About a month ago, I wrote about the importance of “standing on the shoulders of giants,” in my note "Standing on the Shoulders of Giants: The Unsung Path to Innovation". My advice then was simple: when embarking on a new project or tackling a complex problem, follow the wisdom of Newton—find your giants, climb on their shoulders, and use the elevated view to dream bigger and contribute to humanity’s understanding.
Well, life has a funny way of teaching lessons, and after a recent event, my enthusiasm for climbing those metaphorical shoulders has waned. Sometimes, when you climb too high, you risk falling flat on your backside—painfully.
A Roller Coaster of Peer Review
As a member of several publishing boards, part of my job is determining whether a submitted paper deserves to grace the pages of an academic journal. Recently, I had to evaluate a paper on foundations of quantum mechanics, which, as you might imagine, had stirred up quite the debate among its reviewers. Two gave it positive, albeit superficial, reviews, while one reviewer passionately tore it apart, backed by meticulous analysis.
Now, quantum mechanics is close to my heart, so I dove in headfirst. The paper referenced Freeman Dyson, particularly his work “Why is Maxwell’s Theory So Hard to Understand?”. Dyson, as many in the field will know, is no lightweight. The man’s a legend—he’s responsible for everything from Dyson spheres to eternal intelligence. If there’s a Mount Olympus for physicists, Dyson is sitting comfortably at the top.
But then things started to get interesting...
Enter Dyson's World of Confusion
As I waded through Dyson's work on Maxwell’s electrodynamic theory, I couldn’t help but admire his writing. He starts strong, with captivating lines like:
"The importance of Maxwell's work was not obvious to his contemporaries... For more than twenty years, his theory of electromagnetism was largely ignored. Physicists found it hard to understand because the equations were complicated. Mathematicians found it hard to understand because Maxwell used physical language to explain it.”
I was nodding along enthusiastically. Yes, yes! Physics and math not always seeing eye-to-eye—makes perfect sense.
Then, Dyson drops this gem about modesty (or the lack thereof):
"Modesty is not always a virtue. Maxwell’s modesty set back the progress of physics by twenty years. Mendel’s modesty set back biology by fifty years. If people make great discoveries, they should not be too modest to blow their own trumpets."
Ah! A philosophical nugget! And there I was, suddenly hit with an uncomfortable realization. I’d been too modest with my own work—my EEQT theory. Out of some misplaced humility, I even skipped presenting my own research at an international conference I helped organize. What was I thinking? As Dyson says, modesty sometimes just gets in the way of progress!
Physics or Philosophical Puzzle?
But just as I was patting myself on the back for learning this life lesson, Dyson took a turn into some rather strange territory.
"The conventional unit of electric field strength is the square root of a joule per cubic meter... a square root of a joule is not a unit of anything tangible... The unit of electric field strength is a mathematical abstraction.(...) It means that an electric field-strength is an abstract quantity, incommensurable with any quantities that we can measure directly.”
Wait, what?
At this point, my brain started doing somersaults. Dyson wasn’t talking about some esoteric theory or the philosophical implications of physics—he was talking about electric field strength. This is something you can measure, right? I mean, you can feel a magnetic field pulling a compass needle, and the Lorentz force acts on charges in an electric field. These aren’t just abstract notions.
I was genuinely torn. Am I in the wrong universe? Has the physics I know and love been lying to me all these years? Maybe I should go back to elementary school physics or, as Dyson would suggest, just trust the giant and move on without asking too many questions. Perhaps, dear reader, you can help me untangle this mess?
The Verdict: A Paper with No Punch
Now, back to that quantum mechanics paper with the mixed reviews. After slogging through the Dyson-inspired bits, I realized the author had presented an entertaining read but brought nothing new to the table. It was like watching a well-acted movie with a plot you’ve seen a thousand times—pleasant, but no surprises.
Even though the author represented the Boeing Corporation (a bit of a giant themselves), I had to do the unthinkable. I recommended rejection. Sometimes, saying “no” is a duty, even when you’d rather say “yes.”
Lessons from the Fall
So, what have I learned from this strange journey through Dyson, modesty, and physics?
- Climbing on giants' shoulders is risky—you might see further, but the fall can be harder. Proceed with caution.
- Modesty isn’t always a virtue. Sometimes, it holds you back more than it helps.
- Not all giants are infallible. Even the best minds can baffle you, leaving you questioning your very existence—or at least your understanding of electric fields.
And with that, I’ll step off these lofty shoulders, bruised but wiser, ready to approach my next project with both caution and confidence.
