Disintegrated Sciences

Construction work on the Robert Day Integrated Sciences Center.

As the final panels are placed on the Robert Day Integrated Sciences Center, it is worth pausing to reflect on the nature of integrated science and its relationship to the broader university project.

Instead of orienting itself around the traditional scientific disciplines of physics, chemistry, and biology, the new Kravis Department of Integrated Sciences (KDIS) is “organized around three major grand challenges related to the health of our species, our brains, and our planet.” The website claims that “these three priorities interrelate with one another and provide opportunities for important intersections with the study of psychological sciences, economics and business, government and policy, philosophy and ethics, and other disciplines at CMC.”

The scientific endeavor entails the pursuit of knowledge. After all, the word “science” comes from the Latin word, scire, which means “to know.” But the new integrated sciences department is primarily concerned with building skills rather than knowledge. The focus is no longer on understanding reality but shaping it.

The Greek pre-Socratic philosopher Thales of Miletus was among the first to practice science, predicting an eclipse in 585 B.C. The Greek historian Plutarch wrote that Thales was “the only wise man of the time who carried his speculations beyond the realm of the practical.” The Greek philosopher Plato tells a story in which Thales was so distracted by looking at the stars that he fell into a well. These descriptions indicate that the scientific enterprise, as originally practiced, involved eschewing practical concerns and aiming at pure knowledge of reality. 

Meanwhile, the new integrated sciences—often associated with the applied sciences—are less concerned with what science can teach to us and more concerned with what science can accomplish for us. It’s telling that no “grand challenge” in the department directly relates to physics—the scientific discipline that most clearly embodies a desire to plumb the depths of reality.

Another figure often dubbed the “first scientist” was Aristotle. Aristotle represents how the original scientific enterprise was properly integrated with other disciplines. For Aristotle, science allows us to learn about nature, which acts as a guide for philosophy and politics. It’s ironic that we call our new sciences “integrated,” when in fact, the department represents a disintegration of this classical model. Rather than seeing nature as a teacher of philosophical and political truths, the integrated sciences see nature as a tool to achieve predetermined philosophical and political ends. Ancient science treats nature as a master; integrated sciences treat it as a slave.

The integrated sciences follow in the tradition of a different scientist—Francis Bacon. Bacon, nearly two millennia after Aristotle, wrote that the “furthest end of knowledge” is not intellectual enlightenment but the “relief of man’s estate.” Bacon believed that scientific and technological advancement could limit or even eliminate the woes of the human condition. The integrated sciences share this orientation towards technological liberation, wielding science for human empowerment. But this technological liberation may soon turn into a technological slavery. As C.S. Lewis forewarns, “Man’s conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature’s conquest of Man.” 

The Department’s Baconian insistence on the practical can be seen in its approach to course selection. Professor Ran Libeskind-Hadas, the founding chair of the department, said that “Each of our courses is framed by one or more contemporary issues. We use a just-in-time approach that teaches new material in response to addressing a current challenge.” This “just-in-time” model teaches students that scientific methods' final ends are to overcome a “challenge,” not to understand a concept. 

Ultimately, the “just-in-time” model reverses the priorities that should guide scientific inquiry. One would hope that a student or professor’s self-selected curiosities would act as their North Star, with any practical or professional implications of their curiosities as secondary concerns. Instead, integrated sciences teach students that practicality comes first, filtering their classroom experience through the lens of “compelling current problems.” 

In addition, the history of scientific advancement is rife with examples of discoveries that began as purely theoretical but went on to have practical applications. General relativity at first seemed like a strange oddity of physics but became practically important with the advent of space flight and GPS technology. The CRISPR mechanism was originally thought of as a quirk of bacterial DNA before being employed decades later as a gene editing tool. Students should be taught not to merely react to the issues of the day, but probe the world around them according to their curiosities, letting applications come as they may. 

To be clear, the department will no doubt employ many thoughtful scientists devoted to the pursuit of truth—it already does. But the problem with the department is not its personnel but its purpose. By focusing on application rather than knowledge, the “integrated sciences” end up segregating themselves from other academic disciplines.

Ultimately, the issues with integrated sciences are downstream from CMC’s enduring obsession with preprofessional preparation. The Department’s website touts the many postgraduate pathways majors may take. It’s not that graduates shouldn’t be prepared for these careers, but the primary goal of the class should be to cultivate a thirst for knowledge rather than feed an existing hunger for wealth or status. If CMC continues to allow careers to dominate the classroom, it will risk becoming—in the words of a wise professor—”a white collar trade school.”

This article was published in conjunction with The Forum.