The Story of Occam’s Razor
The time was the early 14th century, the place was medieval Europe.
In a chilly library surrounded by stone walls, burning torches illuminate the room, casting dancing shadows and creating a less austere ambiance.
Dozens of monks lean over large books, aided by small candle holders, transcribing their words onto new sheets of thick yellow parchment.
Suddenly, one of the monks exclaims in panic, “The ink has vanished!”
A commotion ensues, with the monks alarmed at the prospect of their work being jeopardized, particularly on a day when the team of scribes had been augmented with the arrival of new monks.
“Someone must’ve stolen the ink!” said one monk.
“Could there be a book here that our good Lord disapproves of, making the ink disappear as punishment?” another speculated.
“This must be the work of witchcraft!” another exclaimed.
Then a firm and calm voice rang out: “Numquam ponenda est pluralitas sine necessitate.” (“Chill out dudes, there’s no need to stress about it and think of the worst.”)
William of Ockham spoke these words, which in Latin actually mean “plurality must never be posited without necessity.”…
