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The Function of Credit in Hull's Evolutionary Model of Science
Noretta Koertge
Indiana University
1. Evolutionary Models and the Demarcation Problem
David Hull's book (1988) provides an evolutionary account of the development of
science which pays attention to both the social and conceptual aspects of that process.
Unlike most philosophers who only invoke Darwinian metaphors in a casual way,
Hull takes the analogy between the biological evolution of species and the growth of
scientific knowledge quite seriously and by providing abstractdefinitions of terms
such as replicator, interactor and lineage, he makes it possible for us to see clearly
the structuralsimilarities between the two historical processes.
Other symposiasts will comment on how tight that analogy really is. I must remark in passing that I have never understood the intense interest which evolutionary
epistemologists take in this comparison. Surely our majorjob is to understandhow
science works, perhaps by using evolutionary theory as a fallible heuristic, but nothing seems to hinge on the extent of the formal analogy. My main concern would be
with the extent to which the evolutionary analogy illuminates what is distinctive about
scientific development as opposed to other branches of intellectual history.
For example, Elaine Pagel's account (1979) of the struggle between the early
Gnostics and what we would now consider the more orthodox variants of Christianity
can be easily cast in quasi-Darwinian terms as follows: In the first few centuries after
the death of Jesus, two importanttheological systems (cf. genotypes) existed. Each
had its own gospels. The four orthodox gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, John) spoke
of the bodily resurrectionof Christ. The gnostic gospels (e.g. those of Mary
Magdalene and Philip) on the other hand, spoke only of spiritualresurrectionand implied that the post-crucifixation sightings of Jesus were really mystical visions, not
observation reports. These two theologies were embodied in and had influence on the
actions of two groups of Christians (cf. phenotypes). The orthodox group were more
successful in gaining converts, not because of any intrinsic theological superiority,but
because their doctrine of apostolic succession (passed down from Peter throughordination) gave their movement more stability. The leadership roles amongst the gnostics were more fluid because they depended on the charismatic and visionary powers
of individuals, qualities which were much more difficult to operationalize. As a re-
PSA 1990, Volume 2, pp. 237-244
Copyright ? 1991 by the Philosophy of Science Association
238
suit, gnostic Christianityliterally went extinct - there were no extant replications of
many of the gnostic gospels until the discovery in 1945 of a bunch of manuscriptsin a
jar in Egypt.
There is an obvious moral to be drawn from this example. The mere fact that certain ideas have survival value does not tell us what those ideas were selected for.
Urban legends or jokes survive because of their entertainmentvalue. Myths survive
because they allay fears and make us feel that we understandthe meaning of life.
There is no reason whatsoever to believe that those ideas which survive provide descriptions which "fit"the naturalworld. Quite the contrary. Soothing belief systems
which are unfalsifiable often manifest an extraordinarydegree of reproductive fitness!
Pagel's story also shows us why it is fruitful to incorporatea rough parallel to the
phenotype/genotype distinction into an evolutionary account of the history of ideas.
Although the gnostic system may have been theologically superior,it lost out to the orthodox system because of the superiorpolitical organizationof the followers of Peter.
I conclude that any adequateevolutionary account of the development of science will
have to include an explicit account of which properties of theoreticalideas (e.g., empirical adequacy) play a crucial role in the process of selection. One also needs to discuss the extent to which scientific institutionsprovide mechanisms which insure that it
is the most meritoriousscientific ideas which in fact survive. What must be added to
the general evolutionary account are the scientific norms which Hull summarizesby
the slogan of Curiosity,Checking, and Credit. Theologians do not, in general, place
high value on any of the three C's. But scientists are carefully trainedto do so and it is
these norms that determinehow the struggle between competing scientific theories is
to be conducted and differentiatethe discussions of the Nobel Prize Committee from
religious discussions about who should or should not be canonized. (I am not denying
that politics plays a role in each, but I do claim that the standardsof appraisaldiffer.)
So I now want to turn away from the Spencerian swamp of evolutionary epistemology and concentrateinstead on what Hull says about the distinctive values and social practices of science, especially what he says about the roles of competition, cooperation and credit in organized science and how they contribute to the growth of scientific knowledge.
2. The Proximate Function of Credit
A significant portionof Hull's book is devoted to a detailed description of the public and private scheming and infighting which went on amongst various schools within
systematic zoology. I read him as making two major claims: (i) Fights over credit
and priority are an integral (maybe even an essential) part of scientific inquiry and (ii)
his evolutionary model can help us understandwhy. I'll discuss these claims in turn.
Many commentatorshave taken note of the virulence of priority disputes and
other forms of striving for recognition in science. Some attempt to explain it as a socially constructedresponse in a capitalist, patriarchalsociety. However, few have
tried to argue that this is a functional aspect of science. Before I read Hull, I think if
someone has asked me about the significance of the emphasis which scientists place
on the ways in which credit is apportionedin science, I might have said something
like the following: The "real"value/purpose of footnotes is to direct the interested
reader to a place where they can get additional information on the subject. Who did
the experiment or formulated the theory is "really"not very important,although it
does provide a way of assigning responsibility for bad work. It is also sometimes importantto know how many different laboratorieshave replicated a particularexperi-
239
ment. As far as credit is concerned, counting citations, etc. is something which only
sociologists, tenure/promotioncommittees, funding panels, and other folks who
haven't time to read the literaturehave any need to do. "Real" scientists are motivated by curiosity and the joy of problem solving; the essential ingredients of a scientific
community are the traditionalMertoniannorms of universalism, disinterestedness,
and communalism. All of this striving for personal recognition is at best peripheralto
the process of science.
As for priority disputes, I would have said that these are the legitimate concerns
only for patent lawyers and hero-worshippinghistorians (still under the spell of romantic theories of genius). A "real"scientist is passionately concerned that the solutions to
importantproblems be found and checked by others, but it can't possibly "really"matter to science whose discovery was first. Maybe sociobiologists can explain why
(male) scientists have so much "paternityanxiety" or worry so much about who was
the first to score the big "breakthrough".All of this is embarrassingnonsense which
may tell us something about the pettiness or immaturityof scientists (which is exacerbated by today's funding squeeze) but has nothing to do with science comme ilfaut.
However, after reading Hull I am preparedto seriously entertain the idea that the
credit practices of scientists cannot be ignored by any adequate theory of science and
that credit does play an importantrole in the furtheringof intellectual progress in science. I may be less optimistic than David, however, about how efficiently our present
credit system functions. And I also think we need to have a good analysis of exactly
how the present reward system benefits science. It is not good enough just to say science is doing pretty well so our present credit system must be O.K.
3. Why Curiosity and Checking Are Not Enough
To begin our analysis of how the reward system of science works, let us do a typical political philosophy thought-experimentin which we start out with isolated individuals and then assemble them into an efficient, scientific community. What new
motivational ingredients would we need to inculcate? What special social norms
would need to emerge? And since we are focusing on credit, let us also assume that
our individual scientists are already well-equipped with curiosity and are already personally intrigued by the various types of problems which trigger scientific inquiry problems arising from violated expectations, unexplained regularities, fragmented
bodies of knowledge, etc. Let us also assume that they already have a propensity to
subject proposals to critical scrutiny and realize that it is a good idea to have independent, skeptical collaboratorsto scrutinize observation claims, come up with cogent
objections to other people's theories, etc. So, the present thought-experimentpresupposes that the institutions which facilitate scientific curiosity and empirical checking
are already in place.
We now ask, why isn't this enough? Why do we need to add a concern for individual credit in order to make our New Atlantis work? The general answer is, I think,
fairly simple. We want scientists to solve new problems, ones which no one yet
knows the answer to, and we want them to publish their solutions. Lest we take all of
this for granted, we should remember that children routinely satisfy their curiosity and
hone their problem-solving skills by re-discovering Archimedes' Principle or playing
with Rubick's cubes. One tension in science education is how to teach students the
skills necessary for and the satisfactions of solving problems by themselves (in which
case the novelty of their solutions is unimportant)while also encouraging them to
look up answers to questions in authoritativereference works and to devote their energies to working on new projects. And there are educated adults, many of them ex-
240
cellent college teachers, whose active curiosity makes them life-long readers of
"Great Books" but who have few aspirationsto make novel contributions. Satisfying
one's personal curiosity does not insure communal progress. For the latter to occur,
we need to make easily available combined communal information (e.g., libraries),
we need to insure that people work on genuinely new problems (e.g., by requiring literature searches), and we need to rewardpeople for actually publishing any solutions
which they obtain, instead of secretly gloating that they know something which no
one else does (hence, the publish-or-perishethos).
Hull points out that in the past, scientists were often reluctant to make their results
public. There was (and is) a strong traditionof passing on craft skills and secrets only
to apprentices (e.g., alchemy, Stradavarius'violins) and until the patent system was
developed it would be silly to divulge technological innovations. But gentlemen scientists also buried results in desk drawersout of laziness, or caution, or failure of
nerve - or because the incentives and opportunitiesto publish were deficient. For example, here is Dijksterhuis' commentaryon his countryman, Isaac Beeckman:
"Beeckman showed the same defects in the matterof science as Leonardo da
Vinci. Both were deficient in the tenacity of purpose and powers of concentrationrequired to systematize, finish, record, and publish their inquiries, even if only in one
field. Of Faraday'smotto: 'Work,Finish, Publish', they only took to heart the first
injunction. In consequence they either did not advance science at all, or at least to a
much smaller extent than they might have done..." "We shall see more of Beeckman's
independent and frequentlyoriginal way of thinking later: it is to be regretted that this
candle never stood on a candle-stick." (Dijksterhui's 1961, pp. 330-33)
Although today we tend to think that it is "natural"to want to solve problems no
one else has ever solved before and to get public credit for it, I think even a brief look
at the early history of science and especially at traditionalsocieties (cf. the description of resistance to new agriculturalmethods in Kemal's Mehmet, My Hawk, 1979)
reminds us that such a drive is not to be taken for granted and must in fact be carefully shaped through scientific institutions. Every human being may be curious and
want some kind of recognition from peers, but the kinds of things scientists get curious about and the kinds of credit that they find rewarding are both unusual tastes
which are probably acquired.
4. Credit in New Atlantis
Let us now look in a little more detail at how the credit system in science works so
that we can eventually ask how efficient it is in fostering scientific progress. Hull's
description of the publishing/citation system quickly reveals just how complex the
credit system is. Perhapswe can begin to analyze and evaluate it by looking at how
credit considerations enter in at each step of the scientific process as philosophers
would describe it. (Here I follow a quasi-Popperianschema.) Again I will adopt a
thought-experimentstrategy. Let us assume that scientists have the mundane proximate aim of maximizing personal recognition. How well will the behavior appropriate to such an aim coincide with the traditionalultimate aim of understandingthe universe? In the sketch which follows I will emphasize the congruence between these
goals (because that is what I found surprising).
(i) Choice ofproblem: If our immediate aim is to get published in scientific journals,
we should choose problems which haven't been solved yet, but which are ripe for solution. (It is generally difficult to publish unsuccessful solution attempts or interim
reports.) It may be wise to form a team so as to be able to tackle problems which oth-
241
ers aren't equipped to solve and in order to solve problems more quickly, but this
means we'll have to share credit with our co-authors. We also will need to be able to
assess the competence of prospective teammates. We should also choose a problem
whose solution will be of interest to our peers (otherwise they won't cite our work).
This tends to lead to a clustering of research efforts aroundhot topics which means
there is more data/theoreticalspeculations aroundthat topic for everyone to use. But
it also promotes a healthy division of labor because it encourages research teams to
choose not just problems which they have a good chance of eventually solving, but
ones which they also have a good chance of solvingfirst.
(ii) Workingout a tentative solution: Since the first publication often gets the most
positive citations, we must work rapidly and secretly, especially if other individuals or
teams are pursuing similar lines of inquiry. This is a time for team camaraderie,
brainstorming, and the constructive criticism of conjectures. We will look for promising helpful hints while refereeing our competitor's grant-proposalsor even their submitted journal articles (although note that in scientific journals submission dates are
published). On the other hand, we will be reticent to share preliminaryresults with
anyone who might scoop us. This will also protect our own reputations if the conjecture we're working on turnsout to be way off-base.
Once we have a solution which has passed preliminaryappraisals, we must decide
when to publish it. This is a complicated choice. The reasons for publishing as soon
as possible are obvious: if we are right, we want to get credit for being first.
However, as Hull emphasizes, there are also lots of reasons not to rush into print. If
we are quickly shown to be wrong, our reputationsare likely to suffer somewhat.
(This non-Popperian attitudetowards refuted bold conjectures has the function of
pruning the literaturea little bit. Note that the greaterthe reward for being first, the
greater should be the penalty for being wrong if the literatureis not to deteriorate.)
There is yet another consideration: if our conjecture is correct, it will generally lead to
other lines of productive research. By temporarilydelaying publication, we can explore these ramifications at our leisure and publish everything at once!
(iii) Appraisal of the tentative solution: Ignoring for the moment the pre-publication
networks in science, the first hurdle that our tentative solution has to pass is the journal review process. In order to function well, the institutions which regulate publishing in science have to balance a variety of desiderata. Science (and the public) benefits when results are published, so there must be opportunities and incentives to publish. On the other hand, it is imperative to maintain quality control over what is published, so one needs to prevail on experts in each field to take time off from their own
research to referee articles. Why should they consent to undertake these time-consuming and often unpleasant activites? Actually, as any journal editor knows, not everyone does consent. It is in every scientist's cognitive interest to keep the communal
knowledge store as reliable as possible but are there any mundane (credit-related)reasons for doing so? Well, as I pointed out above, it's always nice to have advance
knowledge of what other people working in your area are up to. Furthermore,an excellent way to make sure your own ideas are taken seriously (thus gaining you credit
while increasing their fitness) is to eliminate, or at least point out the weaknesses in,
rival viewpoints.
The form of appraisalmost emphasized by philosophers is that of varied and severe empirical testing, but a scientist looking for professional credit will not spend
time performing experiments which are unlikely to result in a significant number of
citations. So routine replications are out, tests of theories which are of low interest
are out, even refutations of other people's popular theories will be of ratherlow prior-
242
ity (because they will probably not cite your results except to explain them away) unless the refuted theory is in direct competition with your groups' own pet conjecture
in which case your allies will cite it extensively. (One is reminded here of Lakatos'
cognitive claim that there are no refutations,only supercededresearch programmes.)
Under the credit system, bad theories don't die - no refutationof them may ever appear in print; they merely fade from view as their competitors get more citations.
5. The Problem of Tempering the Credit System
In his book Hull emphatically debunks the romantic myth of scientist as the objective, altruistic problem-solver whose only interest is that Nature be understood (and
no matter who wins the Nobel Prize for being the first to probe her inner-most secrets). Scientists, like everyone else, want credit for their successes. However, one
should not draw the cynical conclusion that since scientists qua scientists are motivated by mundane ambitions, the productsof their inquiry have no special cognitive
status. This would be like arguing that since business men and professional athletes
are both "in it for the money", it makes no difference whether you put Donald Trump
or Magic Johnson on the basketball court! The crucial question is not whether scientists want credit; what matters is which activities they in fact receive credit for. Do
the proximate rewards reinforce the ultimate aims of science? Can scientists "do
well by doing good" science?
In the above thought-experiment,I followed Hull in emphasizing the nice fit between what we might call the proximate mundane goals of professional success and
the ultimate noble aims of the search for scientific understanding. Yet philosophy of
biology reminds us how easy it is to make up "just so" stories which render any trait
you like adaptive. And philosophers of social science have taught us to be skeptical
of easy functionalist analyses which emphasize the beneficial effects of the potlach,
cargo cults, sacred cows, primitive warfareand witch burning. Could we not also tell
a pessimistic story about how the lust for quick publications and citations discourages
scientists from tackling difficult problems which would take a long time to solve but
which are nevertheless important? About how too much emphasis on credit can lead
to the exploitation of graduate students, the mistreatmentof laboratoryanimals, irresponsible methodological shortcuts, the practice of publishing virtually the same article in several places, unfair hiring practices, even outright fraud?
Even Hull's own optimistic account indicates that the balance between the cooperative and competitive aspects of science is a ratherfine one. We should remember
that some honorable professions are not so lucky as science seems to have been so
far. The qualities and behaviors requiredto be a successful politician in an age of TV
elections are almost contraryto those which contributeto statesmanship. And there
are fewer professional incentives for doctors to stay abreastof new medical developments (unless their patients read about them in the popularpress and demand them)
than there are for scientists to keep up in their fields. When there is a dissonance between the success structureand the internalaims of the profession, such as exists in
medicine and politics, we need to focus on institutionalreforms, where the direction
of the reform is dictated not by the selfish motives of individual practionersbut by the
internal aims of the profession (which are why society values it in the first place).
Or consider the case of professional sports, which is like science in apparentlyhaving some congruence between mundanesuccess (reflected in salaries) and internally
defined excellence (extraordinarysportingperformances). It would at first appearthat
even if athletes were only out for money, they would have to play just as well. So one
might argue that mundane motivations are sufficient for and do not harm sports as long
243
as there is a strong correlation between salary and batting averages. Yet perhapsit is
not just romanticism which makes us suspicious of this cozy conflation of the sacred
and the secular. What if coaches become reluctantto call for a sacrifice bunt (because
players want to keep their averages up)? What if salaries come to depend on a player's
charismatic box-office appeal, not just on box scores? Won't people playing primarily
for money be easier prey for point-shaving deals with gamblers?
The general point is this: When a profession's rewardsystem is consonant with
the goals of that profession it is indeed possible to do good by doing well. But we
should never forget the primaryimportanceof doing good. Any congruence between
careerism and love of the professional activity for its own sake is precariousenough
that we are ill-advised to abandonour romantic-soundingrehearsalsof the internal
aims of science (or sports!) when we are educating our students - or representingscience to a lay public. We sometimes forget that institutionalizedinvocations of rather
high-sounding ideals such as truth-for-its-own-sakecan also be functional. I once
asked a seminar of graduate students how difficult it would be for them to completely
fabricate their Ph.D. dissertation and get away with it. After they got over their initial
shock, many of them answered that it would be quite easy. Well, why don't you do it,
I asked. There was an embarrassedsilence and finally the political scientist, whose
survey research project we all agreed would be the easiestto fake, answered: "Because
it wouldn't be any fun! I really want to know what my experimental subjects think!"
Scientists want credit, yes. But what they want creditfor is discovering interesting
truths. It's the last part that most sociologists miss entirely. David Hull doesn't miss it
- but perhaps he and I disagree on how importantit is to keep harpingon it. (But of
course his book was published before Colorado used five downs to win a game!)
6. Conclusion
Hull hoped that by introducing the phenotype/genotype distinction he could improve on previous evolutionary models of science and give a unified account of both
the conceptual and social aspects of the scientific process. Instead of viewing scientific ideas as disembodied propositions struggling for survival in a Popperian World 3 (1972), Hull wanted to instantiate them in real flesh-and-blood scientists who competed for grants, graduate students, and glory.
In biological evolution, adaptationoccurs when genes exert a causal influence on
the reproductive success of the phenotypes which house them. The hope was that in
science the cognitive merits of scientific ideas would directly influence the professional success of scientists which would in turn determinethe extent to which those ideas
would be accepted as true. To put it crudely, people who hit upon true theories would
be more apt to make successful predictions, produce lots of experimentalresults and
win Nobel prizes. It would then be their theories (possibly named after them) which
would be cited in all subsequent science books. But as the example from the history of
religion shows, the mere fact that the bearersof certain ideas are very successful in
gaining converts who perpetuatethese ideas throughmany generationstells us nothing
about the empirical adequacy of those conceptual systems. Neither does the introduction of a citation/credit system help solve the demarcationproblem. The Biblical interpretationsof the Church fathers are much cited by later theologians and T.V. evangelists compete and get credit for numbersof souls saved or numberof dollars raised.
Perhaps artificial selection would serve as a better model for epistemologists.
Pigeon fanciers select for a wide variety of idiosyncratic properties - homing instincts,
speed, or big neck ruffs. The pigeons which survive "fit" only the fancies of the
breeders and are not at all adapted to any naturalniche. People select ideas for all
244
sorts of attributes- for their beauty, their whimsy, their ease of comprehension, their
political correctness - and sometimes for their descriptive adequacy. (Post-modernists
are right about one thing - science is not the only game in town!) So I conclude that
Hull's evolutionary model does not describe what is distinctive about science. But
what it does do is raise some very interesting questions about the natureof scientific
institutions and how well adapted they are to the aims of the scientific enterprise.
References
Dijksterhuis, E.J. (1961), The Mechanization of the WorldPicture. Oxford: Oxford
University Press.
Hull, D.L. (1988), Science as a Process: An EvolutionaryAccount of the Social and
Conceptual Development of Science. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Kemal, Y. (1979), Mehmet, My Hawk. Denmark: Gyuldendalo Bogklub.
Pagels, E. (1979), The Gnostic Gospels. New York: Random House.
Popper, K.R. (1972), Objective Knowledge: An EvolutionaryApproach. London:
Oxford University Press.