154
S. George Philander
several of my contemporaries, including Dennis Moore, Ed Sarachik, Jacques Merle,
and Jay McCreary, suggested? Or are there objective reasons for being concerned
about the activities of oceanographers today?
There are ample reasons for nostalgia about the recent, post-Sputnik past. The
launching of that satellite changed oceanography radically, but not adversely; it proved
a bonanza for science in general, physical oceanography in particular. For a while
scientists had easy access to resources for research, and enjoyed remarkable freedom
to pursue science for the sake of science—science for the sake of understanding natural
phenomena. The problems that oceanographers chose to investigate, related mostly
to oceanic variability, yielded rich rewards. During the early 1990s it became evident
that this exciting period was coming to an end. Three changes were clearly evident.
(i) Oceanography, which used to be “bottom-up,” with scientists identifying problems
to be solved, then organizing and implementing programs to do so, had become
“top-down” with managers and bureaucrats playing far more prominent roles. (ii) The
field had lost some of its cohesion. For example, the perspectives of different groups
on the same phenomenon, El Ni˜ no, became so different that the mere title of a paper
on that topic now indicates whether the author is from Seattle, Los Angeles, or New
York. (iii) Whereas the scientific and social interests of oceanographers used to be
divorced—opposition to the war in Vietnam or apartheid in South Africa did not affect
the choice of research topics—many scientists now want their science to influence
policy.
At first I was unable to articulate why I was uncomfortable with these developments, especially the last one. By chance I came across two authors who provide
valuable insights. One is Derek de Solla Price
1 who describes lucidly what happens
when a “little science” grows into a “Big Science.” (Although his is one of the most
frequently cited books in the field of history and philosophy of science, surprisingly
few scientists know of it.) The other author is the philosopher Isaiah Berlin
2 who
explains eloquently why the profound differences between the worlds of science and
of human affairs can cause the two worlds to be in conflict. A scientist who predicts
El Ni˜ no, for example, should expect other scientists to be skeptical of the results; the
practice of “organized skepticism” is essential for progress in science. On the other
hand, a scientist who tries to persuade government officials that the prediction calls
for the implementation of certain policies, will have no success if he is skeptical of
the forecast. We should at least be aware of such dilemmas when we try to bridge
science and politics. We should also appreciate that an excessive reliance on science in our attempts to deal with the societal aspects of environmental problems can
be counterproductive if not disastrous. This is clearly evident in our attempts to cope
with failures of the Indian monsoons early in the twentieth century.
3
The continually changing social and political environment strongly influences
the activities of scientists. The period from 1957 to 1982, a most unusual one for physical oceanography, was initiated and terminated by the same global political factors.
The exciting period started because of concern that the former Soviet Union could
be scientifically more advanced than the countries of the West. It ended when the
S. George Philander
several of my contemporaries, including Dennis Moore, Ed Sarachik, Jacques Merle,
and Jay McCreary, suggested? Or are there objective reasons for being concerned
about the activities of oceanographers today?
There are ample reasons for nostalgia about the recent, post-Sputnik past. The
launching of that satellite changed oceanography radically, but not adversely; it proved
a bonanza for science in general, physical oceanography in particular. For a while
scientists had easy access to resources for research, and enjoyed remarkable freedom
to pursue science for the sake of science—science for the sake of understanding natural
phenomena. The problems that oceanographers chose to investigate, related mostly
to oceanic variability, yielded rich rewards. During the early 1990s it became evident
that this exciting period was coming to an end. Three changes were clearly evident.
(i) Oceanography, which used to be “bottom-up,” with scientists identifying problems
to be solved, then organizing and implementing programs to do so, had become
“top-down” with managers and bureaucrats playing far more prominent roles. (ii) The
field had lost some of its cohesion. For example, the perspectives of different groups
on the same phenomenon, El Ni˜ no, became so different that the mere title of a paper
on that topic now indicates whether the author is from Seattle, Los Angeles, or New
York. (iii) Whereas the scientific and social interests of oceanographers used to be
divorced—opposition to the war in Vietnam or apartheid in South Africa did not affect
the choice of research topics—many scientists now want their science to influence
policy.
At first I was unable to articulate why I was uncomfortable with these developments, especially the last one. By chance I came across two authors who provide
valuable insights. One is Derek de Solla Price
1 who describes lucidly what happens
when a “little science” grows into a “Big Science.” (Although his is one of the most
frequently cited books in the field of history and philosophy of science, surprisingly
few scientists know of it.) The other author is the philosopher Isaiah Berlin
2 who
explains eloquently why the profound differences between the worlds of science and
of human affairs can cause the two worlds to be in conflict. A scientist who predicts
El Ni˜ no, for example, should expect other scientists to be skeptical of the results; the
practice of “organized skepticism” is essential for progress in science. On the other
hand, a scientist who tries to persuade government officials that the prediction calls
for the implementation of certain policies, will have no success if he is skeptical of
the forecast. We should at least be aware of such dilemmas when we try to bridge
science and politics. We should also appreciate that an excessive reliance on science in our attempts to deal with the societal aspects of environmental problems can
be counterproductive if not disastrous. This is clearly evident in our attempts to cope
with failures of the Indian monsoons early in the twentieth century.
3
The continually changing social and political environment strongly influences
the activities of scientists. The period from 1957 to 1982, a most unusual one for physical oceanography, was initiated and terminated by the same global political factors.
The exciting period started because of concern that the former Soviet Union could
be scientifically more advanced than the countries of the West. It ended when the