EUGENE GARFIELDlti ST ITUTE FO!3SC1E NT1F1C1NFORMAT 10N@

3501 MA URETST PHILADELPHIA PA 19104

Stopping to Think, and Other Strategiesfor Promoting Scientific Creativity

Number 27 July 2, 1990

In a two-part essay last fall, we examinedseverrd aspects of science and creativity. IDefinitions of creativity were discussed, aswere various factors that affect and promotecreativity, such as mentor relationships. Therole of creativity in scient~lc discovery wasalso examined. Finally, the essay consideredhow creativity seems to k. dampened by theformal, highly structured system of educa-tion and career development within whichmany scientists must work.

This last observation happens to serve,more or less, as the starting point for a paperby Craig S. Loehle, a research ecologist atthe Savannah River Laboratory, Environ-mental Sciences Section, WestinghouseSavannah River Company, Aiken, SouthCarolina. The paper, which appeared orig-inally in Bioscience, is reprinted here. z Ac-knowledging the many pressures and dis-tractions faced by working scientists today,Loehle offers a number of strategies aimedat fostering and improving scientific creativ-ity. Central to his premise is the idea thatcreativity is not strictly an inherent trait, butone that can be developed and cultivated.Among other matters, he discusses the im-portance of choosing the right problem, theneed to overcome mental and conceptualbarriers, and even the value of boredom andinactivity.

Loehle raxived his undergraduate degreein forest science from the University ofGeorgia, Athens, in 1976 and an MS in for-est management from the University ofWashington, Seattle, in 1978. In 1982 he re-ceived a PhD in mathematical mology fromColorado State University, Fort Collins. Henotes that the dominant themes of his re-search have been modeling methods, evo-

lutionary theory, plant-life history theory,and the philosophy of science, Before join-ing the Savannah River Laboratory, Loehlespent two years as a scientific programmer,writing program enhancements for theSPSS-X statistical software package. Topicson which he has published include catas-trophe theory, fractals, tree-growth form,and environmentrd-impact assessment meth-odologies.s He has also publishwi letters tothe editor in Nature; one of these, propos-ing that government funding agencies pro-vide grants to support a paid system of peerreview,4 was excerpted in ISp PressDigest last Novembers

In a 1985 essay, we examined meditationand its effects on learning and creativity. bSeveral studies cited in that essay, as wellas anecdotal evidence, suggested that med-itation and other contemplative experiencesdo have a beneficial effect on creative andproblem-solving abilities. In their bookScience As Cognitive Process, Robert A.Rubinstein, Charles D. Laughlin, Jr., andJohn McManus also touch on this point indiscussing what they refer to as the ‘‘intu-itive image in sudden insight and creation”:

Creative intuition generally seems to fol-low a long process of more convention-al, verbal wrestling with a problem. Thestructures of the mind work around, tryout, and examine a question from manysides. Yet it is usually during moments ofrest or distraction, when sympathetic ac-tivity is minimized and parasympatheticactivity increases, that the novel solutionis “seen,” often in the form of a visualimage or in a kinesthetic “feeling” for ananswer or solution.7

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As I concluded in the meditation essay,one should perhaps be wary of creating anoversimplified picture of this phenomenon—lest journalists, legislators, and the public”get the impression that all a scientist needdo to come up with a breakthrough idea istake a long walk or doze by the fire.

Loehle, while avoiding such simplisticthinking, does argue convincingly for thevalue of unstructured time and unhurried,undirected thinking. And, mentioning sev-eral eminent scientists who managed toswitch topics every few years, he also champ-ions the notion that researchers should notrestrict themselves to expertise in a single,narrow topic. Such ideas, as L&de admits,may seem impossible for the scientist whocannot avoid dealing with the concerns ofthe academic department, the tenure track,or the grant application. However, he doesoffer practical tips for working within theconfines of “the system. ”

It is impossible to say whether the pro-cess of learning and doing science will everconform to the “entirely different, flexibleapproach” envisioned by Loehle. But theideas he puts forward are certainly intriguingand worthy of further discussion.

As an interesting aside, I cannot resist ob-serving that, shortIy after reading Lode’spaper, I received a letler ffom Julian Lieb,a psychiatrist and immunopharmacology re-searcher who, along with Dorothy Hersh-man, an artist, wrote Zhe Key to Genius. 8Lieb enclosed a reprint in which he andHershman discussed the relationship be-tween creativity and manic-depression in thelife of Isaac Newton.g As Lieb pointed out

in his letter, l?se Key to Genius goes so faras to suggest that great success in the artsor sciences may be unattainable withoutmanicdepression. 10Kay R. Jamison, JohnsHopkins University Medical School, Brdti-more, Maryland, has also studied mood dis-orders in gifted people. 1I Clearly, thk is atopic with endless ramifications to which I’msure we’ll return again.

*****

My thanks to C.J. Fiscus and ChristopherKing for their help in the prepar~”on of thisessay.

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REFERENCES

1. GarPield E. Creativity and science. Parts 1 & 2. Currem Conwnts (43):3-7, 23 October 1989; (45):3-9, 6 November 1989,2. I.mhle C. A guide to increased creativity in research-inspiration or perspiration? Bioscience 40(2): 123-9, IS90,3. —---- Personal mmmutdcaticm. 7 May 19$0.4. —-—. Letter to editor, (Peer review (continued).) Narure 340(6235):588, 24 August 19S9.5. Paying peer reviewers. Current Gmtems (4S): 15, 27 November 19S9. (1S1 Press Digest.)6. Garfield E. Meditation, Leamdns, and creativity. Parts I & 2. ,!lmzys of an in@maticm ~cienrisf; gfumtwriting and otfwr

essays. Philadelphia 1S1 Press, 19S6. Vol. 8. p. 276-92. (Reprinted from: t%rem Comas (29):3-11, 22 July 1985:(30):3-10, 29 Jtdy 19S5.)

7. Rubinsteln R A, Lm@dSn C D & McManus J. Science m cognitive process. Philadelphia University of PennsylvaniaPress, 1984. p. 156.

8. Lieb J & Het’sbman D. 3’fu key m genius. Buffalo, NY: Prometheus, 1988.220 p,9. -—----- IWC Newton: mcrmmy peiwtung or manic depression? LQmeI 2:1479-80, 1983,

10. Lieb J. Personal comunicmion. 23 April 1990.11. Goodwin F K & .kmd.mn K R. ,Wmic-depressiw illness. New York: Oxford University Rem, 1990. 1,024 p

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Reprinkd with percussion from Bio.kience 40(2): 123.9, 1990.

A guide to increased creativity in research-inspirationperspiration?

by Craig Loehle

or

This pa~rpro~ws sUategies forpromoting scientific crmtivi~. After discussing the importanceof selecting the right problem or question to inv@.igate, tbe author examines ways of reducing blocksto creativity. Hedsotivises agtinst ~otigmex~fl inaskgle, nmowfield. ~evdueofun-hurried, undirected thintdng, and the benefits of activities that give rise to reflective thought-suchas walking-are also discussed.

T here are four requirements fora successful career in science:knowledge, technical skill,

communication, and originality or cre-ativity. Many succeed with largely thefirst three. Those who are meticulousand skilled can make a considerablename by doing the critical experimentsthat test someone else’s ideas or bymeasuring something more accuratelythan anyone else. But in such areas ofscience as biology, anthropology,medicine, and theoretical physics,more creativity is needed because phe-nomena are complex and multivariate.

Innovative scientists are held inhigh regard, but the means by whichthey achieve innovation are notspelled out in any manual for gradu-ate students. Courses on the scientificmethod (which few biology studentstake anyway) do not mention thesubject. Philosophers of science aremore concerned with formal theorystructure, proof, logic, and epistemol-ogy. Karl Popper (1963), for exam-ple, invokes the generation of alterna-tive hypotheses but says nothingabout where one is to get them.

The purpose of this article is topresent certain strategies that maypromote scientific creativity. Thepressures on scientists today opposetruly creative thinking. Pressures towrite grants, teach, and publish leavelittle time for undirected thinking. In-dustrial laboratories today are farmore directed than in the past, partic-ularly where costs per experiment are

high. I also want to counter thewidely held view that creativity issomething one is either born with orlacks, with no hope of training.

Choosing a problem

Perhaps the most important singlestep in the research process is choos-ing a question to investigate. What

‘w —

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Figure 1. Relationship between degree ofdifficulty and payoff from solving a prob-lem. Solving problems that are too easydoes not advance science, whereas thosethat are too difficult may be impossible forother scientists to understand, i.e., theyare premature. T’he Medawar zone refersto Peter Medawar’s (1967) reference toscience as “the art of the soluble.”

most distinguishes those scientistsnoted by posterity is not their techni-cal skill, but that they chose interest-ing problems. There is some guidancethat may be given.

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Picking fights. Science is supposed tobe an objective, dispassionate busi-ness. Students are advised to write inthe third person. Editors cut out com-ments that are too personal. All this isappropriate for the public face ofscience, rather like stiff turn-of-the-century photographs.

But let’s say you read a paper thatmakes you furious. Your anger is anindication that at some level you rec-ognize that here is a problem thatneeds resolution. The gut feeling thatthe other person is wrong, or thatthere is a better way to do it, is a goodguide to choosing an interesting topicfor yourself.

Setting out with irrational determi-nation to prove the author wrongprovides a drive that can allow you tobreak out of your preconceptions.Such base emotions can be a strongcreative force, causing you to dig deepand work intensely. After you havefinished writing your paper, you cango back and remove the commentsabout what an imbecile the other per-son is. The effort to refute someonecan even lead to evidence supportingthem or to a different topic alto-gether. Intensive rivalries, as in therace to discover DNA (Watson 1968),can also provide this essential inten-sity. Thus whereas the finished prod-uct may appear dispassionate, trulycreative work is often driven bystrong passions.

Where there’s smoke. A good strategyfor finding an interesting problem isto follow the fire trucks, because“Where there’s smoke there’s fire.”When there is intense debate on atopic, inconclusive or contradictoryexperiments, or terminological confu-sion, then things are probably ripe fora creative redefinition of the problemor application of a new method. If,however, your tendency is just tochoose sides. then vou are merelv, . .more kindling and should stay awayfrom the fire.

The Medawar zone. There is a gen-eral parabolic relationship betweenthe difficulty of a problem and itslikely payoff (Figure 1). Solving aneasy problem has a low payoff, be-cause it was well within reach anddoes not represent a real advance.Solving a very difficult problem mayhave a high payoff, but frequently willnot pay at all. Many pr~blems aredifficult because the associated toolsand technology are not advancedenough, For example, one may do abrilliant experiment but current the-ory may not be able to explain it. C)r,conversely, a theory may remain un-testable” for many years. Thus, theregion of optimal benefit lies at anintermediate level of complexity,what 1 call the Medawar zone inreference to Sir Peter Medawar’s(1967) ‘characterization of science asthe “art of the soluble. ” These inter-mediate problems have the highestbenefit per unit of effort because theyare neither too simple to be useful nortoo difficult to be solvable.

Robert H. MacArthur was a prom-inent ecologist, active in the 1960sand 1970s, who died young. Mac-Arthur was known not for being rightall the time, but for having an unerr-ing creative instinct for discoveringinteresting problems that were solv-able and for extracting the essence ofcomplex problems so that they be-came solvable. What is notable aboutsuch people is that even when theywere wrong, they are wrong in aninteresting way and on an interestingtopic.

The issue of what is interesting andwhat is solvable lies at the heart ofgreat discoveries and what we callgenius. Some who choose to grappiewith the big questions fail becausethey address problems not ripe forsolution. The more common problemafflicts the average scientist who shiesaway from really interesting problemsin favor of easier ones. Such intellec-tually timid scientists produce the

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bulk of T. S. Kuhn’s “normal sci-ence” (Kuhn 1970).

Working on too-easy problems isdisadvantageous both because no onemay notice your results (yawn!) andbecause easy problems often turn outto be merely pieces of a Iarger puzzleand only soluble in that context. Forexample, in the first x-ray pictures ofDNA (Watson 1968) two forms (Aand B, differing by water content ofthe sample) of diffraction patternwere evident. James Watson andFrancis Crick did not focus on ex-plaining or interpreting this differ-ence, but rather they focused on themore difficult problem of the DNAstructure. When that puzzle wassolved, the A and B patterns wereeasily interpreted.

When someone succeeds In fre-quently hitting the target (the Meda-war zone), that person will often ap-pear to be more intelligent than apure IQ test would indicate.1 To anextent, the feel for interesting prob-lems can be transmitted by contact,which justifies the graduate-student-as-apprentice practice and explainsthe fact that certain laboratories fer-ment with new ideas. Such labs areoften observed to fade away or returnto what is considered normal after thedeath or departure of the person orpersons who provided the creativespark.

The creative spark is not easily ob-tainable through the formal textbookportion of scientific training, and itmay not arise spontaneously. For ex-ample, Richard Feynman (1984) re-counts his experience as a visitingfaculty member in Brazil in the 1960s.Physics in Brazil was just gettingstarted. To outward appearances, thefaculty knew the facts. Library andlaboratory facilities were adequate.Yet there was almost a complete lackof comprehension of the process ofinnovation and discovery. Sciencewas a textbook exercise of learning

‘~. Loehle. 1990. manuscr)m submitted.

definitions rather than one of discov-ery, Even in the United States today,entire departments or disciplinessometimes get stuck in such a listlessstate.

Releasing creativity

Most people can learn to be far morecreative than they are. Our schoolsystem emphasizes single correct an-swers and provides few opportunitiesfor exploratory learning, problemsolving, or innovation. Suddenly,when one becomes a graduate stu-dent, however, it is expected that oneis automatically an independentthinker and a creative problem solver.I thus next focus on ways of encour-aging creative approaches and reduc-ing blocks to creativity.

Barriers to navigation. In the earlyfifteenth century, Prince Henry theNavigator of Portugal set out to ex-plore Africa and open it to Portuguesetrade (account in Boorstin 1983).Portuguese expeditions began towork their way down the westerncoast, always within sight of land.Upon reaching Cape Bojador, thePortuguese sailors would inevitablyturn back, convinced that this was theend of land and that no ship wouldever pass it. Prince Henry sent out 15expeditions between 1424 and 1434until finally one succeeded by sailing afew miles out to sea and going southfor a few miles.

As a navigation feat, this maneuverwas trivial. The barrier was not aphysical one but a mental one. Manybarriers are of this type. An itembecomes fixed in the mental land-scape, immutable. What lies beyondthe barrier becomes not merely un-known, but unimaginable. Major en-hancements in creativity can beachieved by developing the courage torecognize and overcome mental bar-riers, just as the Portuguese sailorsdid.

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A simple test for creativity involvesgiving test subjects a set of objectsand a goal, to see if they can useordinary objects in unusual ways(e.g., a rock as a hammer). Noncre-ative individuals are often stumped bythese tests. In science, too, objectsbecome fixed in meaning. In manycases, an assumption comes to havethe rock hardness and permanence ofa fact,

My children had been playing withsome yarn for months, calling it spa-ghetti for their toy kitchen. When myfour-year-old daughter started twirl-ing it around to the music, one piecein each hand like the olympic gym-nasts, my five-year-old daughter be-came upset because you do not twirlspaghetti around and dance with it.Therefore, young scientists or thoseventuring in from other fields oftenmake the most revolutionary breakswith tradition: they are able to ask,“1s this really spaghetti ?“

Those whom we note as outstand-ingly creative have often been de-scribed as possessing a childlike inno-cence or sense of wonder, and theyask seemingly naive questions. Thisattitude contributes to creativity bykeeping the mind flexible. Ambiguityand the unknown make many peoplenervous, however. It was not until thelate fifteenth century that Europeanmapmakers would leave sections oftheir maps empty, Before that, theyhad filled the empty spaces of theirmaps with the Garden of Eden, thekingdoms of Gog and Magog, andimaginary peoples and geography(Boorstin 1983). We do not easilysuffer blank spaces on our mentalmaps, either.

A major obstacle in science is notignorance but knowledge. BecauseAristotle was so comprehensive, logi-cal, and brilliant, his writings becamethe ultimate standard of truth. Ga-len’s works provided a similar barrierin anatomy and medicine. incremen-tal improvements to such a subjectare difficult to incorporate into the

mainstream of thought, because peo-ple keep returning to the original.New facts become like little pieces ofclay stuck onto a large statue: theytend to fall off or not show.

Another type of barrier of the mindis the definition by the community ofscientists of what is a serious problemand what is not. Until the late 1970s,physicians regarded turbulence aslargely beyond the terra firma of well-behaved phenomena subject to “real”scientific study. The discovery of themathematics and physics of chaos(chaotic attractors, universality, rela-tions to fractals, and all the rest) isrightly called a revolution (Gleick1987) because it brought within therealm of orderly study an entire classof phenomena previously classified as“void, and without form. ”

In the case of chaos, there was awell-defined phenomenon, turbu-lence, that was deemed intractable. Amore common situation is when atopic is not even recognized as such.When Darwin wrote his book on theorigin of coral reefs (Darwin 1842),other scientists did not even recognizethat there was a problem to be solved.When Darwin found earthworms in-teresting enough to write a bookabout them (Darwin 188 1), the worldof science was quite surprised. Recog-nizing problems that others do noteven see can be considered a primecharacteristic of the truly innovative.

Barriers to recognizing a phenome-non or problem are many, includingconcreteness, visualizability, andcomplexity. Before Riemann, the ge-ometry of Euclid was identified withthe three dimensions and propertiesof our sensory world. The axiomstherefore were too concrete for any-one to conceive of altering them.Breaking this concreteness barrier ledto many forms of non-euclidean ge-ometry.

Visualizability can also be a limit-ing factor, Once Poincar& sections ofthe orbits of strange attractors werepublished, it became evident to every-

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Figure 2. What would have happened if Darwi]and Einstein as young men had needed to applfor government support? Their probability of getting past the grant reviewers would be similar t,

a snowball surviving in Hell

Proposal of c Darwin

This proposal is for rhe P.1. , a geologist bytraining, to solve the problem of speciation.

Method: collect every possible fact and for-

mulate m all–inclusive theory.

Duration: 20 years.

Proposal of A. Einstein

This proposal is for the study of the nature

of apace and time.

Method: Conduct thought experiments inarmchair, supported by abstract mat-

hematics.

Duration: 1 lifetime.

one that there was some kind of reg-ularity to turbulent phenomena. For-mal proofs of this fact were far lessinfluential to the general scientificcommunity because they are muchless accessible (Gleick 1987).

Complexity and heterogeneity arealso major barriers to recognizingproblems. The genius of Newton wasin recognizing that a ball thrown inthe air and a planet circling the sunare “the same” with respect to grav-ity. He made the further crucial ab-straction of treating his objects aspoint masses, reducing the complex-ity to a minimum. These abstractionsand simplifications of Newton are, inreality, simple, but only after the fact.

It is characteristic of mental barri-ers that once overcome they are nevergiven a second thought. The Portu-guese navigators never consideredCape Bojador a serious problem onceit was passed. Of course, many scien-tific achievements really are complex.“The mathematics necessary to graspquantum mechanics is quite difficultand is not just a mental barrier. Nev-ertheless, a scientist must always bealert for barriers that can be circum-vented,

A significant barrier to navigationis the set of structures we have erected

to facilitate our work: namely, aca-demic departments. The current sys-tem seeks to fill all the square holeswith square pegs. The biology depart-ment wants one geneticist, one phys-iologist, and one ecologist, but theydon’t want three generalists whowork in all three areas. In what de-partment would one put Darwin: ge-netics, geology, taxonomy, or ecol-ogy? Darwin considered himself ageologist, but the world rememberslargely his biology. Should Goethe bein the literature, biology, physics, orphilosophy department? He actuallywas most proud of his work on op-tics, though that work was largelyflawed. Would Newton or Fisher findcomfortable academic niches today ?The current rigid departmental sys-tem is confining to the truly creativeperson and discourages the vitally im-portant cross-fertilization of models,data, techniques, and concepts be-tween disciplines.

Don’t be an expert. All graduate stu-dents are taught that it is essential tobecome an expert. As a short-termgoal it is, of course, valid. Academicsearch committees are also lookingfor experts. As a lifestyle, however,becoming an expert can inhibit cre-ativity.

Why is this? After all, it seems thatan expert has more tools at his or herdisposal for solving problems. Theproblem revolves around our mentalconstructs. in learning a subject, wecreate a network of facts, assump-tions, and models. Once we think weunderstand something, it is linked upto an explanation and supportingideas. This construct may not be true,but it comes to seem real nevertheless.As one becomes more of an expert, alarger and more complex network offacts and explanations accumulatesand solidifies, making it difficult toentertain radical alternative ideas orto recognize new problems.

The expert is in danger of develop-ing the small cage habit. Zoo animals,

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when moved to a larger cage, maycontinue to pace about an area thesize and shape of their old smallercage (Biondi 1980). An Aristotle orFreud may create a set of bars withinwhich most people pace rigidly, nevernoticing clues from outside the cage.The danger in becoming an expert isthat one tends to build one’s owncage out of the certainties and factswhich one gradually comes to know.Dogmatism builds cages in which thedogmatic then live and expect every-one else to live also.

How does one not become an ex-pert? Astrophysicist S. Chandrasekhargave a remarkable television interviewa few years ago. He has led a scientificcareer notable for a rate of productiv-ity that has not slowed down at all intohis 70S. When asked how he hasavoided the drop in creativity and pro-ductivity that plagues many scientists,he replied that approximately everyseven years he takes up a new topic.He found that he would run out ofnew ideas after working in an area fortoo long. This pattern led him to tacklesuch topics as the dynamics of stellarsystems, white dwarfs, relativity, andradiative transfer. Although all thesesubjects are in astrophysics, they aredifferent enough to present uniqueproblems,

We need only turn to Darwin tofind a truly remarkable example ofthe value of changing topics. Hewrote books on the origin of coralatolls, the geology of South America,pollination of orchids, ecology ofearthworms, evolution, human emo-tions, the taxonomy of the world’sbarnacles, and movement in plants.When he decided that a topic wasinteresting, he would delve into it indepth for a period of years, write uphis results, and move on. After hisearly books on geology, he only re-turned to the topic a few times duringthe remainder of his career. In today’satmosphere, he would have been en-couraged to follow up on his earlystudv of corals or geology for the rest

of his career. Imagine him in a mod-ern geology department telling his de-partment head that he planned tospend the next 20 years working onevolution, earth worms, and orchids(see Figure 2).

k is easy to protest that learning anew subject is too hard and takes toolong. I am not suggesting that every-one can or should strive for the diver-sity of Charles Darwin. Taking upnew subjects within a discipline orlinking up with related disciplines ap-pears more difficult, however, than infact it is. It is much less difficult thanthe original graduate school experi-ence, because the mature scientist hasan arsenal of tools, terms, and tech-niques that are transferable betweentopics. 1 assert that the value of cross-fertilization far outweighs the cost oflearning new skills and facts. Studieshave shown that a wide spectrum ofinterests is typical of highly creativescientists and helps account for theircreativity (Simonton 1988).

Practical problems beset the bravesoul who eschews the expert label.Getting grants for research in a newarea will be difficult. Departmentheads will frown. Exploring new ter-ritory inevitably evokes the Colum-bus response: shaking of heads andmuttering as you disappear over thehorizon and a hero’s welcome when(if) you return. A strategy some re-searchers employ is to maintain ahome base of expertise in a narrowarea to keep department heads anddeans happy, with frequent excur-sions to diverse topics to stay fresh.

Don’t read the literature. When stu-dents ask how to get started in sci-ence, they are inevitably told to readthe literature. This advice is fine forstudents, because they are used tolooking up the answers in the back ofthe book anyway and repeating theexamples they have seen. For thepracticing scientist this first step isdestructive, however. First, it chan-. -.

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nels your thoughts too much intowell-worn grooves, Second, a germ ofan idea can easily seem insignificantin comparison to finished studies.Third, the sheer volume of material toread may intimidate you into aban-doning any work in a new area.Medawar (1979) also advises againstreading too much, arguing that studycan be a substitute for research.

My recommendation for the firststep (after getting the germ) is to putyour feet up on the desk and stare outthe window. Try to elaborate the ideaas much as possible. Do some calcu-lations or quick lab experiments.Write a few pages. Only after the ideahas incubated and developed will it berobust enough to compare it to exist-ing literature. Given a certain level ofknowledge in a subject, you knowgenerally what is going on, so you arenot likely to be reinventing the wheel.When you go to the literature, youmay find that someone has preemptedyou or that your idea is invalid, but atthe risk of only a few days or weeks ofwork. The cost of good ideas killedoff too soon is much higher than thecost of some wasted effort.

Work habits

Let’s get bored. Boredom or inactivityis a seriously underrated part of beingcreative. I do not, of course, meanthat being creative is boring, or thatboring people are creative, but thatslack time, quiet time, is a valuablepart of the total creative process.Consider an artist. If he walked intothe studio and immediately began todab on paint and did so for eightstraight hours, I would not anticipateseeing anything of real beauty. Nov-elists may go for months or yearscollecting facts, traveling, and search-ing for inspiration. Poets are notori-ous for working only when inspired.

Yet because a scientist’s time isvaluable, we seem to expect an eight-hour day. This day is fine if you aredoing routine science (e.g., screening

100 chemicals in mice for cancer risksusing standard methods), but notgood for science that requires deepthought. To quote James D. Watson(1968), “much of our success was dueto the long uneventful periods whenwe walked the colleges or read thenew books, ” not exactly the factorystyle of doing science. As John Cairnsstated (1988) on reviewing FrancisCrick’s autobiography, “Many read-ers will be struck by the thought thatCrick belongs to a bygone age, whenbiologists were given time to think.What granting agency today wouldgive several years of support to ayoung scientist who just wanted tobuild models? What 30 year oldwould now dare to embark on such aperilous pursuit?”

In comparisons of student problemsolving (Whimbey and Whimbey1975), it was thought that the betterstudents would be found to read adifficult problem faster and solve itfaster. in fact, the good students tookmuch longer to read the problem,because they were thinking about it,but then took less time to answer thequestions or do the math. The poorstudents often were jumping aheadand solving the wrong problem. Onsimple problems, there was little dif-ference in performance.

This habit of jumping ahead leadstoo often in science also to solving thewrong problem. The pace of aca-demic life and research has become sofrenetic that activity and motion havecome to replace thought. The need forcareful thought and planning is par-ticularly acute for studies on complexsystems where laboratory techniquedoes not dominate, such as epidemi-ology, ecology, and psychology.There is a simple test for freneticism;merely ask someone, “Why are youcollecting this data ?“ If they are toobusy to answer or cannot explain it,the ratio of thought to activity is toolow.

There are some research techniques.that have fallen out of favor in recent

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decades as being inefficient but whichshould be reintroduced. One of theseis the highly sophisticated pipe-smoking technique. This instrumenthas its utility in the almost incessantand highly ritualized care it demands,which keeps the hands busy while themind contemplates some problem,while at the same time leading a pass-erby into believing that the smoker isactually doing something (for detailedinstructions, see McManus 1979). Incontrast, an unfocused gaze withhands behind the head is immediatelyinterpreted as goofing off. Of course, Ido not recommend smoking, butsome substitute for the pipe is sorelyneeded.

An equally effective technique,good for deeper contemplation, is thewalk. This technique is looked downon today as being too low-tech. Be-sides, someone walking is obviouslynot working. Darwin used to take anhour walk every day around a coursehe had laid out (Figure 3). He wouldbecome engrossed in his thoughts;therefore he put some small stones atthe start, kicking one off at eachround so that he did not have to keeptrack of how many circuits he hadmade or worry about time. It wasduring these walks that he wrestledwith the deepest questions.

The practice of taking long walksas an active part of intellectual activ-ity used to be a common part ofacademic life in Europe. Professorswould take their graduate students onwalks to debate, discuss, and ques-tion. These days graduate studentsare lucky to even see their professor inthe halls. Our idea of a walk is goingto the copy machine. Some psycholo-gists have found that taking patientsfor a walk is very effective in gettingthem to open up and express them-selves. With our short attention spansthese days, it would no doubt requirepractice to be able to come to conclu-sions or formulate complex thoughtswhile walking and remember them

Figure 3. Charles Darwin engaged in thearcane and almost lost art that today w-would label thinking. Illustration by Rich-ard Loehle.

back in the office, but it can be doneand would be beneficial.

If you can’t walk, try running. I havebeen a recreational jogger for 1Syears. 1 sometimes find that a pain inmy ankle that I feel when waiicing orjogging will go away if I switch to asprint. This cure suggests a strategy toovercome writer’s block, which af-flicts many scientists. The scenario ioften observe is that someone finishesan experiment ‘or field study and thensits down to “write up the resuits. ” Itreminds me of the Peanuts comic stripin which Snoopy is trying to write agreat novel and keeps getting stuck on“It was a dark and stormy night. ”

Starting at the first word to writeup the entire study is rather intimidat-ing. The walking writer, like Snoopy,

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is noticing the pain in his ankle atNery sentence and is likely to stopand massage each sore spot, thus re-peatedly getting stuck. Such jerky mo-tion is also anathema to creativethought. Sprinting can sometimescure both problems. Sit down with acup of coffee (optional) and define ashort piece to be written in a definedinterval, say the methods section inone hour. Then sprint without worry-ing about grammar or style, whichcan be corrected later. Leave blankswhere the references should go. Oftenthis plan will get one off the mark andwriting may continue for severalhours. If it turns out not to be a goodday, the sprinting technique at leastallows for an hour or two of solidwork. The utility of this approachdepends on the style of the researcherand is most useful for hyperactiveindividuals who do not like to sit stilland for perfectionists like Snoopywho get stuck on the first sentence.

Be unrealistic. It is a fatal mistake tohave a realistic estimation of yourmental capacities. Someone who isrealistic will never attempt problemsthat seem hard, because few of us areNewtons. On the other hand, creativ-ity is only marginally related to IQ.That is, above a certain point such as120 or so, IQ is not predictive ofeither productivity or innovation~ (Si-monton 1988).

As we look back on great scientificdiscoveries, many of them seem child-ishly simple to us. The great innova-tion of Galileo was to avoid trying toexplain why objects fall (as Aristotlehad) in favor of quantifying how theyfall. When Newton treated objects aspoint masses it was brilliant, but inretrospect it is a simple concept, Thegreat innovation of Vesalius was todo dissections himself and base hisanatomy book on what he actuallysaw rather than on the authority ofGalen (Boorstin 1983). His further

‘See footnote 1.

innovation was to use medical dia-grams in his book. All of these are -elementary ideas.

Some may despair that all the easyideas have been found, but this assess-ment is far from true. In the last twodecades, fractals and chaos have trans-formed the foundations of science, yetthe basic concepts and even some ofthe formal math are intuitively obvi-ous and simple once learned. Often thesolution we seek will turn out to besimple and well within the reach ofour intelligence. It is puzzling whyscientific discovery is so hard when thefinal result can often be demonstratedto an eighth grade class.

Inverse procrastination. The first pri-ority of the innovator is procrastina-tion. Only by putting off routineduties and avoiding committee as-signments can one find time to day-dream and browse in the literature. Ido not believe it is fair to call thisprocrastination and avoidance irre-sponsible behavior. Rather, it has todo with lead times being more impor-tant than deadlines. The gestationtime for ideas, methods, and modelsis often quite long. The Eureka! phe-nomenon is usually the tail end of along process of puzzling over a prob-lem, reading about it, and discussingit with colleagues.

For example, ever since my teens Ihave been fascinated with the abilityof some trees to live for thousands ofyears. I read accounts of tree Iifespansand counted rings on stumps withoutany goal in mind for many years, Buteventually this information led me toa new approach to the problem of theenergetic costs of achieving great age(Loehle 1988).

I believe that most creative scien-tists have a long list, or zoo, if youwill, of perhaps only partially articu-lated questions and puzzles that theymull over and that guide them. Theneed to feed the inmates of this zoo at

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regular intervals is strong, becausethese ideas will blossom into the nextset of research problems. This driveleads to what 1call “The First Law ofInverse Procrastination”: always putoff some of what you should be doingtoday so you can do something thatmight be relevant later.

Surfing. If I say that creative work islike surfing, you will think I am fromCalifornia. By this analogy, however,1 mean that good ideas come sporad-ically and unpredictably and shouldbe pursued as they pass by, just as thesurfer pursues the wave. Some wavesare small, some large. Some days thesurf is up, and some days it is not. Forthe really big waves, it can take realeffort to stay on the crest. The littlewaves can be caught by jotting downnotes wherever you are. When thesurf is up, it is crucial to recognize it,and, like the California hot-dogger,cut classes if necessary to hang ten. Atsuch times, one should shut the doorand disconnect the phone. In such acreative wave, sometimes entire firstdrafts of papers can be ridden in acontinuous burst of writing. Suchwork is often of the highest qualityeven though hurriedly done.

Does such an approach mean oneshould be a prima donna, only work-ing when the mood strikes? Certainlynot. On days that are not good forsurfing, there are articles to read,manuscripts to revise, equipment toorder, papers to review, phone calls,meetings, and so on and on. Thepoint is not to be moody but to bereceptive to the creative muse (to bemusey, if you will). Designating atime of day for research or followingtoo rigid a pattern of work is detri-mental to creative thought.

Surfing applies to topics poppinguP, as well as to being inspired ingeneral. To cite B. F. Skinner (1959),“a first principle not formally recog-nized by scientific methodologists:when you run onto something inter-

esting, drop everything else and studyit. ”

This principle points out two fun-damental problems with the currentpeer review grant-giving process.First, reviewers may not concur withyour assessment of what is interest-ing. Second, the current review sys-tem requires one to lay out, in somedetail, the steps and procedures one isgoing to follow through several yearsand what the expected outcome isgoing to be. Except for observationalor very expensive studies, this de-mand is completely unrealistic, be-cause research is a contingent process.It also precludes following up inter-esting leads. Examining Faraday’snotebooks, one sees that he did sev-eral experiments per day in an itera-tive, tinkering type of research. Howcould he have planned this research inadvance or presented it to a reviewpanel ?

To ensure survival, many research-ers practice a form of deception bysqueezing interesting projects be-tween the cracks of other grants. Myargument is that funding, except forvery large studies, should be in largeramounts over longer periods than it istoday, and funding should be directedmore toward broad lines of inquiryrather than the current narrow focus.

Today’s highly competitive climatehas led to the misconception that thequality of proposed work and its out-come is predictable from a detaiiedgrant proposal. Few if any really sur-prising discoveries get explicitlyfunded this way. As Koestler (1964)noted, “The history of discovery isfull of arrivals at unexpected destina-tions, and arrivals at the right desti-nation by the wrong boat. ” A muchbetter practice is to fund investiga-tors, as does the Howard HughesMedical Foundation, for three- tofive-year periods based on the individ-ual’s track record rather than to finda detailed proposal. This practicefrees up the truly productive from thehuge overhead of chasing grants (as

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much as sOO/o of one’s time) and frommaking overly rigid research plans.One cannot predict or control whatthe creative person will do, but he orshe can be encouraged by adequatesupport.

Conclusions

The path of creativity is strewn withthe bones of those consumed by thevultures of mediocrity, accountabil-ity, and responsibility. One cannotschedule creative breakthroughs,budget for them, or prove them inadvance to a review panel. An entirelydifferent, flexible approach to scienceis necessary to encourage creativity.The concept that time is too valuablefor staring out the window or readingfor pleasure is equivalent to doing labwork while standing on one’s head.Free and undirected thought and re-search are essential. Scientists of theworld, throw off your chains! Youhave nothing to lose but your “nor-mal science” !

Acknowledgments

This work was carried out under con-tract DE-AC09-76SROO01 with theUS Department of Energy.

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Craig Loehle is a research ecologist in theEnuironntental Sciences Section, Savan-nah River Laboratory, Westinghouse Sa-vannah River Co., Aiken, SC 29808-0001. 0 1990 American Institute ofBiological Sciences. The US governmentretains a nonexclusive, royalty-free licenseto publish or reproduce this article.