Stop Thinking About Science (Start Doing It)

The Hidden Cost of Overthinking in Scientific Practice

Science, viewed through fresh eyes, appears as a purely cerebral pursuit. But science, at its heart, is an art of doing – and like any art, if left in the mind it withers, forever unrealized. Just as painters must paint and sculptors must sculpt, scientists must do. The doing - messy, immediate, real - is where discovery lives.

Young scientists are especially susceptible to overthinking. They arrive at the bench armed with theories and expectations, having labored to pursue a profession of thought. In academia, science lives only in the mind. You learn about the practice by talking about the ideas – it's a thinking person's game, and the more you think, the better you do.

Thinking, of course, is very sexy. And complex experiments are sophisticated. But like all things sexy and sophisticated, so too are they dangerous. The allure of complexity seduces us into believing that if we lengthen our time in thought, if we broaden our scope, if we deepen our variables, our actions will inevitably emerge more balanced, more successful, more wise. Yet each thought removed from observation adds another layer of abstraction. A thought about an observation; then a thought about that thought; then thoughts about those thoughts - each level spiraling further from reality into self-reference. In this maze of mirrors, we mistake the reflection of our assumptions for reasoning itself.

Consider the young scientist at his desk. "What do I know of this?" he wonders, and begins to build his case. First, he recalls what he believes to be an observation - though more often it is merely an interpretation he once read, now misremembered as fact. He takes this recollection and thinks upon it, synthesizing it into his current understanding. Then he thinks upon that synthesis, adding layers of interpretation to interpretation. Every step made in his mind builds on the last, taking him further from any genuine observation. Within the span of an hour, he has begun to think about thoughts about thoughts about someone else's interpretation of reality.

The tragedy of scientific education is that it often teaches us nature's answers before we have learned to ask her questions. We inherit a conversation midstream - equations, theories, laws - all responses to questions asked by others long ago. The young scientist arrives thinking he knows nature's voice, when he has only heard echoes of echoes. Only at the bench, through failed experiments and unexpected results, does he learn that nature's true voice speaks only in the present tense, only to questions asked directly, only to those patient enough to observe.

Through this humbling process, the young scientist learns what his education could not teach: that science is not about mastering nature's language, but about learning to converse with her. Each experiment is a question asked clearly; each result a response that must be heard completely. Through soil and solution, through cell and circuit, through every medium of investigation, nature teaches him to listen - not for what he expects to hear, but for what she is actually saying.

The most effective scientists share a common trait: they maintain a bias toward action. They think deeply, yes, but they don't let thinking become a substitute for doing. They understand that each experiment, regardless of outcome, is a step forward – either confirming what we think we know or revealing what we don't. Nature speaks not to those who would render her in perfect theorems, but to those who dare to ask her simple, direct questions - and listen, truly listen, to her replies.

"It has been said that the experimenter must force nature to unveil herself. Yes, the experimenter doubtless forces nature to unveil herself by attacking her with all manner of questions; he must never answer for her nor listen partially to her answers by taking, from the results of an experiment, only those which support or confirm his hypothesis.”

Claude Bernard

(French physiologist and pioneer of experimental medicine, 1813-1878)