First 2012-13 Assignment

Bios,

Welcome to the first blog assignment of the 2012-13 school year. We will begin our study of biology by examining the nature of science. Science is a rich field of philosophical study and you will be introduced to two influential essays written on the subject.

Experiments are part of science but science is not simply experiments, otherwise science would be like a cook book. Discovered knowledge is part of science but science is not simply facts, otherwise stamp collecting would also be science. Science includes experiments and collected knowledge but it is much more. For example, how do we know? Reading these essays will help you begin to understand science and I hope cause a conversation to discuss it further.

Your assignment:
Read Dr. Ziman's essay then respond to the question below by commenting to the post.

Dr. Ziman's goal was to define science. He presented four familiar definitions for science and concludes by presenting his definition. Explain why Ziman finds the four familiar definitions lacking and how his definition addresses what he sees as the true nature of science.

Feel free to ask questions before you answer the question. To do this, simply comment to this entry. When you wish to answer the question, again simply add a comment to this entry but be sure to state that this is your answer. Your response will be your first grade.

Have fun with this and let AP Biology begin!

Mr. Baker

PUBLIC KNOWLEDGE An essay concerning the social dimension of science

J. M. ZIMAN, F.R.S. Professor of Theoretical Physics, University of Bristol
Cambridge Univ. Press, 1968.

In this essay a practicing scientist and gifted expositor sets forth a new point of view on the nature of science and how it works. Professor Ziman argues that the true goal of all scientific research is to contribute to the consensus of universally accepted knowledge. He explores the philosophical, psychological and sociological consequences of this principle, and explains how, in practice, the consensus is established and how the work of the individual scientist becomes a part of it. The intellectual form of scientific, knowledge is determined by the absolute need for the scientist to communicate his findings and to make them acceptable to other people. The internal social relations of the scientific community are. therefore all-important; the author has much to say, from his own experience, of the-'way scientists teach, communicate with, promote, criticize, honor, give ear to, and give patronage to, one another.

Professor Ziman's essay, being written in plain English, and requiring only the slenderest technical knowledge of science, can (and should) be read by any educated person; as he says "all genuine scientific procedures of thought and argument are essentially the same as those of everyday life".

WHAT IS SCIENCE?

Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind: ROM xiv- 5

To answer the question "What is Science?" is almost as presumptuous as to try to state the meaning of Life itself. Science has become a major part of the stock of our minds; its products are the furniture of our surroundings. We must accept it, as the good lady of the fable is said to have agreed to accept the Universe.

Yet the question is puzzling rather than mysterious. Science is very clearly a conscious artifact of mankind, with well-documented historical origins, with a definable scope and content, and with recognizable professional practitioners and exponents. The task of defining Poetry, say, whose subject matter is by common consent ineffable, must be self-defeating. Poetry has no rules, no method, no graduate schools, no logic: the bards are self-anointed and their spirit bloweth where it listeth. Science, by contrast, is rigorous, methodical, academic, logical and practical. The very facility that it gives us, of clear understanding, of seeing things sharply in focus, makes us feel that the instrument itself is very real and hard and definite. Surely we can state, in a few words, it’s essential nature.

It is not difficult to state the order of being to which Science belongs. It is' one of the categories of the intellectual commentary that Man makes on his World. Amongst its kith and kin we would put Religion, Art, Poetry, Law, Philosophy, Technology, etc - the familiar divisions or 'Faculties' of the Academy or the Multiversity.

At this stage I do not mean to analyze the precise relationship that exists between Science and each of these cognate modes of thought; I am merely asserting that they are on all fours with one another. It makes some sort of sense (though it may not always be stating a truth) to substitute these words for one another, in phrases like "Science teaches us. . . “or "The Spirit of Law is. . ." or "Technology benefits mankind by..."or "He is a student of Philosophy". The famous "conflict between Science and Religion" was truly a battle between combatants of the same species between David and Goliath if you will - and not, say, between the Philistine army and a Dryad, or between a point of order and a postage stamp.

Science is obviously like Religion, Law, Philosophy, etc. in being a more or less coherent set of ideas. In its own technical language, Science is information; it does not act directly on the body; it speaks to the mind. Religion and Poetry, we may concede, speak also to the emotions, and the statements of Art can seldom be written or expressed verbally-but, they all belong in the non- material realm.

But in what ways are these, forms of knowledge unlike one another? What are the special attributes of Science? What is the criterion for drawing lines of demarcation about it, to distinguish it from Philosophy, or from Technology, or from Poetry?

This question has long been debated. Famous books have been devoted to it. It has been the theme of whole schools of philosophy. To give an account of all the answers, with all their variations, would require a history of Western thought. It is a daunting subject. Nevertheless, the types of definition with which we are familiar can be stated crudely.

Science is the Mastery of Man's Environment. This is, I think, the vulgar conception. It identifies Science with its products; it points to penicillin or to an artificial satellite and tells us of all the wonderful further powers that man will soon acquire by the, same agency.

This definition enshrines two separate errors. In the first place it confounds Science, with Technology. It puts all its emphasis on the applications of scientific knowledge and gives no hint as to the intellectual procedures by which that knowledge may be successfully obtained. It does not really discriminate between Science and Magic, and gives us no reason for studies such as Cosmology and Pure Mathematics, which seem entirely remote from practical use.

It also confuses ideas with things. Penicillin is not Science, any more than a cathedral is Religion or a witness box is Law. The material manifestations and powers of Science, however beneficial, awe-inspiring, monstrous, or beautiful, are not even symbolic; they belong in a different logical realm, just as a building is not equivalent to or symbolic of the architect's blueprints. A meal is not the same thing as a recipe.

Science is the Study of the Material World. This sort of definition is also very familiar in popular thought. It derives, I guess, from the great debate between Science and Religion, whose outcome was a treaty of partition in which Religion was left with the realm of the Spirit whilst Science was allowed full sway in the territory of Matter.

Now it is true that one of the aims of Science is to provide us with a Philosophy of Nature, and it is also true that many questions of a moral or spiritual kind cannot be answered at all within a scientific framework. But the dichotomy between Matter and Spirit is an obsolete philosophical notion which does not stand up very well to careful critical analysis. If we stick to this definition we may end up in a circular argument in which Matter is only recognizable as the subject matter of Science. Even then, we shall have stretched the meaning of words a long way in order to accommodate Psychology, or Sociology, within the scientific stable.

This definition would also exclude Pure Mathematics. Surely this is wrong. Mathematical thinking is so deeply entangled with the physical sciences that one cannot draw a line between them. Modern mathematicians think of themselves as exploring the logical consequences (the 'theorems') of different sets of hypotheses or 'axioms', and do not claim absolute truth, in a material sense, for their results. Theoretical physicists and applied mathematicians try to confine their explorations to systems of hypotheses that they believe to reflect properties of the 'real' world, but they often have no license for this belief it would be absurd to have to say that Newton's Principia, and all the work that was built upon it, was not now Science, just because we now suppose that the inverse square law of gravitation is not perfectly true in an Einsteinian universe. I suspect that the exclusion of the 'Queen of the Sciences' from her throne is a relic of some ancient academic arrangement, such as the combination of classical literary studies with mathematics in the Cambridge Tripos, and has no better justification than that Euclid and Archimedes wrote in Greek.

Science is the Experimental Method. The recognition of the importance of experiment was the key event in the history of Science. The Baconian thesis was sound; we can often do no better today than to follow it.

Yet this definition is incomplete in several respects. It arbitrarily excludes pure mathematics, and needs to be supplemented to take cognizance of those perfectly respectable sciences such as Astronomy or Geology where we can only observe the consequences of events and circumstances over which we have no control. It also fails to give due credit to the strong theoretical and logical sinews that are needed to hold the results of experiments and observations together and give them force. Scientists do not in fact work in the way that operationalists suggest; they tend to look for, and find, in Nature little more than they believe to be there, and yet they construct airier theoretical systems than their actual observations warrant. Experiment distinguishes Science from the older, more speculative ways to knowledge but it does not fully characterize the scientific method.

Science arrives at Truth by logical inferences from empirical observations. This is the standard type of definition favored by most serious philosophers. It is usually based upon the principle of induction-that what has been seen to happen a great many times is almost sure to happen invariably and may be treated as a basic fact or Law upon which a firm structure of theory can be erected.

There is no doubt that this is the official philosophy by which most practical scientists work. From it one can deduce a number of practical procedures, such as the testing of theory by 'predictions' of the results of future observations, and their subsequent confirmation. The importance of speculative thinking is recognized, provided that it is curbed by conformity to facts. There is no restriction of a metaphysical kind upon the subject matter of Science, except that it must be amenable to observations and inference.

But the attempt to make these principles logically watertight does not seem to have succeeded. What may be called the positivist program, which would assign the label 'True' to statements that satisfy these criteria, is plausible but not finally compelling. Many philosophers have now sadly come to the conclusion that there is no ultimate procedure which will wring the last drops of uncertainty from what scientists call their knowledge.

And although working scientists would probably state that this is the Rule of their Order, and the only safe principle upon which their discoveries may be based, they do not always obey it in practice. We often find complex theories-quite good theories that really depend on very few observations. It is, extraordinary, for example, how long and complicated the chains of inference are in the physics of elementary particles; a few clicks per month in an enormous assembly of glass tubes, magnetic fields, scintillator fluids and electronic circuits becomes a new 'particle', which in its turn provokes a flurry of theoretical papers and ingenious interpretations. I do not mean to say that the physicists are not correct; but no one can say that all the possible alternative schemes of explanation are carefully checked by innumerable experiments before the discovery is acclaimed and becomes part of the scientific canon. There is far more faith, and reliance upon personal experience and intellectual authority, than the official doctrine will allow.

A simple way of putting it is that the logico-inductive scheme does not leave enough room for genuine scientific error. It is too black and white. Our experience, both as individual scientists and historically, is that we only arrive at partial and incomplete truths; we never achieve the precision and finality that seem required by the definition. Thus, nothing we do in the laboratory or study is "really" scientific, however honestly we may aspire to the ideal. Surely, it is going too far to have to say, for example, that it was "unscientific" to continue to believe in Newtonian dynamics as soon as it had been observed and calculated that the rotation of the perihelion of Mercury did not conform to its predictions.

This summary of the various conceptions of science obviously fails to do justice to the vast and subtle literature on the subject. If I have emphasized the objections to each point of view, this is merely to indicate that none of the definitions is entirely satisfactory. Most practicing scientists and most people generally, take up one or other of the attitudes that I have sketched, according to the degree of their intellectual sophistication-but without fervor. One can be zealous, for Science, and a splendidly successful research worker, without pretending to a clear and certain notion of what Science really is. In practice it does not seem to matter.

Perhaps this is healthy. A deep interest in theology is not welcome in the average churchgoer, and the ordinary taxpayer should not really concern himself about the nature of sovereignty or the merits of bicameral legislatures. Even though Church and State depend, in the end, upon such abstract matters, we may reasonably leave them to the experts if all goes smoothly. The average scientist will say that he knows from experience - and common sense what he is doing, and so long as he is not striking too deeply into the foundations of knowledge he is content to leave the highly technical discussion of the nature of Science to those self-appointed authorities the Philosophers of Science. A rough and ready conventional wisdom will see him through.

Yet in a way this neglect of - even scorn for - the Philosophy of Science by professional scientists is strange. They are, after all, engaged in a very difficult, rather abstract, highly intellectual activity and need all the guidance they can from general theory. We may agree that the general principles may not in practice be very helpful, but we might have thought that at least they would be taught to young scientists in training just as medical students are taught Physiology and budding administrators were once encouraged to acquaint themselves with Plato's Republic. When the student graduates and goes into a laboratory, how will he know what to do to make scientific discoveries if he has not been taught the distinction between a scientific theory and a non-scientific one? Making all allowances for the initial prejudice of scientists against speculative philosophy, and for the outmoded assumption that certain general ideas would communicate themselves to the educated and cultured man without specific instruction, I find this an odd and significant phenomenon.

The fact is that scientific investigation, as distinct from the theoretical content of any given branch of science, is a practical art. It is not learnt out of books, but by imitation and experience. Research workers are trained by apprenticeship, by working for their PhDs under the supervision of more experienced scholars, not by attending courses in the metaphysics of physics. The graduate student is given his "problem": "You might have a look at the effect of pressure on the band structure of the III-V compounds; I don't think it has been done yet, and it would be interesting to see whether it fits into the pseudopotential theory." Then, with considerable help, encouragement and criticism, he sets up his apparatus, makes his measurements, performs his calculations, etc. and in due course writes a thesis and is accounted a qualified professional. But notice that he will not at any time have been made to study formal logic, nor will he be expected to defend his thesis in a step b step deductive procedure. His examiners may ask him, why he had made some particular assertion in the course of his argument, or they may enquire as to the reliability of some particular measurement. They may even ask him to assess the value of the "contribution" he has made to the subject as a whole. But they will not ask him to give, any opinion as to whether Physics is ultimately true, or whether he is justified now in believing in an external world, or in what sense a theory is verified by the observation of favorable instances. The examiners will assume that the candidate shares with them the common language and principles of their discipline. No scientist really doubts that theories are verified by observation, any more than a Common Law judge hesitates to rule that hearsay evidence is inadmissible.

What one finds in practice is that scientific argument, written or spoken, is not very complex or logically precise. The terms and concepts that are used may be extremely subtle and technical, but they are put "together in quite simple logical forms, with expressed or implied relations as the machinery of deduction. It is very seldom that one uses the more sophisticated types of proof used in Mathematics, such as asserting a proposition by proving that its negation implies a contradiction. Of course actual mathematical or numerical analysis of data may carry the deduction through many steps, but the symbolic machinery of algebra and the electronic circuits of the computer are then relied on to keep the argument straight. (This point I owe to Professor Korner.) In my own experience, one more often detects elementary non sequiturs in the verbal reasoning than actual mathematical mistakes in the calculations that accompany them. This is not said to disparage the intellectual powers of scientists; I mean simply that the reasoning used in scientific papers is not very different from what we should use in an everyday careful discussion of an everyday problem.

This is a point to which we shall return in a later chapter. It is made here to emphasize the inadequacy of the 'logico-inductive' metaphysic of Science. How can this be correct ' when few scientists are interested in or understand it, and none ever uses it explicitly in his work? But then if Science is distinguished from other intellectual disciplines neither by a particular style or argument nor by a definable subject matter, what is it?

The answer proposed in this essay is suggested by its title: Science is Public Knowledge. This is, of course, a very cryptic definition, with almost the suggestion of a play upon words. (There is also, unfortunately, the hint of an antithesis to Personal Knowledge, the title of Polanyi's book to which I have already referred. No antagonism is meant. Polanyi goes a long way along the path I follow, and is one of the few writers on Science who have seen the social relations between scientists as a key factor in its nature.) What I mean is something along the following lines. Science is not merely published knowledge or information. Anyone may make an observation, or conceive a hypothesis, and, if he has the financial means, get it printed and distributed for other persons to read. Scientific knowledge is more than this. Its facts and theories, must survive a period of critical study and testing by other competent and disinterested individuals, and must have been found so persuasive that they are almost universally accepted. The objective of Science is not just to acquire information nor to utter all non-contradictory notions; its goal is a consensus of rational opinion over the widest possible field.

In a sense, this is so obvious and well-known that it scarcely needs, saying. Most educated and informed people agree that Science is true, and therefore impossible to gainsay. But I assert my definition much more positively; this is the basic principle upon which Science is founded. It is not a subsidiary consequence of the "Scientific Method"; it is the scientific method itself.

The defect of the conventional philosophical approach to Science is that it considers only two terms in the equation. The scientist is seen as an individual, pursuing a somewhat one-sided dialogue with taciturn Nature. He observes phenomena, notices regularities, arrives at generalizations, deduces consequences, etc., and eventually, Hey Presto! A Law of Nature springs into being. But it is not like that at all. The scientific enterprise is corporate. It is not merely, in Newton's incomparable phrase that one stands on the shoulders of giants, and hence can see a little farther. Every scientist sees through his own eyes - and also through the eyes of his predecessors and colleagues. It is never one individual that goes through all the steps in the logico-inductive chain; it is a group of individuals, dividing their labor but continuously and jealously checking each other's contributions. The cliché of scientific prose betrays itself "Hence we arrive at the, conclusion that..." 'The audience to which scientific publications are addressed
is not passive; by its cheering or booing, its bouquets or brickbats, it actively controls the substance of the communications that it receives.

In other words, scientific research is a social activity. Technology, Art and Religion are perhaps possible for Robinson Crusoe, but Law and Science are not. To understand the nature of Science, we must look at the way in which scientists behave towards one another, how they are organized and how information passes between them. The young scientist does not study formal logic, but he learns by imitation and experience a number of conventions that embody strong social relationships. In the language of Sociology, he learns to play his role in a system by which knowledge is acquired, sifted and eventually made public property.

It has, of course, long been recognized that Science is peculiar in its origins to the civilization of Western Europe. The question of the social basis of Science, and its relations to other organizations and institutions of our way of life is much debated. Is it a consequence of the 'Bourgeois Revolution', or of Protestantism - or what? Does it exist despite the Church and the Universities, or because of them? Why did China, with its immense technological and intellectual resources, not develop the same system? What should be the status of the scientific worker in an advanced society; should he be a paid employee, with a prescribed field of study, or an aristocratic dilettante? How should decisions be taken about expenditure on research? And so on.

These problems, profoundly sociological, historical and political though they may be, are not quite what I have in mind. Only too often -the element in the argument that gets the least analysis is the actual institution about which the whole discussion hinges scientific activity itself. To give a contemporary example, there is much talk nowadays about the importance of creating more effective systems for storing and indexing scientific literature, so that every scientist can very quickly become aware of the relevant work of every other scientist in his field. This recognizes that publication is important, but the discussion usually betrays an absence of careful thought about the part that conventional systems of scientific communication play in sifting and sorting the material that they handle. Or again, the problem of why Greek Science never finally took off from its brilliant taxiing runs is discussed in terms of, say, the aristocratic citizen despising the servile labor of practical experiment, when it might have been due to the absence of just such a communications system between scholars as was provided in the Renaissance by alphabetic printing. The internal sociological analysis of Science itself is a necessary preliminary to the study of the Sociology of Knowledge in the secular world.

The present essay cannot pretend to deal with all such questions. The 'Science of Science' is a vast topic, with many aspects. The very core of so many difficulties is suggested by my present argument-which Science stands in the region where the intellectual, the psychological and the sociological coordinate axes intersect. It is knowledge, therefore intellectual, conceptual and abstract. It is inevitably created by individual men and women, and therefore has a strong psychological aspect. It is public, and therefore molded and determined by the social relations between individuals. To keep all these aspects in view simultaneously, and to appreciate their hidden connections, is not at all easy. It has been put to me that one should in fact distinguish carefully between Science as a body of knowledge, Science as what scientists do and Science as a social institution. This is precisely the sort of distinction that one must not make; in the
language of geometry, a solid object cannot be reconstructed from its projections upon the separate Cartesian planes. By assigning the intellectual aspects of Science to the professional philosophers we make of it an and exercise in logic; by allowing the psychologists to take possession of the personal dimension we overemphasize the mysteries of "creativity" at the expense of rationality and the critical power of well-ordered argument; if the social aspects are handed over to the sociologists, we get a description of research as an N-person game, with prestige points for stakes and priority claims as trumps. The problem has been to discover a unifying principle for Science in all its aspects. The recognition that scientific knowledge must be public and consensible (to coin a necessary word) allows one to trace out the complex inner relationships between its various facets. Before one can distinguish and discuss separately the philosophical, psychological or sociological dimension of Science, one must somehow have succeeded in characterizing it as a whole. ("Hence a true philosophy of science must be a philosophy of scientists and laboratories as well as one of waves, particles and symbols." Patrick Meredith in Instruments of Communication, P. 40.)

In an ordinary work of Science one does well not to dwell too long on the hypothesis that is being tested, trying to define and describe it in advance of reporting the results of the experiments or calculations that are supposed to verify or negate it. The results themselves indicate the nature of the hypothesis, its scope and limitations. The present essay is organized in the same manner. Having sketched a point of view in this chapter, I propose to turn the discussion to a number of particular topics that I think can be better understood when seen from this new angle. To give a semblance of order to the argument, the various subjects have been arranged according to whether they are primarily intellectual, for example, some attempt to discriminate between scientific and non-scientific disciplines; psychological - e.g. the role of education, the significance of scientific creativity; sociological - the structure of the scientific community and the institutions by which it maintains scientific standards and procedures. Beyond this classification, the succession of topics is likely to be pretty haphazard; or, as the good lady said, "How do I know what I think until I have heard what I have to say?"

The subject is indeed endless. As pointed out in the Preface, the present brief essay is meant only as an exposition of a general theory, which will be applied to a variety of more specific instances in a larger work. The topics discussed here are chosen, therefore, solely to exemplify the main argument, and are not meant to comprehend the whole field. In many cases, also, the discussion has been kept abstract and schematic, to avoid great marshlands of detail. The reader is begged, once more, to forgive the inaccuracies and imprecisions inevitable in such an account, and to concentrate his critical attention upon the validity of the general principle and its power of explaining how things really are.