Problems of the Sciences

The Organization of Inquiry, by Gordon Tullock. Duke University Press, $5.50 Professor Tullock of the Economics Department at the University of Virginia has attempted a study of the social organization of science, with the purpose of explaining how it is that the work of a large number of individual scientists, each of whom merely pursues his own _ interests, actually forms coherent unities. His understanding of the scientific community is good, and he has taken the novel approach of discussing the scientific enterprise, not in philosophical ‘abstractions, but in terms of the real motives of the people who carry it on. He knows that not all scientists are incandescent with dedication, that many have joined their profession because it gives them status and a congenial sense of identity, and that much of the curiosity which inspires their work is “induced,” i.e., specifieally directed, by the prospect of tangible or intangible social reward. He also understands the little tribalisms of scientists, their status symbols, the various consensuses that operate among them to direct research toward implicitly defined goals. Professor Tullock’s insight is sound and good—certainly every scientist will be able to recognize his professional context—but by no means fresh. Do we really have to be told at length that falsification of discovery is too difficult to be a problem, that information retrieval is difficult enough to be a problem, that scientific creativity depends upon a faculty for pattern recognition, that the proliferation of journals ensures that novel or revolutionary work gets a better chance for publication, that future discoveries in science cannot be anticipated, etc., etc.?

It is unfortunate that Professor Tullock did not choose a more popular medium for his work. He has little to say to the professional scholars who will be reached by a slender volume from the Duke University Press, while his understanding of the extent to which scientists are self-educated and his deeply perceptive encouragement of amateurism in science should be made available to a wider audience. The mass magazines have still not gotten rid of the habit of investing scientists with an aura of sacral nonsense. We have been told, for example, that R. P. Feynman is “human”’ because he likes to play the bongo drums, and again that when Lev Landau was nearly killed in an automobile accident even brilliant physicists ran errands and carried blood plasma (as if they shouldn’t?)—and it is difficult to imagine that the victims of this drivel would not be grateful for Professor Tullock’s perspective, which is neither cynical nor iconoclastic, but realizes that science is a very human (sometimes all-too-human) endeavor itself.

WH

About the Author

Wayne J. Holman Iii

Featured Tags

Manage following

Science

Philosophy

The Organization of Inquiry, by Gordon Tullock. Duke University Press, $5.50 Professor Tullock of the Economics Department at the University of Virginia has attempted a study of the social organization of science, with the purpose of explaining how it is that the work of a large number of individual scientists, each of whom merely pursues his own _ interests, actually forms coherent unities. His understanding of the scientific community is good, and he has taken the novel approach of discussing the scientific enterprise, not in philosophical ‘abstractions, but in terms of the real motives of the people who carry it on. He knows that not all scientists are incandescent with dedication, that many have joined their profession because it gives them status and a congenial sense of identity, and that much of the curiosity which inspires their work is “induced,” i.e., specifieally directed, by the prospect of tangible or intangible social reward. He also understands the little tribalisms of scientists, their status symbols, the various consensuses that operate among them to direct research toward implicitly defined goals. Professor Tullock’s insight is sound and good—certainly every scientist will be able to recognize his professional context—but by no means fresh. Do we really have to be told at length that falsification of discovery is too difficult to be a problem, that information retrieval is difficult enough to be a problem, that scientific creativity depends upon a faculty for pattern recognition, that the proliferation of journals ensures that novel or revolutionary work gets a better chance for publication, that future discoveries in science cannot be anticipated, etc., etc.?

It is unfortunate that Professor Tullock did not choose a more popular medium for his work. He has little to say to the professional scholars who will be reached by a slender volume from the Duke University Press, while his understanding of the extent to which scientists are self-educated and his deeply perceptive encouragement of amateurism in science should be made available to a wider audience. The mass magazines have still not gotten rid of the habit of investing scientists with an aura of sacral nonsense. We have been told, for example, that R. P. Feynman is “human”’ because he likes to play the bongo drums, and again that when Lev Landau was nearly killed in an automobile accident even brilliant physicists ran errands and carried blood plasma (as if they shouldn’t?)—and it is difficult to imagine that the victims of this drivel would not be grateful for Professor Tullock’s perspective, which is neither cynical nor iconoclastic, but realizes that science is a very human (sometimes all-too-human) endeavor itself.