THE SCIENTIFIC MIND
It is quite common, in reading and in conversation, to find references to the “scientific mind,” but it is difficult to ascertain precisely how this mental structure is supposed to differ from other sorts of mind. The difficulty of defining an object does not, perhaps, affect the probability of the existence of the object; although it is difficult for some people to refrain from concluding that because a man cannot define what he means he does not mean anything. We must suppose that there is some particular kind of mind called the scientific mind, in spite of the fact that the numerous references to it tell us little about it except that it is somewhat extensively disliked. So far as can be judged from a superficial comparison of different references, the “scientific mind” is characterised by an inordinate appetite for facts and an absence of generosity in drawing conclusions from facts. In ordinary times this absence of generosity is dismissed by most people as quibbling, while in time of war it becomes unpatriotic. During the war every Englishman was supposed to believe a great number of things on very slender evidence or even on no evidence. It was considered that a right patriotic feeling not only could, but should, supply the place of evidence, and lead to correct conclusions. The majority of people in every class of the community found themselves able to adopt this method of thought without discomfort, and it became evident that the scientific mind is as rare amongst scientific men as amongst any other men, while those who could not give this supreme proof of patriotism were found pretty evenly distributed amongst the different classes. As a type of mind, therefore, it is not peculiar to scientific men nor do they all possess it. It cannot be regarded as a distinguishing mark of this class. But while a just, cautious temperament need not belong to the man of science as a human being, it might be thought that, as a mental habit, it is necessary to his work. There is much truth in this, although it is not wholly true. Alternative explanations are not always explored by scientists, and if, as sometimes happens, the alternative explanations are wrong, the scientific man may have reached a correct result although he worked in a partisan spirit.
But while the characteristics of what is popularly known as the scientific mind are not peculiar to scientific men, it is true that, in their actual scientific work, these characteristics have a greater survival value than they possess in almost any other kind of work. The extent to which mental habits may be local, confined to some only of a man’s mental activities, has been made apparent by the war. The majority of men’s minds are split up into water-tight compartments in a way truly astonishing, and the various eloquent addresses on the moral value of scientific studies now make melancholy reading. We must assume of scientific men, as of any other class, that such qualities of fairness and deliberation as they exhibit in their work are imposed upon them as conditions of success, and are not, in general, the natural manifestations of an exceptionally delicate moral sensibility. If we adopt William James’ classification of human beings into tender-minded and tough-minded the dividing line runs through the scientific camp as through any other. We see this most clearly in the case of mathematicians, for idealist or empiricist assumptions seem to be equally reconcilable with the results. Such sciences as physics and chemistry seem, at first glance, to be given over to the tough-minded; the official language, as it were, is the language of the tough-minded, but directly controversy arises on a point having philosophical bearings we see the dichotomy establish itself.
Nevertheless, it remains true that while scientific men, as human beings, are of all sorts, they do exhibit, in their own work, a degree of mental honesty which is unusual. It is easy to see that this virtue, at any rate, has a strictly utilitarian basis. A scientific man is honest because he cannot succeed on any other terms in the long run. The experimental verification always looms ahead. He cannot, like the mystic who maintains his opinion in face of the world, take refuge in the deeper insight. His results are communicable and verifiable or they are not science. Philosophies may be constructed which no man can verify and no man can refute. Their authors may, with complete assurance, remain satisfied of their truth and lament the universal blindness of mankind, just as a poet may present a front of unconquerable self-esteem to the ignorant derision of the world. But the whole claim of science is that it is communicable and capable of verification. It is found, as a matter of experience, that results of this kind are not usually obtained unless a certain mental habit is first acquired. It is this mental habit which is usually called the scientific mind. Where it is the outcome of a natural predisposition it may be classed as a moral quality, and, as such, is not peculiar to, or widely distributed amongst, scientific men. But as a tool, as a kind of technique, it is of more obvious value and is more extensively employed in the sciences than in any other human activities.