Which Way Is Up? George Sarton’s ‘East and West’ and the Post-Truth Crisis
Note:
Beezone is drawn to the work of George Sarton not just for his scholarship, but for his ability to bring the wisdom of the East back into Western discussions. In much of Western academic and civil discourse, that deeper Eastern influence has been missing—largely absent since the time of Alexander the Great’s halt at the Indus River. Sarton restores a broader perspective, not as a rejection of the West, but as a reminder that our knowledge and culture have always been formed in dialogue. His work opens the possibility of rebalancing that conversation—not by erasing difference, but by remembering a wider inheritance.
Preface: A Moment of Doubt and Insight (from George Sarton, early 20th century)
A few weeks ago, I had gone up from Florence to Fiesole. It was not a beautiful day. The weather was cold and dull, and I found myself in a melancholy and hesitating mood. Any man engaged in a long and arduous undertaking can but ask himself now and then: “Is it worthwhile?”
That is what I could not help asking myself on that grey afternoon: Was it really worthwhile? Was I on the right way? Why interrogate the past? Why not let bygones be bygones? There was so much to do to go forward or simply to exist, so many practical problems the solution of which called for immediate action. Instead of taking infinite pains to unravel an irrevocable past, was it not wiser to raise crops and live stock, to bake bread, to build roads, to minister to the poor and suffering? Was I not like an idle man in a very busy world? In each of those homes yonder on the hills and in the valley, there lived people who took up one urgent task after the other; they had hardly time to think or to dream; they were swept away by the needs of life.
Then I looked around me and for a while I forgot my own perplexity. I had at last reached the top of the sacred hill. Remains of ancient walls reminded one of the old Etruscan culture. Nearby other ruins spoke of Roman power and refinement. Thus had civilization steadily grown for more than a thousand years before being brutally interrupted by the southward migrations of younger peoples. Soon after however, fresh endeavors had been made; a new spiritual life had begun and finally the mediaeval ideals had been adequately accomplished in this Franciscan monastery, a magnificent assertion of virtue and charity against triumphant barbarity. And lo, yonder in the valley,—Florence! Millions of little voices reached my ears. Every stone of Florence told a story. The whole Italian Renaissance was parading before me. Here in Fiesole and there in Florence, twenty-five centuries of almost uninterrupted civilization had accumulated reminiscences and glories. During this long period, men had labored, suffered, tried in many ways to draw a little nearer to the truth, to understand the wonderful world in which they were living, to add here and there a little touch of beauty . . . They had lived and passed away—one hundred and fifty generations of them or more—and nothing remained of them, not even their homes, nothing but the monuments of beauty and virtue, nothing but the amount of truth, of beauty, of justice which they had conquered,—pure gold, eternal joy extracted from the chaos. The rest was dead forever. – George Sarton, 1909?
In the fall of 1930, amidst the lingering dust of the First World War and the early signs of rising global unrest, historian of science George Sarton delivered a series of lectures at Brown University as part of the Colver Lecture series. A central figure in the formation of the modern field of the history of science, Sarton founded the journal Isis and helped to shape a discipline that treated science as a cultural and intellectual tradition, rather than simply a technical achievement. His second lecture in the series, titled “East and West,” explores the development of science across civilizations, offering a reflection on how knowledge has been shared, translated, and transformed across time and geography.
Nearly a century later, Sarton’s lecture has something to say to our current condition. In a time when public conversation struggles to define truth, when science is contested or reframed through social and political filters, and when historical understanding is often set aside for fast-moving headlines, Sarton’s approach offers a way of thinking that is both wider and steadier. His lecture does not seek to settle debates, but rather to suggest that our questions today are not new, and that their roots are often found in the longer history of human inquiry.
History as Insight, Not Just Record
For Sarton, history was not simply the accumulation of facts. It was a way of learning—a method of gaining perspective through the study of how others have asked and explored similar questions. In “East and West,” he emphasizes that science did not emerge in isolation, nor from any one civilization. Rather, it has always been a cumulative process, carried forward by many cultures. Babylonian, Egyptian, Indian, Chinese, Greek, and Islamic thinkers all contributed in ways that were often forgotten or overlooked.
This historical awareness, Sarton suggests, is essential not just for understanding science, but for understanding ourselves. Today, public discourse often treats history as a backdrop to current events or as a set of cultural symbols to defend or critique. But for Sarton, history is neither an ornament nor a burden. It is a discipline that trains us to see beyond our moment and to recognize how current ideas grow out of older questions.
Sarton does not write in opposition to the West, but he does question the assumption that the West is the sole or final source of scientific reason. In his lecture, he points to the long chain of knowledge transfer—from East to West and back again—as evidence that science is not owned by any one people. He critiques the tendency to see Western civilization as a self-contained achievement, and instead argues for a view of science as a shared human effort.
This is not simply a call for recognition. It is also a call for humility. When science is framed as a Western invention, it becomes easier to isolate it from the broader human experience. This can lead to pride on one side and rejection on the other. Sarton’s approach invites a different stance: one in which knowledge is seen as a common heritage, and in which learning from others is understood as necessary, not optional.
The Limits of Science Without Moral Direction
Sarton’s support for science was clear, but he was also aware of its limitations. In “East and West,” he acknowledges that science does not guide itself ethically. Its methods are designed to produce reliable knowledge, but not to decide how that knowledge should be used. For that, science depends on the values and judgments of the societies that apply it.
This separation becomes important in times when science is caught up in political or economic forces. Today, technologies are developed and used in ways that can outpace public understanding or ethical reflection. From environmental issues to digital surveillance, the application of scientific knowledge often raises questions that science alone cannot answer. Sarton’s recognition of this gap encourages a broader discussion: not to limit science, but to place it within a context that includes historical awareness and ethical responsibility.
Sarton’s lecture also emphasizes the need for study—not just exposure to information, but a deeper kind of engagement with the past. He does not call for a return to earlier times or systems of belief. Rather, he encourages a form of learning that involves attention, patience, and the willingness to follow the long thread of human thought.
In contrast to the rapid pace of modern media, with its short formats and reactive cycles, Sarton’s view of history invites a slower approach. It asks for sustained reflection and an interest in how ideas evolve. This kind of memory is not about clinging to tradition, but about understanding where we are by knowing how we got here.
Without this historical discipline, public conversation becomes unstable. Arguments lack grounding. Ideas are repeated without context. Sarton’s method provides a way to steady the conversation—not by telling people what to think, but by reminding them that others have been thinking, and recording, and passing things on for a long time.
Which Way Is Up? Reorienting Through History
Today, it can feel as if we have lost direction. The phrase “post-truth” points to a deeper confusion about how we know what we know, and whom to trust. In such a climate, it is tempting to retreat into certainty or suspicion. Sarton’s work suggests another option: to step back and consider the longer view.
His lecture does not resolve current debates, but it shows that the human effort to understand the world has always been complex, and that it has always required contributions from many sources. By grounding science in history—and history in a shared human search for understanding—Sarton offers a way to move forward that does not depend on novelty or reaction, but on memory, cooperation, and inquiry.
Selected Publications by George Sarton:
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Introduction to the History of Science (1927–47, 3 vols.)
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The Study of the History of Mathematics (1936)
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The Study of the History of Science (1936)
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The Life of Science: Essays in the History of Civilization (1948)
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A Guide to the History of Science (1952)
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Galen of Pergamon (1954)
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Appreciation of Ancient and Medieval Science during the Renaissance (1955)
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Six Wings: Men of Science in the Renaissance (1957)
East and West
Read Section II – Flip-book below
THE HISTORY OF SCIENCE AND THE NEW HUMANISM
by George Sarton
Lecture II: EAST AND WEST
When one speaks of the history of science, most people think of experimental and mathematical knowledge as we know it now, with its vast applications. They think of “modern science,” which barely began before the seventeenth century. This is understandable, but to view only this part of the story is to misunderstand the full evolution. It is like knowing a man only in his maturity, unaware that this maturity was made possible by long years of childhood and adolescence.
A biography that begins when its subject is already married and working would be incomplete. Similarly, a history of science that begins only in the sixteenth or seventeenth century is not only incomplete but fundamentally misleading. Mankind’s early scientific achievements cannot be imagined the way we might imagine a person’s youth. They must be studied, because the history of science is the history of human development.
Modern scientists, often lacking a cultural or historical background, may not appreciate the value of looking backward. They assume that most significant discoveries happened in recent centuries. But those results were only possible because of all that came before. The most complex and valuable results of the present may have replaced earlier insights, but they too will be replaced in time. One of the primary functions of the history of science is to correct the conceit of modern times and give us a humbler, more accurate sense of our place in the long arc of human evolution.
The practical and philosophical value of studying the ancient past lies in the clarity it gives to the meaning of scientific progress. Ancient science developed over millennia, full of interruptions, setbacks, and rediscoveries. Unlike today’s steady flow of discoveries, past science was erratic. Breakthroughs were like rare nuggets stumbled upon. Today’s science, by contrast, is more like the methodical extraction of a gold mine.
Scientific development was far more chaotic in the past. To perceive its general direction, one must take a long view and disregard many detours. We are now distant enough from ancient and medieval science to see its steps clearly, true or false. The same cannot yet be said of modern science. We may think we can identify its most important developments, but history has shown contemporary judgments to be precarious. Scientific value often becomes clear only in hindsight, when its full consequences are known.
There are two main reasons for studying the history of science: a historical one—to analyze the development of civilization and understand humanity; and a philosophical one—to understand the deeper meaning of science itself. From either perspective, ancient and medieval science is as valuable as modern science.
If one were to choose a single period as the most important—though each era is indispensable—one might argue it is the earliest. Beginnings are the most difficult, the most critical. And yet we know so little about them. Who invented fire? Tools? Language? Writing? The wheel? These inventions made all others possible, yet their origins are lost to us. They likely emerged slowly over generations, shaped by collective effort and rare genius.
By 3000 BCE, this early development had reached maturity in Mesopotamia and Egypt, and likely in India and China. These cultures had writing systems, mathematical knowledge, astronomy, and medicine. Civilization began in the East. Ex oriente lux—”From the East, light.”
We tend to think of our civilization as Western, contrasting it with the East as if the two were forever divided. Kipling famously wrote, “East is East and West is West, and never the twain shall meet.” But this is false. Mankind is united by its fundamental purposes. East and West are like two moods of the same man.
Our earliest scientific knowledge is of Eastern origin. The Egyptians had a decimal system and recorded astronomical events. The Babylonians observed the stars and developed mathematical systems. Egyptian papyri, like the Rhind and Edwin Smith, show elaborate systems of mathematics and medicine dating centuries before the Greeks.
These achievements help explain the so-called miracle of Greek civilization. Greek science was built upon the knowledge of the East. Though the exact paths of transmission remain uncertain, we know that Egyptian and Mesopotamian science formed the foundations of Greek thought. For example, Asclepian healing rites mirrored Egyptian practices, and Babylonian astronomical records underpinned Greek astronomy.
And yet, despite its debts to the East, Greek science soared to unprecedented heights. The gap between early Egyptian writings and the work of Greek mathematicians like Hippocrates of Chios is vast. Greek science was methodical, rational, and philosophical in ways Eastern science was not. But we must remember: the Greeks had intellectual parents.
Alongside Greek rationalism, another development occurred in the East—among the Hebrews—where the moral unity of mankind was expressed in the idea of one God. This spiritual development was as important as the Greek intellectual one. Though initially separate, these two worldviews eventually merged at the end of antiquity, influencing Christian civilization.
The decline of Greek science came not from external conquest but from internal strife. Greek genius waned as political and moral wisdom failed. The Roman Empire absorbed Greek culture but did little to advance it scientifically. Christianity’s early attempts to merge Hebrew and Greek thought often failed due to misunderstanding.
In this intellectual vacuum, another wave of knowledge arose—from the Arabs. Islam, born in the 7th century, absorbed Persian culture and knowledge, and, under the Abbasid Caliphs, created a civilization that preserved and expanded Greek and Hindu science. Arabic became the language of scholarship, and Muslim scientists made significant advances in mathematics, astronomy, medicine, chemistry, and geography.
Through translations, Arabic scholars transmitted Greek science to the West. Syriac Christians helped build the bridges between the classical and Islamic worlds. Later, Christian scholars in Spain and Sicily translated Arabic works into Latin, rekindling scientific inquiry in Europe. This long arc—from East to West—created the intellectual groundwork for the Renaissance and modern science.
By the 12th century, Muslim culture had peaked. European scholars, awakened by contact with Arabic knowledge, began to absorb and build upon it. Translations flowed from Arabic to Latin, and eventually to Hebrew and back again. Knowledge moved in cycles: from Greek to Arabic to Latin and back to Greek.
The East’s contributions to science are undeniable. The West, however, took these contributions and—through the rise of the experimental method—ushered in modern science. This method, cautious, systematic, and precise, became the foundation of Western scientific progress.
Modern science has its limits. It cannot address questions of beauty, morality, or religion. And its power can be misused, as seen in war. Science needs to be tempered by wisdom, by ethics, by a sense of humanity. The scientist must not be arrogant or forgetful of his cultural debt to the East. As Sarton puts it, “The East was its mother, the West was its father.”
East and West must meet, not only in trade and politics, but in spirit. Science, beauty, and charity are universal. Let us remember with gratitude what we owe to the East, and let us approach the future with humility and open-heartedness, ever reaching for those untouchable realities that give life its nobility and direction