Leesfragment: Lost Enlightenment

2 juni 2015 verscheen S. Frederick Starrs Lost Enlightenment. Wij brengen een fragment. 

'Are there other solar systems out there among the stars, they asked, or are we alone in the universe? Six hundred years later, Giordano Bruno (1548–1600) was burned at the stake for championing the plurality of worlds (the actual charge was pantheism), but to these two men it seemed clear that we are not alone; unique, probably, but not alone.'

In this sweeping and richly illustrated history, S. Frederick Starr tells the fascinating but largely unknown story of Central Asia's medieval enlightenment through the eventful lives and astonishing accomplishments of its greatest minds--remarkable figures who built a bridge to the modern world. Because nearly all of these figures wrote in Arabic, they were long assumed to have been Arabs. In fact, they were from Central Asia--drawn from the Persianate and Turkic peoples of a region that today extends from Kazakhstan southward through Afghanistan, and from the easternmost province of Iran through Xinjiang, China.

Lost Enlightenment recounts how, between the years 800 and 1200, Central Asia led the world in trade and economic development, the size and sophistication of its cities, the refinement of its arts, and, above all, in the advancement of knowledge in many fields. Central Asians achieved signal breakthroughs in astronomy, mathematics, geology, medicine, chemistry, music, social science, philosophy, and theology, among other subjects. They gave algebra its name, calculated the earth's diameter with unprecedented precision, wrote the books that later defined European medicine, and penned some of the world's greatest poetry. One scholar, working in Afghanistan, even predicted the existence of North and South America--five centuries before Columbus. Rarely in history has a more impressive group of polymaths appeared at one place and time. No wonder that their writings influenced European culture from the time of St. Thomas Aquinas down to the scientific revolution, and had a similarly deep impact in India and much of Asia.

 Lost Enlightenment chronicles this forgotten age of achievement, seeks to explain its rise, and explores the competing theories about the cause of its eventual demise. Informed by the latest scholarship yet written in a lively and accessible style, this is a book that will surprise general readers and specialists alike.

S. Frederick Starr is founding chairman of the Central Asia-Caucasus Institute & Silk Road Studies Program, a research and policy center affiliated with the Johns Hopkins School of Advanced International Studies and the Institute for Security and Development Policy in Stockholm. A past president of Oberlin College and the Aspen Institute, he began his career in classical archaeology, excavating at Gordium in modern Turkey and mapping the Persian Royal Road.

Chapter 1

The Center of the World

In the year 999 two young men living over 250 miles apart, in present-day Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan, entered into a correspondence. They could have sent their messages by pigeon, as was often done then, but the letters were all too long and hence too heavy. The exchange opened when the older of the two—he was twenty-eight— sent his eighteen-year-old acquaintance a list of questions on diverse subjects pertaining to science and philosophy. Nearly all his questions still resonate strongly today. This opened a round of verbal jousting that, through at least four long messages on each side, reads like a scholarly feud waged today on the Internet.
Are there other solar systems out there among the stars, they asked, or are we alone in the universe? Six hundred years later, Giordano Bruno (1548–1600) was burned at the stake for championing the plurality of worlds (the actual charge was pantheism), but to these two men it seemed clear that we are not alone; unique, probably, but not alone. They also asked if the earth had been created whole and complete, or if it had evolved over time. Here they accepted the notion of Creation but emphatically agreed that the earth had undergone profound changes since then. This blunt affirmation of geological evolution was as heretical to the Muslim faith they both professed as it would have been to medieval Christianity. This bothered one of the two young scientists but not the other, so the first—Ibn Sina—hastened to add an intricate corrective that would be more theologically acceptable. But at bottom both anticipated evolutionary geology and even key points of Darwinism by eight centuries.
Few exchanges in the history of science have leaped so boldly into the future as this one, which occurred a thousand years ago in a region now often dismissed as a backwater and valued mainly for its natural resources, not its intellectual achievements. We know of it because copies survived in manuscript and were published almost a millennium later. Twenty-eight-year-old Abu Rayhan al-Biruni, or simply Biruni (973–1048), hailed from near the Aral Sea and went on to distinguish himself in geography, mathematics, trigonometry, comparative religion, astronomy, physics, geology, psychology, mineralogy, and pharmacology. His younger counterpart, Abu Ali al-Husayn ibn Sina, or just Ibn Sina (ca. 980–1037), grew up in the stately city of Bukhara, the great seat of learning in what is now Uzbekistan. He was to make his mark in medicine, philosophy, physics, chemistry, astronomy, theology, clinical pharmacology, physiology, ethics, and music theory. When eventually Ibn Sina’s magisterial Canon of Medicine was translated into Latin, it triggered the start of modern medicine in the West and became its Bible: a dozen editions were printed before 1500. Indians used Ibn Sina’s Canon to develop a whole school of medicine that continues today. Many regard Biruni and Ibn Sina together as the greatest scientific minds between antiquity and the Renaissance, if not the modern age.
In due course it will be necessary to return to this correspondence, which left a residue of bad blood between the two giants. But one detail concerning it warrants particular note. At one point Ibn Sina threateningly reported that he would check Biruni’s claims with authorities elsewhere to see if they concurred or not. This was a pathbreaking acknowledgment of the existence of separate fields of knowledge, each with its own body of expertise, and that he, as a philosopher and medical expert, was not necessarily qualified to pass judgment on every field. No less important, he was demanding what today we would call peer review—a clear sign of the existence of a large, competent, and interconnected community of scientists and thinkers. Ibn Sina and Biruni were by no means alone in their scientific passions. Both had honed their skills at intellectual jousting with learned colleagues. This imparted a direct and feisty tone to their exchange, which was festooned with frequent charges like “How dare you . . . ?” But neither side stooped to appeal to authority. Evidence, not authority, is what counted.
It was precisely the authority of one writer, Aristotle, that was most at issue throughout the debate. Syrian Christians in Baghdad had only recently translated his On the Heavens into Arabic. Both correspondents had read the translation and were now arguing over whether the observable evidence proved or challenged its claims. It fell to Biruni to point out the discrepancies between Aristotle’s observations and his own. Far from brushing these concerns aside, Ibn Sina tried to account for them within the framework of Aristotelian theory, even as he showed himself open to questioning it. Both Biruni and Ibn Sina were, in fact, engaged in the very essence of scientific discovery. As Thomas Kuhn pointed out in his magisterial analysis The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, scientific breakthroughs are rarely, if ever, a matter of “Eureka!” moments. Rather, Kuhn explained, science is a cumulative process, in which discrepancies between observed reality and accepted theory (what he famously called the “paradigm”) slowly pile up. Breakthroughs occur when the accumulation of such discrepancies or “anomalies” leads to the development of a new theory or paradigm. Under the new paradigm, what had formerly been considered anomalous becomes what is expected. Ibn Sina and Biruni were identifying, sifting, and testing anomalies. Their efforts, and those of scores of their colleagues in Central Asia, led directly to the great breakthroughs that occurred much later, and they were an essential part of the process that created those breakthroughs. Medieval Central Asians produced more than a few genuine breakthroughs of their own. But in looking for achievements by these scientists and scholars, we should be equally attuned to this science-making process, at which they were masters, and not just to their “Eureka!” moments.
What is most astonishing about our correspondents is that they were but two—admittedly a very distinguished two—of a pleiad of great scientists and thinkers who worked in the region a millennium ago. Many other instances of learned exchanges involving Central Asians could be cited. Some were friendly and even fraternal: collaborative research was by no means unknown, especially in astronomy and geography, where teams of a dozen or more investigators were assembled. Some collaborations lasted a lifetime. Others were filled with abuse and nasty ad hominem attacks. But whatever the tone, across Central Asia there existed hundreds of learned people who delighted in disputations such as that between Ibn Sina and Biruni, and who expected them to be resolved, so far as possible, on the basis of reason.
This phalanx of scientists and thinkers did not work in a vacuum. Philosophers and religious scholars fleshed out the implications of the latest ideas, sometimes cheering on the innovators and at other times digging in their heels against them. Rigorous and demanding, these learned men continually asked not only what could be known through reason but also what could not. It was an intellectual and philosophical free-for-all. Adding yet more yeast to the environment was a bevy of talented poets, musicians, and artists, who were creating immortal works at the same time and in the same places. No less than the scientists and scholars, these creative folk left masterpieces that are still revered and admired today.
This was truly an Age of Enlightenment, several centuries of cultural flowering during which Central Asia was the intellectual hub of the world. India, China, the Middle East, and Europe all boasted rich traditions in the realm of ideas, but during the four or five centuries around ad 1000 it was Central Asia, the one world region that touched all these other centers, that surged to the fore. It bridged time as well as geography, in the process becoming the great link between antiquity and the modern world. To a far greater extent than today’s Europeans, Chinese, Indians, or Middle Easterners realize, they are all the heirs of the remarkable cultural and intellectual effervescence in Central Asia that peaked in the era of Ibn Sina and Biruni.

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