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Transactions and Proceedings of the Royal Society of New Zealand, Volume 83, 1955-56, Page xxxix

Turning to science and the humanities, the former is now in the van of intellectual pursuits; one indication of this is the steady rise in graduates and undergraduates in science as shown in the 1948 report on “Scientific Manpower and Resources” in New Zealand. It is of interest to recall that, when science commenced to rear its head, not so long ago, it met antagonism from the classicists who had held the fort for so long, and who considered the scientist to be uncultured, even ungentlemanly; an attitude which now seems strange and stupid, though there was nothing particularly unusual about it at that time when snobbery in most things was the order of the day. But it is to be hoped that the swinging pendulum toward science will not result in the humanities losing their rightful place in our culture. Though one finds some consolation in some of our cultural societies, one fears this trend in New Zealand where there seems to have been little opposition to it in our pre-university schools; perhaps because education has been more of a technological or vocational nature to meet the demands of a developing country, though a potent influence could be the universal expansion of world knowledge beyond the humanities, making specialisation a necessity. Nevertheless, while bowing before the shitting scene, and no matter one's regrets, I think the vogue is carried too far when specialisation is allowed to send its roots into pre-university education; the authors of the manpower report already referred to were obviously alive to this when they recommended that, at the post primary stage, there should be no specialisation whatsoever until the completion of the school certificate years, and that, though they considered specialisation to be desirable in the Sixth Form, the study of cultural subjects should be included. I fear that if a liberal training is no longer fostered, then a means is lost thereby of keeping the mind elastic and plastic, of training it to look round corners, and of preventing it from becoming harnessed to blinkers; indeed, without that liberal training, the body of understanding is taken out of basic knowledge. But whatever the fate of the humanities may be, science has come to claim the attention of everybody. A contributing factor (apart from popular literature—good and bad) is doubtless the stress laid on physical and biological science in the conflicting international policies. Indeed, science has become a household word and consequently is liable to meet the fate of all its kind—there often being little understanding and much misunderstanding of it outside scientific circles, with rare attempts to have the fault remedied. Misunderstanding is reasonable enough among laymen, many of whom even look on the scientist as a being moving in an intellectual world outside that of his fellow mortals— perhaps as a sort of magician or witchdoctor; an attitude largely born of a common opinion that science must be beyond the ken of all but a favoured few, or perhaps partly nourished by a natural mistrust of those phenomena with

which the scientist dabbles, or inspired, maybe, by that superstition which the physician Osler said “remains a permanent fact in spite of civilisation and education”. But the scientist need be no more apart from his fellows than is anyone also—he certainly is not a witchdoctor whose world is the realm of shamanism. But perhaps a more cogent cause of misunderstanding science is the opinion held by so many people that science is a coldly dispassionate, an almost inhuman, soulless sort of business; too often one hears this belief being impressed upon lay audiences from high places—I recently heard it stated from there, that to live in a purely scientific atmosphere must be hell; so apparently it is to be understood that the dispassion of science can be both cold and hot. Nevertheless, as in so many mis-statements, there is a modicum of truth in this one when scientific dispassion is interpreted as an impartial approach to problems—but no further. For the rest, the scientist need only peep over the fence (if there be one) to see the cold inhumanity and soullessness in so much of the passing world— one aspect of which (doubtless lending support to sunderstanding) is the application of scientific achievements to the machinery of war; the many other ways that science has come to propel the machinery of peace, to the greater benefit of mankind, being taken for granted and as readily forgotten. So it comes, through lack of rational thought, that declarations on what is loosely called scientific materialism, rather than realistic humanism, are as frequent as they are indeterminate—just as is at least one obvious corollary to the effect that scientists, as a consequence, must be un-Christian. But when un-Christianity is found among scientists, it is not necessarily because of science, it is a failing to which all mankind is prone when the urge of self-preservation asserts itself, or when man's innate brutality, selfishness, or any other form of rebelliousness breaks cover—and the pity of it is that we have at hand those fundamental laws that would effectively control this human behaviour if it were not for so much apathy toward their application. However, it is of little use attempting to remedy misconceptions about science without a realisation of what science is. There have been many able definitions, but it could not be more appropriate than to refer here to an essay on the subject written by that logician, the Rev. R. Kidd, and published in the seventh volume of the Transactions of this Society. That author concludes that, “Science, therefore, in the abstract, is the valid inference of generic truth”, and in the concrete it is “a formulated department of generic truths legitimately assumed and inferred”. He then goes on to deal with the abstract use of the term Science, related as it is to Philosophy, as being applicable to subjects beyond those fields of science which he designates as the developed and methodised departments of generic knowledge, and so considers that the “treatment of a subject may be scientific whatever the subject may be”. On this thesis, then, one can find in Science, through which runs the life-line of Truth, an approach open to all who care to understand and apply it, and who are willing to look round those corners and discard those blinkers already referred to. On this wise we have a means to see beyond any limiting walls out on to the common highway of Life where everybody, in all walks, has at his disposal a universal basic formula on which to order all aspects of his life—his sincere approach to his labours, however commonplace or specialised, to his beliefs, however simple or profound, and to his fellow-men, however diverse.

When reviewing the numerous organisations established for the furtherance of culture in New Zealand, with the object of gaining some definite information on them, I attempted a census. This was to be both of the organisations themselves and of their memberships (particularly of societies) as it would have been of value to know the exact extent and influence of the societies as well as the percentage of the population interested in them. However, I soon found myself inextricably involved in a subject that required a special study for which I had not the leisure. Though the seats of learning and Government Departments together with other institutions and the more obvious societies, would have presented little difficulty, the seemingly complicated ficatios of less clearly defined cultural organisations as well as the interlockings of membership, were an obstacle to any detailed and worthwhile understanding of the position as a whole. Therefore, I must be content for the moment to confine myself for the most part to generalities, one obvious generality being that the cultural interests of the country are almost as varied as they are universal. They can be broadly grouped as follows:— (1) The University of New Zealand, the affiliated colleges, and the schools (including denonational ones), together with their internal societies covering a wide field. (2) Certain Government Departments and Research Institutions. (3) Library Services (which reach virtually into every home). (4) Museums and Art Galleries. (5) Societies. Scientific and semi-scientific; Historical, Art, Music, Drama and Literary. Of these organisations the seats of learning. Government Departments concerned and Research Institutions, Museums and Art Galleries, and Library Services are the basis of our culture reflecting on the whole community. Of the varied Societies, some are specialised, some have a more general influence, while others embrace the wider field of the general public. On the other hand, some local societies, having the same purpose, are banded together as national institutions, while others are not; most societies are dependent on their own resources, and are either financially stable or in straitened circumstances, while one or two receive outside aid but are not necessarily financially stable. In order that these societies may thrive and maintain a worthwhile influence, it is a duty to lend personal support to whatever aspect in which one's interest lies. However, I think, though the development of cultural societies is a healthy sign, more thought could be given in some cases as to whether there should not be a merging of related interests to form more stable organisations and to avoid dissipation of effort and duplication of subscriptions where one would serve. On the subject of finance (and quite apart from the general maintenance of education) it is of interest to consider the numerous awards as fellowships, scholarships, bursaries and prizes available for the encouragement of culture, exclusive of those the source of which is overseas. These awards are furnished by the University of New Zealand and from endowments administered by the affiliated colleges, by Government (e.g., Departments of Education, Scientific and Industrial Research, and Agriculture), and by other organisations including industrial ones, while some of the 200 secondary schools (State and denominational) also have endowments for this purpose. Though I have not yet complete

records on which to discover the total capital sum involved in the annual production of these awards, what data I have bring the sum to close on £11,000,000, most of which is provided by the Department of Education; in reaching this figure the actual capital administered by the Universities has been made available, but for most of the rest the awards have been assessed as representing interest at 4% on the capital sum. Another aspect of interest would be to capitalise the voluntary subscriptions to the several cultural societies which would give some indication of the community effort in the interests of the advancement of knowledge; I have no data on this, but some idea of what that would be can be gained from those scientific and kindred societies alone as listed in Dr. Bastings's “Directory of New Zealand Science,” the total membership of most societies in that list being over 14,000. Of the cultural societies, The Royal Society of New Zealand was founded by Act of Parliament as the New Zealand Institute, in 1867.; its predecessor had been the New Zealand Society, which opened in 1851, just 11 years from the founding of the colony—a fact that clearly indicates the spirit pervading the early colonists. The position remained virtually unaltered for 66 years when, in 1933, by another Act, the New Zealand Institute was abolished and replaced by the Royal Society of New Zealand—largely just a change in title, but a purposeful one which leaves no doubt in the public mind concerning the Society as the national body for the furtherance of knowledge standing among the more specialised societies and institutes. The development of the Royal Society of New Zealand has had much in common with that of Edinburgh. The latter was originally founded, in the words of its constitution, for the “cultivation of every branch of science, erudition and taste”. This purpose was also written into the constitution of the New Zealand Institute, but with a greater generosity in words, to wit. “for the cultivation of the various branches and departments of art, science, literature and philosophy”. At first, the Edinburgh Transactions contained contributions on physical and literary subjects, but the latter decreased in time until the dominating tone became scientific; and this has been the case with the New Zealand Transactions, but to a greater extent in that now most of the contributions are on the natural sciences, although the journal remains open for works on other subjects. In their Presidents, the two societies have in common that the first, of both was titular—the Duke of Buleuch in Edinburgh, and Sir George Bowen in New Zealand; also both have had only one littérateur in the chair—Sir Walter Scott on the one hand, and Sir George Bowen on the other Again, both turn to Government for aid; both grant awards though the New Zealand ones are small and restricted, while those of Edinburgh are more numerous and generous. Otherwise the two societies differ. The Edinburgh Society consists solely of Fellows, as does the Royal Society of London, and is managed by a Council of them. In New Zealand there is no such Council, but one comprised of both Fellows and Members on an equal footing, the Society, itself, being what Professor W. P. Evans called a confederation of autonomous societies—the Member Bodies in different centres—each with its own President and Council, whose representatives are elected to the Council Also, the membership of the Member Bodies is by no means restricted to scientists but includes laymen as

well, who meet each month to exchange knowledge and present papers on subjects not necessarily scientific, and very often the Presidents of Member Bodies are not scientists. The Royal Society of New Zealand has never been an affluent one; the haunting spectre of poverty has ever been at hand—that is, financially; yet it possesses great wealth if measured by its tenacity of purpose—that is in the publication of its Transactions (apart from anything else) for the recording of knowledge. In spite of the many difficult periods that still persist in besetting the Society, even in the present time of apparent economic affuence, this journal has been continuously maintained each year from the first volume, in 1868, except for 1912, 1922 and 1925. Fluctuations in the stability of the Society have been due to varied influences which seem to converge on finance. To arrive at some conclusion on this matter (however tentative) I have endeavoured to find some of the influences by preparing a graph; the factors taken are population and membership, together with the annual expendable income, including Government grants, in relation to economic recessions, from 1868 to 1954. Population has risen steadily, but its only direct influence is as a source of membership; the membership, in relation to population during the eighties, was proportionately much greater than it is in relation to the population to-day. In part, this could be due to there having been fewer cultural societies then than now, when so many interested people are distributed through other organisations, perhaps, also, a change in custom is a factor due to the many other means for satisfying different tastes, or perhaps to some extent due to the trend toward specialisation. Though expendable income is influenced by membership, the marked fluctuations, after 1910, clearly vary in direct ratio with those of Government grants. Between 1899 and 1910, the income shows variable increases though the Government grant remained stable, and the membership depressed; this was caused by such factors as increased sales of publications, to balances carried forward, and to the transfer of funds from the deposit to the general account. It seems that, though the major economic recession of the 'nineties did not influence the Government grant, later recessions apparently had a marked reaction. In the fluctuations of membership, there are three major peaks from the first rise after the establishment of the Society in 1868; and it is to be noted that the two troughs coincide with the two major economic recessions. The influence of minor recessions is not fully revealed by the total membership; many of those recessions were localized, having no apparent effect on the country as a whole, so that their influence is revealed only when the membership of the affiliated societies is plotted. A seemingly apparent conclusion is that the prosperity of the country is at least one basic factor reflecting on the welfare of the Society; and just as long as the Society possesses no adequate resources of its own to tide over difficult times, and to afford it the means of fully carrying out its duties, so it must remain unstable and at the mercy of economic fluctuations and other extraneous influences. At no time in the history of the Society has the Government grant been so liberal as at present; but, even so, this is taken up by the increased cost of publishing the Transactions and the greater volume of contributed papers, so that, together with increases in administration, careful handling of expenditure

is demanded. Thought is being given to a proposal by which the Member Bodies might be able to increase their financial support to the Society's funds, but that, in itself, would not resolve the problem. However, another approach suggesting itself by which the Society could eventually attain a sound financial basis (together with Government aid), but one that would take time to bear fruit, is to keep the Society and its purpose in the community constantly before the public with the object of securing endowments from time to time. New Zealand is a wealthy country, and there should be no reason to doubt that such support, if sought, would be forthcoming, as has been the case with the Universities and secondary schools in New Zealand, and with Societies similar to this one in other enlightened lands. There is a feeling abroad in New Zealand that the Royal Society is a purely scientific institution, and so from the public viewpoint could be regarded as something outside the orbit of the community as a whole—something to be left to an isolated section having nothing of interest to anyone else, or to be left to those Government Departments that provide so much for science. But if we examine the position, it is clear that the Society is constituted to cover a much wider field. In the title of the 1933 Act it is stated that the Royal Society of New Zealand was constituted for the promotion of Science, though the term “science” is not defined, it is clear from the body of the Act that the restricted meaning is indicated in relation to part of the Society's functions; e.g., regarding the Fellowship, the Act states that any person is eligible “who has rendered eminent services to Science”, while the rules governing the election of Fellows lay down that the selection committee be of Fellows of recognised scientific attainment in various branches of Science for the purpose of considering the scientific attainments of candidates. Further, anyone who has rendered eminent service to Science is eligible for the Honorary Membership. Also there is now provision made for national scientific societies to become affiliated. As to other aspects of culture, the rules relating to the admission of Member Bodies state that “no scientific body shall be admitted to the Society unless it subscribes not less than δ25 annually toward the promotion of those branches of science and art approved by the Society for the advancement of which the proposed member body was formed”—thus “science” is used there in its wider interpretation. Also each member body “shall be entitled to retain or alter its own constitution and by-laws for its management and shall conduct its own affairs” Further, it is stated concerning communications for publication that: “All papers read, whether fully or by title only, before any member body of the Society, shall be deemed to be communications to the Society and may subsequently be published as Proceedings or Transactions of the Society”. By such very liberal rules, therefore, it is not surprising to find that a wide range of subjects is discussed, of papers read and addresses delivered before Member Bodies. Indeed, though scientific contributions may be the dominant ones, the constitutions of the Member Bodies have not diverged to any extent (as far as I can gather) from the original constitution of the New Zealand Institute in 1868, the purpose of these bodies being for the cultivation of art, science, literature, and industry. Furthermore, considering the membership of the Member Bodies, which is the membership of the Royal Society itself, we

find that, being open to everybody, it is drawn from all sections of the community; herein is a basic difference between the New Zealand Society and the Royal Societies of Edinburgh and London. It would be of interest to have data on the callings of all members of the New Zealand Royal Society to ascertain the actual balance between the scientific and non-scientific. This thought was partly inspired by the surprising fact that, from an analysis of the list of people given by Dr. Bastings in his Directory of New Zealand Science (1954), only 320, or 20%, of the 1,600 names listed are members of the Royal Society, and many belong to no society; if there should be any significance in this (in the absence of other data), and remembering that the Royal Society membership approximates 2,000, it could indicate that if the Society were to be purely scientific it would just fade out. In the present circumstances of New Zealand's cultural needs therefore, it seems that the Society, in order to exist, must retain the means of securing and holding wider public attention by cultivating in the broad field of its Member Bodies To this end the Council could also consider implementing the regulation in the Act concerning the holding of general meetings and lectures, by sponsoring the custom of Memorial Lectures with an appeal particularly to public taste, what I have in mind is to commemorate distinguished people in that way rather than by limiting ourselves solely to raising funds for the purpose—an effort that is so often so poorly supported as to be hardly worthwhile. Again, and at the risk of being branded a heretic, I would suggest that the Royal Society, on the basis of its liberal constitution, could well enhance its status by striking a gold medal, as an honour at least as rare as the Honorary Degree of Doctor of Science, to be awarded for outstanding attainments in the liberal arts. In conclusion, the widespread and varied nature of our institutions and societies indicates the breadth of New Zealand's cultural interests, influenced, as they are, by the country's own characteristic features and needs, as well as by extraneous factors So, on this basis, a determination can be reached on what appears to be the Royal Society's place in the community. It is that, while the specialized societies take care of the restricted fields, there remains a need for an organisation to foster knowledge as a whole—and for this the Royal Society is basically constituted. Therefore, by drawing to its membership, as it does, both lay and professional people from all sections of the community, this Society stands forth from among its many kindred organisations as the national institution to encourage the cultivation and spread of knowledge in general according to Sir Thomas Browne's counsel, to wit “Fly not on the wings of Imagination, join Sense unto Reason, and Experiment unto Speculation, and so give Life unto Embryon Truths and Verities yet in their Chaos.”