The Code of Science

Studium Generale 23 (1970) 941-962

The Code of Science Analysis and Some Reflections on Its Future ANDRE

F. COURNAND and HARRIET ZUCKERMAN

Studium Generale 23 (1970) 941-962

The Code of Science * Analysis and Some Reflections on Its Future ANDRE F. COURNAND"~' and HARRIET ZUCKERMAN""" Cette morale (de la science) n'a pas eu ses theoriciens, mais elle a eu ses artisans. Elle n'a pas exprime son ideal, mais elle l'a servi: il est implique dans l'exis­ tence meme de la science.! One signal feature of the twentieth century is the growing involvement of science in social life. The fruits of science are evident everywhere as are its destructive consequences, so much so that science is in the same breath credited with profound contributions to man's achievements and to his predicament. What is less often noticed is that science itself is being changed in the process. At no time wholly isolated from the social context, the scientific community has vastly multiplied its linkages with the government, the economy and the military in this century. These linkages, reflecting the growing effectiveness of science in controlling the natural world, have affected both the organization of scientific work and its culture in ways that have received little attention and analysis. 2 This interplay between science and society is complex. In the past, the "rules of the scientific game" enabled science to flourish. Now it is questionable whether the culture of science and the distinctive code governing the behavior of investigators can survive. The increasing interdependence of science and other social institutions may create pressures for change and ultimately alter the whole scientific enterprise. It may be fruitful then to approach this problem ". Expanded version of presentations at meetings of the Frensham Group (initiated and sponsored by Oscar van Leer; d. Foreword by Paul A. Weiss, p. 905). ':.* Andre F. Cournand, Professor Emeritus and Special Lecturer, Department of Medi­ cine, College of Physicians and Surgeons, Columbia University, New York, N.Y. 10032 U.S.A. *".* Harriet A. Zuckerman, Assistant Professor of Sociology, Columbia University, New York, N.Y. 10027 U.S.A. Both authors are Faculty Associates of the Institute for the Study of Science in Human Affairs (LS.S.H.A.) of Columbia University. 1 A. Bayet, La morale de la science, Paris: 1931, p. 43. No theoretician has dealt with the ethos of science; it has only had its servants. Its ideal has never been expressed but it has served science; it is implied in the very being of science. 2 See the instructive paper by Norman Storer, The coming changes in American science, Science 142 (25 October 1963) 464-467. Since we focus on the impact of society on the culture of science we have not commented on the work of Marx, Bernal, Haldane, and others who emphasize the distinctive effects of science on the social order, rather than the reverse. 63 Studium Generale 23

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by examining the culture of science in some detail and by identifying the ways in which its components affect scientific work. Beyond this, an additional question deserves consideration. In the past, this culture has favored the devel­ opment of science and has helped to dampen conflict between scientists. Might it also find application in modern society which in its emphasis on knowledge and merit is becoming more and more like the institution of science? Ideally, the analysis we propose should be the task of one who is both scientist and student of society, one interested in the social impact of science and on the effects of social contexts on science. In the absence of the ideal investigator, this inquiry has been the product of a physiologist (A. C.) who has spent a lifetime in research, and a sociologist of science (H. Z.). In a year­ long conversation and collaboration we surprisingly often converged in our perspectives on science, its distinctive characteristics and the directions it may follow in the future. I. Two Conceptions of the Code of Science

We take as our starting point two formulations} of the code of science, the one by a sociologist, Robert K. Merton, and the other by the physiologist who is one of the authors of this paper. Merton, first discussing the problem almost thirty years ago, wrote that the culture of science has four principal prescriptive components: (1) Universalism: Scientific work is to be assessed on no other criteria than its merits or significance. (2) Organized Skepticism: Judgement of all scientific contributions should be suspended until "the facts are at hand." (3) Disinterestedness: Commitment to the advancing of scientific knowledge rather than of personal self-interest ('profit') should be the basis for decisions in scientific work. (4) Communism: The scientific community has rights to knowledge produc­ ed by its members, who individually may not limit access to their products.

Since this now classic paper4 was published, Merton has periodically clarified :3 Robert K. Merton, Science and the Democratic Social Structure, in: Social Theory and Social Structure. New York: The Free Press 1957, pp. 550-561. First published in 1942. ­ Andre F. Cournand, The Code of Behavior of Scientists, presented at meetings of the Frensham Group 1967-1968. Hereafter this will be referred to as the Frensham formulation. For a useful treatment of how science and its culture differ from other fields of scholarship, see John Ziman, Public Knowledge, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1968. 4 By definition, classics evoke response and retort. Some papers and monographs discuss­ ing the Merton formulation are: B. Barber, Science and the Social Order, Glencoe: The Free Press 1952; N. Storer, The Social System of Science, New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston 1966; W. Hagstrom, The Scienttfic Community, New York: Basic Books 1965; N. Kaplan, Sociology of Science, in: R. E. L. Faris, cd., Handbook of Modern Sociology, Chicago: Rand McNally 1964. pp. 852-881.

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the meaning of one or another of these prescriptions, but their essential sub­ stance has remained unmanged. 5 Viewing the problem from an entirely different perspective whim comes from having been a scientific investigator rather than a student of the behavior of scientists, one of us emphasized, in the Frensham formulation: (1) Intellectual Integrity and Objectivity: Scientists are obliged to appro am the natural world and their own investigations of it with as mum objectivity and care as they can summon. (2) Tolerance: Since it is always possible for new ideas to seem implausible at first acquaintance, it is wise to be tolerant of them and to see whether their factual bases appear to fall within the boundaries of sound science. Tolerance is also expressed through dissent so long as mutual respect is maintained between dissenters. (3) Doubt of Certitude: Following a long philosophical tradition whim holds that truth emerges from the confrontation of contraries, scientists must approam what is generally considered certain with an ever-questioning mind. The tension so created is one of the mainsprings in the pursuit of knowledge. (4) Recognition of Error: The systematic application of doubt is apt to reveal errors whim must be recognized and acknowledged publicly. (5) Unselfish Engagement: Scientists should be motivated by the desire to extend knowledge and not by the wish for personal gain or by the desire to foster the primacy of anyone intellectual perspective. (6) Sense of Belonging: Scientists should conceive of their work as being part of a larger enterprise, and of themselves as joined to their scientific col­ leagues through collective contributions to this enterprise. (7) Recognition of Priorities: Scientists are required to recognize as scrupu­ lously as possible other investigators' priorities in discovery. These formulations of the code of science or the culture of science differ in emphasis and scope and reflect somewhat different definitions of science and orientations to it. The Frensham formulation focusses on the proper behavior of scientists in pursuit of the goal of science: "The comprehension (of) the world and ourselves."6 The sociological perspective, however, focusses on the insti­ tution of science: maracteristic methods by means of whim knowledge is certi­ fied, the stock of accumulated knowledge stemming from application of these

5 Merton's most recent discussions of these matters appear in Priorities in Scientific Discovery: A Chapter in the Sociology of Science, American Sociological Review 22 (Decem­ ber 1957), 635-659; The Matthew Effect in Science, Science 159 (5 January 1968) 55-63; and The Behavior Patterns of Scientists, American Scientist 57 (Spring 1969) 1-23 and American Scholar 38 (Spring 1969) 197-225. 6 See Karl Popper, Introduction to the Logic of Scientific Discove1'Y. London: Hutchin­ son 1959. p. 48. 63"

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methods, and the cultural values and mores governing the activities termed scientific.7 The Frensham formulation is essentially individualistic; science is seen from the point of view of the working investigator who needs guidance in his research activity and in his associations with colleagues. In this sense, the culture of science can be seen as an operational rather than an ideal code of action. Merton, by contrast, adopts an institutional orientation, one that focusses on the collectivity of scientists. From this perspective, the culture of science is mainly comprised of an ethos, "(an) affectively toned complex of values and mores which is held to be binding ... These imperatives transmitted by precept and example and reinforced by sanctions are in varying degrees internalized by the scientist, thus fashioning his scientific conscience, .. ,"8 Despite these differences, the two views overlap in one important respect. Both are held to be functional for the advancement of science rather than to have intrinsic moral or ethical value,9 For our purposes, the decisive difference between functional and ethical codes consists in the value attached to the component prescriptions. In func­ tional codes, rules are pragmatically related to ends or purposes of behavior and are valued to the extent that they facilitate the achievement of these ends. Ethical prescriptions, on the other hand, are believed to have intrinsic rather than instrumental value; they readily become ends in themselves. This fundamental difference is apt to be blurred in reality and, in fact, the code of science has acquired moral and ethical characteristics. When violation of a code evokes anger and indignation, one can be reasonably certain that the code has taken on a certain moral significance. Anyone who would doubt that this is the case for science need only remember the response of the world scien­ tific community to the systematic downgrading of modern genetics by the Soviet regime and its substitution of Lysenkoism. Aside from humanitarian concerns for the welfare of dissenting scientists, cherished beliefs about the autonomy of science were clearly being flouted. Although the ethical aspects of the code of science will impede change, the fact that science is so deeply implicated in a rapidly changing society leads us to expect that some components of the code will be altered. To the extent that changes can be demonstrated to facilitate the extension of knowledge or at least to be consistent with it, members of the scientific community will be motivated to accept them without much resistance. Other changes, however, may occur in the code of science with only minimal consent of the majority of the scientific community, especially when social values are given priority over scientific values by the society from which research draws its support. 7 Merton, Science and the Democratic Social Structure, op. cit., p. 551. 8 Merton, ibid., p. 551. Some have suggested that the ethos of science is a highly idealized view of what scientists actually do, but Merton contends that scientists do subscribe to these values and try to conform to the normative prescriptions which flow from them. 9 This is not to say that scientists are insensitive to social values; instead, as scientist­ citizens, they are sometimes deeply concerned with them.

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To consider whether science as we know it will survive it is necessary to comment on the main features of modern science and how they are related to its culture, and then to assess the extent to which each prescription is under attack and the probability that it may change. II. Science: An Open System

In contrast to the science of the Greeks, modern science is thought to be an intellectual system which is infinitely open. By and large, the Greeks believed that truth could be discovered and that once discovered it would remain for­ ever absolute. Since the seventeenth century, however, science has sought increasingly close approximations to the truth rather than final answers. This conception is expressed in the view that claims to scientific truth are capable only of disproof but not of validation. The uncertain status of scientific knowl­ edge is underscored by Richard Feynman, one of the most imaginative of contemporary physicists. "A very great deal more truth can be known," he remarked, "than can be proved."lo The conviction that science is an open system is often associated with an "accumulationist" position on the growth of science, one which treats the extension of scientific knowledge as the gradual incrementing of old knowledge with new. More recently, Thomas Kuhn, philosopher and historian of science, has suggested an alternative conception of scientific development. He holds that knowledge does not accumulate in the strict sense that old truths and new ones coexist peacefully without internal inconsistency. Instead, science changes through a series of revolutions in which old conceptions of nature are discarded and new ones substituted in their place. These revolutions occur when, after a slow process of recognition of weakness in the accepted scientific paradigm, a new paradigm emerges which eliminates these weaknesses. 11 Although Kuhn's formulation has been sharply criticized,12 particularly on the grounds that he provides no firm criteria for judging some ideas to be better, that is, closer to the truth, than others, most modern philosophers of science, whatever their views on the issue of scientific change, agree that science cannot be frozen into a set of orthodox conceptions of nature, but is an ever-changing body of ideas with varying degrees of plausibilityY 10 Subjective elements in knowledge make the matter of provisionality of scientific truth all the more complicated and we shall comment on them in the section titled, Universalism, Objectivity and Intellectual Integrity. 11 T. S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, International Encyclopedia of Unified Science, 1962, v. II. 12 Gerd Buchdahl, A revolutioll in the historiography of science. History of Science 4 (1965) 55-69; Israel Schleffler, Science and Subjectivity, Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill 1967; Leonard Nash, The Nature of the Natural Sciences, Boston: Little Brown 1963. 13 This openness, according to Denis de Rougemont, can be traced to the dualities incorporated into Christian theology which provide for unending reappraisals. Man's

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Ill. Analysis of the Code of Science and the Role of Societal Pressures

This conception of modern science 14 is consistent with both the individualistic and the sociological perspective on the culture of science. With it, we can begin to identify the ways in which the culture of science helps to maintain the scien­ tific enterprise and the directions in which that culture is apt to change. A. Universalism, Objectivity and Intellectual Integrity Investigators are, according to the scientific code, obliged to approach research with as much objectivity as they can muster. The sociological perspective emphasizes the role of objectivity in the evaluation process, while the indi­ vidualistic one focusses on its role in assessing a scientist's own work. Univer­ salism, as we remarked earlier, prescribes that scientific merit is the only relevant criterion in this context. 15 Other standards, such as the investigator's attributes or the extra-scientific implications of the research, have no place in the evaluation of scientific worth. Thus the investigator's nationality, his religion and social standing, and even the excellence of his other research ought not to enter into consideration. The same principle holds in decisions on admission to scientific training or on scien­ tific positions. Universalism, then, serves to maximize the probabilities that new ideas which are correct and significant will be incorporated into the body of science, what­ ever their sources. The same principle improves the chances that talented in­ vestigators, whatever their social origins, will gain admission to the scientific community. The high value placed on universalistic standards in the ethos of science is obviously consistent with, but not the same as, the prescription that individual scientists at work at the bench be as objective as possible in their judgments and decisions. Objectivity and intellectual integrity are necessary commitments of working investigators; they lead to the detection of relations not previously revealed and are prerequisites for the development of new scientific knowledge; they help to uncover weaknesses in generally accepted ideas. They also protect Western Quest, Collection of World Perspectives, v. XIII, New York: Harper and Row 1957, Chapter 7. 14 We have been presenting what is essentially a positivist conception of science rather than a realistic one. This distinction is, however, immaterial as far as our discussion is con­ cerned. 15 It is not easy to define what is meant by scientific worth or scientific merit. One useful attempt to do so includes three components which rarely appear together in a single piece of work; (1) a sufficient degree of plausibility, (2) originality or surprise evoked in experts, and (3) scientific value - a combination of accuracy, systematic importance, and intrinsic interest of the subject matter. See M. Polanyi, The Republic of Science, Minerva 1 (Autum 1962) 54-73 at 57-58.

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researchers who, in their zeal to answer the questions they have posed, are tempted, quite unconsciously, to make nature conform to their hypotheses. These unconscious desires are not the only obstacles to objectivity in science. Much more profound are the issues raised by Eugene Wigner,16 a theoretical physicist. Confronting the problem of reality and consciousness, he concludes that there are two realities, "the reality of my consciousness and the conscious­ ness of all else". Thus, knowledge concerning the world can only be relative to an investigator's consciousness, and this raises serious problems about the philo­ sophical status of objectivity in science. If we accept for the moment that the relations between these dual realities and the objectivity sought by scientists are problematic and are nowhere near resolution, we can turn to what scien­ tists try to do to maximize objectivity. Many procedures included in what is known as "the scientific method" have been adopted not because of their intrinsic value but because of their efficacy. They guard scientists against their own prejudices by constraining them to "stack the cards" against them­ selves. This provides for a degree of self-correction and internal criticism even before the research is exposed to scrutiny by others. But these procedures are not always completely effective and, as a consequence, investigators are obliged to be continuously skeptical, whatever the methods they use. B. Doubt of Certitude and Organized Skepticism The requirement that scientists adopt a position of doubt even toward what they believe is true grows out of a philosophical tradition, according to de Rougemont, traceable to speculation by the Christian fathers on the duality of God and man in Christ. This tradition of thinking by tensions, of entertaining an unthinkable but true polarity, has shaped Western philosophies so that, in turn, it has "determined the problems which our sciences were to take Up."17 Doubt of certitude, itself a wedding of opposites, instructs scientists to be skeptical of what appears to be certain and in so doing to consider "terms which are actually opposite but at the same time really valid and to think of them together ... It is no good seeking a solution by reducing one term to the other.'·l!! The entertaining of paradoxes is not unique to science, nor is it even as new as Christian theology. It can be traced bad{ to the pre-Socratics, where we find Heraclites writing of truth emerging from "the flux of contraries." In another form it emerges in the conception of the three stages of Socratic discourse according to which the third and final stage of knowledge is a synthesis of the first two, of conviction or opinion and of doubt into "true opinion accompanied by reason."19 The idea appears again centuries later, in the work of Nietzsche, 16 17 18 19

Eugene Wigner, Two Kinds of Realit)', The Monist 48 (1964) 248-264.

de Rougemont, op. cit., p. 115.

ibid., p. 115.

Robert A. Rusk, The Doctrine of the Great Educators. London: Macmillan 1962, p. 5.

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who, according to Jaspers, saw science as arising from rationality but at the same time remaining open to the irrational,2° and, of course, in dialectic thought culminating in Marxian analysis. There is, then, a long and disparate tradition of believing that truth emerges from the joining of opposing ideas 21 and of thinking through tensions, which in a modern and most striking form appears in Bohr's commitment to complemen­ tarity and in Delbriick's search for deep paradoxes in nature. 22 This habit of thinking in paradoxes has an attitudinal conterpart in the prescription requiring doubt of certitude. Organized skepticism has attitudinal implications, and it also has implications for the social organization of scientists' activities. What distin­ guishes organized or systematic skepticism from the philosophical position of doubt of certitude is that organized skepticism sanctions the establishment of a variety of institutionalized procedures for evaluation. It is not only that each scientist should, in confronting his own research and the research of his col­ leagues, be prepared to suspend judgement for a time but also skepticism should be applied and serious evaluations made at critical points in the system trough established and well organized procedures for example in the refereeing of scientific papers for publication, in assessing the scientific promise of investigators when fellowships and resources are allocated and in the appointment of scientists to positions at every level of the system. Most scientists would find Merton's analysis of this institutional norm con­ genial. But Michael Polanyi, physical chemist and philosopher, suggests that scientists' actual behavior is alien to the ideal of systematic skepticism, that it operates only under specified conditions and that the extent to which skepti­ cism or doubt is functional for the advancement of knowledge is itself question­ able. Polanyi claims that scientists do not greet any and all contributions with doubt but, instead, that they call into question only those ideas which conflict with the currently accepted view of the subject in question. Moreover, he holds that there is ct • • • no valid heuristic maxim in the natural sciences which would recommend either belief or doubt as a path to discovery."1!3 He has, however, pointed out hat the two attitudes toward research doubt and belief lead to rather different sorts of discoveries. Some discoveries occur because the investi­ 20 See Karl Jaspers, Nietzsche und das Christen tum. Munich: R. Piper, 1947. Quoted in de Rougemont, op. cit., p. 121. 21 The emergence of a new paradigm when anomalies arising Out of the old one cannot be resolved is central to Kuhn's analysis of scientific revolutions, op. cit. 22 Donald Fleming, Emigre Physicists and the Biological Revolution, in: D. Fleming and B. Bailyn, eds., The Intellectual Migration. Cambridge: Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1968, p. 170. Fleming writes that Delbriick's hope that nature's paradoxes would be revealed in biology has not come to fruition. In 1949, Delbriick remarked that biologists had not yet "achieved the desideratum of 'clear paradoxes'''. 23 Michael Polanyi, Personal Knowledge. New York: Harper Torchbooks, 1964. First edition, 1958, p. 277.

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gator believed more deeply than others in the correctness of an idea and pursued it to its fullest implications. Others, the most revolutionary in fact, depend on equally deep doubt of the validity of commonly accepted ideas. The former Polanyi calls "literals" and are exemplified by von Laue, Rutherford, or Franck, and the latter, the "revolutionaries", include Einstein, Planck or Bohr.24 Polanyi's treatment of doubt in science reminds us that institutional norms and values are apt to be partial formulations. As in most departments of social life, men are obliged to follow principles which are not thoroughly consistent. 25 Although working scientists subscribe to the principle of organized skepti­ cism, they also support the principle of authority which countermands it. Author­ ity refers, according to Polanyi, to the presence of "professional standards of science which impose a framework of discipline [and] demand that, in order to be taken seriously, an investigation should largely conform to the current predominant beliefs about the nature of things, while allowing that in order to be original, it may to some extent go against these. Thus, the authority of scientific opinion enforces the teachings of science in general, for the very purpose of fostering their subversion in particular points." 26 Authority is a central feature of scientific life. Investigators of every rank know that all contributions cannot be taken equally seriously, but rather that the work that is consistent with currently accepted ideas is more apt to prove useful in subsequent research. This is not the result of pettiness and unwillingness to entertain anything but the commonplace; it is a mechanism for protecting science from crackpots and the producers of trivia. The principle of authority is, by and large, an efficient criterion for assessing new contributions; it auto­ matically screens out work which appears to be irrelevant or wrong-headed. Moreover, since the demands on the evaluation system are heavy now and becoming even more so as science grows, it is no great tragedy, Polanyi believes, to overlook an occasional work of excellence if that means avoiding the derail­ ment caused by the entry of error into the system of communicationY Polanyi underscores his point by accepting the propriety of rejecting his own theory of adsorption. Since his work did not fit in with prevailing physical and chemi­ cal ideas, it was, he agrees, perfectly correct for Einstein and Bohr to have 24 Michael Polanyi, Commentary, in: A. C. Crombie, ed., Scientific Change: Historical Studies in the Intellectual, Social and Technical Conditions for Scientific Discovery and Tech­ nical Invention from Antiquity to the Present, New York: Basic Books 1963, pp. 378-379. 25 See R. K. Merton, The Ambivalence of Scientists, Bulletin of the Johns Hopkins Hospital 112 (February 1963), 77-97 for an analysis of conflicting norms and values in science. 26 Michael Polanyi, The Republic of Science, op. cit., pp. 58-59. Polanyi intensively examines the role of authority in fostering the development of science in "The Potential Theory of Adsorption," Science 141 (1963) 1010-1013. The significance of authority is underscored in John Ziman, Public Knowledge, op. cit. 27 Polanyi concluded that science would be damaged irreparably if the gates were left entirely open. Norman Storer reaches the same conclusion in The Social System of Science, op. cit., Chapter 6.

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rejected it even though he was later proved correct. Polanyi, in a paper written late in his career suggests that he had not yet established his scientific reputation and probable trustworthiness, and so had not earned the right to have im­ plausible ideas taken seriously. Although Polanyi emphasizes the contribution of authority to scientific development, he pays little attention to the costs it sometimes exacts when, on the basis of authority, scientists are deprived of the fruits of a great discovery, as in the case of the physiologist, Ernest L. Scott, recounted by D. W. Richards. 28 It is common knowledge that questionable proposals by distinguished scientists are less apt to be rejected out of hand than the same ideas put forth by other scientists but it is also the case that once it becomes clear that these ideas cannot be incorporated into prevailing scientific thought, they are simply ignored. Noisy repudiation is generally not necessary. Authority is most apt to be given weight under three sets of circumstances: when the validity or significance of scientific work is ambiguous, when the evaluation system is so over-loaded that careful assessment of contributions, regardless of source, becomes increasingly difficult, and, of course, when those who have very great influence among their colleagues choose to support or reject an idea to the hilt. Thus, authority conserves and supports a kind of scientific orthodoxy. But authority also provides for its own continuous renewal by specifying the rules by which novelty comes to be accepted; in this sense it is different from other orthodoxies. Nevertheless there is still tension between skepticism and doubt on the one hand and authority on the other. It is difficult for scientists to give each of these principles its due; typically, they oscillate between them in their efforts to assess their own and others' contributions. The tension between skepticism and belief, in science as in religion, cannot be easily resolved,29 a fact which emphasizes once again that ambivalence is built into prescriptive systems since no single rule is applicable in all cases. C. Tolerance

If the principle of skepticism requires scientists to withhold judgment until the facts are in, it also requires them to be tolerant of new ideas. To individual investigators who have had the experience of understanding a scientific issue only to find, a short time later, that they do not understand it at all, the prin­ ciple of tolerance should seem well founded. And since sensible scientists know that ideas put forth by the soundest men can be transformed into nonsense and that occasionally the opposite also occurs, novelty should not be rejected prec­ ipitously. At the very least, dissent should be tentative rather than unyielding. 28 D. W. Richards, The effect of pancreatic extract on depancreatized dogs: Ernest L. Scott's Thesis of 1911. Perspectives in Biology and Medicine 10 (1966-1967) 84 ff. 29 It should be evident that the principles of authority and of universalism are not wholly consistent with one another either.

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This view is not entirely compatible with the principle of authority since each calls for a different attitude toward ideas which are inconsistent with prevailing scientific conceptions. As it turns out, choice of the principle to be applied in a given instance rests on the relative priorities given to effective functioning of science on the one hand, and, on the other, to maximizing chances of accepting correct ideas even if that means tentatively accepting incorrect ones as well. Beyond this, one other observation might be in order. If abiding by the prin­ ciple of tolerance has the disadvantage of treating some ideas as true when they are, in fact, otherwise, it has the advantage of minimizing conflict and resentment between colleagues. This may be a small or large price to pay, depending on the nature of the association between scientists, but it should be taken into account in assessing the extent to which this principle affects the functioning of science. D. Recognition of Error Exercising doubt vis-a-vis his own research typically leads a scientist to locate errors he would otherwise have missed. It is necessary, according to the code of science, to recognize error publicly, not because the confession of sins is good for the scientific soul but because it helps scientists to proceed with greater accuracy. Merton, for one, has noted the usefulness of specification of ignorance in getting on with an inquiry, and other observers of science, in a more playful mood, have suggested that a journal of incorrect findings might prevent a good bit of needless effort. It is especially important that another kind of error be recognized: the overzealous acceptance of authority.3o Scientists should periodically be remind­ ed to rely on their own observations. This was as much the case for the great physiologist, Richard Lower, as for contemporary investigators. In 1665, the same year that he became bachelor and doctor in physics, Lower published Diatribae de Febribus, to vindicate his medical mentor, Willis, whose own work had been attacked. Lower, in agreement with Willis, stated quite erroneously that pulmonary arterial and venous blood had the same dark color. Four years later, he corrected his misconception in De Corde: 31 I have spoken elsewhere of the different returns of the two kinds of blood and of the sources from which they are derived. I have also in the same place discussed their colour-variation, and the cause of this very noticeable differ­ ence between them. But as I relied more in this matter on the authority and 30 Humility vis-Ii-vis authority is inimical to the extension of scientific knowledge but intellectual humility is another matter altogether. The most arrogant scientist can be fully aware of his own intellectual failings, more a requisite for good scientific work than personal modesty. 31 Richard Lower, Tractatus de Corde. London: 1669.

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preconceived opinion of the learned Dr. Willis than my own experience, and confused too far the torch of life with its torchbearer; as, too, the lapse of time has now taught me differently, I shall not be lothe to exchange my former view for a better one. It is not my intention to attack the beliefs and opinions of others, or to bring scorn on myself by changing my own, but what is suggested by reason and confirmed by experience carries more weight with me and will always have my allegiance. As Lower himself notes, the point of such confessions is not the parading of one's humility but the reaffirmation of the values of reason and experience. If errors are to be recognized, the purpose of doing so is to advance science rather than to improve the character of scientific investigators. Some of the problems associated with other kinds of disinterested behavior in science will be examin­ ed next. E. Unselfish Engagement and Disinterestedness Perhaps no other institutional value of science is being challenged with the same force as disinterestedness or unselfish engagement. This principle has, as we shall see, multiple connotations, but its essence is clear enough. The desire to extend scientific knowledge should be the prime goal of scientific activity and the pursuit of other ends should be subordinated to it. Although most of what we think of as distinctive of modern science emerged during its flowering in the seventeenth century, the single-minded quest for knowledge is much older than that. The astronomer Eudoxus, Edelstein tells us, exclaimed in debate with the Platonists: "Willingly would I burn to death like Phaethon were this the price for reaching the sun and learning its shape, its size and its substance."32 But however old this commitment, by prohibiting the quest for fame and riches it has for centuries made the scientific life difficult. The requirement of develop­ ing internal or attitudinal conformity as well as external conforming behavior places scientists under considerable strain.33 From the beginning of their careers, investigators are taught the stern discipline of disinterestedness. They are instructed to value the intrinsic satis­ faction of their work more than personal acclaim and more than rewards, 32 Quoted by Ludwig Edelstein in Motives and Incentives for Science in Antiquity, in: A. C. Crombie, ed., Scientific Change: Historical Studies in the Intellectual, Social and Tech­ nical Conditions for Scientific Discovery and Technical Invention from Antiquity to the Present. New York: Basic Books, 1963, p. 35. The materials on which this paper is based are presented in greater detail in Ludwig Edelstein, The Idea of Progress in Classical Antiquity. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1967. Edelstein observes that the Greeks believed that very great effort was required to get nature to yield the truth. A Platonic metaphor expresses it this way, "He who does not learn 'to work like a slave' for the possession of the truth will never reach it." Edelstein, Motives and Incentives . .. p. 31. 33 The long history of concern with fame in science is examined in Merton, Behavior Patterns of Scientists, op. cit.

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honorific and financial. They are asked not to judge scientific contributions according to their social implications but only on their substantive significance. They become painfully aware that new ideas are to be accepted even if they supersede a scientist's life work or render him technologically or intellectually obsolete. It is a demanding set of prescriptions and one that seems unrealistic to some scientists and socially irresponsible to others. Although many scientists are variously uneasy about preserving the norm of disinterestedness, they are responsive to one of its dimensions. It seems clear that scientists accept prohibitions on loyalty to one intellectual perspective and on resistance to new ideas once they receive sufficient confirmation; these are patently functional for science. They require scientists to attend most closely to the evidence nature presents. It should not be surprising that this prescription has supporters even among those who do not conform to other requirements associated with disinterestedness. This is the case because most scientists understand that commitment to the fullest exploration of ideas may involve the overturning of the accepted frame­ work of their fields and their own work along with it. There does not as a consequence seem to be much collective unhappiness with this fact even though it can be an excoriating experience for an individual to see his work invalidated or trivialized. Scientists are nonetheless apt to resist ideas which under­ mine the fundamentals of their science. Lavoisier, for example, was until 1783 no less reluctant to reject the phlogiston theory than were Yang and Lee to overthrow the notion that parity is always conserved. Although there are normative pressures to maintain the intellectual structure of science, these pressures slowly recede after that structure is compellingly challenged. 34 All of this is thoroughly consistent with the conserving aspects of the culture of science even if these pressures appear initially to maintain intellectual loyalties which are not congruent with new knowledge. It should be sufficiently obvious how disinterestedness in general as well as in this particular guise serves to extend certified knowledge for us not to have to explicate it in detail here. And it should be equally clear how pressures issuing from various sectors of the social environment of science - from political, military, and economic interests can interfere with the traditional pursuit of knowledge in science. There are, of course, many instances of pressure to alter scientific findings so as to make them consistent with other ends,35 but these are

34 Some claim that this is not so, that scientists do not in fact change their ideas when presented with new evidence. See T. S. Kuhn, op. cit. 35 Such pressures might take the form of trying to suppress information incompatible with the interests of certain groups, as in the case of the tObacco industry and the carcinogenic properties of tObacco, or they may be more subtle. In any case, scientists employed by special interest groups, by government or business, for example, are apt to feel uneasy no matter what conclusions they reach in their work; this is likely to be so whether the conclusions support their employers' interests or undermine them.

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A. F. Cournand and H. Zu