It has always been the ideal of science to discover laws of nature on which we can all agree. Agreement requires evidence independent of individual judgment, i.e., objective evidence. We apply the term objective to such unbiased scientific evidence because we associate it with an external world of objects that we conceive to be the origin of our information. This external world is instinctively invented by each of us as a means of dealing with invariant patterns in his private world of experience. The invention is validated and elaborated as a consequence of the fact that it turns out to be sharable. In fact the common content of all our invented external worlds is so unambiguous and independent of individual bias that it can form the universally accepted basis for communication and action in an organized society. The consistency of the patterns of experience associated with the external world is such that we are under severe psychological compulsion to assign to this world an existence independent of our experience and a reality superior to that of any small part of our experience. Physical science is devoted to the study of the “laws” of the external physical universe, i.e., to the behaviour of the objects in it. Hence there is a strong tendency to project into the external world the information gathered by scientifically objective methods and even the theoretical concepts in terms of which the information is interpreted. Whatever is so projected is objective in a second sense of the term, i.e., assigned by us to the external world of objects.

A publication by Professor Margenau is always of interest to persons concerned with philosophy of science. This is especially true, however, of his recently published book, The Nature of Physical Reality; for this book, dealing with basic epistemological problems arising from the development of modern quantum mechanics, is the most comprehensive and most systematic formulation of its author's philosophical position and is at the same time conceived as a “challenge” to “uncritical realism, unadorned operationalism, and radical empiricism”—to points of view, that is, which Professor Margenau regards as “outmoded and in disharmony with the successful phases of contemporary physics” (v).

The device of setting forth an argument in the form of a postulate set, while not unknown to jurisprudence, is nevertheless sufficiently novel to justify a brief account of the process. At one time human thought took axioms and postulates for avowals of unalterable truth, but the nineteenth century made common the practice of speculating with alternative presuppositional systems, so that deeper insight into the nature of this scientific device revealed it as merely a method among many for clarifying and fecundating thought.

The purpose of this paper is to provide a methodological rather than, strictly speaking, a philosophical discussion of its subject, the logic of concept formation in psychology. But even a treatment of this kind cannot entirely avoid matters of a more general nature, some of them logical, some epistemological. By insisting on the limitations of this essay I merely wish to caution the reader in three respects. First, those more general matters, logical and epistemological, will be kept at a minimum. Second, no attempt will be made to state them with the degree of precision and all the qualifications which are in order in a paper that addresses itself exclusively to logical analysts. Third, I shall for the most part content myself with stating them, without defending them in the way and in the sense in which a technical philosopher who speaks to his colleagues must defend what he asserts.

The candid student of scientific method will recognize that biology is not entirely a physical science, while acknowledging that it owes its present state of development largely or mainly to physical conceptions and methods. It is clear that the constant features of vital organization and activity presuppose the physical constancies as basis. Nevertheless the living organism has proved in many ways refractory to a purely physical analysis. This is not merely because the higher organisms have their psychical side and that psychological method differs from physical method; conceivably a properly unified science might apply equally to the physical and the psychical sides of nature. Nor is it entirely because vital behaviour is more individualized and less predictable than physical behaviour. It is rather that certain fundamental features of natural process, largely neglected by physics, are just those which are of chief importance in those flux-like entities which are living organisms. The traditional methods of physics, which analyze nature into combinations of invariant elements and processes, are ill-adapted to deal with the fluid, asymmetrical and largely indeterminate features of process as displayed so conspicuously in living organisms. This, put briefly, is the contention of L. L. Whyte, physicist and author of the recent remarkable book on the relations between physics and biology. In the present paper I propose first to consider especially those sections of the book which bear more particularly on the fundamental problems of biology; this part is paraphrase and commentary rather than summary, although never departing far from the subject of unitary principle as defined by Whyte. Later I shall consider some philosophical implications which seem important. For the details of Whyte's exposition the reader should refer to his book, which is notably clear, concise and critical in style and treatment, as well as comprehensive and fully realistic in its point of view.

Preliminary Remarks: Before entering into the subject matter of the paper, it may be useful to present American readers with a sketchy outline of present-day European philosophy of science, as it appeared to me at the International Congress of Philosophy of Science, held in Paris at the Sorbonne on October 15–22, 1949. The sections of which I can give a first hand impression and which are of particular interest for our subject, are those of physical science and of probability.

A quarter of a century has elapsed since quantum mechanics was discovered. Perhaps it is not too much to say, in retrospect, that the time was ripe for this particular development. This is attested, not only by the speed with which the edifice of the theory was completed immediately following the basic discoveries of Heisenberg and Schrödinger, but also by the rapidity, well-nigh unprecedented in the history of science with which the new results were applied to almost every branch of physics and chemistry. A mental readiness on the part of the scientists involved might have had much more to do with this than the facilities of modern communication systems.

Bertrand Russell, in one of his gentler jibes at the pragmatists, says that this school would obviously prefer Othello, the man of action to Hamlet, the man of thought. This figure is singularly inept since Hamlet brought about the death of six people through violent action. That more than equalled the score rolled up by the presumably more active Othello. What Hamlet lacked was not the power to act but an adequate theory of action. Having first attempted to avoid the issue presented by the murder of his father, he is swept up in a gale of violence because of that very attempt at avoidance.

I should like to begin with a remark which, although personal, is not without relevance both to the special topic of this paper and the general purpose of an International Congress of Philosophy. Having had the opportunity of studying and teaching philosophy in various countries of the Western World I have come to realize strongly the enormous power of national traditions in philosophy. Much more so than scientific research and, I believe, even the arts, our philosophizing is tied down to and captivated by particular spiritual climates, particular national traditions. Notwithstanding the apparatus of international congresses, the various personal and professional contacts between philosophers of different nationality, and the translation of at least the most important works into other languages, there is, I have come to feel, a mutual contempt, a mutual misunderstanding, a mutual intolerance, that are frightening. You will remember Nietzsche's sarcasms concerning English philosophy. I have heard Heidegger say that the only language in which one can really philosophize, besides Greek, is German. The German contempt for French clarity and English factuality is equalled by the irony which French and English philosophers show towards German “depth.” The examples could be multiplied. Scrutinize your university programs and I am convinced you will be startled by the enormous emphasis upon philosophers of your own nationality. I know German Ph.D.s who have never read more than 200 pages of English and French philosophy. Courses in contemporary philosophy give usually 90 percent of their time to the philosophical scene in the particular country to which the teachers belongs and only the small remainder to the international scene.

Certain suggestions recently made by Brunswik (2) concerning the design of experiments in psychology seem to have far reaching implications. Indeed, Brunswik's suggestions appear to the writer to be congruent with Einstein's General Theory of Relativity. Congruences between such diverse disciplines as psychology and physics bear watching if for no other reason than the fact that psychologists frequently point to the physicist as the ideal scientist. Unfortunately, in the writer's opinion, the ideal which the psychologist still admires is the classical, or Newtonian, physicist rather than the modern, or Einsteinian, physicist—the psychologist's outlook being concomitantly distorted. Brunswik's theories of experimental design in psychology, however, are appealing for the very reason that they do not fit the mold of the classical physical experiment, but do seem to be congruent with Einstein's physical theories—with concomitant expansion of scope.

In a paper recently published in this quarterly I argued that modern quantum physics, as an integrated system of laws, supplements and completes in purely quantitative terms the fragmentary order of first-person experience, removing in a unique way ambiguities otherwise encountered at the level of common-sense things; and I contended that the choice of a different selective operator—purpose or value, let us say, rather than quantity—might entail an entirely different range and system of order. It is now my intention to follow up this contention and to indicate at least in outline form some of the implications and possibilities of such a program; for it is possible that this undertaking may bring into new perspective some of the crucial problems which have vexed philosophers at all times when they have dealt with normative propositions and moral judgments.

The two most antagonistic schools in contemporary Western philosophy are Existentialism and Logical Positivism. They have nothing in common but the name of philosophy, and even that they deny each other. There is some kind of discussion going on between even such distant schools as Pragmatism and neo-Thomism; Existentialists and Logical Positivists have nothing but sarcasms for each other. To philosophers familiar only with the Anglo-Saxon scene Existentialism must appear negligible. In the Mediterranean countries, on the other hand, where philosophy is a much more popular pastime, Existentialism has an unparalleled vogue and Logical Positivism is considered a horrible aberration from the naturally speculative course of philosophy. In South America whose philosophical life we are apt to underrate Logical Positivism seems to be known to almost nobody, whereas Existentialism, mostly in its German and anti-religious shape, has become, quite paradoxically, the rallying point of “Liberalism,” liberalism, in Spanish countries, being above all anti-catholicism. Although, ironically enough, both Logical Positivism and modern Existentialism originated in German speaking countries, the split between the two goes vaguely parallel with, and may have found some ready echo in, the different cultural inheritance of the Anglo-Saxon and Latin races. Hence, the subject of this paper would seem far-fetched to those steeped in their own national tradition. There is, however, a growing consciousness of the “one world” function of philosophy, particularly with regard to Eastern and Western philosophy (Northrop, Burtt, Conger, etc.). Would it not be a prerequisite of this more ambitious enterprise to gain a clear conception about the most radical split in our own contemporary Western philosophy, the split between Logical Positivism and Existentialism? This paper is an attempt to establish a perspective permitting a just evaluation of the two philosophies.

If, as may be generally agreed upon, the term science is to be taken to mean verified knowledge, then it has three attributes: (1) the logical and methodological; that is, how we arrive at verified knowledge; (2) the epistemic; that is, the bodies of verified knowledge that have been arrived at; and (3) the sociological; that is, the organization of men by means of which the bodies of knowledge have been arrived at and the method prosecuted.

Among the many dichotomous cleavages among philosophers and theologians few seem to me as questionable as the Procrustean division into supematuralists and naturalists. “Naturalism” and “supernaturalism” have become party labels whose original meanings have been lost in the heat of banner-waving and slogan shouting. Even the great minds of the past, who were innocent as yet of this philosophical two-party system, are being herded into one pen or the other. And apparently few of the penkeepers are aware of the fact, pointed out almost apologetically by Professor Randall, that “the usage is hardly fashionable abroad, even in England.” (39, p. 355) I, for one, confess that, not having been acclimatized in my European cave to this stern disjunction, I have to this day felt rather uneasy, if not evasive, at the outspoken or tacit expectation to line up with one faction or the other, much as my leanings were toward the other rather than toward the one. I therefore decided that some day I had to get to the bottom of this uneasiness.

1. Introduction. The purpose of this paper is to present an initial sociological analysis of science as an institution. This kind of analysis has long been made of other aspects of culture: of the family, the state, religion, economic enterprise and the like. An institution, as the term is used here, is simply

The editor of this Journal has asked me to comment on the preceding paper by Professor Hammond (5) in which certain parallels are drawn between relativity physics and my own suggestions concerning the establishment of “representative design” in psychological experimentation (1). Since I find little basis for criticism of Dr. Hammond's major line of reasoning, I shall concentrate on anticipating possible objections to Hammond's comparison as well as on elucidating my point of view by means of examples, both old and new, that seem pertinent in the present context.

Scholasticism, with its intense rational method and its fervent intellectual spirit, virtually disappeared from the general consideration of Natural Philosophy at the coming of the Reformation and the subsequent Newtonian Revolution. Only in this century has it seemed to merit any reconsideration.

It may be that the overworn analogy between the history of philosophy and a river system has still a value, and if so, it is a value beyond that usually claimed for it. The grosser likenesses between the stream of history and the stream of geography have been, it is true, too often pointed out, while the subtler similarities are neglected. For instance, there are points in both kinds of stream where it runs deep, others where it is shallow; at one point it may run swiftly, as through a gorge, and at another the valley may be wide and the stream broad, and sluggish. However, whereas in the stream of science the running waters often purify themselves, in that of philosophy there are many stagnant pools where the current of criticism has never set in. Further, there are discernible here and there canalizations by which arid plains are artificially irrigated. And it must be admitted that, at other points, outhouses have been built over the stream and its waters sullied.

Those—other social scientists as well as laymen—who have read recent studies of national character and culture by anthropologists, while not having had experience in this field themselves, often seem to believe that the results which such anthropological investigators obtain are interesting, but that the methods used were intuitional, magical, or just invisible. The status of the work is cast in doubt, as falling short of an ideal that scientific description and analysis must be reproducible by any observer to whom a set of techniques of the discipline has been communicated. This paper attempts to show why and how such a belief is erroneous, and then to describe some of the fundamentals of method in current cultural anthropology as used in research and as related to the general structure of scientific method today.