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.