Modern Science and Its Critics: Toward a Post-Positivist Legitimization of Science

The more the universe seems comprehensible, the more it seems pointless.

Steven Weinberg, The First Three Minutes ¹

You could say I lost my faith in science and progress

You could say I lost my belief in the Holy Church

Sting, “If I Ever Lose My Faith in You”

I met Joseph Slater through my work in international development and domestic policy research. Mr. Slater was soon to leave the Ford Foundation and become CEO of the Salk Institute, and he asked me to join him as Assistant to the President. This position sounded exciting; our task was to extend the Institute’s focus on biology to include the social and human sciences—to create, in effect, a center of common knowledge that had not existed since the Renaissance.

Soon (in late 1967) we were in LaJolla. With the help of several wordsmiths and social engineers, and with Jonas Salk’s benign support, Joe Slater initiated a planning process aimed at eliciting the commitment of the senior scientists to an emergent vision of the Institute’s future that would provide the basis for an aggressive fundraising campaign.

The first week after we arrived consisted of orientation sessions for the new leader, his assistant, and the temporary planning support team. As these sessions were presentations by senior scientists, many other researchers also attended.

I myself was no scientist. I had studied sociology at Berkeley and earned an M.A. at Columbia University, but I had never aspired to scholarship or academic life. For me this job was about organizational change, not about doing science. Of course, the new team had to understand something of the culture and content of our client organization, but aside from this practical interest, the material was fascinating, and the chance to learn from the Nobel Prize winners seemed a blessing.

I was an eager learner, groping to understand the words of the masters. One speaker, Jacques Monod, explained his work in cellular biology. He then spoke of societies as cells or organisms, much in the manner of Herbert Spencer but now, I imagined, on a proper scientific basis. During the discussion period I carefully posed my question: “I’m a bit lost . . . . What are the bases of your inferences from the cellular level to the societal level?” I don’t recall Dr. Monod’s response, but I do remember the tension and humiliation I felt as he gave it.

I also remember speaking with, and being charmed by, Francis Crick. The topic was the public concern, then led by ecologist Barry Commoner, about possible nefarious consequences of genetic engineering. “Those social concerns are quite nice,” Crick said, “but let’s think about them after we make the scientific discoveries.” It was then that I began wondering about the senior scientists’ commitment to Jonas’ dream and Joe’s project of making the Institute a center for the new common learning.

After one orientation session, some of the team members chatted as we walked to lunch. A genial elder gent, who served on President Kennedy’s Science Advisory Committee, shared his enthusiasm: “The great thing about science is that it progresses! There are the Dantes and the Shakespeares, but their work never develops. Only science has progress.” I had never heard of Thomas Kuhn but, in the spirit of in-the-clash-of-ideas-the-light-will-emerge, I said, “Well, I don’t know. Take the sonnet. Poets were writing for over a hundred years, developing the form of the sonnet little by little, so that it was available to Shakespeare as a form for him to do what he did with it. That’s a kind of ‘progress,’ isn’t it?” The conversation abruptly changed themes, and again I felt embarrassed. All those terribly smart people around me and I couldn’t seem to connect with what they were saying.

There was one other incident that caused unease, but also helped me better understand the new culture I had entered. A very nice post-doc, about the same age as myself, had been coaching me after each...