RESUMO
This paper uses a case study of a 1970s controversy in artificial-intelligence (AI) research to explore how scientists understand the relationships between research and practical applications. It is part of a project that seeks to map such relationships in order to enable better policy recommendations to be grounded empirically through historical evidence. In 1972 the mathematician James Lighthill submitted a report, published in 1973, on the state of artificial-intelligence research under way in the United Kingdom. The criticisms made in the report have been held to be a major cause behind the dramatic slowing down (subsequently called an 'AI winter') of such research. This paper has two aims, one narrow and one broad. The narrow aim is to inquire into the causes, motivations and content of the Lighthill report. I argue that behind James Lighthill's criticisms of a central part of artificial intelligence was a principle he held throughout his career - that the best research was tightly coupled to practical problem solving. I also show that the Science Research Council provided a preliminary steer to the direction of this apparently independent report. The broader aim of the paper is to map some of the ways that scientists (and in Lighthill's case, a mathematician) have articulated and justified relationships between research and practical, real-world problems, an issue previously identified as central to historical analysis of modern science. The paper therefore offers some deepened historical case studies of the processes identified in Agar's 'working-worlds' model.
RESUMO
Curiosity has a curious place in the history of science. In the early modern period, curiosity was doubled-edged: it was both a virtue, the spring for a 'love of truth', but also the source of human error and even personal corruption. In the twentieth century, curiosity had become an apparently uncomplicated motivation. Successful scientists, for example Nobel Prize winners in their lectures and biographies, frequently attributed their first steps into science to a fundamental curiosity, an irrepressible desire to ask the question 'why?'. The aside made by Albert Einstein in private correspondence in 1952-'I have no special talents. I am only passionately curious'-has now become a meme. Yet in the twentieth century, science was shaped by many forces, and the practical utility of science in the real, messy problematic worlds of its formation seem far removed from the seeming innocence of curiosity-driven research. In my lecture and this paper, I ask why scientists say they ask 'why?', and trace the curious history of the idea of curiosity-driven science. In particular, I distinguish between a long and short history of curiosity in science, with the latter associated with the term 'curiosity-driven science' and the UK administration of Margaret Thatcher.
RESUMO
This paper examines how links between the People's Republic of China and the UK were rebuilt in the 1970s. It not only fills a gap in the historiography but also makes three particular arguments. The first is that there were two intersecting institutional paths along which the rebuilding of links were followed: a foreign policy path, in which the most important body was the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and an academy-level path in which relations between the Royal Society and the Chinese Academy of Sciences (also known in the early years as the Academia Sinica) were crucial. Especially under conditions in which access and travel to China were extremely restricted, the Royal Society acted as a 'gatekeeper', rationing visits to a select few researchers. The second argument is that science was a strategic pathfinder or diplomatic 'avant garde'. The maintenance of scientific links, even during the most difficult periods of this history when they were all but severed, meant that a path was kept open to 'further communication and exchange between peoples-and governments', as Kathlin Smith has found in the broadly similar case of relations between China and the USA. In particular, scientific relations formed an important bridge in the negotiation and eventual agreement of the first treaty signed between the UK and communist China in 1978. It was no coincidence that this highest-level political agreement was accompanied by a parallel accord between the scientific academies. Third, I argue that, nevertheless, even this treaty was not entirely new, and that the model for the China-UK treaty was existing agreements on technology exchanges made with Eastern European countries.