Suchergebnisse

Argues that Western Europe will be the first to bear the brunt of a revolutionary societal change in which work will exist only for the privileged minority and the large majority will be unemployed.

The Applied Physics Laboratory (APL) of The Johns Hopkins University serves as an illustrative example of a large laboratory sponsored by a military service—the U.S. Navy—that is owned and operated by a major research university. After an examination of how APL functions within Johns Hopkins, the positive side of the relationship is examined. It is found primarily in the combination of national service and research and teaching collaboration with the University's academic divisions. The primary negatives are public controversy and the risks and burdens of the University's obligation. The position of The Johns Hopkins University has been and remains that classified research is not necessarily inconsistent with the purposes of the University and that a major public service is legitimately rendered by the contributions to national defense made by APL to the Navy, within limits set by the University.

It is only fair to begin with an admission that a few years ago I would have regarded the title of this paper as an impossible self-contradiction. Scholarship was one concept; activism another. In those days, the two concepts appeared to me to be incompatible. One could, of course, expect to encounter activists who had been scholars, or who had at least received scholarly training; but one would not expect to find a scholar who was an activist at the same time. In the simplest and most general terms, scholarship implied withdrawal, and activism meant involvement. This, at least, was the tradition with which I was familiar. True, there was such a thing as it applied scholarship, but this applied to subjects with which I was not very familiar, nor was I very comfortable with the concept. It seemed to me that the scholar who was overly concerned with the application of his scholarship was not a true scholar and that he stood in danger of compromising his scholarly objectivity and integrity. Obviously, this was the point of view of a rather standard traditionalist, trained in a study of government which had deep roots in the orthodoxy of the humanities and – in my case — lesser roots in the social sciences, which in my student days still seemed more social than scientific.