Cultural & critical perspectives of science

Journal

April 1999

It is always been the apparently innocuous questions that are the hardest to answer. What is truth? What is meaning? Why have you chosen to take this course and what were your initial impressions and expectations?

To be brutally honest, I initially chose this ‘Critical and Cultural Perspectives in Science’ because I liked the title and found the prospectus description intriguing.

Don’t worry though, I am not that superficial.

I did make a point of attending the initial lectures of each of the available options, in order to get a truer sense of the prospectus blurb. I found this to be very beneficial and, in fact, changed two of my options. ‘Critical and Cultural’ was not one of them. It sounded good and lived up to my expectations. Mind you, probably the lasting impression of the ‘week one’ lecture was that Dr. Helena Sheehan would be a hard taskmaster.

The obvious effort put into the multimedia presentations, the expansive reading list and, indeed Dr. Sheehan’s CV suggested that absolutely no shirking would be tolerated (For the benefit of those following in our footsteps, please note that she is not so bad).

Well this is a good start. Pulling up a chair into the semi-circle, a warm felling of deep-rooted familiarity envelopes me. Television my old friend, how are you?

I am in no doubt that the cathode ray tube is responsible for the present condition of my eyesight (Left —3.0, Right —3.25). I am also in no doubt it was TV that duped into thinking that science was the career for me. A diet of Horizon, Tomorrows World, and any science-fiction series you care to mention, ensured that seven out of my ten choices on my CAO form had ‘SBC.’ in the title.

And so with out-stretched feet, I sat with my classmates to watch and evaluate Life Story, the BBC’s dramatisation of the race to elucidate the structure of DNA. Yeah, sure, no problem.

Naturally I had already seen it, and indeed, I was looking forward to seeing it again.

The BBC has a tradition of making good drama out of subject matter that other companies would not touch with a barge pole. I suspect the nature and size of their funding has given them license to do so. Everything considered though, the Double Helix story was never boring to begin with. It was after all, the significant scientific discovery of the second half of this century — and was the first entry in a dictionary of household terms we call biotechnology. Certainly most people who know anything about biotechnology would be intrigued to see how it all happened.

And the BBC tells it very well. Skillful editing, essential dialogue and compelling incidental music combine to make a scientific thriller. Observing the characters, it is obvious that a battle of opposites is taking place. Not so much a battle of the sexes (I would never label men and women opposites anyway), but indeed one of opposing ideologies.

I see Crick and Watson coming from Plato’s school of thought. They seek to find the truth through the use of truth and reason. Rosalind Franklin, it seems to me, represents Aristotelian logic. She is methodical, cautious and relies only on what on her senses. With the help of Rosalind’s stubbornness and the men’, shall we say skullduggery, Plato wins the day.

Most of us know that 99.9999% of the time, modern scientific knowledge chugs along with Aristotle at the helm. Then again it is always the one in a million cases that make good stories.

A.N. Whitehead (1861-1947) famously suggested that all of Western philosophy ultimately consists of no more than footnotes to Plato. Less famously, I will suggest that all of Western philosophy, insofar is it relates to scientific knowledge, is based on an Aristotelian/Platonic dichotomy.

To quote Basil Faulty (c. 1976), I am sure this is "bleeding obvious" to anyone who has bothered to read this diary. However, part of the purpose of this journal is to express "how your ideas have changed or developed" (H. Sheehan, 1998). The observation I made in the opening paragraph is something I have not read elsewhere. As far as I’m concerned, it’s completely original. It is also nothing short of a revelation.

Last week we watched ‘Life Story’. With a certain degree of smugness, I recorded in my Week 1 entry how Crick & Watson represented Platonic modes of thought and how Franklin represented Aristotelian method.

Dr Sheehan subsequently burnt my bubble by making a similar observation, except in her case, she uses Descartes instead of Plato and puts Locke in the place of Aristotle. This was part of Dr Sheehan’s explanation of philosophy being split into two schools: Rationalism and Empiricism.

To expand on my new observation, it’s interesting to note that in the 2,000 years or so that divides the ancient Greek philosophers from the epistemology of the early Modern era, the same battle of reason vs observation existed.

Of course, science, as with any other form of knowledge has progressed using both reason and observation. Anyone who claims that knowledge can progress with one element, exclusive of the other is being pretentious or naïve, or both.

Descartes, for instance, believed that mathematical thinking or numbers were our only true representation of the world and that our sensory experiences are flawed. Yet, I think his reasoning is flawed. For us all to accept that 2+2=4, we must first, as children in a classroom, observe this fact with physical objects.

Even Kant wasn’t a pure Rationalist. He admitted that he was awoken from his ‘dogmatic slumbers’ by reading Hume. In Philosophy for Beginners, Robinson and Groves observe "Kant proposed that human beings ‘see’ causation in the world because they are constituted that way. He was the first philosopher to show that neither Rationalists or Empiricists had got it quite right".

Science gets it right through using rationalism and empiricism together. This I believe is one of the main points in Life Story. Methodical groundwork with a dash of inspiration gets results.

I should write that on the wall above my study desk.

However, it’s the likes of John Moriarty who will send me scurrying back to my foxhole, hurling abuse over my shoulder.

For the benefit of others reading this diary, John Moriarty, philosopher extraordinaire, chaired a panel on an RTE series entitled The Blackbird and the Bell. The episode in question was called "Science and other ways of knowing". Respected academic Susan McKenna-Lawlor represented Science. Also present were a shaman and a sean nós singer.

The programmes title and panel suggested a good debate on epistemology. No such luck. John took centre stage and went on and on. What exactly he was on about I had no idea. Equally clueless were his fellow panelists who shifted uncomfortably in their seats. He gave me the impression that he had no idea of the history or nature of epistemology.

His apparent confusion was infectious. As I run back to my trench, I see fellow scientists Susan McKenna-Lawlor running in the opposite direction. Susan was making even less sense than John.

What annoyed me even more than McKenna’s inability to speak for the scientists was her inability to speak as a scientist.

I believe that scientific knowledge is the best form of knowledge. O.K. that’s just my opinion. However, anybody who has thought about it will agree that science is a powerful form of knowledge and nobody can deny that is has been the dominant form of the past few centuries.

Susan McKenna could have cited countless examples from history to defend the power and validity of scientific knowledge. Yet, in a reaction, which seemed indicative of the current anti-science trend, she balked. The presence of the philosopher, the sean nós singer and the shaman appeared too much for her. She pretentiously, and unconvincingly, tries to convert science into some form of magic spiritualism.

Looking around the classroom, I could see I was not the only one feeling embarrassed for her. Indeed, her fellow panelists seemed equally embarrassed.

Ironically, it was up to the sean nós singer to defend science. In straightforward language he pointed out its usefulness. I forget his name but he deserved a medal.

Susan McKenna-Lawlor on the other hand, I would have shot at dawn for lacking in ‘moral fibre’.

Science is a bigot. There is no doubt about it. Like so many of the world’s religious, social and intellectual structures, it discriminates on the grounds of race, gender and class.

In my journal entry of week 1, I admitted to being, at one stage in my life, a chronic television addict. (I have since kicked the habit and am feeling very much better, thank you). Those days are a bit of a blur now, but one memory still endures. It is the ritual tolling of the angeles bells (at 6pm on RTE1) which is there to remind us that however addictive TV is, religion is still the true opium of the masses.

In spite of my young age, I was still mindful of the iconic misrepresentation that was perpetuated every tea-time. If Jesus was from the Middle East, why was he white?

However, I quite happily sat through my formal education in the belief that science was white. Not so much that I refused to believe it could be any other colour. It’s just that I was never challenged to think about it. As I progress through this M.Sc., I am becoming more convinced that alternative perspectives (history, sociology, feminism etc.) should be a compulsory part of any science course, be it third or second level.

Anyhow, back to my television watching and more specifically back again to Week 1 and Life Story. I am probably abusing this film as a reference point, but refer to it again I must, as this is important.

I praised the BBC for this skillful and compelling reconstruction of the Double Helix story. This praise still stands but I am disappointed in their misrepresentation of Rosalind Franklin.

It seems that in their efforts to construct a story of opposing wills and ideology, they grossly distorted Franklin’s character. In a book entitled ‘Nobel Prize Woman in Science’, I read of (and saw) a different Rosalind who was beautiful, stylish, sociable and fun loving. The book also tells of her foibles such as her inability to make small talk, and to complete prioritising of her career over her personal life.

What the BBC appeared to have done is to draw on her ‘bad points’ and to constitute these as her complete character. This is more like the ‘Rosy’ of Watson’s Double Helix. Franklin, after her ‘defeat’, became very good friends with Francis Crick and his wife. She never warmed to Watson and referred to him as ‘that horrible American’. I met Watson when I was an undergraduate at the University of Limerick. Being the treasurer to the Chemical society (Yeah, yeah), I had to sit through his lecture (Front row, of course) and then make small talk over a few glasses of bad wine. And all, I can say is that I’m right with you Rosy.

I raised the point that the books focus is on the people, rather than their work and that the book gives a much broader (and balanced) profile. Concluding, Rob and I both agreed that the BBC should take their place in the long queue, headed by Watson, and marked ‘Apologies to Rosalind: Q here’.

It is a failing of the Irish education system that philosophy is not more widely available as a subject, at secondary school level. Asking my French housemate whether he knew much about philosophy, he shrugged his shoulders in typical Gallic fashion and with a hint of indignation said, "Why of course, I did for my ‘bac’ (French equivalent of Leaving Certificate). Why of course.

Philosophy as a subject is vast. Certainly too vast to get a proper appreciation of within the confines of this masters. Having said that, I very much appreciated its inclusion on the course. It not only was one of the more interesting perspectives in science, it was for me, a much needed slap in the face for a dozing intellect.

Philosophy in itself though, seems quite dangerous. Thinking is fine, ideas better still, but philosophy has the annoying habit of labelling ideas. It categorises them and sets them in stone. It plonks a little flag on top, around which like-minded people gather and hurl abuse at other idiots huddled around ‘their’ flag.

Marxism or more to the point, the writings of Marx and Engels are probably some of the more intelligent and considered pieces of philosophy the world has seen. Previous philosophies it seems were redundant academic exercises of the idle rich. Other philosophies just seemed to offer their interpretation of the world. Marx and Engel offered a way to change it — and that’s why it was so dangerous

A quote from Marx later on in the book was quite telling: "Marx was once provoked to say, ‘All I know that I, at least, am no Marxist’".

A great irony about Marxism was much as it denounced it; it was like many other philosophies, idealism. Hegel, that most arrogant of philosophers, tried to produce a system of logic that he could fit nature into, and subsequently produce the answers to the universe. I admire Marx and Hegel for inverting his dialectic so that "consciousness does not determine life but life determines consciousness". Marxism embraced the concept of this inverted dialectic and did so with a vengeance. Everything was of a dialectic nature. In my dealing with Marxism, the ‘d’ word was mentioned so often it lost all meaning. I would suggest that such was the sophistication and development of the philosophy, it became so technical and jargon-laden that it alienated its own ‘proletariat’!

By the way readers, the nature of the dialectic is (as simply as I can phrase my understanding of it) that a new idea will in turn generate its own counter idea and so on in a process that will produce the absolute ideal solution. What Russia became under Stalin was a mockery of this.

Yet another contradiction is that in Marxist philosophy of science was "that nature had its history in time, that all living things underwent incessant molecular change, that there was no fixity of species". Yet Soviet states did not evolve, they were borne of bloody revolution. The ones that survived that became so fixed and systemic, they fell victim to their own stagnation.

The history of Marxism, it seems, is a study in irony.

Thinking if fine, ideas are better still: just don’t entrust them to people.

Is there a science war? Not really, but there is perhaps, a phony war (I believe this war is a minor symptom, and not a major cause, of the decline of science). The manifestations of this ideological scrap were not obvious to me as an undergraduate, or as a commercial laboratory chemist. It was only upon entering the MSc. in Science Communication, that I became aware of this most academic of skirmishes.

During the first term of this course, my classmates and I were also introduced to perspectives of science, which came from outside of science. Some of these perspectives were met with hostility from much of the class. The Armagh lecture hall, it seemed, was a microcosm of what appeared to be going on in the big bad world of academia — much ado about nothing. I for one could not understand the hostility, but was in fact quite taken by these new standpoints.

One particularly interesting view came from sociology. While sociological ideas on science are far from watertight, they still, I believe have something to contribute to science. It was with this in mind, I volunteered my services to defend Harry Collins for the Science Wars radio debate.

Collins believed that scientific knowledge could be expressed as a dichotomy. On the one hand there was the algorithmic model. This is the belief that science can be laid out in a cut and dry set of rules or instructions. On the other is what Collins called the enculturational model. Here scientific knowledge is much more complex and value-laden, because it is tied to history, culture and human nature. Collins believes the latter is the true model.

Drawing on the work of the Austrian philosopher, Wittgenstein, Collins also introduced the concept of tacit knowledge. This is knowledge, which cannot be acquired through instruction, but only through experience. The skill needed to ride a bike is a clear example of this.

In our class, the loudest voices against Collins dismissed the above observations as obvious and trivial. Whether these same people believed what they were saying is a matter of conjecture. I remain convinced, however, that the vast majority of practicing scientists today are woefully unaware of the true nature of scientific knowledge, and instead live in their own little world of Mertonian ideals.

In his book, Changing Order, Collins gives some very full and descriptive observational accounts of scientific practice. In my opinion, he does not pontificate, but instead lets the accounts speak for themselves. His chapter detailing the struggle to replicate the TEA laser emphatically exposes the problem of knowledge transfer, while the ‘Experimenters Regress’ chapter is a litany of Mertonian norm violations.

These accounts of Collins’ struck a chord with my own experiences of laboratory life. The head of the quality control department wanted me to write an instruction document for a particularly complex and temperamental instrument, which would cover every eventuality. I implored him on the impossibility of this task. My pleas fell on deaf ears. I never finished that document. Former colleagues tell me, a year later, that it is still not finished.

At the time of this radio debate, the current edition of Nature, ran a major article entitled ‘ Science Comes to Terms with Fraud’ - Again an example from the real world that shows science as an imperfect social construct. The anti-Collins voices in the class, as far as I am aware, have never worked in a commercial laboratory or similar situation. At the risk of having a fatwa issued against me, I suggest that these same individuals would be less hostile to Collins and his ilk, if they had worked in a real laboratory environment.

In the broader picture, there are those who felt that the Sociology of Scientific Knowledge (SSK) was a misconception from the very start. These people, I believe were just showing the territorial nature of the human psyche. They did not like the idea of ‘them’ sticking their nose into ‘our’ business. This childish reaction culminated in the paranoid Higher Superstition by Gross and Levitt. Their scattergun tactics made no contribution to sensible debate.

A more interesting, but still somewhat immature pot shot at sociology was the Sokal Hoax. On the basis of this singular event, it was declared that science is indeed the best form of knowledge — an argument upheld by the opposition in this radio debate. Wherefore art thou inductive reasoning?

In the introduction of Science Wars, Andrew Ross highlights a possible criticism of the SSK. Instead of, as some scientists might claim, saying too much, the sociologists have not said enough, "In opting for a program of social realism that eschewed value-laden moralistic critique, SSK’s passive explanation of science’s social construction met with charges of political quietism". This seems a no-win situation. I believe, however, that the passive approach was the correct one. The time for a more sophisticated model will be when there is more formal, mature and constructive debate between all the disciplines, not just sociology and science.

The SSK is indeed in its infancy. It stands to reason, therefore, that the work of Collins and others has many gaps and shortcomings. A seam of naiveté and tactlessness runs throughout his work. In The Golem, a book he co-wrote with fellow sociologist, Trevor Pinch, he uses the metaphor of the Golem for science. The Golem is a mythical Jewish figure, a clumsy but powerful giant, with ‘truth’ written on its forehead. The great irony here is that as powerful as the metaphor was, in the end it was clumsy and offensive. It was bound to draw the ire of scientists.

One of the contributors to Science Wars is the feminist Hilary Rose. Although sympathetic to Collins and Pinch’s political project, she does have a problem with the lack of reflexivity in their work, "Thus while they show us the scientists actively socially constructing their ‘neat and tidy myths,’ we are invited to believe that C&P’s own sociological accounts of science are real."

She also quite rightly deplores their use of the word myth to describe the methodical and painstaking work of laboratory practice.

Throughout her essay (My Enemy’s Enemy) she criticises Collins for his sexist tendencies. This is not the first piece of feminist text I have come across, which could be regarded as over-analytical. Collins is no more sexist than the rest of us, man or woman. Indeed, to his credit, in Changing Order he reproduces the chauvinistic comments of one particular scientist. He does not comment on it directly, but his disapproval is, arguably, inferred.

The opposition got no argument from me when they stated that science is the best form of knowledge. I agree wholeheartedly. This does not mean, however, that it is above criticism or beyond reproach. Collins and the rest of the SSK are carrying out valuable and pioneering work, which with a bit maturity and intelligence from all concerned should benefit science greatly.

Last week, I pondered if there really was a science way. There are so many points of view with overlapping, as well contradictory ideas, it seems not so much like Armageddon, but rather more a over of Babel.

This was reflected in the radio debate. Any notional ideas of sides in this debate simply fell apart before the ‘initial positions’ were complete. I found myself ideologically closest to my ‘arch-enemy’. Cormac, the sokal apologist. My team-mate Elsa found herself at odds with everybody, including Dr Sheehan, the rest of the class and me (though I remained silent). Like any Frenchwoman, she resolutely stuck her ground — may the rest of us take note.

The science and religion debate I believe came unhinged at an even earlier stage. "Where?" I hear you ask. Well the clue, as Terry Wogan used to say,is in the question.

Science and religion: compatible or contradictory? This question certainly would have gravity in the US where the religious right is infiltrating the education system, hell bent on a return to the Dark Ages. The days of the Catholic Church running this country, hand in iron-hand with the government, have recently but empathetically ended.

What is left is a generation apathetic to the church. An apathy, I felt, that was very much present in the DWR studio. Nobody simply seemed to care.

Science & Religion: compatible or contradictory? Neither Terry, just irrelevant.

PS For an Irish context, a more relevant question would be, say, a retrospective one on whether the church had any influence, good or bad, on science education. May I suggest this for next year.

PPS I received a fine science education at the St Louis Secondary School, Kiltimagh, Co Mayo. The nuns relinquished control of the school a few years after I left. The town is a smaller place for their departure.

"Of what we cannot speak, thereof we should remain silent"

Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico — Philosophicus, 1922

"Unless it’s part of your assessment"

Gavin Clabby, Critical and Cultural Persectives on Science Journal, 1999