themselves by long processes of interplay, mutual adjustment and coordination, but even regulation of them ab extra is exceedingly difficult. In this matter the experience of the race in its age-long endeavors to regulate and organize such powerful drives as the sexual and parental instincts should be sufficiently illuminating, and the instincts of the typical inventor and discoverer seem to be every bit as imperative. The impossibility of organizing even a small body of investigators can be easily tested. Such bodies exist in our large universities, very small in comparison with the total number of investigators in the country, but large enough, if organized, to determine and control the whole policy of their respective institutions. But if any investigator attempts to organize such a body for such a purpose or for any other of mutual advantage, he will at once find his efforts frustrated or, at any rate circumvented, by a lot of individuals, turgid with peculiar instincts, emotions and purely personal interests and as blind to their collective interests as an equal number of soft-shell clams. Furthermore, it is important to note that the difficulties of organizing are greatly increased by the skeptical and critical attitude of mind which the investigator is bound to cultivate and the defective development of certain dispositions in his constitution, such as the gregarious instinct and the instinct of self-abasement and susceptibility to suggestion, propaganda and leadership, which render other men. SO prone or at least so accessible to social, religious and political organization.

2. Attempts at organizing investigators must fail because their highly specialized activities depend to such a great extent on their peculiar native aptitudes or capacities. The organizers are willing to admit that they are baffled by the geniuses, but

these are dismissed as very rare birds, notwithstanding the fact that their influence on the trend of scientific research is out of all proportion to their numbers. The great majority of investigators appear on superficial acquaintance to be such commonplace, unassuming specimens of humanity that it would seem that they and society in general could only be greatly benefited by having their problems "assigned" and their investigative efforts directed, controlled and organized. This notion seems to me to be due to a singularly defective insight into the peculiar psychology of investigators. No one who has had long and intimate relations with these men can fail to be impressed with the extraordinary diversity of their aptitudes, and nothing is more evident than that these aptitudes must be permitted to express themselves not only with the greatest freedom, but even in the most whimsically personal manner. Nor can any one who is running a laboratory fail to notice that he can secure the fullest enthusiasm, devotion and team-play from all his men only on the condition that all considerations are absolutely subordinated to the ideals of research. He knows that some investigators can do their work best with a slow, uniform and apparently nevertiring motion, others with a ravenous, carnivore-like onrush, accompanied by an expenditure of vitality so magnificent that they have to loaf for a considerable period before they can store sufficient energy for another onslaught on their problem, and that there are many others whose investigative activities are of an intermediate and more evenly rhythmical type. Yet men of such diverse aptitudes and habits of work can be easily induced to live in harmony and accomplish much valuable work if any suggestion of such things as punctuality, punching time-clocks and other efficiency

wild. Certainly the many members of our numerous natural history, ornithological, entomological, malacological, botanical and mycological clubs, who hold monthly meetings and contribute modestly but effectively to the sum of our knowledge, regard themselves as anything but "solitary" workers. That designation would seem to be more applicable to some of the professionals in our universities and research institutions.

Of course, the organizer who has been. stung by the efficiency bug, is troubled by all this diffuse and elusive activity and counters with the assertion that organization would save duplication of effort and direct it to problems of fundamental importance. This takes for granted a knowledge of the fundamental problems on the part of the organizer and a most enviable intuition of the means adapted to their so> lution, or, at any rate, seems to imply that working on fundamental problems means eo ipso making important discoveries and inventions. The contention that we must avoid duplication of effort must have had its origin in a machine shop or a canning plant, for it certainly never originated in the brain of any investigator worthy of the name. That the establishment of the simplest item of our knowledge not only requires duplication, but reduplication and re-reduplication of effort, is too obvious to require discussion, as is also the fact that we always regard the agreement in the results of two or more investigators working independently as presumptive evidence of truth. I would similarly pass over the further implication in the arguments of the organizers, that the only value of an investigator's work lies in the scientific data and conclusions which it contains, and that we are not concerned with its unconscious revelations of habits of thought, personality, etc. The perusal of the works of the

great amateur entomologists, Réaumur and Fabre, might be recommended for those whose minds are in such a ligneous, arenaceous or argillaceous condition.

The suggestion that scientific research may be advantageously organized naturally leads one to consider those other great human activities, religion and art, which are also bound up with powerful instincts, emotions and interests. Certainly religion, especially in the form of dogma and ritual, has been so superbly organized semper ubique et omnibus, since it first arose in the totemism, taboo and magic of our savage ancestors, that it would seem to constitute a wonderful field for the study of both the blessings and curses of organization. It is, in fact, a field in which organization could be readily introduced and maintained owing to the proneness of so many human. beings to suggestibility, credulity, the gregarious instinct, the instincts of self-abasement and fear, and the sentiments of awe and reverence-all of which, be it noted, are singularly feeble or defective in the investigator. The same conclusion would seem to follow from the very different view of some of the Freudians who state that all religions are permeated by a subterranean feeling of guilt and that "this absolutely unfailing presence of the feeling of guilt shows us that the whole structure of religion is erected on a foundation of repression of instinct." That the perfection of organization so characteristic of religion. may have been beneficent in other times may be admitted, but the more nearly perfect an organization, the less it is able to adapt itself to changing conditions, and the World War has disclosed to all thinking men the same kind of hopeless, resourceless

11 Cf. O. Rank and H. Sachs, "The Significance of Psycho-analysis for the Mental Sciences.'' Transl. by C. R. Payne. Nervous and Mental Disease Monographs, No. 23. N. Y., 1916, p. 71.

overspecialization in our ecclesiastical organizations as that with which the biologist is so familiar in archaic, moribund and actually extinct species. At the present time the Church seems to be about as well adapted to piloting the great forces which are impelling society as is a two-toed sloth to piloting an airplane or a manatee the Twentieth Century Limited. Like the Edentate and the Sirenian the Church exhibits such feebleness of volition and muscular tonus and such a low ebb of creative energy, that one is inclined to find a modicum of truth in the aphorism which H. G. Wells saw posted by the bolsheviki on one of the houses in Moscow: "Religion is the opium of the people."

What a different picture is presented by that other great field of human activity, in which the instinct of workmanship and the creative imagination attain their finest and most unrestrained expression-the field of art! Its very life seems to depend on freedom from all imposed organization. Hence its plasticity and adaptability in all ages and places, its resilience and prompt resurgence after periods of conventionalization, or overspecialization. Unlike the religious person who seems always to be mistrusting his instincts, or the scientific investigator who is so sophisticated that he ignores them, the artist takes them to his bosom, so to speak, and in all his works. tries to persuade the rest of the world to do the same. He thus becomes the ally of creative Nature herself and while himself capable of such control and restraint as are demanded in the harmonious execution of his work, quickly resents the slightest suggestion of restraint or control from the outside. This is so well known that one would find it more entertaining than informing to hear the comments of a lot of painters, sculptors, composers, poets, novel

ists and actors-and especially of a actresses or prime donne-if some Na Art Council had the temerity to s that their work could be greatly imp by organization.

The history of science and philosop not without significance in connection the attempts of modern organizers. well known that both, after their twin and brilliant childhood among the G lived through a kind of stupid Babyl captivity as hand-maidens to the Med Church, which had been so successful ganizing itself that it naturally tri organize everything else. But SC turned out to be such an obstreperous incorrigible tomboy that she long sing gained her freedom, and philosophy, th she had been treated with more consi tion, and may still occasionally flirt longer, outside of our Jesuit college least, sits down to spoon with theolog she did in the days of St. Thomas of A

Times have changed so greatly tha present we even have eminent amat like the Rev. Erich Wasmann, S.J., vie with Haeckel in the boldness of evolutionary speculations. Scientific search is no longer concerned with Church but with the two great f which are contending for the master the modern world, labor and capital. present plight of the Russian investig shows us, perhaps, what we may e when certain communistic ideals of 1 are put into practise, and Veblen's acc of the evolution by atrophy of the cre artisan of former centuries into the mo factory operative, whose life has bee duced by capital, machinery and effici experts to one long hideous routine in' overspecialized task, shows us, per what we may expect when nothing money talks.

Even if the investigator could hold aloof and adopt a policy of watchful waiting, till the world is controlled by either labor or capital or, as seems more probable, by some compromise between them, he would still be in an unfortunate position. Since both labor and capital are primarily concerned. with production, we should expect both to center their interests on applied research, or invention and to neglect research which is fundamentally concerned with discovery. This would be unfortunate, because the two kinds of research can be most fruitful only in symbiosis, for the neglect of discovery must lead to impoverishment of the theoretical resources of the inventor, of the inventor, and purely theoretical research strongly tends to become socially ineffective. We have as yet, I believe, no concise information in regard to labor's attitude to so-called pure research. The attitude of the capitalist, or business man seems to be much more definite. His activities, like those of the investigator, are bound up with certain powerful, highly conditioned instincts, emotions and interests, some of which have been elucidated by Taussig.12 He believes that the business man is driven mainly by the acquisitive instinct, centered of course on pecuniary profits, the instinct of domination or predation, the instinct of emulation, in the special form of social emulation, and the instinct of devotion or altruism. Undoubtedly we must recognize also the importance of the instinct of workship as a powerful drive in many eminent business men, but both it and the instinct of devotion are, of course, apt to be directed to practical matters or to those which yield immediate returns, such as philanthropy, charity, medicine, etc. Apart from certain notable exceptions, business 12''Inventors and Money-Makers," N. Y., Macmillan Co., 1915.

men may, therefore, be expected to favor invention and to take little interest in discovery, except when it relates to natural resources capable of exploitation.

These considerations lead me to the opinion that so long as our present society endures adequate financial and other support for research in its most comprehensive form will be forthcoming only after the general community has thoroughly grasped the fact that of the four great fields of human endeavor, science, art, religion and philosophy, science is of the most overwhelming social value in the sense that the welfare of every individual, physically, mentally and morally, absolutely depends on its developments, or in other words, on scientific research. To saturate the general public with this conviction is a formidable task and one that can be accomplished only by a slow process of education.

There is also another aspect of the subject which I can best make clear by returning to that form of organization which we observe inhering in individual animals and plants and in the societies of the former. Occasionally we find such organisms so highly integrated, differentiated or specialized as seriously to impair their powers of adaptation. When such a condition is reached, the organism either persists without phylogenetic change, if its environment remains stable, or soon becomes extinct, if its environment changes. Most organisms, however, retain a lot of relatively unorganized, or more or less generalized structures and functions as reserves for prospective adjustments to the changing environment. Our own bodies still contain many such primitive elements, like the white blood corpuscles, the undifferentiated connective tissue, dermal and glandular cells, and in larval insects we find even undifferentiated nerve cells. And we all carry with