increase the food supply, promote harmonious social relations, and eradicate disease. Those who did discuss this problem were primarily concerned that science should not serve military ends exclusively. Newsweek for July 30 believed that the government should support defense research but warned that industrial development would be injured if the government monopolized the best scientists. The strongest statement on priorities (and thus an indication of the lack of debate) was the Missoula Missoulian's editorial of July 29: "It is, then, sensible to keep our men of vision and learning at work for humanity rather than against humanity. We trust that 'military research during peacetime' will not be the most important of the tasks to be assumed by the research foundation Dr. Bush suggests." Most of the limited discussion in this area focused on the failure of Bush to include support for the social sciences. Supporters of the social sciences, however, argued simply for inclusion rather than for an evaluation of priorities. On July 20 the Chicago Sun asked that the program be broadened because "the principle of Dr. Bush's plan is so sound that it ought not to be confined to the physical sciences. The 'frontiers of the mind' demand extension in the humanities, in political science, economics and other social studies as well as in physics, chemistry and medicine."

The lack of debate over priorities was influenced by popular conceptions of the nature of science. First, science meant primarily the "hard" physical sciences. The social sciences were regarded with skepticism because both their procedures and conclusions seemed to lack the rigorous objectivity generally associated with other sciences. Praising the Bush plan, the Little Rock Democrat for July 26 concluded, “Best of all, it's no scheme to control the manners, morals, and mores of the people. In short, 'social science' is not involved." 18 Second, debate on the ends sought through support of the physical sciences was vitiated by the notion that all scientific developments were inherently beneficial. In addition to a fundamental equation of change with progress, this attitude was fortified by the wartime experience. Science, most believed, had both in

18 This was a Southern concern but not exclusively; see Knight chain editorials in Chicago News, Aug. 1, 1945, and Akron Beacon-Journal, Aug. 2, 1945.

creased American destructive potential and saved lives. In wartime it was natural to regard advances in destructive weapons favorably. Finally, the most important reason for the relative lack of concern with priorities was the belief that the possibilities of science were limitless. Even without the inclusion of the social sciences, Bush maintained that his program would provide "one essential key to our security as a nation, to our better health, to more jobs, to a higher standard of living, and to our cultural progress." 19 If science could be applied simultaneously to a wide variety of fields with similar results, there was no reason to debate priorities among ends.

The issue of scientific freedom does not appear to have been important to the lay public at the close of World War II. Perhaps one reason was the traditional belief that science and democracy are natural allies since freedom is fundamental to both. As Raymond Graham Swing said, "The scientist who is not allowed full freedom of thought and self-expression, we have assumed, will not function." 20 Only a democracy offered the freedom required for scientific research, and therefore as long as the United States remained a democracy scientific freedom could not become a major issue. Minor restrictions on scientific freedom, if recognized, were justified by the wartime need of sacrifice for the common good. Typical of this attitude was the Missoula Missoulian's casual acknowledgment on July 29, "American scientists and inventors have done great things, entirely anonymously and strictly under cover during the war." Although more candid, Bush also displayed this sense that there had been a minor, temporary disruption of the norm necessitated by the war when he admitted, “we must remove the rigid controls which we have had to impose.'

//21

The willingness to ignore or gloss over wartime restrictions on scientific freedom, while understandable, nevertheless meant that difficult questions concerning the nature and necessity of scientific freedom in the modern state were being evaded. If science could continue to flourish despite an abridgement of its freedom, then the comfortable assumptions about the

19 Bush, Science, p. vi.

20 Swing broadcast text, July 19, 1945, official file 53, "1945, #1," Truman Papers, HSTL. 21 Bush, Science, p. 7

relationship of science and democracy had to be modified. The contradiction between the faith that science could flourish only in a democracy and the widely recognized scientific achievements of Nazi Germany was almost entirely ignored. When not ignored it seems to have been evaded: "The conferees recognized that while science may be used by a totalitarian regime-witness the technological advances made under the Nazis—its progress requires an atmosphere of freedom." 22 Could science simply be coerced into fruitfulness? Could an atmosphere of scientific freedom be provided by a totalitarian state? Could scientific freedom be regulated without affecting the general level of freedom in the society? Questions such as these were steadfastly ignored by most Americans in July 1945.

In Science, the Endless Frontier, Bush included injunctions that government support of scientific research must not interfere with scientific freedom. This freedom, as he defined it, consisted primarily of the right to free inquiry. It must be preserved because "scientific progress on a broad front results from the free play of free intellects, working on subjects of their own choice, in the manner dictated by their curiosity for exploration of the unknown." 23 While equally insistent on the maintenance of freedom of inquiry, the editor of the Baltimore Sun on August 4 was less optimistic about the Bush recommendations:

In scientific research there can be no compromise whatever with intellectual freedom, if it is to yield results. It should be so free that it is not even required to yield results. No one can tell in advance what scientific work will be productive and what will not. . . . All this has an important bearing on suggestions for Federal support of scientific research. For if research is publically supported, pressure for "results" follows automatically.

The Sun's editor believed that while Bush had tried to include safeguards there was a very real possibility they would prove ineffective owing to human frailty. Others, however, had more confidence in the government's ability to support scientific research without undue interference. The Washington Post (July 20) believed Science, the Endless Frontier represented a "thorough, careful plan for putting the needed push of the Federal Government behind our

22 New Republic, June 11, 1945, p. 807.

23 Bush, Science, p. 7.

scientific progress and yet keeping our science independent of Government control." Some, such as the editor of the Cleveland Plain Dealer and Waldemar Kaempffert of the New York Times, on July 20 and 22, respectively, were less cautious in claiming that the war had already proved the compatibility of highly organized science and scientific freedom.

Several aspects of scientific freedom that would become very important during the next few years were ignored in July 1945. The most significant of these was the conception of scientific freedom as including the civil liberties of scientists- their right to publish and discuss results, to free association and travel. Scientific freedom as it pertained to unrestricted inquiry would continue to be an issue but with a new focus. In the cold war era, failure to obtain security clearance, rather than pressure to pursue particular ends, would constitute the greatest danger to freedom of inquiry. The closely related issue of secrecy with regard to scientific achievements was also of little concern to the American public. On the few occasions when the word secret was used, it seemed an entirely accepted part of the wartime context.

Most remarkable was the number of questions not articulated in July 1945. The importance of science for the national welfare was accepted without challenge. There was virtually no debate as to whether or not the federal government should encourage science in some fashion. While some feared direct federal support of science, the strength of the consensus was emphasized by those who supported a national science foundation despite their opposition to further expansion of the federal government. There was little discussion of priorities among the anticipated goals of a federally supported science program. Finally, the traditional assumptions about the relationships of science, freedom, and the state were allowed to continue unchallenged despite changing realities.

For the nation to realize the benefits of science, Bush proposed not only a foundation but also insisted that the government provide approximately 24,000 scholarships and 900 fellowships for potential scientists. He argued that this was necessary, in part, because of the government's failure to defer students of science during the war. Selective Service procedures toward scientists had been criticized since early in the war by professional societies and in

dustrial leaders. In late March 1945, therefore, Congressman McDonough had introduced a bill "to authorize the release of persons from active military service, and the deferment of persons from military service, in order to aid in making possible the education and training and utilization of scientific and technological manpower to meet essential needs both in war and peace." 24 Although McDonough's bill attracted little attention, Bush's discussion of the problem in his report set off a substantial attack on Selective Service policies. Frank Waldrop in the Washington Times-Herald for July 28 charged that while England and Russia hoarded their scientists, "only Uncle Sam is a generation behind" because "someone whose name is still a guilty secret within the Government made the terrible blunder in 1941 of deciding that the USA could afford to draft its oncoming generation of student scientists as soldiers." The Hartford Courant (July 23) hoped that the Bush plan would be adopted to rectify the "short-sighted" policies that had destroyed the American "seed-crop" of young scientists. Raymond Graham Swing provided the most explicit image of scientists as a national resource. He invoked Theodore Roosevelt's fight for conservation, and then ended his broadcast with the words "Now Dr. Bush is appealing for the conservation of our limited and most essential human resource. One hopes it will not need as long a fight to have his belated and modest program adopted." 25

Scientists were thus considered to be a valuable resource. But what was the nature of this resource? First of all, the word "genius" appeared repeatedly with reference to scientific achievement. Its use did not, however, approach the awestruck, reverential tone used towards the atomic scientists after Hiroshima, nor did it include any of the frustration and resignation to appear later in connection with experts who understood what the common man could not. For at least one writer, scientific genius was a particular mode of thought, totally free of mystery, unique to the white race. Waldrop began his article in the Washington Times-Herald by crediting Galileo with originating "the system of shrewd, practical thinking from only provable facts, that we call 24 U.S. Congress, House, Congressional Record, 79 Cong., 1 sess., 1945, p. A1253.

25 Swing broadcast text, July 19, 1945, official file 53, "1945, #1," Truman Papers, HSTL.

'science.'" He then asserted, "Science, as such, is everywhere in modern America. Without it we would fade out. After all, everything to build modern America was here with the Indians when the first white scientific immigrants landed, but the Indians did not have enough science to make use of their opportunities. Result: The Indians disappeared and the scientific white men inherited the earth." A more sophisticated article by Emest Nagel in the Saturday Review of Literature, April 7, 1945, also emphasized the importance of indefatigable critical reflection for scientific research. Scientists, Nagel believed, “must endeavor to act as the high priests, if not the embodiments, of intelligence and rationality."

Scientists were also viewed as determined, dedicated, and self-sacrificing. Their determination was evident in their willingness to undertake years of training and rigorous adherence to the scientific method.26 Devoted researchers were often portrayed as having made great sacrifices to pursue their work. 27 Scientific progress, according to the Cincinnati Enquirer of July 8 came from the “quiet, undramatic laboratories of scientific men and women who are devoting their careers to research." The editor of the Saturday Evening Post (June 2) noted that because the scientist "is not much of a squawker in his own behalf, we have ignored his right to be heard."

While highly praiseworthy, the scientists' dedication to their work was also viewed as slightly odd. Malcolm Bingay in the Detroit Free Press of July 20 noted their variance from the norm in a capitalist society by emphasizing that scientific work was undertaken without thought of reward. The Saturday Evening Post of June 2 mentioned a scientist who "is seeking new problems to solve, not for the financial reward, but because technologists are made that way." This tendency toward unorthodox behavior was predicted as the source of future difficulty by at least one writer. The editor of the Baltimore Sun on August 4 wondered how government support would function since "scientific research is a peculiar business, not subject to the humdrum rules governing most fields of human activity ... how can Congress be persuaded to continue its support for people who do not think as

26 Grand Rapids Press, July 26, 1945. 27 Worcester Gazette, July 24, 1945.

other people think, nor act as other people think [sic], and most of whom seem to be frittering away their time to no advantage anyway?"

In 1940 Archibald MacLeish had compared scholars with the scientist who was indifferent to values and "a refugee from consequences, an exile from the responsibilities of moral choice." 28 In 1945 the same lack of concern with consequences was still attributed to scientists, but usually without MacLeish's negative implications. An author describing the research director of the United States Rubber Company noted he "prefers ideas to people" but regarded this as an expected part of the nature of the scientist.29 Ernest Nagel also believed that isolation from social concerns was essential for the scientist. He explained that scientists "must be able to consider the weight of the evidence for a proposed solution of a problem on its intrinsic merits, uninfluenced by considerations of personal and social gain or loss." 30 The belief that scientists were not accountable for the social consequences of their discoveries was shown in a more subtle

28 Archibald MacLeish, "The Irresponsibles," The Nation, May 18, 1940, p. 622.

29 Clarence Woodbury, "Dresses From Chicken Feathers," American Magazine, Oct. 1945, p. 33.

30 Ernest Nagel, "Science--With and Without Wisdom," Saturday Review of Literature, Apr. 7, 1945, p. 8.

manner as well. The moral responsibility of scientists for their wartime accomplishments was not widely discussed in the lay press. This is perhaps to be expected with regard to Allied scientists while the war continued. Enemy scientists, however, were also described in a manner implying they had simply done what was expected of them.31

Scientists were thus a somewhat strange group but a valuable national resource. They had a particular kind of intellect that required long and diligent preparation to bear fruit. Their unorthodox tendencies posed no threat because they were interested only in the quiet pursuit of their work. If supported and left alone, they could be counted on to produce great benefits for the American people.

In July 1945 Americans were prepared to support some form of federal aid to science after the war. Science had played an influential role in the war and was expected to continue to make important contributions to the nation's security, health, and economy. Believing that its potential was virtually unlimited, and regarding each of these ends as equally desirable, laymen did not insist that scientific efforts be concentrated in a particular area. The govern

31 Missoula Missoulian, July 29, 1945; Jacksonville TimesUnion, July 23, 1945.

ment was to provide support for a broad range of scientific research. Although Americans were largely unconcerned with the means employed, they assumed that government support was not incompatible with scientific freedom. Scientists were regarded as uniquely talented but eccentric. They were believed to have no interests or expertise outside their laboratories.

After July 1945 this vague, open-ended image of science gradually narrowed in a way that had profound implications for future policy. The layman's assessment of science and its relationship to the federal government was affected by the atomic bomb and, gradually, by the cold war. The awesomeness of the bomb made atomic energy synonymous with science for many. The release of atomic energy escalated the public's hopes and at the same time introduced an element of fear. During the two years after Hiroshima, however, the hopes for abundance and the articulated sense of terror diminished considerably. What remained was a paradoxical realization that science would make a World War III infinitely more terrible but at the same time would be the key to prevention or victory. Since science was essential to security, scientific secrecy took precedence over freedom of research. The endless frontier was therefore limited as science became more and more identified with national security.

The revelation of the atomic bomb also affected the structure of federal support for science. Initially, popular support for a national science foundation intensified. This advantage was soon lost, however, as scientists and laymen focused on atomic energy legislation. Federal support for basic research seemed to be of less immediate importance than discovering a means to control the awesome new force. Furthermore, while Americans assumed that any expansion of scientific research would be ben

eficial, they but vaguely understood the significance of basic research. Awed by the scale of the Manhattan Project, the public did not become equally excited about programs that did not promise similar coups. As a result, it was 1950 before a limited, inadequately funded National Science Foundation was created. In the interim, instead of a broad program of coordinated, basic research, the nation developed a pluralistic, goal-oriented structure that responded primarily to lay perceptions of immediate needs.

The atomic bomb and the increasing importance of science for national security also affected the image of scientists. First, since scientific understanding required special talents and long training, many laymen decided that even a rudimentary comprehension of atomic energy was beyond their ability. This initially contributed to the scientists' enormous prestige, but it also encouraged misleading simplifications that obscured the essential issues. At the same time, this image of the nature of scientific expertise made it relatively easy to argue that scientific prestige was not properly transferable. Since scientific expertise was the product of a particular type of intellect and intensive training, scientists were not necessarily more knowledgeable than laymen when discussing nonscientific matters. If anything, their isolation in laboratories could be viewed as making them less fit to issue pronouncements on public policy. Furthermore, after the atomic bomb, the importance of scientific secrets for national security made scientific unorthodoxy appear dangerous rather than simply eccentric. In years of increasing SovietAmerican hostility, the American people became less willing to defend scientific freedom and more anxious to ensure that the cornucopia of science served a single end.