metempsychosis are found also in western Judaism, in the Provengal Cabbala. But Francis held neither to transmigration of souls nor to pan- theism. His view of nature and of man rested on a unique sort of pan-psychism of all things animate and inanimate, designed for the glorification of their transcendent Creator, who, in the ulti- mate gesture of cosmic humility, as- sumed flesh, lay helpless in a manger, and hung dying on a scaffold.
I am not suggesting that many con- temporary Americans who are con- cerned about our ecologic crisis will be either able or willing to counsel with wolves or exhort birds. However, the present increasing disruption of the global environment is the product of a dynamic technology and science which were originating in the Western medi- eval world against which Saint Fran- cis was rebelling in so original a way. Their growth cannot be under- stood historically apart from distinc- tive attitudes toward nature which are deeply grounded in Christian dogma. The fact that most people do not think of these attitudes as Christian is ir- relevant. No new set of basic values
has been accepted in our society to dis- place those of Christianity. Hence we shall continue to have a worsening ecologic crisis until we reject the Chris- tian axiom that nature has no reason for existence save to serve man.
The greatest spiritual revolutionary in Western history, Saint Francis, pro- posed what he thought was an alterna- tive Christian view of nature and man’s relation to it: he tried to substitute the idea of the equality of all creatures, in- cluding man, for the idea of man’s limitless rule of creation. He failed. Both our present science and our present technology are so tinctured with orthodox Christian arrogance toward nature that no solution for our ecologic crisis can be expected from them alone. Since the roots of our trouble are so largely religious, the remedy must also be essentially reli- gious, whether we call it that or not. We must rethink and refeel our na- ture and destiny. The profoundly reli- gious, but heretical, sense of the primi- tive Franciscans for the spiritual auton- omy of all parts of nature may point a direction. I propose Francis as a patron saint for ecologists.
One tiundred Periodic Comets
Modern techniques of observation and computation are enabling us to clarify our ideas about these bodies.
Brian G. Marsden
Although Seneca remarked almost 2000 years ago that comets were celestial bodies that might reappear periodically, ideas on the subject were dominated until the 16th century by the pronouncements of Aristotle and Ptol- emy that comets were meteorological phenomena to be regarded as the fore- runners of disaster.
The turning point came when Tycho Brahe showed the comet of 1577 to be more distant than Moon. Tycho sup- posed it to travel about Sun in a circular orbit somewhat larger than that of Venus. Curiously enough, Kepler never
10 MARCH 1967
applied his laws of planetary motion to comets and believed them to move through the solar system in straight lines. Some of Kepler’s contemporaries, however, such as Horatio Grassi and William Lbwer, held that cometary orbits were indeed ellipses.
It was of course Newton who settled the question by demonstrating that the comet of 1680 moved, in accordance with the law of gravitation, in an orbit that was an ellipse of such great eccen- tricity that it could be approximated by a parabola. Shortly afterwards, in the course of his celebrated calculations on
a number of comets, Halley noticed a resemblance among the orbits of the comets of 1531, 1607, and 1682; he deduced these to be one and the same body and predicted that it would return about the year 1758.
Other predictions, based on the similarity of various pairs of cometary orbits, were made from time to time by several astronomers during the 18th and 19th centuries. The futility of this prac- tice was finally pointed out in the 1860’s by Hoek (1). He suggested that there were many instances in which comets traveled essentially in the same orbit; presumably they were fragments of some comet that had disintegrated. The existence of these “comet groups” ren- ders it impossible to decide whether two comets with similar orbits are identical or not, unless the revolution period of one of them can be derived unequiv- ocally from the observations.
The first comet for which a meaning- ful elliptical orbit was obtained’ directly from observations was one discovered by Messier in 1770. Considerable diffi-
The author is an astronomer at the Smith- sonian Astrophysical Observatory, Cambridge, Massachusetts, and lecturer on astronomy at Harvard University.