Well, let us admit, we all suffer from at least a mild case of “social sciences inferiority complex.” So it seems does Kim Quaile Hill in his spirited defense of the “less exact” part of academe. He finds his students' skepticism about (maybe even disdain for) political science troubling and frustrating. He is unhappy with students questioning the validity and certainty of social sciences. He fights back. However, his solution to the problem is not only ill-conceived, but it has the potential of harming his (our?) own cause. Instead of dealing with students' skepticism of the scientific character of social sciences, he blames that skepticism on students' misperceptions and misconceptions about physical sciences. Still, initially his argument sounds convincing when the misconceptions are framed in terms of scientific illiteracy, pseudo-science, and superstition. The first impression is—of course, how one can appreciate social sciences without a good understanding of science in the more traditional hard-sciences sense. Yet, we quickly discover that is not the author's point. It is the opposite. It is not so much about distrusting physical sciences, but rather about trusting it too much. With so much faith in physical sciences, social sciences are perceived as soft, inaccurate, and uncertain.

Hill believes that in order to gain a greater respect and understanding of social sciences, we need to demythologize physical sciences. He lists several myths that must be dispelled. But are the myths really myths? And if they are, are they really the main culprit in the poor understanding of social sciences among our students? Let us begin with the myths.

The first refers to the question of certainty and determinism. According to Hill it is not true that “the subject matter of the physical sciences is highly orderly, indeed, deterministic in its ‘behavior’” (468). He proceeds to dispel that myth with a few examples from quantum physics, theory of evolution, and medicine. He concludes: “the physical and social sciences are not remarkably different in these respects” (468). The question of determinism is not new. One of the more interesting and well-known discussions on the subject is Karl Popper's 1965 lecture “Of Clouds and Clocks” (Popper 1979). I do not believe that getting into an argument that physical phenomena and social/human behavior are “not remarkably different” is beneficial. Our students are mature enough to be engaged in a discussion about differences between the two (especially in classes on scientific methodology). And they are surely able to distinguish among the various parts of the natural sciences. Very few would argue today that “all clouds are clocks,” but there is no harm in admitting that certain phenomena are more cloud-like and others more clock-like. The fact that the subject matter of social sciences is definitely more likely to be in the first category is not a reason for despair. To the contrary, it should explain the difficulties with which social scientists struggle in their research.

And, naturally, in such discussions there is also room for examining uncertainties in the physical sciences. Yet, using a few questionable examples should not suffice. One is the tired example of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. It seems that political scientists do not really understand the principle and invoke it more for the name than its real meaning. As Gross and Levitt remarked: “If Heisenberg and company had chosen a less evocative term, an awful lot of nonsense of this sort might never have seen the light of day” (Gross and Levitt 1998, 51). Looking at other of Hill's examples, we discover that he is rather sloppy in using the term “physical sciences.” Throughout the article he moves across a variety of disciplines that can be characterized not so much as physical sciences but rather as natural sciences. Actually, very few of his examples are specifically from physical sciences. What is worse, on at least one occasion an example refers more to non-scientists controversies over science.

The next two myths cited by the author are simply the consequence of the first. If students see the subject matter of physical sciences as highly orderly, they also expect scientific research in these areas to be more successful and effective. Again—is there any harm in admitting that physical sciences (or, say, natural sciences in general) are generally more successful in explaining the subject matter they study? Of course, one could always argue about the meaning of the word ‘successful.’ It is apparent that Hill sets the standard very high. The argument here is basically this: Oh, well, there is still much to explain, therefore science is not that successful. But that is not the point. The question is not how much has or has not been discovered, but whether once something has been discovered and a theory formulated, how reliable that theory is when applied. I believe this to be an important point at which Hill and his students diverge. He looks at science from a farther distance and sees uncertainties and contradictions. But most students are not interested in philosophical questions—what is more, they are not really affected by the philosophical upheavals. To use Kuhn's terminology, Hill sees “incommensurability” and “paradigm shifts” while his students see science as “normal science” (Kuhn 1962). Further, they surely have a more utilitarian approach to science. They judge science by the practical results. For example, when they see the landing of NASA's Mars Rover, they appreciate the precision of the project. Even if there are mishaps, they know the problems are not the result of faulty science but rather engineering miscalculations or outside factors (who knows, maybe politics involved in approving and financing such projects). They rarely get such precision from political science or sociology.

Again, I want to emphasize the point that this is not an attempt to glorify or paint the natural sciences as infallible. Of course, Hill is right that physical (natural) sciences have their own failings. He is also certainly right that many theories in social sciences offer a very clear and truly scientific picture of the world. However, pointing to weaknesses of “the other guy” does not help in building respect for social sciences. This type of argument is of no use. I would argue that it is very healthy to show the limitations of political science as science. Although difficult ontological and epistemological discussion may not always be effective in undergraduate classes, it is an important debate and an effort should be made to familiarize students with the questions of the philosophy of sciences. The basic guiding principles are the same for all sciences, but whether we like it or not, not all methods can be applied the same way as in physical sciences. As Nagel wrote more than 40 years ago, “perhaps the most frequently mentioned source of difficulty is the allegedly narrow range of possibilities for controlled experiments on social subject matter” (Nagel 1961, 450). And there are always the problems of probabilities in social-scientific explanation, the problems of identifying and operationalizing variables, the complexity of factors influencing human behavior or social events, etc. (Kuhn 2000; Szaniawski 1994; Taylor 1985). That is why many political science theories, despite the best methods and number crunching abilities, are often no less speculative than observations of writers, journalists, and poets.

And here we come to another point: What social sciences? What political sciences? I am sure that we both, Hill and I, see the social sciences by the prism of the best work based on sound scientific methodology. But that is not necessarily how our students (and the public for that matter) see the social sciences. For our students, social sciences can be associated as much with highly structured and methodologically rich studies in economics, psychology, or some areas of political science as with the eccentricities of Jacques Derrida, feminist theories, or even the ideological tirades of political columnists. What adds to the confusion is that social sciences and philosophy also take on another role—the one of arbiters of what exactly social sciences should be. Maybe we could start with helping students to sort out these matters.