Before I suggest what the McDonald experience implies it might
be well to mention the limitations inherent in an attempt to
generalize from this case study. First of all we must keep in
mind that it is just that -- a case study. Consequently, the
possibility that it is an aberrant example of the scientific
process is ever present. In addition, while it may not
represent normal, scientific activity one could argue that it
is typical of borderland science. Yet even that position is
assailable on the grounds that we are still dealing with a
single case.
One means of coping with this question, at least on a
tentative basis, is to treat it in a "what if?" fashion.
That is, the case study material exists and we would like to draw
conclusions from it even though such an undertaking is laden
with risks. Therefore, we can make an assumption for
heuristic purposes; what if the McDonald case study is
representative of the borderland scientific process? From
there it is possible to proceed with the discussion while
being fully aware of its limitations.
In the first chapter I claimed that the scientific process is,
at least in the case of a potentially anomalous phenomenon, a
political process. The basic hypothesis was that in order to
function within the scientific community, i.e., to do science,
the scientist must do more than apply the scientific method to
his subject matter. It is necessary for him to engage in
other activities which are not associated with our traditional
conceptions of the scientific endeavor. It was further argued
that such behaviors are political and in conjunction with the
scientific method compose what I defined as the scientific
process.
This conception views the scientist not as a passive seeker
after truth in the groves of academe, but rather as an active
advocate doing whatever he perceives as necessary to foster
his research. In chapter two the case for this argument
received documentation through a detailed look at McDonald's
first year of active involvement in the UFO controversy.
Chapters three, four, five and six were not essential to
demonstrating the hypothesis, but were useful in presenting
further insight into borderland scientific activity.
Moreover, they helped me to develop my ideas with respect to
the borderland science endeavor and by implication its
counterpart normal science. What follows, then, is a
speculative discussion of both borderland and normal science
activity with the emphasis on the former. It is based upon
data from the McDonald case study, the research of other
social scientists and intuitive feelings about the nature of
the scientific enterprise which developed as a result of
undertaking this research.
Let us begin by assuming that not all scientists are equally
political. For purposes of discussion they can be
differentiated on the basis of the amount of political
behavior they engage in, the issues they study, and the
political tactics they use. This will enable us to talk about
different types of scientists, issues, and tactics. Although
this conceptual breakdown is lacking in precise operational
determinants, it nonetheless is useful in taking an initial
look at the phenomenon I am calling the personal politics of
science.
It is assumed that all practicing scientists are political and
that the apolitical scientist is a myth. This does not mean
that all scientists are as political as McDonald, but it does
imply that each in his own way initiates behaviors which are
not part of the scientific method and yet are intended to
further the scientists' research activities. If we are to
accept the apolitical scientist concept we must believe that
scientists exist who do not consider the social implications
of their research and do nothing to foster their own
professional interests except their work -- trusting solely in
the community of scholars to reward them on the basis of
merit. Because this entire line of reasoning appears
counterintuitive there is no further discussion of such
hypothetical individuals here.
However, three different types of scientists are suggested.
The first type engages in average amounts of political
behavior. That is, he is the normal scientist who does not
attempt to wheel and deal in his discipline or pursue
revolutionary breakthroughs.
[1]
He does his research on normal issues and where necessary
employs normal political tactics to achieve his ends.
The second type of scientist takes part in above-average
amounts of political behavior. He is one of the prolific
members of his discipline and/or a scientific statesman. The
former requires that he always has a book or an article "in
press" and the latter that he sits on and organizes
associational panels in his discipline and functions on the
editorial boards of journals. In either case he is constantly
tending
to his own upwardly mobile interests within the scientific
community. This individual gravitates toward
"fashionable" topics of research that exist on the
periphery of paradigms but which do not threaten the
assumptions of the paradigms
themselves. In so doing he utilizes considerably more in the
way of normal political tactics to achieve his ends than our
Type I scientist.
Within this category there is a subgroup which because of my
value orientations I will call the "reactionary
extremists." They are successful Type II scientists who
take it upon themselves to use extreme tactics to do battle
with Type III scientists over potentially revolutionary
issues.
The Type III scientist, "the progressive extremist,"
unable to obtain satisfaction through labor in the vineyards
of "normal science," is attracted to potentially revolutionary
research areas. He focuses an enormous amount of political
behavior on these topics and does not hesitate to bring
extreme tactics into play. For the sake of a breakthrough he
will venture to the borderlands of science in the hope of
returning with a new view of reality.
The scientists of both polar persuasions, then, share several
characteristics which seem aberrant and justify the label of
extremist. Both the "progressive" and the
"reactionary" are
attracted to borderland areas of research. The former as an
active iconoclast and the latter as an upholder of authority.
Each in his own way exhibits traits which Rokeach has called
dogmatic.
[2]
Lastly, both groups are willing to substitute
political tactics for the process of verification.
It should be clear that this is a first tentative attempt at
mapping part of the personal politics of science domain. As a
result the rigor which is desirable in such an endeavor is not
always present. Nevertheless, some of the terms are amenable
to definition now and others may yield to more precise
delimitation in the future.
Issues are either normal, fashionable normal, or
revolutionary. By "normal" I mean that in Kuhn's
sense it is just another puzzle in whatever discipline it
occurs. It isn't considered "exciting" as perhaps
it once was and
consequently popular magazines do not feature articles about
the men who work in the area. It is respectable, but it is
the sort of thing that most scientists are engaged in. On the
other hand, "fashionable normal" issues are those
which are studied by the big names of science. They usually require
vast funding, exist on the periphery of paradigms, and because
they seem to promise the opening of new vistas of
understanding they exude excitement. Most academics are at
least vaguely aware the research is underway and even the man
on the street may know of its existence through the coverage
provided by the news media. The revolutionary issue differs
from the above issues in two ways. First, it has no status as
a priority problem in the scientific community, and, second,
and more importantly, it is neither directly within nor on the
periphery of an extant paradigm, and therefore not verifiable
in traditional terms. As a result very few scientists are
attracted to such problems.
The tactics of political persuasion are either normal or
extreme. Normal tactics are any and all behaviors used by
scientists to further their research ends as long as they are
not brought into play as a substitute for verification.
Extreme tactics, to the contrary, are used for purposes of
political persuasion either by progressive or reactionary
extremists. Such tactics serve as surrogates for verification
in borderland science areas where mutually acceptable criteria
of verifiability are lacking, i.e., where the contending
groups each adhere to their own mutually exclusive criteria of
acceptance. The exhibited behaviors, then, can be identical
in the normal or revolutionary context. What determines if
they are normal or extreme tactics is whether or not they are
intended as surrogates for the verification process.
A word of caution is in order at this juncture because it is
tempting to conceive of an extreme tactic, especially when
comparing tactics, in terms of the degree to which it appears
to violate the canons of science. For instance, which is more
extreme, fraud which is the product of falsifying results, or
interfering in a fellow scientist's research project? The
answer is that this is not a question which is addressed by my
usage of extreme. An extreme tactic is merely a tactic
employed by extremists of either caste to circumvent the
accepted verification process in a potentially revolutionary
context. Therefore, both "fraud" and
"interference" could be normal or extreme tactics
depending on the intent and the context.
It would seem that empirical inquiry into what scientists do
would lead to more or less precise indicators of average and
above-average amounts of political behavior, however, at this
time the work has not
been done. Moreover, the scientific types alluded to
are by no means always pure. It may be that a given
scientist's type varies according to the issue, or that in
some cases as a scientist advances in age and security he
evolves from a Type I to a Type III or vice-versa. Those
kinds of questions await further research. What should be
obvious, however, is that McDonald was a Type II who became a
Type III when he began to pursue the UFO phenomenon in 1966.
At the same time he took his first cautious steps into the
area known as borderland science.
Up to this point the notion of borderland science has been
used rather loosely. The term is meant to connote the
practice of both science and pseudoscience in areas that are
so nebulous that the distinction between the two undertakings
is blurred. The practitioners of borderland endeavors
consider themselves members of the avant garde in whatever
field they work. They believe that they are doing good
science which is ignored and/or that they are unable to
properly engage the phenomenon of their choice because of
various socio/political/economic reasons which put that
particular domain of investigation beyond the pale.
To exist beyond the pale for our purposes means that such
areas do not fall neatly into an extant paradigm. In fact,
their assumptions may violate knowledge claims which are
revered in accepted disciplines. As a result borderland
science subjects are generally not taken seriously by the vast
majority of the scientific community. If they were, they
could not longer be considered borderland. At any rate, such
subjects fall into disrepute and among the elder statesmen of
science are labeled pseudoscience.
The problem is now becoming apparent as we see that both
intellectual extremes are able to take advantage of the
situation. For instance, anyone who pursues a borderland
interest and experiences a poor reception by his peers is able
to claim that this is the plight of all men who are before
their time. Using this argument pleas of harassment, along
with demands on available resources such as funding, journal
space, and peer recognition are possible. Conversely, there
are individuals within science who point to their favorite
examples of pseudoscience and argue that all borderland
activity is of a similar nature. They then proceed to argue
either directly or indirectly that such issues, therefore, do
not deserve a hearing before the scientific community. Of
course, not all scientists who pursue "so called"
bizarre interests are on the verge of a revolutionary breakthrough,
nor are all of them engaged in worthless research. The
question is how to discriminate between worthwhile and
worthless work.
If the controversial issue rested squarely within an accepted
paradigm then the dispute would be readily justiciable, for
agreed upon criteria of verification would exist among all
those concerned. However, one faction always claims that a
particular matter is anomalous, i.e., falling outside of
extant paradigms, while the other asserts that the issue is
readily explainable in terms of one paradigm or another. This
makes a mutually acceptable solution impossible.
The disagreement, then, results from the contending parties
approaching the problem with differing assumptions about the
data. As long as this remains true they are not able to
obtain the same conclusions, but, rather, dispute assumptions
and largely talk by one another. This politicizes the
verification process because it is no
longer a question of intersubjectively verifiable criteria,
i.e., scientific persuasion, to determine the acceptance or
rejection of the hypothesis, but a question of political
persuasion. How many scientists, which funding agencies,
etc., can be convinced that research on the problem should or
should not proceed?
Of course, while this describes the problem it does not go far
enough. For the demand on the part of the paradigm defenders
that the paradigm shatterers meet the formers' criteria of
verification is a convenient means of disposing of the problem
but is in fact a straw man. This is true because practicing
scientists are well aware of the fact that the degree of rigor
demanded for evidence claims varies both within and between
established disciplines and yet work goes on. This points up
what is the sine qua non for an ongoing research area; it is
political power herein defined as a constituency of
well-funded scientists sharing the same world view.
McDonald did research, but recognized that what was possible
with his limited funds was not adequate for a convincing
demonstration of the anomalous nature of UFO data to his
scientific peers, i.e., meeting the verifiability criteria of
the old paradigms. Therefore, he began a political campaign
to shift the conventional paradigms to make room for the
legitimate study of the UFO phenomenon with specific reference
to the extraterrestrial hypothesis.
What, if we assume the McDonald experience is representative,
are we able to say about the personal politics of science of
the borderland science situation? It would appear that entry
into the field is a slow
process for seasoned scientists. Because they serve their
graduate student apprenticeships learning how to do
non-revolutionary research few scientists, possibly none, are
really out to shift paradigms until some critical event in
their lives. In McDonald's case a UFO observation in the
Arizona desert in the early 1950s probably planted the seed of
discontent. Yet, even first-hand experience did not result in
immediate pursuit of the subject. Rather than such a bold
course he embarked on a low-key investigatory effort in the
Tucson area which lasted some ten years. When he interacted
with NICAP in those early years he demanded and obtained
assurances that his name would not be used. Finally, in 1966
when he decided to launch a one-man study through the NAS,
Congress or the AFOSR he wanted to do it quietly. It was only
after he visited Wright-Patterson Air Force Base and reached
his ETH conclusions that the phenomenon seemed to develop a
dynamic of its own which, with each passing month, drew him
further toward the center of the controversy.
On the basis of this information we can infer that while most
scientists never venture into the borderland, those who do so,
do it gradually. They received training and pursued careers
in which the byword is caution. Therefore, when confronted
with the potentially anomalous, phenomena which according to
accepted world views shouldn't exist, it is only to be
expected that even those scientists considered reckless in
judgment by their colleagues appear conservative to the
layman.
There are also a number of socio-political reasons for this
circumspection. It is not true of all borderland subjects,
but is true in the case of the UFO phenomenon, that no one is
academically trained to come to grips with the multi-faceted
data. Consequently, to attempt
to do so is an extremely time-consuming interdisciplinary task
which discourages most investigators.
In addition, scientists are accustomed to research funding.
Yet, borderland topics are not usually within recognized areas
of university research so it is difficult to imagine where to
submit a proposal. But should submission of an application
occur, as a result of the disrepute in which the scientific
community holds the subject, it has a minimal chance of
success. This is because it is not the sort of research which
a funding agency desires to justify to its board of directors
or endowing body as an example of its philanthropy. Or in the
instance of a federal agency, proposals are usually refereed
by outstanding scientists who have their own conceptions of
real world priorities which don't include the peripheral
topics of borderland science. So this leaves the scientist
the choice of absorbing the research expenses himself,
siphoning funds from another grant as McDonald did, or
abandoning the field. It is not surprising that most opt for
the latter alternative.
The question of career advancement also faces every scientist.
In academic institutions this means a scientist must concern
himself with tenure and promotion. However, tenure and
promotion generally depend on a mixture of publication and
social acceptance in one's department. Unfortunately, there
is seldom a respected journal which will publish borderland
material and since such areas are often considered
pseudoscience to one's colleagues, social acceptance may
suffer (some of McDonald's peers worried that his work would
hurt the reputation of the UA) by their pursuit.
Consequently, there is no incentive to focus on borderland
research within the work situation. In fact, the work
situation rewards those who adhere to the tried and true, not
those who
deviate from it. This leaves several possibilities. The
scientist can undertake the research "out of
pocket" as a side interest, putting career-oriented
work first. He can give it first priority with the likely
loss of his job or at least non-promotion. Alternatively,
as in McDonald's case, the scientist can put the work aside
until he obtains his full professorship and an impressive
file of publications. Or, finally, and not surprisingly
under the circumstances, abandonment of the work may occur.
Therefore, for most scientists avoiding the borderland is
probably less of a conscious choice than a course of action
necessitated by the career constraints of the academic
environment.
It would seem, therefore, that socio-political problems
associated with career advancement and the funding of
bizarre research tend to insure that few scientists
entertain thoughts of unorthodox work and still fewer act
upon them. However, once a scientist does act, what sort of
concerns become paramount for him? Of first importance is
credibility.
Borderland research topics carry with them a stigma. This
often takes the form of a cultist fringe which is associated
with them in one way or another and may include "fast buck
artists" who know a bizarre subject, if presented properly,
has considerable appeal to the gullible. The serious
scientist who concludes that within the noise of such a
phenomenon there also exists a signal must in some manner
dissociate himself from the unsavory aspects of the subject.
For instance, beginning in the early 1950s the UFO issue
acquired religious and space-brother overtones fostered by
various individuals who claimed contact with
extraterrestrials. This became an important
factor in keeping the problem relegated to the status of a
matter worthy of ridicule but not serious research.
McDonald recognized this as an issue which could reduce his
effectiveness and took a number of measures to increase his
credibility.
Initially he didn't want his name used even by NICAP, which
by UFO organization standards is conservative. Because APRO
accepted occupant reports, while at the beginning he did
not, McDonald avoided APRO even though APRO headquarters was
in Tucson. Since he viewed the Air Force Blue Book project
as responsible for much of the disrepute associated with
UFOs he set out to refute its conclusions. After
accomplishing this, to his own satisfaction, he publicly
attacked the Air Force in his talks. Even though he became
in great demand as a speaker, however, he would only address
groups in which he felt some further scientific light might
be thrown on the subject or scientific converts made. In
other words he did not want to be known as "the after-dinner
UFO speaker" for the Kiwanis, Rotary and other civic
organizations. In his presentations, which were largely to
scientists and engineers, he used carefully selected
language to avoid appearing sensational. This is epitomized
by his reference to the ETH as "the least unsatisfactory
hypothesis." In the same presentations he threw barbs at
those elements who he considered part of the cultist fringe.
Moreover, his recognition of the interdisciplinary aspects
of the UFO problem compelled him to get the views of
specialists in as many social, physical and life science
departments as were willing to hear him speak. This
approach saved him a great deal of research and increased
his credibility. It allowed him to make statements such as
"Dr. X in psychology, an authority on mass hysteria, told
me only last month that UFO reports could not be explained
by the mass hysteria hypothesis." Lastly, as McDonald
became more deeply involved in the UFO controversy he began
to refute the work of Donald Menzel, Philip Klass and
eventually the Condon Report.
Through this activity McDonald intended to increase both his
credibility and the credibility of UFOs as a legitimate
topic of scientific inquiry. He avoided the sensational
wherever possible in order not to frighten the scientists he
wanted to convert, yet to some degree he found himself
trapped in a paradox. For the more mundane the problem
became due to his use of various circumlocutions designed to
increase the scientific palatability of the subject, the
weaker the case became for researching it. On the other
hand, if McDonald's version of the truth were told both his
credibility and that of the issue would suffer, while the
number of conversions would decrease. We can assume, then,
that establishing credibility is a primary concern of the
borderland science practitioner. Probably the concern
varies directly with the degree of bizarreness associated
with the research area. Although one's credibility in the
practice of normal science is virtually taken for granted,
when scientific matters become a question of political
persuasion (outside of the traditional framework of mutually
acceptable verification criteria) credibility must be
carefully nurtured and augmented whenever possible.
[3]
Also of concern is gaining access to those decision-makers
who can legitimate the study of the borderland area in
question by channeling research funds to it. Therefore,
interest articulation efforts are necessary to convince the
decision-makers that funding should take place.
This approach is essential because borderland subjects are
not respectable areas of study and as a result none of the
traditional avenues for the acquisition of funds are open.
|
Since it is a question of political persuasion all means
which would appear to positively contribute to the goal of
legitimacy may come into play. Actual tactics would seem to
be a function of the temerity of the researcher. In the
case of McDonald he approached leaders in the governmental,
military and scientific communities. Moreover, he
eventually staged a "coming out," began a speaking
campaign which took him the length and breadth of the country,
meddled in the Colorado Project finally resulting in his
masterminding of the Look expose article, appealed to the
NAS and proved instrumental in organizing the Roush
Hearings.
This illustrates the schizoid character of borderland
science behavior. For it is obvious that McDonald
considered the UFO question a matter of political
persuasion; of converting as many individuals as possible
and hoping that the weight of numbers would win the day.
Yet it seems he never quite understood, or could accept,
that for most disinterested decision-makers conversion would
only take place if they could envision some benefit to
themselves greater than the costs which might accrue. So,
on the one hand, to build a constituency he took his case to
the scientific community and the public through speaking
engagements, informal communications and various forms of
publicity, and on the other hand he besieged
decision-makers, even going so far as to present his concern
with the Condon Study to the NAS. In viewing these
behaviors it would appear that they are open to two
interpretations. Conceivably McDonald wanted to campaign on
as many fronts as possible, thinking that it would increase
his probability of success. Alternatively, he believed
(beneath his cynical demeanor) that reason would win out
among the rational elder statesmen of science, government
and the military. Admittedly both interpretations could be
correct. McDonald, the seasoned scientist, considered the
strategy of attacking on many fronts a good one. But
despite his political sophistication he also maintained a
streak of idealism, and undoubtedly this idealism made him,
in the last analysis, hold out the hope that individuals
trained in the rites of rational discourse would draw
similar conclusions to his own. In fact, it may be that
those scientists who work in borderland areas (Type III)
tend to be those individuals who have deeply internalized
the rational ideal, while Type II scientists have not done
so and consequently remain aloof from research which could
tarnish their reputations and/or careers.
[4]
The Type III scientist, then, may believe strongly in scientific ideals,
but nevertheless engage in considerable political activity.
The difference in this instance between the Type II and Type
III is that the former is more pragmatic and realistic than
the latter. While the former weighs each research decision
in terms of its costs and benefits to his career, the latter
tends to engage an interesting issue regardless of the
personal repercussions it might have.
There is another reason for the development of what I want to
call the schizoid situation. It is the extreme frustration
which results from the study of a borderland research area.
The borderland scientist is frequently under a state of
siege. He is often attacking or being attacked, winning a
skirmish now and then, but never winning the battle.
Consequently, when the prognosis is grim appeals to
otherwise hostile appearing sources of authority should come
as no surprise.
This occurred in McDonald's case when he appealed to the NAS
to examine what he considered the incompetence of the
Colorado Project. The situation appeared acute for a number
of reasons. Those familiar with the problem viewed the
Condon Study as the critical experiment with respect to the
UFO phenomenon. McDonald felt that twentieth century
scientific priorities would undergo a complete reshuffling
if a favorable outcome resulted. Moreover, if this occurred
it would provide an exciting new area of well-funded
research for him. But if the Colorado results proved
negative then the field of UFO studies would be set back
decades and surely not experience a resurgence prior to the
termination of his productive years of scholarship. To
further exacerbate matters the whole UFO controversy existed
within a shroud of unproved, but potentially real national
security problems, the implications of which were unknown,
yet subject to widespread speculation with regard to the
Condon Study. It is not surprising, then, that after
numerous attempts to aid, guide and cajole Condon, McDonald
went directly to the NAS where he somehow thought that
redress could take place.
This episode in the controversy also underlines the
importance of a critical experiment in a borderland area.
In addition, it illustrates the unusual treatment which a
borderland phenomenon may receive. For once the critical
experiment takes on formidable dimensions with far ranging
implications, it is monitored by extremists of many colors,
thus promoting the development of a circus-like atmosphere.
Furthermore, it
is possible that the experiment can, as in the Colorado
case, carry with it the implication that it will remove a
nuisance problem from someone's shoulders. In this instance
from the purview of the Air Force, which imposed an unusual
restriction on the research. Because the Air Force
instinctively recognized the outcome would largely be a
question of the predispositions of the project staff, it
stipulated in the contract that scientists previously
associated with the topic could not take part in the study,
surely a most unusual manner in which to conduct an
analysis. This tactic virtually insured that the staff
would consider UFOs a nonsense problem. In all likelihood
this is an atypical example of the critical experiment due
to the Air Force involvement. However, it does indicate the
degree to which violation of the accepted canons of science
may occur if the borderland area in question is of
sufficient import. Of course, violation in this instance
proved a two-edged sword. For while the Air Force made
certain that it would obtain conclusions compatible with its
public position, McDonald busied himself meddling in the
Colorado Project hoping to thwart an outcome unfavorable to
his public position.
The ONR controversy exemplifies another aspect of borderland
science; the confrontation of two intellectual extremists.
If it were possible to array the intellectual predilections
of scientists in a frequency distribution I think it would
be safe to conjecture that one or two percent, the Type III
scientists, would fall in one tail of the distribution. As
indicated previously they gravitate toward the study of the
unusual and it is for that reason that I label them the
"progressive extremists."
However, there are also extremists in the
other tail of the distribution. They expend considerable
time and energy attacking Type III scientists. These
"reactionary extremists" consist of a small number
of Type II scientists who become incensed over borderland
issues. The reactionary extremists assert that they wish to
protect both the public and the scientific community from
pseudo-science and its kook practitioners. To make their
point they cite what they postulate to be typical examples
of belief systems which were intellectual fads of the past,
i.e., elves, black magic, astrology, witches, etc., and
claim that the borderland subjects which they indict fall
into the same category. For example, astronomer Donald
Menzel states:
[5]
The nature myths of the ancient Greeks gave way to beliefs
in demons, evil spirits, the devil incarnate, witches,
wizards, ogres, ghouls, harpies, fairies, fire drakes,
werewolves, goblins, specters, wills-o'-the-wisp, ghosts,
banshees, nymphs, elves, mermaids, leprechauns, minotaurs,
centaurs, satyrs, cyclops, unicorns, and chimeras, to
mention just a few. The belief in the existence of such
creatures was by no means evanescent. History is full of
serious claims that human beings have seen or encountered
such things.
While physicist William Markowitz concludes:
[6]
We have been reminded (by Hynek) that 21st-century science
will look back on us. This is true. We, ourselves, look
back on eras when people believed in the existence of
centaurs, mermaids, and fire-breathing dragons. I am afraid
that 21st-century science will contemplate with wonder the
fact that, in an age of science such as ours, the United
States Air Force was required to sponsor repeated studies of
UFOs.
And physicist Edward Condon claims:
[7]
Flying saucers and astrology are not the only
pseudo-sciences which have a considerable following amongst
us. There used to be spiritualism; there continues to be
extrasensory perception, and psychokinesis, and a host of
others . . . . Perhaps we need a National
Magic Agency to make a large and expensive study of all these
matters, including the future scientific study of UFOs, if any.
These individuals are the defenders of orthodoxy as much as
the Type III scientists are the defenders of the unorthodox.
Although he is not a professional scientist we must give
Philip Klass his due in this area. The ONR controversy
illustrates what can occur when the reactionary extremist
confronts the progressive extremist. It is the type of
altercation that occurs in the borderland because emotions
run high among the combatants. I would surmise that this
argumentation becomes so emotionally charged because there
are no mutually acceptable criteria of verifiability to
discuss. Both the reactionary and the progressive,
therefore, experience great frustration as a result of their
respective inabilities to convince the other of his
obviously incorrect belief. The outcome is a
no-holds-barred struggle in which the personal politics of
science, not the scientific method, is paramount.
In all borderland areas the conviction of practitioners is
that they have evidence for their beliefs. If only
organized science would examine the data, which it won't,
they argue that they would obtain vindication.
[8]
The preparations for the 1969 AAAS UFO Symposium provide an
excellent opportunity to observe the treatment accorded a
borderland belief by organized science. It is probably not
unreasonable to assume other bizarre beliefs would receive
similar treatment as witnessed by the 1974 Velikovsky AAAS
Symposium which Carl Sagan also planned.
The UFO Symposium illuminates two kinds of resistance to a
new paradigm in science -- the direct and the indirect.
Menzel and Condon represent the former, while Sagan and Page
represent the latter. Menzel and Condon are examples of
successful Type II scientists who are
reactionary extremists on some issues and make no attempt to
veil their position. To the contrary, Sagan and Page are
prototypes of successful Type II scientists who are
reactionary extremists on some issues but who disguise their
intentions by publicly acting in the name of the rational
model of science. In this instance providing a platform for
the discussion of unorthodox views.
Both of the above twosomes wanted to put an end to what they
considered a modern myth, but their approaches differed.
Menzel and Condon, although considered major parties to the
UFO debate in 1969, wanted to stop the Symposium and went
about it in a direct fashion by letter-writing campaigns and
word-of-mouth. They exhibited no desire to thrash out the
issues in open debate, in fact they felt that such an airing
could only lend an aura of AAAS legitimacy to the UFO
phenomenon.
On the other hand, Sagan and Page did not worry about
legitimating UFO studies through the Symposium for they had
a very different purpose in mind. In good liberal form they
claimed they wanted to present the pros and cons of a
current topic of public interest. Actually they intended to
expose what they considered an untenable belief system to
hard-nosed scientific method and by so doing destroy one of
the pseudoscientific subjects they believed jaded the
attitudes of college students toward the physical sciences.
Condon and Menzel, therefore, did not want to expose the
subject to the light of day, while Sagan and Page wanted to
expose it, but with the intent of shattering the assumptions
underlying it. As it turned out neither the skeptics nor
the believers won the day at the Symposium. As usual, no
agreement as to what constituted acceptable evidence claims
existed amongst all the participants. Consequently, those
who found
UFOs a significant scientific problem were not convinced to
the contrary and those who viewed the matter as another
pseudo-science craze went home with their beliefs intact.
Such, of course, proved a disheartening outcome for McDonald
because it was in just the type of forum provided by the
AAAS that he hoped the tide of scientific thought on UFOs
would turn.
There is something which emerges from this look at
McDonald's attempt to obtain a paradigm shift. It is the
temptation to develop an analogy. Arguing by analogy is
always dangerous because of the amount of conceptual
slippage which is possible. No two situations are ever
alike with the subsequent result that an analogy often
produces a seductive, but nevertheless misleading portrayal
of the data. With this in mind I am going to proceed by
drawing out an analogy which appears to furnish an
interesting and hopefully useful means of looking at the
strategy and tactics of the borderland science endeavor.
Therefore let me begin by saying that borderland science is
an intensely political activity in which one group of
scientists claims, on the basis of faith, that the extant
view of scientific reality is adequate, while another
smaller group asserts, also on the basis of faith, that some
problems are not being solved because of the accepted world
view and therefore it is time for a change. What is meant
by this is that both groups use above-average amounts of
political behavior to seek their respective ends. Each
brings extreme tactics into play as surrogates for the
verification process and both endorse mutually exclusive
sets of criteria for adherence to their belief that the
other is correct.
The extant view of reality is considered
adequate by the opponents of the new paradigm because it
answers the questions which interest them and, through the
years, provided the context within which they obtained the
perquisites of the scientific profession; perquisites which
might be redistributed if a new world view came to the fore.
On the other hand, the extant view of reality is considered
inadequate by the proponents of the new paradigm because it
does not furnish a useful context for solving the problems
which interest them and consequently denies them the rewards
of the scientific profession. What ensues is, for all
intents and purposes, a political campaign by the proponents
of the paradigm which is not in power to bring about a
revolution that will overthrow the paradigm which is, and
possibly its proponents as well. Kuhn suggested just such
an analogy, as pointed out in chapter one, however, he does
not seek to flesh it out in explicitly political terms.
[9]
Although he draws the parallel between political
institutions which are not capable of reform and paradigms
which do not have the capacity for solving new problems, he
fails to see that the analogy is capable of further
extension for purposes of providing insight into the context
within which a paradigm is actually shifted. Kuhn further
recognizes that the process is one of conversion, in which
persuasion plays the most important role, but he does not
label it a political process or political persuasion.
How then might we extend the analogy? First the basic
argument should be presented. It was mentioned above that
just as political institutions may prove incapable of reform
from within and consequently be overthrown from without, so
too can paradigms undergo a similar experience; each in its
own way because it cannot solve the problems
with which it is presented. In both instances the term
revolution is an appropriate term to describe the transition
which occurs when the legitimate process for change is
circumvented. In the case of the political institution
power is passed on through an overthrow of the government
and not via constitutional means. In the case of a
paradigm, it is replaced by converting potential adherents
on the basis of a non-institutionalized act of faith rather
than through an intersubjectively verifiable "act of faith
demonstration." In other words, it is not a question of
scientific method, but one of conviction.
Granted that the above is correct how might the McDonald
experience help in throwing light on the
conversion-resistance process which I want to call a
revolutionary political process? Let us examine the
advantages of the incumbent paradigm in light of what is
known about the advantages of incumbent political leaders.
A political leader carries the mantle of legitimacy as a
result of coming to power through the legally prescribed
procedures of the state. This legitimacy is one of the
reasons he commands the allegiance of his constituents.
Although, as Kuhn points out, paradigms always come to power
by way of revolution, they nevertheless acquire an air of
legitimacy as textbooks are rewritten to suggest an orderly
ascension to power and as those scientists who know the true
story become fewer and fewer with the passing of time.
Consequently, paradigms too command the same sort of
allegiance as a political regime. This allegiance is
enhanced as a political regime meets increasingly more of
the demands of its constituents or at least in one way or
another leaves the
constituents with that impression. So too does allegiance
to a paradigm grow as the number of explanations of
heretofore insoluble problems increases.
Such an outcome should not be surprising. Just as
politicians who owe their careers to a regime set the tone
of the political issues which the party faithful confront,
the elder statesmen of science, who made their names within
the old paradigm, set the intellectual style for a
particular era and by implication give support to the
legitimate problems of the day. This is done in several
ways. The equivalent of political largess in the scientific
community is grant money. The elder statesmen have
considerable control over who is funded through the
refereeing of grant proposals and because their own work
constitutes an indicator by example of what is priority
research.
[10]
So, in the same way as lower-level
politicians must fall into line in order to keep funds from
the central government flowing back to their constituencies,
lower-level scientists must do acceptable research if they
want to obtain funding. Moreover, in the name of the
dominant paradigms the elder statesmen of science control
the editorial boards of scholarly journals. Consequently,
it is very difficult to publish a study which attacks a
dominant paradigm, assuming the research is possible,
without starting one's own journal. The phenomenon is
similar to the immediate access the incumbent administration
has to the news media while the rebels can only obtain
coverage if they rape, pillage and loot.
This brings us to the tactics which the rebel scientist must
employ to bring about his paradigm shift in the face of
overwhelming odds.
Granted, the case would be more impressive if McDonald
succeeded. But that is not of great importance, for whether
he was wrong or championed an idea whose time had not come,
he nevertheless had experience in the personal politics of
science. Therefore, regardless of the validity of the ends,
we are probably safe in assuming the means are quite
representative of those which would be employed by any Type
III scientist in a similar situation.
Before enumerating specific tactics several distinctions are
in order. Previously I mentioned that tactics are either
normal or extreme. It should further be pointed out that
both normal and extreme tactics are found in the
revolutionary situation, but we would not expect extreme
tactics in the normal science context. In other words, just
because a revolutionary condition exists does not mean that
only extreme tactics come into play, but it does mean that
normal science situations only evoke normal tactics. The
crucial thing to understand is at what point in both the
normal and revolutionary scientific process that political
tactics occur. In normal science political persuasion ends
at the point that validation begins. Various tactics are
used to further the scientist's interests, but only until it
is time to validate. At that juncture the agreed-upon
criteria of scientific persuasion in a given discipline are
called up, and it is on those criteria that the scientist's
work rises or falls. In the revolutionary instance,
however, political persuasion occurs throughout the
scientific process. This is because there are no
agreed-upon criteria of verification between the opponents
and proponents of the new paradigm. As a result the Type III
scientist not only attempts to convince his audience of his
findings, but also of his world view. It is in the latter
instance where extreme tactics come into play.
With the above in mind let's examine the McDonald case with
an eye to his tactics. We can again begin to flesh out the
revolutionary analogy presented by Kuhn. While McDonald did
his research and satisfied his own demands for proof of
extraterrestrial visitation he knew that his evidence claims
were not sufficient to convert the scientific community. So
what did he do? He set out to make his case in person with
as many leaders of the scientific, governmental and military
communities as would listen to him. To do this he stumped
the country to make conversions and get endorsements. If he
could convert elite scientists he thought they might pry
loose key grant money and/or force the government to look
more closely at the problem. Congress might also lobby for
a study or, as many hoped, conduct an investigation of the
past efforts of the Air Force. In the case of the military,
if they were actually in the dark and not conducting secret
UFO research, conversions could possibly result in the
mobilization of their well-funded research arms.
McDonald used the colloquium as a form of political rally.
Between October 1966 and May 1969 he spoke on 96 separate
occasions. In each instance he attacked some aspect of the
conventional wisdom on UFOs in an attempt to foment
discontent. To do this he undertook to show how prevailing
paradigms did not explain UFO data and in the process tried
to discredit the Air Force because of its staunch support
for the incumbent world view. Therefore, the direction his
efforts took was one intended to make the incumbent
paradigms appear inadequate to the task of explaining the
phenomenon. This is very reminiscent of the manner in which
political revolutionaries try to convince the populace that
the ruling regime is not solving the problems of the people.
McDonald was not above extreme tactics, of which we have
examined two. Rather than permit the Condon Project to run
amuck he blatantly interfered with its ongoing research in
order to influence the verification process. This even
extended to the development of his own intelligence network
within the project staff and the newsstand exposure of what
he considered mismanagement of the research. The other
extreme constellation of tactics were associated with the
Roush Hearings. Instead of taking part as a mere invited
participant, he organized the proceedings. In lieu of a
balanced presentation he packed the symposium with advocates
of his own position. Moreover, in laying the groundwork for
the Hearing he orchestrated his own write-in appeal to key
Congressmen. Although in the long run these measures
failed, at the time McDonald implemented them it was with
the intent of making a case through political techniques
which could not be won in the methodological arena of
science.
While much of his activity might be called interest
articulation McDonald also did considerable image
manipulation. For example, just as the political activist
often avoids confronting the real issue in favor of
something less extreme and more palatable to his audience,
so too did McDonald shy away from the question of
extraterrestrial visitation. Initially he didn't mention
it, then he began to use the circumlocution "the least
unsatisfactory hypothesis," but still evaded the problem of
craft occupants, and eventually he came to the point of
publicly discussing reports of humanoid UFO occupants.
With his credibility in mind he also refused to do a
National Lecture Bureau taping with Frank Edwards whose
raconteur image left him uneasy. In addition, after his
Tucson press experience he tried to
insure through Dick Hall that only first-class press people
would cover his October 1966 "coming out" in
Washington.
These examples show McDonald's sensitivity to the fact that
both what he said and how he appeared effected the number of
converts which he would make in the scientific, governmental
and military communities. He knew that most scientists were
conservative and that the governmental and military types
functioned within bureaucratic structures which encouraged
conformist rather than innovative behavior. Consequently,
he didn't want to take the chance of frightening away any of
these individuals by appearing too strident in his remarks,
as the result of inaccurate publicity, or due to his
association with people having suspect reputations.
As a revolutionary McDonald would have to be labeled a
failure since the revolution never took place. However, he
acted at a time which, in retrospect, seemed ripe. The Air
Force sponsored Condon Project gave an air of respectability
to UFO studies which had never before, or since, been
realized. Whether he carefully planned his entrance into
the controversy to coincide with the new image of the
phenomenon is unclear, but doubtful. What is clear is that
the outcome of the Condon Study proved the turning point in
McDonald's campaign. If Condon's conclusions had been
positive UFO research, with McDonald at its forefront, would
have experienced a vigorous period of growth. As it turned
out, however, Condon's conclusions were negative and the
weight of his prestige along with the seemingly official
imprimatur of science proved more than McDonald could
overcome.
Analogies are seldom perfect when moving from one realm of
discourse to another. However, in this instance I believe
the degree of isomorphism is sufficiently great to justify
the endeavor. Although this fleshing out of the
revolutionary analogy is incomplete, it nevertheless
indicates the direction which I think fruitful thinking
should take with respect to the problem of understanding
paradigm shifts. For it would appear that as long as the
scientific process at the level of the individual scientist
is viewed as somehow transcending politics that we will
never grasp, even in shadow form, the manner in which
knowledge grows.
What happens in the potentially revolutionary situation,
then, is that both extreme groups have no choice but to
abandon scientific method for purposes of making their
respective cases. They rely exclusively on extreme tactics
to obtain conversions, although they each claim that they
are providing a scientific demonstration of their position.
Actual scientific method can only come into play once the
set of assumptions underlying the paradigm in question is
accepted by all concerned, or at least goes publicly
unchallenged by the elder statesmen of science. For
instance, if the UFO phenomenon were considered a legitimate
area of research then an entire literature resulting from
the use of scientific method could spring up around UFO
types, landing cases, the geographical distribution of
reports, etc. But as long as the validity of the phenomenon
itself is in question, the funding necessary for the above
undertakings will not be forthcoming.
Probably what is important in such a situation is not the
number of converts which is made, but the amount of
political influence they wield.
For the latter will determine if the area receives funding.
And funding is in all likelihood the best indicator of
legitimacy. This is because once a paradigm is well heeled
and has its own journals within which to publish it is less
open to attack even if critics exist who disagree with its
underlying assumptions.
No doubt this is because legitimacy decreases the efficacy
of such an attack to almost nil. Prior to obtaining
legitimacy the paradigm shatterers need to respond to
criticism because the burden of proof is essentially on
their shoulders. They want the scarce resources of society
to pursue their work and cannot afford to ignore detractors
whose arguments might derail the revolution. Once
established, however, a dialogue becomes unimportant to the
victors who can ignore attack from without and in this
manner extinguish such behavior on the part of those with
whom they do not share assumptions.
Of course, this begins the cycle of knowledge growth all
over again. Were the UFO phenomenon legitimated, for
instance, and a successful research tradition developed
around the subject-area over let us say a period of 25
years, then the former paradigm shatterers and their world
view would become an entrenched paradigm. The
revolutionaries of today would in many instances become the
reactionaries of tomorrow as "young upstarts," questioned
the assumptions of the UFO paradigm by claiming that it
constrained them in their desire to study a potentially
anomalous phenomenon. The fact that this process has
essentially escaped the inquiring eye of the political
scientist suggests something about both science and
political science. The former as an institution and ongoing
method of acquiring knowledge has over the past 300 years
attained a status very similar to that which was once
reserved for the Catholic church.
As a result of its unquestionable success and
the lack of a history of science based upon first-hand
experience, the chroniclers of scientific activity have
tended to take the word of scientists themselves for how
science is done. This, along with the writings of numerous
twentieth century philosophers of science, has all but
removed the human element from science and substituted for
it a formalism focused on scientific method to the exclusion
of the attendant social processes which I have called
political.
[11]
I think political scientists have by and large acquiesced to
this for several reasons. Foremost is the fact that the
personal politics of science is not within the traditionally
accepted scope of the discipline. For instance, it often
will have nothing to do with government. Consequently,
since it could be argued that the prevailing world view in
political science considers a governmental orientation
(however broadly defined) as requisite to doing political
science it is not surprising that very few political
scientists want to engage in an endeavor which could be
construed by their peers as something other than political
science. In addition, the past fifteen years has seen an
attempt within the discipline to make it more rigorous, to
emphasize the "science" rather than the
"political" in its
name. While the merits of this undertaking are not at issue
here it should be obvious that it is unlikely that
individuals engaged in an attempt to inject a traditionally
soft subject with a hard epistemology would find the
personal politics of science an appealing area of inquiry.
This is true because an acceptance of the personal politics
of science tends to reduce the polarity between the
traditional and contemporary modes of political
inquiry. In other words, it acts to undermine rather
than support strong arguments in favor of change in the direction
of rigor.
However, it would appear that the battle over the degree of rigor
appropriate to the study of political phenomena are over. In
retrospect we can see that victories were few and far between with
the participants in the imbroglio, while they have mellowed a bit
over the years, essentially clinging to their initial positions.
Nevertheless, now that a period of peaceful coexistence pervades the
discipline, reducing the demands for orthodoxy, the climate may be
more suitable to the study of heretofore unacceptable subjects.
Ideally within this context the study of the personal politics of
science will have an opportunity to flourish.
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