Thomas Kuhn’s “Pelican Brief”
Harry Hillman Chartrand, November 2002 ©
Heretics - Past Present Future.
a) Psychic Alchemy
1.01 The “Pelican Brief” in the title refers not to the 1993 film starring Julia Roberts and Denzel Washington (Pakula 1993) but to the alembic or vessel of distillation used by medieval alchemists. Within its confines the Magnus Opus was conducted: the Philosopher’s Stone was conjured: a metaphor for transmutation of base metal into gold; psychologically, an archetypal image of wholeness (Sharpe 1991). Matter was transformed from one state and/or substance to another and, according to some, God, trapped in Matter at the moment of Creation, was liberated (Filoramo 1990). With the resulting Stone, the Alchemist, and his Kabbalist cousin who had deciphered the Name of God (Scholem 1969), could create a new world according to his or her own specifications becoming a new demiurge.
1.02 Alchemy, as far as we know, failed. Beginning in the Renaissance, magic and the Magus, according to some, were gradually but progressively rejected (Borchardt 1990). However, Newton (1642-1727) practiced ‘the Art’ until his death and considered his alchemical work more important than that which became the foundation of modern science (Dobbs 1982, 1991). In 1936, Sotheby's in London auctioned off a cache of writings by Newton - journals and personal notebooks deemed of no scientific value. The winning bidder was John Maynard Keynes who, after perusing the papers, noted on the tercentenary of Newton's birth, that Newton, the supreme figure of seventeenth century science, was not the first of the Enlightenment but rather “the Last of the Magicians” and “the last wonder-child to whom the Magi could do sincere and appropriate homage.” (quoted in Thorndike 1953, 704). It is interesting that Shackle refers to the Keynesian process of estimating the marginal efficiency of capital as “psychic alchemy” perhaps recognizing Keynes’ interest in Newton’s hidden works (Shackle 1967, 129). What was the fascination?
1.03 According to Carl Jung the fascination lay not with the physical processes occurring within the Pelican but rather in the projection onto those processes of the unconscious content of the alchemist’s own psyche (Fig. 1). As the prima materia was transformed through various mystical stages of development, the psychic structure of the alchemist underwent a parallel transformation. Jung used this finding to develop his concept of ‘individuation’, i.e., the process of psychological differentiation, having for its goal the development of the individual personality (Sharpe 1991).
Source: Marie-Louise von Franz, Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and the Psychology,
Inner City Books, Toronto, 1980.
1.04 Jung’s initial work with ancient and medieval texts of Western alchemy was combined with Richard Wilhelm’s 1929 German translation of the Chinese alchemistic text The Secret of the Golden Flower (Wilhelm 1962). The trans-cultural parallelism of imagery and metaphor – East and West with little if any cross-cultural communication - led to Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, i.e., the structural layer of the human psyche containing inherited elements, distinct from the personal unconscious (Sharpe 1991).
The collective unconscious contains the whole spiritual heritage of mankind's evolution, born anew in the brain structure of every individual. (C.G. Jung , “The Structure of the Psyche”, CW 8, par. 342.)
1.05 Jung concluded that the real Pelican was the human cranium in which a process of psychic development took place. Accordingly, the Philosopher’s Stone was a psychic rather than a physical product. It symbolized one’s Self, i.e., the archetype of wholeness and the regulating center of the psyche; a transpersonal power that transcends the ego (Sharpe 1991). In the process of distilling the Philosopher’s Stone, however, it generated insight into lesser problems of concern to the individual including his or her place in the collective world of humanity as a whole.
1.06 The sealed off nature of the Pelican and the power of the Philosopher’s Stone are appropriate symbols for Thomas Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions [henceforth Structure] for three reasons. First, ‘normal science’, Kuhn’s primary epistemic engine, is walled off from the outside world by incommensurability (1962; 103, 112, 148, 150; 1969: 198ff). And within it, ‘puzzle-solving’ (1962; 34-36) plays the role of the distillation process in the Pelican to progressively refine the findings and facts of the natural sciences.
1.07 Second, like the Stone’s power to create new worlds, Structure reshaped the academic landscape becoming “…one of the most cited works in the humanities and social sciences, and one of the few major works in these fields that have been received sympathetically by natural scientists” (Fuller 2000; 1). In effect, Structure “… achieved much of what Daniel Bell’s The End of Ideology tried to do… to alleviate the anxieties of alienated academics and defensive policy makers by teaching them that they could all profit from each tending to their homegrown puzzles. Good paradigms make good neighbors” (Fuller 2000; 7).
1.08 Third, the alchemist’s belief that God lay trapped in Matter provided the psychic stimulus for development of the natural sciences, e.g., Newton. It was, however, Robert Bolye who wrote Some Considerations touching the Usefulness of experimental natural philosophy in the 1650s and then A Free Enquiry into the Vulgarly Received Notion of Nature (1686) that separated God from the physical world the instant after the Creation. Unlike Newton, who continued to believe in miracles and Divine Intervention (Harrison 1995), Boyle argued “(r)ather God impose[d] order from the outside at the beginning of creation and matter behaves mechanically to fulfil God’s initial design” (Jacob 1978). The laws of nature were thus set and established, once and for ever, to become subject to exploration and discovery by ‘free-willed’ humanity using experimental natural philosophy, i.e., the natural sciences: the prima materia of Structure.
1.09 For these three reasons I call Structure: “Thomas Kuhn’s Pelican Brief”.
b) Transdisciplinary Circumambulation
1.10 Beyond alchemy, natural science and theology, Structures invokes, in passing, the contribution of aesthetics and intuition to explain scientific revolutions and drops allusions about the effects of economics, history, philosophy and sociology on the development of natural science. (See para. 1.13: Table 1: Aesthetics 7 = 6/1/0; % 86/14/0; Intuition 2 = 1/1/0; % 50/50/0; Economics 4 = 4/0/0; % 100/0/0; History 96 = 80/10/6; % 83/10/6; Philosophy 58 = 41/12/5; % 71/21/19; Sociology 9 = 5/4/0; % 56/44/0; baseline % 79/16/5)
1.11 To encompass the full meaning and import of Structure thus requires a paradigmatological walk around the text, or a transdisciplinary circumambulation (Figure 2: Transdisciplinary Induction). The term ‘paradigmatology’ is resurrected from the work of Magorah Maruyama (1974) who replaced it with ‘mindscapes’:
Although he seems no longer to favour the term, he defined paradigmatology as the “science of structures of reasoning” whether between disciplines, professions, cultures or individuals. He notes that the “problem of communication between different structures of reasoning had not been raised until recently”, since scholars tended either to advocate their own approach or describe that of others. Contributing to this neglect is the fact that the choice between logics is based on factors which are beyond and independent of any logic.
Encyclopedia of World Problems and Human Potential
1.12 The use of paradigmatology is perhaps best expressed by Eric Neumann with respect to symbolic analysis in analytic psychology:
Symbols gather round the thing to be explained, understood, interpreted. The act of becoming conscious consists in the concentric grouping of symbols around the object, all circumscribing and describing the unknown from many sides. Each symbol lays bare another essential side of the object to be grasped, points to another facet of meaning. Only the canon of these symbols congregating about the center in question, the coherent symbol group, can lead to an understanding of what the symbols point to and of what they are trying to express.
1.13 In this research note, I will examine Thomas Kuhn’s 1962 essay The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (3rd Edition, 1996) and two subsequent works (his 1969 Postscript and 1990 article, The Road since Structure). First, in this Introduction, I have compared the original Kuhnian paradigm to the alchemistic Pelican in the tradition of Carl Jung (CW 12, 13, 14 & 16). Second, I will next present a model of Kuhn’s original 1962 paradigm including its mechanism, stages, components and exogenous factors. In the process, I will assess some of its facets as well as the development in Kuhn’s thinking reflected in the page frequency of selected terms in the successive works: 1962, 1969 and 1990 (Table 1, next page). All text was scanned and a word search conducted (did the term or a variant appear on a page, but not how many times) to develop an enhanced index (Appendix) from which frequency indicators were constructed. The 1996 edition includes a 'donated' Index by Peter J. Riggs. I hope hereby to make my small contribution to the ‘objective’ exegesis of this important text. Reporting is as follows: Total Count = 1962/1969/1990; (%) 1962/1969/1990). The baseline is the total page count in each document: 230 = 182/37/11; (%) 79/16/5. When the observed frequency varies from the 79/16/5 percent baseline then a change in the direction of the author’s thought may be indicated. To minimize disruption to the flow of the reader's thought, frequencies are reported at the end of each relevant paragraph.
1.14 It should be noted that the methodology was not applied consistently with respect to footnotes. In some cases, they were counted; in others they were not. I do not believe this materially affects results for a given term because internal consistency was maintained. References in this text without a named author refer, respectively to Kuhn:
(1962) Main Text: 182 pages including Preface, pp. vii-xiv, 1-173.
(1969) Postscript: 37 pages, pp. 174-210.
(1990) Road since Structure: 11 pages, pp. 3-13
1.15 In conclusion, I will assess, in the process, the applicability of the “normal science” paradigm to all three primary contemporary knowledge domains – the Natural & Engineering Sciences (NSE), the Humanities & Social Sciences (H&SS), and the Arts.
Comparative Page Frequency of Terms
B – 1962 main text
C – 1969 Postscript
D – 1990 Road since Structure
2.01 How does science progress, specifically natural science that deals with matter, energy, their interrelations and transformations? And why does its rate of progress exceed, by an order of magnitude, that of all other forms of human knowledge, e.g., the humanities, social sciences and the arts? These are the primary questions addressed by Structure.
2.02 Is it “development-by-accumulation” (1962, 2)? This is, to Kuhn, the ‘orthodox’ view. Science grows through diachronic accumulation of facts, theories, and methods creating an ever larger stockpile of scientific knowledge. It is a rectilinear process rising from a poorer Past to a richer Present to an ever richer Future (Polak 1971, 95-96). Implicitly, this growing body of knowledge leads to some ultimate ‘truth’ about nature, e.g., the ‘intelligent’ design of a theistic agency, or the ‘chthonic’ underworld reality of an atheistic vacuum.
a) Mechanism & Stages
i – Mechanism
2.03 Kuhn denies the orthodoxy and its implicit teleological truth. In its place he offers up a cyclical model powered by an autopoietic or self-reproducing mechanism (Polak 1971 95). In brief, starting from an initial state called ‘pre-paradigm’, the model is a two-stroke diastolic/systolic system emitting the reiterative sequence: paradigm/post-/paradigm/post-/paradigm/ (Fig. 3). Inhaling (diastole) a paradigm is formed by sucking in ‘knowledge’ components (old and new) required to establish and maintain a metabolism called ‘normal science’. Components necessary to establish metabolism include: instruments, language, practice, talent and theory.
2.04 In exhaling (systole), usually in response to an irritating critical mass of observational ‘anomalies’, an existing paradigm expels its components into a post-paradigm or “crisis” environment similar to the pre-paradigm state. An evolutionary struggle ensues from which a new paradigm emerges judged the ‘fittest’ for the practice of future science. In turn, it sucks in some, but usually not all, prior components then adds its own to the mix reestablishing metabolism until the next crisis or ‘revolution’. Past paradigm components not absorbed by the new paradigm constitute ‘Kuhn’s Loss’ (Fuller 1992, 272). Thus progress is not without cost. There is, furthermore, no end to the iterations of the cycle; and, no teleological truth is ever to be attained.
2.05 The ‘diastole/systole’ model derives from breathing and the actions of the heart. It is one of the primal ‘life’ sensations experienced by scientist and non-scientist alike. It tends, as other primal sensations, to pattern human thought, e.g., the cosmological theory of the universe as a rhythmic series of Big Bangs followed by collapse followed by another Big Bang on into infinity.
2.06 Some biological senses, however, are shunned in intellectual (science) and emotional (arts) models of Western thought. In aesthetics, for example, consideration is generally restricted to the ‘distant senses’ of sight and sound. The near senses of touch, taste and smell lead to obscenity, glutony and scatology.
Since the organs of sight and hearing are distance receptors, detachment from direct contact with the physical may be retained, for the other senses call attention to the body, so destroying the isolation of the contemplative mind. Thus the aristocratic attitude of classical Greek culture has been preserved: the conviction of the superiority of the essentially passive aloofness of the meditative spirit and contempt for the practical and manipulative. (Berleant Winter 1964, 187)
2.07 One unique component of the natural sciences – mechanical instrumentation – extends the human senses from the macro- to the micro-cosmic. In effect they add new ‘distant senses’ to the human repertoire. Their impact on and implications for the progressiveness of the natural sciences is, in my opinion, underplayed by Kuhn.
ii – Pre-Paradigm
2.08 Kuhn argues that each natural science begins with “… continual competition between a number of distinct views of nature, each partially derived from, and all roughly compatible with, the dictates of scientific observation and method.” (1962, 4). In effect, each contributor begins anew constructing a foundation upon which to erect his or her understanding of the natural world. Each sees nature in a different and “incommensurate” way (1962: 103, 112, 148, 150; 1969: 198ff). Each looks at the same objective reality seeing another world (1962: 111, 118, 121, 150). Communication between these different worlds is problematic.
2.09 This initial phase gives way, at some point, to a consensus about one and only one view of nature, e.g., ‘Ptolemaic astronomy’. This consensus Kuhn calls ‘a paradigm’. Hence the initial phase is the “pre-” paradigm period (Fig. 3). It is important to note that Kuhn assumes functional, not chronological or calendar, time. This is similar to the arrow of time in microeconomic theory in which the short- and long-run are a function of the variability of factors of production e.g., capital and labour. The short-run is the time period in which at least one factor is fixed in quantity; the long-run is when all factors are variable. These periods vary significantly between industries, e.g., capital intensive steel and labour-intensive retail fast-food. To Kuhn, they vary in temporal terms between and among the natural sciences while other knowledge domains (the arts, humanities and social sciences) have yet to attain a normal science metabolism.
2.10 A paradigm consists of a set of integrated and self-reinforcing components including: theory; language (especially rhetoric, i.e., how to make an effective argument or proof); instruments; praxis or customary practice (in the use of relevant theory, language and instruments); and, talent. The mutual reinforcement of these components converts them into a whole greater than the sum of their parts. Thus a paradigm becomes an autopoietic or self-maintaining organization like a cell, organism or corporation as in Galbraith’s technostructure (Galbraith 1967). In this sense the pre-paradigm phase is prebiotic consisting of precursors of a self-contained and self-reproducing paradigm. It is pre-scientific.
2.11 As to the source of initial (and subsequent) paradigms, Kuhn identifies two. First, he draws on intuition describing it in terms like “scales falling from the eyes”, “lightning flash” and “illumination” (1962, 123). He notes that:
…the new paradigm, or a sufficient hint to permit later articulation, emerges all at once, sometimes in the middle of the night, in the mind of a man deeply immersed in crisis. What the nature of that final stage is - how an individual invents (or finds he has invented) a new way of giving order to data now all assembled - must here remain inscrutable and may be permanently so. (1962, 89-90).
2.12 Second, he draws on ‘the cult of genius’ including a pantheon of luminaries such as Ptolemy, Copernicus, Galileo, Newton and Einstein (Woodmansee 1984, 446, 47ff [Zilsel 1918]). He thereby dates normal science from ‘Ptolemaic astronomy’ (1962: 10, 23, 67-69, 75-76, 82, 98, 115, 154, 156). Thereby he highlights science as an ancient ‘way of knowing’ with a rich historical pedigree. Ptolemy, implies Kuhn, was not just ‘right’ for his time, but also the progenitor of ‘normal science’. Kuhn does not fail to highlight the “Western” origins of this unique epistemological practice (1962, 167-168), one that emphasizes process over product, specifically, as will be seen, puzzle solving over puzzles. This emphasis on the Western origins of normal science was a part of the greatest political economic puzzle of the late 20th century - the Cold War (Fuller 2000, 391).
iii – Paradigm
2.13 Once a consensus has been struck the paradigm locks in. Most, if not all, members of a scientific community begin, in effect, to sing from the same hymn book. They see the same nature; they speak the same language; they use the same instruments; they practice science in the same way. This allows division and specialization of labour and ‘normal science’ is ignited (1962: 5-6, 10, 24-34, 80). It is the abundant harvest from normal science that, to Kuhn, creates the illusion of rectilinear progress. However, meaningful insights are lost when normal science kicks in. Accordingly, scientific progress measured by ‘knowledge’ accumulation is accompanied by collateral losses – of theories, instrumental results and language, the so-called ‘Kuhn’s Loss’. Kuhn’s description reads somewhat like Schumpeter’s “creative destruction” and its effects on the economy (Schumpeter 1942):
After the [paradigm] … , scientists [are] able to account for a wider range of natural phenomena or to account with greater precision for some of those previously known. But that gain was achieved only by discarding some previously standard beliefs or procedures and, simultaneously, by replacing those components of the previous paradigm with others.” (1962, 66)
2.14 For Kuhn, normal science is puzzle-solving (1962, 36-39). Paradigms present puzzles that scientists are driven to solve. Even a consensus that a paradigm is ‘right’, however, leaves some questions unasked and some answers incomplete. The unasked questions and incomplete answers of a paradigm are the stock and trade of normal science.
2.15 Kuhn contrasts puzzle-solving with discovery which is, in the orthodox view, the primary source of progressiveness in science. Unlike discovery, a puzzle presupposes a solution. A paradigm provides the equivalent of an 8 x 8 chessboard on which a dynamic puzzle can be solved assuming specific rules, practices and procedures defined by, and defining, the paradigm. Thus ‘normal’ science does not involve discovering new or novel games but rather finding solutions to puzzles posed by a paradigm. Like searching under a street light for something dropped in the dark, if it is there, it will be found. Normal science practices under the street lamp; it does not roam into the dark. That is the Kuhnian realm of extraordinary science during the post-paradigm period of the cycle (1962, 82-89).
2.16 The modus operandi of normal science produces progress measurable by new and improved solutions to puzzles created or implicit in an existing paradigm. The intellectual ‘fixation’ of a ‘normal’ scientist resembles that portrayed in John Barth’s 1966 novel Giles Goatboy: or The Revised New Syllabus. His is a world divided into campuses, two of which – West and East Campus – struggle for control of the University. Scientists search for the infinite divisor because each time one side succeeds in reducing the discrepancy between theoretical and experimental results by half, an opposing scientist cuts the remaining difference by half, and so on and so on. The ultimate weapon is the infinite divisor so that prediction and result become one.
2.17 The narrowing of concentration characteristic of normal science is both its blessing and its curse. The spotlight provided by a paradigm permits effective observation and accumulation of data furthering the puzzle-solving process. The fact that attention is concentrated only under the light means that ‘outriders’ are simply not seen or actively ignored until they accumulate to crisis proportions. The inherently conservative nature of a paradigm does, however, stop random searches for rainbows and concentrates attention and resources on puzzles on hand increasing the chance of finding solutions, hence contributing to the apparent ‘progressiveness’ of normal science. As Kuhn puts it:
Anomaly appears only against the background provided by the paradigm. The more precise and far-reaching that paradigm is, the more sensitive an indicator it provides of anomaly and hence of an occasion for paradigm change. In the normal mode of discovery, even resistance to change has a use .... By ensuring that the paradigm will not be too easily surrendered, resistance guarantees that scientists will not be lightly distracted and that the anomalies that lead to paradigm change will penetrate existing knowledge to the core. (1996, 65)
iv – Post-Paradigm
2.18 In exploring initially unasked questions and incomplete answers, ‘anomalies’ or ‘violations of expectations’ predicted by a paradigm begin to appear. With further puzzle-solving, some can be absorbed and explained thereby expanding the ambit of the existing paradigm. Others, however, can not be resolved. As ‘hard’ cases accumulate and/or as improved instrumentation reveals new ones, confidence in a paradigm begins to slip. A crisis of confidence emerges and a post-paradigm stage begins. Some scientists respond by trying harder to accommodate significant anomalies; others propose alternative paradigms. In essence, an evolutionary struggle ensues to determine the fittest paradigm to direct the future practice of science. Once the winner emerges a new paradigm locks in, with consequences similar to those leading from the pre- to the paradigm stage: the new sucks in prior components (with an attendant ‘Kuhn’s Loss’) adds its own and reestablishes metabolism (normal science) until the next crisis or ‘revolution’.
2.19 Kuhn is principally concerned with process rather than product, i.e., how knowledge is attained not what it is. This is reminiscent of Shackles’ description of the ultimate meaning of Chapter 12 in Keynes’s General Theory:
Keynes’s whole theory of unemployment is ultimately the simple statement that rational expectation being unattainable, we substitute for it first one and then another kind of irrational expectation: and the shift from one arbitrary basis to another gives us from time to time a moment of truth, when our artificial confidence is for the time being dissolved, and we, as business men are afraid to invest, and so fail to provide enough demand to match our society’s desire to produce. Keynes in the General Theory attempted a rational theory of a field of conduct which by the nature of its terms could be only semi-rational. (Shackle 1967, 129).
2.20 The post-paradigm stage can also be compared to the interphase period in mitosis, i.e., when a cell divides and its chromosomes split and duplicate to form the nucleus of a new cell. As a paradigm enters crisis its components, to varying degrees, begin to split off ending the period of normal science and metabolism breaks down. The search for a new paradigm leads sometimes to sources external to the closed disciplinarian world of the existing paradigm. Under the reign of normal science, however, such external sources are generally considered contaminating and error-generating. Kuhn notes, for example, the role of philosophy in guiding a scientific community towards a new paradigm. In a way such external forces act like phage (a viral infection of bacteria) adding new and different slices of DNA to the component strands of normal science. With or without external influence, however, eventually a viable combination of components emerges from the Darwinian struggle and a new paradigm locks in and reestablishes metabolism so normal science begins again.
2.21 Integration of components from the previous paradigm is problematic. In the case of talent, it is achieved primarily through “conversion”, exit from the field and/or, after a non-repentant life worshipping at the altar of a now dead god, exit from a scientific community by death. Kuhn describes conversion as involving ‘gestalt-switching’, fuller implications of which are explored below (2.c.iv - Psychology). (Appendix and Table 1, p. 5: Convert 10 = 9/1/0; % 90/10/0; baseline % 79/16/5).
2.22 Of paradigms, Kuhn writes: “These I take to be universally recognized scientific achievements that for a time provide model problems and solutions to a community of practitioners.” (1962, x). Metaphorically a paradigm is like the field effect, produced by quarks, called hadrons, e.g., protons and neutrons. The components of a paradigm are highly ‘entangled’, one with the other, or biologically speaking they can be said to be symbiotic. In the case of quarks, there are 6 ‘flavours’ and three colours – charmed, up, down, strange, top and bottom, red, green and blue. These characteristics distinguish one quark from another. It is their relationalism, i.e., quarks never exist alone but only in groups, that creates an epiphenomena, for example, a proton (Nielson 2002). It is like sticking your hand into a jacuzzi with streams of water merging in the middle of the tub producing what feels solid but is an illusion, a secondary or epiphenomenon which, nonetheless, is ‘real’. While quarks cannot exist alone, they can transmute changing one field into another, for example, from a proton to a neutron, from hot to cold.
2.23 When a paradigm’s components go out of alignment the field collapses. Individual components continue to function but they collectively fail to generate a field. The race is then on for a key to turn on the engine again. The search will include the investigation of new instruments, languages, practices, talent and/or theories. Thus I identify five interactive, mutually reinforcing components generating the normal science paradigm. I examine each in alphabetical order.
i – Instruments
2.24 In effect, scientific instrumentation extends the human senses beyond what Kuhn calls ‘casual observation’ of the muddled middle (where individual human beings live) (1962, 15). They extend our senses to both macro- and micro-scopic nature and provide spectral scans exceeding the ‘human’ range and precision of sight, sound, touch, taste and smell. In a way, scientific instruments have realized a Platonic ideal: “belief in a realm of entities, access to which requires mental powers that transcend sense perception.” (Fuller 2000, 69) The relationship and difference between the senses (physical stimuli) and sensation (psychological interpretation) plays a critical part in Kuhn’s argument about incommensurability (1962: 103, 112, 148, 150; 1969: 198ff; 1990: 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12).
2.25 Specifically scientific instruments add new ‘distant senses’ to our genetically endowed sight and sound and amplify the ‘near’ senses of taste, touch and smell (Berleant 1964). This distinction between distant and near senses (and sensations) is examined in greater detail below (2.c.i – Aesthetics and 2.c.iv - Psychology). For present purposes it is sufficient to note that the ‘language’ of these new senses also realizes an ancient Greek ideal, this time that of Pythagoras (about 530 B.C.E.), in that scientific instruments communicate in numbers. The Pythagorean mystery of numbers has haunted Western culture since Pythagoras allegedly learned the secrets of the ancient Egyptians. Non-mediated (by human subjects) ‘objective’ quantitative information serves to distinguish the natural & engineering sciences from both the humanities & social sciences and the arts. The nature and role of language in the Kuhnian paradigm of normal science is explored in greater detail below (2.b.ii – Language).
2.26 Kuhn understates, in my opinion, the importance of instrumentation for a number of reasons. To him, its importance lays in its dynamic ability to reveal new facts and generate fresh anomalies to fuel scientific revolution (1962, 5-6).
2.27 First, Kuhn’s passing remark that the crafts (and technology) are the primary place to find ‘non-casual observations’ in the pre-paradigm period (1996, 15-16) misses the mark. Francis Bacon (1561-1626) encouraged the first wave of ‘natural philosophers’ in the West to visit the workshops of craftspersons and instrument makers because it was only there that they were able to ‘force nature’. He is referenced five times by Kuhn (1962: 16, 18, 28, 37, 170). By forcing nature Bacon and the early natural philosophers meant creating ‘controlled conditions’ under which one property of nature could be reliably tested without interference by another. The instrumental means chosen leads, according to Kuhn to “the endurance of instrumental commitments that, as much as laws and theory, provide scientists with rules of the game.” (1962, 41)
2.28 Based on Bacon’s advice a cultural anomaly occurred in Britain. It was a brief marriage during the 17th century that conceived and gave birth to modern normal sciences (as opposed to Ptolemaic astrology). For a brief moment, the ancient barriers between the Liberal and Mechanical Arts broke down and those who knew with their heads (scholars) married their knowledge with that of those who knew with their hands (craftspersons). In effect, there was a hieros gamos or sacred marriage.
2.29 From the time of the ancient Greeks through the Roman Empire into the Christian Middle Ages and up to the Renaissance, those who worked with their heads practiced the Liberal Arts; those who worked with their hands, the Mechanical. In essence, the first were considered ‘ennobling’; the second, ‘demeaning’. It took the 15th century artist/engineer/ humanist/scientist genius of Da Vinci, Dürer, Michelangelo and their kin to begin bridging this ancient gap. An additional span was laid by their successors in the 16th and 17th centuries – the high artisans and instrument makers - whose ‘experimental method’ inspired Francis Bacon and fuelled the ‘Scientific Revolution’ (Zilsel 1945).
2.30 This marriage inaugurated modern ‘instrumental’ science (Zilsel 1940, 1941, 1945; Houghton 1941; Newman 1989). The spirit of playful fascination with new instruments and devices in the 16th and 17th centuries, specifically those intended to measure longitude, is captured in Umberto Eco’s 1994 novel: The Island of the Day Before (Eco 1994). That this unique marriage of head and hand is sensed by Kuhn is suggested by his comment that the normal scientist must design his or her own special apparatus and this requires “first-rate talent” (1962, 25-26).
2.31 Openness and exchange between hand and head began, however, to close almost immediately due to, among other things, the aristocratic influence of Cavalier ‘Virtuosi’ including one of the founders of the Royal Society, John Evelyn (Houghton 1942). By the Victorian Age of the mid- to late 19th century the two worlds were sealed off again into their ancestral solitudes (Houghton 1952). After all: “Gentlemen don’t work with their hands!” This closing off contributed to what in the 1970s and 1980s was called the ‘British disease’ (Economist, Apr. 25, 1981, 111)
2.32 Second, with respect to technology in general, as opposed to scientific instruments, Kuhn makes only five references (1962: xii, 15, 19, 161, 168). He concludes that all civilizations have had technology (1962, 167-168). What is unique to the West is how scientific knowledge is acquired – through normal science. He makes no connection between the success of normal science and the dramatic impact of resulting technological change on the material well being and global dominance of the human species. Global extinction may face other species but the human one is now poised to move itself, if not all individuals, off planet into space to colonize the dark realm. This demonstrates the evolutionary implications of normal science.
2.33 Third, electronic and mechanical instruments yield consistent quantitative measurement of a phenomenon through time. This sets the natural sciences apart from other knowledge domains. Scientific instruments extend the human senses beyond the subjectivity of the individual observer permitting replicability of measurement through time. Once set in motion the clock ticks until its energy source is exhausted. It is measurement without mediation by a human subject that played a critical role in the cultural assent of the natural sciences.
2.34 The Renaissance of the 15th century tried to displace a medieval world where God was the measure of all things by a humanist world where ‘man was the measure of all things’. In turn, the humanist world was sideswiped by the radical skepticism of a Reformation where God remained the measure but the words of popes, bishops and philosophers were no longer the measuring rod. Then at the height of the Protestant ‘Commonwealth’ in England, the Scientific Revolution of the 17th century snookered the arbitrariness of God and Man by creating a world where the machine became the measure of all things physical. The only question remaining was whether all things were, in fact, physical?
2.35 To Robert Boyle (1.a – Pyschic Alchemy, para 1.08), two things were not physical yet real: the human soul and angels. It was Boyle who placed the laws of the physical universe in stasis above and beyond the meddling of both Human and God. The act of Creation once and forever established the laws of nature that became the object of increasingly complex and disinterested machines of experimental natural philosophy. Quite simply, no economic, political, psychological or sociological survey instrument; no historical, linguistic, philosophical or religious exegesis and no work of the literary, media, performing or visual arts can rival the consistent, reliable, replicable measurement of natural phenomenon achieved by scientific instruments. They have become cultural artifacts of evolutionary import.
2.36 The putting the ‘instrumental’ into science can be compared with the effect of recorded sound and image technology in the Arts. It created an entirely new discipline with its own distinct aesthetic - media arts. This joined the three traditional forms of the literary (5,000 years old), performing (paleolithic) and visual arts (25-40,000 years old). In many ways the media arts were and remain as strange and foreign, if not as incommensurate, to the traditional Arts as Einstein’s relativity to Newtonians. This suspicion is reflected in a long-running debate between American economist William Baumol and British economist, Gordon Tullock over the ‘substitutability’ of recorded and live art. Specifically, does the audience play a role in creating Art? Baumol argues that a gestalt exists between performer and audience feeding back and creating an aesthetic experience fundamentally different from a recording (Baumol & Oates 1972, 1974 & 1976). Tullock, on the other hand, argues that ‘canned’ product may not be as aesthetically pleasing but it does permit mass distribution above and beyond a small arts-going elite thereby raising the general level of artistic appreciation in society (Tullock 1974 & 1976).
2.37 These new technologies provide, for example, performing artists with something that only literary and visual artists enjoyed in the past - life after death. Life not as a ghost on another plane, but life as a shadow on the silver (or fluorescent) screen. There will never again be a Sir Richard Burton, but his image, his voice, and his performances will endure, like the plays of Shakespeare, as part of the social genetic, the extra-somatic knowledge that is the “stuff” of culture (Sagan 1977). It is this characteristic of the Arts, the maintenance of a collective linkage with the past, which distinguishes the treatment of knowledge in the Arts from other knowledge domains. In other sectors, new knowledge tends to displace the old, especially in the natural sciences but to a significantly lesser extent in the humanities and social sciences. In the Arts, the images and words of cultures and civilizations, long buried by the sands of time, enrich and inspire contemporary creators of today (Boulding July 1986). The contrast with normal science is summed up by Kuhn this way:
Scientific education makes use of no equivalent for the art museum or the library of classics, and the result is a sometimes drastic distortion in the scientist’s perception of his discipline’s past. More than the practitioners of other creative fields, he comes to see it as leading in a straight line to the discipline’s present vantage. In short, he comes to see it as progress. No alternative is available to him while he remains in the field. (1962, 167)
2.38 Similarly in the Humanities and the Social Sciences, humanity rather than the machine remains the measure of all things. Whether it is survey instruments, census and tax forms, business records, all the ‘quantitative’ data collected by the Social Sciences (and the Humanities) is intermediated, all along the evidentiary trail, by human subjects exercising volition, i.e., they can lie or misspeak. Atoms, cells, molecules, non-sentient organisms, quarks and stars cannot. Identified in Economics as the problem of ‘revealed preference’ (Samuelson 1948) it exists in all the Social Sciences. The purported solution – Behaviorism – (extant in all the Social Sciences) concludes: “Don’t listen to what they say, watch what they do”.
2.39 There are two technical problems limiting the meaningfulness of the Behaviorist (or Positivist) methodology: one exists at the fountainhead and the other at the processing end of the evidentiary trail.
2.40 First, if evidence is to be collected without interfering with behaviour (hence tainting the evidence) the Social Sciences must rely on a data foundation laid down, not by Social Scientists, but by accountants, bureaucrats, businesspeople, doctors and lawyers, i.e., the self-regulating professions. Accordingly, in eliciting evidence from citizens such ‘knowledge agents’ do not tailor requests to the theoretical needs of Social Scientists. The needs of such agents and the veracity and life ways of their respondents put human subjectivity directly into the quantitative measurement loop, i.e., numbers have parents who have their own wants, needs and desires. Thus even point-of-sales evidence, probably the least intrusive contemporary measurement technology, is controlled by business interests who, for privacy and commercial reasons, do not make it available to government - without a court order or its equivalent – let alone to Social Scientists.
2.41 A corollary to this first problem is the time and effort that Social Scientists must put in to manipulating such ‘quantitative’ evidence into a theoretically usable form. In the case of Economics, with an apparent wealth of business and government data spun off in the course of daily affairs, ‘field work’ is a rarity usually restricted to a sub-discipline called Industrial Organization. This failure to ‘go to the source’ reflects, perhaps:
… the characteristic indolence of economists. It is hard work to plow through file after file of company documents and to interview dozens of executives, cross-checking each observation to guard against bias and misinterpretation. It is much easier to work with census data punched into IBM cards which can be interrogated in the comfort of the home, answer all the questions without evasion, and never complain when bent or spindled.. (Scherer 1971, p. 7)
2.42 The second technical problem of ‘instruments’ in the Social Sciences & Humanities involves language.
2.43 In any of the knowledge domains, the evidentiary trail ends with ‘testing’, more specifically testing a hypothesis against evidence using a specific language with its own grammar, syntax, vocabulary and rhetoric. By rhetoric, I mean how to make an effective argument or proof. The question has been addressed since the days of the Sophists. Kuhn makes twenty-four references to language. Its role appears greater, however, in his 1969 Postscript. He emphasizes its role in incommensurability. (Appendix and Table 1: Language 24 =13/9/2; % 54/38/8).
2.44 Protagoras the first Sophist (485-410 B.C.E.) began his work ‘Truth’ with the statement: “Man is the measure of all things - of things that are, that they are, of things that are not that they are not”. It was from this sentiment that the Humanities arose in the Renaissance – Man not God was the measure of things and Man was mutable, God was not. An implication of Man as Measure was that convincing people became a test of truth, i.e., rhetoric was what mattered. The atheism and immorality of the Sophists caused the Aristotelians and Platonists to condemn Sophism as reason for gain, not truth. The Christian Church, however, embraced Sophist technique in its battle with pagans for dominance in the later days of the Western Roman Empire and rhetoric became one of the medieval Seven Liberal Arts. That ‘truth’ emerges from argument and rhetoric – as with trial lawyers - is reflected in a growing body of work found in all the social sciences, e.g., Donald McClosky ‘s The Rhetoric of Economics (1985).
2.45 In any knowledge domain or discipline, there are distinct and different rules of evidence as well as dialect, syntax and vocabulary. Specialization of language is a characteristic of a new discipline or sub-discipline and, according to Kuhn, contributes to incommensurability.
2.46 There is, however, another usually overlooked dimension to language – the alphabet in which it is argued. If one defines an alphabet as any system of signs or signals that serve as equivalents for letters then different alphabets or mixes and blends of alphabets characterize the different knowledge domains. In the Humanities the written alphabet is preeminent. In the Arts, the written alphabet, movement and visual form exist together with musical notation and a less formal notation for movement used in dance (e.g., the Laban Method). In the natural science, the dominant alphabet is mathematics, that is, numbers in their many varied forms and manifestations: algebraic, calculus, fractal, geometric, imaginary, real, topological, etc. In the social sciences the written word, mathematics and visual imagery (e.g., the geometrics of economics) are the alphabets from which rhetorical argument and proof may be constructed.
2.47 Marshall McLuhan, following the lead of his mentor, Harold Innis (Innis 1950, 1951) noted that we recognize the fundamental difference between perception of literate and preliterate peoples but we do not appreciate the impact of alphabets. It is possible, even today, to encounter highly educated people who are quite unaware that only phonetically literate man lives in a ‘rational’ or ‘pictorial’ space. The discovery or invention of such a cognitive space that is uniform, continuous and connected was an environmental effect of the phonetic alphabet in the sensory life of ancient Greece. This form of rational or pictorial space is an environment that results from no other form of writing, Hebrew, Arabic, or Chinese (McLuhan, Fiore 1968: 7; McLuhan and Logan 1977).
2.48 If a phonetic alphabet creates a rational space then mathematics can be said to create a ‘surpra-rational’ one. In this extreme space only the most rational of hypotheses can be formulated if they are to be testable. Given that the Social Sciences (as moral philosophy) maintains that not just reason but also sentiment or sympathy guides human behavior, then the use of mathematics rules out a whole range of alternative hypotheses. In this sense, those Social Scientists who insist that the only valid statement is one that can be tested are ‘Absolutists’. Those who accept ‘quantitative’ evidence, for what it is – necessary but not sufficient -, as well as admitting other forms of evidence are Relativists. Some ‘empirical’ evidence from cognitive psychology appears, however, to support the Relativist insistence on the role of ‘emotion’ or sentiment in intentional behaviour (Freedman 2000) and what is called ‘ego consciousness’ may not always have been, nor will it necessarily remain, the dominant form of human consciousness (Jaynes 1978).
2.49 A corollary to the success of the technology emerging from normal science is an ‘industrial’ educational insistence on mathematics. But in forcing any ‘alien’ language down someone’s throat – English, French, German, Turkish etc., alienation usually follows. Numeracy is a language. As with other languages some people are pre-wired for one type; but not for others (Chomsky 1983). The ongoing struggle in the public schools to get children interested in and perform well in mathematics and the sciences is, in my opinion, reflective of a failure to recognize the linguistic nature of mathematics.
2.50 Similarly, in spite of relatively poor quantitative evidence (relative to the Natural Sciences), many social scientists pride themselves in developing ever more sophisticated mathematical techniques. To the degree their results are presented without ‘translation’, they are meaningless to the unenlightened (including most policy makers) and lead to alienation of outsiders and the forming of a charmed circle for those within. This achieves, of course, the incommensurability that Kuhn attributes to a paradigm. It is interesting to note that Kuhn seems to have discovered ‘translation’ as a term with the 1969 Postscript. (Appendix and Table 1: Translate: 9 = 1/6/2; % 11/67/22, baseline % 79/16/5).
iii – Practice
2.51 Twice Kuhn pays homage to Michael Polanyi for contributing the term ‘tacit knowledge’; once in the main 1962 text and once in the 1969 Postscript (1962: 44; 1969: 190). He does not use the term in his 1990 “The Road since Structure”. Slightly updated, he defines it as knowledge acquired through practice that cannot be ‘codified’ (OECD 1996) or, in the original Kuhn, ‘articulated explicitly’ (1962: 44; 1969: 190-191). Fuller cast Polanyi as a ‘British’ Kuhn defending the natural sciences against invasion by the barbarians of industry and the military but, in a more gentlemanly and culturally rounded manner. (Fuller 2000, 139-153).
2.52 Consonant with its craft guild origins, the natural sciences in practice, appear to Kuhn as a ‘mystery’ (Houghton 1941), specifically the mystery of how to ‘force nature’ to reveal herself. This mystery has twin Western roots: one in theistic thought - to reveal God’s work hidden in matter; and, the other atheistic thought - the radical materialism of Epicurus, Bentham and Marx and the less radical materialism of Robert Boyles’ corpuscular theory. This shared purpose is captured in Kuhn’s words: “…we shall want finally to describe … research as a strenuous and devoted attempt to force nature into the conceptual boxes supplied by professional education.” (1962, 5) Of course, it is not just conceptual boxes but also controlled experimental conditions into which the natural scientist wants to force nature, e.g., particle accelerators, synchrotrons and test tubes.
2.53 Epicurus (341-271 B.C.E) argued, unlike Plato and Aristotle, that there was no shadow play beyond which ‘universal forms’ or ‘truth’ would be found (inside or outside human consciousness). There was in fact no God: there was only sensation. Based on atomic theory, Epicureanism allowed for no ultimate principle or morality, no teleology. It recognized only sensation – pleasure and pain. Knowledge came from the pleasure and/or pain brought by persons, things and events. It was, in effect, an ‘atomic hedonism’. Pleasure-seeking was, however, contained by an Epicurean ethic of moderation. It can be argued that the later Stoics, including Emperor Marcus Aurelius of Gladiator fame (Scott, 2000), inherited an acceptable form of Epicurean materialism including its fatalism. Kuhn too is a materialist who sees no teleological purpose in the practice of science or in the evolutionary process (1962, 172).
2.54 To return to Kuhn’s use of tacit knowledge, it is learned by ‘doing’, i.e., it is experiential knowledge. Such exists in all knowledge domains. In biotechnology, for example, it is called ‘lab bench’ knowledge (Auroa and Gambardella 1990). Historically, however, it is simply called ‘Art’.
2.55 The English word ‘art’ means ‘skill’ or ‘craft’, both are forms of experiential knowledge gained by doing as opposed to systematizing knowledge by which the ancient Greeks meant by ‘science’. To interpret the current OECD vocabulary, tacit knowledge is Art, codified knowledge is Science (OECD 1995). Feedback between application and systematization produces ‘learning’ or education in the sense of its root meaning - educe - to bring out from someone an understanding of something outside of oneself.
2.56 Kuhn stresses that the practice of natural science involves ‘hands on’ learning:
… A new theory is always announced together with applications to some concrete range of natural phenomena; without them it would not be even a candidate for acceptance. After it has been accepted, those same applications or others accompany the theory into the textbooks from which the future practitioner will learn his trade. They are not there merely as embroidery or even as documentation. On the contrary, the process of learning a theory depends upon the study of applications, including practice problem-solving both with a pencil and paper and with instruments in the laboratory. If, for example, the student of Newtonian dynamics ever discovers the meaning of terms like ‘force,’ ‘mass,’ ‘space,’ and ‘time,’ he does so less from the incomplete though sometimes helpful definitions in his text than by observing and participating in the application of these concepts to problem-solution.
That process of learning by finger exercise or by doing continues throughout the process of professional initiation. As the student proceeds from his freshman course to and through his doctoral dissertation, the problems assigned to him become more complex and less completely precedented. But they continue to be closely modeled on previous achievements as are the problems that normally occupy him during his subsequent independent scientific career. One is at liberty to suppose that somewhere along the way the scientist has intuitively abstracted rules of the game for himself, but there is little reason to believe it. Though many scientists talk easily and well about the paticular individual hypotheses that underlie a concrete piece of current research, they are little better than laymen at characterizing the established bases of their field, its legitimate problems and methods. If they have learned such abstractions at all, they show it mainly through their ability to do successful research. That ability can, however, be understood without recourse to hypothetical rules of the game. (1996, 46-47)
2.57 Artistic knowledge is generally thought unlike scientific knowledge in a number of ways. First, there is a different pattern of education in art and science. There is, in fact, a well recognized gap between graduation from university (high in theory, low in practice) and attainment of professionalism in the arts: art is learned by doing; it is experiential (Lemieux, Young 1981; Robinson 1982; Busch 1985). In fact, with the exception of music (due to its Pythagorean relationship with mathematics) none of the fine arts – literature, the performing or the visual arts - entered the University until the 20th century (Chartrand 2000). In effect, the old craft methods of apprenticeship and master classes survived the Industrial Revolution and remain the most effective method of professional training in the arts. Science, by contrast, is learned by studying and applying a body of systematized knowledge (textbooks) as well as practicing applications to gain tacit knowledge especially in a university setting. Interestingly, Kuhn refers only three times to the university and two of these are to colleagues at specific universities (1962: vii, xiii; 1990: 7). It appears that normal science has no geographical home in the Kuhnian paradigm.
2.58 Second, artistic knowledge is unlike scientific knowledge with respect to time. Scientific knowledge tends to depreciate through time, e.g. Greek deductive science was displaced by modern experimental science. In Art (and to a great extent in the humanities & social sciences), however, knowledge can appreciate through time. King Tut, Shakespeare and Bach still speak, still sell. In media art, Hollywood film libraries have become multi-million dollar assets. Plato and Aristotle are still taught in universities. And maintaining classical repertoire in the performing arts provides continuing inspiration to contemporary creators and establishes standards of excellence against which new work is judged. This religio or linking back is embodied in heritage art which conserves and preserves past and present creation for subsequent generations. As noted by Kuhn there is no equivalent of the ‘art museum’ in the natural sciences (1962, 167).
2.59 Finally, it can be said that science knows and art does, or:
Whereas Art begins with desired effects and finds causes to create these effects and no others, Science starts with causes and seeks effects to confirm or negate these causes. Art organizes ignorance by precepts while Science organizes knowledge by concepts (Nevitt, 1978, 7).
iv – Talent
2.60 Talent is a term used only once by Kuhn to refer to the skill needed to design scientific instruments (1962, 25). Nonetheless, the people who do normal science have, according to him, certain distinctive characteristics. First, when a new paradigm locks in some existing cadre do not ‘convert’. Of these those “who cling to one or another of the older views, … are simply read out of the profession, which thereafter ignores their work.” (1962; 19, 152). Others go the way of all flesh, i.e. generational churn solves the problem. To coin a phrase: ‘Life is short, Science is long’. And life in Kuhn’s ‘normal science’ is a ‘profession’ not a discipline. His hierarchical ranking of profession over discipline is made explicit when he notes: “…it is sometimes just its reception of a paradigm that transforms a group previously interested merely in the study of nature into a profession or, at least, a discipline.” (1962, 19) It should be noted, however, that the term ‘discipline’ gets much more play in the 1969 Postscript than in the main 1962 text. (Appendix and Table 1: Convert 10 = 9/1/0, % 90/10/0; Discipline 16 = 10/5/1, % 63/31/6; Profession 41 = 37/3/1, % 90/7/2; baseline % 79/16/5)
2.61 Second, neophytes to a new or refurbished temple of normal science are initiated using a unique pedagogy in which:
… increasing reliance on textbooks or their equivalent [i]s an invariable concomitant of the emergence of a first paradigm in any field of science… the domination of a mature science by such texts significantly differentiates its developmental pattern from that of other fields… to an extent unprecedented in other fields, both the layman’s and the practitioner’s knowledge of science is based on textbooks and a few other types of literature derived from them. Textbooks, however, being pedagogic vehicles for the perpetuation of normal science, have to be rewritten in whole or in part whenever the language, problem-structure, or standards of normal science change. In short, they have to be rewritten in the aftermath of each scientific revolution, and, once rewritten, they inevitably disguise not only the role but the very existence of the revolutions that produced them. (1962, 137)
2.62 What sort of talent is attracted to the normal science? First, someone interested – for whatever reasons - in the questions and answers of the natural sciences. Second, someone fluent in its principle language, i.e., mathematics. Third, someone committed to a small community, accepting of its rules as well as its praise and/or censure. Fourth, at least according to Kuhn, someone with an obsession for puzzles and/or an addictive personality.
If, however, the problems of normal science are puzzles …, we need no longer ask why scientists attack them with such passion and devotion. A man may be attracted to science for all sorts of reasons. Among them are the desire to be useful, the excitement of exploring new territory, the hope of finding order, and the drive to test established knowledge. These motives and others besides also help to determine the particular problems that will later engage him. Furthermore, though the result is occasional frustration, there is good reason why motives like these should first attract him and then lead him on. The scientific enterprise as a whole does from time to time prove useful, open up new territory, display order, and test long-accepted belief. Nevertheless, the individual engaged on a normal research problem is almost never doing any one of these things. Once engaged, his motivation is of a rather different sort. What then challenges him is the conviction that, if only he is skilful enough, he will succeed in solving a puzzle that no one before has solved or solved so well. Many of the greatest scientific minds have devoted all of their professional attention to demanding puzzles of this sort. On most occasions any particular field of specialization offers nothing else to do, a fact that makes it no less fascinating to the proper sort of addict.” (1962, 37-38 italics original)
2.63 As to the nature of the community in which talent resides and the high rate of progress attained by normal science, Kuhn notes:
… there are no other professional communities in which individual creative work is so exclusively addressed to and evaluated by other members of the profession. The most esoteric of poets or the most abstract of theologians is far more concerned than the scientist with lay approbation of his creative work, though he may be even less concerned with approbation in general. That difference proves consequential. Just because he is working only for an audience of colleagues, an audience that shares his own values and beliefs, the scientist can take a single set of standards for granted. He need not worry about what some other group or school will think and can therefore dispose of one problem and get on to the next more quickly than those who work for a more heterodox group. Even more important, the insulation of the scientific community from society permits the individual scientist to concentrate his attention upon problems that he has good reason to believe he will be able to solve. Unlike the engineer, and many doctors, and most theologians, the scientist need not choose problems because they urgently need solution and without regard for the tools available to solve them. In this respect, also, the contrast between natural scientists and many social scientists proves instructive. The latter often tend, as the former almost never do, to defend their choice of a research problem - e.g., the effects of racial discrimination or the causes of the business cycle - chiefly in terms of the social importance of achieving a solution. Which group would one then expect to solve problems at a more rapid rate?” (1962, 164)
2.64 As to the type of talent most likely to contribute to a scientific revolution, they are few in number and generally young as Kuhn notes:
Any new interpretation of nature, whether a discovery or a theory, emerges first in the mind of one or a few individuals. It is they who first learn to see science and the world differently, and their ability to make the transition is facilitated by two circumstances that are not common to most other members of their profession. Invariably their attention has been intensely concentrated upon the crisis-provoking problems; usually, in addition, they are men so young or so new to the crisis-ridden field that practice has committed them less deeply than most of their contemporaries to the world view and rules determined by the old paradigm.” (1962, 144)
2.65 Commitment is another term applied by Kuhn to define the type of talent required by normal science (Appendix and Table 1: Commitment 32 = 23/9/0, % 72/28/0):
Finally, at a still higher level, there is another set of commitments without which no man is a scientist. The scientist must, for example, be concerned to understand the world and to extend the precision and scope with which it has been ordered. That commitment must, in turn, lead him to scrutinize, either for himself or through colleagues, some aspect of nature in great empirical detail. And, if that scrutiny displays pockets of apparent disorder, then these must challenge him to a new refinement of his observational techniques or to a further articulation of his theories. Undoubtedly there are still other rules like these, ones which have held for scientists at all times.
The existence of this strong network of commitments - conceptual, theoretical, instrumental, and methodological - is a principal source of the metaphor that relates normal science to puzzle-solving. Because it provides rules that tell the practitioner of a mature specialty what both the world and his science are like, he can concentrate with assurance upon the esoteric problems that these rules and existing knowledge define for him. What then personally challenges him is how to bring the residual puzzle to a solution. In these and other respects a discussion of puzzles and of rules illuminates the nature of normal scientific practice. (1996, 42)
2.66 Kun identifies one other type of talent essential to normal sciences: instrumental talent: “the invention, construction, and deployment of … apparatus have demanded first-rate talent, much time, and considerable financial backing. Synchrotrons and radiotelescopes are only the most recent examples of the lengths to which research workers will go if a paradigm assures them that the facts they seek are important.” (1962, 25)
2.67 As noted above, one interesting omission from Kuhn’s tale of normal science: he institutionally never locates where it functions. As noted above, the word ‘university’ appears only three times (1962: vii, xiii; 1990: 7). This is reminiscent of the lack of any geographic dimension in economics which takes place in ‘cost and price space’ not physical space. Kuhn also says nothing about talent changing its commitment from ‘knowledge-for-knowledge’s-sake’ to ‘knowledge-for-profit”. Since 1962 a major trend has developed with normal scientists (and their host institutions) increasing becoming concerned with the intellectual property rights flowing from their puzzle-solving. Kuhn treats intellectual property as a free community resource. This has changed dramatically since 1962.
2.68 The most obvious example at present (2002) is biotechnology. Within the university there are leading researchers or ‘stars’ who play a significant role as innovators within the biotechnology sector of the economy (Zucker et al 1998: 293). Like Watson, Crick and Berg such ‘stars’ have the talent, knowledge and experience that leads them to new insights and breakthroughs. Their high profile tends to attract the best students who, in turn, become the ‘stars’ of the next generation. They also tend to attract the attention of the large well established firms.
2.69 It has, however, been argued, using a life-cycle model, that most scientists invest in developing a reputation early in their careers usually through publication in journals that signal the value of their knowledge to the scientific community. With maturity they seek ways to appropriate the economic value of their knowledge, e.g. through consultancy, work (full- or part-time) with established enterprise outside of the university or by joining or establishing a new firm (Audretsch and Stephan 1999). This appears to be especially true in biotechnology.
2.70 In the case of ‘scientific founders’ of new firms in pharmaceutical biotechnology some 50% followed the academic trajectory; 28% established their careers with large pharmaceutical companies; 13% followed a mix of the two while 6% established firms immediately following their academic training (Audretsch and Stephan 1998). It has also been argued that many new biotech firms are founded with the specific intent of selling them to large established firms (Arora and Gambardella 1990, p. 362).
2.71 A comparison can be drawn between talent in normal science and in the Arts including the literary, media, performing and visual arts (Chartrand 2000). In all four disciplines, artists tend to be independent and emotive. They do not fit well into the ‘technostructure’ (Galbraith, 1968) except where the organization itself is artistic such as a symphony, dance or theater company or architectural firm (Galbraith, 1973). In advertising, broadcasting, motion pictures and sound recording where enterprise is large and complex, dissonance between artists and management is usually solved by employing actors, composers, copyrighters, dancers, directors, producers and scriptwriters through smaller subsidiary firms. The parent company then confines itself to providing advertising, broadcasting, marketing, exhibition and/or production facilities.
2.72 In literary and visual art, the creative process tends to be solitary. The image of the solo writer painter is an approximate truth. When completed, a hand written manuscript or a painting is a finished work standing on its own. It can be immediately consumed, i.e. read or viewed. The process of creation and production of an artwork are one and the same.
2.73 The media and performing arts are interpretative and the creative process is collective and linked to production. A play, film script or musical score is usually created first but it comes to life only through the efforts of interpretative artists like actors, dancers or musicians and teams of artisans and technicians as well as directors, conductors and producers. This differentiates the ‘creative’ from ‘interpretative’ arts.
2.74 In all disciplines, some artists work as one-person-firms or in small partnerships engaging larger firms to market their product. There is a specialized sub-industry artists’ management made up of dealers and agents who negotiate rates, terms, conditions and scheduling for self-employed artists.
v – Theory
2.75 A theory is, according to the dictionary, a plausible or scientifically acceptable general principle or body of principles offered to explain phenomena. Its etymology is the Greek theoros or spectator. The question arises: spectator of what? Originally, it was theo or God, i.e., a spectator of God performing. In the Kuhnian case, theory can be stretched to embrace all the ‘codified’ knowledge about natural laws. The genesis of the term ‘natural law’ is the 17th century Scientific Revolution which involved:
[t]he observable recurrent associations of physical events, in which the philosophers and scientists of the period began to be interested, were interpreted as divine commands and were called natural laws. Thus the concept of natural law originated in theological ideas. Later these non-empirical components fell gradually into oblivion. Our historical investigation, therefore, will have to trace the idea of God as a lawgiver to nature and the influence of this idea on the rising natural sciences. (Zilsel 1942; 247)
2.76 As was seen above it was Robert Boyle who succeeded in isolating Nature (not, however, the human soul or angels) from the arbitrariness of both God and Humanity. For his part, Kuhn offers no definition of ‘theory’ even though he uses it or related phrases 145 times. The closest he comes is, by exception, in the 1969 Postscript. In the process, however, he appears to crack the gestalt integrity of his paradigm concept. (Appendix and Table 1: Theory 145 = 117/20/8, % 81/14/6; baseline % 79/16/5).
Scientists themselves would say they share a theory or set of theories, and I shall be glad if the term can ultimately be recaptured for this use. As currently used in philosophy of science, however, ‘theory’ connotes a structure far more limited in nature and scope than the one required here. Until the term can be freed from its current implications, it will avoid confusion to adopt another. For present purposes I suggest ‘disciplinary matrix’: ‘disciplinary’ because it refers to the common possession of the practitioners of a particular discipline; ‘matrix’ because it is composed of ordered elements of various sorts, each requiring further specification. All or most of the objects of group commitment that my original text makes paradigms, parts of paradigms, or paradigmatic are constituents of the disciplinary matrix, and as such they form a whole and function together. They are, however, no longer to be discussed as though they were all of a piece. (1996, 182)
2.77 With regard to Boyle’s segregation of nature and Kuhn’s cracking of the normal science paradigm it is important to keep our definitions straight. Kuhn in 1962 was concerned only with the ‘natural sciences’, specifically acquisition of natural scientific knowledge. This is the realm of matter, energy, their interactions and transformations. Its etymological root is the Greek word physis meaning the material or physical world. In 1969 he was concerned with this and, in addition, with responding to critics especially those from philosophy and sociology. His change from an historically based gestalt paradigm to a ‘disciplinary matrix’ is, to my eye, and to coin a phrase, a ‘sociologism’. (Appendix and Table 1: Philosophy 58 = 41/12/5; % 71/21/9; Sociology 9 = 5/4/0; % 56/44/0; baseline % 79/16/5).
c) Exogenous Factors
2.78 The sealed Pelican was, of course, subject to one external influence – heat. The influence of heat changed the character of the prima materia. Outside the normal science paradigm there are also factors influencing its operation. While he makes only passing reference Kuhn indicates they can seriously affect, for better or ill, the operation of his paradigm – depending if it is a paradigm or post-paradigm situation. Four will be examined. They are:
iii - External Forces; and,
2.79 Kuhn makes seven references to aesthetics. He notes that the only person with whom he successfully communicated his concept (before publication) was a philosopher concerned with ethics and aesthetics, Stanley Cavell, of Berkeley (1962, xiii). The closest, however, Kuhn comes to a definition is: “These are the arguments, rarely made entirely explicit, that appeal to the individual’s sense of the appropriate or the aesthetic - the new theory is said to be “neater,” “more suitable,” or “simpler” than the old.” (1962, 155). He also notes the role aesthetics may play in the conversion of talent to a new paradigm (1962; 156, 158). But what is aesthetics? (Appendix and Table 1: Aesthetic 7 = 6/1/0, % 86/14/0)
2.80 The dictionary defines aesthetics as a branch of philosophy dealing with the nature of beauty, art, and taste and with the creation and appreciation of beauty. Etymologically, it derives from the Greek aisthesis which means at root “taking in” and “breathing in” - a “gasp”, that is the primary aesthetic response. (Hillman 1980, 30).
2.81 As to the relationship of aesthetics and beauty, the word kosmos, in Greek, means the right placing of the multiple things of the world; not a Star Trek universe out there where no one has gone before. This right placing of the multiple things is beauty - the comely or harmonious coming together of parts. And the means by which this right order is brought about is Art. In fact, the only contemporary word retaining this original Greek meaning of kosmos is cosmetic, a gift of the Goddess Aphrodite. This right ordering of the universe also had, originally, a moral imperative: kalon kagathon - the beautiful and the good. Thus the sense of wholeness, of rightness is aesthetic knowledge. And of this, the poet wrote:
Beauty is truth, truth beauty that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
John Keats, Ode to a Grecian Urn, Stanza 2.
2.82 It is primarily in the Arts that imagination comes fully into its own. It through Art that imagination is seen as that grasp of wholeness in all its qualitative relationships. It is a way of seeing and feeling things as they compose an integral whole. The whole person is involved, for imagination is what happens when varied materials of sense quality, emotion, and meaning come together in a union that makes a new birth in the world (Sloane 1991, 38). Or, as Griffin writes: “Creativity is that process or activity by which ‘the many become one, and are increased by one’” (Griffin 1991, 10). With respect to Structure, artistic creativity connects to the natural sciences through ‘natural laws’. While the scientists is faced by an established set of natural laws over which he or she puzzles, the artist carries on the alchemistic tradition of creating new worlds through creation ex nihilo, i.e., out of nothing like God (Nahm 1947). For the artists such laws are to be transcended, e.g., portraying three dimensional reality in a two dimensional space.
2.83 It is, however, when a work of art is confronted by a human subject that a direct connection can be made with Kuhn’s use of ‘gestalt’. There is both gestalt psychology and gestalt aesthetics.
A school of psychology that originated in Germany in the early 20th century: Wolfgang Köhler and Kurt Koffka were its founders. It regards mental processes as wholes (gestalts) that cannot be analysed into smaller components. According to this theory, when something is learned the individual's entire perception of the environment has been changed.
The Macmillan Encyclopedia 2001, Market House Books Ltd 2000
A term imported into modern art criticism from psychology. Gestalt psychology, founded by Max Wertheimer, Kurt Koffka and Wolfgang Kohler, holds that the parts are determined by the whole, and that all experience, including aesthetic experience, is related to certain basic structures which cannot be subdivided. Gestalt criticism is opposed to the idea of empathy, and holds that we do not ourselves project aesthetic and emotional qualities into the work of art, but find them there waiting for us. Defenders of minimal art claim that the spectator finds a 'good Gestalt' in the most primary forms.
The Thames & Hudson Dictionary of Art Terms, Thames & Hudson Ltd, 1984.
2.85 It is this sense of ‘rightness’ that characterizes the aesthetic experience. It is ‘pre-analytic’, that is, it precedes analysis. The gasp when examined breaks down into parts and the ‘wholeness’ of the experience, the magic, disappears. Aesthetically this observation can be applied to both Kuhn’s 1969 Postscript and 1990 The Road since Structure. In response to his critics Kuhn attempts to analyze what is an aesthetic and intellectual gestalt – the paradigm of normal science and scientific revolutions. In the process the tightness, the rightness of his concept is torn asunder and replaced by a ‘disciplinary matrix’ (1969, 182).
2.85 Aesthetics as a separate branch of philosophy appeared in the late 18th century with the German philosopher Baumgarten (Kristeller 1953, 35). It is important to note that “[t]he original meaning of the term aesthetics as coined by Baumgarten… is the theory of sensuous knowledge, as a counterpart to logic as a theory of intellectual knowledge.” (Kristeller 1953, 34) As observed above part of the aesthetic problem lays in differentiating between the distant senses of sight and sound and the near senses of touch, taste and smell (Berleant 1964). To the degree that aesthetics restricts itself to the distant senses, the effect of scientific instruments in extending or ‘distancing’ the human senses offers a link with what on the surface appear two distinct knowledge domains.
2.86 Another part of the problem, however, lay in separating aesthetics from ethics, i.e. separating the beautiful from the good. In fact, the separation of knowledge domains from ethics (specifically from the Christian Church) is a repeated pattern in the development of knowledge in the West. In a sense it involves the ‘objectification’ of knowledge previously considered ethical or religious in nature. Thus the emergence of the Humanities in the 15th and 16th centuries marked the separation of politics from ethics. This eventually led to the secular nation-state. In the 17th century, nature was separated from ethics by Robert Boyle. This led to the ‘Scientific Revolution’. In the late 18th century, the Arts separated from ethics. This led to modern aesthetics and a separation of the beautiful from the good. In the late 18th and early 19th century, society was separated from ethics with the emergence of the social sciences, e.g., Adam Smith and Comte. It could, by extension be argued that in the late 20th and early 21st centuries life is being separated from ethics through biotechnology. It would be interesting to contrast the ethical debates surrounding these preceding schisms of knowledge from ethics with the contemporary debate surrounding biotechnology.
2.87 To return, however, to the separation of the beautiful from the good, this led first to the Romantics in the late 18th and early 19th centuries followed by the ‘Art for Art's Sake Movement’ in the late 19th century that consciously and deliberately separated the Arts from an increasingly industrialized, ‘de- humanized’ society (Henderson 1984: 46). This led the high arts and the artist to become increasingly isolated from mainstream society (Bell 1976: 13-14). Similarly, Structures (as well as the work of Polanyi) appears as an apologia for an incipient ‘Science-for-Science’s-Sake Movement, a movement which, as will be seen below, has been significantly weakened since Kuhn penned his original text in 1962.
2.88 While Kuhn explicitly excuses himself from treating the biological sciences (1962, xi), he uses the term or variations on ‘evolution’ twenty-eight times. Such references are most frequent in the 1990 “The Road since Structure” where there is a reference to evolution on one page in five. To the degree evolution involves a self-contained organism functioning in an external environment, it implies external factors and forces with which normal science must deal. The closest Kuhn comes to a definition is when he denies teleological purpose in the development of normal science: (Appendix and Table 1: Evolution 28 = 20/2/6, % 71/7/21).
The developmental process described in this essay has been a process of evolution from primitive beginnings - a process whose successive stages are characterized by an increasingly detailed and refined understanding of nature. But nothing that has been or will be said makes it a process of evolution toward anything… Does it really help to imagine that there is some one full, objective, true account of nature and that the proper measure of scientific achievement is the extent to which it brings us closer to that ultimate goal? If we can learn to substitute evolution-from-what-we-do-know for evolution-toward-what-we-wish-to-know, a number of vexing problems may vanish in the process. (1962 170-171)
2.89 He goes on argue that “the resolution of revolutions is the selection by conflict within the scientific community of the fittest way to practice future science.” (1962, 171) He suggests that successive stages in this evolution process lead to “an increase in articulation and specialization… without benefit of a set goal, a permanent fixed scientific truth, of which each stage in the development of scientific knowledge is a better exemplar.” (1962, 171-172)
2.90 It is, however, in “The Road since Structure” that what was but one of a number of metaphors (e.g., crisis, normal science, revolution) for the growth of scientific knowledge becomes the centerpiece for his proposed future analysis: “Basically, I shall be trying to sketch the form which I think any viable evolutionary epistemology has to take. I shall, that is, be returning to the evolutionary analogy introduced in the very last pages of the first edition of Structure, attempting both to clarify it and to push it further.” (1990, 6, italics added). He goes on to say: “scientific development must be seen as a process driven from behind, not pulled from ahead - as evolution from, rather than evolution towards.” (1990, 7) He then takes the evolutionary argument and applies it to “the incommensurability between the theories of contemporary scientific specialties” (1990, 7). He concludes: “[o]ver time a diagram of the evolution of scientific fields, specialties, and sub-specialties comes to look strikingly like a layman’s diagram for a biological evolutionary tree. Each of these fields has a distinct lexicon, though the differences are local, occuring only here and there. There is no lingua franca capable of expressing, in its entirety, the content of them all or even of any pair.” (1990, 7-8)
2.91 A concept related to evolution is ‘emergence’. Kuhn references it or variations 62 times. As with evolution, there is a disproportionate frequency in the 1990 “The Road since Structure”. (Appendix and Table 1: Emergence 62 = 51/4/7, % 82/6/11, % baseline 79/16/5)
2.92 To better appreciate and understand the ways in which organizations adapt to a changing environment Fred Emery and Eric Trist published Towards a Social Ecology (Emery and Trist 1972). Of “emergent processes”, such as those suggested by Kuhn, they observe:
One suspects that the important social processes typically emerge like this. They start small, they grow and only then do people realize that their world has changed and that this process exists with characteristics of its own. Granted that there are genuine emergent processes (otherwise why worry about the next thirty years), then we must accept real limitations upon what we can predict and also accept that we have to live for some time with the future before we recognize it as such. (Emery and Trist 1972, 25)
2.93 Such processes require resources. In their early stages of development their energy requirements are met parasitically. i.e., they appear to be something else. It has, in fact, been argued that the Scientific Revolution was made possible by the support of certain Protestant churches trying to root their faith in God’s work called ‘nature’ and escape the words and opinions of popes, bishops and philosophers (Merton 1936; Jacob 1978; Jacob and Jacob 1980). This is a major reason why key emergents are typically unrecognized for what they are while other less demanding but novel processes are quickly seen.
2.94 As they grow, so do their energy and resource requirements. They nonetheless remain hidden from view by, in effect, sharing parts of existing institutions, e.g., Church-run universities. However,
[b]ecause it is a growing process, its energy requirements will be substantially greater (relative to what it appears to do) than the energy requirements of the maturer process which it apes. Because it is not what it appears to be, the process will stretch or distort the meanings and usage of the vocabulary which it has appropriated. (Emery and Trist 1972, 25)
2.95 At some point the energy and resource requirements of such emergent processes leads to symptoms of debility in the host structure that finds it increasing difficult to mobilize resources and meet new demands. As development continues symptoms of intrusion within the host structure appear and when the new structure becomes roughly equal in energy and resources with the host, mutual invasion occurs:
At this stage it should be obvious that there is a newly emerging system but mutual retardation and the general ambivalence and lack of decisiveness may still lead the new system to be seen simply as a negation of the existing system. (Emery and Trist 1972, 26)
2.96 Application of such concepts may yield significant insights into the development of scientific knowledge and especially the emergence of new sub-disciplines and specialties. But while Kuhn makes extensive use of both evolution and emergent processes, it is important to appreciate the ‘ahistorical’ nature of his paradigm.
The depreciation of historical fact is deeply, and probably functionally, ingrained in the ideology of the scientific profession, the same profession that places the highest of all values upon factual details of other sorts. Whitehead caught the unhistorical spirit of the scientific community when he wrote, “A science that hesitates to forget its founders is lost.” (1962, 138)
2.97 It is appropriate in this regard to appreciate that a sense of rectilinear history is itself a relatively recent concept. In this sense Kuhn’s ‘metahistorical’ model is quite ‘archaic’:
In short, it would be necessary to confront “historical man” (modern man), who consciously and voluntarily creates history, with the man of the traditional civilizations, who, as we have seen, had a negative attitude toward history. Whether he abolishes it periodically, whether he devaluates it by perpetually finding transhistorical models and archetypes for it, whether, finally, he gives it a metahistorical meaning (cyclical theory, eschatological significations, and so on), the man of the traditional civilizations accorded the historical event no value in itself; in other words, he did not regard it as a specific category of his own mode of existence.
(Eliade 1974, p. 141)
2.98 If economics is the study of the allocation of scarce resources in satisfying a changing, increasingly complex and growing array of human wants, needs and desires then:
a) politics is about the scarce resource “Power”, specifically the legitimate power of the State to exercise, in theory, a monopoly of coercive force, i.e., violence. This monopoly is directed towards the preservation and extension of the State against external and internal agencies that weaken or threaten it. To the degree such a teleological purpose is served, it has been named “The Minotaur” (De Jouvenel 1948);
b) religion is about the scarce resource “Faith”, specifically faith in a religio, a linking back to and future recovery of an original Creation in all its divine perfection, i.e., before the ravishes of time rusted and the corruption of humanity spoiled it. Epistemologically, in Western history, since the fall of Rome, there has been a progressive separation from religious ethics of emerging domains of knowledge – the Humanities, the Natural & Engineering Sciences, the Arts and the Social Sciences. If any Faith realized its belief, e.g., through the agency of (a) or (c), then all domains of knowledge would collapse under the umbrella of the winning Church. Even without all out victory, religion has and continues to place limitations (that vary between Faiths) on normal science, e.g., fetal tissue research ; and,
c) sociology is about the scarce resource “Cooperation”, specifically the cooperation of self-interested individuals acting in groups (collective action) to achieve common goals or objectives that may reward, transcend and/or threaten the narrow self-interest of the individual. The changing threshold between individual and society has led one observer to describe the human species as a “social solitaire” (Bronowski 1973). Both (a) and (b) can be viewed as resources applied to strengthen the ‘social’ side of the frontier and contain the ‘solitaire’ passions of human nature. Economics is another. By first satisfying the elemental needs of a solitaire for food and shelter against nature, economics creates a correspondence between the self-interest of the individual and the needs of society. As a society grows in number of individuals and complexity, economics struggles to satisfy a changing and increasingly complex array of wants, needs and desires, e.g., DVDs and Rebocks.
2.99 With only a passing reference to the external pressure for an improved calendar influencing Copernicus (1962, xii), Kuhn places the natural sciences inside a sealed Pelican immune to the forces of economics, politics, religion and society as a whole. In a detailed analysis of the origins and nature of Structure, Steve Fuller, among other things, finds it:
a) originated as a pedagogic teaching tool for the General Education in Science curriculum at Harvard. This explains its relatively non-technical nature as well as its subsequent appeal to humanists and social scientists;
b) was an apologia for the ‘dirty hands’ problem of ‘Big Science’ resulting from the Manhattan Project and application of normal science for purposes of a military-industrial complex that emerged during the Second World War in the United States. Hence there is no mention in Structure of the enormous resources required by ‘Big Science’, resources so great that the scientific community is simply unable, on its own, to provide them. If it is to get them from society, it must convince and then ‘pay the piper’ the minimum price possible and avoid external contamination of purpose. In this regard, it is appropriate to note that two years before Structure was published another American scholar released On Thermonuclear War (Kahn 1960); and,
c) was a protest by Kuhn against the changing practice of natural science, specifically “Big Science’ in physics, a discipline in which he was trained but never practiced (Fuller 2000, 388). In a way, Structure represents Kuhn’s attempt at religio, to return to ‘pure science’. His references (and objections) to the Orwellian nature of scientific pedagogy shows, however, that Kuhn’s does not seek a strict religio as such. In fact, his belief appears atheistic, materialistic or Epicurean in philosophical root. This is indicated by his comments about resistance of some scientists to Darwinian evolution because of its non-teleological nature, i.e., evolution from, rather than evolution towards, Structure is about change without purpose.
This need not be so for two reasons. First, even if evolution is ‘from’ rather than ‘towards’, one teleological characteristic of evolution remains: the ever increasing complexity of life. It is only ‘catastrophe’ that breaks the anti-entropic pattern of increasing complexity of living things. Second, ‘dirty hands’ is something that the Church has dealt with for millennia: from whence evil? Science, like God and like the Arts (Chartrand 1992), is not summum bonum, all good. Neither are they all bad. Thus Kuhn leaves unmentioned the technological spin-offs of normal science that have enhanced the material well being and contributed to the global dominance of the human species, i.e., normal science is a cultural artifact of evolutionary importance.
2.100 Kuhn explicitly draws upon gestalt and cognitive psychology. According to Fuller, however, he was also familiar with psychoanalysis, i.e., Freudian psychiatry, having taken treatment (Fuller 2000, 381, 2ff). His use of ‘gestalt switching’ to define the conversion process whereby a natural scientist moves from one paradigm to another demonstrates the influence of gestalt psychology. As noted above this also connects to his references to aesthetics through gestalt aesthetics. Structure succeeds, in my view, because of what I choose to call the ‘Rorschach effect’. In effect the ‘Rorschach Ink Blot Test’ involves a subject reading into an image what he or she wants to see, just like the alchemist huddled over a Pelican patiently observing the making of the Philosopher’s Stone. Fuller describes what I call the “Rorscach Effect” when he notes a:
common thread that runs through the formal and informal comments that people make about the book is that it is quite thin in their own field of expertise, but truly enlightening in some other field, one in which they have had an interest for a long time, but could not locate a suitable point of scholarly intersection. We might say, then, roughly speaking, that Structure has a philosopher’s sense of sociology, a historian’s sense of philosophy, and a sociologist’s sense of history. A text with these characteristics is assured a good reception just as long as the practitioners of the different disciplines continue talking only to their own colleagues and not to those of the field which Kuhn supposedly represents so well for them. At that point, the day when (if!) inquiry despecializes, the attraction of Kuhn will fade. (Fuller 1992, 174-175)
2.101 Until that day, however, the aesthetic success of Structure is assured. Kuhn achieves “what Joseph Campbell calls the moment of “aesthetic arrest,” the aesthetic attitude” (Henderson, 1984, 49). The connection between Kuhn’s psychological and aesthetic gestalts highlights what Henderson concludes about the relationship of an aesthetic:
affinity with a devotion to science which we know is one of the most sustaining aspects of any culture in maintaining a high degree of patient observation of the phenomena of nature, promoting mankind’s consciousness of its place in the world. Natural science is essentially dependent upon that type of observation by which the pure aesthetic experience is stabilized in an attitude from which fresh discoveries can be made. (Henderson 1984, 49)
2.102 It should be noted, however, in Henderson’s investigation of the four primary cultural attitudes: social, religious, aesthetic and philosophical, he excludes a ‘scientific attitude’:
I do recognize, however, that there is something unique in any evolved scientific attitude, which is neither philosophic nor aesthetic but only itself, and it is precisely this sense of uniqueness that we also find in the psychological attitude which animates the heuristic method of our present study. It may be that this method will reveal not only the existence of a psychological attitude but that of a scientific attitude of which the psychological is a part. But certainly, because of their so very recent appearance in history, we cannot claim for science or psychology the same epistemological authenticity that we can demonstrate in the four basic cultural attitudes as they originated and grew out of history into their contemporary forms. (Henderson 1984, 77)
2.103 The ‘newness’ and fragility of an incipient ‘scientific attitude’ is capture in Kuhn’s words:
Just how special that community must be if science is to survive and grow may be indicated by the very tenuousness of humanity’s hold on the scientific enterprise. Every civilization of which we have records has possessed a technology, an art, a religion, a political system, laws, and so on. In many cases those facets of civilization have been as developed as our own. But only the civilizations that descend from Hellenic Greece have possessed more than the most rudimentary science. The bulk of scientific knowledge is a product of Europe in the last four centuries. No other place and time has supported the very special communities from which scientific productivity comes. (1962, 167-168)
2.104 While the main 1962 text is gestalt in nature by the 1990 article “Road since Structure”, Kuhn seems to have adopted cognitive psychology in which ‘cognitive evolution’ plays the central role (1990, 11). Cognitive psychology is a materialist psychology in which the structures of the brain that are objects of observation. It is non-teleological, in keeping with Kuhn’s views of evolution and of normal science. This ‘conversion’ of Kuhn from gestalt to cognitive psychology is matched by his shift from a history of science perspective in the main 1962 text to a sociology of science in the 1969 Postscript.
2.105 One school of psychology not applied by Kuhn is, alternatively, known as analytic, complex, depth or Jungian psychology. This school provides the foundation for The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator®, one of, if not the most, widely used psychological testing instrument in the world today. In short, the Jungian approach to knowledge is a binary, tri-directional, four-fold functional model of the human psyche (Fig. 4 - A Complex Psychology View of The Human Psyche) fueled by the compensatory flow of libido or psychic energy. There are five distinct features to the model:
a) Conscious/Unconscious (composed of distinct ‘complexes’ or ‘archetypes’ including the ‘ego’);
b) Introvert/Extrovert/Centrovert (direction of attention)
c) Intellect, Intuition, Emotion & Sensation (ways of knowing);
d) Individuation (teleological objective); and,
e) Compensation (flow of libido or psychic energy).
A Complex Psychology View of The Human Psyche
2.106 With the notable exception of teleological individuation, the Jungian model offers a number of ‘scholarly intersections’ to Structure. Extraordinary science depends on ‘intuition’ which Kuhn claims may never be understood (1962, 88-89). He relies on emotion in the guise of aesthetics which, in Jungian psychology, has been explored and striking ‘exemplars’ (1969, 187) or archetypes found. Their application to physics and the other natural sciences has been demonstrated explicitly by Card (Card, 1996) and implicitly in Holton’s analysis of ‘themata’ in scientific thought (Holton 1975). As for sensation, the Jungian model admits it as an equal ‘way or faculty of knowing’. Sensation, however, tends in an individual to be subordinated, as is intuition, to one of the two (usually) dominant ‘judgmental’ faculties: intellect or emotion. It is the unique way, and pattern within a culture, that the individual ‘blends’ these faculties that defines the individuation process and, perhaps, different human cultures.
2.107 The clearest if somewhat ‘obscene’ (originally meaning ‘behind the scene’) connection drawn to date between the intellectual and sensation faculties is found in the 1999 novel Pilgrim by Timothy Findley (an avowed Jungian). When Jung (in inner conversation), very late at night, tries to tell his wife Emma about a new theory (shortly after she has learned he is having an affair):
“Emma, please. Just stay awake long enough to hear one last thing.”
“Yes, Carl Gustav. But tell it quickly.”
Jung sat forward. He had - but why? - an erection.
You get too excited, Carl Gustav. You get too excited about ideas.
I can’t - I can’t help it. Oh, dear. Pray God she can’t see me.
It wouldn’t matter if she did. She isn’t interested. Not now.
I hadn’t thought I wanted to - but there it is. Jesus. Look at it.
1 don’t need to look at it. I can feel it. What you suffer from - amongst other things - is nothing less than intellectual priapism. It’s that simple. Get an idea - get an erection.
2.108 On the methodological level, application of The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator® could provide a quantitative means of answering at least some of Kuhn’s concerns about who becomes a natural scientist. Who will be most productive in normal or extraordinary science? Is there a balance or dynamic between the different types in science, Big and small? Furthermore, Kuhn himself seems sensitive to the ‘cultural matrix’ of a paradigm:
As a result of the paradigm-embodied experience of the race, the culture, and, finally, the profession, the world of the scientist has come to be populated with planets and pendulums, condensers and compound ores, and other such bodies besides. Compared with these objects of perception, both meter stick readings and retinal imprints are elaborate constructs to which experience has direct access only when the scientist, for the special purposes of his research, arranges that one or the other should do so.” (1962, 128)
2.109 However, just as Kuhn is concerned about preserving normal science from ‘reason for gain’, James Hillman is concerned about Jungian psychology. In his fascinating 1980 monograph: Egalitarian Typologies versus The Perception of the Unique, he explores another facet of gestalt – faces. He notes how applying Jung’s typology, e.g., The Myers-Briggs Type Indicator® is in fact alien to the fundamental nature of depth psychology – the unique individual and the individuation process.
A Pearl without Price
3.01 Another metaphor, in depth psychology, for the Philosopher’s Stone is ‘a pearl without price’. Rather than cooked in a Pelican, the pearl is retrieved from the depths of the unconscious at great risk to the diver. Structure is a pearl without price. It succeeds, in my opinion, in identifying the process by which the most powerful epistemological force in contemporary society works – normal science as puzzle-solving. It explains the disproportionate rate of progress attained in the natural (and engineering) sciences compared to all other knowledge domains: the arts, the humanities and the social sciences. Structure does so with a powerful gestalt (a pre-analytic image) that has captured the hearts and minds of scholars in all knowledge domains and altered the epistemological and the academic landscape.
3.02 It did so, however, at a price – incommensurability. Puzzle-solving breeds specialization; this is part of the normal science paradigm. As new sub-disciplines bud and flower along the evolutionary tree, new self-contained worlds are created that cannot communicate effectively. If C.P. Snow identified ‘two cultures’ and their incommensurability then Structure, like a diamond cutter’s pestle, has cut many, many more facets on the gemstone of knowledge (Snow 1959). The Rorschach nature of Structure has authorized not just the natural and engineering sciences but also the humanities, social sciences and the arts to fission into a growing plethora of incommensurate sub-disciplines and genres. To the degree that such incommensurability is the natural outcome of epistemological evolution, well and good. To the degree it enhances the ‘progressiveness’ of these other knowledge domains, all the better. Too often, however, one suspects obscurity is chosen for the sake of hermetic obscurity like the alchemists who wrote in code to ensure the Church (and the Inquisition) could not understand what was written (obscurum per obscurius: to know the obscure by the more obscure).
3.03 Certainly the instrumental limitations of the arts, humanities and social sciences should give pause before over-structuring Structure into their disciplinary and sub-disciplinary organization. The aesthetic and psychological qualities of ‘extraordinary science’ that fuel Kuhn’s exposition in the main 1962 text should also encourage them not to throw the baby out with the bathwater. Kuhn’s ‘sociologicalization’ which is evident in the 1969 Postscript should also inhibit any tendency to apply Structure to these domains without at least a good working understanding of the distinct characteristics of the social solitaires that make them up.
3.04 In my opinion, it is only in the 1990 “Road since Structure” that any justification for its ‘blind’ application to the entire epistemological sphere can be found. In it Kuhn reveals himself as an Epicurean, atheistic, non-teleological materialist for whom ultimately knowledge and consciousness itself can be reduced to atoms, molecules, neurons and lobes. Knowledge and consciousness may well be like hadrons – protons and neutrons, once seen as indivisible parts of the atom but now recognized as the field effect of relationalism, i.e., of quarks. In the main 1962 text Kuhn uses the analogy of ducks and rabbits to explain how two observers of the same objective reality see different things (1962, 111). To take the metaphor in another direction, if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, has web feet like a duck then chances are it is a duck. Whether or not consciousness, and hence knowledge, is nothing but an epiphenomenal effect of physical matter, it is real and must be dealt with and understood using appropriate instruments, instruments that can never match the precision of physical scientific ones. Furthermore in these other domains resulting measurement will, for the foreseeable future, remain subject to mediation by a human subject exercising human judgment.
3.05 Finally, the epistemological fissioning ignited by Structure threatens a wider fragmentation of human society with a concomitant increase in incommensurability. This may partially explain why the nation-state (as a collection of citizens who are commensurate) appears to be weakening before more specialized institutions like the modern corporation, the professions and even the ‘world community of scientists’. Perhaps it will lead to one world government. Inevitably, however, the level of incommensurability will rise. When people can not communicate, they tend to fight.
3.06 Alternatively, all of the burgeoning fields of human knowledge may become unified under one paradigm, again. Perhaps unified field theory in physics will explain all physical phenomena from the sub-atomic to the cosmic including the psychic using one gestalt. At the beginning of ‘Western’ history, all forms of knowledge were firmly within the grasp of a single theological paradigm. There are forces at play in the post-modern world – Buddhist, Christian, Hebrew, Hindu and Islamic - that actively seek religio. The implications for ‘pure’ science have historically been demonstrated. ‘Normal’ science would take on an old dogmatic meaning.
3.07 There are, however, other ways. These include: the ‘anti-dogmatics’ of Pollack (1971); the ‘interference systems or standing waves’ of Jantsch (1975); the ‘individuation’ process of Jung; and, most appropriately, the paradigmatology of Mauryama (1974). Like an optometrist rotating different lenses in front of one’s eyes to test vision, a scholar (in fact, every citizen) need learn how to shift paradigms. Fuller suggests that Structure holds the hidden message that citizens must learn about science while scientists need not learn about citizenship. Since Structure in 1962, transitivity has not been attained. In the case of biotechnology, the magnitude of risk has mobilized social (including religious) forces in a battle against scientific and industrial communities arguing probabilities. Incommensurability reigns. Both are right. The actuarial equation, however, has not been completed: the magnitude of loss times the probability of loss equals the magnitude of gain times the probability of gain. But, alas, the public does not understand probability!
3.08 An example, modeled on Mauryama, may demonstrate paradigmatology in action. Consider a social worker consulting a client family made up of an alcoholic father, a promiscuous mother and a number of delinquent children. This is an objective reality that must be shared using a vocabulary that permits communication. The social worker returns to an office where this ‘objective reality’ is discussed using another language. In turn, the case worker reports to an administrative supervisor (in yet another language) who, in turn, reports to a ‘political master’ using yet another language. In each case the same objective reality is under investigation yet fundamentally different paradigms are in play.
3.09 It is the self-conscious awareness of this ‘process reality’ that paradigmatology would hopefully teach. With my mind’s eye I see it drawing distinct traits from each the primary knowledge domains. For example, from the Arts it could draw increasing tolerance of difference – of the new and novel, old and revered, white and black, green and blue… From the Humanities & Social Sciences it could inherit a sense of value and proportion including a sense of humor and self-deprecation such as the image of humanity as a single species living on a single planet in a lonely celestial desert and/or a universe populated by angels and devils – some alien, some domestic – promising and threatening humanity’s very soul. From the natural and engineering sciences could come more puzzle-solving and scientific revolutions with but one change, awareness of paradigmatology.
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Frequency Term Index of The Structure of Scientific Revolutions & Related Works
The following colour codes indicate additions to the initial index prepared by Peter J. Riggs (3rd Edition, 1996, pp. 211-212) made by the present author in November 2002:
Black Peter J. Riggs
Red 1962 main text 182 pages including Preface, pp. vii-xiv, 1-173.
Green 1969 Postscript, 37 pages, pp. 174-210.
Pink 1990 The Road since Structure, 11 pages, pp. 3-13.
Adhoc, 13, 30, 78, 83
Alfonso X, 69
Aesthetic, xiii, 33, 72, 155, 156, 158, 186 (7 = 6/1/0)
Annual stellar parallax, 26
Anomalies, 62-64, 67, 82, 87, 113
Archimedes, 15, 123
Aristarchus, 75, 76
Aristotle, 2, 10, 12, 15, 48, 66-69, 72, 104, 118-20, 121-25, 140, 148, 163
Art, 38, 79, 83, 121, 160, 161, 162, 165, 167, 168, 186, 208 (12 = 10/2/0)
Bacon, Sir Francis, 16, 18, 28, 37, 170
Biology, x, xi, 15, 21, 172, 176, 206, 7, 8, 10, 11 (11 = 5/2/4
Black, J., 15,70
Boyle, R., 28, 41, 141-43
Brahe, Tycho, 26, 156
Cognitive, 109, 188, 3, 7, 8, 11 (6 = 1/1/4)
Commit, ix, x, 4, 5, 6, 7, 11, 25, 28, 40, 41, 42, 60, 78, 90, 93, 100, 101, 104, 125, 136, 144, 151, 176, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 203, 205 (32 = 23/9/0)
Community, ix, x, xi, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10, 11, 37, 43, 45, 46, 47, 49, 61, 92, 94, 101, 103, 107, 108, 111, 122, 128, 136, 138, 140, 145, 152, 153, 156, 159, 162, 163, 164, 165, 166, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 173, 174, 175, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 193, 200, 202, 203, 204, 205, 209, 4, 5, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 (74 = 45/22/7)
Conceptual Boxes, 5, 152
Consensus, 11, 15, 153, 161, 173
Convert, 115, 144, 148, 150, 152, 153, 155, 158, 159, 189 (10 = 9/1/0)
Copernicus (and/or Copernicism): 6, 8, 26, 67-69, 71, 74-76, 82, 83, 115-16, 128, 149, 150, 152- 53, 154-55, 157, 158
Coulomb, C., 21, 28-29, 33, 35
Crafts, 15, 161, 205 (3 = 2/1/0)
Crisis, 67-75, 80, 82, 84-86, 181
Cumulative process, 2-3, 52, 84, 95, 96, 161
Dalton, J. (and/or Dalton’s chemistry), 78, 106, 130-35, 139, 141
Darwin, C., 20, 151, 171-72
De Broglie, L., 158
Descartes, R. (or Cartesian), 41, 48, 121, 126, 148, 150
Design, 5, 18, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 31, 34, 35, 36, 39, 59, 70, 73, 74, 82, 96, 107, 125, 130, 166, 172, 189, 192, 205, 4 (27 = 23/3/1)
“Different Worlds,” 118, 150
Discipline, 2, 8, 19, 37, 83, 137, 138, 161, 165, 167, 182, 184, 185, 186, 187, 9 (16 = 10/5/1)
Discovery, 53, 62, 96-97
Economics, xii, 103, 118, 161 (4 = 4/0/0)
Einstein, A., 6-7, 12, 26,44, 66, 74, 83, 89, 98-99, 101-2, 108, 143, 148-49, 153, 155, 158, 165
Education, 5, 46, 165, 166, 167, 177, 187, 193, 196, 204, 209, 10 (12 = 5/6/1)
Electricity, 4, 13-15, 16, 17-18, 20-22, 28, 35, 61-62, 106-7, 117-18
Emergent, viii, x, xi, xii, 1, 3, 6, 14, 16, 18, 29, 34, 52, 56, 57, 58, 61, 62, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 72, 74, 77, 78, 80, 84, 85, 86, 88, 89, 93, 95, 96, 98, 103, 106, 108, 116, 118, 123, 132, 137, 141, 144, 147, 152, 172, 177, 184, 188, 201, 1, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 (62 = 51/4/7)
Epistemology, 8, 78, 96, 121, 126, 6 (6 = 5/0/1)
Esoteric problems, 24
Essential tension, 79
Evolution, 20, 21, 39, 43, 59, 62, 72, 76, 82, 84, 93, 94, 95, 141, 143, 160, 170, 171, 172, 173, 203, 205, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 11 (28 =20/2/6)
Extraordinary science, 82-89
Falsification, 77-79, 146-47
Franklin, B., 10, 13, 15, 17, 18, 20, 62, 106, 118, 122, 151
Galilei, Galileo, 3, 29, 31, 48, 67, 118-20, 121-25, 139-40
Geology, 10, 22, 48
Gestalt Switch, vi, 63, 85, 111-14, 150
Gestalt, viii, 85, 111, 112, 113, 114, 117, 120, 122, 150, 189, 204, 11 (13 = 10/2/1)
History, vii, viii, ix, x, xi, xii, xiii, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 7, 8, 10, 11, 13, 15, 16, 17, 19, 21, 22, 24, 28, 30, 40, 41, 43, 46, 52, 53, 67, 69, 70, 71, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 85, 86, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 107, 108, 111, 113, 114, 115, 116, 117, 118, 120, 121, 127, 136, 137, 138, 139, 140, 141, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 158, 161, 162, 165, 166, 167, 176, 177, 179, 189, 196, 201, 202, 203, 206, 208, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9 (96 = 80/10/6)
Humanity, 167 (1 = 1/0/0)
Hutton, J., 15
Incommensurability, 103, 112, 148, 150, 198ff
Instrument, 10, 26, 36, 37, 39, 40, 41, 42, 47, 59, 60, 79, 96, 98, 99, 111, 114, 116, 117, 122, 130, 141, 159, 166, 169, 172, 173, 181, 187, 196, 205, 206 (32 = 27/5/0)
Intuition, 123, 191 (2 = 1/1/0)
Kelvin, Lord, 59, 93, 98n.
Kepler, J., 30, 32, 87, 152-54, 156, 189
Language, viii, 1, 45, 83, 125, 126, 127, 129, 130, 136, 137, 145, 146, 174, 175, 193, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 210, 4, 9 (24 = 13/9/2)
Lavoisier, A. (and/or Lavoisier’s chemistry), 6, 10, 44, 54-56, 57, 59-72, 78, 79, 86, 89, 106-7, 118, 120, 130, 142-43, 147-48, 153, 156-57, 163
Leibniz, G. W., 48, 72
Leyden Jar, 17,61-62, 106,118, 129
Lyell, Sir Charles, 10
Lunar motion, 30, 39, 81
Mature science, 10, 24, 69
Maxwell, J. C., 7, 28,40, 44, 48, 58, 66, 73-74, 80, 82, 107, 109
Meaning change, 128, 201-4
Mercury (planet), 81, 155
Neutrino (particle), 27, 87
Newton, Sir Isaac (and/or Newtonianism), 6, 10, 12-13, 15, 26-27, 30-33, 39-40,44, 47-48, 67, 71, 72-74, 76, 78, 79, 98-99, 101-5, 106, 107, 121, 139-40, 148, 150, 153,
154, 157, 163, 165
Normal science, 5-6, 10, 24-34, 80
Nuclear fission, 60
Observation language, 125-26, 129
Optics, 11-14, 16, 39, 42, 48, 67, 79, 89, 154-55
Paradigm, 10, 15, 18-19, 23, 43-44, 182-191
Paradigm choice, 94, 109-10, 144, 147-59
Pauli, W., 83-84
Pedagogy, vii, 1, 46, 80, 96, 137, 140, 142, 143 (9 = 9/0/0)
Philosophy, vii, viii, xii, xiii, 14, 19, 27, 41, 42, 45, 46, 48, 50, 55, 67, 72, 73, 77, 78, 80, 83, 88, 91, 98, 102, 104, 121, 126, 129, 134, 136, 137, 139, 144, 145, 149, 155, 160, 162, 163, 165, 174, 179, 181, 182, 183, 186, 198, 199, 205, 206, 207, 209, 3, 6, 7, 12, 13 (58 = 41/12/5)
Phlogiston, 53-56, 57-59, 70-72, 79, 85, 99-100, 102, 106, 107, 121-22, 126, 129, 157
Planck,M., 12, 151, 154
Planet(s), 25, 128
Popper, Sir Karl, 146-47, 186n., 205n.
Priestley, J., 53-56, 58, 59-60, 66, 69, 79, 86, 89, 118, 120, 147, 159
Profession, 5, 6, 7, 8, 11, 19, 20, 21, 23, 24, 25, 38, 47, 49, 50, 64, 66, 67, 82, 85, 111, 115, 128, 137, 138, 139, 144, 152, 154, 158, 159, 164, 167, 168, 169, 170, 171, 177, 182, 203, 7 (41 = 37/3/1)
Progress, 20, 37, Chap. XIII esp. 160, 162, 166
Psychology, viii, x, 8, 62, 64, 79, 86, 112, 113, 114, 117, 121, 123, 126, 127, 160, 161, 176 (18 = 17/1)
Ptolemy, 10, 23, 67-69, 75-76, 82, 98, 115, 154, 156
Puzzle solving, 36-39
Quantum theory, 48, 49-50, 83-84, 89, 95, 108, 154
Quine, W. V. 0., vi, 202n.
Resistance, 62, 65, 83, 151
Revolutions in science, 6-8, 92-98, 101-2
Roentgen, W., 57-58, 93
Scheele, C., 53, 55, 70
Scientific community, 167-79, 176-80, 185-87
Sociology, ix, x, xi, 8, 40, 174, 176, 188 (9 = 5/4/0)
Tacit knowledge, 44, 191
Talent, 25 (1 = 1/0/0)
Technology, xii, 15, 19, 161, 168 (5 = 5/0/0)
Textbook science, 136-38
Theory, vii, ix, 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 24, 25, 26, 27, 28, 29, 30, 31, 32, 33, 34, 39, 40, 41, 42, 43, 46, 47, 48, 50, 52, 53, 55, 56, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 64, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 90, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 98, 99, 100, 101, 102, 103, 105, 107, 108, 109, 117, 119, 123, 125, 126, 127, 130, 131, 132, 134, 135, 136, 137, 139, 140, 141, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148, 149, 151, 154, 155, 156, 157, 158, 160, 171, 175, 179, 180, 182, 185, 186, 187, 188, 192, 196, 198, 199, 200, 201, 202, 204, 205, 206, 207, 208, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11, 12 (145 = 117/20/8)
Time, vii, viii, ix, x, xiii, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 10, 11, 12, 13, 16, 19, 21, 23, 25, 30, 31, 37, 38, 40, 42, 43, 47, 53, 55, 58, 59, 61, 63, 68, 70, 76, 80, 82, 86, 97, 98, 101, 102, 103, 112, 114, 115, 118, 119, 121, 122, 123, 124, 129, 136, 139, 141, 142, 143, 146, 149, 150, 152, 156, 157, 158, 163, 165, 168, 170, 171, 174, 180, 183, 184, 185, 189, 190, 195, 196, 202, 203, 204, 205, 207, 5, 6, 7, 9, 10 (90 = 71/14/5)
Translate, 20, 175, 201, 202, 203, 204, 205, 4, 5 (9 = 1/6/2)
University, vii, xiii, 7 (3 = 2/0/1)
Uranus (planet), I 15-16
Venus (planet), 154
Wittgenstein, L., 45
“World changes,” 111, 118, 121, 150
X-rays, 7, 41, 57-59, 61, 92-93