Stanley Thornes: Cheltenham, UK, 2000. vii + 110 pp. ISBN 0-7487-4334-0. $28.95.

Benjamin Cummings: San Francisco, 2000. vi + 186 pp. ISBN 0-8053-4596-5. $29.00.

These two books arrived at a propitious time. I had just agreed to provide expert testimony on the nature of science and scientific ethics at a hearing in Georgia where the question being considered was whether fingerprint evidence is scientific under the recent Daubert standard adopted by the U.S. Supreme Court. What better way to prepare than to read critically two books with different views of science?

I started with Stop Working & Start Thinking. It was shorter and illustrated with cartoons, so I figured that it would be more fun to read. I wasn't disappointed. Cohen and Medley present important ideas in a witty and engaging style. Writing for an audience of postgraduate students in biology they give both a philosophical perspective and practical advice on the nature of experimental science. The core message is that experimentalists should think--design experiments cleverly and interpret the data insightfully. As the authors say in the preamble, a scientist should always be asking, "where is the Nature paper in this?" (The choice of Nature reflects the fact that they are both English; U.S. scientists might prefer Science, but the essential message is clear.)

After a brief overview of the nature of science, Cohen and Medley present thoughtful chapters on the intelligent use of statistics in data analysis, the design of the major types of experiments used in biology, and the nature of scientific explanation. They conclude with a nice chapter on scientific communication. I was particularly impressed with the chapter on statistics, which is not a statistics manual, but rather an attempt to help the reader think more deeply about what the statistics actually mean. In fact, the not-so-hidden subtext of this chapter is that if you have to use statistics, you have designed a poor experiment; a binary experiment that gives an unambiguous answer is always better, though not always possible.

I then turned to The Scientific Endeavor, written by Jeffrey A. Lee, a geographer at Texas Tech University, to provide undergraduate students with a concise overview of the nature of science. To borrow a phrase from Thomas Kuhn, this is a book about normal science. I think it can be used as a valuable supplement for any undergraduate science course or as the basis for a seminar for majors. In clean though uninspired prose, Lee brings together material from the philosophy, sociology, and history of science to give students a realistic picture of the way science actually works.

Three of the middle chapters are particularly well done. Chapter 4, "The Community of Scientists", discusses Robert Merton's norms for science: universalism, communality, disinterestedness, and organized skepticism, supplemented by John Ziman's norm of originality. Chapter 5 outlines the major kinds of scientific misconduct as identified in the National Academy of Sciences report Responsible Science. Of course, there is much more to say on scientific ethics, and the notes point to a number of useful additional sources, but this chapter provides an excellent introduction in just 13 pages. Chapter 6 first presents 35 critical thinking strategies, essential attitudes, and cognitive strategies that scientists must cultivate, then concludes with a discussion of common fallacies. Chapter 7 describes a number of well-known examples of pseudo science and Chapter 8 discusses ways of distinguishing legitimate and pseudo science.

Although neither of these books is directed specifically at chemists, I think that both faculty and students can profit from reading them. They were certainly useful to me as I organized my testimony for the hearing. Too much undergraduate (and graduate) education in chemistry focuses on narrow "professional technical" learning objectives, the detailed knowledge and skills needed by majors and professionals. Too little steps back and examines the "professional intellectual" objectives, the deeper questions that drive chemistry and science more generally; and essentially none looks at "general intellectual" objectives, the broad goals of a liberal arts education. Both of these books help provide these wider perspectives. Stop Working and Start Thinking is more specialized and is better suited for advanced students, but The Scientific Endeavor could be useful at any level. Both of them have valuable insights for teachers and practicing scientists, pointing out what we are really up to and reminding us that we, too, should, at least occasionally, stop working and start thinking.