The 1960s and 1970s were a time of great change in this country and in Europe. A number of historical and cultural events gave birth to movements that challenged long-held beliefs, practices, institutions, and supposed verities. The practice and institution of “science” was no exception. Cultural critique of science at this time resisted the traditional philosophical analysis of science as purely logical and empirical and attempted to uncover the oppressive and discriminatory elements of science relating to race, class, culture, and gender. Modern science, as a product of the Enlightenment, is supposed to be coldly rational, progressive, and antiauthoritarian. Yet, by the late 20th century, due to much of scientific research being funded and co-opted by the government (especially in terms of defense) and corporations, science had come to be seen, rather, as part of the status quo (Godfrey-Smith, 2003). No longer progressive and antiauthoritarian, science had come to be seen as part of the power structure—particularly, the White, middle and upper class, male power structure. Any single one of these critiques—from race, class, culture, or gender—would be worthy of study here. But we will focus on gender as, in the words of feminist philosopher of science Sandra Harding (1935−), “gender difference is the most ancient, most universal, and most powerful origin of many morally valued conceptualizations of everything in the world around us” (1986, p. 17). As genders exist in all cultures, classes, and races, gender issues cut across all of these. In addition, many feminist philosophers of science integrate these other cultural concerns and differences into their analyses and arguments, because women qua women are affected also by differences in culture, race, and class. It is important to note that feminists do not simply wish to criticize science or merely to destroy its authority, which in essence would mean to destroy science itself. Rather, most feminists merely resist “science in so far as it reflects and contributes to the maintenance of existing social inequalities between the sexes” (Sayers, 1981/2000, p. 230). The goal then is to improve science by removing its prejudices and blind spots, by making it more inclusive in a variety of ways. Along these lines, many feminists were clearly influenced by the other mid- to late- 20th-century criticisms of science, from Quine’s criticism of empiricism’s dogmas to Hanson’s critique of observation to Kuhn’s challenge to science’s presumed objectivity, rationality, and progress. The most interesting feminist work, however, moves from mere criticism of presumptions and cherished beliefs to a restructuring of science and knowledge acquisition in a more holistic, more inclusive, perhaps less presumptuous manner.

WOMEN’S CONTRIBUTIONS TO SCIENCE

The most basic, although more historical than philosophical, criticism of feminists is the neglect of the contributions of women to science. As science has traditionally been a pursuit of men, the great heroes of modern science have been men (Copernicus, Galileo, Newton, Boyle, Bohr, Einstein, Watson, Crick, etc.) and the history of science has been recorded largely by men. It follows that the focus has been on the contributions of men. The view of women as emotional and less rational has also contributed to this neglect. If women are seen as not having the intellectual capacity for contributing to science, it is unlikely that any real contributions would be acknowledged when they do occur. Feminist historians and philosophers of science then have taken it on themselves to uncover and publicize the forgotten and ignored contributions of women, what feminist and zoologist Sue Rosser (1989) calls “compensatory history” (p. 5). They have taken a number of different approaches toward this goal. One approach is what Sandra Harding (1991) calls the “women worthies” approach. This approach focuses on great women who have made singular and important contributions to scientific progress and discovery: for example, Ann Sayre’s Rosalind Franklin and DNA (1987), exposing the largely uncredited and unappreciated work of Franklin in discovering the structure of DNA. Some feminists, however, find this approach too close to the “great men” approach to history and thus too androcentric in style, too exclusionary in presuming (as male-oriented history has) that history is made solely or primarily by supposed great individuals and not by collectivities of people at all levels of culture and society. So, some feminists advocate instead an approach that reveals the contributions that are “less public, less official, less visible, and less dramatic” (Harding, 1991, p. 26).¹ Often women have contributed in relatively more modest, unsung ways as assistants, technicians, or even through “domestic support” to famous (male) scientists (Hubbard, 1989; Schiebinger, 1987). Also included in this approach is sometimes a revisiting of the demarcation question, interpreting many traditional activities and duties of women as sciences, or as gynocentric sciences. Such activities include midwifery, cooking, and homemaking; according to Ginzberg (1989), if they had been activities associated with men they would have been called “obstetrical science, food science, and family social science” (p. 71). Whether or not that speculative and subjunctive claim is true, a more interesting part of this approach is the claim that these activities are more than simple, mundane chores and that real, effective, and consistent knowledge has been generated by these activities. A third approach broaches more philosophical questions. This approach is epitomized by biophysicist Evelyn Fox Keller (1983) in her work A Feeling for the Organism: The Life and Times of Barbara McClintock. On the surface, this book may appear to follow the “great men” approach labeled as androcentric by some feminists. But what Keller did that was different was to demonstrate McClintock’s different, even feminine/feminist way of thinking and approaching scientific investigation. In studying genetics, she challenged the (male) Master Molecule model and “focused on the interaction between the organism and its environment as the locus of control” (Rosser, 1989, p. 9). In other words, rather than an authoritarian, one-dimensional view of genetics as controlled by the DNA molecule, she worked from a more inclusive, holistic, interactive position, one which also reflected “a unity with and deep reverence for nature” rather than a more masculinist attempt to conquer nature (Schiebinger, 1987, p. 16). This approach, according to Keller (1983), allowed McClintock to make discoveries that likely would not have been made with a more masculine approach to investigation.

THE LACK OF WOMAN SCIENTISTS

Similar to the concern for the neglect of female contributions to science in the past is a concern for the ratio of women presently in science. According to Rosser (1991/2000) and the U.S. Congress’s Office of Technology Assessment, women constituted only 9% of scientists and engineers in this country in 1976. By 1986 that number had increased to 15%. According to the National Science Foundation (National Science Foundation, 2008), in 2006 39% of doctorate holders in science and engineering were women. However, “women were higher fractions of people employed in temporary positions than of those in top leadership positions” (National Science Foundation, 2008). The reasons for this underrepresentation are manifold. The most obvious of course is the traditional dearth of women in the sciences and the already noted neglect of the women that there have been. But feminists point to other problems. Some charge that the manner in which science is taught in primary and secondary schools is often exclusionary as being geared toward boys and young men (Rosser, 1991/2000). Some suggestions to ameliorate this situation include removing sexism from textbooks, increasing the number and length of observations, considering problems outside the traditional scope of science (especially from female-dominated fields like nursing and home economics), and focusing on gender in hypothesis formulation (Rosser, 1991/2000, pp. 395–399). Some of these suggestions focus on a deeper question already alluded to in the reference to Keller’s book mentioned earlier. The reason female students are less likely to enter scientific fields, some argue, is that science and scientific education reflect “male ways of thinking,” which are not commensurate with “women’s ways of knowing,” which in fact was the title of a well-known book on this subject (Belenky, Clinchy, Goldberger, & Tarule, 1997). Echoing Kuhn, Ruth Hubbard argues that science is comprised of “accredited fact-makers” (1989, p. 120). That is, science is not merely the practice of great individuals but a “social enterprise” (Hubbard, 1989, p. 119). Science students are not merely guided to think in a purely rational manner but “socialized to think in particular ways” (Hubbard, 1989, p. 120). In addition, these students have traditionally been drawn from particular populations, especially the male, upper-middle and upper class, while generally excluding women and the working and lower-middle class. Hubbard in this way overturns the Enlightenment view of science as antiauthoritarian, progressive, and objectively unbiased and exposes it rather as “made, by and large, by a self-perpetuating, self-reflexive group: by the chosen for the chosen” (Hubbard, 1989, p. 120). What are sometimes called women’s ways of knowing tend to reflect the right hand side of the dyads we started with. As with Keller’s analysis of McClintock (1983), some feminists assert that women do not strive toward reduction, analyticity, and rational objectivity but instead think in more holistic manners that include the contribution of subjective, even value-oriented aspects. We take a closer look at some of these claims later.

MISREPRESENTATION AND NEGLECT BY SCIENTIFIC RESEARCH

Another criticism of exclusion involves the manners in which science has treated women as objects of study. These complaints are usually leveled at the biological, medical, and social sciences. In the past, the sciences of biology and medicine have claimed that women’s brains were smaller than men’s, thus implying the intellectual inferiority of women, and also asserted dubious medical problems based on women’s unique biology (Hubbard, 1989; Schiebinger, 1987). The biological differences between men and women have also been used to perpetuate women’s inferior social position by affirming the “anatomy is destiny” thesis, the notion that women’s capacity for reproduction mandates their restriction to home and hearth and less authoritative, more nurturing roles such as nurses, secretaries, and domestic help. Finally, a form of this complaint has been leveled against medical research that in various ways medical research underserves women and is geared more toward the interests of men. French existentialist philosopher Simone de Beauvoir wrote one of the most influential works in 20th-century feminism, The Second Sex. The meaning of that title is clearly reflected in this concern of feminist philosophers of science. What de Beauvior meant was that the male sex has been considered the norm, while “female” is always secondary, different, the other. This idea is reflected often in our language. Words such as “mailman,” “policeman,” “chairman,” “businessman,” convey a male presumption. We expect and assume those in these positions will be male. When they happen to be female, this is seen as an exceptional case. Some might defend these roles as traditionally male, so it makes sense to use such words. However, other words may be more difficult to defend. The term coed to refer to a female college student is still used and assumes that female college students are somehow unusual or out of the ordinary, when in fact women have overtaken the population of men in higher education. To refer to a female physician as a “female physician” rather than simply as a “physician” also reflects this attitude. Of course, a similar corollary way of thinking can be manifested by designations such as “male nurse” or “male secretary.” The difference is that these are traditionally less powerful positions than their presumed-male counterparts of physician and businessman. The point is that this is about more than just words, or that words themselves are about more than just words. This language reflects and perpetuates certain disparities in social power.

In regard to medical research, men have in many ways been taken as the norm, leading to what would appear to be an inconsistent practice in science. On the one hand, science has focused on, developed, and theorized on the inherent differences between men and women. On the other hand, medical research has often inferred from research performed solely on men and applied it to women, without taking into account how differences in female physiology might limit such application. One might point to a concern of using women as research subjects that reproductive functions could be affected. Yet Longino and Doell (1987) note male rodents are used in hormonal research, the results of which are then inferred to claims about human females. Feminists have complained of the focus of research on cardiovascular disease on men when cardiovascular disease is a serious problem for women. Alternatively, research on contraception has focused on women. This focus is interpreted as reflecting the assumption that due to anatomy, women are presumed to have the primary responsibility in reproduction and family planning. Little research beyond the condom has been done regarding men’s role in contraception, whereas the 20th century saw numerous technological advances in female-oriented contraceptives.

THE HOSTILITY OF SCIENCE TOWARD WOMEN

According to some feminists, the very nature and attitude of traditional science is not only biased toward men but even hostile toward women. Here, often many of the aforementioned dyads are appealed to. In particular, the association of men and culture and women and nature is often implied. Feminist historian of science Ludmilla Jordanova (1980), for example, points to a statue in Paris of a nude woman removing a veil inscribed, “Nature unveils herself before Science” (p. 54). With this aesthetic example, the metaphor of woman as nature is as explicit as it could ever be. This metaphor then transcends gender and sex and appeals to sexuality as well. The implicit idea seems to be that laying nature bare (discovering the secrets of nature) is similar to a woman physically baring herself. The woman is a passive object on which the male gaze operates and nature too is a passive object on which the scientist’s gaze acts. Evelyn Fox Keller (1985) and Sandra Harding (1986) take this line of argument further, both identifying Francis Bacon as particularly culpable in establishing this attitude in modern science. Bacon, an important and influential figure in early modern science, described the scientific mind as virile and masculine and nature as an object not only to be known but to be penetrated, dominated, and mastered (Keller, 1985). This language reflects (and ultimately perpetuates) many traditional views of men toward women. Not only does this possibly perpetuate negative attitudes toward women, but it may even lead to a somewhat limiting perspective of science in which humanity is seen as ontologically and irretrievably separate from nature. This separation, though due in large part to a presumably objective attitude of traditional science, which led to many discoveries and important advances, may also have prevented other insights and discoveries. This attitude is in direct opposition to that of Barbara McClintock as described by Keller (1983). Rather than separate from nature, McClintock saw humanity as one with nature, as having a subjective interest in nature, not an objective disinterest.

FEMINIST EPISTEMOLOGY: DO WOMEN REALLY THINK DIFFERENTLY FROM MEN?

To attribute differences, especially cognitive differences, between men and women can be quite controversial. Throughout the feminist movement of the 1960s and 1970s, most feminists downplayed and denied any difference between men and women (especially cognitive differences) in search of an androgynous political ideal in which women are equal in capacity to men and thus should have equal rights. By the 1980s, a new feminism arose that recognized potential problems with this androgynous political ideal. For one thing, women qua women may have needs distinct from those of men—particularly needs associated with childbirth and women’s health issues. An androgynous political ideal would be ill-suited to deal with such problems. Thus, in the 1980s, “difference feminism” rose. Difference feminists asserted that there are significant, politically and morally important differences between men and women. Often, these differences included cognitive differences. There is a risk in making such a claim that feminist critics of difference feminism pointed to: Such claims of difference risk affirming the old sexist claims of difference and inferiority that feminists began fighting against. But difference feminists argue that though women may be different from men, that fact, in itself, does not imply that women are inferior. “Different” may mean just that: simply different, not better or worse, although there are some feminists who go further and argue for the superiority of women.

To attribute differences between men and women raises another, important, difficult, and politically volatile question: What is the source of this difference? The classic, sexist assertions of difference were typically based on some notion of the essences or natures of men and women. That is, in some deeply ontological sense men and women are different. Often, these claims of essential difference (and the claims of inferiority they implied) were dubiously supported and rationalized through appeal to biological and medical sciences. Difference feminists tend to eschew these types of explanations for difference. Either such explanations are left open, or more social, sociological, or anthropological explanations are appealed to. This seems to be the case with those feminist philosophers of science who assert cognitive differences between men and women.

Three Feminist Epistemologies

As with any other question that feminism addresses, there is no one homogeneous feminist response. Sandra Harding (1986, 1987, 1991) identifies three general strains in feminist epistemology. The first she calls feminist empiricism. This is the most conservative of the three. Essentially, feminist empiricists accept the traditional standards of scientific empiricism. The standards, methods, and methodologies of science need not be changed or reconceived themselves. The criticism of feminist empiricists is that science itself does not live up to its ideals, that it “has not adhered rigorously enough to its own norms” (Harding, 1991, p. 113), specifically in relation to its attitude toward women and the contributions of women. Thus, the remedy is relatively simple: Identify those areas where science does not meet its own norms and encourage it to do better. In particular, the ideal of objectivity has often not been met by science in its dealings with women and women’s issues. The sexism and androcentrism found in science and scientific study are then adventitious elements that can be extricated merely by following the standards of logic and empiricism inherent to the true study of science.

Less conservative is the strain of feminist epistemology that Harding calls standpoint theory. According to standpoint theory, knowledge acquired by investigation will to some degree depend on or be influenced by one’s social status, role, or position. To put it simply, men and women look at the world differently and will produce different knowledge. Different perception and thinking asserted by standpoint theorists is caused not by biological differences but historical and social differences—particularly “men’s dominating position” as opposed to “women’s subjugated position” (Harding, 1986, p. 26). Further, and more controversial, standpoint theorists argue that the women’s point of view is not only different but superior, in relation to knowledge acquisition or construction, to men’s.

The most progressive strain is feminist postmodernism. As the name suggests, feminist postmodernists borrow from postmodern thinkers, including the Strong Program of the sociology of science and philosophers Michel Foucault, Jean-François Lyotard, and Richard Rorty, applying the insights of such thinkers to their own purposes. Like postmodernism in general, feminist postmodernism emphasizes the fractured, fragmented nature of existence and identity in the contemporary world. We are no longer composed of seamless, cohesive selves and traditions but fragmented collections of traditions and a sense of self that likewise lacks coherence and cohesiveness due to the variety of roles we play and the plurality of cultures we draw from in constructing our being. Due to such radical fragmentation, feminist postmodernism adopts a skeptical attitude toward universalizing claims, the power of reason, the assumption of progress (political and scientific), and essences and essentialism (Harding, 1986). Thus, the critique from feminist postmodernism goes further than the other two epistemologies, challenging not only traditional modern science but the very “assumptions upon which feminist empiricism and the feminist standpoint are based …”(Harding, 1986, p. 27).

Harding argues that the feminist empiricism is too conservative. Following traditional “norms of inquiry” is precisely what led us to developing sexist and androcentric sciences (Harding, 1986, p. 26). These parts of science are more than adventitious, more deeply embedded in scientific inquiry and scientific knowledge than feminist empiricists suppose. Therefore, a deeper, more radical approach is needed. Yet feminist postmodernism, in Harding’s estimation, goes too far. Feminist postmodernism would undercut the emancipatory goals of feminism and feminist philosophy of science. Postmodern analyses that attempt to show the world, selves, and knowledge as fractured and fragmented would preclude the identification or creation of the “one, true, feminist story of reality,” needed to provide coherence and direction to the movement. The relativistic views that seem integral to postmodernism would also, according to Harding, undercut the feminist epistemic goals of achieving “theories that accurately represent women’s activities as fully social, and social relations between the genders as real … components in human history” (Harding, 1986, p. 138).

Harding endorses standpoint theory. In a deep manner, the differences between men and women, she contends, are not merely differences among equals, which give no advantage to one side. Male perceptions of the world lead to understandings that are “partial and perverse,” whereas female perceptions result in “more complete and less perverse understandings” (Harding, 1986, p. 26). Ironically, this difference is due to men’s culturally superior position and presumed superiority in general (Harding, 1991). In our patriarchal society where men are the “first sex” and women the “second sex,” men and male views define the status quo and common wisdom. Women are positioned in something of an outsider position. Yet women are not complete outsiders. They are equivocally part and outside of culture and society, whereas men are more completely and integrally insiders. This equivocal position of women provides a unique perspective and perception. They can understand and partake in the male perspective, yet offer their own outsider perspective as well. As such, women can more readily perceive the prejudices and biases inherent to scientific study. As strangers to the social order of science, women are not as bound to the rules that have evolved around science as a social practice, which may provide unique creativity and insight. Further, as women have been oppressed, they would be less wont to maintain the status quo, again leading to further creativity and insight. Women, coming from positions of less power, can also provide a less lofty, intellectually removed, more grounded perspective based in the experiences of everyday life. Women’s standpoint as insiders/outsiders would be more prone to allow for the transcendence of the ideological dualisms we began with, whereas men would more likely be stuck on one side of those dualisms. All these advantages provide for, according to Harding, “a morally and scientifically preferable grounding for our interpretations and explanations of nature and social life” (Harding, 1986, p. 26). Harding emphasizes that the differences she identifies between men and women are not based on biology but socialization, so as to avoid the stereotyping and oppression that characterized androcentric views of the differences between men and women (Harding, 1991). Standpoint theory would ultimately lead to a redefinition of objectivity, in which an “objective” viewpoint is not presumed to be some ideal external position (a view from nowhere) outside of all interests and investment, but one that recognizes the greatest totality of perspectives, perceptions, and their attendant values, interests, and investments.

Subjectivity, Objectivity and the Values of Science

A common point of feminist epistemological critique is the subjective/objective dyad noted at the beginning of this chapter. Scientific/male thinking is traditionally assumed to strive for objectivity and eschew subjectivity. Objectivity presumes an independent standard, possibly even an independent reality, and a lack of bias (subjective interest) which provides for value-free inquiry, ensuring the most rationally supportable answers. Objectivity and value-free inquiry are assumed to provide for “the integrity and autonomy of scientific inquiry” (Longino, 1990, p. 5). That is, subjective or value-laden science would lack integrity and autonomy by not being ground in the pure search for objective truth but guided by what would be considered extraneous (political, moral, etc.) goals. It would not have integrity by having at one and the same time the presumed goal of the search for (objective) truth and some other personal, political, partisan goal that may not be consistent with a search for truth. It would not be autonomous from the presumption that science is identified with the search for objective truth. If some extraneous values or interests are influencing the direction of research or even inference, then science (particularly science as merely a logical and empirical practice) is not in control of its own investigation and conclusions. Thus, the traditional (male) view is that “value-laden or ideologically informed science is always bad science” (Longino, 1990, p. 7). Feminist philosophers of science often claim, however, that objectivity is a specifically male standard, not one connected to some neutered sense of non-gendered persons. Other feminist critiques include that objectivity does not provide all that seems promised by it. Finally, it is even claimed that in a real sense objectivity is not even a standard to realistically or practically strive for.

If it is the case that, for whatever reason, women’s thinking tends more toward the subjective than the objective, or that the very dichotomy of subjective/objective is a species of male thinking, then orienting science around objectivity may in fact exclude women from science and scientific studies. This sense of “exclusion” works along several dimensions. If women are largely understood, stereotypically or not, as being less than capable of objective thought, then women may not be accepted by the male scientific establishment, girls and young women may not be encouraged as students to enter the sciences, actual contributions of women to the sciences may not be accepted as science, and women themselves may not see science as a pursuit for which they are suited. Of course, the claim from feminists is typically framed not that women are less than capable of objective thought but that women’s thinking (due to biological factors, social factors, or some combination of the two) is more broadly encompassing, transcends the simple subjective/objective dichotomy, and embraces both objective and subjective elements. Further, but more generally, objectivity, as indicative of the status quo, would tend to reinforce and perpetuate the traditional exclusivity and marginalization that feminists have identified in science, making a continued commitment to objectivity and value-free inquiry, in the words of feminist philosopher Helen Longino (1944−), “not just empty, but pernicious” (1989, p. 54). And of course, if such exclusivity and marginalization is indeed part of science this fact begins to put into question the very claim that science and scientific investigation is truly (purely?) objective and value free.

In actuality it is a relatively uncontroversial claim to assert that science and scientific study is laden with some values. These values would include truth, accuracy, simplicity, predictability, and breadth. That is, what makes good science is that it is guided by the search for truth and/or produces true (or as true as possible) claims, that its claims and investigations are as precise and accurate as possible, that simpler explanations generally are preferred, that theories allow for prediction of future events and world-states, and that scientific claims and investigation be applied across a broad spectrum of reality and human experience. The reason that these values are not controversial and do not problematize science’s presumption of value-free inquiry is that these values are what Longino calls “constitutive values,” meaning that they are internal to science and essential to our very understanding of science, to its practice and progress (1990). As such, these values are more often assumed or taken as axiomatic than explicitly recognized as values. More controversial are feminist claims about “contextual values”: values within the personal, social, and cultural realms, belonging to “the social and cultural context in which science is done” (Longino, 1989, p. 48). Traditionally, constitutive values and contextual values are seen as “distinct and separable” (Longino, 1989, p. 48). Feminist approaches to epistemology can challenge this presumption, asserting instead that these two types of values are inextricable and intertwined and perhaps less distinguishable than previously thought. Following this challenge might then come a challenge to the presumption that inclusion of contextual values in scientific practice results in bad science, that inclusion of contextual values necessarily compromises the integrity and autonomy of science. In other words, contrary to traditional claims, science is not devoid of (contextual) values and is indeed value laden rather than value free. The problem is that science has largely failed to recognize this value ladenness. Such failure can lead to unintended bias—or once again, bias that intentionally or unintentionally reinforces the status quo, the prevailing power structure. The surprising conclusion of this line of reasoning, however, is that science, which does indeed include a masculine bias, may not necessarily be bad science (Longino, 1989).

One area in which contextual values seem unavoidable is in what to choose to study. Sometimes it may seem that scientific questions and problems simply present themselves. As we, as a race, as a people, travel through this world, problems and puzzles arise. We merely address those that confront us. There may be some scientific problems that can be described like this. But without a doubt many paths of investigation are intentional choices. These choices are guided not by mere human curiosity but cultural or personal values. There are many avenues to follow in scientific investigation. We cannot follow all of them. Science cannot be ruled by an attitude of complete disinterestedness, as objectivity is often defined. Otherwise, we would have no motivation for choosing any particular research project. Thus, contextual values will inevitably play some role in choosing what questions and puzzles to pursue. If the prevailing values in science are those of men, then there will likely be a bias toward men and against women in the choice of what to investigate.

Further, feminists also emphasize that knowledge acquisition is not the individualist act it is often conceived as in modern science and modern philosophy. This individualist view of epistemology traces back at least as far as René Descartes, who in his Meditations developed the concept of the lone, contemplative thinker, working out the problems of the world from within his own mind. This view has been unofficially adopted by science and the philosophy of science, as reflected in the “great men” approach to the history and philosophy of science. Popper, for example, seems to imply this view by his falsificationist view of science that lauds the great individuals who are able to innovate through critical experimentation. This view is in stark contrast to Kuhn’s view of “normal science” as exemplary of most science that is done. Normal science is the majority of scientific work done by the great mass of scientists and engineers working anonymously in labs—as opposed to the supposed greats whose names we remember. These normal scientists run their experiments, publish papers that lay people will never read or likely ever hear about, but they still may make important steps within intra-paradigm puzzle solving that contribute significantly to social knowledge. The feminist view is consistent with and likely influenced by this picture. Of course, the individualist picture has been contested throughout the modern history of both science and philosophy, because it is so obviously incomplete at best. Both philosophers and scientists employ journals, conferences, salons, and professional organizations to provide for and enhance interaction and discourse—all toward the goal of furthering knowledge acquisition and justification. But feminists have emphasized, more strongly than critics of the individualist picture of the past, the idea that scientific inquiry is a “group endeavor” (Longino, 1990, p. 13). The practice of science is not an individual one and the results are not the results of individual effort or individual application of reason. The contribution of society will inevitably bring with it the values and norms of that society. This will not simply include constitutive values like truth and accuracy but also the values inherent in the culture itself.

This line of thinking suggests that not only has science not been value free as has been supposed, but it cannot be. And if that is the case, we would have to reconsider our criteria for good science. To achieve pure, disinterested objectivity would require stripping away all context, interest, bias, preconceptions, in short subjectivity, from our perception, thinking, judgments, and inferences. The position of many feminist philosophers of science is that this stripping away is just not possible. We are, whether men or women, context-dependent, interested, tendentious beings with preconceptions that are not only an inevitable part of our thinking but even a necessary part. Many nonfeminist philosophers of science in the mid to late 20th century had already begun this form of critique. Feminist philosophers took it further and in a specific emancipatory direction. The work of Quine, Kuhn, and Feyerabend was influential in this regard. From Quine, feminists took the insight that empirically we cannot test any claim alone. The acceptance or testing of any claim presupposes a host of other claims (a web of beliefs), not all of which can be tested simultaneously. From Kuhn, they built on his insights into normal science and the inescapable influence of paradigm. And from Feyerabend, they were influenced by his radical openness to method. In time there was much influence and cross influence between feminists and postmodern thinkers.

“Awareness of our subjectivity and context,” writes Ruth Hubbard, “must be part of doing science because there is no way we can eliminate them” (1989, p. 127). Following the arguments of Quine and Kuhn, we cannot leave behind our subjectivity in any human activity, including science. It informs everything we do. Traditional philosophy and science has turned subjectivity into a bad word. And there may have been good reasons for this. But to believe that we can reduce ourselves to nothing more than objective perceivers who produce pure rational judgments is a patent denial of human nature. It also is another strategy for excluding women, as women have long been associated more with a subjective orientation than an objective one. Some feminists may also appeal to quantum physics to bolster this argument (Hubbard, 1989; Keller, 1985). Unlike Newtownian physics, quantum physics denies a clear subject/object distinction, which is the root of objective thinking. According to quantum physics, the very act of observation affects what is being observed. So, there can be no clear distinction between the two—no radical separation, no objective viewpoint, no stripping away of all subjective influence.

Certainly those feminists who critique science’s claims to objectivity do not typically advocate a complete abandonment of objective standards in favor of complete subjectivity. Such a position, most feminist philosophers of science realize, would be self-defeating. Validating mere subjectivity would mean exclusionary male views and practices are no better or worse than feminist views. That is, without some appeal to objective thinking and criteria, there would be no ground to stand on to criticize the traditional views and methods of science. Such subjectivism or relativism would undermine the feminist aim of identifying “the objective ways in which the sexism of our society affects its science both in its theory and in its practice” (Sayers, 1986/2000, p. 234). In addition, completely embracing subjectivity would destroy any attempts at demarcation or clear criteria for good science. In this case, any pursuit or belief system could be defined not only as science but good science. This might include nonscientific or discredited views and theories like vitalism, Lamarckism, creationism, or astrology. Instead, this critique usually leads to a blurring or transcendence of the subjective/objective distinction. True thinking and knowledge creation is neither purely subjective nor purely objective, but “an interplay between objectivity and subjectivity” (Hubbard, 1989, p. 119). Or, as Longino (1989) argues, objectivity itself should be “reconceived as a function of the communal structure of scientific inquiry rather than as a property of individual scientists” (p. 50). This communal reconception of objectivity brings in elements typical more of subjectivity, as well as a critique of the individualism that is part of the traditional male view of reasoning and science.

Recognizing the subjective elements of scientific thought has its own advantages. First, following Feyerabend, science would be more open, more pluralistic, more tolerant of “multiple, competing, complementary and partial explanations” (Rosenberg, 2005, p. 182). This attitude of openness, pluralism, and tolerance has the potential to bring in new ideas, leading to new and important insights into nature and humanity. Indeed, recalling modern science’s Enlightenment orientation as antiauthoritarian and progressive, one might think that such a result of rethinking science would be welcome. Second, and along the same lines, Longino (1990) argues that a more inclusive approach would lead to better theories, which both flow from and serve “the cognitive needs of a genuinely democratic community” (p. 214). Finally, recognizing the “assumptions, values and interests” (Longino, 1989, p. 54), not just the logic and empirical data, that shape our knowledge, rather than leaving them to lie under the surface, allows us to better guide scientific investigation to serve all people.

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