Science always has occupied a special niche in society because of its perceived and proven truth value, which comes from its ostensibly unbiased, rigorous, accurate, precise, dispassionate, and metaphysical nature. After all, isn't science practiced in laboratories and universities quite apart from the "real world," the world of opinion, supposition, business, politics, and religion? But is it? As discussed in this chapter, the answer is "no," because science, in many senses, is a social endeavor, one subject to the vagaries of personal bias, the quest for recognition and funding, peer and social pressure, and tradition. Science may indeed be special relative to other endeavors, but this does not mean that its product – knowledge – should be accepted without question. Science can be wrong, but only temporarily, as it is a self-correcting enterprise that, in light of continual hypothesis testing, eventually fixes its own errors.

Science is distinguished from other endeavors by the scientific method, which starts with curiosity and leads sequentially from hypothesis to experimental testing to hypothesis revision, and finally, to knowledge. This chapter traces the development of the scientific method from ancient Egypt, Greece, the Islamic world, Europe (beginning in the Middle Ages), and the modern world (eighteenth to twenty-first century). It shows how the method became increasingly rigorous and precise through codification of its practice and the use of statistics in data analysis. The contributions of philosophy to the method and its possible senescence, in the light of data-driven science, also are discussed.

How does a person curious about or wanting to do science learn it? The thesis of this book is learning science requires not only digging deeply into the subject but learning how to learn. It is not enough to learn facts about the history of science or to study chemistry, biology, or physics per se. One must also have a sense of the roles of psychological and social factors in science. We can read about the development of Newtonian mechanics or quantum physics, but that does not tell us why Newton, or Planck, Bohr, Born, or Heisenberg studied these subjects in the first place or what thought processes they used in their work. It does not tell us how their personalities and intuition drove their work. It also does not tell us why the work of these scientists was or was not accepted by the scientific community, rightly or wrongly. Most importantly, it does not tell us why we think we know what we do or even if what we study is real. Epistemology and metaphysics are required here. This chapter explains why such knowledge is obligatory if one is to do science well.

This book is a novel synthesis of the philosophy and practice of science, covering its diverse theoretical, metaphysical, logical, philosophical, and practical elements. The process of science is generally taught in its empirical form: what science is, how it works, what it has achieved, and what it might achieve in the future. What is often absent is how to think deeply about science and how to apply its lessons in the pursuit of truth, in other words, knowing how to know. In this volume, David B. Teplow presents illustrative examples of science practice, history and philosophy of science, and sociological aspects of the scientific community, to address commonalities among these disciplines. In doing so, he challenges cherished beliefs and suggests to students, philosophers, and practicing scientists new, epistemically superior, ways of thinking about and doing science.

If one reads about science, writes about science, or teaches science, one should know about the whats, hows, whens, and whys of science. What is science? How is it done? When is science needed? Science seeks to understand and systematize the natural world. It does so experimentally, using test tubes, computers, and animals (including humans), among other things. Curiosity and necessity drive science. Since ancient times, people have wanted to understand and then manipulate their world. For example, science has provided the means to painlessly and noninvasively look into the human body through the development of X-rays, magnetic resonance imaging, computed tomography, and scintigraphy (radioisotopes). Electronics and materials science have enabled creation of cell phones. Chemistry has given us therapeutic drugs, Teflon, and Velcro. Physics and engineering have taken us to the Moon, Mars, and beyond. This broad scope of science makes it difficult, but not impossible, to define. This chapter provides a holistic view of science.

The central message of the introduction is one must understand science if one wants to do science well. This requires a holistic educational approach, one that not only teaches the whats and hows of science, but most critically, it's whys. Why is the sky blue? Why do normal cells turn into cancer cells? Why do we use the scientific method and from where did it come? Why would one want to be a scientist in the first place? Why is science done in the way it is, that is, what is the gestalt of science? The whats and whys of science are practical in nature. The whys, in contrast, encompass theoretical, philosophical, historical, and social underpinnings of science. The whys are particularly important now when the probity and veracity of science are being attacked, and people seek to replace actual facts with "alternative facts" (falsehoods) for political, religious, or economic purposes or out of plain ignorance.

This chapter details the practical, theoretical, and philosophical aspects of experimental science. It discusses how one chooses a project, performs experiments, interprets the resulting data, makes inferences, and develops and tests theories. It then asks the question, "are our theories accurate representations of the natural world, that is, do they reflect reality?" Surprisingly, this is not an easy question to answer. Scientists assume so, but are they warranted in this assumption? Realists say "yes," but anti-realists argue that realism is simply a mental representation of the world as we perceive it, that is, metaphysical in nature. Regardless of one's sense of reality, the fact remains that science has been and continues to be of tremendous practical value. It would have to be a miracle if our knowledge and manipulation of the nature were not real. Even if they were, how do we know they are true in an absolute sense, not just relative to our own experience? This is a thorny philosophical question, the answer to which depends on the context in which it is asked. The take-home message for the practicing scientist is "never assume your results are true."