307In 1940, Howard Roelofs, then Wilson Professor of Ethics and chair of the
Philosophy Department at the University of Cincinnati, recalled his up-
bringing as a “Trinitarian.” “The members of the Trinity,” he wrote, “were
God, my Father, and Scientifi c Method.” Understanding God presented
no particular problem. He “went to church regularly and received pepper-
mints during the sermons.” He found the Bible and occasional “theologi-
cal expositions” from his father and the minister “fascinating and intel-
ligible.” His father offered a harder puzzle. “God was good, my Father was
intelligent; and the latter I found more perplexing than the former.” Yet,
here too, Roelofs was able to achieve an understanding suffi cient for his
needs. Scientifi c method proved a much more diffi cult challenge. When
Roelofs put the matter to his father, who loved to invoke the scientifi c
method as the solution to all kinds of problems from ineffi cient govern-
ment to defi cient education, the paternal reply would be, “think about
it.” Presumably the answer would come. Unfortunately, it did not. As he
emerged from childhood, Roelofs realized with some horror that “I not
only did not know what Scientifi c Method was but that to my knowledge
I had never used it.” This epiphany started him on a frequently frustrating
quest for the true nature of the scientifi c method, a search that lasted well
into his college years.^1
We can take several lessons from Roelofs’s refl ections. The prominent
place of “Scientifi c Method” in his upbringing was perhaps far from av-
erage—he recalled mentioning the third member of his trinity on the
CHAPTER 12Scientifi c Methods
Daniel P. Thurs