Scientists and engineers have long taken on roles of political leadership. From Archimedes, who aided in the defense of Syracuse against the Romans, to Boris Yeltsin, an engineer at the helm of the world's largest state, their intellectual insights and technical expertise have made them natural leaders.

The fact that few engineers and scientists begin their careers with any thought of political aspirations makes them all the more attractive as leaders. The present disenchantment with professional politicians in most democratic countries is indicative that the public has finally recognized that the legions of professional toadies who most ardently strive for power are precisely those to whom it should not be entrusted. But such views are hardly new; Plato's Republic states that those who seek office should not be permitted to hold it, and that those who should hold it must be compelled to do so. Nor does the Republic flinch from stating what type of intellectual pursuits best prepare an individual for the task of political leadership: geometry, abstract mathematics, dynamics of solid bodies, astronomy, and the analysis of musical sound. In my studies of political philosophy, Plato's ideal political leaders were referred to as "philosopher-kings," though this is perhaps because those who interpreted Plato were themselves philosophers. I prefer to call these leaders "scientists." In addition to being more accurate, this designation has some etymological validity; "philosopher" comes from the Greek for "lover of wisdom", while "scientist" derives from the Latin word for knowledge.

Though there are many examples of engineers and scientists who moved on to positions of political influence, I believe that two in particular are instructive: Benjamin Franklin and Margaret Thatcher. Each emerged from relatively humble beginnings to attain great influence not only over their own societies, but over the whole world. Two centuries after Franklin's death, his scientific, literary, institutional, and political legacies are immense. More distance is needed to reflect dispassionately on Thatcher's contributions, but her impact on the collapse of communism alone grants her a special place in the annals of history. Benjamin Franklin was, arguably, the most brilliant American in my country's history. Jefferson and Lincoln were a match for him in statesmanship, and better writers; but neither could match his achievements in theoretical and applied science. It is this amazing synergy of talents--Franklin's astounding ability to master both the world of politics and letters and that of scientific discovery and invention�which sets him apart.

Almost everyone remembers some aspects of Franklin's career, but I think that it is helpful to review and analyze some of the highlights. Though we have spoken of Franklin as a scientist and political leader, had he been neither of these, he would have been remembered as a great founder of public and academic institutions. Franklin mobilized his fellow-citizens to form a fire department, a library, the first hospital in the hemisphere, and a militia; he also served as a postmaster and a printer of government business, understanding the critical importance of good communications. He was elected president of both the American Philosophical Society and Pennsylvania's Society for Promoting the Abolition of Slavery. Franklin also founded a scholarly society, the Junto, and the Academy of Philadelphia, which has since become the University of Pennsylvania.

The Pennsylvania Gazette, the Autobiography, and Poor Richard's Almanack are among Franklin's best-known publications, although these are merely a fraction of his output. His proverbs and moral dicta, many of them embodied in Poor Richard, are still repeated today; his views on education and academic subjects have likewise been powerful for two centuries. Franklin's most influential political writing (save his contributions to the Declaration of Independence) was The Interest of Great Britain Considered with Regard to her Colonies, in which he called for the British crown to annex Canada from the French. Many in the British leadership hoped to trade what they perceived as a vast fur-bearing wasteland for something useful, such as the sugar-rich island of Guadeloupe. Franklin's impact by his publication of that tract--which solidified opinion in favor of holding Canada�cannot be overestimated in the history of the United States, Canada, and the British and French Empires.

We have not yet even spoken of Franklin's inventions. The Franklin stove, bifocal lenses, the lightning rod, the rocking chair, and the armonica (a musical instrument for which both Beethoven and Mozart wrote pieces) were a few of the better-known ones. To many today, his scientific reputation rests chiefly on his inventions, but these were only a fraction of his achievement. His theoretical contributions to our understanding of electricity astounded the world. He analyzed the nature of light, the heat conductivity of metals, and a range of medical issues. Engineers and scientists of all stripes try to claim him as one of their own, a progenitor of their respective specialties; but to categorize such a polymath as belonging to any one modern academic discipline is to needlessly bottle one of history's most diversified minds.

After Franklin had already become famous for his scientific achievements, he entered the political sphere. Franklin contributed first to strengthening the colonies' position within the British Empire, and subsequently to establishing their independence and unity. He served as an agent for several colonies in London, arguing their case before Parliament. An agent to the Continental Congresses, he then aided Jefferson in writing the Declaration of Independence, adding the stirring words, "We hold these truths to be self-evident." As minister to France, he helped to bring that country onto the American side in the War of Independence, and then negotiated the peace with a defeated Great Britain. At the age of eighty-one, Franklin, the oldest delegate at the Constitutional Convention, helped to persuade his fellow delegates to pass that critical and profound document.

In this career of amazing exploits in such a range of fields, we can detect a few common threads. Franklin's predilection for practical achievements, coupled with his love for both theoretical and applied knowledge, and his amazing energy in mobilizing people around him, were among his most salient characteristics. In every endeavor, he sought out empirical knowledge and utilized this information in taking action. His mind--logical and creative, piercing in its insight and bold in synthesizing ideas--had the rigor and versatility of a great scientist.

Whereas Franklin's achievements came in a range of fields, Margaret Thatcher's contributions were almost entirely in the political sphere. Her achievements were surprising, considering her background; she hardly seemed, on the basis of her origins, a possible candidate for the prime minister's office. She was a woman in a man's world, a grocer's daughter in a class-conscious society--a society which drew comfort from the ongoing leadership of the well- born. Her free-market ideology was counter to the prevailing socialist trends in Britain during her early political years. Thatcher herself did not believe that she would attain her country's highest office: "No woman in my time will become prime minister," she said in 1969. Her country and the world are better off because she was wrong.

Much of the basis for Thatcher's extraordinary strength can be found in her intellectual background. An undergraduate chemistry major, she later attributed much of her lifelong success to her scientific education. She states in her book, The Downing Street Years, that she was almost as conscious of being the first scientist in her post as of being the first woman. The modes of though which she learned in the course of her chemistry curriculum aided her throughout her career. She demanded precision in herself and others, always seeking facts before distilling theories. She carefully examined both problems and the resources available to solve them, thus developing an unusual confidence in her decisions.

In a relativistic age, when most politicos will abandon every principle they seemingly affirm in order to maintain the privileges of office, Thatcher's education had taught her that there are right answers to some questions. When she felt she had found them, she stood by her positions, even in the face of popular discontent, asserting that "Consensus is the negation of leadership." In the dozens of challenges great and small which she faced as prime minister, she showed a courage which set her apart from her contemporaries. This determination was matched only by her tireless energy and her unending commitment to achieving results by virtue of hard work.

A committed free-market democrat, Thatcher was a principal political catalyst of anti-communist revolutions in Eastern Europe and the Soviet Union. Calling Gorbachev "a man to do business with," she prodded him diplomatically and economically, while supporting Soviet dissidents and maintaining her firm ideological stand.

Thatcher's finest hour came early in her tenure as prime minister. Argentina seized total control of the Falkland Islands in 1982, and a leader without Thatcher's verve would have been satisfied with inevitably futile negotiations. Instead, Thatcher brought the British people behind her when she sent a fleet to drive Argentine forces from the islands. Her critics later tried to undermine her by accusing her of having gone to war for political gain; but if we view the scene as it seemed at that time, we see that, from a public-relations standpoint, Thatcher appeared to be guiding Britain toward a Suez-like debacle.

When the IRA began to launch attacks on high-level British politicians (including the prime minister herself), she never wavered in her commitment to eradicate terrorism. Her bitterness over the IRA's killings of her associates, however, did not prevent her from taking rational steps toward a solution to the conflict. She laid the groundwork for the Anglo-Irish Accord of 1985, permitting a limited role for the Irish Republic in the affairs of the North.

Thatcher's scientific background influenced her political views in more direct ways, for example in helping her to make decisions regarding energy policy. Such knowledge is becoming increasingly important to political leaders as advanced science and technology increasingly come to be important in political decision-making, from environmental policy to military affairs.

Thatcher's greatest virtues, as with so many leaders, also proved to be the basis of her undoing. Her relative indifference to public opinion was sometimes perceived as insensitivity, particularly when she stood by her hated poll tax. She refused to "wear tartan" to placate Scottish devolutionists, angering a key constituency for virtually no ideological or political gain. Moreover, her strong self- reliance contributed to one of her greatest errors. She believed that no one could maintain her policies as well as she herself could, and, like Churchill, lingered too long in the corridors of power. Her legacy and her place in history would have been better secured had she made a voluntary departure before a parliamentary coup had dislodged her, and had she better prepared those who would succeed her. Despite these errors, her influence pervades much of current policy in governments around the globe, as well as the evolving fabric of British society.

Margaret Thatcher was a veritable engine of ideas, of hard work, and of power. The so-called "Iron Lady"--bold, courageous, and indefatigable--was a student of science who made herself a master of history.