Scientist-Overlord

By STEPHEN TOULMIN

N his Harvard lectures on Science and Govern- ' /tient, the eminent public servant Sir Charles Snow (thrusting his alter ego, Snow the novelist, behind his academic gown) posed again the problem of the 'philosopher-king' in mid- twentieth-century shape. In an age of rockets, nucleonics and automation, he argued, the prob- lem of fitting expert advisers into a system of responsible government has been given a new twist. Political decisions which matter vitally to us all are taken—are inescapably taken—not in open, democratic debate, but in secret con- clave, and are determined in the light of advice given by scientists whose arguments are never --could never be —explained to the electorate. or

THE SPECTATOR, JULY 27, 1962 even to the mass of their fellow-scientists. What dangers, Snow asked, does this new fact of politi- cal life create for us? And how can we adapt our constitutional arrangements to guard against them?

Unfortunately, the method Snow chose of enticing public attention towards this thorny problem ended at the time by distracting it away. (In an age given over to gossip, serious issues are also-rans.) The case of Cherwell v. Tizard had too much entertainment value, was too fresh in the minds of a hundred eye-witnesses, revived the twinges of too many corns. So his general and forward-looking question, 'Can any one scientist be permitted to be a government's

supreme scientific adviser?', was ignored in favour of retrospective personalities ('Was Cher- well really such an ass?'), and the crucial prob- lems got lost below a mountain of chit-chat. But now with two more recent publications to hand—Lord Birkenhead's biography of Lord

Cherwell and the official history of The Strategic Air Oflensive—Snow has returned to the attack.* How does his case look eighteen months later?

Particularities can be disposed of quickly. The fuller record confirms what by now only Cher-

Well's close friends still dispute: viz., that, when applied to questions of high strategic policy, his scientific judgment was defective—cranky, in-

flexible, fantaisiste. That, however, is not the Point Snow most wants us to debate. He is not claiming only that:

If you are going to haVe a scientist in a Position of isolated power, the only scientist among non-scientists, it is dangerous when he has bad judgment.

This time he has carefully underlined the wider moral of his parable: if you are going to have a scientist in a position of isolated power, the only scientist among non-scientists, it is dangerous whoever he is. . . . Whoever he is, whether he is the wisest scientist in the world, we must never tolerate a scientific overlord again.

Does his parable really enforce this conclu- sion? 1 wish I was convinced that it did. Snow's drama, however, shows too little of the key !haracter• in the story. We watch the bickerings In the antechamber: the siren suit and cigar re- main invisible behind the backdrop. For one

must not forget that Cherwell's power rested, not on constitutional arrangements, but on the fact that he had Churchill's ear: that was how Cherwell's pets became Churchill's pets, and Cherwell's blunders Churchill's blunders. It is easy to say, 'We must-never tolerate a scientific overlord again,' but this proposition needs stand- 1118 on its head. For what Snow implies by this is: that a Chief Executive—whether Prime Minister or President—must be prevented from making any one scientist his special confidant. Yet how can this be done? If the PM appoints a personal military adviser, the CIGS cannot pre- vent this. All he can do is present the general

staffs collective recommendations the more em-

phatically: the final decision remains political. And if Snow is arguing that we need a Scien- Itc General Staff, to formulate collective recommendations on scientific matters, his case Is a strong one. The trouble is: implicit reliance By POSTSCRIPT TO 'SCIENCE AND GOVERNMENT.' C. P. Snow. (0.U.P., 3s. 6d.)

on such collective advice involves its own risks, and a chief executive cannot be compelled to accept it. Sometimes he ought to consult an indi- vidual he trusts—and ought not to be prevented from consulting him—rather than submit to a collective recommendation which offends his political 'nose.'

For once, Snow's sense of the realities of power seems to me to have failed him. The ex- perience of living with Cherwell was evidently a trauma, and he would like to think that con- stitutional rearrangements could spare us another similar, (perhaps more fateful) episode. But the problem is too complex to be resolved by con- stitutional niceties. The tragic element in his story is not so much Cherwell's bad scientific judgment as Churchill's bad judgment in assess- ing Cherwell's advice. This being so, the essential question we must face is not only, `How can we better order our scientific chain of com- mand?', but also, `How can we save our poli- ticians from themselves?' And there I would beg leave to call in evidence, as against Sir Charles Snow the public servant, the testimony of C. P. Snow the Rede Lecturer: We must educate our masters.