ejemplo investigación cualitativa-becher

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Ejemplo de Investigacin Cualitativa

El siguiente artculo fue tomado de Studies in Higher Education, marzo 1990,vol. 15(1). Es propiedad de esta publicacin y debe citarse como tal.

Title: Physicists on physicsAuthors:Becher, TonySource:Studies in Higher Education; Mar90, Vol. 15 Issue 1, p3, 18pDocument Type:ArticleSubject Terms:PHYSICISTSAbstract:Offers an ethnographic account of the community of academic physicists.

Nature of the discipline; Epistemological issues; Physics as an academiccareer; Practice of physics; Trading in ideas; Physicists as people; Conclusions.ISSN:03075079

PHYSICISTS ON PHYSICS

ABSTRACT. This paper offers an ethnographic account of the community ofacademic physicists. It seeks, on the basis of interviews with key informants, toconstruct a picture of what physics is like as a discipline; what features of its

epistemology serve to differentiate it from other disciplines, and whatcharacterises the disciplinary community itself, in terms of its career structure,value-system and preferred modes of communication. In conclusion, an attemptis made to identify the physicist's world-view.

IntroductionAmongst all the academic disciplines, physics is unquestionably the one whichhas been most extensively studied. Sociologists and historians of science alikehave taken it as the paradigm of scientific--indeed, sometimes of all intellectual--enquiry. Kuhn's well-known and widely-quoted Structure of ScientificRevolutions (Kuhn, 1962, 1970) is based on a bold generalisation from the

exploration of how physics as a discipline evolved, to a general claim about thenature of scientific research (including that in the biological sciences). Detailedsociological studies of physics communities--and particularly the glamoroussub-field of high energy physics--include those by Gaston (1973), Pickering(1984) and Traweek (1982), though there are many other researchers usingphysics as a basis of comparison with other disciplines, or as a vehicle foradvancing some particular thesis. One of the more recent reviews of how thediscipline appears to those who practice it is to be found in Doorman (1989).

It might seem, therefore, as if there is little scope for further discussion of theworld of the physicist. The present paper, however, has a different origin andpurpose from those quoted above. Accounts written by historians andsociologists concentrate on physicists as the members of an academic


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community in their own right; those written by physicists focus on the nature ofthe subject per se. My own approach has attempted to combine the two,adopting the perspective of a philosopher interested in the knowledge field ofthe discipline, tempered with the aspirations of an anthropologist concerned tounderstand how the nature of that knowledge field impinges on the lifestyle and

values of the academic community engaged in its study.

The enquiry was conducted as one element of a wider comparativeinvestigation of the relationships between knowledge forms and knowledgecommunities (Becher, 1989a). The text provides an interesting contrast with thatof a similarly-designed account of `Historians on history' (Becher, 1989b). Aswith the earlier paper, the findings are based on a series of semi-structured in-depth interviews with practitioners in a number of different specialist areas ofthe subject. Because the data base is confined to a relatively small number ofrespondents and seeks only to represent their individual and collective views, acritical reader will doubtless be able to identify a number of significant issues

which are not addressed. But I hope the study may be of relevance not only tothose with a particular interest in physics or those having a wider concern withdisciplinary cultures, but also to fellow researchers in higher education, as afurther example of the type of "intermediate research technology" described inthe earlier companion paper on historians.

The account which follows is based on the testimony of 20 university physicistsdistributed between three institutions: the University of Bristol, Imperial College,London, and the University of California at Berkeley (the results of three pilotinterviews at the University of Sussex have also been taken into account). Theaverage length of the interviews was about one and a half hours. The physicistsconcerned were at different stages in their careers, and ranged from doctoralstudents to senior professors (five junior, eight senior and seven in the broadmiddle-range). It should be borne in mind that they were talking to an outsiderto the subject, and that the analysis, interpretation and subsequent synthesis oftheir remarks have been carried out by the same outsider. It should also beremarked that there has been no opportunity, within the scope of the study sofar, to match belief and assertion against actual practice.

All the major points have been independently corroborated by three or morepeople. Although many statements on points of detail are based on the

evidence of a single witness, the text as a whole has been subject to a furtherstage of validation. A preliminary draft was circulated with a request for criticalcomment to all who took part in the initial interviews. Fourteen out of 20 replied(most of whom had no substantial reservation to make). Their many suggestedamendments of matters of fact or interpretation have, where possible, beenincorporated into the main text or included as qualifying footnotes (the term`commentator' is used to distinguish the sources of this written comment, theterms `respondent' or `interviewee' being reserved for those contributing oralinformation at an earlier stage in the exercise). Some further and morefundamental issues raised in correspondence about the original draft areexamined in the concluding section of the paper.

1. The Nature of the Discipline


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A primary characteristic of physics, as seen by its practitioners, is thefundamental nature of its problems. It seeks to develop models of naturalphenomena by the use of mathematical techniques: but it is "the concepts andtheir relationship with each other and with reality which is at the heart of the

subject". In this sense, the discipline is sophisticated even where its subject-matter is basically simple: "it has a small vocabulary, but a strong sense ofgrammar". Over the years, however, physics has developed to encompasscomplex, as well as simple, phenomena, and to embrace interdisciplinary andapplied areas. It can thus also be seen as "the most open of the scientificdisciplines", presenting no single view of reality but different views at differenttimes and in different contexts. To compound the difficulties, the borders withneighbouring subjects are not sharply drawn, and it is sometimes hard to decidewhether someone is really doing physics or not.

The sense of change and development, though constant, is not necessarily

continuous: one physicist discerned a pattern of lulls and wholesale revisions inthe history of the subject. Where some saw the discipline unfolding itself in alogical way [ 1], others argued that its shape was determined as much by socialas by conceptual forces. Thus, the decline of some specialisms might soon bebrought about by the public's refusal to meet the escalating costs of researchrather than by arrival at some intellectual dead end. But if particular fields mightatrophy or fall out of favour, there could be no question that physics, as such,would remain alive: there must always be major problems to solve, new insightsto achieve and new unifying theories to establish.

The discipline as a whole is more than merely the sum of its parts. The sense ofidentity which holds the subject together was seen by some as a "theism" or a"quasi-religious belief" which could not have much bearing on everydaypractice. Others, somewhat more prosaically, referred to the commonfoundations in history and the common core in the undergraduate syllabus; tothe mobility which exists between specialisms; and even to the sharing ofapparatus between different groups, which lends a kind of functional unity. Onesceptic maintained that the only thing all academic physicists had in commonwas a good physics teacher at school. But even those respondents whostressed the overriding sense of kinship among physicists, the sharedintellectual style and the mutuality of interests, were ready to acknowledge the

difficulties of intercommunication between different specialisms, and thetendency for the community to become more and more fragmented asknowledge advances.

This fragmentation is exemplified by some of the major occupational divisionsamong physicists, and, particularly, between those working in differentbranches of the subject. Another case in point is the distinction betweentheoreticians and experimentalists. Within any particular specialism, the twogroups may be closely interdependent, accepting the same underlyingprinciples. Nevertheless, they are trained differently, work in different ways andhave divergent interests. In the UK at least (though this is less true of the USA)

there is very little migration between them. There can, at times, be a sense ofmutual rivalry (illustrated in the comment that the experimentalists "have to


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produce the meat which the theoreticians then pick"). There are furtherdifferences within each broad category. The design of experiments may call forvery different talents from those required for the actual exploitation ofapparatus. Again, axiom theorists, working at a level of abstraction far removedfrom experimental results, can be clearly distinguished from phenomenologists,

who start with the experimental data and thence try to generate plausiblehypotheses for further theoretical or experimental investigation.

Parts of theoretical physics are closely related to mathematics, and there canbe relatively easy transfer between the two. Mathematicians are seen as morerigorous in their approach, but lacking in the concern with reality whichcharacterises all physicists, however pure. It is this sense of concreteness, ofphenomenological reality, which leads many physicists to hold their subjectsuperior to one which involves "making chicken scratches on paper". There arealso links of a different kind between physics and other branches of science.Along one line of argument, the other scientific disciplines are claimed to stem

from physics: it contributes to them without getting much in return; it is moreintellectual and less utilitarian than they are. Along another line of argument,there are areas of interdisciplinary convergence and overlap, as in theinvestigation of the structures of proteins (with biology) or in the study of solid-state materials (with engineering). Nevertheless, outside the border zones thecontrasts are clear. For example, biology deals generally with more complexsubject-matter, is less quantitative, uses different tools and employs differentways of thinking. Again, chemistry tends to be regarded as narrow rather thandeep; as rule-bound and factual; as not a natural philosophy in the full sense.

Physics was the only discipline among those investigated (which also includedbiology, history, law, mechanical engineering and sociology) whosepractitioners acknowledged hierarchies of esteem, both within the discipline andoutside it. Thus, even if in a half-joking way, pure theorists look down onphenomenologists. The ladder of specialism runs down from theoretical particlephysics to experimental particle physics, thence to solid-state and otherbranches of fundamental experimental physics, and finally to areas in appliedphysics such as metallurgy. Taking the subject as a whole, there would seem tobe some disagreement about whether mathematics and philosophy comehigher or lower in the pecking order than does physics, but the latter standsclearly above chemistry and biology, with chemical engineering next, then

engineering: geography and the social sciences are placed firmly beyond thepale. One respondent explained, "there is nothing crude and overt about thesnobbery involved: it is a bit akin to a Cambridge person talking to a non-Cambridge person" ("that", riposted someone else, "goes much too far for me").As other respondents pointed out, while such subjective views exist, they do notnecessarily reflect the current realities. One went on to add "we all have tomaintain that our own discipline is the most important thing, even if in our heartswe may suspect that it isn't". Another, an applied physicist, objected to thewhole notion of such implicit hierarchies, commenting that "Status in the worldoutside is measured by materialistic things, possession of which is determinedby personal wealth, and . . . depends on the demand for one's services as a

consultant to industry. For this reason, experimentalists are likely to have farhigher worldly status than theoreticians. Status within the physics profession is


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set by things like the frequency of invitations abroad, and, again, I thinkexperimentalists have the edge".

2. Epistemological Issues

Part of the difficulty of mapping the shape of physics lies in the apparentreluctance of physicists to reflect on, and classify, their own activities. As oneinterviewee explained, the typical physicist's approach is pragmatic and ad hocrather than philosophical: things do not just have to look neat (important thoughthat is), they have to work. Physicists do not like imposing categories ofexplanation on what people do, because that does not get you anywhere [ 2].Nevertheless, it proved possible to glean some insights into the nature ofknowledge within the discipline through the incidental comments of thoseparticipating in the study, and through attention to some commonly used termsof praise and blame.

One important requirement in tackling any given problem is a background ofexperience, which can help in the choice of approach and which can offer somesense of direction. A few respondents also suggested the need for the lesstangible qualities of imagination, inspiration and intuition. The value of familiaritywith the immediate context of a problem is underlined by those who haveexperienced its absence. Although, for a physicist entering a completely newfield, it is relatively easy to learn the essentials, it is less easy--lacking both "afeel of right and wrong" and a knowledge of what is going on elsewhere--toachieve good results. But as against this, such an individual is not "blinkered byfolklore", and may consequently see solutions to which others are blind.

Discovery itself is a process rather than an event: it does not occur in a cut-and-dried way at a well-defined moment, but is spread over time. The confirmationof a finding may come partly in the process of writing it up (when any gaps inthe argument tend to become obvious, and when the loose ends have to betied); and partly in its exposure to the critical reactions of colleagues.Nevertheless, there is often a distinct point at which you know when you areright: it may be variously described as "a feeling in the bones", "a gut feeling", "aphysical insight". This conviction of rightness--even if it turns out to bemistaken--can be very satisfying. Often, you can see the way ahead and knowwhat sort of answer you are going to get, because the subject has a well-

defined methodology and a clear mathematical base. Similarly, with the work ofothers it is possible to know that someone else is wrong and to think that youknow the answer, or to recognise a solution that "feels right and makes thingsclick into place".

The notion of a "sense of fit" is an important one in appraising solutions--notmerely a fit with experimental results (though that is crucial) but also with awider theoretical framework. It is a useful rule-of-thumb that if an argumentworks well in one case it can be expected to work well in another. Accordingly,you try to find new mathematical tools which can be applied to different parts ofphysics, and new applications for existing tools. Analogy is thus a vital weapon

in the physicist's armoury--though it has to be carefully handled, sincepromising similarities will sometimes turn out to be approximate or incomplete.


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But there is a criterion more important perhaps than structural similarity withother areas of physics (which is itself an aspect of "an economical solution"):namely, the property of elegance. It seems almost an article of faith, related tothe physicist's belief in the unity and simplicity of nature (of which more later),that the right answer is always the neatest among two or more apparently valid

interpretations of the same phenomena. Complicated solutions are suspect: theideal explanation "can be put in one sentence".

The outsider's view that physics deals with certainties is not shared byphysicists themselves. At one level, there is "the uncertainty forced on us bytwentieth-century physics, so that we are not sure whether the things we talkabout are . . . `really there'". At another, "in most problems progress can only bemade by first simplifying the problem, by neglecting some effects, averagingover others, and so on. Conclusions based on these approximations can wellbe erroneous, hence an uncertainty. Different approaches to a problem mayhave different approximations implicit in them, so conclusions may differ and

comparisons.. .may not be easy". Even when physicists are prepared toconcede the existence of "definitive solutions", they are emphatic that largetracts of the subject--particularly those near the boundaries of understanding,and, in a different way, those on the frontiers of practical application--allowscope for the provisional and the speculative ("in particle physics, anything yousay is an assumption"). Although it may be legitimate in one's undergraduateteaching to present results as unequivocal, or at least to discuss problems forwhich an exact solution is possible ("you have to make life bearable for thestudents"), every researcher has the right to question any theory or assertion,however widely believed. It is tempting to redefine certainty itself as the productof professional agreement, and to speak of "the emergence of a consensusover time", or of the "achievement of an acceptable resolution to a problem".

However, it also seems that there is little room for controversy within physics--an observation which would appear to run counter to the interpretation,advanced by some respondents, of certainty as dependent on context. Suchdisagreement as exists is focused on differing schools of thought, rivalmethodologies, disagreements over the interpretation of results, personal feuds(which "do not affect the development of the subject, and have only a localrelevance") and a few major unresolved issues--for example, how gravitation isbest explained [ 3]. After a major conceptual revolution the extent of

disagreement will increase, not unexpectedly. Nevertheless, there is more tosettling a dispute than merely winning over the majority to one's side--as can beillustrated by the strong initial opposition to Heisenberg's uncertaintly principle,an opposition which was eventually toppled by sheer weight of evidence."Physics is a law unto itself--you can't bend it." Ideological considerations areirrelevant, except, perhaps, in determining one's initial hypotheses. Conflicts ofworld-view tend "to come out in a speculative rather than a workaday context".At a more subtle level, though, it is possible to point to an interplay between aphysicist's professional judgement, his wider views about physics and hisgeneral philosophy of life.

There is one clear respect in which the nature of physics depends on extrinsicconsiderations. Although large areas of commonality exist, there remain


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discernible differences in the way the discipline is interpreted and practiced indifferent countries. One can meaningfully talk about "typical French papers" or"typical American papers"; and "run-of-the-mill physics in Russia is verydifferent from its counterpart in Britain". The contrasts may be attributed partlyto differences in educational systems and partly to variations in academic

career patterns. More broadly, they seem to reflect national cultures andnational characteristics. Like many generalisations, such claims tend to bebased on a few leading personalities, and also to survive even when well out-of-date. Not unexpectedly, interpretations of what the differences are also vary.Some [ 4] British academic physicists tended to portray their opposite numbersin the USA as adept at calculation and at exploiting and developing others'ideas, but as less good at experimentation or at generating ideas of their own.The Americans rejected this account, and retaliated with the claim that in theircountry physics was noticeably more aggressive than in the UK: it both offeredbetter incentives and yielded greater dividends.

But if the process of building up the subject is parochial, the corpus ofknowledge is universal: what counts as a valid finding is not dependent ongeographical or cultural considerations, and the process of establishing orrefuting a claim knows no frontiers. In experimental physics, the repetition ofothers' experiments is not the standard mode of verification, despite beingrepresented as such in philosophical discussions of scientific method.Extension and application are more common than replication, though theoccasional surprising (and apparently far-reaching) result which challenges aprevailing theory will certainly be checked by others. If a claim seemssuspicious one looks for negative evidence, but not necessarily within theframework of the original argument. In cases where experimentation is costlyand elaborate, a useful check may be to seek out instances of the samegeneral phenomenon in other contexts. Generally, one starts by trusting others'results and building on them: it is only if the consequences are unsatisfactorythat it is necessary to go back and repeat the original investigation. Onecommon reason for carrying out someone else's experiment for a second timeis to understand it fully before pushing the conclusions further; another is to testout one's own apparatus before embarking on a consequential investigation ("itis important to be sure you are using the same language, including scales andreference points"). It nevertheless remains the case that, if one has a stronghunch that somebody else's results are wrong, a convincing demonstration of

its errors can enhance one's reputation as a careful experimenter.

The process of accepting a novel idea or finding is somewhat paradoxical. Onthe one hand, "as a physicist you have to be open to the unexpected"; on theother, "people don't like their existing ideas unsettled". In consequence, it is rarefor a major advance to win immediate acceptance. Recognition may be delayed("it takes time to realise the importance of new ideas"); credit is liable to beretrospective. The passage of time has other effects. Someone who carved outa new field, even a few years ago, may be forgotten today; once-startlingdiscoveries soon lose their impact and are taken for granted. Nevertheless,even dated ideas "are always with us": they "get archived" and are added to

what one physicist called "the burden of conceptual baggage inherited from ourpredecessors".


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The terms of appraisal used by physicists throw interesting sidelights on thelogic of enquiry within the discipline. It has already been noted that elegance ina solution is a high virtue, and that economy of explanation is also seen aspraiseworthy. "Productive work" is another characteristic concept, denoting a

piece of investigation which creates new possibilities for further research--thatis, opens up a fresh range of issues or suggests a novel approach to existingproblems. The kindred notion of "a powerful method" acknowledges a techniquewhich can be applied across a broad spectrum of the subject-matter and whichseems at the same time to have a penetrating quality. "Sloppy" is thecommonest term of condemnation, indicating a piece of work which lacks thedesirable qualities of neatness and simplicity and the necessary qualities ofthoroughness and reliability. "Rigorous" is a somewhat backhandedcompliment, carrying connotations of a narrowly mathematical approach whichlacks imagination and misses the sense of physical reality. Perhaps because ofthe fast-moving quality of many areas of physics, the terms "masterly" and

"scholarly" seem altogether inappropriate--and indeed are never used in thiscontext.

3. Physics as an Academic Career

There are now very limited job opportunities in academic physics. Any aspiringentrant to the profession has to be "very good and very dedicated". Becausemost will not make it, prudence suggests a specialisation which is marketable inthe industrial world--it is easier to get outside jobs as an experimentalist, andsolid-state physics seems, at the moment, a particularly good bet. Some peoplefind that they have little choice but to drop out after the first or secondpostdoctoral appointment in their late twenties: but for those who are toughenough to survive, to get tenure and to go on fighting for recognition, "physicsoffers lots of scope as a career". Many graduates find the battle a daunting onein prospect, and physics departments accordingly find some difficulty inrecruiting PhD students.

Qualities of personality are more important than the layman might suppose:"you have to throw your weight around and assert yourself intellectually". In alarge group (as in particle physics), intellectual style counts for at least as muchas professional ability. The great men in physics (who are not necessarily

identical with the great physicists) have personal and moral qualities which aremore important than mere skills and techniques. According to a number ofthose interviewed, one basic (though not particularly moral) attribute isruthlessness: it also helps if you are aggressive and authoritarian [ 5]. In certainfields, "the two most important qualities--apart from a modicum of intelligence--are stamina and the ability to persuade other people to do things". But thoughsuch qualities may be necessary, they are not sufficient: along with everythingelse you have to be independent-minded and capable of "getting to the root ofissues".

Physics allows room for a wide variety of talents, and there is "a complete range

of characters in the trade". It is easy enough to choose a field to match one'sown temperament, and graduate students commonly consider the different


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modes of working when they select their research topic--as do those whochange emphasis in mid-career. Mobility is, on the whole, a desirable quality--"you need to keep your interest fresh"; "productive people shouldn't do thesame thing for too long"--though it is easier for theoreticians than forexperimentalists, and easier for young experimentalists than for older ones.

Changes of career emphasis are, however, seldom arbitrary: most people are"guided by a continuity of theoretical development".

Following a would-be academic physicist through his or her career, there is firsta clear (though increasingly disregarded) prohibition on incest. If a promisingundergraduate is given a postgraduate place in his or her institution (which isalready dubious practice), he or she would generally expect to be awarded apostdoctoral post elsewhere. If this taboo is flouted, the likely penalty is that thephysicist concerned will be narrow and inbred. Even so, at a time when fewgood students stay on, the temptation to keep hold of them must be strong. Thepatronage of one's mentors at the doctoral and postdoctoral stage can be

important--particularly if they are prominent in the field--though "you have to begood as well". Certainly, at the point of final selection for a junior teaching postor for tenure, it helps if one's candidacy is supported by a leading figure, eventhough that individual may be somewhat out of touch with the youngergeneration of researchers. It is useful to have a multiplicity of patrons, because"people tend to be wary of a good reference from only one person".

Postgraduates in physics, unlike those in a number of other disciplines, are notin a position to identify their own research topics because they lack thenecessary contextual knowledge. They do, of course, have to select theirresearch field and hence their supervisor, but the latter will normally make thechoice of specialist topic for them--not a light responsibility, since the level ofdifficulty has to be right and the problem has to lead somewhere, or at least becapable of resolution. One or two postgraduates expressed resentment at"being used as slave labour" and at having their supervisors' names attached topapers they had written. Practice here appears to vary widely, as does itsjustification. Some argued that it was fair recognition, given the supervisor's partin specifying the problem and guiding its solution. Others suggested that it wasa means of guaranteeing the validity of research done by an unknown worker("not", as someone pointed out, "a strong argument"). Others again took themore cynical view that it was a tithe for services provided and a handy way of

swelling the supervisor's publication list. It is rare ("but not that rare") fortheoretical physicists to claim credit in this direct way for their junior colleagues'work, though relatively common for leaders of large experimental groups to doso: the project manager may have little time for first-hand research, and mayhave to maintain his prestige and status by surrogate publication.

Aspiring academics are commonly expected to undertake one or more spells aspostdoctoral research fellows before applying for teaching posts. This is thestage at which physicists gain intellectual independence; learning to work ontheir own and discussing questions with senior colleagues rather than merelyfollowing their advice (the next major step towards intellectual maturity comes

some time later, when a junior academic takes on his or her first researchstudent). Once in a teaching job, the hurdle of tenure has to be surmounted. A


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number of respondents saw these early years as a time of fierce competition, apoint in the physicist's career where one is compelled to work on short-termproblems and publish numerous papers almost regardless of quality. Thesituation is intensified in the USA, where people may have to wait for up to 10years from first appointment before knowing whether they are to be offered a

permanency. Those who are not may choose to move "down market" to a lessprestigious institution or give up the ideal of an academic life altogether.

There is a common belief among theoreticians that, as their career advances,they will reach a peak of achievement. It is a "young man's field", a subjectwhich moves so rapidly that it is hard to change one's ideas fast enough afterone's mid-thirties. Even so, the older theoretical physicists are not necessarilyburned out, and can go on doing useful things; and there are plenty ofexceptions to the general rule. For experimentalists, there is a much lessnoticeable pattern: experience counts for a great deal, so, in general, peopletend to get better with increasing maturity. Is peaking, then, any more than a

myth? A number of respondents were sceptical about the phenomenon as awhole, suggesting that it related more to the career structure in physics (theslacking-off of competition after tenure, the promotion out of research intoacademic administration) than to any intrinsic property of the subject itself.However, these considerations apply with equal weight to experimentalists,and, indeed, to those in other disciplines without acknowledged career peaks.Moreover, the same belief about peaking is reported to be strongly held bymathematicians, whose work is similar in its nature to that of theoreticalphysicists.

It is one thing to consider the main stages in a physicist's career, and quiteanother to look at the way in which that career is conducted. One of the majorpoints of divergence seems to be between those areas of the subject which callfor collaborative activity--often on a large scale--and those where people workmainly alone. At one extreme lies experimental particle physics, where the workis normally done by large teams of 40 or more researchers. This poses a varietyof problems, especially that of the individual establishing his or her identity inthe team. Though publications will often contain the names of all members whoconsider themselves to have made a contribution, there may well be only onename associated with the team's results in the end. The normal routines forgranting tenure are clearly inapplicable in that, apart from the difficulty of

identifying the role of the individual concerned, no publication may emerge froma group for three or four years. In other experimental fields, the mode of workwill be determined largely by the nature of the problem. Collaboration--thoughon a more modest scale than in particle physics--tends to be the norm.Theoreticians, in contrast, are likely to work alone or in very small groups of twoor three: larger groupings exist, but are in effect consortia which parcel up theirlabour into a number of sub-specialisms.

However, few physicists of any persuasion are `true loners'--people working invirtual isolation from colleagues--most of whom "tend to be paranoic" and "endup as failures". Even though it is possible as an experimentalist and relatively

easy as a theoretician to pursue a solitary path, "a free-ranging intellect doesn'tusually spring from going it alone". The value of discussion with colleagues was


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universally acknowledged by those taking part in the enquiry. Talking to one'sfellow researchers "helps to keep ideas moving". Discussion can enable one toavoid a blinkered approach--interested colleagues may also spot flaws orpotential areas of duplication. Even loners "need someone to talk to to staysane". In cases where the literature is hard to understand, it pays to confront

the authors of the relevant papers and to find out exactly what they are gettingat. All in all, "there is a lot of interaction"; "physicists need each other".

Although teaching is an element in the careers of nearly all academicphysicists, it was only mentioned incidentally in the course of the presentenquiry--perhaps because it is defined by, but does not define, the nature of thediscipline. In both Britain and the USA, the undergraduate curriculum is basedlargely on the corpus of past material. This is "a kind of socialising,professionalising experience--it gives you models". Perhaps not surprisingly,some respondents positively enjoyed teaching, while others found it boring orresented the time it took up. One--referring more to postgraduate than to

undergraduate teaching--valued his relationship with students because "youcan use them as a sounding board without the fear that they will go and publishyour ideas". Another was concerned that "we don't often enough put over theexcitement of the subject to those we teach" [ 6].

4. The Practice of Physics

It is not easy for anyone pursuing a successful career as an academic physicistto be altruistic. Some respondents likened the life to that of a commercialentrepreneur: finding a gap in the market and filling it, having to sell oneself aswell as one's products. One doctoral student believed that this activity wasseparable from the research enterprise: "the business of being a tycoon doesn'treally affect your work--it is kept in a separate compartment". In contrast, othersidentified "professional tycoons" as those who rely on political skills rather thanprofessional competence to acquire positions of power. Such people--"second-rate scientists who have got into first-rank posts"--tend to "play dirty" and toalienate their colleagues.

But even that large majority of the community which puts doing physics beforepoliticking is strongly driven by a sense of competition. Sometimes, this takesthe form not so much of a race as of rivalry between approaches: "it is more

subtle than looking over your shoulder at runners on the same bit of track". It is"largely polite"; "played in a gentlemanly way". On other occasions, thecompetition is direct and intense. It "shows where the action really is", and helpsthe subject to advance quickly. Competitiveness, one might say, is inherent inthe subject: people will argue about priorities even when it doesn't matter. Ifsome areas of the discipline seem less competitive and less rapidly-movingthan others, this may have something to do with the "people:problem" ratio--theextent to which researchers are spread thinly across a large set of problems, asagainst being clustered densely around relatively few. It may also have somebasis in the knowledge structure of the field in question, and especially in theextent to which results are cumulative and sequential.

"Everyone likes an audience and thrives on acclaim". Success can be


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measured by the number of invitations one has abroad, the number ofconsultancy offers one gets; but above all, by the number of contributionspublished in prestigious journals. Some fields have industrial applications andoffer opportunities for registering patents: this can generate a breed of "seculartycoons". But ideas do not have to be patentable to give rise to a strong sense

of personal possession. People identify with their results and feel defensiveabout them. The need for acknowledgement is strong, as is the sense ofannoyance if one's findings are misquoted or misrepresented.

In an atmosphere of competition, a certain amount of sharp practice wouldseem almost inevitable. Some respondents had come across examples of"espionage, plagiarism or string-pulling" at first or second hand; others deniedtheir existence or claimed them to be "very rare". Espionage, it was claimed, "isnot the dominant form of competition". Plagiarism, according to one physicist, isperfectly legitimate--it is part of the game to take a rival's idea and try to beathim to its exploitation. A second informant, from the USA, contended that the

American system is "too open" to allow the practice to exist. A number of otherspointed out that much apparent plagiarism is inadvertent, in that it is very easyunconsciously to assimilate a notion generated by someone else and then tobuild on it and get credit for the consequent findings. Such a process seemsmarkedly different from the one in which a physicist was sent a paper to referee,found the argument to be mistaken, and then published the correct accountunder his own name. The response of others presented with this case wasvaried. Some considered it to be dishonest and punishable by removal from thepanel of referees. Others thought that the referee in question should have putthe author right, rather than publishing on his own account. Others againregarded such publication as legitimate, provided that the original source wasfully acknowledged.

Two respondents referred to instances in which apparently reputable paperswere refused publication in journals edited by physicists of a rival school--thesolution adopted in one case was to take on the editorship of another journaland hence to create a new publication outlet. The converse practice--ofsuppressing one's findings rather than those of one's competitors--was alsomentioned. Some people emphasised the need for careful timing and theimportance of choosing the right moment to publish. It may be wise to hold backan idea if you expect to make a greater impression when it is more fully worked

out; and it may, in an applied field, be important to delay publication until thepatent rights are covered. One interviewee remarked on "a tendency to be openabout publishing last year's findings, but not this year's". It is not unknown for"laboratories to be kept locked, and progress reports to be given in a veryguarded way". In any case, it is only prudent to avoid careless talk among"colleagues who make a habit of lifting other people's ideas". An experimentalistmentioned the advantages of communicating discoveries at a meeting, whereone's rivals are unable to take down all the details; a theoretician noted aninclination for people to say as little as possible about their methods whenpublishing their conclusions.

Secretiveness is, however, clearly not the accepted norm. One physicistroundly condemned "quasi-publication" as dishonest, and another dismissed


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reticence about one's findings as "poor science, because it betrays a greaterinterest in personal credit than in the results themselves". In more pragmaticterms, a number of those interviewed pointed out the disadvantages of "sittingon your results". Someone may well beat you to publication; it is, in any case,important to make a quick impact and begin to get known in the field. Once you

are reasonably established there is a great pressure to go round givingseminars and conference papers. This makes it hard to keep your latest ideasto yourself: "if you don't say anything, people assume you've nothing to say".There is something of a sense of duty involved, too, in sharing thoughts withothers--a need to "keep physics going", a "professional responsibility topublish".

The incentives for rapid publication are reinforced by career considerations.Advancement depends very heavily, here as elsewhere, on one's publicationrecord. But such incentives are liable to conflict with another set of demandsconcerning the need to do careful work, to get things right. The result is a

certain amount of ambivalence, with some physicists emphasising the supremeimportance of priority ("speculation pays--you're praised if you're right andforgotten if you're wrong") and others insisting on the need for careful checkingbefore publication ("it is better to be right than first"; "if you jump the gun and getit wrong too often, people stop taking you seriously").

Physics, as an academic profession, is "much concerned with recognition". Butearning a reputation is a complex matter, depending on the extent to which youmeet your initial promise, on your versatility, and on your skill in avoidingsuperficiality. Dilettantes get short shrift--"people have no time to waste onfroth". The quality of what you publish matters more than the volume, and it iseven possible to make a name on a single publication. There is some measureof hit-and-miss in all this, and, at any given time, "your reputation tends to bebased on a vague feeling that you're a good chap". Where making mistakes cantarnish your image, it is not surprising that "being found to have falsified results"can destroy it altogether. That is the quickest way to "get burned as a scientist".5. Trading in IdeasProblems are the basic commodities of physics, ideas its currency andcommunication its market mechanism. Ideas take time to establish their value,and, in some fields, the lag between having a promising notion and coming upwith the eventual solution to a problem can be quite sizeable. Even where

publication is quite rapid, scientific argument tends to proceed at a relativelyslow rate. There is something like a maximum time-span of 10 years duringwhich a topic or technique will remain viable, often with a high-point after fouryears or so: though in some cases it may well come back into prominence in asubsequent generation.

A thorough knowledge of the current literature in one's specialism is generallyheld to be an advantage, if not essential. For experimentalists, it can save theduplication of existing findings; for theoreticians, it can save the effort of re-creating a methodology that has been already worked out. Because, in a highlyactive area, it is easy to become overwhelmed by the volume of literature, there

is a tendency to "keep up by gossip", ignoring most of what is written andconcentrating on the papers about which "word goes round". Those who


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regularly act as referees may use the papers sent to them as an importantsource of information. It is, of course, an advantage of having familiarity with afield that "you know where to look for most things". But while it seems to be amajority view that "you can't manage without other people's ideas, and readingthe literature will very often lift you out of a rut", there are occasional dissenting

voices. It can happen that ideas are inhibited and possibilities overlookedbecause of "the prevailing view of the invisible college". Perhaps physicists "aretold too many things, and discouraged from having funny ideas", so that few ofthem risk independent thought. The dilemma was neatly summed up by onerespondent as follows: "If I read the literature, I'll have the same ideas aseveryone else; if I don't, I'll probably have the ideas they had 10 years ago".

Networks of personal contacts are important for a variety of reasons, andpeople start building them up in their postgraduate years. Although the sizes ofsuch networks may vary considerably from one field to another (in lessfashionable areas numbering between half a dozen and a dozen people, and in

more fashionable up to a couple of hundred), the way they operate seems fairlystandard. First and foremost, they help keep one in touch with work in progresselsewhere; secondly, they offer a source of professional identity; thirdly, theyprovide contacts with people "at the cutting edge", and so indirectly enhanceone's own reputation and career prospects. It is not always easy to gain accessto an existing network, especially in fields which are popular and hard to getinto. There is sometimes a steep threshold to climb over, and you may have tolearn a considerable amount even to get a foot on this threshold. The groupmay be a cliquey one, suspicious of those who do not already belong and whodo not talk their specialist language. Even quite well-meaning referees canreject something an author has written: because they do not expect anyonewho is not a member of the club to have anything sensible to say, they areprone to overlook its significance. In specialisms where one main source ofmutual communication is through the distribution of preprints--articles circulatedin photocopied typescript form before publication--this serves to put a furtherbarrier in the way of anyone whose name is not on the mailing list [ 7].Nevertheless, anyone with determination can soon discover who are the keypeople in a given specialism, and take the important first step of contactingthem.

Preprints are only one of the devices adopted for minimising delay in the

registration of priority and in the dissemination of ideas. While there are someless densely populated specialisms in which publication delays of 18 monthsappear acceptable, in other specialisms there is an intense concern withspeedy communication. Here, "journals are always out of date". Evenperiodicals such as Physical Review Letters, specifically designed to publishbrief summaries of findings, are considered to inhibit progress if they give rise toa time-lag of as much as three months. Accordingly, much communication takesplace "on the grapevine", in private rather than publicly: through conferences,laboratory visits, staff exchanges, summer schools and workshops, seminarsand colloquia; through group newsletters, personal correspondence and fairlyfrequent long-distance telephone calls. Conference attendance varies from field

to field, and depends, to some extent, on personal inclination. However, asuccessful and active physicist in a rapidly developing specialism might expect


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to attend half a dozen or more gatherings a year in various parts of the world.Opportunities to give seminar papers can allow younger and lesser-knownpeople to begin building up a reputation and making useful contacts; summerschools are also ways of augmenting one's network, as well as ways ofacquiring a clearer understanding of the state-of-the-art in a particular subject

area.

A similar purpose can be served by review articles. In productive fields,individual papers do not remain in currency long, being rapidly superseded bysynoptic pieces commissioned from leading researchers. Few books are writtenin physics at the research level, most material appearing first in journal articles.There are some people who write advanced texts; quite a few who writeundergraduate texts (but these do not count for promotion, and their authors areseldom in the mainstream); some conference reports are published in bookform; and there is also the occasional edited collection on a key theme withindividual chapters by different specialists. But, because most of the central

topics are both "communal--in that you have to keep the ideas going" and fast-moving, books are not seen as a way of communicating primary information.Even writing a relatively short monograph can jeopardise the momentum ofyour research-"it is difficult to stop everything for four months, and your ongoingcommitments tend to get in the way".

In terms of professional success, the ability to identify a good problem is animportant asset to any physicist. However, there is again an ambiguity herebetween "picking problems because they will serve your career, and working ona really worthwhile topic". There are those who maintain that "shrewd scientists. . . tackle questions with a readily publishable answer, taking no risks"; or that"if you can't get a solution, you should change the problem--it's sensible totackle the things you can just do". As against this, others commend the strategyof going for the major, worthwhile issues: "Einstein had no time for those wholooked for the thinnest bit of wood and bored a small hole in it". Perhaps,though, it is of the essence of physics to "break the subject into puzzles" and to"start by tackling the fringes". Certainly, becoming involved with long-termproblems represents a substantial career gamble: "the advances are nearlyalways small, and big jumps in understanding are rare".

Physicists who concentrate on getting solutions to fundamental questions but

who ignore matters of detail are sometimes known as `cream-skimmers'. Theyare not necessarily to be condemned: "you have to be sharp to do it", and it canbe valuable in providing follow-up material for postgraduates and others--"merebotanists"--who go in for sorting out the implications of other peoples' findings.But there is, nonetheless, some ambivalence about skimming the cream. Youcannot get away with a "quick and dirty" solution--"you have to do a nice job,getting at the essentials, and not merely produce a glib and superficial account".

Fashions clearly exist. Two respondents (both, as it happened, theoreticians)objected that the word "fashion" was "not a nice one" and sounded derogatory;but both acknowledged that there were "areas of current concentration". Some

respondents emphasised that it was not intellectually dishonest to followfashion--indeed, in areas such as fundamental particle physics there was no


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option, because the necessary apparatus was so costly and hard of access. Inany case, the direction of fashionable change was not arbitrary, as it dependedon recent fundamental advances or the discovery of interesting newphenomena. But there were also those who complained that fashions oftenaffected the development of physics for the worse, distorting progress and

distracting attention from important areas and profound questions. One onlyhad a delusion of progress from jumping on the bandwagon: people interestedin current fads were liable to spend their time in futile mutual back-slapping."The big advances don't seem to have much to do with fashion--they can oftenbe ascribed to a single person and a single paper". Perhaps it is fair toconclude, as one respondent did, that "the shape of the subject is a mixture ofnatural progression and historical accident".

Those who set the pace in any field may play a strong part in determining thecurrent agenda. "Looking at solid-state physics makes you think of packs ofwolves following their leader and pursuing their next quarry"; "particle physics

brings out strong authoritarian leaders". Another main determinant of fashion isprovided by the grant-giving agencies--the work people do depends on what willattract funds. Good public relations are a necessary, though not a sufficient,criterion of career advancement in some specialisms--there is a need for careful"impression management" with those who award research monies. Once agrant has been made, however, it is considered to be quite in order for "at least30% of your funds to be used for other purposes", provided that you "deliver thegoods and give value for money". This flexibility is legitimate because "you can'tdirect physics--you have to back people, not proposals". Even when the fundingagency tries to exercise strict control (as Research Councils do), it is notunknown for a significant proportion of the proposed study to be done beforethe grant is awarded, and for the latter part of the funding period to be spentworking out a proposal for continuation or further development.

6. Physicists as People

There is no such thing as a typical physicist--they range "from the myopic boffinto the worldly-wise entrepreneur". A certain number of physicists might bedescribed as "introverted show-offs", because the subject "tends to attractpeople who are not socially able, and to offer them an escape into objectivity".Such "social escapists . . . have to be extra clever to compensate for their

inadequacy". But where some individuals may be designated as "good at ideasrather than people", there are plenty of others who are "good manipulators".Nearly everyone is "out there in the arena". Some physicists see themselves asradical in both political and temperamental terms, but this is not a characteristicto which the majority would admit.

There is a shared belief in the unity and simplicity of nature. You come acrosspatterns which seem to fit in with rational thought: it is as though nature hadbeen designed by a rational being [ 8]. The belief that nature behaves rationallyis, indeed, "an item of faith for most physicists". Studying the subject helps youto "understand profound simplicities and gain a sense of harmony and

structure". This sense that "you are really understanding important things" isone of the most valued aspects of being a physicist. It is related to the


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contention that, in the end, everything is understandable: even in apparentlyintractable areas someone will eventually come along with a theory which willmake things fall neatly into place. One respondent offered this consciousparody of the prevailing view: "The physicist is someone who has a firm graspof important concepts and laws. He is willing to have a go at almost any

problem. He is able to beam a powerful knowledge of physics at the problemsof the physical world and by that means solve them. Physicists are men (theemphasis is deliberate) of high intellect, which they apply to a diversity ofissues: they are the mercenaries of the mind".

The ability to solve problems, and the confidence which this engenders, helpsto explain another pair of closely-related characteristics commonly attributed tothemselves by physicists--namely, arrogance and elitism. Physicists arearrogant because they see other disciplines as inferior and feel that they arespecially privileged in being able to make sense of things. As one graduatestudent put it: "If we are arrogant, we are rightfully so. Physicists not only have

to be very intelligent, but have to have something more--a tremendous claritywhich it is hard to cultivate". The elitism also derives from the conviction that tobe a physicist is to have a rare and valuable set of skills. "The field is one whichthe people in it see as very special, and you have to keep on earning yourmembership of it". Within the discipline itself, there is little sense of hierarchy:perhaps because "as one of the elect, you are the hierarchy". Although "the bignames are inevitably more prestigious", on the whole, physics departments are"democratic and relaxed".

The need remarked earlier (see Section 3), to discuss one's ideas withcolleagues, gives rise to a gregarious academic community. Physics is "a socialactivity". It involves "a good deal of matinees", a "sense of camaraderie andfriendly competition--though it can get nasty at times". Within any givenspecialism there is a strong tendency to "talk shop". Unfortunately, the nature ofthe discussion is exclusive, and, even at the undergraduate level, "physicistsdon't socialise much with students in other subjects". As a result, "outsiderstend to think of physicists as boring" and as "more monomaniac than people inother disciplines". They tend to become "fanatical, dedicated and obsessed withwork": whether this necessarily entails narrow-mindedness is a matter ofdisagreement. Some physicists ("but only some"), it was said, have very fewoutside interests--they are "unprepared to think about other things" [ 9]. But

others claimed a diversity of spare-time activities, mostly in the arts. Listening toand making music, going to the theatre, and visiting museums and art gallerieswere among the common recreations mentioned by interviewees (without anyprompting, since the study did not attempt to enquire into people's private, asopposed to their professional, lives).

The physicists' strong sense of professional involvement results, in a large part,from the competitive nature of the discipline. It is an intellectually difficult field, inwhich "you have a hard slog to keep ahead"; you are "always under pressure,though you have to stop letting it get on top of you or you stop enjoying yourwork". To survive, you have to be "good, dedicated and determined". For many

people, it is difficult to leave their work behind because they become soinvolved in it ("I live my physics"). Some "see everything from a physics point of


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view, 24 hours a day". It is hard to switch off, and people often work in theevenings and at weekends--in some departments the labs are seldom empty.As a result, "you may feel guilty about not seeing enough of your wife andchildren", even though "the physics community rewards the sacrifices you makeof your family and yourself".

On balance, the life is nonetheless a good one, despite its moments of boredom(candidates here included routine teaching, large computing runs, having towrite up results) and frustration (research snags, administrative chores). Thereis much to enjoy--especially the freedom of academic life and the scope tochoose a congenial research area. Experimentalists in particular have a furthercareer option outside physics itself, namely high-level administration. Theirtraining in "man-money management" makes them efficient operators, confidentof success and able to move comfortably into senior posts in industry oracademia.

Links with the outside world take a variety of forms. Some physicists play anactive role in issues of science policy--partly, perhaps, because they tend to be"flexible people, ready to turn their attention to other things", but partly alsobecause they recognise that it is important to win public support for theiractivities. A sizeable number become caught up with military and otherclassified research [ 10]. Though there are those who repudiate such activity orfeel uncomfortable about it, the realists are able to point out that the subject hasbenefited from its dose wartime and post-war involvement with governments,especially in terms of additional research funds and a large increase in thenumber of posts for physicists. Then again, it is the physicists who tend todominate the agencies and associations concerned with social responsibility inscience. Several competing explanations were offered for this phenomenon.Many respondents put it down to "a sense of tribal guilt, arising from the atomicbomb and other misapplications of science"--perhaps "a generational thing", notfelt by younger physicists. Others repudiated this: the involvement, it wasvariously said, stems from the greater social and political awareness ofphysicists when compared with other scientists; from the fact that they arereadily able to transfer their skills at problem-solving, believe that solutionsexist, and are confident of getting the right answers; or even from the quality ofphysics itself, which "encompasses more of the world" than other disciplines.Among the cynics, one suggested that the social responsibility in science

movement was popular with physicists because "it offers a high status slot forthose who are played out--it lets them indulge their social consciences andexcuses them from doing real science".

A number of interviewees referred to the "excitement, elation and enthusiasm"to which the subject can give rise. This provides a powerful incentive forkeeping going with one's research. While a small proportion maintained thatemotional engagement is uncommon ("the satisfaction is intellectual, notemotional--you never get `turned on' as some people do by music"), themajority claimed to experience sharp feelings of both pain and pleasure. Therewere the senses of isolation and hurt feelings, caused by adverse reactions

from colleagues; the acute frustration when a problem proved intractable orsomeone else beat you to publication; the pervasive state of gloom and


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depression when things in general were going badly. But there was also the"great feeling" when you made a breakthrough; the "wonderful sensation" ofcoming to understand something, the lasting admiration of "the beauty in thesubject and the eternity in its ideas". "Physics", someone said, "is like your firstlove: you never seem to get over it" [ 11].

7. Concluding Comments

How far can it be said that this attempt to interpret 20 interviews with physicistsin three institutions succeeds in delineating the culture of their discipline? Atone level, it can at least be claimed that 10 of the people interviewed did notsee anything substantially amiss with the draft paper they were sent. Most ofthem used such general phrases as "it feels more or less right"; "it provides afair picture of physicists and their behaviour"; or "I find the whole a nicesummary of the internal contradictions of the subject and its ethics . . . thewhole does ring true, and the atmosphere is nicely described". Taking up this

last comment, one commentator wrote "you have encapsulated the diverse andoften contradictory attitudes that I and others have about physics research",while another thought the analysis "quite convincing. . . a surprisingly detailedand evocative version of the self-image of our ghetto . . . conveying, amongother things, an authentic whiff of complacency and self-serving".

Other reactions were more cautious, or more critical. One commentator wrote,"at first reading I was both interested and impressed. When I studied [theanalysis] in more detail I was conscious of several problems, problems atdifferent levels and of different natures" (many of those mentioned have beentaken into account in the revised text). Another academic's guarded reactionwas that "in the main I do not strongly disagree with what you have written". "Icannot", observed a third, "say much . . . probably because it doesn't move memuch". A fourth took the view that "much of what you say is not peculiar tophysics . . . [it] could have been written for other scientific disciplines" (this lastcomment is not in fact borne out by the comparable studies of biology andengineering).

Three fairly specific and far-reaching questions were raised about the credibilityof the exercise. In the first place, two commentators expressed the reservationthat while they considered the account to be a recognisable one, it did not fully

reflect the particularities of their own branch of the subject. As one wrote, "I amstrongly conscious of how my own views are biased by my field . . . I thereforehesitate to follow your generalisations about physics and the workings of thecommunity. Maybe to compare physics with the other disciplines you areinvestigating it is anyway not necessary to enter into these subdivisions".Maybe it is not: but the remark provides a salutary reminder that the account is,of its nature, a composite one, and to that extent shares the crudity of anystereotype. The discipline, as has been remarked earlier, encompasses a widevariety of activities and attracts a wide range of personalities. No one physicistmay faithfully resemble the portrayal that has been offered here, even if it is areasonable description of the average physicist.

A second question ran, "Is the text on the right lines? Well, you have I think


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organised it roughly according to the plan by which you structured theinterviews, so that in some sense (inevitably, one supposes) the resultingaccount reflects your theoretical preconceptions. I am not entirely certain whatthese are . . . ". Nor, it should be admitted, is the writer, beyond the initial hunchthat different disciplines give rise to discernibly different forms of academic life.

Any speculation as to why this might be so, any attribution of causes andeffects, could well--it is suggested--be left until the available evidence can bereviewed as a whole. But the need at the end of the day for some explanatoryframework is not to be easily denied.

A final, related, comment was that "You have chosen to operate in three ratherprestigious university departments and have left e.g. government and industriallabs untouched, and so may have delineated the characteristics of a subculture,albeit an elite subculture. . .What you have is an account of how a certain elitegroup of physicists represent their practice to themselves (not quite literally tothemselves, but to a sympathetically unobtrusive listener); a good piece of

reportage, but at what point does this become interesting . . . ? A wider contextfor interpretation is needed". This criticism bites deep. The only obviousresponses are that prestigious groups are more likely than others to set thepace and determine the norms of the profession, even if such norms are not, inpractice, widely observed by those outside the academic establishment; andthat in any enquiry a start needs to be made somewhere, even if it is only astart, and demands to be followed up more extensively. It is surely to be hopedthat it can.

Correspondence: Professor R. A. Becher, University of Sussex, Falmer,Brighton, Sussex BN1 9RF, United Kingdom.NOTES[1] A comment: "The topics mainly studied can no doubt be seen in anhistorical, or technological, or sociological context and logical connectionsthereby discerned. I don't dunk however chat it is the topics chat make thephysics, but rather the approach".

[2]The point is needy illustrated by one comment: "I do regard such sociologicalwritings rather as a waste of time. Physicists are more or less like any ochergroup of people, and if there are differences, so what?".

[3]One theoretician doubted the relevance of this example, remarking chat "theissue does not seem to me to be controversial, just ill-understood".

[4]But by no means all: as in many ocher cases the accepted view may differfrom one branch of physics to another. "In particle physics, one could argue thatboth theory and experiment have been dominated by US physicists in the past30-40 years, to the total exclusion of Europeans".

[5]A view contested by two commentators, one of whom disliked "dine hint ofsour grapes" and the ocher of whom thought it "overstated".

[6] "Let him", said one commentator, "speak for himself rather clan the


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community of physicists".

[7] "Experience in particle physics, especially among experimentalists, issomewhat different, partly because of the group structure, partly because thereis a natural focus around the centre or laboratory where the accelerator is

situated."

[8] "It is astonishing how sometimes the most bold ideas can prove to havesuch great depth. I think of the state vector in quantum mechanics, of spaceand time in Einstein's relativity . . . Such ideas are at the most fundamental levelof physics. I suppose chat in some sense they are simple although theirunderstanding may take many years."

[9]Many such comments were mirrored in the remarks made about physicistsby academics in other disciplines. The common stereotype was of people who

were "clever but narrow", "jargon-ridden", "unworldly and escapist","incomprehensible and alien", though their discipline was generally seen asprestigious, exciting, difficult and demanding.

[10]Elaborating on this point, one commentator on an earlier draft of the papercontended chat "By its nature, physics is very much linked to matters of defenceand offence. . . the links deserve a lot more prominence [than they are givenhere] . .. You could almost argue that the acid test for knowing whether one'sresearch is at the forefront of science is whether or not the military takes aninterest in it".

[11] Another commentator found this hard to take: "the suggestion.. . franklymakes me feel mawkish".

REFERENCES

BECHER, T. (1989a) Academic Tribes and Territories (Milton Keynes, OpenUniversity Press). BECHER, T. (1989b) Historians on history, Studies in HigherEducation, 14, pp. 263-278.

DOORMAN, S.J. (Ed.) (1989) Images of Science (Aldershot, Gower). GASTON,

J. (1973) Originality and Competition in Science (Chicago, University of ChicagoPress).

KUHN, T.S. (1962; 2nd edn, 1970) The Structure of Scientific Revolutions(Chicago, IL, University of Chicago Press).

PICKERING, A. (1984) Constructing Quarks (Edinburgh, Edinburgh UniversityPress).

TRAWEEK, S. (1982) Uptime, downtime, spacetime and power, unpublished

PhD thesis, University of California, Santa Cruz.


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By TONY BECHER, University of Sussex

ejemplo investigación cualitativa-becher

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