FCST was cumbersome. A committee is like a car without wheels; it will not go anywhere under its own power. It needs staff work, especially if the committee experts meet only occasionally for a day or two.

The PSAS-FCST-OST trinity gave the President's science adviser great power within the federal structure of science and technology, so much so that some Washingtonians muttered that he had become a science czar. Whether or not the noun had relevance, officials in the federal agencies knew that power in R & D matters had been congealed in the White House. Few would deny that this was now the seat of power. But the use of power was of low political visibility; both those within and without government were often in the dark about who really made decisions on R & D matters and how the process worked. The White House science affairs involved consultantships with some three hunderd specialists, but the roster of these men was held confidential by the Office of Science and Technology. An air of secrecy often surrounded the activities of the science advisory staff.

I was reminded of the parallel to Vannevar Bush's Research and Development Board (RDB) which had been his brainchild for directing military R & D in the early postwar years. Top-level committees populated by "weekend consultants" attempted to deal with the Pentagon's research and development programs, but the gap between the laboratory and the committees of RDB was too great. Furthermore, the military found ways to infiltrate RDB and to outmaneuver the Board. It was just not possible to make this committee system of R & D control work when the actual work was done in widely scattered laboratories. Thus RDB turned out to be a depressant instead of a stimulant to creative research in the Defense Department.

Imperfections in the White House science advisory mechanism will not, I believe, be resolved by patching up the present organization. Some of the defects are organic and go deep within the present makeshift structure. There is the very real question as to whether any group of part-time science advisers or fulltime lower-echelon assistants can piece together a wise national program in a privileged sanctuary isolated from contact with the public. As one reads the testimony of Wiesner, there is clear admission of the need for a vigorous interplay of the inner sanctum and the outer world, but he implies that this takes place adequately through liaison with Congress. Testifying before the House Select Committee on Government Research, Wiesner said:

"Our attempts to understand these changing patterns [of science and their impact on society] require the utmost effort and cooperation of both the expert, who can illuminate the choices and help to plot the right paths, and the layman, who in his own community and through his representatives must determine these overall objectives and their value. That is why the interest of the Congress in these areas is particularly welcome at this time. Your appreciation of the full dimensions and capabilities of our national involvement in science and technology will enhance the nation's ability to allocate its scientific and technical resources in ways that best serve national purposes."

Since the average Congressman serves as middleman between expert and layman, this double communication from expert to Congressman to layman is a dubious relay operation.

From what has gone before, it appears that the limited exposure of White House science advice to the general public places a maximum reliance upon the good sense and qualifications of the new elite. When the few decide what is good for the many, government is shaken to its democratic roots. But our society is confronted with the enigma that only a relatively few are highly specialized and they talk in a strange tongue. The public is thus forced to back science on the basis of blind faith. It really has little choice and is so isolated from decisionmaking that it does not know that it has a choice.

Recent interchanges between scientists have highlighted the fact that scientists disagree on what is good for science, so there is apt to be even more disharmony over what is good for society. Confining the matter to the area of fundamental science, we find that scientists are confronted with the necessity for making decisions on science policy. Dr. Alvin Weinberg phrased the problem as follows:

As science grows, its demands on our society's resources grow. It seems inevitable that science's demands will eventually be limited by what society can allocate to it. We shall then have to make choices. These choices are of two kinds. We shall have to choose among different, often incommensurable, fields of science between, for example, high-energy physics and oceanography or between

molecular biology and science of metals. We shall also have to choose among the different institutions that receive support for science from the governmentamong universities, governmental laboratories and industry.

Weinberg was critical of the White House machinery for making these choices; he went to the heart of the matter and focused on the criteria for making policy decisions. He defined three criteria: scientific, technologlical, and social merit. In the area of science, the postwar upsurge of research spending has been so prodigious that demand has outrun the supply of federal dollars. Thus the President's Science Advisory Committee has had to make decisions-or recommendations which are often tantamount to decisions-which alter the flow of federal funds to the various fields of basic science. For quite a number of years the gush of government money did not reach any critical mark in the reservoir of science and few outcries were heard from the scientists. But when Congress decided to squeeze back on federal support, rifts began to appear in the domain of science. Weinberg proposed that the criterion of scientific merit be the extent to which a field of science contributes to its bordering areas. In other words, a field which contained within itself the fruits of its research would merit less support than one which scattered fertile seeds to neighboring areas. This criterion, although wise in its formulation, is not easy to implement. It involves advance information on experiments or at least prejudgment of their outcome. On this basis no government dollars would flow to really radical ideas or to "way-out" scientists like Albert Einstein. One would need a committee of Einsteins which would probably admit that it could not give any worthwhile advice. It strikes me that it is absurd even to attempt to mastermind science by a topechelon committee at the White House level. The existing science advisory structure is already top-heavy and too far removed from the creative zones of research. Science has grown so rapidly that the government has responded by patching up its administrative structure rather than by attempting any basic reforms. The fundamental goals of expanding human knowledge and capitalizing on creativity through research can be realized most effectively if the centers of scientific research are kept as free and as healthy as possible. The whole purpose of pumping over $2 billion each year into the body of basic science is to ensure that our country preserve its vitality and never falter in fostering innovation on a wide front. As Norbert Wiener summed up shortly before his death: The purpose of science in society is to enable us to react homeostatically to the vicissitudes of the future. This future is, however, not one which we can completely foresee beyond a certain very limited point, which moves ahead in time as our experience moves ahead. This being the case, we must always possess a much larger stock of information concerning the environment, physical, medical and social, than we shall probably use in any particular course of history. It is of the utmost importance to our safety against the vicissitudes of the future that this stock of fundamental scientific information be kept extremely wide. On this view, the United States pays out its money for basic research as an insurance premium. Most scientists are in agreement that the university environment is most favorable to the flourishing of basic research. The federal government recognizes this fact and it has not been stingy in its support of research on campus. But because of the many agencies handing out funds the large universities face a veritable blizzard of paperwork for the many separate projects which are funded by separate agencies, each of which demands its own accounting and often makes laboratories into private empires which are wasteful and inefficient. If the government trusts the individual colleges, institutes, and universities to do basic research, it would seem appropriate for the government to trust them to decide how funds might be allocated most wisely. Rather than have a large university's research effort multisected by conflicting contractual lines, it would be better to have lump-sum awards to the university and allow that institution to decide how the research funds should be split up. Such a proposal is not apt to warm the cardiac cockles of many a university president who would far rather have somebody off-campus make the research decisions, but it would bring the decision-making close to the core of creativity. Furthermore, it would inhibit the untoward growth of campus empires which produce a distorted research program. At the same time one can slice off a big section of bureaucratic fat that has bulged around the midriff of federal agencies concerned with administering research contracts. It would diminish the wheeling and dealing of scientistpromoters who have won large R & D contracts through their Washington contacts.

Since such lump-sum support of research would bypass the separate government agencies, I believe that the awards ought to be made from a single central 33-257-69- -30

source. A logical agency for such activity would be a Department of Science whose head would be of cabinet rank. He would make funds available to educational institutions on a formula which would encourage participation by the various states. For example, half of the funds might be outright grants and half might be awarded on the basis of matching funds supplied by the state. A single uniform method of accounting would be adopted by the Department of Science, thus cutting through the maze of record-keeping and contractual red tape of the present agencies.

An advantage of concentrating responsibility for basic research in one Department of Science would be that the Secretary would be politically visible and accountable to the public. The over-all research program of the United States would be a matter of public record, for the Secretary would be required to make a comprehensive annual report on the state of science in the nation. No such accounting is now made to the American public nor does one appear to be entertained by the science advisory setup in the White House. One could see, for example, the balance between research done by lump-sum awards to educational institutions and that done within the framework of the government agencies, both within federal laboratories such as the National Bureau of Standards and in places like the Brookhaven National Laboratory.

The new Department of Science would have responsibility for all basic research carried out within the government. Actually it was not until 1964 that a highlevel study group began to appreciate how many research laboratories were in existence throughout the government. It discovered that there were approximately 150 (the exact number was in doubt) laboratories owned or operated by the government. Little real interrelation of these research centers was in evidence; often some maintained an attitude of stern detachment, presumably to protect their own empires from invasion. Freedom of research is one thing, but completely self-willed activity without respect for work done elsewhere is quite a different matter. Such duplication of effort is minimized in university-based research by openness of publication and by ease of access to visitors. Isolated research laboratories such as those maintained by the Defense Department are more prone to duplication because of restricted publication and intercourse with the outside world.

Since the new Department would coordinate basic research and determine in-house priorities for its various programs, it could well absorb the functions of the Federal Council for Science and Technology (at least the research phase of FCST's role) of the President's Science Advisory Committee and of much of the Office of Science and Technology. There would be no need for a special assistant for Science and Technology since this function would be served by the Secretary of Science.

A number of illustrious scientists have opposed centralization of research within government during the course of years when a Department of Science and Technology has been debated. Dr. Roger Revelle, an outstanding oceanographer, put forth the view that "the last thing we need is a Department of Science hovering over all like the Archangel Gabriel. Science permeates—or should permeate— our entire federal structure and should not be concentrated in a single department." I would agree with Revelle if such concentration meant amassing all scientific resources into a single Pentagon of Science, a regimented bastion of tightly controlled research. But most of the scientists' objections to a Department of Science and Technology really pertains to the nine-tenths of the R & D activity which is not basic research. The proposal advanced here is that the nine-tenths remain in a status quo pending further examination of its structure. Under the new establishment for science, research would be carried out largely in the same sites as now although some consolidation might be effected. In the field of atomic research it is now apparent that some more drastic reform is necessary because the military R & D function of the Atomic Energy Commission is basically fulfilled. Huge production facilities weigh down the AEC and some should now be mothballed while the remainder are turned over to the Defense Department. The Department of Science would take over the civilian research functions of the AEC and rehabilitate the field of nuclear research. The Oak Ridge National Laboratory, for example, needs to be reoriented along new lines, perhaps of a biological nature. In general there appears to be a strategic shift in the offing which will place emphasis upon the biological sciences. This reflects both the need and the opportunity. Of the total research funds spent by the United States only a small fraction goes to bettering man's personal conditiontoward freeing him from the burden of ancient bodily afflictions. For example, it

is now estimated that one of every five Americans born today will incur an incidence of cancer. The opportunity exists for making very impressive inroads on the toll caused by disease because of three circumstances:

First, the success of modern research and development in fulfilling national security needs allows scientific manpower and resources to be dedicated to new areas. The shift from physical to biological research fits in with this turning point in U.S. research. This point will be treated in more detail in the next chapter.

Second, the great reservoir of new knowledge and techniques accumulated in the past decade largely in the area of physical research is ready to spill its riches into the bordering field of biological science.

Third, the field of biology itself is ripe for exploitation. Breakthroughs in biological knowledge have been scored at the molecular level of organization of the human cell.

The new Department of Science would serve to bring fresh approaches to research, including the possibility of the massive shift in emphasis from physical to biological science. However, this would not be done at the expense of physical research. The latter will continue to nourish contiguous areas of science and will need full fiscal sustenance.

Establishment of the new Department would require legislative action, since it would specifically abolish the present Atomic Energy Commission. It would also do away with the present National Science Foundation, transferring some of its personnel and functions to the single Department of Science. The NSF has not been a howling success by any means and it has shown an inability to deal with large-scale projects, such as Project Mohole for investigating the structure of the earth's crust through ocean-based deep drilling. Incorporating NSF's planning and support functions within the Department of Science will allow for orderly growth of pilot projects to large scale through employment of facilities like those formerly under the direction of the AEC. The Office of Naval Research which is now on the downgrade, would be merged with the new science agency as would the Office of Saline Water now under the Interior Department. The newly expanded National Bureau of Standards and the Weather Bureau would also be consolidated under the management of the single science agency. Many of these old-line bureaus have only marginal relation to their present agency management and a realignment of their administration is long overdue.

The activities of these various research centers and bureaus are jealously watched over by a score of congressional groups, most of which will be reluctant to release their reins of power. However, a concerted drive by the Administration, backed up by a solid reorganization plan for scientific research and reinforced by data to show how operating costs may be reduced, would be difficult for Congress to buck. Scientific projects and research facilities have grown like Topsy since the war and it would be most startling if the administrative arrangements now in practice were really efficient or appropriate. The National Science Foundation which was set up in 1950 was supposed to develop a national science policy but its timid leadership shield away from anything so adventurous; it did not even manage to take an inventory of U.S. research facilities, much less get around to doing something about reorganizing science in government.

If the Administration reforms its R & D structure, then as a consequence Congress would be obliged to conform. Rather than have a score of committees, subcommittees, and panels overseeing research activities, it could compress this gallimaufry into a single Senate and a single House Committee on Research. This by itself would represent a great improvement in the present arrangement which is akin to a jumble of a dozen jigsaw puzzles taken from as many separate boxes. As a result Congress never sees a single integrated picture but only bits and pieces of parts of the over-all research business of the United States. Under such a condition it is whimsical to talk of introducing balance into the research program or even to speak of a national program as such.

The social impact of modern research is too explosive for a nation to proceed blindly and cavalierly in such activity without making an effort to sense how new developments may affect society. This is an area which the National Science Foundation might have been expected to explore but, again, timidity at the top steered clear of such studies. In 1964 the government gave some indication of its awareness of the need to appreciate technological change when it created a National Commission on Technology, Automation and Economic Progress, but this is a far cry from incorporating planning activities within the substance of a government agency. I would propose that the Department of Science establish

a Division of Social Impact so that concurrent study would push forward on the societal significance of contemporary research. Such planning could act as a sort of early warning system to appraise well in advance the potential repercussions of modern scientific developments. Many discoveries and inventions profoundly affect the character of the nation's economy and its requirement for skilled labor. A single development like the transistor can mushroom within a few years from a concept into a complex of industries. The evolution of what the author calls a Ph.D.-based economy carries with it far-reaching consequences for our educational programs, for the economic vitality of individual communities and for the status of the United States in a world that is increasingly conscious of technological prestige.

No mention can be made of the impact of science on society without discussing the negative values which modern technology may entail if there is no advance accommodation to it. For example, agricultural productivity is boosted by the use of hundreds of different insecticides. But this potent brand of chemical warfare directed at pests may backfire upon its user in ways that are not immediately obvious. Here careful attention must be given to the contamination of the biosphere that thin rim of earth, air, and water upon which all life is founded. The possibilities of ecological upset are infinite, and a careless tinkering with one niche of nature may ricochet in oblique modes and show up in unexpected places and with nasty consequences. Here the government should show an advance concern that is self-policing so that it becomes unnecessary for a Rachel Carson to sound alarm. A responsible government tuned to the nature of modern technology should not have to be jolted by external criticism into an awareness of environmental hazards. As we have demonstrated in the case of radioactive fallout, the United States pursued a stubborn policy of avoiding facts, much to its detriment in the court of world opinion.

Science and foreign policy are often intimately interlinked. Scientists recognized this truism in the fifties and attempted to persuade the U.S. Department of State to take science seriously. Preliminary efforts to reform the State Department's old ways toward science were unsucessful. To cite a single example where an ounce of foresight might have paid off in tons of reward, we may mention the matter of seismology and the Nuclear Test Ban Treaty. As detailed in previous pages, the Test Ban Treaty was in the air early in 1954 when radioactive fallout from U.S. nuclear tests produced widespread fear. Yet when the experts met at Geneva to discuss a system for monitoring explosions, they lacked basic data on seismic detection of underground explosions and earthquakes. Neither the Defense Department nor the AEC did the relatively simple homework which might have saved the day at Geneva in 1958. Needless to say the National Science Foundation did not have the courage of foresight to fund a $50,000 or $100,000 research project which could have turned up all-important data. No genius was required to foresee that these data would be needed. Benjamin Franklin's maxims about the "want of a nail" and "a little neglect may breed mischief" take on a much more important connotation in an age of computers, ICBMs, and H-bombs.

"Every time you scientists make a major invention," President Kennedy said in a speech to a distinguished conference of scientists, "we politicians have to make a new invention to cope with it." Too often the political "inventions" are delayed until the produce of science turns ugly and even foul. Then the decisions. which have to be made often involve political trauma and fiscal pain. It should not be beyond the wit of man to extract sweet honey from the hive of science without attracting a swarm of retaliation.