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Aimless Science

This paper argues that talk of the aim of science should be avoided in the philosophy
of science, with special reference to the way that van Fraassen sets up the difference
between scientific realism and constructive empiricism. It also argues that talking
instead of what counts as success in science as such is unsatisfactory. The paper
concludes by showing what this talk may be profitably replaced with, namely specific
claims concerning science that fall into the following categories: descriptive,
evaluative, normative, and definitional. There are two key advantages to this proposal.
First, realism and its competitors may be understood to consist of highly nuanced
variants. Second, scientific realism and its competitors may be understood as
something other than all or nothing theses about science. More particularly, one may
accept that there are general claims concerning science in some of the identified
categories, but deny that there are such claims in the others.

Keywords: aim of science, scientific realism, scientific progress, van Fraassen,

constructive empiricism

1. Introduction

Talk of the aim of science is widespread in the literature on general philosophy of

science, and commonplace, in particular, in discussions of scientific method and
scientific realism; see, for example, van Fraassen (1980: 89), Newton-Smith (1981:
ch. 3), Popper (1983), Laudan (1984), and Sankey (2000). But should this talk be
taken literally? And if not, does the metaphor serve any useful purpose?

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I hope to convince you that the answers to both these questions lie in negative, and
also that the issues at stake in the general philosophy of science become clearer when
we adopt a non-teleological mode of discourse. In fact, talk of aims in the philosophy
of science is the source of considerable confusion, among professional philosophers
as well as students, as I have experienced first-hand on numerous occasions.1 One
such recent occasion, a research seminar, prompted me to write this paper. In
particular, the notion that the aim of science is some kind of function from the aims
of individual scientists, in doing science, was assumed by many of the audience. As
we will see, however, this is not what is typically intended by the phrase in the
philosophy of science. And in any event, even if there is such a sense in which one
may legitimately speak of the aim of science, this is a matter for empirical
sociological (or socio-historical) study. (It should also be carefully defined, e.g. in
terms of a clearly specified aggregation function of individual aims, if it is to be
rendered an object of that kind of empirical study. But to the best of my knowledge,
no such definition exists.)

I will proceed by discussing the most highly-influential discussion of the aim of

science in recent decades, namely that provided by van Fraassen (1980), which has
had a considerable impact on subsequent work in general philosophy of science and
beyond.2 But before I continue, I should like to note that van Fraassen is, in one sense,

I have also used such talk, albeit somewhat unwillingly, in Rowbottom (2010). Interestingly, concerns
involving the use of the aim of science were responsible for major revisions of the initial version of
that paper being requested. The second section, which comprises around one thousand words, was
produced in response.
2
Google scholar helps to give a rough measure; the book has been cited almost 3000 times. Compare
Popper (1983), which has only been cited 600 times, and Laudan (1984), which has only been cited
300 times.

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an undeserving target; many other authors, beforehand and thereafter, have used the
phrase without any serious discussion, and/or in confusing fashions.

Here are some brief examples. First, Cooper (1964), in a paper on The Aims of
Science, simply fails to discuss what the phrase is supposed to mean. Second, Popper
(1983: 132), in a book with Aim of Science in the title, writes only:

To speak of the aim of scientific activity may perhaps sound a little nave;
for clearly, different scientists have different aims, and science itself
(whatever that may mean) has no aims. I admit all this. Yet when we speak of
science, we do seem to feel, more or less clearly, that there is something
characteristic of scientific activity, and since scientific activity looks pretty
much like a rational activity, and since a rational activity must have some aim,
the attempt to describe the aim of science may not be entirely futile.

A more recent introductory discussion by Newton-Smith fares no better. The term is

introduced as follows:

At what is science especially successful? ... Are theories just tools for
predicting and manipulating the world? This [is] controversy about the aim
of science. (Newton-Smith 2000: 3)

Just two pages later, Newton-Smith (2000: 5) writes: Much philosophy of science
concerns issues of aims and methods. In the course of pursuing our aim (whatever it
may be) using our rich range of methods, we have crafted descriptive and explanatory

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tools But science can be especially successful at something without us pursuing

that end; and similarly, theories can be just tools for predicting and manipulating the
world even if all scientists think otherwise, and pursue a different end. It is easy to
see how a studentand even a professional philosopherreading this introduction
may emerge confused. A simple and effective solution, I will urge, is to ditch talk of
the aim(s) of science.3

2. Van Fraassen on the Aim of Science: A Critique

Van Fraassen (1980: 8, 12) characterizes scientific realism and his alternative,
constructive empiricism, as involving two competing claims about the aim of science:

Science aims to give us, in its theories, a literally true story of what the world
is like; and acceptance of a scientific theory involves the belief that it is true.

Science aims to give us theories which are empirically adequate; and

acceptance of a theory involves as belief only that it is empirically adequate.

Now if the aim of science were understood to be determinable by looking to the aims
of individual scientists in doing sciencewhat they hoped to achieve, be it fame,
fortune, finding the truth, or finding empirically adequate theoriesthen the
difference of opinion would be easily settled by sociological study. The appropriate
procedure is simple. State what has to be true of the aims of individual scientists in
order for the overarching aim of science to be x, and then study the aims of

3

Note also that science may be especially successful at achieving some end even when achieving said
end is not constitutive of the activity. The significance of this will become apparent in due course.

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individual scientists. For example, one might (rather crudely) take some x to be an
aim of science if at least 50% of scientists hope to achieve (or get closer towards) x by
doing science. And one might take some y to be the aim of science if it is the single
most prevalent aim of scientists in doing science.4 Then simple quantitative
investigations, e.g. appropriate survey work, would bring to an end the interminable
debate between scientific realists and constructive empiricists. (At least, thats for the
time being. On such views, the aim of science could change over time.) In the words
of Rosen (1994: 144):

A literal interpretation would have it that SR [scientific realism] and CE

[constructive empiricism] are opposing proposals about what scientists
actually think.

We would also take a dim view of claims about the aim(s) of science based on limited
personal experience, or on armchair speculation (and hence of van Fraassen 1980, and
the resultant philosophical exchanges on the aim of science). One can also find many
claims that appear remarkable on this literal view, such as: The establishing of
general laws is an invariant and focal aim of all science (Cooper 1964: 328). It is
highly dubious that this goes for biology, for example; see Keller (2007) and Author
[2011c].

This said, it should be of little surprise that van Fraassen (1980) does not take the aim
of science to reflect the aims of scientists; that the literal interpretation just cant be
right (Rosen 1994: 144). Van Fraassen (1980: 8) explains this by using chess as an

4

Much more refined aggregation functions may be possible, e.g. after those used in social
epistemological contexts; see List and Puppe (2007). But this will not change the underlying point
here; the result of applying such a function would have to be determined by spade work.

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analogy for science. The aim of chess, we are told, is to give checkmate. The aims of
individual chess players may be quite different: to become famous, rich, or simply to
have some mental stimulation. And even if all chess players just so happened to share
the same aim, this would not be sufficient for it to constitute an aim of chess. Thus as
he explains elsewhere, constructive empiricism should not be associated with the
claim that:

(all or most) real scientists aim to construct empirically adequate theories, and
believe the theories they accept to be empirically adequate (Van Fraassen
1994: 180)

So how should talk of the aim of science be understood? Van Fraassen (1980: 8) adds
only that:

What the aim is determines what counts as success in the enterprise as such;
and this aim may be pursued for any number of reasons. Also, in calling
something the aim, I do not deny that there are other subsidiary aims which
may or may not be means to that end.

Note that van Fraassens claim, here, is that the aim determines what counts as
success. It is not that what counts as success determines the aim. But in the case of
chess, this appears backwards. On the contrary, just because giving checkmate to
ones opponent counts as successi.e. winningin chess, it is the aim of chess to
give checkmate to ones opponent. In any eventand here is the fundamental point
we may describe chess quite adequately without saying that it has an aim. Instead, we

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may state the rules of the game, and what it takes to win (or to succeed). No mention
of any aim of the game is required. Success suffices.

But how about pulling the trick of saying that chess players, like scientists, have the
shared personal aim of succeeding? This is precisely what van Fraassen (1994: 182)
appears to do at one stage:

[S]cientists with their very different motives and convictions participate in a

common enterprise, defined by its own internal criteria of success, and this
success is their common aim inside this cluster of diverging personal aim.
How else could they be said to be collaborating in a common enterprise? The
question is only what that defining criterion of success is.

At best, however, this trick suggests that all philosophers of science should agree on
what the aim of science is, namely to succeed at science. But if that is so, then there is
no genuine dispute over aims at all, and it is a mistakeor at least, highly
misleadingto express the difference between scientific realism and constructive
empiricism in those terms. It would again be better, surely, to refer only to different
accounts of what constitutes success in science.

Besides, the claim that many (or most) people who play chess do so with the aim of
winning is sociological. (If you doubt this, then you must think that this claim is not
open to empirical refutation. It is. For example, I have played many games in chess
tournaments in which I have aimed for an early draw, e.g. by complicating the

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position in the middle game and unnerving the opponent; and I am happy with the
draws I have achieved against superior players.5)

But might we not stick with the notion of success, as a replacement for the talk of
aims? Not on the strength of van Fraassens initial analogy, in so far as science bears
little significant resemblance to chess.6 First and foremost, in chess, what it takes to
win is stipulated as part of the game design. This is not so in science. Second, it is
dubious that the rules of science are enough to define it, or indeed play a definitional
role at all, in the way that the rules of chess serve to define that game. In chess, to fail
to know any of the rules is to be unable to play the game; to fail to know some of
them means (at least) that one is unable to play the game properly. Similarly, to know
the rules but intentionally violate them is to fail to play the game, but instead to adopt
the semblance of doing so (e.g. to cheat).7 Third, and finally, science involves groups
and communities; so at best, it may only be understood as a team game.8

In relation to the second and third of the points above, consider that there are several
possible answers to van Fraassens rhetorical question, How else could they be said
to be collaborating in a common enterprise [unless there were a common criterion of
success]? One short answer, for instance, is that many scientists simply obey
instructions to perform particular local tasks (and collaborate in the same way a
private does with an officer); and while they may wish to succeed in following those

5

It may be objected that I would have taken a win if the opportunity arose, e.g. if I spotted a way to
force mate in a small number of moves. I accept this. But I was still playing with the aim of not losing,
rather than the aim of winning.
6
Kuhn (1996) infamously used a chess analogy too, in order to illustrate how normal science is a
puzzle solving process. However, he elsewhere argued that normal scientists rely on pattern
recognition, rather than rule following. See Bird (2000: 7175) and Rowbottom (2011a).
7
See also Resnik (1993).
8
This final element of disanalogy is perhaps not as troublesome as the others; see Rowbottom (2010:
211).

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instructions and performing those tasks, this hardly suggests that they want to succeed
(or contribute to success) in some further global sense. Another reaction to van
Fraassens question is to simply deny that all scientists are collaborating in a common
enterprise; on the contrary, many of them are competing. My overarching point, here,
is that there is a chasm between what counts as success for any given individual or
research group and what counts as success for the whole; and in fact, some will
legitimately question the very idea that there is such as thing as success for the
whole of science, above and beyond different local criteria for success in different
areas of (what we just so happen to classify as) science.9

The only obvious way to rejoin, and urge that there genuinely is something
philosophically distinct that counts as success in science, is show how to determine
what this is. Perhaps rather than asking scientists what their own aims are, i.e. going
into sociology, we might look to other empirical data? In fact, van Fraassen (1994:
186) notes this kind of possibility by considering a different analogy, between science
and war, which is rather better than his earlier one between science and chess:

Clausewitz doctrine of war: [the aim of] war is the continuation of diplomacy
by other means. This does imply:

the soliders aim, the criterion of his [sic] success, is the continuation of
[his/her countrys] diplomacy.

9

This is closely related to the distinction, made by Magnus and Callender (2004: 321), between retail
and wholesale approaches: Wholesale realism seeks to explain the success of science in general;
wholesale anti-realism seeks to explain the history of science in general. Dissolving the debate
involves attending to the retail arguments without trying to settle the debate in an all-or-nothing,
wholesale manner. I disagree, however, with the suggestion that wholesale anti-realism concerns
history, rather than success; and I believe that this is illustrated by van Fraassens emphasis on success.

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Van Fraassen continues by asking us to imagine that we can find no solider who says
that her aim is to continue her countrys diplomacy. What then? Is Clausewitz
refuted? Van Fraassen (1994: 186187) thinks not, because some of the soldiers, at
least, understand what war is really all about:

I do not mean to rely on this as an example of false consciousness. What

happens in war flows from the conscious self-understanding of the
participants. It also flows from the aims, intentions, and beliefs of the actual
participants. But the two are not the same. I think that the soldiers or at least
the generals understand the business of war very well. If they are sincere in
their statement of their own aims and intentions, then it follows, I think, that
they are convinced that pursuing those is compatible (and perhaps best
combined) with the continuation of their countrys diplomacy by force of
arms.

So one might think that we can sociologically probe scientists understandings of

science without asking them about their own aims in doing science. For example:

Approach some scientists you know and mention some of their most valued
scientific colleagues. Then tell them that as a matter of fact those colleagues
are not pursuing the aim of finding true theories, but are privately concerned
only to construct empirically adequate ones. Now ask them whether, with this
new information in hand, they still regard those men and women as real
scientists? (Van Fraassen 1994: 187)

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Several obvious variations on this experiment are possible; one may ask the
interviewees to think of figures from the history of science, or even from future
science, in place of colleagues. But this is not the way that van Fraassen (1994: 188)
wants to go: I do not equate the aim of science even with all or most scientists
understanding of what science is.

So how about answering the question with reference to publications, citations, and
other relevant awards? Or one could look a little deeper; one could look for patterns in
the kind of papers that are (or have been) well-cited or otherwise lauded. And one
might gain, as a result, an insight into what kind of work is (or has been) actually
successful in science (above and beyond what kind of work is thought, by a majority
of scientists, to be successful). This may be understood as a kind of systematic
approach, which bears similarities to the aims as characteristics option which Resnik
(1993: 229230) considers to be the best available.10 The underlying idea is that the
system favours (or has favoured) some kinds of activity, but not others. Yet there
would be serious problems in conducting this kind of research. For example, why
should we expect the relevant differences to show up in the papers, without an
interpretative spin provided by realism or one of its competitors? Perhaps papers that
posit new theoretical entities are (or have been) popular, for instance. But does this
show that the discovery of such entities is (or was) a scientific priority? Or does it just
happen to be the case that such theoretical posits are usually bound up with significant

10

Resnik (1993: 230) is mainly concerned with how aims might justify methodological rules. And he
notes, correctly, that this view will not do: If we think of aims as characteristics which describe
scientific conduct, then aims cannot justify methodological rules because these characteristics are too
general and abstract to offer genuine guidance. Via this different route, he also comes to the
conclusion that (1993: 231): philosophers of science might achieve more useful results by shifting
their attention away from the aims of science [which] seem to have little effect on working
scientists.

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new empirical predictions? And in any event, even disregarding such difficulties, one
would end up with the question: is (or was) the way the system set up good or bad?
The worry is that the realist will say one thing, and the anti-realist another, under
many key circumstances (e.g. if we somehow learned that saving the phenomena was
what was most rewarded). So we would not have penetrated into the real differences
that divide the two camps.11

Let me put the point more bluntly. The worry is that talk of some kind of essential
success in science papers over the genuine division between many realists and antirealists. In particular, a difference in value judgements, concerning what kinds of
inquiry are worthwhile, is (arguably) instead treated as if it were a disagreement on a
matter of fact about science. For van Fraassen, for instance, the valuable product is
empirically adequate theories. For many realists who disagree, the valuable product is
true (and empirically adequate) theories. And rather than cast the difference as being
For van Fraassen, science would be finished when it had empirically adequate
theories of everything, although it might not be finished for the realist, we can
instead say For van Fraassen, there would be no value in continuing to inquire in
some domain when one had empirically adequate theories, although there might be
for the realist (if, for example, those empirically adequate theories were known not be
true). So the presumption of success in the enterprise as such (like that of the aim
of science) sets the debate up in a way that is potentially highly misleading.

I therefore suggest not only that talk of the aim of science should be ditched, but
also that what counts as success in science as such is an inadequate replacement. I

11

This is the kind of problem that van Fraassen (1994) grapples with in closing. It is always open to a
philosopher to maintain that some activity is not science because it does not have the correct features.

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will now turn my attention to what to put in their place, and will propose a roomier
framework in which the finer distinctions between specific realists and anti-realists
can be made more readily apparent.

3. Aims and Success: Lost in Translation

So when a philosopher of science says the aim of science is x, what on earth might
she mean? Like Bacon (1620: bk. II, 2) in the face of scholastic philosophy, I
propose that we can profitably dispense with such teleological discourse, which
rather corrupts than advances the sciences except such as have to do with human
actions. There are four distinct kinds of theses, each decidedly philosophical (rather
than sociological) in character, which we may instead discuss:

DescriptiveWhat Science Can Be Expected To DoTheses

For example:
(a) Science can reliably achieve x.
(b) Science can make reliable progress towards x.
(c) Science will achieve x.
(d) Science has a higher objective probability of achieving x than any other of
a peculiar class of alternatives, {x1, , xn}.

EvaluativeWhy Its Worth Doing ScienceTheses

For example:
(e) Science would not be worth doing if it could not reliably achieve x.
(f) Science is only worth doing if it can reliably achieve x.

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(g) Science is only worth doing if it will achieve x.

(h) Science would no longer be worth doing if it achieved x.
(i) Science is worth doing more if it can reliably achieve x than it would be if
it could only reliably achieve any (or all) of a peculiar class of alternatives,
{x1, , xn}.

NormativeWhat Scientists Should DoTheses

For example:
(j) Scientists should (as a community) strive to achieve x if they are able.
(k) Each and every scientist should strive to make progress towards achieving
x if he/she is able.

DefinitionalWhat Science IsTheses

For example:
(l) An activity counts as a science if it can reliably achieve x.
(m) A branch of inquiry is not scientific if it cannot make reliable progress
towards x.

These lists of possible theses are just indicative; they are by no means exhaustive.
Some of these types may also be connected; and there will be differences of opinion
about how it is appropriate to connect them (especially when it comes to the
definitional theses and the others). This is not the place to discuss such connections;
instead, I want to suggest that this framework may be used to delineate, and clarify,
the available spectrum of positions in what are normally called the realist and antirealist camps.

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How about mapping the view of van Fraassen in this way?12 He denies (a)(c) for x as
truth or approximate truth; and I think, in so far as he is an anti-inductivist, that he
should also deny these claims when x is empirical adequacy.13 I suspect, however,
that he does endorse (b) for x as empirical adequacy; and I am also reasonably
confident that he would endorse (d), when n is two, for x as empirical adequacy and x1
and x2 as truth and approximate truth. In the evaluative domain, I take it that he would
reject theses (e)(g) for any of the standard options for x, such as truth, approximate
truth, structural adequacy, and empirical adequacy. I believe, however, that he
would endorse (h) for x as empirical adequacy. I think he would also endorse a
further thesis (f*) for x as empirical adequacy (if he does indeed endorse (b) for the
same x): Science is only worth doing if it can make reliable progress towards x.

In the normative dimension, I believe he says that (j) is true for empirical adequacy
but not truth or approximate truth. And finally, on the definitional theses, I am not
entirely sure where he stands; I suspect, however, that he would agree with me that
we should not define science in terms of what it can achieve.14

12

Otvio Bueno has suggested to me that his position might be best understood as concerning whats
constitutive of science. I need not deny this, however. Rather, I think that constitutive claims can be
broken down into claims falling into the aforementioned categories (especially descriptive, evaluative,
and definitional).
13
In Rowbottom (2010, 2011b), I argue that this goes through from the point of view of evolutionary
epistemology.
14
Heres my own view. I deny all of the first three descriptive theses, (a)(c), where x is truth or
approximate truth. I am also more of an anti-realist than most, in so far as I also deny these theses when
x is structural adequacy, empirical adequacy, or even approximate empirical adequacy. (I am instead
inclined toward thinking that (a) is true for x as the elimination of empirically inadequate theories; see
Rowbottom (2010, 2011b).) Furthermore, I deny all of the first three evaluative theses, (e)(g), when x
takes any of the aforementioned values. On (h), however, I think that empirical adequacy, or even
something less, will do the trick; for example, I see no value in discovering which of two completely
empirically adequate theories is true (although I understand why others might see value here, at least in
so far as they wish to satisfy their curiosity about how the world is). In the normative dimension, I deny
(j) and (k) when x takes any of the aforementioned values except the elimination of empirically
inadequate theories. In addition, if x is instead something like save the phenomena relevant to our
practical concerns in an economical fashion then I am inclined to endorse both. Finally, I reject (l) and

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Realists, by way of contrast, are more inclined to think that true statements may be
formed by letting x be truth or approximate truth in (a)(c), (e)(h), and (j)(m).
To be describable as a realist about science at all, it is plausible that a philosopher
must think that at least one of these statements is true when this is done. And strong
realists will think that many of these statements are true when this is done. As such,
we have a rough and ready framework for measuring the strength of realist (or antirealist) commitment. (For example, some are descriptive realists only. Some are
normative realists but not descriptive realists.) And all this without talking of the aims
of science, or indeed of what counts as success in science as such.15

It is also worth noting the extra freedom that the proposed framework provides, with
respect to the difference between local and global issuesor what Magnus and
Callender (2004) call retail and wholesale claimswhich was raised earlier. For
example, one might think that all of the descriptive questions can legitimately be
answered globally (or wholesale), whereas none of the evaluative ones can. Or one
might think that some descriptive questions can legitimately be answered globally,
whereas others cannot. It is therefore possible to chart positions that are far more
nuanced than those that can readily be appreciated by talking in terms of aims
and/or success.

Acknowledgements

(m) in so far as I do not think we should define science in terms of what it can (or could conceivably)
achieve. (I do not discuss (d) or (i) because this would require an extensive digression.)
15
In the normative dimension, naturally, we may be said to be discussing what we think scientists
should aim for. But it is explicit, in this context, that we are discussing scientists.

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I am grateful to Sydneys Centre for the Foundations of Science for supporting this
research, and an audience at the University of Sydney for prompting it. I should also
like to thank Otvio Bueno, Maureen OMalley, and several anonymous referees for
helpful feedback.

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