Bill #246: Strange Doings in Indiana
‘we think it something on which the members of both houses can unite without distinction of party.'”
James Garfield, commenting on his proof of The Pythagorean Theorem (as discussed in a previous essay).
Does it strike you at all as strange that then-Congressman James Garfield would make such a comment? My initial thought was that he was having a little fun, that his tongue was firmly planted in his cheek as he made that statement about his neat little proof. Then I remembered something I learned years ago, I recalled an attempt to legislate mathematical truth by what can only be described as a group of yahoos in Indiana. Hold your breath and take a look at this.
In the late 1800’s something happened in the state legislature of Indiana that is inconceivable. Let me begin by telling you that I keep an unofficial list of the dumbest, most inexplicable things I have ever heard. The following short story is always at or near the top of that fluid archive.
In 1897 the Indiana General Assembly took up Bill #246, generally known today as The Indiana π Bill. It is going to be hard for me to finish off this essay because I have trouble typing while my head is shaking violently back and forth. You see, every time I am reminded of this story, I lose a little more faith in humanity. The story of what happened in Indiana is easily one of the dumbest things that have ever occurred in the legislative history of this country. You know what? Let me qualify that last statement and say that it is one of the dumbest things that has ever happened anywhere at any time in the history of humanity.
Our road to perdition begins with Edwin Goodwin, a physician and amateur mathematician (let me stress amateur) who decided he had figured out how to square a circle using only a compass and a straightedge. The big problem with that is that in 1882 a real mathematician named Lindemann had proved that such a thing was impossible. Such nasty little facts never, ever get in the way of a crackpot on a mission, and Goodwin certainly was a goofball with an agenda. As unbelievable as it may sound, he found many willing accomplices in the representatives of the people of Indiana.
The details of the mathematics are not necessary, his paper is so bad that I would not feel right telling you about it. Sometimes it is good to set up a straw man just to show how bad an argument is but not in this case. I think the story of what happened with this atrocious bit of mathematics is the interesting part. For our purposes, there is only one thing you need to know, namely that Goodwin came up with 3.2 as the value of π. As you probably know, the real value is 3.1415927… The decimal just keeps going, never repeating on its way to infinity and beyond.
Goodwin actually had his paper published by the American Mathematical Monthly, a journal founded in 1894 and still around today. The thing is, the people responsible for publishing the journal let Goodwin pay for the privilege of having his “genius” exposed to the world at large. The paper was printed with a disclaimer indicating that it had not been peer-reviewed and that it was published at the request of the author. Do you think anyone took note of these facts? Nope.
Goodwin took his paper to a state representative named Taylor Record, and in one of the worst decisions ever made by any person anywhere at any time, Record introduced a bill, Bill #246, to have Goodwin’s claims written into law. The bill was put to the vote, and as you might have guessed, the vote was unanimous. What you might not have supposed is that the bill passed!
Goodwin had figured the value of π to be 3.2 and the Indiana General Assembly readily agreed. Can you believe that? They all agreed, without a single dissenting vote, that the value of π was to be 3.2 and that would be the law of the land. What were they thinking? It is my contention that they were not thinking at all. They were apparently charmed by Goodwin and stood in awe of his “genius.” It didn’t help that Goodwin told the politicians that the people of Indiana could use his result without paying royalties. Of course, the rest of the world would have to pay up.
Fortunately, the bill had to then go on to the Indiana Senate. It failed in a close vote, a very close vote. Even though it was apparent to everyone but the politicians that they all had lost their minds, they still nearly passed a law indicating that anyone using a value of π different than 3.2 was guilty of somehow breaking the law. Not only that, but in 1985, a scholar went through Goodwin’s paper and found that there were seven different values of π implied by Goodwin’s ridiculous mathematics. Can you actually believe any of this nonsense?
This story is relevant today as the purveyors of Intelligent Design try, time, and time again, to discount evolution by attempting to legislate what science is and what it is not. It is also a remarkable story as the science of Climate Change has become politicized to the point where the actual science, and the rock-solid mathematics that is its foundation, doesn’t seem to matter at all. The story of The Indiana π Bill is a cautionary tale, a spook story, one where the stakes are as high as you and I can imagine. We all must remain vigilant to ensure that the crackpots and the self-described geniuses remain hidden in the dark underbrush where they indeed belong.
