IT IS probably the most influential book on the nature of science of the past
century. The Structure of Scientific Revolutions by Thomas Kuhn
(1922-1996) has sold nearly a million copies in 20 languages since it was
published in 1962. It is the one philosophy book that most scientists, as well
as many in the arts, will have heard of.
Kuhn鈥檚 impact on our understanding of science is undeniable. His key
concepts鈥攑aradigm, revolution, gestalt switch and
incommensurability鈥攁re now part of popular scientific discourse. Before,
people thought of science as a highly individualistic enterprise, driven by
heroic figures such as Galileo and Darwin, and challenging the norms of society.
But since the book was published, researchers and public alike have viewed
science as a set of apolitical and self-absorbed specialist communities, which
considered radical changes of direction only under the most extreme
conditions.
Kuhn鈥檚 ideas worked well when scientific research was protected by the
鈥渨elfare-warfare state鈥� that characterised the cold war era. In this period,
scientists regulated their activities by peer review without interfering in the
way the state used their products and findings. However, his model is now
outdated.
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The end of the cold war has led to the gradual diminishing of state funding
for research, and this has exposed Kuhn鈥檚 specialist communities鈥攚hich he
called paradigms鈥攖o a variety of political, economic and even religious
forces that are sceptical of peer review. Thanks in part to Kuhn, who maintained
that science had no goals beyond those of particular paradigms, scientists have
had nothing very effective to say in reply.
At first glance, the significance of Kuhn鈥檚 book is puzzling. It presents a
model of scientific change drawn exclusively from the physical sciences in
Europe over the 300-year period from the founding of the Royal Society to the
end of classical quantum mechanics in the 1920s. So why did it become so popular
in the arts and sciences, and why do contemporary researchers still find it
inspiring?
Puzzle solving
When the book came out, many natural scientists could relate their everyday
experience to the puzzle-solving 鈥渘ormal science鈥� that lies at the centre of
Kuhn鈥檚 account. Kuhn seemed to be saying that you had only to agree the course
of inquiry and stick to it in a methodologically rigorous manner to be in
pursuit of normal science. That was the essence of his notion of paradigm. His
concept of revolutions in science proved harder to grasp, for unlike most
political revolutions, his scientific ones are never planned. Rather, they occur
when normal science runs up against its own limitations.
Kuhn鈥檚 theory was, inevitably, born of his age. He belonged to a generation
of physicists who grew up during the Second World War. All of them had entered
science to practise natural philosophy by more exact means. However, they were
sorely disappointed by the scaled-up 鈥渂ig science鈥濃�攚hose ends were purely
military or industrial rather than pure inquiry.
Kuhn was more fortunate than his contemporaries in that he enjoyed the
patronage of the president of Harvard University, James Bryant Conant. A chemist
by training, Conant had been the scientific administrator of the American atomic
bomb project. He gave Kuhn a job teaching the nature of science to nonscientists
who were destined for top posts in business, law and politics, and who would
increasingly be called upon to make decisions affecting the course of science.
Unsurprisingly, Kuhn dedicated his book to Conant, whom he deemed to be the
brightest person he knew.
Conant realised that the use of the atomic bomb to end the war had
exaggerated people鈥檚 hopes and fears about science. He believed that scientific
research would flourish only if it were free of this emotional burden. His
strategy was to have people look at 鈥渂ig science鈥� through the lens of the
鈥渓ittle science鈥� that prevailed in the time Galileo, Newton and Einstein. Thus,
the essence of science was to be found not in impressive gadgetry and
magic-bullet cures, but in its highly focused form of pure inquiry. In his book
Kuhn turned Conant鈥檚 vision into a general theory of science.
In the decades following the war, Kuhn鈥檚 theory appeared to fit the picture
of how science worked. But since the end of the cold war and the demise of grand
military and industrial projects, it is less relevant. Instead of backing
singularly grand designs, the state is devolving its investment in science to
private interests and local bodies. Contrast the failure of the superconducting
supercollider, which depended on American taxpayers鈥� money, with the success of
the human genome project, in which private investment was crucial. This shift
has forced scientists to justify their research in more popularly acceptable
terms, which in turn has led them to identify increasingly with investors rather
than with their fellow scientists.
Thus, political and economic forces can today divide scientists in a way that
was unthinkable a generation ago. The debate over the implications of the
mapping of the human genome are a case in point. Will the medical products and
techniques that result from it be available to everyone, or will they be
restricted to those who can pay? This constitutes an identity crisis for
science. The continued appeal to Kuhn鈥檚 model obscures the issues, as it cloaks
technical expertise in a communal rhetoric that no longer reflects how
scientists relate to each other or to society as a whole.