The Institute: Frontier of Learning

Just inside the front door of Fuld Hall at the Institute of Advanced Study the switchboard was humming busily. "Professor Street from Harvard," the operator said. "He wants to talk to Doctor Yang.'

In the office of J. Robert Oppenheimer '26, director of the Institute, a secretary replied to a question concerning the unusual bustle of activity in the building. "Yes, isn't it wonderful? Yang and Lee won the Nobel Prize. Haven't you seen the front page picture in the Herald Trib?"

Chen Ning Yang, professor in the School of Mathematics at the Institute, and Tsung Dao Lee, a Columbia professor studying on leave of absence at the Institute, had won the highest award in Physics for their achievement in the area of elementary particles. They had shown that nature can distinguish between her right and left hand and thus had shattered one of the foundations of physical sciences.

But to the Institute members, the fact of achievement and prize-winning is nothing very far out of the ordinary. In the amazing School of Mathematics, Yang and Lee are only two of a host of hyper-brilliant physicists and mathematicians who read like a "Who's Who in Physics and Mathematics."' On its professional staff in recent years have been Armond Bore Albert Einstein, Kurt Godel, Deane Montgomery, Marston Morse, Oppenheimer, Abraham Pais, Oswald Veblen, John von Neuman, Bengt Stromgren, Hassler Whitney, Herman Weyl, and Yang.

Members of the schools of Mathematics have been such men as Niels Bohr, Res Jost, Jean Leray, Lee, and Wolfgang Pauli.

Teacher and Student

On the little island of higher mathematics and particle physics these men form a school without peer in the entire world. They have written a large part of the history of modern mathematical and physical thought.

The new devlopment by Yang and Lee is only the most recent in a seemingly inexhaustible string of ideas to issue from the Institute, and yet there could be no incident to better illustrate the fundamental nature of the Institute for Advanced Study than this one. Yang and Lee are young men working at the very fronties of one of the most complex areas of study. In the jargon of modern education, Yang is the "teacher," while Lee is the "student," and yet it was the combined work of these two men which won the Prize. This, in brief, is the essence on the Institute.

This small and utterly unique school, located on the outskirts of Princeton, New Jersey, resembles more closely a clubhouse or perhaps a country school than it does the most high-level institution of learning in the world. In this respect, it blends very well into the general land scape of the area which is, of course, dominated by that vast, educational country club, Princeton University.

In most ways, this country atmosphere is ideal. The main purpose of the Institute is to give to the world's most advanced scholars a place where they can find the peace and quiet necessary to the development and fruition of their scholarly researchers, and there could scarcely be a more suitable location for such peace and quiet than in the lovely, southern New Jersey countryside.

In still another aspect, the country location symbolizes the withdrawal of the tiny community of scholars from the rest of the world. There are only two schools at the Institute, the School of Mathematics and the School of Historical Studies. In these two fields, there is practically no need of contact with society. If something is lacking here, the Institute trys to bring it into the academic community rather than to go out and meet it on neutral ground. The subject matter with which the Institute works is tightly confined by the strict disciplines of mathematical analysis and the historical method.

At the Institute the only tools a scholar needs are his pencil and paper, a quiet place of study, and the opportunity to exchange ideas with men who are at a similar level of scholarship. The emphasis is different depending on the individual member. For some, the Institute affords a few years' freedom from the tedious requirements of class schedules, of conferences for students, and of faculty meetings. For others, the Institute is a place where the young, post-doctoral student may further his knowledge through association with the professors and fellow members of the academic community.

There is, obviously, no formal "program of education." The seminars generally arise from the interests of a group of members. Some seminars, especially in the School of Mathematics, meet each week to discuss what is, in the words of Oppenheimer, "new and difficult in the field." Other seminars discuss "older material, material which may range back one or two years." At the present time, astrophysicist Bengt Stromgren, newly arrived at the Institute, is giving a series of lecture-seminars on his special field of interest.

Any intellectually competent person with an interest in the subject can attend these lctures. Graduate students and professors from Princeton University often attend and, indeed are welcomed by the Institute. It is obvious, therefore, that the Institute's greatness and unique opportunity for learning is carried out to a far greater extent in the individual thinking of the members and their spontaneous intercommunication of ideas, often over the dinner table or in the office, with another member or members.

The work of Yang and Lee is a perfect example of this type of learning. Their work was largely a product of individual thought and research which was, nevertheless, strongly influenced by talks with other members and professors. The result was a new theory which sheds much light on the fundamental nature of the physical universe, and yet the total result, at least symbolically, is more than that. A new theory was born, but in the process the entire community shared in the function of learning, as indeed it does at all times.

As Oppenheimer writes in a recent director's report, "The Institute, in short, is devoted to learning, in the double sense of the continued education of the individual, and of the intellectual enterprise on which he is embarked."

Despite the excellence of the Institute, it is clear that it is in no sense of the word a university. It teaches neither Greek nor Latin. There is no English department, no chemistry laboratories and no astronomical observatory. There are only the School of Mathematics and the School of Historical Studies; the Institute does not pretend to a complete coverage of all, or even a few, fields of learning.

The obvious question is, "Why did the Institute come to center around mathematics and history?" The answer lies partially in the letter addressed by the Founders, Louis Bemberger and Mrs.. Felix Fuld, to the first Board of Trustees which said, in part, "... The primary purpose of the pursuit of advanced learning and exploration in fields of pure science and high scholarship to the utmost degree that the facilities of the institution and the ability of the faculty and students permit."

The endowment of the school is only about 18 million dollars, and therefore it would be quite impossible to maintain an institution which attained adequacy or excellence in a large number of subjects. To determine what subjects the Institute should, therefore, undertake, the meaning of "advanced" must be considered.

In a recent report, a committee states that "what makes study advanced is not only the native talent and originality of the investigator, but the fact that he must have learned a great deal in order to conduct it. This knowledge, this learning, will have taken a long time to acquire, perhaps much of a lifetime."

Modern mathematics and the study of history, among others, certainly fall into this category, but other considerations were necessary to finally determine the choice of these two disciplines. One such consideration was the fact that the Institution, in the field of mathematics and in specialized areas of historical studies, could attain a certain preeminence with a relatively small staff.

Certainly this has been done in mathematics. Modern mathematics is highly complex, extremely difficult and abstract. Also, as an Institute report says, "It is self-contained, self-sustaining, and almost self-generative." A small body of professors, combined with a relatively small group of students, or members, can create a community of mutual discussion and consultation in which the entire field comes under surveillance. The Institute claims with almost complete justification, "A mathematician may come to the Institute and be quite confident that he can find out anything really important in current work in the field."

In special areas, the School of Historical Studies may make a similar claim. Although it is not so large as its mathematics counterpart, its faculty is equally distinguished. Such men as Sir Llewellyn Woodward, Homer Thompson, Kennan, and Ernst Kantorowicz make the School one of the finest in the country. The School of Mathematics is larger by about 75 members to 25 members partly because there are more funds available for mathematical study than for historical work and partly because the em- inence of the early mathematical faculty, which included the late Albert Einstein, gave the Institute a brilliant reputation in that area.

The final consideration involved in the choice of fields centers around the opportunity which the small, isolated institute community can provide a scholar. The advantages which the mathematician and the theoretical physicist can derive from informal consultation and reflective study are manifold. The historian's need for this same community of scholarship, although not so great as that of the mathematician, is nevertheless considerable. Also, the fact that foundations and governments are rather reluctant to spend much money on historical projects made the initial Board of Trustees feel that the Institute might do a great service by making some of its endowment available to these "advanced" scholars.

In recent history of the Institute there are two striking examples of this educational theory in practice. The first is the Institute's abandoning the Electronic Computer Project. This project was begun in 1946 by John van Neumann as an attempt to give the mathematician and physicist a high speed computer. At first the task was novel and presented many high-level problems which only a mathematician and physicist of van Neumann's maturity and brilliance could cope with. In 1952, the machine was completed, and applied physicists in various companies began to improve upon the original until the Institute decided that it was no longer part of its purpose to maintain the old machine as merely a laboratory instrument. Thus, in the summer of this year, the computer was turned over to Princeton University. It had ceased to be an object of "advanced study."

School of Historical Studies

Another example of the theory of education is furnished by the combination in 1949 of the School of Humanistic Studies and the School of Economics and Politics into the School of Historical Studies. The Institute felt that the study of economics and politics was not ideally suited to the approach to learning which the Institute should take. The Institute has only limited facilities for statistical analysis and is some-what divorced by both location and philosophy from current affairs. In such an atmosphere the systematic study of economics and politics seemed somewhat out of place.

In the belief that "the unifying and invigorating element of work in history and the humanities must be the conscious and scrupulous use of the historical method" the School of Historical Studies was formed. Inside this School the subjects range from Greek archeology--where the Institute enjoys a reputation comparable to that of the School of Mathematics--to modern political history. In between, the Institute admits that there are many "bizarre lacunae," but nevertheless, the historical method provides both a unifying basis and a criterion for possible expansion in coming years if finances permit it.

But by and large, however, the community is a closed one. Members are carefully chosen on the basis of their work and are given funds with which they can spend a year at the Institute. With the new community of modernistic, utilitarian houses which have been recently completed and lie within a short walk of the Institute and its few seminars and office buildings, almost all members may live on the school's location.

An Intellectual Oasis

The community is an abnormal one both in ability and interests and its physical isolation is quite in keeping with its intellectual isolation, although its intellectual remoteness would be much greater if Princeton University were not in the area. The Institute has no formal tie with the University, it manages to be part of the University community through allowing Princeton students and faculty to attend seminars at the Institute and enjoying a similar privilege at Princeton.

Essentially, though, the Institute for Advanced Study is alone in its position of educational granduer. It is a community where the member teaches the professor as well as where the professor teaches the member. It is interested only in the most advanced and difficult areas of learning. It has no laboratories and formal courses.

Youth and Experience

Formed by a financial grant with rather unusual terms, the Institute is not likely to be duplicated again. The students are mostly vigorous young men between the ages of 25 and 35 or else older men whose breadth of knowledge and experience makes them invaluable in an intellectual community.

The Institute will probably not expand much over the coming years. It will, however, in all probability, continue for many years to supply the world--more than half the members come from outside the United States--with many of the new theories of mathematics, physics and history.

In an age of General Education and shallow understanding the Institute for Advanced Study provides a refreshingly restricted and wise venture into the vast field of learning. Its astonishing success speaks well for thorough, understanding and advanced scholarship.J. ROBERT OPPENHEIMER '26