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Online Proceedings » A New Trivium and Quadrivium

2001 Sigma Xi Forum Online Proceedings

A New Trivium and Quadrivium
George Bugliarello, Chancellor, Polytechnic University, and former president of Sigma Xi

There can be little question that today there are tensions and conflicts among the humanities, the arts, science and engineering.1 There are also powerful confluences, such as those of art and engineering in architecture or of imaging technology and the arts. The conflicts have kept us from fully recognizing their dangerous implications, and the confluences are still too few. As Sarton put it, focusing on the conflicts between science and the humanities, “the most ominous conflict of our time is the difference of opinion, of outlook, between men of letters, historians, philosophers, the so-called humanists, on the one side, and scientists on the other. Today the gap cannot but increase because of the intolerance of both” (Sarton). For sure, tensions and conflicts in the realm of ideas are the fountainhead of new conceptions and an unquenchable manifestation of human freedom. But when they are based on prejudice or reciprocal ignorance, rather than on a clear understanding of the opposing positions, they put at risk the very survival of our species, now propelled at breakneck speed toward an unfathomable future by scientific and technological advances. The most recent manifestation of the conflicts are the current postmodernist “science wars” and the reaction they have engendered (Ross, Segerstråle, Koertge, Gross and Levitt).

It is simply too wasteful and risky for our future to perpetuate this status quo. We need to endeavor to understand the reasons for the conflicts and the opportunities for new confluences.

The conflicts’ reasons are complex, but significant among them is the influence that the medieval trivium and the quadrivium continue to exert. In the Middle Ages, in the rediscovered tradition from Greek and Roman times, the trivium and quadrivium embodied what an educated person was expected to know. In the trivium, grammar was a basic foundation, rhetoric encompassed literature and poetry, and logic was primarily Aristotelian. The quadrivium encompassed four subjects, all based on mathematical knowledge—arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music. Geometry had its origins in Egyptian and Greek thought, and arithmetic in Indian and Arab thought transmitted to the West. Astronomy dealt with movable objects that were deemed to be permanent and music with movable phenomena that were impermanent (its purpose was to understand polyphonic secular music).

The medieval trivium and quadrivium dealt with intellectual issues as distinguished from emotional or expressive ones like art or religion. Together they were called the liberal arts because in Roman times they were the arts deemed important to the formation of the free man. By the thirteenth century, their structure was fairly standardized, with the trivium the basic foundation of university education, and the quadrivium leading to a master’s degree that could be followed by specialized professional education, particularly in medicine, but also the law. The purpose of the medieval trivium and quadrivium was thus to elevate and prepare. In the Renaissance the focus shifted to erudition, with much greater secular—human—emphasis than in medieval times, with their pervasive theological context, hence the label humanities.

Today the subjects of the trivium, greatly expanded, remain a foundation of the humanities curricula. Of the quadrivium, arithmetic and geometry are embodied in math, an introduction to astronomy is one of the more popular science offerings in liberal arts education and the teaching of music expanded its scope, abandoning the mathematical focus it had in the quadrivium.

In the medieval period, the trivium and quadrivium excluded engineering and other areas of knowledge that came to be grouped, somewhat quixotically to our minds today, in the seven mechanical arts (once again, the medieval number seven): weaving, blacksmithing and navigation, war (“armatura”), agriculture, medicine and hunting, and the theatrical arts. Only for medicine or the law were the trivium and quadrivium a preparation. Not so for engineering, the arts and the other mechanical arts. Engineering arose in the earliest times out of utility and military necessity but in the eighteenth century became increasingly oriented toward civilian purposes. Only some one hundred and fifty years ago did engineering education, with a strong use of science, begin being housed in universities.

The often passionate conflicts we perceive today among the humanities, the sciences, engineering and the arts—that is, between and among the descendants of the medieval liberal arts and mechanical arts—arise not only out of their different origins, but also out of their different purposes and methods. These differences, in turn, are at the root of conflicts in the realm of values. Not to be overlooked as a source of conflicts are differences in social status, particularly in the United States, where the liberal arts and law are the predominant background embodied in elective government and Wall Street, while engineering, and to some extent the sciences, embrace far more the less advantaged and the immigrant. Differences in origins actually predate those stemming from the idea of the trivium and quadrivium that crystallized them. For instance, one could say that the task of engineering—the creation of functional artifacts—predates science, art and the humanities, since it is carried out, albeit instinctively, also by other, older species (suffice it to think of beehives or birds’ nests). Science has what we believe to be a religious origin. It became largely independent of religion in Greek and Roman times, then subservient to it in medieval times in Europe, and divorced from it in the conflicts of the Renaissance. As to art, we do not quite know what impulse led to the Lescaut or the Sahara cave paintings, but we know that for most of time its motivation was religious, from the Egyptian monuments and hieroglyphics to the Parthenon, Borabodur, the Sistine Chapel, or the artistic calligraphy of the Koran. The origins of the immense field we call the humanities, from philosophy to poetry to mythology, are as diverse as the field itself. Today, science—for sure in the West—remains divorced from religion, and the humanities have expanded into myriads of rivulets.

The purpose of the humanities is to understand and civilize man; that of science is to understand nature—a domain vaster than man, but that includes him. The arts complement the humanities by being the sensory inspirers of reflections and emotions. The goal of engineering is to extend through artifacts, that is, machines,2 the capabilities of our body and in order to do so to modify nature, e.g., the course of a river so that we can navigate it.

The methods of the humanities are based on literacy. Science is meta-literate and progresses through the strictures of verifiable truths that require precision and objectivity. It is a cumulative enterprise, built on previous discoveries and knowledge. Engineering is cumulative also and requires utility. So does that cognate modification of nature, medicine, guided in its purpose of healing by Hippocratic principles starting with the imperative of not harming the patient (akin to but more easily articulated than the engineering one of exercising “due care”). Art, after its long history of having been descriptive, or inspirational or reflective, has now become mainly reflective. Like engineering, it creates artifacts, but is no longer constrained by rules as it was in the Renaissance, in Classical Greece and in some other cultures. And it is not cumulative.

The Question of Culture
That there are these differences does not mean, however, that there are different cultures, as in the concept of two cultures (Snow). We live in a world in which we all use pills, cars, running water and computers, wear the same kind of clothes, eat more or less the same kind of food, and behave more or less in the same way. It is a world in which science and engineering have enormous influence on our language,3 thoughts and lives. Thus if we subscribe to a broad view of culture as embracing the total pattern of human behavior and its products, embodied in thoughts, speech, action and artifacts, it is obvious that we are all living under a common culture, albeit with different and very powerful subcultures, such as those of the humanities, the arts, science and engineering. (If any, the dichotomy is between life in the developed and in the poorer parts of the world.) But we are at great risk when, within this common culture, we indulge in internecine cultural warfare, rather than reasoned and knowledgeable dialogues.

A consequence of today’s cultural disarray are multiple crises. In the humanities, far more serious than a crisis in taste, which no one can agree on today how to define, is the loss of the ability to illuminate and guide society. That original intent of the liberal arts is defeated by the exclusion of science and of the modification of nature, even though they are a defining part of our culture. All society and civilization presupposes language, but a culture based only on literacy is not co-extensive with all human civilization (Plumb).

Multiple smoldering crises in science and engineering stemming from questions of purpose and social control have contributed to society’s ambivalent views of science and technology, manifest, e.g., in the controversies around sustainable development or genetic engineering. The question of science for science’s sake, or for social purposes is parallel to that of art for art’s sake, or for a purpose that transcends it. And in engineering, just as our own fist can be used for good or for bad, should machines be created regardless of consequences, even if they can be used to enhance our negative drives, as in the case of weapons, or should they be created only if they reinforce our ability to survive in a civilized way? The conflicts in science and engineering are heightened by dilemmas of independence versus power, or of an unfettered sense of duty versus the attraction of material rewards, and uncritical adherence to corporate discipline.

In the arts, the crises are epitomized by the polemics surrounding the new historicism—an art for art’s sake attempting to aestheticize the whole culture (Benjamin, Gallagher and Greenblatt). The arts have become more esoteric, speaking more and more to themselves, and relinquishing, by and large, the ability to inspire or to convey a clear sense of beauty. In architecture, the crises are manifest in many stylistic inventions for the sake of invention, and in urban planning, in the inability to cope with the phenomenon of rapid urbanization and the dysfunctional mega-city.

To overcome these crises of today’s increasingly atomized subcultures, it is useful to consider in further detail some collisions and potential confluences.

Science, Engineering and the Humanities
The purpose of humanities is the cultured man; that of science the knowledgeable man. The language of the humanities is ordinary language; that of most science and engineering is mathematics. Literature has room for emotions, but the strictures of the discipline of verifiable truth that governs science in its quest for knowledge cannot be influenced by them. Ultimately, however, one set of endeavors implies the other. Scientific knowledge impinges on views of the world, such as those of human origins and race. For instance, archeology or restoration and analysis of ancient texts depend ever more on science, as does an understanding of the reasons behind turning points in history, such as those caused by different susceptibility to disease or by the mastery of a new technology. Conversely, science is powerfully influenced by the culture in which it is embedded, as dramatically evidenced by the contrast between science in the Middle Ages and in the European Renaissance, or between science in the West and in the former Soviet Union. One cannot overlook the influence in the development of science of the four subjects of the quadrivium, with their mathematical leitmotif. But, eventually, with the Renaissance, science took off on its own, leaving the quadrivium behind. Biology, physics, chemistry and the transformation of matter are all beyond the quadrivium (and so is art represented in the quadrivium only, in a narrow way, by music). This widening gap between science and the humanities cannot be overcome if scientists fail to understand and appreciate the raison d’être of the humanities: what they are about, what are their fundamental tenets, and how they can be judged and appreciated. In turn, those who cultivate the humanities, if they are to regain their ability to inspire and guide society, need to understand what science is about, its foundations, processes and validity criteria. They also need to understand the activities that modify nature—engineering.

The conflicts between humanities and engineering, the mother lode of today’s technology, are even more accentuated and evident than those between humanities and science. For one, the engineering ethos of utility is perceived to clash with the ethos of the humanities. The conflicts are extreme and asymmetrical. In most liberal arts curricula there is no single course on engineering—on its role in the scheme of things and on the nature of its methods. Hence there is little fundamental understanding by the humanities of what engineering, this continuation of biology by other means, is about, and of the purpose, impacts, processes, dilemmas and high dramas of technology. This severely limits the ability of the liberally educated when confronted with an engineering project, to address questions that are crucial to the avoidance of technological determinism—of the “if it can be done it will be done,” of a world ever more technological regardless of consequences. Yet questions such as the probability, nature and severity of the side effects of technology cannot be addressed without the involvement of the humanities. Most engineers recognize the need for a presence of the humanities in their college education (with some twenty percent of the engineering curriculum in the United States devoted to them, in part also because of the weakness of high school curricula) yet this does not seem to produce a true reciprocal understanding. Clearly, this requires a far better integration.

An area where the humanities, science and engineering need urgently to come together is the environment. If we are to be successful in reducing our mounting environmental problems, science must continue to provide the knowledge, and engineering the designs and artifacts for reducing environmental damage and ensuring the long-term sustainability of our species. This cannot occur without the involvement of the humanities in understanding what the environment means in our lives and of how it is affected not only by technology, but also by human drives, emotions and ethical credos.

Science, Engineering and the Arts
It is almost inevitable that art as a great conveyor of myths (Campbell) and science and engineering as great untanglers of myths—but also the creators of new ones—often would find themselves in conflict. However, the conflict should not be irreducible, as history and a broader view of human evolution suggest. In the Renaissance, art, science and engineering could still be combined in a figure like Leonardo, but they eventually diverged and with that diversion came a mutual lack of comprehension. Today, the aesthetic aspects of science again are being underscored by the new views of nature made possible by scientific discoveries, as articulately expressed by Roald Hoffmann (Hoffmann). On the other hand, the aesthetic impacts of technology, unlike those of science, have always been evident, given the presence that artifacts—machines—have in our life. But with the exasperating functionality of mass production, an engineering appreciation of the aesthetic qualities of artifacts has often come to be neglected. Recently, with structural art—e.g., the view of a bridge also as a work of art (Billington)—and with the growing commercial importance of aesthetics in automobiles and other functional artifacts, the time is ripe in engineering for a renewed appreciation of aesthetics. Unfortunately, in the required curriculum of our engineering schools, not a single course deals with taste, aesthetics or style. Neither, for that matter, do arts curricula focus on the kinship of art and engineering as modifiers of nature. The consequence is, much too often, human-made environments with no emotional impact, that can benumb, rather than inspire.

Both artists and engineers create artifacts, that is, something that did not exist before. In the history of modern man, artistic artifacts and fairly sophisticated functional artifacts seem to have appeared in appreciable numbers at about the same time, some forty thousand years ago. In spite of this connection, there are many profound reciprocal misunderstandings. For one, the creativity of the modern artist is unfettered, but that of the engineer is, by necessity, controlled. Art expresses emotions. The supreme rule of engineering is rationality. This is not to say, however, that there is no emotion in engineering and no rationality in art. It would be a terrible world if the one were to prevail at the exclusion of the other. What we have rarely achieved is the blending of the two, something that occurs today mostly in architecture—but even there constantly pushed in one direction or the other—or in the design of automobiles and some other artifacts.

A further source of conflict is the individuality of a work of art versus the potentially endless replicability of many products of technology. Here again, a blending of individuality and productive capacity could make for a less alienating world. For instance, new materials, the incorporation of electronics, and the use of sounds to complement aesthetically the functionality of structures, offer engineering a vast domain of possibilities. At the same time, new art forms are being stimulated and made possible by scientific and technological developments, as in computer art. This makes it possible to think of a new convergence of art, science and engineering in a fusion of these three powerful mythmakers of our time. An art that was freed from representational demands and given the possibility of unconstrained creativity by the advent of imaging technologies like photography can now converge again with science and technology. In turn, science and technology offer art new creative possibilities enhanced by combining the functional with the expressive and the emotional.

Science and Engineering
That science and engineering are quite different was understood by Galileo but not by Francis Bacon (Wolpert), a confusion probably stemming from the ignorance of the mechanical arts in the medieval trivium and quadrivium.4

The connections between science and engineering are, of course, obvious. The language of modern engineering is primarily math and science. In turn, science not only uses the inventions and the instruments of engineering and technology—metals, paper or the computer—but at times has been inspired by them, as in the clock’s influence on planetary theories, or of artillery on the development of ballistics, or of the invention of the radio on the development of radio astronomy. Thus science and engineering benefit each other and have complemented each other in extending the human reach. But, as discussed, they have a different purpose, different methods and different places in education. The touchstone of science is verifiable truth, that of technology—the process in which engineering is embedded—cost-effectiveness. Science literacy has often ignored technology literacy, viewed erroneously as simply the application of science. The conflicts arising out of a different purpose are evident in issues such as the drilling for oil in Alaska, or the direction of our space endeavors.

What Should An Educated Person Know?
The exclusion of the medieval mechanical arts from the university education based on the trivium and quadrivium has roots that go back to classical Greece. When Plato identified three ascending stages of human development through education, he missed technology, that is, the power to modify the physical and biological world. (One might speculate whether, because of the absence of the archeological and anthropological knowledge we possess today, he could not possibly have had a sense of the crucial role technology had played in the emergence of humans and in making life in Greece what it was at the time). Plato considered only the perception of beauty and good, that is mainly the humanities, the power to reflect, that is the foundation of philosophy and of what today we would call science, and the elements necessary to make rational decisions, that is, again, in his time, mainly philosophy. The absence of an explicit sense of the importance of machines and technology is manifest even today in the architecture of E.O. Wilson’s consilience (Wilson).

The Biosoma
The crucial questions for our culture are, what is it, indeed, to be human, and how can we maintain and enhance our humanity as we develop ever more revolutionary scientific advances and our ever more powerful and pervasive societal organizations and processes and machines? To answer, we need to understand the indissoluble complex formed by us as biological organisms, by the society around us, and by the machines we have created—a complex that, in short, could be called the biosoma (Bugliarello). Although there have been countless attempts to differentially characterize the three biosoma entities, we still do not quite understand their interactions and we are still confused as to the essence of the most recent of the three components, the machine. Recognition of the nature, potential and pathologies of the biosoma as a whole and of its components remains, by and large, terra incognita and will continue to be so until we come to face the possibilities of human cloning, self-reproducing machines, or irreversible loss of privacy.

The different characteristic of the performance of biological organisms, society and machines further illuminate the basis of the conflicts between liberal arts and science or technology, as well as between art and engineering. Biological organisms, as well as society, are of a semi-definite nature, in the sense that, in spite of all the advances of our biological and social sciences, their behavior or performance cannot be exactly predicted, at least for the foreseeable future. Functional machines, on the other hand, have a definite performance; they can be trusted to respond exactly, if well designed, to the intent of their creator. Artistic machines, such as a painting or a sculpture, could be called artifacts of indefinite performance, because their creator can never really know how they will be perceived by those who view them.

In their long existence on Earth, living organisms have had the benefit of the crucible of evolution, unlike the machines we humans are creating, as their emergence has been simply too rapid. Thus, if developed with inadequate social controls, machines could threaten our survival through their power and ubiquity, the very qualities that make them so useful to us. In this terribly complicated world we have created, we can remain in control only through the development of a moral sense based on three solid understandings: what science can tell us, what rules and instruments our society needs in order to guide wisely the modifications of nature and the creation of machines and what engineering can and cannot do. The sum of these three developments is exquisitely human and should be a cornerstone of a truly liberal education. Other animals may only know, instinctively, without reflection, what is strictly necessary to their survival and obey some social rules. They may also, instinctively, modify nature, as when they build a nest or use a stick—simple machines—but they cannot build on the immense scale we humans can, as they lack the rational method of science and the complex machines of engineering. And they have no conception of spiritual and aesthetic canons and of a reasoned morality.

A New Trivium and Quadrivium
An education cannot be called truly humanistic if it fails to look at humans in the context of the evolutionary history of the biosoma and its projections into the future. The heritage of the medieval trivium and quadrivium that remains at the core of our humanities education is simply inadequate to do so. To be sure, to pose and attempt to answer questions such as what role art, literature or history play, or should play in our lives, is essential, but it is not enough. There are other questions, from the nature and the implications of an explosively urbanizing world to cloning, that are equally essential to the future of our civilization but demand a cultural understanding of science and engineering, that is, of how and why we go about learning about nature and modifying it. The consequences of that dearth of understanding are quite evident in the long sweep of time from Roman times to the Middle Ages. In that period the lack of focus, for instance, on remedies to adverse manifestations of nature, and on infrastructures for public health, contributed to the lethality of the pandemics that arose repeatedly with terrifying impact. Today, with over six billion people crowding the globe, with the accelerated alterations of our environment, and with the creation of weapons of mass destruction, those consequences can be far more serious. In dealing with the human-made world around us created by science and technology, it may be charming, but terribly confining and crippling, to have to say, like Rebecca West, “…that vast suspension bridge…always troubles me because it reminds me that in this mechanized age I am as little able to understand my environment as any primitive woman who thinks that a waterfall is inhabited by a spirit, and indeed less so, for her opinion might from a poetical point of view be correct. I know enough to be aware that this bridge cannot have been spun by a vast steel spider out of its entrails, but no other explanation seems to me as plausible, and I have not the faintest notion of its use. But the man that comes down the gangway of the ship…him I can understand, for he is something that is not new” (West).

But if education in the humanities needs to be greatly broadened, for the same reasons education in the intellectual and moral faculties must be required of those who endeavor to understand and modify nature. The medieval doctor was steeped in both sets of faculties, but his goal (there were no women doctors at the time) was primarily to influence the course of a disease, that is, to modify nature—the only facet of the physical modification of nature that was included in the universities at the time. Today, given our enormous scientific and technological powers, the potential consequences of not having a clear and widely agreed upon sense of the ethical and humanistic imperatives that must guide those powers are, again, enormous.

Ultimately, the most fundamental source of conflicts among the different domains of knowledge and of our inability to benefit from their potential confluences is a lack of integration, pragmatically and philosophically. What is called for is a new conception, a new trivium and quadrivium, propaedeutic to all specializations and infused with that sense of the future that was absent from the medieval one and continues, by and large, to be absent today. A new trivium is needed to provide every educated person with a basic understanding of the endeavors and instruments that help us address our world—the humanities, (in the noblest sense of the word) to civilize, science to understand nature and engineering, broadly defined, to encompass the kindred activities that modify nature. The interaction of these endeavors and instruments shapes a new morality, which cannot be defined as the domain of a single discipline or set of disciplines. And each of these endeavors and instruments involves, in turn, an intimate interaction of biological organisms, society, machines and the environment. Thus a new quadrivium is needed to complement the trivium, to provide an understanding of this biosomic context of our life, starting with the quintessential biosomic nature of the fountainhead of civilization, the city.

It could be argued that a drastic rearrangement of our education is a desperate and even counterproductive enterprise (Rosenzweig). Certainly it is an extremely difficult one, but without a new vision and the will to make it reality, we will perpetuate divisions and forego opportunities to the ultimate risk of our civilization.

There are obviously many ways to conceive of a new foundation of education, of a new trivium and quadrivium. However structured and labeled, its essential feature must be integration, the weaving through each subject the influence of the others. No domain can any longer be considered in isolation, as it is a piece of a profoundly interacting whole. As written on the inscription of the National Museum of American History in Washington, James Smithson “was well aware that knowledge should not be viewed as existing in isolated parts, but as a whole, each portion of which throws light on the other…narrow minds think nothing of importance but their own favorite pursuit, but liberal views exclude no branch of science or literature, for they all contribute to sweeten, to adorn, and embellish life.”


  1. There is still confusion about the terms engineering and technology. One could say very simply that engineering is related to technology in the same way that medicine is related to health care. So they are not synonymous, but today one implies the other.

    2. I define here the term machine as synonymous with artifact, a creation of humans, or more generally, of biological organisms. It is so general that it encompasses both functional artifacts such as a computer, and artistic ones, such as a painting. The creation and use of machines by a number of animals (e.g., beehives and birds’ nests) predates the machines created by humans, but only with humans it has reached enormous intensity and sophistication.

  2. as manifest in myriads of expressions, such as “crystallize,” “she has good genes,” “the whole nine yards,” “all steamed up,” “zoom,” “flying by the seat of your pants,” “being on autopilot,” “carbon copy,” “full speed ahead,” “pedal to the floor,” “full throttle,” “xerox copy,” “being programmed,” “coasting,” “rev up,” “straight shooter,” “cliché,” “explosive personality.”

  3. However, the terms science and scientist are not synonymous. Neither are engineering and engineer. In pursuing their goals, scientists may need to do engineering, e.g., by creating devices, and engineers to do science, e.g., in endeavoring to understand the dynamics of a river to be bridged.


Benjamin, Walter and Hannah Arendt (Ed), “The Work of Art in an Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” in Illuminations, Schocken Books, 1985.

Billington, David P., Robert Maillard Bridges: The Art of Engineering, Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ, 1979.

Bloom, Jonathan and Sheila Blair, Islam—a Thousand Years of Faith and Power, TV Books, New York, 2000

Bugliarello, George, “The Biosoma: The Synthesis of Biology, Machines and Society,” Bulletin of Science, Technology and Society, Vol. 20, No. 6, December 2000.

Campbell, Joseph, Transformation of Myth Through Time, Harper and Row, New York, 1990.

Florman, Samuel C., the Existential Pleasures of Engineering, St. Martin Press, 1996.

Gallagher, Catherine and Stephen Greenblatt, Practicing New Historicism, University of Chicago Press, 2000.

Gross, Paul R. and Norman Levitt, Higher Superstition. The Academic Left and Its Quarrels with Science, Johns Hopkins University Press, Baltimore, 1994.

Hoffmann, Roald, “Molecular Beauty,” American Scientist, Vol. 76, p. 389, 1988.

Koertege, Norettie (Ed.), A House Built on Sand, Oxford University Press, New York, 1998.

Plumb, J.H., (Ed.), Crisis in the Humanities, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, 1964.

Rosenzweig, Robert M., “Course Changes for the Research University,” Science, Vol. 294, October 19, 2001, pp. 572-28.

Ross, Andrew (Ed.), Science Wars, Duke University Press, Durham, NC, 1996.

Sarton, George, The History of Science and the New Humanism (with Recollections and Reflections by Robert K. Merton), Transition Books, New Brunswick, 1998 (Sarton’s original 1962).

Segerstråle, Ullica (Ed.), Beyond the Science Wars. The Missing Discourse About Science and Society, State University of New York University Press, Albany, NY, 2000.

Snow, C.P., “The Two Cultures,” New Statesman and Native, October 6, 1956, pp. 413-414.

West, Rebecca, Black Lamb and Grey Falcon—a Journey Through Yugoslavia, Penguin, New York, 1994.

Wilson, E.O., Consilience: the Unity of Knowledge, Knopf, New York, 1998.

Wolpert, Lewis, The Unnatural Nature of Science, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, MA, 1993.


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