Digressions&Impressions

Stebbing on Analytic Clarification, with some Kuhn and Sellars

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One of the eye-opening claims in Frederique Janssen-Lauret's recent (2022) Cambridge Elements on Susan Stebbing is that "much of Stebbing's published work focussed on the philosophy of physics and especially on the philosophy of physics." (32) Accordingly Janssen-Lauret devotes considerable space to Sttebbing’s philosophy of science in her book, especially, Stebbing's famous critique of Eddington, but also -- and I suspect this prepared my mind for what follows -- to the complex relationship between Stebbing's philosophy of science and her distance from Moore's philosophy. I mention this because while this post continues my series on clarity and Stebbing's views on clarity in particular ((recall here; and here; and yesterday), today I unexpectedly veer into philosophy of science. 

Recall that if clarity is the effect of analysis (the ‘standard conception’), then its character is, at least in part, determined by the nature of analysis. By the 1930s it was sufficiently clear that different kinds of analysis were being practiced alongside each other. In fact, in her (1933) “Logical positivism and analysis," Stebbing made this very point explicit: “there are various kinds of analysis.” She lists “four different kinds,” although in context it’s possible she thinks there are more. “These four kinds are: (1) analytic definition of a symbolic expression; (2) analytic clarification of a concept; (3) postulational analysis; (4) directional analysis.”

On the standard conception of clarity each of these kinds of analysis generates a clarity proper to it. Of course, it’s possible that the kind of fruit born by these four kinds of analysis belongs to the same genus, but one can’t simply assume that, and to her credit Stebbing does not assume so. For Stebbing thinks that "the analytic clarification of a concept differs considerably from the other three kinds of analysis.” While Stebbing’s views on and practice of postulational and directional -- which she sometimes calls ‘metaphysical’ -- analysis have received considerable and increasing attention,[1] her views on analytic clarification much less so. (I substantiate this claim in the footnote accompanying this sentence.)* Even the phrase 'analytic clarification' was -- despite its apparent familiarity -- not much used in the 1930s.

At first sight, it is no surprise that Stebbing's analytic clarification of a concept has received little attention. For she introduces us to it by saying that such analysis “is due to the fact that we often manage to say something which is true although in so saying we believe ourselves to be referring to what is not in fact the case, and are thus also saying something false.” As stated this seems unpromising and has the air of paradox, without having the clarity of the more familiar paradox of analysis (on which Stebbing has very interesting things to say as one can read in Janssen-Lauret's Elements.) 

But what Stebbing has in mind when discussing 'analytic clarification' of a concept is made evident in the discussion of what follows. For, she introduces the very idea of an analytic clarification of a concept, in order to handle instances where a previously relatively successful scientific theory requires non-trivial revision after what we would now call a ‘paradigm change.’ Her examples are, in fact, ‘mass,’ ‘force,’ and ‘simultaneity’ with explicit reference to Newton and Einstein. Here's what she writes. It's terse, and she acknowledges she lacks time to develop it in context:

Examples of concepts which have been thus clarified are mass, force, simultaneity. The need for such analytic clarification is due to the fact that we often manage to say something which is true although in so saying we believe ourselves to be referring to what is not in fact the case, and are thus also saying something false. This happens when we understand to some extent what we are saying but do not understand clearly exactly what we are saying; hence, we suppose something to be essential to the truth of what we say which is, however, not essential. Certainly Newton did not clearly understand what he was referring to when he spoke of "force", but he often said what was nevertheless true when he used sentences containing "force". A striking example is provided by the concept of simultaneity. Before Einstein had asked the question how we determine whether two events are simultaneous, we thought we knew quite well what was meant by saying 'happening at the same time in London and New York'. Einstein has made us see that we did not know quite well what we meant; we now understand that what we thought to be essential is not so. This analytic clarification of a concept cannot be made quite tidy. It involves a change in the significance of all statements in which the concept occurs.  (p. 30)

Ever since Kuhn, we tend to discuss examples like this in terms of incommensurability and paradigm shifts. And I use some of that vocabulary (and also that of Sellars) to elucidate what Stebbing is getting at. But the first thing to note is that analytic clarification can (or is) the effect of scientific development. The clarity achieved is the product of the growth in science. ("Einstein has made us see...") ‘Analytic clarification’ may be the worst philosophical coinage for failure to convey what it is trying to describe!

Who is doing the clarifying is actually left a bit vague (notice the repeated use of we/us), and that's because Stebbing tends to treat science as a social, situated activity. (Peter West also makes this point in his re-evaluation of Stebbing's famous criticism of Eddington in a recent paper in BJHP.) As she puts it, “Science is the work of scientists, who, profiting by each other’s labours, come gradually to achieve an agreed body of knowledge, and in the course of this achievement continually develop new and more powerful technical methods” (Philosophy and the Physicists)** So, I tend to read her as claiming that Einstein triggered a social process of analytic clarification of concepts that had previously been taken for granted in science (and, perhaps, ordinary life--I return to that below). This image of what philosophical analysis can be is in some sense more familiar from strains in the Vienna Circle. and looks forward to Quine's more naturalist approach. 

Interestingly enough, analytic clarification does not merely impact the scientific image, it is also shifts the manifest image. (On my reading, Stebbing's thinks Edgington's mistake was not that he thought science could shape the manifest image, but rather that he conflated the scientific and manifest images in places where they are better kept separate.) It's not just physicists who through the development of general relativity learned something new about the significance of simultaneity, all of us. 

As an aside, the impact of science on the manifest image is itself due to a wider rationalization of the world; many elements of the manifest image have already been infiltrated and shaped by the scientific image. And this means that common sense itself can shift like quicksand. (I suspect her sensitivity to this is one of her more important differences with Moore.)

When I first read the quoted passage (with Kuhn and Quine in the back of my mind), I thought that the lack of tidiness of analytic clarification was due to a kind of semantic holism of concepts, that the significance of each concept was determined by adjoining concepts in a network. (Janssen-Lauret situates Stebbing as a transitional figure toward Quine's and later Wittgenstein's holism.) So that the adjustments that are required when we figure out what simultaneity really means ramifies out to other, adjoining concepts. But Stebbing actually doesn't say this here in the context of analytic clarification.

Rather, the lack of tidiness is due to the fact that the concepts involved are central to the scientific and manifest image(s). And so that that the clarity gained from analytic clarification about the significance of these particular terms has to be fitted to quite a few claims ("the significance of all statements in which the concept occurs” emphasis added). This still involves a holist-friendly thought that the full, changed significance isn't evident from a particular use, but needs to be inferred from a whole range of potentially subtly different uses (but this holism isn't semantic). But I suspect that part of the lack of tidiness is also due to Stebbing’s recognition that science itself is open-ended, perhaps intrinsically so, and that it may discover new uses for the concepts in new statements (predictions, extensions, etc.) or through the new use of technology (recall the passage quoted from Philosophy and the Physicists).

Notice that Stebbing resists the temptation to claim that old paradigms were simply false; that what we thought was true was actually false. Rather, she suggests that one can say true things without actually fully understanding the concepts one uses. "This happens when we understand to some extent what we are saying but do not understand clearly exactly what we are saying." This vantage point is extraordinary difficult to achieve about one's own (paradigmatic) utterances, but does become more easily available during and after a paradigm shift.

On this view part of the point of the later paradigm, of the growth of knowledge more generally, is to elucidate how we could speak truth before while strictly speaking not always understanding fully our own concepts. Stebbing here alerts us to the role of philosophy, analytic clarification, within science during shifts in the research frontier. (Of course, this is not philosophy’s only role.)

There is, of course, a wider lesson here about our lives in societies characterized by complex, cognitive division of labor. In the quoted passage, Newton represents the human condition; as through the growth of science and technology the concepts of the scientific image encroach on the manifest image, and as the division of labor within the sciences becomes ever more fine-grained, it is inevitable that at any given time we say true things without understanding the concepts we use. Somewhat paradoxically then, the clarity that is the effect of analytic clarification grows while science and technology grows; but (ahh) simultaneously their growth means that we often are simultaneously in the dark about the truths we utter confidently.

• This first appeared at: <Stebbing on Clarity with nods to Kuhn, Sellars, and Quine (substack.com)> a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

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[1] For recent careful work on directional/metaphysical analysis see, Annalisa Coliva "Stebbing, Moore (and Wittgenstein) on common sense and metaphysical analysis." British Journal for the History of Philosophy 29.5 (2021): 914-934. Douglas, Alexander X., and Jonathan Nassim. "Susan stebbing’s logical interventionism." History and Philosophy of Logic 42.2 (2021): 101-117. Neither paper is interested in analytic clarification of a concept. 

* For example, back in 2003, in "Susan Stebbing on Cambridge and Vienna Analysis," Michael Beaney assimilates Stebbing's idea of 'analytic clarification of a concept' to Russell’s ‘paradigm’ of analysis. Beaney writes, "I might say ‘It is false that the present King of France is bald’, and take myself (as Meinong and the early Russell did) to be referring to some subsistent (as opposed to existent) object. According to Russell’s theory of descriptions, I am saying something true, despite my confusion as to what I am referring. What we have, then, is also paraphrastic analysis – the aim being here, though, to ‘analyse away’ a problematic expression." (343-344) Later in (2016) "Susan Stebbing and the Early Reception of Logical Empiricism in Britain," Beaney simply skips discussing the analytic clarification of a concept after mentioning its existence.[4] In his (2021) SEP entry on Stebbing with Chapman, they do not even mention it. More recently, Karl Egerton (2021) "Susan Stebbing and the Truthmaker Approach to Metaphysics."[6] also assimilates 'analytic clarification' to analytic definition, but is not much interested in exploring it. Oddly, in Beaney and Egerton ignore Stebbing's claim that analytic clarification a is very different kind of analysis.

**See also Körber, Silke. "Thinking About the “Common Reader:” Otto Neurath, L. Susan Stebbing and the (Modern) Picture-Text Style." Neurath Reconsidered: New Sources and Perspectives (2019): 456.

Again, Foucault, Kuhn, Carnap and Incommensurability

Despite the reassuring pleasure that historians of medicine may feel when they recognise in the great ledgers of confinement what they consider to be the timeless, familiar face of psychotic hallucinations, cognitive deficiencies, organic consequences or paranoid states, it is impossible to draw up a coherent nosological map from the descriptions that were used to confine the insane. The formulations that justify confinement are not presentiments of our diseases, but represent instead an experience of madness that occasionally intersects with our pathological analyses, but which could never coincide with them in any coherent manner. The following are some examples taken at random from entries on confinement registers for those of ‘unsound mind’: ‘obstinate plaintiff’, ‘has obsessive recourse to legal procedures’, ‘wicked cheat’, ‘man who spends days and nights deafening others with his songs and shocking their ears with horrible blasphemy’, ‘bill poster’, ‘great liar’, ‘gruff, sad, unquiet spirit’. There is little sense in wondering if such people were sick or not, and to what degree, and it is for psychiatrists to identify the paranoid in the ‘gruff’, or to diagnose a ‘deranged mind inventing its own devotion’ as a clear case of obsessional neurosis. What these formulae indicate are not so much sicknesses as forms of madness perceived as character faults taken to an extreme degree, as though in confinement the sensibility to madness was not autonomous, but linked to a moral order where it appeared merely as a disturbance. Reading through the descriptions next to the names on the register, one is transported back to the world of Brant and Erasmus, a world where madness leads the round of moral failings, the senseless dance of immoral lives.

And yet the experience is quite different. In 1704, an abbot named Bargedé was confined in Saint-Lazare. He was seventy years old, and he was locked up so that he might be ‘treated like the other insane’. His principal occupation was 

lending money at high interest, beyond the most outrageous, odious usury, for the benefit of the priesthood and the Church. He will neither repent from his excesses nor acknowledge that usury is a sin. He takes pride in his greed. Michel Foucault (1961) [2006] History of Madness, Translated by Jonathan Murphy and Jean Khalfa, pp. 132-133

In larger context, Foucault is describing how during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (the so-called 'classical age') a great number of people (Foucault suggests a number of 1% of the urban population) were locked up in a system of confinement orthogonal to the juridical system (even though such confinement was often practically indistinguishable from prison--both aimed at moral reform through work and sermons). This 'great confinement' included people with venereal disease, those who engaged in sodomy and libertine practices as well as (inter alia) those who brought dishonor (and financial loss) to their families alongside the mad and frenzied.

To the modern reader the population caught up in the 'great confinement' seems rather heterogeneous in character, but their commonality becomes visible, according to Foucault, when one realizes that it's (moral) disorder that they have in common from the perspective of classical learning. According to Foucault there is "no rigorous distinction between moral failings and madness." (p. 138) Foucault inscribes this (moral disorder of the soul/will) category into a history of 'Western unreason' that helps constitute (by way of negation) the history of early modern rationalism (with special mention of Descartes and Spinoza). Like a true Kantian, Foucault sees (theoretical) reason as shaped by practical decision as constitutive of the whole classical era (see especially p. 139).  My present interest is not to relitigate the great Derrida-Foucault debate over this latter move, or Foucault's tendency to treat -- despite his nominalist sensibilities -- whole cultural eras as de facto organically closed systems (of the kind familiar from nineteenth century historiography).

My interest here is in the first two sentences of the quoted passage. It describes what Thomas Kuhn called 'incommensurability' in The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. Kuhn's Structure appeared in 1962, and initially there seems to have been no mutual influence. I don't want to make Foucault more precise than he is, but we can fruitfully suggest that for Foucault incommensurability involves the general inability to create a coherent mapping between two theoretical systems based on their purported descriptive content. I phrase it like to capture Foucault's emphasis on 'descriptions' and to allow -- mindful of Earman and Fine ca 1977 -- that some isolated terms may well be so mapped. As an aside, I am not enough of a historian of medicine (or philosopher of psychology) to know whether nosological maps can be used for such an exercise. (It seems like a neat idea!) 

So, Foucault is thinking about ruptures between different successive scientific cultures pretty much from the start of his academic writing (recall this post on the later The Order of Things). In fact, reading History of Madness after reading a lot of Foucault's other writings suggests a great deal of continuity in Foucault's thought--pretty much all the major themes of his later work are foreshadowed in it (and it also helps explain that he often didn't have to start researching from scratch in later writings and lectures). 

In fact, reading Foucault with Kuhn lurking in the background helps one see how important a kind of Kantianism is to Foucault's diagnosis of incommensurability. I quote another passage in the vicinity that I found illuminating:

The psychopathology of the nineteenth century (and perhaps our own too, even now) believes that it orients itself and takes its bearings in relation to a homo natura, or a normal man pre-existing all experience of mental illness. Such a man is in fact an invention, and if he is to be situated, it is not in a natural space, but in a system that identifies the socius to the subject of the law. Consequently a madman is not recognised as such because an illness has pushed him to the margins of normality, but because our culture situates him at the meeting point between the social decree of confinement and the juridical knowledge that evaluates the responsibility of individuals before the law. The ‘positive’ science of mental illness and the humanitarian sentiments that brought the mad back into the realm of the human were only possible once that synthesis had been solidly established. They could be said to form the concrete a priori of any psychopathology with scientific pretensions.--pp. 129-130

For Foucault, a concrete a priori is itself the effect of often indirect cultural construction or stabilization. In fact, for Foucault it tends to be an effect of quite large-scale and enduring ('solidly') social institutions (e.g., the law, penal/medical institutions) and material practices/norms. The discontinuity between concrete a priori's track what we may call scientific revolutions in virtue of the fact that systems of knowledge before and after a shift in a concrete a priori cannot possibly be tracking the same system of 'objects' (or 'empirical basis'). 

I don't mean to suggest that for Foucault a system of knowledge cannot be itself a source/cause of what he calls a 'synthesis' that makes a concrete a priori possible. That possibility is explicitly explored in (his discussion of Adam Smith in) his The Order of Things. But on the whole a system of knowledge tends to lag the major cultural shifts that produce a concrete a priori. 

Let me wrap up. A full generation after Structure appeared there was a belated and at the time revisionary realization that Structure could be read as a kind of neo-Kantian text and, as such, was actually not very far removed from Carnap's focus on frameworks and other projects in the vicinity that were committed to various kinds of relativized or constitutive a prioris. This literature started, I think, with Reisch 1991. (My own scholarship has explored [see here; here] the surprising resonances between Kuhn's Structure and the self-conception of economists and the sociology of Talcott Parsons at the start of twentieth century and the peculiar fact that Kuhn's Structure was foreshadowed in Adam Smith's philosophy of science.) I mention Carnap explicitly because not unlike Carnap [see Stone; Sachs, and the literature it inspired], Foucault does not hide his debts to Nietzsche. 

So here's my hypothesis and diagnosis: it would have been much more natural to read Structure as a neo/soft/extended-Kantian text if analytic philosophers had not cut themselves off from developments in Paris. While I do not want to ignore major differences of emphasis on scope between Kuhn and Foucault, their work of 1960 and 1962 has a great deal of family resemblance despite non-trivial differences in intellectual milieus. I actually think this commonality is not an effect of a kind of zeitgeist or the existence of an episteme--as I suggested in this post, it seems to be a natural effect of starting from a broadly domesticated Kantianism. But having said that, that it was so difficult initially to discern the neo-Kantian themes in Kuhn also suggests that not reading the French developments -- by treating 'continental thought' as instances of unreason (which is Foucault's great theme) -- also created a kind of Kuhn loss in the present within analytic philosophy. 

 

 

A note on Foucault and Kuhn on Scientific Revolutions, and Adam SMith & Stigler.

And thus, in fragments here and there, political economy is thought to have been silently bringing into position its essential themes, until the moment when, taking up the analysis of production again in another direction, Adam Smith is supposed to have brought to light the process of the increasing division of labour, Ricardo the role played by capital, and J-B. Say some of the fundamental laws of the market economy. From this moment on, political economy is supposed to have begun to exist with its own proper object and its own inner coherence.
In fact, the concepts of money, price, value, circulation, and market were not regarded, in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, in terms of a shadowy future, but as part of a rigorous and general epistemological arrangement. It is this arrangement that sustains the 'analysis of wealth' in its overall necessity. The analysis of wealth is to political economy what general grammar is to philology and what natural history is to biology. And just as it is not possible to understand the theory of verb and noun, the analysis of the language of action, and that of roots and their development, without referring, through the study of general grammar, to the archaeological network that makes those things possible and necessary; just as one cannot understand, without exploring the domain of natural history, what Classical description, characterization, and taxonomy were, any more than the opposition between system and method, or Tixism' and 'evolution'; so, in the same way, it would not be possible to discover the link of necessity that connects the analysis of money, prices, value, and trade if one did not first clarify this domain of wealth which is the locus of their simultaneity.--Michael Foucault The Order of Things (1970) {1994, Vintage Books Edition} Translated by Alan Sheridan* (original Les Mots et les Choses, 1966), pp. 166-167.+

In a correspondence shortly after Structure of Scientific Revolutions first appeared, Thomas Kuhn reminded the future Nobel laureate and Chicago Economist, George Stigler, that in Structure he considered economics as a mature science. The passage Kuhn refers to is one that illustrates Kuhn's argument for rejecting a definition of science. 

Furthermore, if precedent from the natural sciences serves, they will cease to be a source of concern not when a definition is found, but when the groups that now doubt their own status achieve consensus about their past and present accomplishments. It may, for example, be significant that economists argue less about whether their field is a science than do practitioners of some other fields of social science. Is that because economists know what science is? Or is it rather economics about which they agree?--Kuhn Structure (Second, enlarged edition), pp. 160-161.

What's notable about Kuhn's position here is that he ties essentially sociological and political criteria and concepts (viz., groups, status, consensus) to help identify if not characterize that we're in the presence of a scientific community. Undoubtedly this is familiar to my readers. But it's worth adding that the agreement isn't merely over the present, but also about the past. A few pages later Kuhn shows that it is textbook that generate such consensus over the past (pp. 165-167), and he is quite explicit that the textbook account of the past is outright fabrication: "the member of a mature scientific community is, like the typical character of Orwell's 1984, the victim of a history rewritten by the power that be." (167)

In Kuhn, the maturity of science and consensus are tightly intertwined and Kuhn is clear that both are, in part, the effect of textbook education (see also. p. 10). Now, I don't think Kuhn ever uses the language of 'immature' science (for it would be characterized by disagreement and so by definition is no science). But he does identify paradigmatic science with maturity, and so it is natural to treat what Kuhn calls as 'pre paradigm' period as the immature era which is, after, all  characterized by disagreement. In context Kuhn alerts the reader to the significance of this comment to "those concerned with the development of the contemporary social science sciences." (p.167)

As an aside, in "What is Enlightenment," Kant associates the progressive possibilities of intellectual autonomy, that is Enlightenment, with maturity. And the periods of authority over individual thought as immaturity. And there is interesting work to be done on the subtle shifts in and appropriations of Kantian commitments in Kuhn (and those that shaped Kuhn's philosophy.)

Before I return to Foucault, it is worth noting two features of Kuhn's position (that are textually connected in subsequent sentences, although I have reversed the presentational order). First, not all criteria that help identify a science are sociological or political in character. In particular, for Kuhn what makes consensus possible is the establishment of a paradigm (more about that below). And a paradigm is characterized by and makes "possible" what Kuhn calls "normal puzzle-solving research." (Postscript from 1969, p. 179) This seems very much internal to scientific practice, and undoubtedly can be characterized, in part, in epistemic terms.

However, and this is my second observation (and it is Foucault-ian in character), Kuhn explicitly assumes that there is no progressive puzzle-solving research in eras that are characterized by disunity of paradigms. Here's how Kuhn puts it: "The members of all scientific communities, including the schools of the "pre-paradigm" period, share the sorts of elements which I have collectively labelled 'a paradigm.' What changes with the transition to maturity is not the presence of a paradigm but rather its nature." (Postscript from 1969, p. 179) It's nature is that makes progressive puzzle-solving possible. So, paradigms make forward looking progress possible; and from the perspective of the paradigm, it's characteristic of the pre-paradigm era to exhibit "initial divergences" (17) of methods, evidential standards, and even what the subject matter really is.

It's quite odd that Kuhn doesn't notice that conceptually (and historically) it's quite possible that during disunified 'immature' eras the paradigms of the competing 'schools' (his term) can be progressive and be (or in virtue of their) puzzle-solving. (I actually think this is true even of cases central to his account of the scientific revolution in 17th century physics, but let me leave that aside here.) Since crisis eras of mature sciences are explicitly likened to pre-paradigmatic eras (72/84/101) -- and in crisis eras  of mature science there is still progressive puzzle-solving despite the anomalies - it is odd that Kuhn does not reflect on this.

Before I get to Foucault one important point as background. That there is a distinction between mature and immature sciences, and that they are seperated by intellectual revolutions of some sort, was widely held view among economists in the late nineteenth century through the middle of the twentieth centuries. This is, in fact, a point that Stigler kind of makes in his side of the correspondence with Kuhn. And he encloses a number of papers that show this. In addition, that consensus is a marker of such maturity is also present in economics. (I have done some scholarship to establish these points, too; see here; and here.) My own speculative view is that Adam Smith's essay on the History of Astronomy is the source, within nineteenth century and twentieth century economics of the existence of these proto-Kuhnian ideas within economics. (That he held such views see here.) But other intellectual sources are possible.

Okay, if we now look at the passage quoted at the top of the post, we see that in the first paragraph Foucault describes what he takes to be a common view on the transition from a fragmented prior era, to a mature unified intellectual discipline. It's easy to recognize a narrative that involves transition from a pre-paradigmatic stage to a paradigmatic stage here. Once there is a ruling paradigm, after all, a field has a coherent forward motion and a clearly defined subject matter (this is, in fact, the constitutive nature of a paradim). In fact, the narrative is common ground among economic textbooks and Marxists (who have a story about the developmental relationship between pre-classical and classicale economics).

I don't mean to suggest the common view is intended as a characterization of Kuhn's position. It's also more likely that Foucault is targeting a kind of whiggishness that is quite common in the writing of the growth of knowledge/science from within and about the sciences. But I don't think the distance between the two is as large as we often now understand it in post Kuhnian philosophy of science. While Kuhn rejected the idea that there was a telos within or of science (he is fond of comparing it to the undirecteness of Darwinian evolution), he still inscribes a soft teleology into his account in virtue of the way the mature/immature, diverging/consensus, and pre-paradigm/paradigm (all seperated by a revolution) distinctions (and the associated network of concepts) operate in his account. Kuhn has gone  native (and so as a matter of Kuhn interpretation he is right to reject the extreme relativists/constructivists in science studioes that have presented him as their progenitor).

But in the second quoted paragraph Foucault goes on to reject the common view. For him the pre-Smithian (and pre-classical) political economists were not different in kind with those that followed Smith-Ricardo-Say. They held very different kind of views and with different methods, but that is because the thought of the age was structured by a very different kind of set of conceptual background conditions (episteme).  These conceptual background conditions can be stable over considerable time and act on and through many different intellectual disciplines at once for Foucault. (Part of the excitement of Foucault's book is his analysis of the structural analogies of different disciplines in the same era (defined by an episteme). I leave aside here the mechanisms of how this is supposed to work.

Now, crucially for my present concerns Foucault recognizes ruptures between successive eras (epistemes) and within disciplines within eras.* These can coincide, when ruptures within disciplines lead to a new era. Interestingly enough, as it happens (and I return to this some other time) Adam Smith's work is a vector of such micro rupture in a field that also happens to inaugurate a much larger set of shifts. (I am not ascribing to Foucault a causal account here because I want to avoid discussing here his account of large scale change between epistemes.)**

So, in Foucault's account, from the perspective of a later time (within a discipline), especially in a later episteme, the earlier work will, when intelligible at all, seem childish or disunified. Very much the way Kuhn describes immature, pre-paradigm eras. But on Foucault's own all things considered view, this is a kind of optical illusion, itself the effect of unexamined teleological commitments. One is literally unable to see what he calls 'the link of necessity that connects' the conceptual structure and practices of those in an earlier age. And because Foucault doesn't use consensus as a marker of scienticity or disciplined knowledge he can actually analyze how it works -- and since he is interested in human sciences -- and how such knowledge works on humans on its own (contested) terms.**

To be continued.

Two Dogmas of The Image of Science

An image of science (recall these posts on Hume, Williamson, Spinoza) contains a list of characteristics that function as short-hand for representing science when these characteristics are used in debates where one side (or more) appeals to the (epistemic) authority of science to settle debate. Images of science can circulate within the sciences, in public discussion, and even in philosophy. Here are two dogmas in the contemporary image of science:

(1) While science may be a complex network of collaboration and competition, it also involves a self-correcting and free exchange of ideas.

(2) Consensus is the natural effect of a proper functioning mature science.

Within philosophy, these two dogmas are familiar from Thomas Kuhn's work. Within economics and formal decision theory the dogmas are linked (at least since Aumann (1976), where (1) helps generate (2)).

In some contexts such consensus within science is a species of higher order evidence and generally a cue to defer to the science. And this reinforces how science can settle debate, and thereby open space for public action (assuming that prior to action there is public debate). Lurking in the previous two sentences is the idea that science can provide (some) authority to public policy based on it. So it is no surprise that governments promote institutions that help discover or articulate such consensus. In practice, governments and science, while distinct from each other (and sometimes at odds), frequently lend each other (some) authority by presupposing and reinforcing the two dogmas. 

So far so good. 

But because settled science is so important to authoritative action [and consensus such an important proxy of it], this also creates incentives to generate or organize the appearance of consensus. And there is conceptual space for such organized consensus. For even if one grants that consensus is the natural effect of a proper functioning mature science, this is compatible with consensus also being the effect of malfunctioning science. Let's call the agreement that is the product of malfunctioning science 'ersatz consensus.' (And I'll use 'real consensus' when I distinguish a naturally occurring consensus from the ersatz type.) 

It's worth noting that, despite the way I have phrased it in previous paragraph, participants in malfunctioning science need not have the intent to produce an ersatz consensus. By this I mean two things: first, some strategic agents may well intentionally wish to promote deliberate confusion such that there does not seem consensus at all (think of the tobacco industry on the relationship between smoking and cancer; or the energy industry and man-made global warming, etc.). Second, sometimes an ersatz consensus is the product of the absence of proper exchange of ideas in science (because of bad replication or publication practices, or because of temporary embargoes on circulation of ideas [not uncommon in medical and defense sciences]). So, sometimes ersatz consensus is the effect of top-down organization, and sometimes it's the effect of bottom-up failures of process.

It's not surprising that for outsiders it's incredibly difficult to distinguish between an ersatz consensus and a real consensus, especially if the science is incredibly esoteric and/or interdisciplinary. But sometimes it is very difficult for insiders to know whether the consensus view is real or ersatz in their own science. There need not be anything nefarious about this; all that's needed is that because of say extensive cognitive division of labor even insiders may be unaware (of the nature and extent of) that the process that shapes the exchange of ideas within their own science is malfunctioning. 

Even though I have well known skeptical leanings, I don't want to exaggerate the claim in the previous two sentences. There are forensic techniques that provide signals about such matters. In addition folks in adjoining sciences may have the skill set to notice communicative problems I am hinting at. (In a way that's the story of how the replication crisis got tackled.) But it may take  time to sort such things out.

Notice that so far I have not touched the two dogmas of the contemporary image of the science (although I have hinted that (1) may be an idealization). What I have done is extrapolate some of their mutual entailments. 

As an aside, even without governments nudging us to accept a scientific consensus is authoritative, (2) has very deep roots in the intellectual culture. The Stoic sages and the Spinozistic wise are said to agree, and I am sure you can list a whole number of other examples. But -- pace Kuhn -- it is worth noting that there were scientific periods where within science persistent disagreement over many important issues was not taken to be embarrassing (I think this was common view of late nineteenth century physics if you go look at Poincare, Duhem, Hertz, Mach, etc.). 

For, it is worth noting however that (2) is not self-evident in all contexts. Sometimes different scientific research groups within the same scientific community rely on different auxiliary assumptions or computational shortcuts to generate (say) agreed upon predictions (go check out real-life examples of Quine-Duhem thesis). So even though at one level of description there may be consensus, at another level of description (including the auxiliaries) there is not. I suspect this situation is endemic in a lot of sciences. (Again, over time this may well be sorted out if the auxiliaries start to matter for some reason.)

In addition, in a very neat recent paper, Kevin Dorst has argued (on the Bayesian terrain of Aumann) -- in the context of trying to provide a mechanism for group polarization -- that if evidence is ambiguous we should not expect consensus. (He has a neat scientific example, so go read it.) My view is that in sciences with incredibly robust and mathematically refined background theories (and instruments) such ambiguity of evidence may well be rare, but that in many sciences ambiguity of evidence and, thus, lack of consensus is to be expected and rational. 

Let me stop here for now.

 

 

Machery on Science and Philosophy

How can we be responsible and savvy consumers of science, particularly when it gives us morally and politically pleasing narratives? Philosophers’ fascination with the psychology of attitudes is an object lesson.

Some of the most exciting philosophy in the 21^st century has been done with an eye towards philosophically significant developments in science. Social psychology has been a reliable source of insights: consider only how much ink has been spilled on situationism and virtue ethics or on Greene’s dual-process model of moral judgment and deontology.

...

Hindsight is of course 20/20, and it would be ill-advised to blame philosophers (including my former self) for taking seriously science in the making. On the other hand, philosophers failed to even listen and a fortiori to give a fair hearing to the dissenting voices challenging the relentless hype by implicit-attitudes cheerleaders. The lesson is not limited to implicit attitudes: the neuroscience of meditation, the neuroscience of oxytocin, the so-called love molecule, the experimental research on epigenetics in humans, and the research on gene x environment interaction in human genetics also come to mind.

Philosophers, including myself, have for decades been too credulous about science, being misled by scientists’ marketing and ignoring the unavoidable uncertainties that affect the scientific process: the frontier of science is replete with unreplicable results, it is affected by hype and exaggeration (COVID researchers, I am looking at you!), and its course is shaped by deeply rooted cognitive and motivational biases. In fact, we should be particularly mindful of the uncertainty of science when it appears to provide a simple explanation for, and promises a simple solution to, the moral, social, and political ills that we find repugnant such as the underrepresentation of women in philosophy and elsewhere and enduring racial inequalities in the broader society.--Edouard Machery "Implicit Attitudes, Science, and Philosophy" @Daily Nous

A few years ago (2014), Merel Lefevere and I coined “The-Everybody-Did-It” (TEDI) Syndrome, to discuss symptoms of collective negligence in science and other epistemic communities. We were, of course, not the first to identify group-think nor the first to note that an appeal to TEDI was used by participating individuals as kind of blanket get out of jail card (viz. Machery's claim it would be "ill-advised to blame philosophers"). I mention the date on that paper because it was published before the first study of the The Reproducibility Project was published. In our paper, we draw, en passant, on (1993) Feigenbaum and Levy to alert the reader that different scientific fields have very diverging practices when it comes to replicating results or sharing data and that there are well-known incentives and other formal and informal barriers against publishing replications or dis-conformations.* Our main epistemic point was that one cannot assume that scientific fields are perfectly functioning communicative communities (with a perfect market in ideas). 

This point was not a sudden revelation for me. In my very first (2005) article in the philosophy of economics a decade earlier, I drew on work by Deirdre McCloskey, who had been warning against the cult of statistical significance for a long time, to point out that often, in the absence of robust background theory, the use of statistical significance created the illusion of scientific rigor. I also argued that much of social science, including elite reaches of economics, had a confirmatory bias rather than (with a nod to Popper) what I called a 'stress-testing' attitude.**

In his piece, Machery simultaneously presents himself (and other philosophers) as victims ("misled by scientists’ marketing"), as naïve ("too credulous"), and wishful thinking ("motivational bias") amongst other ills. While I applaud his willingness to take stock and derive lessons from the past, I would argue, by contrast, that Machery and his peers could have done better if he hadn't viewed himself as a "consumer" of science, but as a responsible [since we're in the realm of economic metaphors] co-producer of knowledge. My interest is not to score-keep, but to ensure that we learn the right lessons (some of which Machery also advocates). What do I have in mind?

The consumer model posits a deferential asymmetry between the expert specialist scientist and the philosopher. That's not altogether surprising because the expert is (ahh) an expert whereas the philosopher is not. And so lurking in Machery's narrative is a strict cognitive division of labor in which all philosophers need to do -- when they want to use some bit of social science for their own end -- is sample (say) abstracts and conclusions and then choose the right one that will satisfy their needs. The consumer on this (tacit) model is not or barely responsible for the quality control of the science she selects.

And that's because in the consumer model there is generally a commitment to the proposition that scientific communities have what we might call an efficient market in ideas. And this proposition tends to entail that quality control within science is thorough and rapidly arbitrages away any serious epistemic problems. Machery recognizes that this can't be quite right ("the frontier of science is replete with unreplicable results"), but his main solution (in the post), is to be suspicious of simple solutions for social ills, while undoubted salutary, leaves the consumer model in place.

Now, the previous paragraphs are a bit of caricature (not the least about Machery who has the skillset to engage on quite technical details of science), but treat the consumer model as a provisional ideal type. Here's another norm of science associated with a different ideal type (it's associated with Michael Polanyi's ideas about the republic of science and the role of adjoining disciplines in maintaining quality control in the whole chain of disciplines): when you use science in non-trivial fashion for your own epistemic ends, you re-do the calculations, learn to use the relevant models, and where possible check the evidence and arguments, etc.+ Obviously, that falls short of replicating experiments and being authoritative in the field. (But someone like Hasok Chang may well suggest, go replicate!) If philosophers had done their own forensic job in the uptake of (say) social psychology, the fragility of much of the work would have been transparent to them (or at least noticeable) and could have played a fruitful role in their discussions (and arguably in social psychology). Yes, that's very easy to say after the fact, but as I noted above I was saying some such stuff before the fact.***

Obviously, the kind of work I mention in the previous paragraph is time-consuming and also transforms the nature of expertise of those who use social science for their own ends. On this model philosophers who want to deploy social science for their own ends move from being consumers, who rely on external markers of quality control, to being co-responsible for the 'scientific' supply chain. Of course, there are some epistemic short-cuts (say by teaming up with others, getting advanced degrees in an adjoining field) each with their own risk and rewards, but there are no magic bullets. 

Obviously, there are fields (e.g., climate science, bits of neuroscience, epidemiology, etc.) where the underlying science draws itself on so many kinds of expertise and different kinds of evidence, that a lone philosopher is in a very bad position to do any forensic work. In my view, in such areas to be a responsible co-producer of knowledge requires joining either a research team, an interdisciplinary center with active research meetings, or to cultivate a wide area of diverging scientific 'informants' so that you familiarize yourself with the working discussions of such teams when they evaluate the evidence that the composite parts create and how they evaluate claims of other teams (etc.). 

One way to mitigate the possibility of TEDI, Lefevere and I argue, is to make sure that in epistemic communities dissenting voices are heard and credited. (We think that facilitating this, even seeking out and amplifying critics, is a special role of aggregators [Polanyi calls these (recall) 'influentials']--prominent figures in the field that also interface with other fields and policy areas.) So, I am pleased to learn that Machery agrees (although a bit sad he did not credit us, or Polanyi!) As Machery notes, another way to mitigate the possibility of TEDI, is to seek out directly critics of one's views. 

In a zero-sum (funding and jobs) contest it's not so easy to ensure that the dissenters are heard. I mentioned the Feigenbaum and Levy paper because I also learned (from Levy) that back in the day, they had trouble obtaining grants for follow up research. Unsurprisingly they switched research focus. 

Often nay-sayers and critics are shut up by demanding that they offer an alternative theory or alternative approach to solve some problem. (If one is shaped by Kuhnian ideas or cost-benefit analysis ignoring critics may well be thought rational.) This norm  asymmetrically rewards the most confident voices. But the burden of proof ought to be on the producers of knowledge not on the critics. 

But if we philosophers are also knowledge producers, as I claim we are when we use science for our own ends, then we, too, must be willing to listen and seek out the critics of particular sciences within philosophy. In fact, lots of philosophy of special sciences house folk with critical attitudes toward reigning orthodoxy in a field they study without in any sense being anti-scientific (here are some examples, feel free to add your own): think of Stegenga's work on medical evidence, Femke Truijens (a former student) on clinical validity of clinical research in therapy, Jay Oldenburg and Anna Alexandrova on robustness analysis, Joel Katzav (and his colleagues) on the role of probabilistic assessment in climate science, and a whole range of philosophers of physics who helped develop challenges to 'Copenhagen.'

Even so, I suspects lots of professional philosophers worry that criticisms of particular ruling orthodoxy in science, slides into a kind of anti-science (familiar of now relatively dormant strains in continental/STS or in America's religious right), or might be co-opted by politically noxious forces. As Eric Winsberg, Neil Levy, and I warned, we saw this play out in the recent covid crisis.

In fact, riding on the coat-tails of hyped new science to tenure has been a rewarding rite of passage within analytic philosophy for a long time now. (No, I am not going to name names.) As Machery notes, it is kind of constitutive of "some of the most exciting philosophy" to do so.

We need to have more tools to think about the forensic role of philosophers as responsible co-producers of knowledge (when we are doing so), and the inductive risks involved. In my experience philosophers tend to resist wanting to internalize the inductive risk of our own work because we tend to model/understand ourselves as pure truth-seekers. The moment you critically introduce the incentive structure of the scientists or of the philosophers deploying that science, you are quickly accused of 'doing sociology' and somehow ignoring evidence or epistemic issues (it's an interesting fact that within philosophy and economics 'sociology' can still be used as a pejorative). About that some other time more (or just google 'methodological analytic egalitarianism'). But if we leave the consumer model in place, and the incentives for how we evaluate some of the most exciting philosophy, it is a means of making future generations of philosophers as credulous as ours. Perhaps, that's the human condition, but it would be nice if we could try to do better.

 

Kuhn, Ortega y Gasset, Adam Smith and Mental Mutilation (and even a side comment on Graeber and Wengrow)

Who is it that exercises social power to-day? Who imposes the forms of his own mind on the period? Without a doubt, the man of the middle class. Which group, within that middle class, is considered the superior, the aristocracy of the present? Without a doubt, the technician: engineer, doctor, financier, teacher, and so on. Who, inside the group of technicians, represents it at its best and purest? Again, without a doubt, the man of science...

And now it turns out that the actual scientific man is the prototype of the mass-man. Not by chance, not through the individual failings of each particular man of science, but because science itself-the root of our civilisation-automatically converts him into mass-man, makes of him a primitive, a modem barbarian. The fact is well known; it has made itself clear over and over again; but only when fitted into its place in the organism of this thesis is does it take on its full meaning and its evident seriousness...

But the development of physics introduced a task opposite in character to unification. In order to progress, science demanded specialisation, not in herself, but in men of science. Science is not specialist. If it were, it would ipso facto cease to be true. Not even empirical science, taken in its integrity, can be true if separated from mathematics, from logic, from philosophy. But scientific work does, necessarily, require to be specialised.

It would be of great interest, and of greater utility than at first sight appears, to draw up the history of physical and biological sciences, indicating the process of increasing specialisation in the work of investigators. It would then be seen how, generation after generation, the scientist has been gradually restricted and confined into narrower fields of mental occupation. But this is not the importantpoint that such a history would show, but rather the reverse side of the matter: bow in each generation the scientist, through having to reduce the sphere of his labour, was progressively losing contact with other branches of science, with that integral interpretation of the universe which is the only thing deserving the names of science, culture, European civilisation.--José Ortega y Gasset (1932) The Revolt of the Masses (anonymous translator), pp. 108-110.

One the least flattering elements to science of Tomas Kuhn's philosophy of science is his insistence that most normal science is akin to puzzle-solving of a very specialized kind. And as Kuhn reminds his audience, "it is no criterion of goodness in a puzzle that its outcome be intrinsically interesting or important... intrinsic value is no criterion for a puzzle." It follows from this view, that science -- broadly viewed as a social institution -- selects for a certain kind of narrow, to-be-disciplined ingenuity. Of course, that's compatible with, as Kuhn hastens to add, a whole range of nobler motives in the scientist to join in science and stick with it. Kuhn's treatment of science is a functional analysis not psychological. But at bottom, science flourishes on a socially useful mental mutilation--and if you think that phrase too strong, Kuhn himself, more modern (and so medicalized) uses the euphemistic language of "addiction.

Kuhn leaves unaddressed whether society, which, let's stipulate, largely benefits from the fruits of scientific activity, owes the scientists any concern. Certain kinds of addiction may well be compatible with individual happiness after all. But if one takes a more expansive view of human flourishing, there is something disconcerting about the picture Kuhn draws for the scientist qua individual.

Writing a generation ahead of Kuhn, Ortega y Gasset emphasizes a mental mutilation (notice the 'barbarism') in the vicinity of puzzle-solving: hyper-specialization as an effect of the cognitive division of labor. To underlying claim is pretty clear: in order to advance on the research-frontier, one must focus on increasingly esoteric material disconnected from most other features of one's discipline and the other science. Kuhn himself captures the idea in terms of the effect of 'subdivision.'

Now, earlier in the (short) book than the passage I quoted (from chapter 12), Ortega y Gasset had offered an earnest plea for the continued significance of pure science as the fount of all technical advance (see chapter 9). And on his view this requires that the larger society embraces a set of ideals and mores conducive to people wanting to become scientists. (He recognizes that with rising affluence would be scientists have lots of other opportunities. Although his real interest is in culture.) So, Ortega y Gasset is not a critic of science or scientists as such. 

But, anticipating James Burnham and echoing themes also familiar from Hayek, he thinks both that modern "men of science" ((112)) his is a very gendered view) are the exemplary element in (to use Burnham's terminology) the ascendant managerial class, and that their mental mutilation -- their hyper-specialization -- makes them wholly unsuitable to the task of political and cultural leadership. Because while the "specialist "knows" very well his tiny corner of the universe, he is radically ignorant of the rest." (111) He is an "learned ignoramus." (112) 

The problem is, however, that while most specialists understand their own limitations and stay in their lane, the ones that stray into "politics, art, religion, and the general problems of life and the world" are likely too impressed by their own skills and smarts. (I need not remind you here of the pontificating popular scientist who makes elementary philosophical blunders and seems oddly unread.) Interestingly enough, Ortega y Gasset is not especially interested in the policy failures this may engender. Rather he thinks once these kind of people are empowered to shape society, they will fail to reproduce a culture worth having. And while he understands himself as a liberal democrat, this part of Ortega y Gasset's project is clearly very indebted to Nietszche's musing about the last man.

What Ortega y Gasset, himself a scion of Marburg Kantianism, failed to foresee is that in his own age, philosophy would also turn professional under the leadership of Carnap and Ernest Nagel, And that we, too, have become increasingly a  discipline of specialists. So, by his light (and Kuhn's) we, too, are likely to be mentally mutilated.

Because alienation is associated with Marxism, I am using 'mental mutilation.' Ortega y Gassett's interest in the political significance of mental mutilation is anticipated by Adam Smith.  I don't know whether Smith was the first person to diagnose mental mutilation as a side effect of employment, but his version of it remains striking (recall):

In the progress of the division of labour, the employment of the far greater part of those who live by labour, that is, of the great body of the people, comes to be confined to a few very simple operations, frequently to one or two. But the understandings of the greater part of men are necessarily formed by their ordinary employments. The man whose whole life is spent in performing a few simple operations, of which the effects too are, perhaps, always the same, or very nearly the same, has no occasion to exert his understanding, or to exercise his invention in finding out expedients for removing difficulties which never occur. He naturally loses, therefore, the habit of such exertion, and generally becomes as stupid and ignorant as it is possible for a human creature to become. The torpor of his mind renders him, not only incapable of relishing or bearing a part in any rational conversation, but of conceiving any generous, noble, or tender sentiment, and consequently of forming any just judgment concerning many even of the ordinary duties of private life. Of the great and extensive interests of his country, he is altogether incapable of judging; and unless very particular pains have been taken to render him otherwise, he is equally incapable of defending his country in war. The uniformity of his stationary life naturally corrupts the courage of his mind, and makes him regard with abhorrence the irregular, uncertain, and adventurous life of a soldier. It corrupts even the activity of his body, and renders him incapable of exerting his strength with vigour and perseverance, in any other employment than that to which he has been bred. His dexterity at his own particular trade seems, in this manner, to be acquired at the expence of his intellectual, social, and martial virtues. But in every improved and civilized society this is the state into which the labouring poor, that is, the great body of the people, must necessarily fall, unless government takes some pains to prevent it. Adam Smith Wealth of Nations WN 5.1.f 50

Smith is explicit that the structural cause of the underlying problem is the division of labor. And while the example of those who are confined to a few very simple operations is a limiting case, ,Smith leaves no doubt that social advancements come at the expense of most of our individual capacities. Unlike most members of 'team progress,' he thinks, as he puts it in the next paragraph, that people in 'backward' civilizations actually have better trained and cultivated judgments, including most notably political judgments:

It is otherwise in the barbarous societies, as they are commonly called, of hunters, of shepherds, and even of husbandmen in that rude state of husbandry which precedes the improvement of manufactures, and the extension of foreign commerce. In such societies the varied occupations of every man oblige every man to exert his capacity, and to invent expedients for removing difficulties which are continually occurring. Invention is kept alive, and the mind is not suffered to fall into that drowsy stupidity, which, in a civilized society, seems to benumb the understanding of almost all the inferior ranks of people. In those barbarous societies, as they are called...Every man too is in some measure a statesman, and can form a tolerable judgment concerning the interest of the society, and the conduct of those who govern it.  

I used this very passage (recall) in responding to an essay by David Graeber and David Wengrow, and could re-use it in light of their recent The Dawn of Everything. They attribute something like this insight to Marshal Sahlins, and it informs a lot of the most glorious passages in their book when they describe the statesmen and women of native society in colorful detail. I mention the book, because one effect of their argument is to make me see that for Smith what we may call republican self-government (of the sort promoted by Graeber and Wengrow) of society becomes every more problematic as the division of labor advances to encompass all.* And so there is a sense in which we should not be surprised by the near disappearance of such practices of deliberative self-governing citizen assemblies (that Graeber and Wengrow like): it's a prediction that follows naturally from Smith's theory. Our representative assemblies should then be viewed as a necessary, second best.

That Smith is also concerned with the effects on self-government is clear from the next paragraphs where he holds up as exemplar "Greek and Roman republics." (His main interest is, however on 'martial spirit.') Notice, that size of population or scale are not the issue on limits of self-government. (This is rightly attached by Graeber and Wengrow.) Rather, it's the division of labor that makes us collectively smarter, but individually stupider. 

Now, Smith himself thought that to combat life-long mental mutilation, the state should creative conditions in which kids needed to be taught alongside literacy, the "principles of geometry and mechanics." And in context it is clear that he thinks this, can promote self-government. It's unfortunate that Smith does not explain what the virtues of geometry and mechanics are such that they combat mental mutilation, but he does think that even in extreme division of labor the kind of principles one can discern in them would be regularly re-activated. 

Before one suspects that Smith's criticism of the 'working' classes is meant to open the door to the interest of capital, Smith himself thought the merchant classes could not be trusted with government because they would be too self-interested. But he takes for granted that  landowners and philosophers have room to take in a wider frame and develop good judgment (an important theme in Sam Fleischacker's interpretation of Smith). But since Smith's philosophy of science is broadly proto-Kuhnian, and the Wealth of Nation pretty much starts with the observation that philosophy has become incorporated into the division of labor, he cannot be sanguine about its future.

As an aside, even though Kuhn draws attention to the analogy between political and scientific revolutions, he himself thought that judgments were paradigm relative: "neither a decline nor a raising of standards." So, for Kuhn the problem that is immanent in his work never fully arises.

Writing just as the Great Depression is about to start, Ortega y Gasset's analysis implicitly suggests that Smith was too optimistic. That as the market grows and the division of labor becomes wider, as society becomes complexer, we should not expect good judgment among what passes for the educated classes at all. Because our universities will increasingly churn out hyper-specialists (including specialists in 'governance'); and even where there is book-learning as part of a liberal arts curriculum, political judgment can never be properly cultivated in a society like ours because all of us are always too distant from the conduct of those who govern us until it's too late.*

I should stop here. Yet, I want to add one more comment. The reservoir of nineteenth century bourgeois culture has been emptied. Despite the political implosion of Europe in the 1930s, liberal democracy recovered while the cognitive division of labor (and the economy) expanded greatly. We now have lots of tools that even expert practitioners have to black box (and arguably contributed to causing the Great Financial Recession). Yet our political process muddles through. This raises the suspicion that there is more judgment in our society than Ortega y Gasset has any right to expect, or that judgment is not needed. One cannot help but suspect that the unfolding environmental crisis will test both options severely.

 

 

Contextual Naturalism, Ernest Nagel, and The Philosophy of a Free Society.

It follows that the human scene is as much an integral part of nature, and as valid a subject for the philosopher's concern with basic features of existence, as is any of its other sectors. As contextualistic naturalism views them, man and his works are not inexplicable occurrences, incomparable in every respect with other natural processes. Men come into being and act the way they do only because of the operations of natural forces, and they perish or cease to behave as men when forces no less natural disrupt the normal organization of their bodies and of their fields of behavior. On the other hand, though the conditions of man’s life are thus continuous with the rest of nature, his behavior exhibits features which are discontinuous with other parts of existence. For man is not simply another odd item in the inexhaustible catalogue of created things. He possesses the apparently unique gift of an inquiring mind, which enables him not only to act under the compulsion of internal springs of action and external pressures, but also to direct his impulses and to master many of the forces in his environment.

This gift of intelligence man owes to the organization of his body and the character of his environment, and no supernatural agency or disembodied soul is required to explain it. It is this organization, complicated by the structure of his surroundings, which also accounts for men’s moral and evaluative behaviors. The possession of needs and preferences, and the exercise of reflection upon them in the interest of fulfilling and harmonizing them, are as natural to man as is, for example, the property of a magnet to repel or attract another magnet. In any event, it is in the radical plurality of men’s needs and in the limitations which their physical and social environment impose upon their fulfillment, that contextualistic naturalism locates the source and urgency of moral problems. Accordingly, it does not conceive the primary moral problem to be that of discovering or actually instituting some fixed set of ethical norms valid everywhere and for all time. For basic moral problems are plural in number and specific in character, and are concerned with the adjustment, in the light of causes and consequences, of competing impulses occurring in specific environmental contexts. There can therefore be no general or final solution to the moral predicaments of mankind; the moral problem is the perennial one of finding ways and means for eliminating needless suffering and for organizing in a reasonable manner the energies of men.

The advocacy of a responsible intellectual method, especially in matters pertinent to social and ethical issues as well as in philosophy, is thus an emphatic strain in the writings of contextualistic naturalists. For reliable knowledge is the end-product of a reflective process, involving the use of experimental controls over ideas which initially have the status of tentative hypotheses; and it is this procedure which must be employed if reliable knowledge and reason- able evaluations are to be attained in the settlement of social and moral conflicts. This method of science supplies no guarantees against error, it does not preclude alternative solutions to problems, and it certifies none of its conclusions as eternally valid. But since it is in essence a self-corrective method, and involves the continued criticism of its findings in the light of evidence capable of public inspection, it is a method which can discover its own errors. It is in any case the sole method which has historically shown itself able to yield intellectual and practical mastery over various segments of nature. From the systematic extension of the use of this method to the problems of men, contextualistic naturalists confidently anticipate an increased moral enlightenment. Compared with many fashionable philosophies contextualistic naturalism is almost prosaically sober. It contributes to the current intellectual scene no apocalyptic visions, no thunderous absolutes, no unshakeable certainties. It offers no spectacular promises of salvation. It is essentially scientific and secular in temper, but confident that the concentration of scientific methods upon specific problems will yield a rich harvest of genuine knowledge. It is sane and reasonable at a time when the tides of irrationalism run high in the world and when substitutes for the Appolonian virtues are at a premium. It expresses the convictions of a people confident that a bold but disciplined intelligence is still a creative power in the world.--Ernest Nagel (1947) "Philosophy and the American Temper" reprinted in Sovereign Reason (1954), pp. 56-7 (emphases added).

The other day, I called attention to Ernest Nagel's vision for philosophy of science (which is how he is remembered, if remembered at all). I wouldn't call his (1961) The Structure of Science: Problems in the Logic of Scientific Explanation especially lyrical. But even if we leave aside his role in constructing what became analytic philosophy, his essays -- mostly reviews, polemics, and serious studies of the major intellects of his day -- are full arresting asides and rhetorical gems (below I quote a few more).

The passage quoted above was written for a "European audience, and appeared in a French translation in the Chronique des Etats-Unis, a bi-monthly publication of the American office of Information in Paris, In April 1947" (309). I have found almost nothing about this periodical, but it stands to reason it was an instrument of the US State Department or the CIA. But I assume here that it was written before the cold war was a reality, although Nagel was already (recall) hostile to Marxism. In the following years he would publish withering reviews (in the Partisan Review; and Jphil) of Cornforth's Leninist attempts at refuting Carnap, logical empiricism, and pragmatism. So, while anachronistic, it would not be misleading to call "Philosophy and the American Temper" (hereafter: American Temper) a philosophy for cold war liberalism.

American Temper is a short essay. Part of the argument of the essay is a denial that there is a distinctive American philosophy. (Nagel shows no interest in indigenous thought.) He claims this follows straightforwardly from commitment to a "democratic way of life," which shows itself in a restraint from top-down imposition of an authorized philosophy and the expectation of pluralism that is, that the freedom to develop "alternative conceptions of nature and man" will be pursued (50). 

While I tend to think of Nagel as the leader of the scientific wing of twentieth century pragmatism, in American Temper, Nagel describes pragmatism as a decaying research program (53). That here Nagel is describing his own commitments as a 'contextual naturalist,' we can accept on no less authority than Isaac Levy (writing in the Routledge Encyclopedia). I mention this because while Nagel's association with contextual naturalism was noted by contemporary readers and reviewers of Nagel's essay (see here; here), the term never caught on. In a beautiful essay, Lawrence Cahoone makes an excellent case that Nagel's contextual naturalism is very indebted to Morris Cohen. In American Temper Nagel himself grants (53-4) that it grows out of later writings of Dewey, Sheldon's (1942) America's Progressive Philosophy, which is a species of process philosophy, and a collection edited by Krikorian (1944) Naturalism and the Human Spirit, which includes many philosophers associated with Columbia at mid century.

The cardinal thesis of contextual naturalism is "the essentially incomplete fundamentally plural character of existence, in which no overarching pattern of development can be discerned, and which qualitative discontinuities and loose conjunctions are as ultimate features as are firm connections and regular cycles of change." (54) This is clearly now an unfashionable, metaphysical doctrine.+ But we can hear in its pluralism echoes in the (dappled world, disunity) commitments of those associated with the Stanford School of the Philosophy of Science.* Since Nagel was Suppes' supervisor the connection is not wholly coincidental. 

The point of calling it 'contextual' is explained by the "emphasis upon the contextual conditions for the occurence and for the manifested properties of everything whatsoever--upon the fact a quality an objective constituent of nature even though its existence depends on the relations in which it stands to other things." (55) This generates an anti-reductionism and a general mistrust of eliminativist strategies. (How this fits with so-called Nagel reduction is not my present concern.)

Now, I noted recently, that Nagel's philosophy of science is not attracted to the idea that science is a means of silencing others in the name of a unified authority. Kuhn's philosophy of science is not just a methodological alternative, but also a political alternative. And while science contains differential expertise and skill, Nagel views it more as an open-ended conversation responsive to criticism and reasons. This point is echoed in American Temper: "involves the continued criticism of its findings in the light of evidence capable of public inspection." And in this sense Nagel views science as a model for democratic society worth having. To what degree the science of our day would still be thought of as such an apt model is worth asking.

Alongside this is a rejection of ethics as a monistic, authoritative discipline imposing normative rules on the rest of us. Rather Nagel views ethics more in the spirit of what is now known as mechanism design. Its task is to find local, temporary ethical solutions to practical problems in light of our plural commitments in "specific environmental contexts." If there is an overarching theme it is the elimination of needless suffering. Obviously this slogan does not settle important questions (whose suffering will count; by whose light needless; and at what cost elimination?, etc.), but it gives the sense of the spirit of the project which is really about the never final organization of energy of men. The liberalism on offer is one with affinity to the New Deal.

We can also see that Nagel's vision for the philosophy of science as a template for a democratic society is itself ground in a pluralist metaphysics in which no single perspective is ultimately privileged. In addition this metaphysics provides a kind of template for society: each individual has objective existence, but is simultaneously socially embedded. 

Given that circumstances are constantly changing this is a philosophy of forever-unfinished-business, self-conscious of the fact that any proposed solution in the moment will seem archaic at a later date. As I wrap up, Nagel's comment on this point is worth quoting: 

contextualistic naturalists exhibit a profound distrust of philosophic systems which attempt to catch once for all the variegated contents of the world in a web of dialectical necessity. They are keenly conscious of the limitations of purely formal analysis even when they engage in it. For they recognize that a logic, no matter how subtle, provides no warrant concerning matters of fact unless it is supported by controlled observation. Indeed, they sometimes show an almost pathological fear that those concerned with formal analysis may be deceived into supposing that nature is as coherently organized and as simple as are their intellectual constructions. (54)

I hope readers have noticed that Nagel calls his own contextual naturalism 'sane and reasonable' and a 'sober' alternative to more fashionable and fanciful philosophies. There is an unapologetic willingness to develop the  apollonian edifices of civilization. But this way of framing it, and the acknowledged pathology -- the fear that controlled technique may facilitate a form of intellectual self-deception --, suggests recognition of the fact that some forces in our environment, including our own impulses, have dionysian roots that may haunt us. Nagel's analytic head is conjoined to the heart of a disciplined romantic.  

Models, Politics, Populations, and Public Science in times of Pandemic (III); on Stegenga and Philosophy of Science

What is the role, if any, of philosophy of science during this pandemic and global lockdown?...So far in the lockdown—May whatever-it-is-today—I am not aware of a systematic piece written by a philosopher of science on the pandemic or the policy response...What’s keeping me up at night, though, is this: should philosophers of science be trying to assess the merits of the various scientific arguments pertaining to SARS-CoV-2 that are now having such profound implications on policy, in a rigorous yet publicly visible manner, at a pace which accords with that of the relevant scientific work? This has been a moment of what we might call ‘fast science’. Ought philosophy of science attempt to engage with, contribute to, and criticize fast science, as it unfolds?

Both the harms (broadly construed) of SARS-CoV-2 and the effectiveness and unintended consequences of the social policies meant to mitigate those harms have been underdetermined by available evidence. At issue are the plurality of epidemiological models generating discordant predictions, the reliability of the various models, the empirical substantiation of model parameters, the evidential basis of the effectiveness of many lockdown strategies, and a complicated intertwining of social values and science. Moreover, stances on the pandemic are, obviously, politicized. The pandemic and global policy response seems, therefore, apt for analysis from the perspective of philosophy of science.

...The relevant scientific issues require technical expertise in epidemiology and economics, and up-to-date knowledge of a rapidly shifting epistemic landscape. A meta-level operative principle for any commentator on the pandemic ought to be epistemic humility, especially given the secondary pandemic of over-confidence among policymakers, armchair epidemiologists, and the scientists themselves. Moreover, because positions on the pandemic are often politicized, a philosopher of science who defends the Swedish approach (for example) might be assumed to have values and motivations aligned with, say, Trump supporters.

That said, our colleagues in philosophy of science include experts on scientific models, on methodological problems in medical science, on causal inference, on the relationship between science and values, on inductive risk, and on many other issues pertinent to the pandemic and policy response. Obviously, the stakes are high: some models are telling us that millions of people might die from the virus, while other models are telling us that millions of children might starve as a result of the global lockdowns. Should we be using our expertise to assess these scientific arguments as they unfold? There is a temporal dimension to my question....I am asking if we should be assessing the particular details and predictions of these models, now, and how they are being deployed in policy, today, in a manner that, to the extent possible, reflects the manner of presentation of the pertinent scientific arguments (namely, the speed of their articulation, their visibility, and their impact). Should philosophy of science engage with fast science?

...

So much science having so much impact, yet philosophers of science have been relatively quiet.....

In an email, Nancy Cartwright agreed that philosophers can and should weigh in on serious scientific and policy issues, though she noted that her own skills are at a meta-level rather than assessing particular data and models—I reckon that this is a diagnosis for many of us.  Jay Odenbaugh raised a number of such meta-level questions about models that are especially salient in the present context and that are worth quoting in full:

When should policymakers ignore models and when should they use them for policy guidance? What are good rules of thumb for critically thinking about models for laypeople? Do we need models for policy or can we simply get by with observational studies? How should we determine who is a good or bad modeller? How do epidemiological models compare to other types of models in other domains?

Although persuasive answers to these questions might require the sort of slow, meta-level scholarship that our discipline is accustomed to, such answers might better prepare our discipline for more rapid and impactful engagement in future episodes of fast science, which could emerge from all sorts of phenomena, such as a climate crisis, advances in artificial intelligence, or indeed, another virus.--Jacob Stegenga  "Fast Science and the Philosophy of Science"at Auxiliary Hypothesis BJPS & Dailynous

Today is the third in a series of posts (see the first here inspired by Phillipe Lempoine; and the second here). 

In his essay quoted above, which summarizes and expands on a lively facebook discussion among philosophers of science, Stegenga, distinguishes (implicitly) between fast science and slow science. He implies that slow science is the norm and fast science is the exception due to the (exceptional) "current crisis." He does not define either, but let's assume we understand what he means and accept the distinction. It is worth noting that some of the reasons given by philosophers of science why they might not have anything to contribute to the public debates over unfolding fast science have nothing to do with the fact that it is 'fast', but rather that it is policy apt. So, within the philosophy of science there is a further divide if not in kind then at least in degree between, let's call it, pure science and policy apt science (not to be confused with 'applied' science). 

Much of philosophy of science and the ruling norms within it is still shaped by the dominance of physics, math, and logic in the philosophical imagination. Of course, biology and cognitive science are huge fields in philosophy of science, but when these are studied by philosophers of science, they are not, in the first, instance treated as policy apt. Yes, philosophers of science who work on medicine, economics, engineering, and (say) decision theory, are much more aware that the sciences they study are themselves organized around epistemic norms pertaining to application and practices of justification that presuppose uptake. Even so, I cannot tell you how often, say, decision theorists will balk at the thought that how the formal apparatus is regularly applied is a legitimate form of criticism against the epistemic status of the machinery. (That's 'misuse' and so irrelevant, etc.) I mention this to suggest that thinking about uptake does not come naturally to bread and butter philosophers of science who often pay lip-service to this fact in grant applications and social media presence, but don't internalize it in their work and mutual evaluation.

Of course, the previous sentence is an exaggeration. Thanks to Heather Douglas there is a lively discussion about inductive risk in philosophy of science, and one can now assume knowledge of the concerns and arguments of feminist philosophers of science, which was not common when I was a PhD student a generation or so. Even so, it is no surprise that Eric Winsberg (who has done important work in climate science) and Alex Broadbent (who has done important work on epidemiology) have been so visible as philosophers of science. They have cut their teeth thinking, in part, about the complexities of science in public policy.* Okay, with that in place I want to offer four mutually supporting, but distinct claims.

First, the question philosophers of science should be asking is [A] how should we think about the intersection between fast and policy apt science in a crisis? It strikes me what's clearly needed is real philosophical work on that. One way to assimilate that question to familiar philosophy of science  is to think about that intersection in terms of the combination of scientific norms of controversy and inductive risk (or what in my own work I call 'responsible speech'). It is well understood since Kuhn, that the range of disagreement is constrained in scientific practice. In many ways fast, policy apt science during a crisis has features that are related to the turbulence characteristic of a possible paradigm shift and the intense disagreement familiar from a pre-paradigmatic stage. But in a crisis, these very familiar features play out with possible uptake, mediated by what Polanyi calls 'influentials' and I call 'aggregators,' in policy.

Second, in a policy apt context one can never assume what one may call a free market in ideas, or perfect communicative rationality, which is nearly always tacitly assumed by philosophers of science when discussing scientific controversy. By this I am not pointing to the barriers of entry of who counts as a relevant expert or who has access to the expensive machines. But rather that in in policy apt contexts two features tend to be structurally present: (i) some of the experts are not free to judge or free to say what they think even though they have highly salient expertise. Government scientists may well have gag orders of various kinds. This need not always be sinister--for coordination purposes, it may well be very important that government has a clear message. This is why, for example, Eric Winsberg and I noted that one should be alert to manufactured consensus. (Of course, philosophers of science should model under what conditions a unified flawed message is to be preferred over more noisy signal!) (ii) Governments always have an incentive to withhold inconvenient facts or to nudge scientists in a certain direction. So, what we really should be asking is [B] how should we think about the intersection between fast and policy apt science in a crisis with imperfect communicative rationality.

Third, the way the modern academy is organized is to incentivize and reward hyper-specialization (that is, creating barriers of entry of various kinds).  In one sense philosophy of science is no exception: our work often maps on to particular sub-disciplines in special sciences. But simultaneously, many sciences draw on generic methods and practices common to many sciences. In virtue of the foundational questions we are often free to pursue, philosophers of science often build up non-domain specific expertise about the strengths and weaknesses and features of these generic methods that can surpasse experts within a special  science. Of course, such generic knowledge is not limited to philosophers (e.g., statisticians, computer scientists, etc.) But it's the presence of such domain invariant expertise about generic instruments of science that I have claimed that synthetic philosophy is possible.

Of course, what is characteristic of the present crisis, is that we see the intermingling not just of fast and policy apt sciences, but also many policy questions that have not yet been so defined that they are what I call constrained choice. That is (to simplify) that the relevant issues have been internalized in one science and can be formulated as one kind of policy decision. Rather, the crisis is characterized by evolving recognition that many different kinds of sciences, many different kinds of policies, can have many complex social effects (psychological well-being, rates of hospitalization on incidence of non Covid-19 diseases, supply-chain limitations, public transit and social distancing, etc., etc.). I have suggested that this requires something I have called 'policy apt synthetic philosophy.' So, the question we should ask is  [c] how should policy apt synthetic philosophers of science think about the intersection among many fast and policy apt science in a crisis with imperfect communicative rationality. 

Fourth, policy apt synthetic philosophy is now housed in attenuated fashion in departments of scientific policy/advice that help coordinate decisions that involve multiple sciences and policy domains. There is a need for a class of individuals that study versions of [A; B; & C] alongside the principles of such policy coordination that are not government officials so that they can contribute alongside the scientific aggregators to public discussion in independent fashion. But what this also points to is the need for a more collaborative ethic within philosophy [of science] along the model of what I once dubbed (recall) integrated PPE (Philosophy, Politics, Economics).+ This last point suggests that some of the infrastructure for policy apt synthetic philosophy is already developing, but let me stop here, today.

On Polanyi, Spontaneous Order (yes, Hayek and Kuhn)

The next example of dynamic order will be our main subject, Science. Every scientist in search of discovery is faced with the scientific results and opinions of all other scientists up to that date, both living and dead, which are summed up in text books or-for more recent work-in current publications and public discussions. The scientist differs from the judge in that he is not given his case to decide, but has to select his own problem for investigation. Early in life he specialises on certain branches of science which fit his own personal gifts and his own strongest inclinations. Then he looks out for an opportunity to apply his particular knowledge and gifts; and finally he selects a special problem by the pursuit of which he expects to achieve the most important results. In the setting of his problem and in the way he seeks its solution, he is applying the traditional methods of science and the particular procedure of his own branch: with such possible modifications as he may desire to attempt. His judgment, through which his results are expressed, is based on accepted scientific standards of reliability and precision: again, possibly, with some personal variation of his own. Discovery in the end will be largely based on thousands of previous discoveries; and though the new addition will always modify the previously prevailing ideas to some extent, and sometimes may cause revolutionary changes in outlook, the essential unity of science will be maintained. Scientific discoveries are published without delay, since each scientist desires to get the credit for his own achievements. Discoverers will often defend their claims emphatically against criticism and seek to assure their acceptance by the scientific public.

Science is thus seen to be growing by the characteristic process producing dynamic order. New scientific claims are made in due consideration of all previously established ones; and the results thus obtained continuously modify the previously achieved positions of science.

In the way a scientist, intent on a problem, consults the results and opinions of scientists who worked before him, he resembles a judge referring to precedent. But in the way in which he looks out for a problem to which to apply his special gifts to the best advantage, and later, when discovery is achieved, puts his claims before his colleagues and tries to gain their acceptance for them, he acts rather like the business man, first seeking the most profitable application of his resources and then soliciting the consumers' approval for his goods. We see here a variation in the nature of the methods of adjustment ("internal forces") that are operating in the formation of the dynamic order. Between different judges the adjustments are of a purely consultative character; between business men they are largely competitive ; while between scientists they show combinations of both types.--Michael Polanyi (1941) "The Growth of Thought in Society, "Economica, 8(32): 437.

When I was a PhD student, Mary Jo Nye visited and emphasized the significance of Michael Polanyi. I dutifully read Personal Knowledge, and found it useful to refer to his account of the role of passions in science. But suggestible as I am, I know how the sociological winds blow in analytic philosophy; I am not the first to notice (cf. Stephen Turner) that when the big guns of contemporary analytic philosophy went after know how, Polanyi's account and examples of tacit knowledge simply got ignored

The context of the quoted passage is Polanyi's attempt to graft on the "spontaneous ordering" (432) of "mutually adjusting units" (in context he is appealing to molecules in equilibrium) a description of a "kind of liberty that goes far beyond the claims of personal freedom." (438) The point is that "individuals, participating in the building up of a dynamic order, all act independently," in light of their own judgment. This judgment is not in the service of "the satisfaction of the desire to be left alone, or to do as you please" but rather ""to make discoveries that are important in science-as important as possible....[and to] see these discoveries accepted by science and credited to himself." (445) From this motive they serve the collective endeavor of science. This understanding of freedom Polanyi calls "public liberty." (438) Such public liberty is according to Polanyi constrained by one's own convictions and the judgment of others, and social "incentives" (444).

As an aside, Polanyi uses the reality of simultaneous discovery in science as an illustration of the existence of shared incentives and judgments and to downplay the influence of individual idiosyncrasy (445). This is a bit peculiar because he also treats individual conviction as a necessary feature of the efficiency of science; it's individuality that allows the possible search space to be explored (see Logic of Liberty, p. 34).* 

Be that as it may, the two main examples of a spontaneous or dynamic order Polanyi develops at any length are science and law. But he is quit explicit there "exist many other systems in the intellectual and moral sphere" that blend cognitive and normative features, including the economy. It is well known (see Caldwell) that these remarks appealed to Hayek. And I am not the first to wonder how much Polanyi shaped Kuhn's ideas. What I didn't previously appreciate is that Polanyi develops these ideas in order to combat both communist and fascist conceptions of science which presuppose social (including democratic) control of science. For me, at least, this makes more intelligible the idea that the initial reception of Kuhn was, in fact, facilitated by the cold war context.

I want to close with two observations. First, Polanyi treats the existence of Knightian uncertainty as real and as a ground to doubt the possibility of planning of science: "The main difficulty in handling men according to a pre-arranged plan lies in the fact that the outcome of human endeavour is mostly uncertain and is often worth while only to the extent to which it is uncertain." (433) It is notable that Polanyi treats the very worth of agency as presupposing uncertainty.

Second, I find it amusing that the image of science (recall) that Polanyi presents is itself grounded in a system studied by science. There is, thus, a fractal like quality to his thought.

Philosophy of Science in The Nobel Prize (Economics) Lecture by Stigler

I propose on this occasion to address the same kinds of questions to an entirely different market: the market for new ideas in economic science. Most economists enter this market in new ideas, let me emphasize, in order to obtain ideas and methods for the applications they are making of economics to the thousand problems with which they are occupied: these economists are not the suppliers of new ideas but only demanders. Their problem is comparable to that of the automobile buyer: to find a reliable vehicle. Indeed, they usually end up by buying a used, and therefore tested, idea.--George Stigler (1982)  Nobel Lecture (Economics), Stockholm.

As regular readers know, the Nobel (Chicago-economist), George J. Stigler, had a lifelong interest in the philosophy, and sociology of science. I have remarked in the past that this interest was not entirely disinterested; it's clear that Stigler's work also aimed at influencing the discipline (for example, encouraging consensus-aiming practices that would allow one to ignore criticisms) and I have argued here that he was rather successful at doing so and so is worth paying attention to how philosophical ideas shape scientific practice.

Somewhat surprisingly and unusually Stigler chose to structure his prize lecture around his interest in the sociology/philosophy of economics. I call it unusual because he won the prize for his "seminal studies of industrial structures, functioning of markets and causes and effects of public regulation," and ordinarily the Nobel lecture is an elegant discussion of and introduction into the material that generated professional recognition often  accompanied with polite recognition of folk who did not get the prize, but paved the way to it. Stigler deviates from the precedent. It's not that he does not discuss these topics at all -- and one could argue that he is discussing the functioning of the markets in ideas -- , but they are all framed by his sociological interests in science. These interests are long-standing, and they were shaped not just by his teacher, Knight, but also his encounters with Merton (a colleague at Columbia) and Talcott Parsons (probably a colleague at Stanford), and his early readings of Kuhn. 

As an aside, Stigler was a world-class historian of economics, even long after that had become professionally non-fashionable. This lack of fashion was itself a consequence, in part, because he would (while echoing Kuhn) tell folk that a sign of scientific maturity was that disciplinary history became of little interest to the puzzle solving economists (thus providing justification for the elimination of history of economics from graduate curricula).

In fact, the previous paragraph is not really an aside. The Nobel lecture relies explicitly on [A] a distinction "between prescientific and scientific stages of a discipline." (This is quoted from the abstract.) It also relies (more implicitly) on a [B] distinction between those (the few) that supply "new ideas" -- akin to Kuhnian legislators --  and those ("most") that "demand" ideas to be applied to the determinate problems with which they are occupied (the Kuhnian worker-bees, or puzzle-solvers). (The quoted material is the second paragraph of the lecture.)

It turns out however that the few are, from Stigler's perspective, unusual characters, I quote the relevant paragraph before I comment:

Those economists who seek to engage in research on the new ideas of the science to refute or confirm or develop or displace them are in a sense both buyers and sellers of new ideas. They seek to develop new ideas and persuade the science to accept them, but they also are following clues and promises and explorations in the current or preceding ideas of the science. It is very costly to enter this market: it takes a good deal of time and thought to explore a new idea far enough to discover its promise or its lack of promise. The history of economics, and I assume of every science, is strewn with costly errors: of ideas, so to speak, that wouldn't run far or carry many passengers (530)

Kuhnian legislators have two roles: being [C] developers of new ideas and, unless they have disciples willing to do the work, [D] persuaders of others to accept them. [D] means there is a need for scientific entrepreneurs and the art of rhetoric in science. It turns out that [E] there are high barriers to entry to become a Kuhnian legislator both because (i) it requires a lot of effort and time to be on top of existing science and develop new ideas, as well as (ii) the risks involved of producing ideas that do not pan out. Some of the costs involved, are (iii) investments in prior social infrastructure of science ("the machinery of intellectual exchange-journals, learned societies, and conferences"(535)) that make a "large expenditure of time, intelligence, and research resources" possible (536). Notice that such ideas may well be true, but if there is no uptake (recall [D]) and so no "prestige, reputation, and income" (530) worth having, then this, too, will be treated as failure.*

Famously, Kuhn divides the immature and mature stage of science in terms of consensus or lack thereof. Stigler had used such a measure, too, in the past. But in the Nobel lecture he offers a different criterion: the pre-scientific stage "is characterized by absence of a set of interacting practitioners who are devoting a large part of their lives to the accumulation of knowledge, and hence it is characterized by the absence of cumulative progress." (530) There are really two claims here: [F] in the scientific stage a science is progressing. More important, [G] a science is characterized by the presence of practitioners who (i) recognize each other as fellow travelers/scientists, who (ii) are professionals (in the sense that science is their main occupation), and (iii) who form a communicative community. It's not always clear if he thinks whether [G] causes [F] or [G] is a symptom of [F.]

One interesting feature of the absence of progress and lack of a scientific community in the pre-scientific stage that Stigler notes is that descriptions of it often (a) "almost totally lack a time dimension." In pre-scientific stages it makes little difference in what order doctrines are discussed. An interesting feature of the presence of a scientific community is that (b) detected errors will be refuted, and "only the detected errors of unimportant economists are spared a prompt reputation." (531)

Another criterion he offers between the pre-scientific and scientific eras, is that in the pre-scientific era the problems of a would-be-science are shaped by the (often practical needs of the) environment. While Stigler does not deny that "new circumstances" (political and technological changes) can spur interest in some questions and even innovation, but at bottom his view is that "an empirical science such as economics is to provide general understanding of events in the real world, and ultimately all of its theories and techniques must be instrumental to that task. That is very different from saying, however, that it must be responsive to the contemporaneous conditions and problems of the society in which it is situated." That is, Stigler [H] denies what in earlier work he had called “environmental theory.” And, in fact, it is accompanied by a further claim  that [I] "A science requires for its very existence a set of fundamental and durable problems." (534) One may say that these problems are part of the identity conditions of the science and the ones that Kuhnian legislators help illuminate.+ But in the moment it's very difficult to distinguish between fruitful ideas and dead-ends. And this means [J] that all sciences will be subject to fashions that after the fact prove illusory in fruitfulness.

Because Stigler treats mature science as a fairly efficient communicative community, the [K] new ideas that will prove to be fruitful must in some sense be a natural and small enough, discrete extension from existing practices ("science also progresses through time without making large jumps" with an explicit nod to Darwin's Natura non facit saltus. ) This commitment follows quite naturally from the way demand in economics is conceived. For [L] any idea to have uptake it most (and Stigler credits his Chicago colleague,  Gary Becker) be deploy-able by applied practitioners (who have specific human capital) with little extra cost and more potential reward (and who are risk averse). It also follows that given the structure  of the market of economic ideas that there is a bias against novelty from the majority because their "capital would be reduced if [their] knowledge were made obsolete by the general acceptance of a new theory. Hence, established scholars should, in their own self-interest, attack new theories." (538) That is to say, [M] there is considerable status quo bias in any scientific discipline that also (and Stigler does not point this out) helps stabilize the boundaries and the identity conditions of the discipline.

In fact, [N] often novel ideas will be subject to controversy, although Stigler points to the uptake of his own work in the economics of information as an exception (there was little controversy). Stigler thinks this was due to the fact that "no established scientific theory was being challenged by this work." (539) So there are for Stigler [O] two kinds of new ideas: those that extend a theory or apply a known tool in a new area (relatively little controversy) and those that challenge existing practices. The latter can form the basis of a true challenge to the status quo [P], "it takes a theory to beat a theory." But Stigler admits that [Q] a true test is rare because it is rare that "a theory in economics has a well-defined domain of applicability." (542) Instead theories are tested indirectly for "fertility,"  by deploying them to "explore a variety of problems." Such [R] indirect tests take time and a theory can linger for a long time before it is ultimately discarded.

Stigler explicitly recognizes that there may be more other interesting factors. But we can treat [A]-[R] as the main factors of Stigler's public choice model of science. (He credits Downs, Buchanan, and Tullock, but seems to have been unaware of Tullock's The Organization of Inquiry, which (recall) anticipates many of his own views.

Because I have gone on too long for a blog post, I will not offer critical commentary today. I just note one final feature of Stigler's philosophy of science. For, Stigler, thus [Q] a science is characterized by fundamental Knightian uncertainty about its own development ("No one can describe the precise characteristics or content of a new piece of scientific work that will find ready and eager reception from the scientists of a period." (538))** This commitment to Knight's ideas is especially notable because he rejects the thought (which he explicitly associates with his teacher Knight) that the subjects studied by economists are mistake prone and do not grasp the effects of their policy choices (recall also my treatment of his Tanner lectures).