I am pleased to have the opportunity to respond to Oren, Ozminkowski, and Strake's comments on my recent article on myths about the physical sciences. All of them in my judgment either misperceive parts of my original argument or raise concerns that allow me to extend that argument. To the degree that others share their views, this essay may address widespread differences of opinion or misperceptions about these matters.

I begin with some observations in response to Ozminkowski. He takes exception, and in several ways, to how I characterize and compare the social and physical sciences. He thinks my use of example concepts and episodes from, and my general characterizations of, the physical sciences “questionable.” So be it. We can all read the history of science and reach our own conclusions. And we might come to different interpretations of how to generalize the implications of such work as that of Heisenberg, Popper, and the like. I stand by my examples and characterizations. Indeed, I disagree quite pointedly with Ozminkowski in regard to some of his conclusions about the physical sciences, his distinctions about physical science versus technology, and his characterizations of the social sciences. More importantly, however, and behind my own discussion of such matters, are three general, interrelated points that Ozminkowski either ignores or fails to recognize.

First, I am hardly the first to observe that the mass public, secondary school students, and university students commonly misunderstand the physical sciences. I cited as much prior work to that effect in my article as PS's length limits and an effort at graceful balance in a short essay allow. This point, then, is not original, but it is central to my argument.

Second, all the sciences share some common goals and procedures, and their intellectual histories share striking similarities. If we can educate our students about those shared properties, they will have a more sophisticated perspective than they otherwise would for understanding political science. This point is not entirely novel to my essay either. It is widely noted, either directly or implicitly, but I am unaware of any work that explicates it fully. My original essay does not develop it fully either, but that essay and other of my writings on political science education share this theme and pursue it in one or another way (Hill 1997, 78; Hill 2002).

Third, students with poor understanding of the physical sciences are especially ill-prepared intellectually to grasp the character of the social sciences qua sciences. This point is original to my PS article. Recognizing that hurdle for teaching political science was almost a revelation for the insights it gave me about effective pedagogical strategies. And the point of my article was to share this recognition and some insights about how it can prove useful for teaching in our discipline.

Ozminkowski suggests that he prefers a more direct approach to engaging students about the scientific character and success of our discipline. Evidently, he would employ such a strategy in discussing how he characterizes the phenomena we study as especially “cloudlike” and in evaluating the “reliablity” of our theory in applied use. Many routes to knowledge can be fruitful. Perhaps I betray my scholarly origins in comparative politics in thinking that a comparative understanding of the sciences would be especially valuable. Even Ozminkowski's “direct” approaches must rely on comparisons with other sciences. How will students appreciate the implications of attempting to study “cloud-like” phenomena if they do not contrast it with the stereotypic notion that the physical sciences study only “clock-like” phenomena?

I have a number of ideas for a yet-to-be-written essay on students' misperceptions of the social sciences explicitly. Such an essay might have better pleased Ozminkowski. But it is the more obvious alternative, bordering on the mundane, given that others have laid down many of the basic points of such an argument. The challenge for that argument is saying something novel.

Finally, I reply to Ozminkowski's complaint that I am “sloppy” in my use of the term physical sciences. He apparently prefers the label “natural sciences” for all those disciplines outside the social sciences. Labels can be a bother for all concerned in such situations. But I use the terms physical and social sciences quite deliberately. I consider the label natural sciences a universal, and thus quite meaningless, one. Does Ozminkowski imply that we are among the unnatural sciences? As I observe to my students, all sciences study natural phenomena. The “things” that political sciences observe and seek to understand are every bit as natural as those that biologists, chemists, and geologists study. Nature is at work in politics as it is in physics.

On, then, to Professor Oren. He contests one claim in my article that ours is a young scientific discipline. Youth and age, doubtless like beauty, are judged differently by different observers. I note two points, though, in response to Oren's judgment on this matter. First, a string of citations, some going back to the early nineteenth century, of arguments to the effect that the study of politics ought to become more scientific is no evidence that it did become so in response to those exhortations.

Second, my judgment on this matter is not unusual. A host of contemporary observers echoes the conclusion that ours is a young scientific discipline. Consider a variety of histories of political science on this point, as well as various shorter assessments of the state of the discipline, whether friendly or not to its modern scientific disposition (Boston 2002, 280; Crick 1954; Kirkpatrick 1962, esp. 10 11; Lynn 1983, 96 97; Somit and Tanenhaus 1967, esp. 109 133). Consider the conclusions of a range of historians and philosophers of science as they discuss in more or less detail the character of the social sciences (e.g., Kuhn 1996, 15; Lakatos 1978, 9; Nagel 1961, 447).

Finally, I am surprised that Oren did not raise another objection to my conclusion that ours is a youthful scientific discipline that our scientific roots are ancient and begin at least with Aristotle. Thus I address this common belief, as well. To conclude that we have forebears in ancient times is doubtless correct. To conclude that the intellectual procedures employed by these forebears accord with those of science as we know it today is arguable and likely not supportable (Schlagel 1995, 297 324). To conclude, finally, that a small number of thoughtful, pre-scientific observers of political phenomena, often separated from dialogue with each other by leagues and centuries, constituted a scientific community as we know such today is also insupportable.

I come, then, to Mr. Strake's lament. He is disheartened by the fact that certain “advocates of positivism,” specifically “positive and formal theorists,” discount other modes of scholarship in political science and their value. I conclude that Strake's education as a scientist is incomplete. He cites Lakatos on a particular point, and I wager that he has also read Kuhn's Structure given its signal status. But I conclude that he has not read between the lines of the cool, abstract analytics in such works.

Consider one set of written lines from Kuhn (1996, 12 13) when he discusses pre-paradigmatic research on physical optics before Newton and what we might infer is implied between those lines:

It is difficult to imagine that scholars working in one of these separate schools felt particular respect for those in other schools. Kuhn implies, too, that differences of method as well as substantive focus divided these groups. Reading between the lines, then, in Kuhn or Lakatos (1978) or any similar discussion of competing schools of research in any scientific discipline leads to the same conclusion. Varying degrees of indifference, disrespect, or outright hostility are common across schools. And the latter observation does not deny that there always exist some scholars whose work seeks to unify and transcend the views of competing schools. Such individuals exist in political science today, but so do many who are hostile or indifferent toward scholars pursuing explanatory structures or employing methodologies different than their own. Indeed, some practitioners of “small-N, discursive” research who Strake defends are quite hostile to the work of scholars pursuing positive and formal theory.

In sum, I encourage Strake and others who share his concern to read between the lines of conventional histories of science in other fields. Perhaps, he's also missed the direct, explicit discussion of the sociology and, indeed, politics of science in such works as Watson's The Double Helix (1968). There the realpolitik of competing scientific schools is addressed in the lines. What Strake accurately perceives in political science, then, is common in all the sciences.

I conclude with a few comments about a concern implied but not fully developed in Strake's argument. He defends, if I represent his various comments correctly, scholars interested in relatively more particularistic instead of generalizable phenomena, those concerned with normative matters, and those who might employ qualitative, inductive, or discursive research methods. He echoes a common complaint that such scholars feel scorned and undervalued by those in other schools. My advice above is to recognize how common this situation is. Yet I am a practitioner of relatively inductive research methods myself. I exalt the particular advantages and power of such methods and am spurred all the more to demonstrate them given the popularity of deductive theory building research in our discipline. Thus I would offer the same counsel to those about whom Strake is concerned as I could in principle to myself. If you value your own scholarship, don't complain about its alleged second-class status. Instead, get on with your work. Do your best to craft clever and interesting research on important questions. Your success will be judged by your peers, but meritorious scholarship will be recognized regardless of its theoretical or methodological orientation. Some school will embrace you.