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The theme of the conference of which this volume is the record con-
trasts a pluralistic interwar economics with a monolithic (neoclassical)
postwar economics. Two conflicting metanarratives are in play in this
idea. The first is the triumphalism of disciplinary progress, a morality
play in which economics finally fulfills the Jevonian promise and
becomes scientific through the use of mathematics. In this view, good
science displaces bad thinking, loose thinking, and the inappropriately
varied argumentation of economics. We may think of Paul Samuelson
(1987) as an exemplar of this way of constructing the history of this
period. The second is a construction of the interwar period as one in
which the healthy variety of economic thought was forced onto the Pro-
crustean bed of neoclassical theory. What emerged by the time of the
neoclassical synthesis was an economics bereft of joy, intelligence, and
humanity. We may think of modern institutionalists, neo-Austrians,
and post-Keynesians as exemplars of this perspective. In either case,
the usual question asked is “Why was pluralism replaced by neoclassi-
cism?” The two metanarratives condition the meta-answers “So that
Goodness would triumph” and “So that Evil would triumph,” respec-
tively. In both cases, however, it is apparently believed that mathemat-
ical theory “pushed out” nonmathematical theorizing in economics.
In this essay, I will not address the “why” question posed previously.
Instead I will look closely at “what happened” in this period by reading
Griffith Conrad Evans in conjunction with the mathematician Vito
1. This distinction between the body of mathematical knowledge and the image of math-
ematics is based on the work of Leo Corry (1989, 1996).
2. “Vito Volterra’s World” is taken from the lovely article by Judith Goodstein (1984).
Along the way, Evans took time to write “The Physical Universe of
Dante” in 1921 and to explain the Italian school of algebraic geometry to
a large audience in “Enriques on Algebraic Geometry” in 1925. His last
work, published in 1961 at age seventy-four, was “Funzioni armoniche
polidrome ad infiniti valori nello spazio, con due curve di ramificazione
di ordine uno.” It is safe to say that his command of the Italian language
and his early connection to the mathematical subjects created by
Volterra linked Evans irrevocably to Volterra, who became his intellec-
tual model. How else are we to read the following gracious and admir-
ing passage?
Volterra was close to the Risorgimento, close to its poets and their
national ideals. In 1919 he was prevailed upon, in spite of a modest
reluctance, to give a lecture on Carducci. I remember the occasion
well because I had the pleasure of translating this, as well as his
exposition of functions of composition, viva voce to an audience of
students. He was also close to the Rinascento, with respect to his sen-
sitivity to art and music and his unlimited scientific curiosity. His
devotion to the history of science and his feeling for archeology
were expressed respectively in the treasures of his personal library
in Rome and in his collection of antiquities in his villa at Ariccia. He
took a most prominent part in the international organizations of sci-
ence and in extending the cultural relations of Italy. His career gives
us confidence that the Renaissance ideal of a free and widely ranging
knowledge will not vanish, however great the pressure of special-
ization. (Evans 1959, 3)
Volterra was the mathematician Evans wished to be; the mentoring
of postdoctoral students is to this day frequently a process of profes-
sional modeling and career and interest shaping. In Evans’s case, this
was to be manifest in his lifelong connection to Italy and to Volterra
himself.
We have the handwritten autobiographical notes that the aged and
failing Evans tried to put together in 1967, fragments of an autobiogra-
phy he could not complete. He said that command of the Italian lan-
guage was not gained early or at home, for as a Harvard student of
“Copy”— Charles Townsend Copeland — he frequently wrote literary
themes in and “could read and enjoy French, German and Latin as well
as English” (Evans 1967). At another place in these disorganized notes
he recalls a series of images from the past and remarks that “towards
the end of the war (Sept. 1918) I was up towards the front, on the Lido
(if I remember correctly), to ‘inspect’ the Italian antiaircraft defenses.
. . . Earlier somewhere near the mountains (Padova?) I remember how-
ever an open prairie, at the front way north of the Po (Battle of the
Piave). Volterra and I were driven up in a big automobile to Padova and
I was taken to the front.” The point is clear. Even as memory and hand-
writing failed and his powers waned, Evans took great pride in the fact
that his work and Volterra’s were connected.
Since I will argue that Evans’s interest in the mathematization of
economics can be informed by Volterra’s, we need to know more about
Volterra.3 Born in 1860, he and his mother were left destitute when his
father died in 1862. They were taken in by relatives in Florence, where
Volterra grew up and was educated. He was very precocious, and his
teachers quickly recognized his remarkable abilities. One teacher, the
physicist Antonio Roiti, intervened in family discussions about launch-
ing Volterra into a commercial career by making the high school boy
his assistant in the physics laboratory at the University of Florence.
There, Volterra won a competition to study mathematics and physics at
the University of Pisa in 1880. After receiving his doctorate in 1882,
with several publications in analysis in hand, he was appointed as assis-
tant to the mathematician Enrico Betti and the following year won a
post as professor of mechanics at Pisa. In 1900 he succeeded Eugenio
Beltrami in the chair of mathematical physics at the University of
Rome (E. Volterra 1976, 86).
In Rome, Volterra established his position as scientific leader-
spokesperson of the new country. His research interests were wide
ranging, and his position in Rome allowed him to stay at the center of
activity:
Rome became the capital of the newly-created state of Italy in 1870.
Under the leadership of Quintano Sella (1827 – 1884), a mathemati-
4. See the very good compilation contained in the five volumes of Volterra’s Opere matem-
atiche (1957).
5. Let me acknowledge my debt to Giorgio Israel, whose leadership role in interpreting the
history of Italian mathematics has shaped my views here.
6. I thank Giorgio Israel for several conversations on this matter and for his insistence on
this distinction. His article “ ‘Rigor’ and ‘Axiomatics’ in Modern Mathematics” (1981) shapes
this discussion.
identification of rigor with axiomatics obscures the way the terms were
used at the turn of the century. Today we tend to identify the abstract
reasoning chains of formal mathematical work with the notion of rigor
and to set rigor off against informal reasoning chains. Being unrigorous
signifies, today, intellectual informality. This is not the distinction that
was alive in Volterra’s world, however. For Volterra, to be rigorous in
modeling a phenomenon was to base the modeling directly and unam-
biguously on the experimental substrate of concrete results. The oppo-
site of “rigorous” was not “informal” but rather “unconstrained.” To pro-
vide a nonrigorous explanation or model in biology, economics, physics,
or chemistry was to provide a model unconstrained by experimental
data or by interpersonally confirmable observations.
In Volterra’s view, the strategy for approaching scientific explanation
generally was to base reasoning on the most well-developed intellec-
tual framework then extant, the framework of classical mathematical
physics. His clearest statement of this position, of special interest to
economists, was the 1901 article “Sui tentativi di applicazione della
mathematiche alle scienze biologiche e sociale.”7 It is useful to exam-
ine one lengthy passage from this article, in which Volterra defines
what, at the turn of the century, this position entailed for the field of
economics:
The notion of homo oeconomicus which had given rise to much
debate and has created so many difficulties, and which some people
are still loath to accept, appears so easy to our mechanical scientist
that he is taken aback at other people’s surprise at this ideal, schematic
being. He sees the concept of homo oeconomicus as analogous to
those which are so familiar to him as a result of long habitual use. He
is accustomed to idealizing surfaces, considering them to be friction-
less, accepting lines to be nonextendable and solid bodies to be non-
deformable, and he is used to replacing natural fluids with perfect
liquids and gases. Not only is this second nature to him: he also
7. This was Volterra’s inaugural address at the University of Rome for a chair in mathe-
matical physics. It was initially published in the Annurio della Universita Roma and reprinted
in the Giornale degli economisti in 1901. It was translated into French in 1906 by Ludovic
Zoretti as “Les mathématiques dans les sciences biologiques et sociales” (V. Volterra 1906b).
For the reader’s convenience, I will use the English translations of the relevant portions, by
Giogio Israel in several of his works, although I will on occasion make use of an unpublished
translation prepared by Caroline Benforado. Citations to Israel’s translations are followed by
citations to the original source in Volterra in Italian or French.
knows the advantages that derive from these concepts. If the mechan-
ics scholar pursues this study he will see that both in his own science
and in economics everything can be reduced to an interplay of trends
and constraints—the latter restricting the former which react by gen-
erating tensions. It is from this interplay that equilibrium or move-
ment stems, one static and one dynamic, in both these sciences. We
have already referred to the vicissitudes of the idea of force in the
history of mechanics: from the peaks of metaphysics we have
descended to the sphere of measurable things. In economics, for
example, we no longer speak as Jevons did about the mathematical
expression of non-measurable quantities. Even Pareto seems to have
given up his idea of ophelimity, which was the cornerstone of his
original edifice, and is moving to purely quantitative concepts with
indifference curves which so beautifully match the level curves and
equipotential surfaces of mechanics. . . . Lastly our mechanical sci-
entist sees in the logical process for obtaining the conditions for eco-
nomic equilibrium the same reasoning he himself uses to establish
the principle of virtual work, and when he comes across the eco-
nomic differential equations he feels the urge to apply to them the
integration methods which he knows work so well. (Israel 1988, 43
[V. Volterra 1906b, 9 – 10])
Volterra sought to mathematize economics and biology by replacing
metaphysical mathematical analogies with rigorous mathematical
models.8 In economics, however, Volterra published only one official
work, a review of Vilfredo Pareto: “L’economia matematica ed il nuovo
manuale del Prof. Pareto” (1906a). Toward the end of that piece,
Volterra cautioned:
By rigorously solving well-defined problems in a clearly delimited
field, mathematical economics must offer us a secure foundation of
positive data on which to base our judgment as to the procedures to
be followed in various circumstances. But it always leaves open the
discussion of the great moral and political questions to which such
8. Volterra himself, writing in 1901, when he was forty-one years old, could not have fore-
seen that from his mid-sixties until his death at age eighty he would be very concerned with
modeling biological theories and with creating a field of biomathematics. A current search of
the biology literature using the key word “Volterra” will produce hundreds of references to
Volterra models, the most significant of which is the so-called predator-prey model of inter-
species rivalry and population dynamics.
results should be applied. . . . But to ensure that one can fully justify
the application of mathematics and to obtain the secure results one
seeks, it is first of all necessary that the problems be formulated
clearly and [be] based on definitions and postulates containing noth-
ing vague. It is also essential that . . . the elements taken into consid-
eration are treated as quantities that cannot elude measurement.
(Ingrao and Israel 1990, 164 [V. Volterra 1957, 142, 144])
Ingrao and Israel (1990, 164) believe that Volterra, “despite his initial
enthusiasm” for mathematical economics, “immediately came up against
the difficulties inherent in the theory’s fragile empirical foundations.”
Israel has returned to this view, with respect to Volterra and economics,
on several occasions (Israel 1988, 1991a, 1991b; Israel and Nurzia
1989). His point is simple and clear: Volterra’s view of science and sci-
entific explanation, which entailed rigor in modeling in the sense of
developing economic explanations from mechanical ones, came up
against the nonempirical nature of economics and the impossibility of
erecting mathematical economic theories on any empirical foundation
whatsoever.
The larger issue, however, was that Volterra’s perspective was increas-
ingly unsatisfactory as a solution to the crisis in the natural sciences.
Indeed the entire crisis, at least in physics, turned on the explanatory
power of mechanical reductionism; far from being part of the solution,
reductionist thinking such as Volterra’s was itself the problem. The crisis,
or rather the interlocked crises, of mathematics and physics was resolved
by the formalist position on explanation, whereby mathematical analogy
replaced mechanical analogy and mathematical models were cut loose
from their physical underpinnings in mechanics. The result was that in
the first decades of the twentieth century a rigorous argument was recon-
ceptualized as a logically consistent argument instead of as an argument
that connected the problematic phenomenon to a physical phenomenon
by use of empirical data. Propositions were henceforth “true” within the
system considered because they were consistent with the assumptions
instead of being “true” because they could be grounded in “real phe-
nomena.” We can leave Volterra here and refocus on Evans, for a his-
torian of economics can construct Evans out of these Volterra-emergent
themes.
thetics was the determination of how wide the aesthetic net should be
cast. He suggested that knowledge of the aesthetic issues in mathe-
matics could cast light on the general problem. The inability of math-
ematics to determine which geometry is “correct” leads to a position
“that an arbitrary element enters into that most exact of sciences, math-
ematics. . . . The nature of mathematics is that it is entirely arbitrary,
and its use is that in its growth, by the formation of arbitrary concepts,
it limits itself more or less unconsciously to those who have mirrors in
actual life. It is therefore a ‘human interest’ story.” Beyond the techni-
cal skills required to be a mathematician, “other qualities of a far more
subtle sort, chief among them . . . imagination, are necessary.” He cites
Benedetto Croce with approval and remarks that “art is expressed in
intuition, that is, the synthesis of concrete imaginative elements. It is a
spiritual, theoretical activity.”
The third Evans lecture on the scientific aspects of philosophy was
reported in the Houston Chronicle on 28 January 1916. He began this
lecture on rationalism by noting that “each of the earlier two lectures
ended with a problem which could not be solved in terms of the meth-
ods proper to the subject of the lecture itself.” Evans framed the issues
as fundamentally epistemological; paraphrasing Immanuel Kant, he
asked, “How is metaphysics possible? How can we hope to know any-
thing about metaphysical questions?” Kant further asked whether nat-
ural science is possible in the sense that natural laws are not laws of
experience but creations of the human mind. Evans remarks that “the
axioms of mathematics are merely the forms in which sensations must
be presented to us in order to become mental representations, they are
meshes through which our intuitions are formed, and derive their neces-
sity from that fact. . . . Similarly the laws of the pure sciences of nature
are merely the laws of the understanding. By means of them nature
becomes intelligible. And they derive their certainty from that reason.”
These three lectures, apparently never published, aid our under-
standing of Evans’s perspective on the role of mathematics as a human
activity and thus an activity connected to other human activities, like
Alfred Marshall’s “study of mankind in the ordinary business of life.”
Evans is an end-of-the-nineteenth-century rationalist, a Harvard prag-
matist who believes in reason with a human face and a person’s capac-
ity to understand the world in which he or she lives. For many mathe-
maticians and physicists, the earth had moved in the 1890s. Evans was
writing on the eve of World War I, a time when civilization and its
authors who do not (269). Evans writes that “one recent book on the
mathematical principles of economics, typical of many others, builds
its theory on the following basis: Write U(x, y, . . .) for an algebraic
function of measurable quantities.” This author’s utility discussion is
linked to changes in utility and therefore satisfaction. Evans notes,
“Apparently this other author is unaware that he is begging the ques-
tion. If loci of indifference are expressed by Pfaffian differential equa-
tions it does not follow that there is any function of which these are the
level loci for such equations are not necessarily completely integrable.
The question is not of names, but of existence. These supposedly gen-
eral treatments are much more special than their authors imagined”
(270). Evans’s contempt for the misguided mathematical economist is
quite open: He identifies the economist who said these things as “Bow-
ley, Mathematical Groundwork of Economics, Oxford, 1924.”
Thus, by the time Evans releases his book, Mathematical Introduc-
tion to Economics, into the world of economists in 1930, he is on record
in print as believing that Jevons and his school, which of course means
Marshall, and Walras and his school, which of course means Pareto,
H. L. Moore, and virtually everyone else writing in mathematical terms,
are entirely misguided for basing analysis on a nonquantifiable theory
of value. Moreover, Evans has sneered in public at the mathematical
competence of the author in England, A. L. Bowley, who had written
the basic text in mathematics for economics.
Evans Marginalized
The Griffith Conrad Evans Papers at the University of California,
Berkeley’s, Bancroft Library contain some materials related to Evans’s
view of his book and his attempts to manage its reception. The papers
include, for example, an undated handwritten letter, probably to his edi-
tor H. J. Kelly at McGraw-Hill, about his desire to have Roos review
the book for the Bulletin of the American Mathematical Society. He
also suggests that Professor Snyder of Yale thinks the book can be used
“in connection with their mathematical club. Professor Kellogg thinks
he can use it in connection with tutorial work. In general the use as a
text must come slowly, since such courses are just beginning in the uni-
versities — Cornell and Yale are the only ones (besides Rice, where I
have four students).” He remarks that “I have not read Hotelling’s
review. It would probably irritate me, if he did not see what the book is
for. . . . It is the only book in the subject with exercises which the stu-
dent can practice on, and the only book in English which consistently
keeps to a uniform level of mathematical preparation using mathemat-
ics correctly. . . . The level of training is that which the engineer pos-
sesses. . . . It seems to me that you rule out your most important clien-
tele, namely the large number of engineers who usually buy your
books.”
The papers also contain two letters written by Henry Schultz at
Chicago on 24 April 1931 and 8 May 1931, the first of which replies to
a 20 April letter from Evans. It appears that the exchange developed
out of Evans’s learning that Schultz was to write a review and seems to
be based on a draft of the review sent to Evans. It also appears that
Schultz was concerned that Evans assumed too high a level of mathe-
matical sophistication for most students of economics, although he
does express admiration for Evans’s treatment of a number of topics, in
particular the dynamic problems approached through the calculus of
variations. In a very interesting remark in his first letter, Schultz says,
“Frankly, I am puzzled by your attitude. In my naivete, I assumed that
Volterra and Pareto had reached an understanding on this question.”
After giving the reference to the 1906 exchange between Volterra and
Pareto, Schultz asks, “Am I wrong? Are Pareto’s revised views on util-
ity and indifference curves — a revision which was necessitated by
Volterra’s criticism — still open to objection? If so, what is it? I should
greatly appreciate further light on this question.” He concludes the let-
ter with, “I am awaiting your reply to my query regarding Pareto’s
mature views on utility.”
Evans’s reply is not to be found in the papers, but Schultz’s letter of
8 May 1931 begins, “I am glad to get your letter of May 2 and to find
that we are beginning to understand each other.” Schultz refers to a
story that Evans must have told in the 2 May letter about his “experi-
ence with a chemical firm.” Schultz, in counterpoint, describes his own
experience with data and fitting curves to data and concludes, “It
appears that any attempt to get light on coefficients of production or
business methods is at this stage likely to be unsuccessful.”
It thus appears that Evans’s views of utility involve issues of mea-
sures of utility or value. The nonquantifiable and the nonmeasurable
were hardly fit subjects for mathematical investigations from Evans’s
point of view. To one trained in his manner in mathematics, a mathe-
9. Let the record show, however, that Evans was in a position to affect the work of econ-
omists in the postwar period. In “American Mathematicians in World War I” and later work,
Price (1988, 267) links Rothrock’s (1919) information that “G. C. Evans of the Rice Institute
was a captain of ordinance on special mission in France” to the comment that “since G. C.
Evans was president of the [American Mathematical] Society in 1939 and 1940, he partici-
pated in the appointment of the War Preparedness Committee of AMS and MAA. We also
have the knowledge that “the Aberdeen researchers included such key figures as [Oswald]
Veblen, Griffith C. Evans, Marston Morris, Warren Weaver, Norbert Weiner, Hans F. Blick-
felt, and G. A. Bliss, the first four of whom played significant roles in mobilizing the country’s
mathematical expertise during World War II” (Parshall 1994, 444). Thus, Evans was con-
nected to the emergent cyborg sciences, economics among them, which developed from the
collaborative work of economists and mathematicians during the war.
10. This is the subject of Weintraub and Mirowski 1994, a lengthy essay on Nicholas Bour-
baki and Gerard Debreu.
11. There is thus a delicious irony in the fact that Debreu has his office at Berkeley in
Evans Hall.
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