Beach Haven

Bibliography
​Pickering, A. (1995). The Mangle of Practice: Time, Agency, and Science. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press.
 
Andrew Pickering takes a look at science as a practical work. While there are many philosophical arguments abounding in regards to science in theory, he examines social forces that shape and are shaped by the processes in scientific decision making.

Pickering offers some clarification around the word ‘mangle’. He realizes that this has a different meaning in different places. In America, for example, he notes that the word refers to completely messing something up from the original intention of the thing in question. In his sense mangle means, “practice, understood as the work of cultural extension” (original emphasis) (Pickering, 1995, p. 3). He equates ‘mangle’ with ‘change’. To Pickering, the practice of science is to change it from the theoretical to the real.

He uses some examples to show how process and outcomes don’t always follow original assumptions. One example includes experimentation using a bubble chamber. It includes “the extension of the mechanic field of science, specifically of the development of the bubble chamber as an instrument for experimental research in elementary-particle physics” (Pickering, 1995, p. 37). Pickering shares the history of decisions it took to get to a working model, and the modification of how ‘working’ was eventually defined. Since the chamber ultimately did not create the exact vacuum conceived, the vacuum it did achieve served to define what a bubble chamber is.

Other examples in the book include “hunting the quark,” “constructing quaternions,” and “numerically controlled machine tools.” Each comes with its own history of conception through realization with social compromises along the way. Finally, Pickering finishes with two chapters on conceptual arguments about the kinds of influences and ways to perhaps embrace or reconstruct them. In Chapter 6 for example, he puts some focus on scientific norms as espoused by Robert Merton which have been argued about since their inception. Pickering considers these norms (or any others) as ‘articulations’. 
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Bibliography
Bijker, W. E. (1995). Of Bicycles, Bakelites, and Bulbs: Toward a Theory of Sociotechnical Change. Cambridge & London: The MIT Press.

Review by Michael Beach
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Wiebe Bijker uses three specific technology examples to explore how social factors affect technical outcomes. “The stories we tell about technology reflect and can also affect our understanding of the place of technology in our lives and our society” (Bijker, 1995, p. 1). Although this quote may sound as if Bijker is arguing along a co-constructive line, yet throughout the book it’s clear that he asserts that social influence on technology is the primary force.

The bicycle chapter looks at the evolution of how they were designed and constructed. The perceptions evolved from the large bikes that were for daring young men who at times suffered the odd broken bone or two. Such perception led to the eventual production of the ‘safety bike’ that looks ever more like the bikes we typically ride today. By changing front and rear tire size, adding breaks, making seats wider, and other modifications, the community of bicycle riders expanded to include older people and women.

Bakelite is a substance that I became very familiar with while serving in the US Navy. Pretty much every placard on the ship I served on were made of it. Bakelite is an early form of plastic created and modified over time by the company formed by Leo Henricus Arthur Baekeland. Through all sorts of chemical combinations and varying heating temperature and bake timing, he was able to form a number of plastics of different flexibility and strength. The hard relatively thin version seemed to gain the biggest use of Bakelite. Eventually this form of plastic was supplanted by more modern forms that require less toxic waste to create. Newer plastic is also less expensive to make. Nonetheless, for the better part of a century many needs formerly provided by less durable materials, or those more metallic-based and subject to oxidation, were replaced by this early form of plastic.

Turning to bulbs, Bijker looks at the creation of the electric florescent light. What eventually became the long tubes we have all come to know, the approach was thought to fill the need of longer lasting bulbs that could light larger areas than the small incandescent. Industrial facilities in particular had difficulty fully lighting large factory spaces with small incandescent bulbs, and larger spotlights required more frequent replacement. This example specifically addresses not only social influence on invention, but even organized social effort to standardize the eventual technology. Bijker shares several examples of groups of users and bulb manufacturers who even held conferences in an effort to agree on gases used, electrical voltage standards, and the like.

Wiebe Bijker makes the argument for a ‘constructionist analysis’ (p. 280). “Such an analysis stresses the malleability of technology, the possibility for choice, the basic insight that things could have been otherwise” (author’s emphasis) (Ibid.). Bijker immediately notes that not all technological change is so malleable. Later sociologists of technology would take this assumption of social preeminence in the relationship between technology and society to a more level two-way influence. That conception of a level playing field is known as co-construction.
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Bibliography
​Golinski, J. (2005). Making Natural Knowledge: Constructivism and the History of Science. Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press.
 
Jan Golinski looks to shed some light on historical views of constructivism in science. Constructivists argue that scientific facts are not discovered but are created based on social factors affecting individual scientists and the greater scientific community. After essays on issues raised by constructionism and some of the general related ideas, he clarifies typical arguments concerning social identity for scientists. For example, how they view themselves, how their self-view is disciplined among members of larger scientific community, and who is even a part of that community.

Golinski continues along the line of examining the workplaces of scientists, how they are organized and funded. He refers to scientific laboratories as ‘places of production’ of knowledge. Clearly that is different than how many scientists view labs as places of discovery. He spends a whole chapter viewing ideas of Ian Hacking, a scientific philosopher whose works I’ve read a few of. Hacking devoted a great deal of study on the ideas of intervening with nature and representing the outcomes of those interventions. For example, is the atomic model of electrons spinning around a neutron a representation of what an atom actually looks like, or just a way to explain the measured phenomena? Do chemical substances in nature actually interact with each other the way they do in a lab where specific components are isolated from each other before being mixed in unnatural rations? Constructivists argue that without human intervention such behavior is not natural. They also argue that human representation (such as using mathematics) only partially describes the intervening version and not natural processes.

“The issue of narrative, with its connection to the moral meaning of historical discourse, is an important one to consider in the light of constructivist approaches to the history of science” (Golinski, 2005, p. 187). Golinski is looking at the history of constructivism in science as well as the history of the history of constructivism in science. 
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Bibliography
​Frickel, S., & Moore, K. (Eds.). (2006). The New Political Sociology of Science: Institutions, Networks, and Power. London: The University of Wisconsin Press.

Review by Michael Beach
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Like many academic books, this work is a compilation of chapters written by various authors who share focus points of the title topic. Each chapter is grouped with others under three main topics: the commercialization of science; science and social movements; and science and the regulatory state. The editors note how many such books come from a compilation of papers presented at a given conference, and that this book does not follow that pattern. “We invited contributors to tender individual or comparative case study analyses that explain why events and processes in science happen the way they do” (Frickel & Moore, 2006, p. vii).

Referenced case studies include an examination of how social and political ideas shape how science is approached, and which scientific questions are examined. Likewise, there are examples showing how scientific work can influence political and social thought. Case studies include agricultural, biomedical research, alternative approaches to science, scientific consensus, ethics and training, political movements on specific diseases, and the list continues.

The ’creation’ or ‘discovery’ of scientific ‘facts’ is fraught with myriad decisions made by individuals and groups of people. Despite the assumed objectivity of the scientific approach, in reality the larger human world in which all scientists live plays an important role in what gets examined and how reliable the findings might be. Facts tend to be established through consensus, but consensus does not guarantee information is completely factual. The tensions among funding, policy, process, and priority are real as evidenced in the ideas and case studies offered in this book. What makes the ideas presented is simply that this is a later version of an earlier work by sociologist Stuart Blume. The earlier version from 1974 is titled Toward a Political Sociology of Science. As quoted by Frickel and Moore, the intent of that book was to offer an analysis “founded upon the assumption that the social institution of modern science is essentially political” (Frickel & Moore, 2006, p. 3). The motivation to update the ideas of the Blume book is that “the interconnections among the institutions he examined in deriving that claim have since undergone extensive transformation” (Frickel & Moore, 2006, p. 4).

Bibliography
Galison, P., & Hevly, B. (Eds.). (1992). Big Science: The Growth of Large-Scale Research. Stanford CA: Stanford University Press.
 
Review by Michael Beach
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Like many of the books I read for my post-graduate studies, this is a compilation of papers. In this case, the chapters relate to scientific research projects that are considered big enough in scope to meet the editors’ speculative attempt at a definition of big. As one might suspect, the introduction is by one of the editors, Peter Galison, and contains the thought around how to draw the boundary between big and not big. Galison also spends time discussing why the topic matters. Like in most things, one’s perspective on what ‘big’ means depends a great deal on where one is. For example, Galison notes, “Seen from the inside – from scientists’ perspective – big science entails a change in the very nature of a life in science” (Galison & Hevly, 1992, p. 1). Is it the size of the team working on a given project? Is it the size of the budget? Is it a function of the hoped-for outcomes? Are big science projects only those funded by the government? Are they those that will do the most ‘good’? You can see the nature of the discussion covered in this book.

The questions above are tackled by a number of authors through the depiction of historical events in the scientific research community. There are five chapters about the growth of particle physics. Four more chapters discuss the tension between researcher priorities and those of funders such as governments and large corporations. The last four authors examine the relationship between research and national security. These are followed by an afterword by the other editor, Bruce Hevly.

When science is big enough to capture public attention because of the potential impact, some of the tensions mentioned above also grow. In the afterword, Hevly admits a clear definition of big science “remains an elusive term” (Galison & Hevly, 1992, p. 355). He further calls the term “conveniently murky” (Ibid.) in that something can be termed ‘big’ or ‘not big’ based on what’s to one’s advantage. For example, when seeking funding for grants perhaps big means having an important mission for humanity. When appealing to a private funder, maybe economic value has more appeal to be big. Yet, if one is looking for less attention perhaps the moniker is more troublesome. For example, if a work gains less attention by others then perhaps patents can be more easily obtained through reduced competition. Maybe the scientists involved can garner notability through being the first to publish on a given topic that others are not thinking about because it wasn’t big enough to get their attention. Whatever one calls ‘big’ in science, there are certainly many scientific efforts that have created impact on civilization in part or in whole. In the end the question remains. How big is big?
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Bibliography
Bowker, G. C., & Star, S. L. (1999). Sorting Things Out: Classification and its Consequences. Cambridge and London: The MIT Press.

Review by Michael Beach
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This book speaks to a long-standing problem in both science and technology. When is a thing a thing, and not something else? Despite belief in clear categories, there is often ambiguity and continuum when it comes to pretty much anything we choose to measure. Even in something as ‘obvious’ as on or off. For example, in any electrical system (computers included) there is a voltage increase or decrease just after a switch is thrown. As immediate as the process may seem in human time, we have instruments that can measure the charging and discharging that goes on. What about when the power has a ‘brown out’. Is it on or off?

This dilemma is where the authors go in this book. They emphasize the effect that human choice has on establishing categories, and in deciding when something is in one category or another. In the world of the sociology of science, this idea is sometimes dubbed ‘boundary work’. Scientists are influenced by the professional and general societies they find themselves in. Different scientific organizations may approach the same ‘problem’ in different ways creating competing categories. For example, there a lots of different ways scientific disciplines name or describe anything from substances, to flora and fauna, to human traits. Pick pretty much any like-grouped things and you have created your own version of a category. The issue in terms of science is the addition of an authority that comes along with the supposed objectivity of scientists.
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Bowker and Star share examples as wide ranging as tuberculosis, apartheid, and nursing work. They conclude with a chapter on why classifications matter. “Classifications are powerful technologies. Embedded in working infrastructures they become relatively invisible without losing any of that power” (Bowker & Star, 1999, p. 320). Decided by convention over time, categories, by definition, create a form of hierarchy. Such hierarchy might be among humans in an organization (who’s a doctor and who’s a nurse?), or among which form of category will be accepted within a given society as ‘higher’ or ‘lower’. For example, in evolutionary science specimens are often dubbed higher or lower forms of life based on the complexity of their cellular make up or their DNA structure. Bowker and Star point out that things are generally on some sort of continuum or other, and drawing lines within the continuum is arbitrary and tends to mislead. One classic example is the box on a form describing race. Which does a multi-racial person check when describing themselves?

Bibliography
​Merton, R. K. (1973). The Sociology of Science: Theoretical and Empirical Investigations. Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press.

Robert Merton is a foundational academic in sociology as it relates to science and technology. In particular he is known for defining idealized scientific norms. The book here reviewed describes and addresses his norms. It also includes a number of case studies to demonstrate the application of norms or when scientists or organizations of scientists have not displayed these sorts of idealized behaviors in the formation of scientific ‘facts’ or ‘findings’.

For Merton, scientific norms are formed through what he calls the ‘ethos of science’ (Merton, 1973, p. 268). His norms include ‘universalism’ which means truth-claims “are subjected to preestablished impersonal criteria” (Merton, 1973, p. 270). The next is called ‘communism’, which not a reference to Marxist political theories. Rather, it refers to a willingness of scientists to share their findings with other scientists so knowledge can advance for the common good. Another norm is called ‘disinterestedness’. For Merton, this is not about individual motivation, rather it is “a distinctive pattern of institutional control of a wide range of motives which characterizes the behavior of scientists” (Merton, 1973, p. 276). Merton refers to his final norm as ‘organized skepticism’. In this he is speaking about scientific self-review as an industry. This is functionally displayed in the idea of peer review of published findings.

These all sound well and good, but Merton himself refers in this book to ways that individual scientists and the scientific industry as a whole fail to live up to these norms. Others make the argument that rather than accept Mertonian norms as the standard, they are just his specific take on the topic. In fact the exceptions that Merton shares can be argues as the real norms, or at least alternatives to Merton’s normative descriptors. In this book for example, Robert Merton examines the scientific reward system. Who gets their papers published and in which industry publications is one way that incentive can cause norms to shift. Some universities or research organizations tend to be published more because of past publication. If that is so, then a researcher is more likely to get recognized by virtue of becoming a part of that organization as opposed to another. Getting credit becomes more motivation perhaps than advancing knowledge. Since Merton does a good job in my opinion at laying out these counter-norm examples, in a way he makes a case against his framework. In short, he argues for his version or norms, and notes deviations from those norms. As I said above, it could be that there are any number of ‘norms’ from organization to organization and person to person. If science as an industry accepts Mertonian norms as a standard, just with the examples he shares in this book it’s clear the norm is likely not actually the norm.

One other way to think about this would be the tension between sharing and hoarding knowledge. Many countries are slow to allow publication of facts with likely military application that might benefit a geopolitical rival. Likewise, private research organizations exist for the benefit of the corporation that funds it. Pharmaceutical companies will be slow to share information that has not already been patented. The counter norm in the first instance is about protecting a specific citizenry, in the second it’s about protecting the financial sustainability of a specific for-profit company.
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In the study of sociological influences between the scientific community and the community at large, this work by Robert K. Merton is part of the canon that is still often referred to in journal publications

 

Bibliography
​Lindberg, D. C. (2007). The Beginnings of Western Science (2nd ed.). The University of Chicago Press: Chicago and London.

David Lindberg walks the reader through a specific historical narrative of western science. The subtitle reads, “The European Scientific Tradition in Philosophical, Religious, and Institutional Context, Prehistory to A.D.1450”. That subtitle is a mouthful, but essentially describes the effort of the book. It does potentially mislead. For example, there is a significant look at scientific knowledge and processes that enter Europe from Muslim middle east and African nations such as those learned in Spain as a result of the ‘reconquista’.

In particular, Lindberg makes s good case about assumptions and misconceptions about science, particularly medical science, in medieval Europe. Many think that time was clouded to thought as it is sometimes called ‘the dark ages’. In fact, there was medical advancement in the period both within the medical community, and through gleanings from the world of Islam. Lindberg makes it clear some advances were tampered in part by Catholic church authorities, but just as often what knowledge growth does occur is because church officials encourage exploration. In fact, many middle-age scholars were also clergy as they had time, access to libraries and resources, and instruction to read and interpret the information. Much of the experimentation of the time was instigated by this same clergy.
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If past is prolog, Lindberg’s efforts to help the reader understand scientific support and obstacles could help today. He shows not only when religious dogma may have been at odds with so called advancement, but also where scientific dogma may have been more detrimental to itself. In fact, he shows how in many cases the church was more supportive of a relationship with science than practitioners were when it came to a relationship with the church. Just as we all need to be open to the ideas of science, so too scientific practitioners need to understand when their theories seem supported by evidence, such ideas are not automatically true. When scientific ideas become themselves dogmatic the risk is a ceasing of inquiry and knowledge growth.

 

Bibliography
​Jasanoff, S. (Ed.). (2004). States of Knowledge: The Co-production of Science and Social Order. London & New York: Routledge.
 
This work is a compilation of academic papers that relate to the titular topic. The theory of co-production is essentially that science and technology evolve as influenced by sociological forces, and society also evolved in part based on technological and scientific change. Facts of science, and artifacts of technology bring change to society, and are changed by society as it changes. Co-production does not assume science and technology as the sole influencers or influenced. Several of the chapter authors do make the case describing the relationship in either stronger or weaker terms, essentially putting science and technology at various level of sociological priority as compared with other societal influencers.

As editor, Sheila Jasanoff describes co-production as a framework. She notes how many of the chapters examine specific examples, and “in working out co-productionist ideas through detailed empirical studies, they also demonstrate the framework’s practical uses and limits” (Jasanoff, 2004, p. 6). She also describes co-production as an idiom. Shaping the associated language simultaneously shapes the perspective. Narrowing of language might make things clearer, but the risk lies in also narrowing the perspective and leaving out what might not be addressed by the framework. This is true in any similar effort. Don’t get me wrong when I say this. I put a good deal of stock in the ideas of co-production as compared to say earlier notions of determinism, or constructivism.

One risk here is how one determines a specific ‘society’. For example, those who both use and design the latest video games can be a somewhat narrow demographic. A specific portion of the larger society may indeed both influence and get influenced by the specific technology, but how much of a role do non-users play (pun intended). One can argue tangential technology change that gets implemented in other less narrow projects. Yet, are not those other projects just another application targeting a different narrow portion of society?
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Jasanoff concedes at the end of the book that, “this approach is more consistent with projects of interpretation than intervention” (Jasanoff, 2004, p. 280). “Such studies,” she continues, “are better suited to explaining how things came to be ordered in particular ways than at forecasting future impacts of specific choices and decisions.”

Review by Michael Beach

Bibliography
​Jayawardhana, R. (2013). Neutrino Hunters: The Thrilling Chase for a Ghostly Particle to Unlock the Secrets of the Universe. New York: Scientific American.
 
I first got interested in neutrino particles many years ago. When we lived in Colorado, much of my professional work put me on airplanes, heading for many corners of the globe. One of those trips I was thumbing through an airline magazine and saw a story on neutrinos. Much of the description of the 'ghost particle' mirrored descriptions of the substance of the spirit as described in the Doctrine and Covenants. I have often kicked myself for not hanging onto the magazine.

I recently stumbled across this book. It is essentially a history of those scientists who made speculation about subatomic particles in general, then those who were able to create tools to try and measure their forces. In the process they discovered many subatomic particles, neutrinos just being one among the discoveries. In the book there are several sections that act as tutorials both of the current understanding of the various subatomic particles, as well as the methods and infrastructure it takes to run experiments and take force measurements. The science is complicated of course, but someone like me who is less ingrained in the community can follow along as described by Ray Jayawardhana. In fact, my poor Anglo brain might find his name more difficult to say than to grasp his explanation of the science involved (just kidding... sort of).

Despite the broader descriptions of other particles, the focus of the book is on neutrinos and the specific scientists who worked it all out. As one might guess, there were plenty of setbacks, collaborations, and competitive interference. Some of the discovery was accidental, or perhaps better said as incidental. As the evidence mounted not all involved were supportive of the explanations eventually adopted. This may be because of the normal versus revolutionary paradigmatic science as described by Thomas Kuhn. At any rate, human endeavor is fraught, and whether facts are created or discovered (that’s a debate by the way), acceptance is rarely universal and almost never rapidly so. Such was and is still the case surrounding subatomic theory (quantum mechanics) and the neutrino in particular.