Freedom of Science in America

by JAMES R. NEWMAN and BYRON S. MILLER

THERE is little real understanding, among the American public, of the true nature of scientific work and scientific progress. There is small conception of the organic nature of science, its complex interrelations and unpredictable cross-fertilizations; little idea of the toil, devotion, patience, and coöperation required of scientists, of the enormous numbers of unrecorded failures that precede almost every success.

There is no appreciation of the fact that the great epoch-making developments in science have more often than not been achieved by the use of equipment no more intricate and expensive than pencil and paper, and that when first made these discoveries had no apparent practical value. There is no realization that science is an essential human activity, depending on communal effort and support, and that it is as much shaped by social and economic circumstances as it, in turn, is a force for social and economic change. And there is a remarkable poverty of literature that deals critically and analytically with the organization of scientific research — its strengths and weaknesses, the interests that control it, the purpose it serves, the problems that beset, it, the accomplishments of which it might ultimately be capable.

The popular attitude toward science in the United States is a mixture compounded of superstition, awe, and vulgar delight in the gadgets it is assumed to proliferate. In this general mentality a quaint folklore has flourished: science wears a white coat and is dedicated to the service of humanity; it has enriched and lengthened life; it has a motive power of its own that is perpetual — once started, it will go on forever without halt.

This idea is closely related to the conception that scientific genius is solitary and requires no nurture. In the public mind are images of the Wright brothers at work in their bicycle shop contriving the first flying machine, and of Edison plumbing the mysteries of electricity with a few magnets and some pieces of wire. The ability of the images to exist comfortably side by side with the reality of the gigantic research laboratories of such firms as Westinghouse, General Electric, and Du Pont would be incredible were it not for the fact that the public imagination has so convincingly and so often demonstrated its flexibility in the past.

The folklore of science in the United States is, in fact, part and parcel of the general folklore of capitalism. The “little businessman” has his counterpart in the “little inventor.” All this, of course, is to say that science in our society has been a part altogether consistent with the whole.

Government in research

Before the war, the total expenditure on scientific research from all sources in the United States was between 300 million and 400 million dollars per year, of which about one sixth was provided by the government and one sixth by universities and research foundations. By supplying two thirds of the total funds expended, private industry was able to dominate the field, determining the emphasis and direction of research.

The participation of the Federal government in scientific research had gradually increased over many years until by 1938 it accounted for approximately one sixth of the total sum spent in financing such activity. It sponsored, or itself conducted, research in a number of fields — agriculture, the physical sciences, public health, and meteorology being among the most important. By 1939 there were no fewer than forty scientific agencies established within the Federal government.

Apart from the war and post-war period, the participation of the Federal government has been limited; and at no time has the government formulated an over-all policy designed to further scientific research in the public interest. Describing the role of the Federal government in research, Dr. Vannevar Bush writes in his 1945 report to the President, Science, the Endless Frontier: “Much of the scientific research done by government agencies is intermediate in character between the two types of work commonly referred to as basic and applied research. Almost all government scientific work has ultimately practical objectives. But in many fields of broad national concern, it commonly involves long-term investigations of a fundamental nature. Generally speaking, the scientific agencies of government are not so concerned with the immediate practical objectives as are the laboratories of industry, nor, on the other hand, are they as free to explore any natural phenomena without regard to possible economic applications as are the educational and private research institutions. . . . We have no national policy for science. . . . We are entering a period when science needs and deserves increased support from the public funds.”

Congress was so impressed with the results of its wartime investment in research that it considered measures which would correct these deficiencies and guarantee to the nation that its scientific skills would continue to be effectively utilized both in providing for the common defense and in promoting the general welfare. President Truman, in his message of September 6, 1945, strongly urged upon Congress the enactment of legislation that would permit the utilization of the resources of the Federal government in furthering scientific research.

Distortion of emphasis

Of the amounts expended by industry for research, only an infinitesimal fraction has been spent on anything other than projects that were expected to show a prompt and satisfactory profit for the firm conducting them. This emphasis on quick private profits as a precondition to scientific research has resulted in inadequate attention to basic research, and in concentration on applications of less value to the public.

These deficiencies are no doubt due in part to our inherent pragmatism, coupled with a degree of short-sightedness that is unable to perceive the ultimate practical value of work that may be long in fruition. As a people, we insist on prompt results, and the theoretical and speculative have always seemed antipathetic to our character. These are probably the underlying and determining factors, but sufficient cause can be found in the methods of financing scientific research. As befits a characteristic element in our society, scientific research must hold forth the prospect of quick cash dividends on the investment — in which event it is financed by industry — or it must exist on alms alone.

To be sure, some of our largest corporations have come to recognize the seminal nature of discoveries growing out of basic research and to make provision for such activity, but the amount of financial support that basic research receives from this source is decidedly limited. Though a particular discovery in basic research may result ultimately in the creation of millions of dollars of wealth, it is difficult to restrict potential profits to a particular firm, and from the point of view of possible economic returns, such projects must be regarded as excessively longterm and highly speculative.

The distortion of emphasis has had one further unfortunate effect. No branch of science is a separate, independent entity, and neglect on the part of any one branch retards the development of all science. Repeatedly, an advance in one scientific discipline has affected another branch apparently wholly unrelated. As science grows increasingly complex its structure comes to resemble a gigantic telephone exchange: behind the orderly array of switchboards and panels is an intricate network of circuits and intertwining strands of communicating wire, each strand distinct and separate in function, yet related to all the others. One of the principal means of advancing science is finding the strands that link physics and chemistry, chemistry and biology, biology and the social sciences, the social sciences and psychology.

Federal research has not supplied a well-balanced emphasis. The enormous wartime expansion of Federally financed research was, of course, for military purposes. In the five fiscal years of the defense war period, nearly two billion dollars was spent on government research. This included three quarters of a billion by the War Department, and roughly one third of a billion each by the Navy and the Office of Scientific Research and Development. In the fiscal year 1947 the sum spent for research and development by the government reached the fabulous figure of $1,613,000,000, of which the War and Navy Departments controlled approximately 85 per cent.

In contrast to the lavish expenditure for defense, consider the sums available for research in medicine — also a matter of fundamental concern to the nation. Our fatal casualties during the war were about 300,000. Our research investment on military weapons amounted to approximately $600 for each life lost. Every year, deaths from heart disease amount to about 500,000 — a number substantially in excess of our war fatalities. Yet the annual research budget for heart diseases has been at the rate of 17 cents per death. Kidney diseases killed more than 100,000 people in 1940; research expenditures in this field amounted to about 38 cents per death. By these inadequate standards, the $2.15 per death devoted to cancer research annually seems generous in the extreme.

Research expenditures on agriculture have been lavish when compared with the budget of medical research, and yet, judged by the wealth such research has contributed to the community, the amount involved is negligible. With the sum spent in one year on advertising the infinitesimal differences that distinguish certain brands of cigarettes from certain other essentially similar brands, agricultural research would undoubtedly add tens of millions of dollars to the national wealth. The 16billion-dollar military budget for the single fiscal year 1947 greatly exceeds the expenditure on all research in all fields since the founding of the United States.

In the main, it is clear that research, whether basic or applied, has suffered wherever it has not promised immediate financial returns to private enterprise or direct military returns to the Federal government. As a consequence, all science has suffered.

Weakness in basic research

Almost all basic research before the war was conducted by universities and research foundations. But the amount spent by such institutions on research activities amounted to only about one sixth of the total funds spent. Nevertheless, for practical purposes these institutions may be regarded as the sole American source of discoveries in basic research upon which we relied very heavily. Research of this nature was done in Germany with the support of the German government.

The comparative poverty of basic research in the United States is made painfully clear by testimony of distinguished scientists before the Senate Subcommittee on War Mobilization. The following trenchant observations are taken from the testimony of Dr. Harlow Shapley: “It should be somewhat humiliating to us to realize that the revolutionary sulfa drugs had their beginning in German research laboratories; that atom-splitting was discovered in Berlin; that the basic pioneer work that has led to radio and radar and the enormous American electronic industries was that of a German professor. Penicillin came from England; DDT from Germany and Switzerland. . . . Hereafter we must rely on ourselves for basic research.”

Dr. Harold C. Urey in his testimony gave statistics showing the number of Nobel Prize winners in the United States and in Europe. Since the inception of the award, 37 prizes in chemistry have gone to Europeans, of whom 15 were Germans, and 6 have gone to Americans. In physics 39 prizes have been given, of which 12 went to Germans and 8 to Americans. In medicine and physiology 37 prizes have been given, of which 9 went to Germans and 6 to Americans. Dr. Urey observed: “The relatively small number of Nobel Prizes awarded to United States citizens indicates the weakness of this country in pure science and also, by contrast, its great strength in industrial development. We have improved our scientific position during the past 25 years but through all our history we have drawn on Europe for fundamental science. Our technical and industrial developments are the offspring of this important fundamental science. . . . The great advance in technology comes only as a result of work in pure science in which the primary objective is an understanding of the fundamental laws of natural phenomena. At no time from the discovery of radioactivity in 1896 until about 1938, could anyone have asked specifically for the development of atomic energy into atomic bombs or power plants. Through all these years it was only the desire of scientists to understand natural phenomena which finally brought us to the stage where such development could go forward.... If I were speaking in Europe, I would advise a committee such as this to put first emphasis on industrial application.... I wish to advise that [our] first emphasis be given to fundamental science.”

Our underpaid research workers

For all the esteem in which science—at least in its practical applications — is held in the United States, its pursuit is an economically precarious undertaking. This statement may appear to be exaggerated. Is not science the leading discipline of many universities, and do these institutions not possess great laboratories? Are there not research foundations that spend millions on research each year? Is not industrial expenditure on research in the United States higher than anywhere else in the world and steadily rising? Isn’t the Federal government spending hundreds of millions of dollars this year on research and development?

These questions must all be answered in the affirmative. Unfortunately, however, this series of affirmations does not add up to the general proposition that our scientific research is adequately and wisely financed in all its aspects.

Scientists in academic institutions are poorly paid and research workers as a class are miserably compensated. The difficulties in the path of the young scientist in this country who wishes to follow a course of independent research are numerous and acute. He must wangle a university appointment or a research grant, neither of which achievements is necessarily intimately related to his scientific accomplishments. The number of aspiring scientists is large compared with the number of academic appointments and research grants. The consequence is that after a year or two of effort many young scientists gladly exchange their prospects for achievement in the realm of pure science for the security offered by a post in industry.

The war occasioned a serious interruption in scientific training both in educational institutions and in basic research laboratories. Young scientists and scientific students were drained off into the armed forces or into applied research for industry or the government as a part of the war effort. The gap in the ranks of scientists resulting from the war recruitment policies of the government will not be closed for years to come.

Large research expenditures by the Federal government, in the absence of a coördinated program, have accentuated the shortage by depleting scientific faculties in the universities. The existence of this problem has been recognized by the President in Executive Order 9791, which directs that a study be made of the government’s research program in relation to available scientific personnel and the training of new scientists. Until a balanced program is established, however, it is clear that scientific education will be seriously handicapped, since never before has so much money been available for direct research, never before has there been so feverish a competition for skilled personnel — a competition in which universities must inevitably come off second best so long as they are forced (o apply the niggardly salary scales that are standard in American educational practice.

Planning and f reedom

The establishment of a satisfactory system of financing will fall far short of its objective unless it is part of a comprehensive policy for placing science in the most effective position in our social, economic, and political system. Research, in other words, needs more than sound financing. Scientific activities must be planned and coordinated to assure their continuing vigorous contribution to human welfare. But while science is popular, a government policy that entails “organization,” “planning,” and “coordination,” especially when it touches on private activities, is not. In the minds of many these concepts are linked with various odious political philosophies judged to be altogether inconsistent with the American way of life. “ Planning,” they hold, violates the “freedom” of science.

There is no occasion here to do more than refer to the curious distortion that the concept of freedom has undergone in the United States. The utter illogic of identifying freedom with a complete absence of political controls over economy has been sufficiently commented upon during the past decade, as has the curious fact that the most vocal opponents of efforts of the state to bring some degree of order and social justice into the operation of the economic system were the individuals most actively engaged in reducing larger and larger areas of the economy to organization and control through the device of the corporation and the holding company.

It is perhaps not so generally realized that tin almost identical situation exists in the field of science. Here the fraud has been more decently concealed, both because the aura of sanctity and mystery that surrounds science has been more difficult to penetrate and because there has been little to stimulate the prying of the irreverent. In the concept of freedom of science, we see the joining of the profit motive with an almost religious veneration for truth — an abstraction that in this field it is assumed can be served only by the efforts of the individual scientist, unregimented, unregulated, uncoördinated, and, presumably, unsubsidized. In this connection we refer to the image already described in our discussion of the folklore of science — the free scientist serving truth, equipped with a vision and the paraphernalia of a bicycle shop.

There are those, of course, among the inveterate opponents of planning, the proponents of “freedom of science,” who would flatly deny that scientific research can be planned at all, or would at least insist that science is most effective when left to follow its own bent with each scientist avidly pursuing truth as he sees it. The fact of the matter is that this principle is hardly applicable to scientific research — at any rate, to research in the twentieth century. Left to the forces of the market place, the research that gets done is for the most part that which promises prompt and satisfactory financial return, and in the operation of this selective process, truth, in the sense of new insights into natural phenomena and processes, is frequently lost altogether. Unsupported, science can summon only a fraction of its full vigor; unorganized, science as a whole remains radically disorganized: in either event, it exerts no more than a fraction of its power in the service of man.

The truth is that not only can research be planned, but, as a matter of fact, it always is planned. The individual worker plans his program: if his work is part of a larger project, it is obviously fitted into the main scheme; if many projects can be coördinated so as to achieve a joint attack on a common problem, great results can be achieved, as we have seen in the case of the atomic bomb.

The really free scientist — in the sense of the individual who frames his own research program with no other consideration than the service of knowledge and carries out this program without hindrance or diversion — does not exist except occasionally as an isolated phenomenon. Scientists as a class do not live on unearned income; they are dependent on what they can make. This being the case, they must work for universities, foundations, or industry. If they work for universities, they will enjoy a relatively wide choice of activities; but this latitude is being progressively narrowed by the practice of universities in undertaking research projects for industry or for the armed services, which commit the services of their staffs.

Those scientists unaffected by this practice will, in any event, live not far from penury and will feel a certain pressure to pursue activities that show quick results in publication, for of such stuff are promotions made. If they apply for a foundation grant, their chance of success will depend, in the first place, on whether their project falls within the general plan of the foundation directors, and their recognition of this fact will in some degree narrow their freedom of choice. The usual grant is for short duration, and during a considerable portion of its closing months the thoughts of the beneficiary will of necessity be occupied with the problem of securing a further means of livelihood. The portals of industry, always wide open to scientists of ability, offer a permanent escape from the nagging problems of economic insecurity and also put a permanent end to the academic question of whether the scientist is really free. This metaphysical problem need never trouble him again; he knows positively that he is paid to order his activities, which in turn are based on a frank assessment of profits, in accord with the plans of the directors.

Subjected to this analysis, the reality of scientific freedom in the United States emerges as something less than a perfect sphere floating in space. It is seen to be relative and conditional and certainly not without plan — the plan of the individual scientist to do a particular piece of research to get a better job; of the university to fulfill a contract and perhaps win an endowment; of the corporation to produce a gadget and make a profit.

The chain of development

The promise of science is boundless. But unlike the promises of the merchant, scientific promises are not payable at a given place or on a stated date; and certainly the promises of science are not payable on demand. Research done in the United States may come to fruit in Denmark. A problem in hydrodynamics solved by an obscure worker in India may result in the invention of a better jet plane in Switzerland. It is both relevant and illuminating to recall the case of atomic energy. The work of Fermi in Italy, of Hahn and Strassmann in Germany, of Rutherford and Chadwick in England, of Becquerel and Curie Joliot in France, of Bohr in Denmark, of Einstein in Switzerland — the work of all these scientists done over a period of half a century and in six European countries — went into the atomic bomb constructed in the United States by an international group of scientists and American engineers. The leading post-war development in atomsmashing devices is the synchrotron, invented simultaneously and independently by Veksler in Russia and McMillan in California.

It happens now and then that research of fundamental significance is completed within a few months, and sometimes practical applications of a new discovery can be perfected within a few years (the winning of atomic energy is a spectacular case in point). But scientific research that shows ultimate results of far-reaching significance often requires extended periods for fruition. One of the most important tools of modern science and an almost indispensable one to nuclear physics is quantum mechanics, which owes its existence to the great work of the Irish mathematician, Sir William Rowan Hamilton, more than a century ago. This is a tenuous and highly fortuitous chain of development and one that no industrial enterprise would undertake to finance. And yet it is not unrepresentative of the manner in which science has achieved some of its greatest triumphs.

If our scientists are to work at maximum effectiveness, they must have full and rapid access to the results of research conducted in this country and abroad. Some of the most notable achievements of science have sprung from sudden, surprising, and unpredictable cross-fertilizations. An idea conceived in France is expanded into a theory in Switzerland, corrected and elaborated by a scientific apparatus designed in England, and brought to practical fulfillment in the United States. This hypothetical sequence is entirely representative of normal developments in the realm of scientific research, and part of the delay in the fruition of scientific discoveries is the period of time required to complete the largely fortuitous series of couplings in the full circuit. The number of scientific papers, digests, reports, and publications increases every year. The last edition of the World List of Scientific Periodicals recorded over 53,000 different titles. Even a scientist working in a highly specialized field faces a gargantuan task in keeping up with the current literature. Yet, if he should fail to keep himself thoroughly informed, he may overlook a fragment of information on which the value of his own work entirely depends.

Communication between scientists cannot be maintained adequately by published papers alone. “Almost every visit of a scientist from one laboratory to his colleagues in another results in the introduction of a new piece of information or point of view that no amount of reading had managed to effect,” writes Bernal. “Partly, of course, this is due to the existing plethora and confusion of publication. But even if this were removed, there would remain techniques which are impossible to transmit without visual demonstration, and ideas too intangible to be put into writing yet capable of communication by personal contact.”

Generally speaking, we should encourage the visits of scientists within our own country from one laboratory to another. We should suggest, and make possible, meetings, seminars, conventions, demonstrations, and similar activities that will bring scientists having mutual interests together. Support of t hese activities, it is hardly necessary to point out, must not be confined to leading scientists, but should be particularly encouraged for the younger men to enable them to enrich their experience. The greatest danger by far in the matter of exchanges between scientists lies in a policy of unreasonable and unreasoned secrecy, a policy that may end by defeating the very purpose it was expected to serve—the maintenance of American leadership in the field of atomic energy.

A National Science Foundation?

During the frenetic closing of the first Republican Congress in sixteen years, there was finally passed the Smith bill establishing a National Science Foundation for the support of research in the physical sciences and in medicine. The Foundation would have furnished grants to universities and private laboratories from funds appropriated by Congress.

President Truman, who has repeatedly urged the establishment of such a Foundation, regretfully vetoed the measure on the grounds that it represented “a marked departure from sound principles for the administration of public affairs” and that it “threatened to impede rather than promote the Government’s efforts to encourage scientific research.”

Administratively the Foundation, with its twentyfour directors (who, in turn, appoint an executive director), is so unwieldy, and lies so far beyond the reach of government control, as to be almost a monstrosity among Federal agencies. Moreover, the Smith bill offers no reforms for the patent practices of the Federal government, severely censured in a massive report recently issued by the Attorney General.

In light of the problems facing American scientists, the creation of a National Science Foundation would be only a gesture in the right direction. No doubt the total sum of money available for research would thereby be increased; but the question of how much money should be spent for research is much less to the point than the questions: —

How is research money to be spent?

How are we to achieve a balanced and planned program for scientific investigations while keeping science free?

What must be done to ensure adequate support for the scientists and laboratories most in need?

We must continue to press for the adoption of a rational and enlightened policy for scientific research, a policy under which science in the service of man can meet the promise only dimly fulfilled in the marvels of technology.

The war, of course, profoundly altered the nature, dimensions, and structure of scientific research in the United States. From 1938 to 1944, Federal research expenditures increased more than tenfold, from 68 million to 706 million dollars per year, while expenditures on private research diminished from nearly 400 million to less than 150 million dollars. The results of this investment of Federal funds for research were impressively recorded in battles fought over the entire world.