The Geography of Scientific Collaboration

Agnieszka Olechnicka, Adam Ploszaj, Dorota Celińska-Janowicz

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781315471914
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Negocios y empresa
• Subtopic: Negocios en general

Science is increasingly defined by multidimensional collaborative networks. Despite the unprecedented growth of scientific collaboration around the globe – the collaborative turn – geography still matters for the cognitive enterprise. This book explores how geography conditions scientific collaboration and how collaboration affects the spatiality of science.

This book offers a complex analysis of the spatial aspects of scientific collaboration, addressing the topic at a number of levels: individual, organizational, urban, regional, national, and international. Spatial patterns of scientific collaboration are analysed along with their determinants and consequences. By combining a vast array of approaches, concepts, and methodologies, the volume offers a comprehensive theoretical framework for the geography of scientific collaboration. The examples of scientific collaboration policy discussed in the book are taken from the European Union, the United States, and China. Through a number of case studies the authors analyse the background, development and evaluation of these policies.

This book will be of interest to researchers in diverse disciplines such as regional studies, scientometrics, R&D policy, socio-economic geography and network analysis. It will also be of interest to policymakers, and to managers of research organisations.

The Open Access version of this book, available at http://www.taylorfrancis.com, has been made available under a Creative Commons Attribution-Non Commercial-No Derivatives 4.0 license.

1 Places and spaces of science

DOI: 10.4324/9781315471938-2

Science, like every human activity, literally takes place. It goes without saying that space matters for scientific enterprise. Yet “There is something strange about science”, as David N. Livingstone notes in Putting Science in its Place, his fundamental work on geographies of scientific knowledge. He points out that scientific inquiry always takes place somewhere, often in highly specific sites, and at the same time knowledge produced in these places has universal value and ubiquitous qualities.¹ Thus “Scientific findings […] are both local and global; they are both particular and universal; they are both provincial and transcendental” (2003, p. xi). We suggest that this paradoxical conundrum can be solved by distinguishing—even if somewhat artificially—places and spaces of science. The former relate to particular locations and geographical territories, the latter to the abstract, intangible realm of knowledge. This distinction is analysed in the first part of the chapter. We then discuss selected types of science places and their relation to the development of modern science. Afterwards, we present the global variations of scientific activities. The closing part of the chapter addresses the mechanisms and driving forces underlying the geography of science.

1.1 Science takes place

Let us consider two types of scientific journey: one through physical places and the other in the realm of immaterial spaces. For centuries, people have travelled to remote places to discover new knowledge. The theory of evolution would not be what it is without Charles Darwin’s (1809–1882) five-year round-the-world expedition, which he elaborately described in his acclaimed The Voyage of the Beagle (1839). Another scientific giant, Alexander von Humboldt (1769–1859), also reaped exceptional gains from long travels. His five-year Latin American trip enabled him to bring into being modern physical geography, plant geography, and meteorology (Wulf, 2015). The 20th century saw humanity reaching the Moon and sending probes further into the solar system. Now, at the beginning of the 21st century, the physical movement of scholars is also vital, though more in the form of professional mobility and brain circulation than adventurous exploration (Naylor & Ryan, 2010). However, more and more research endeavour goes on in the endless space of information that humanity has generated and is generating every single second. These expeditions into the digital wilderness—the Big Data Jungle—may seem less exciting. Nonetheless, they can certainly prove incredibly revealing. Scientific voyages into intangible spaces occurred long before those in virtual realms and, in fact, form the bedrock of science. For the sake of brevity we need only mention Plato’s (5th and 4th century BC) investigations into the world of ideas (universal truths) and Karl Popper’s (1902–1994) theory of three worlds, where the third world contains “objective knowledge” created by people (Jarvie, Milford, & Miller, 2006).

Places produce frames within which scientific endeavour takes place. Various sites constitute core science infrastructure: laboratories, observatories, libraries, archives, university campuses, botanical gardens, agricultural experiment stations, research hospitals, corporate research parks, field sites, and remote research stations, to name only the most obvious. Moreover, particular localities tend to foster intellectual and creative work. Oxford and Cambridge in the UK, Cambridge in Massachusetts, Silicon Valley in California, and Sophia Antipolis in France are immediately associated with science and technology. Larger territorial entities, such as regions or countries, can also be recognised as science places since their state of scientific advancement varies significantly and can be attributed to their individual history, geography, culture, society, politics, and economy.

On the other hand, science spaces reflect the relations between terms, notions, ideas, theories, paradigms, scientific disciplines, and fields. This space of relationships is fundamental for science, which can be understood as an inquiry into how and why phenomena interrelate. Moreover, knowledge as such can be seen as the meaningful organisation of information. Without entering the philosophical debate looming over the two previous statements,² let us direct our voyage into spaces of science towards a down-to-earth object: a library catalogue drawer. Library classifications stand as a spectacular example of how relationships in the scientific space can be made visible. When, in 1876, Melvil Dewey (1851–1931) proposed his hierarchical Dewey Decimal Classification (DDC), he brought about a major advance in knowledge management. The DDC helped to shelve books thematically instead of putting them in the order of acquisition, which had been the common practice for centuries. More importantly, it also made it possible to implement an easy-to-navigate, thematic library catalogue—a tool that significantly improved information access and administration.³

Much in the same way, classifications, catalogues, ontologies, and other attempts to organise the growing amount of data and information captured meaningful relations in the scientific space and influenced progress in scientific knowledge (Wright, 2007). Linnaean taxonomy, developed in 1735 by Swedish scholar Carl Linnaeus (1707–1778), facilitated biological research, making communication between naturalists easier. The periodic table of chemical elements, published in 1869 by Russian chemist Dmitrij Mendeleev (1834–1907), represented a magnificent milestone, as it foresaw the existence of elements that had not yet been discovered. Different attempts to capture science spaces are embodied in “science maps”: usually non-geospatial visualisations, also called infographics or information visualisations. During the 20th century, science maps slowly became more and more popular. At the beginning of the 21st century, largely because of easy access to computing power and the appropriate software, science maps proliferated and permeated a broad spectrum of applications, from mapping scholarly genealogies, co-authorships, citations, and co-citations, through analysing relations between scientific fields, concepts, and paradigms, to showing under-researched topics or forecasting new research fronts (Börner, 2010, 2015).

The concept of science spaces also relates to communities of scholars. Be it the 17th-century Invisible College—a precursor to the Royal Society of London. Be it the famous Republic of Letters in the Age of Enlightenment—an international community based on the circulation of handwritten letters, but also printed materials. Be it the New Invisible College—global science networks facilitated by the development of information technology (Wagner, 2008). This type of science space brings us back to the question of the relations between spaces and places of science. Scientific communities are simultaneously spatial and non-spatial. They can be purely virtual, but the individuals involved in them occupy real places somewhere in the world. Therefore, it is possible to produce a spatial map of the Republic of Letters (Chang et al., 2009) or online scholarly communities. To shed some more light on the relations between places and spaces of science, we can recall an antebellum drawing by Paul Otlet (1868–1944)—the Belgian visionary and great-grandfather of the internet (Day, 2001; Wright, 2014). His imaginary vision of relationships between the world and scientific knowledge corresponds to our space-place distinction (see Figure 1.1). From this perspective, scholars, their tools, and infrastructures occupy distinct, physical places. Simultaneously, they operate in the space of interrelated ideas.

Figure 1.1 Interweaving relationships between places and spaces of science

Source: Drawing on the left from Otlet, 1934, p. 41; schema on the right—conception and design by Adam Ploszaj.

Certainly, places and spaces of science are inextricably connected. At the same time, they differ considerably. Places are defined, particular, and physical. Spaces are abstract, ubiquitous, and nonmaterial. But, beyond a shadow of a doubt, both spaces and places are vital for the emergence and sustenance of science, its diffusion, and our understanding of these processes. While acknowledging the importance of science spaces, we will now put them aside and focus in this chapter—and the whole book—on places of science.

1.2 From little science spots to the global geography of science

The Cambridge History of Science, vol. 3: Early Modern Science dedicates more than 130 pages to analysing the role of markets, piazzas, villages, homes, households, libraries, classrooms, courts, cabinets, workshops, academies, anatomy theatres, botanical gardens, natural history collections, laboratories, sites of military science and technology, coffeehouses, and printshops. In the period from 1490 to 1730, the diversity of science places was already striking. Today, this landscape can only be more complex. While it is always risky to paint with a broad brush, we would argue that for the sake of placing scientific collaboration, we are justified in focusing only on selected science places, namely the laboratory, library and other humanities-related sites, and the university campus. This close-up view of science in places is then complemented by a panoramic view from a distance: the global geography of science.

1.2.1 The laboratory

The laboratory is unquestionably the most iconic place of contemporary science. First, modern science would not have become what it is today without laboratories. As Louis Pasteur (1822–1895), French chemist, microbiologist, and vaccination pioneer, allegedly put it, “Without laboratories men of science are soldiers without arms”. Second, the image of a laboratory sticks firmly in the collective imagination and popular culture.

The term laboratory encompasses a very diverse set of sites. Medical laboratories usually do not resemble metallurgical or industrial applied research labs. Wet laboratories used by chemists and biologists necessarily differ from computer labs, where “wet” is not the most welcome condition. Furthermore, we use the term for both high-security, restricted-access facilities (e.g., those dealing with biohazards or radioactivity), as well as much more open sites. Some laboratories take the form of colossal structures, like cyclotrons or radiotelescopes; others fit into a small office space. All these different places are perceived as similar, not based on their appearance, but on the function they serve. Archetypally, the laboratory is a place where scientists carry out their observations and experiments. However, from time to time, the term is also used in relation to units that have little to do with observations, experiments, or specialised apparatuses, but which rather resemble typical offices, where people work on their computers, read, write, meet, and discuss. Consequently, the broader definition of laboratory simply describes a place where scholarly work is done.

The laboratory is not merely a container for scientific work. It has institutional power that plays an essential role in the social construction of scientific knowledge (Latour & Woolgar, 1986). The idea that scientific facts are not discovered, but rather invented or constructed in a laboratory, might be difficult to come to terms with. Indeed, the Latourian approach has been heavily criticised as deeply relativistic (Boghossian, 2006). However, this line of thought convincingly shows how the image of a laboratory is used to build the credibility of knowledge produced by scientists. David N. Livingstone’s analysis of the basement laboratory of the first modern chemist, Robert Boyle (1627–1691), finishes with the remark that:

In order to achieve the status of “knowledge,” claims had to be produced in the right place and had to be validated by the right public. Where science was conducted—in what physical and social space—was thus a crucial ingredient in establishing whether an assertion was warranted

(2003, p. 23).

The symbolic authority of the laboratory has also been used to legitimate incipient sciences, e.g., psychology at the turn of the 19th into the 20th century. As James Capshew observed, “In the early years of the discipline, the laboratory was invested with an almost talismanic power and viewed as a sacred space where scientific knowledge was created” (1992, p 132). This facet of places of science—i.e., establishing the credibility of scientific claims—is captured by the term “truth-spot”, coined by Thomas Gieryn (2018). Interestingly, it is not only a laboratory that can constitute a truth-spot, but also field sites or experimental farms (Gieryn, 2002). However, the laboratory remains the key truth-spot for modern science.

The naissance and transformations of the laboratory closely relate to the development of modern science. The notion of the laboratory is rooted in the tradition of alchemy (Hannaway, 1986). This protoscientific grandmother of chemistry consisted of somewhat obscure attempts to find the philosopher’s stone, transform readily available substances into gold, or produce an elixir of immortality. The alchemist’s workshop can be imagined through Terry Pratchett’s (1948–2015) literary lens as a “room, heavily outfitted with the usual badly ventilated furnaces, rows of bubbling crucibles, and one stuffed alligator. Things floated in jars. The air smelled of a limited life expectancy” (1993, p. 122). Early modern laboratories resembled artisan workshops, and a furnace for (proto)chemical operations constituted its essential equipment (Shapin, 1988). During the 17th century, along with the formation of modern science, the laboratory steadily evolved into “one of the hallmarks of the new science – the site where theories and hypotheses were purportedly tested by experiment and from which new discoveries and useful knowledge emerged” (Smith, 2006, p. 293). The rise of the modern laboratory goes hand in hand with the naissance of modern science.

The second turning point was reached in the middle of the 20th century w...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Table of Contents
• List of illustrations
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• 1. Places and spaces of science
• 2. Scientists working together
• 3. Measuring scholarly collaboration in space
• 4. Spatial patterns of scientific collaboration
• 5. Theoretical approaches to scientific collaboration from a spatial perspective
• 6. Scientific collaboration policy
• 7. Conclusions
• References
• Index