10 2307@20115620

What Is a Problem That We May Solve It?
Author(s): Thomas Nickles

Source: Synthese, Vol. 47, No. 1, Scientific Method as a Problem-Solving and Question-
Answering Technique (Apr., 1981), pp. 85-118
Published by: Springer
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20115620
Accessed: 28-08-2016 01:30 UTC
JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted
digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about
JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org.
Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at
http://about.jstor.org/terms
Springer is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Synthese
This content downloaded from 130.113.111.210 on Sun, 28 Aug 2016 01:30:06 UTC
All use subject to http://about.jstor.org/terms
THOMAS NICKLES
WHAT IS A PROBLEM THAT WE

MAY SOLVE IT?1
The analysis of problems and of problem-solving behavior con

stitutes, in my judgment, the most promising approach to the general
methodology of science today. Such analysis can also illuminate
foundational studies in the various special theories of science. Yet
despite a notable increase in attention to problems and questions as
units of and for philosophical analysis, and despite the emergence of
problem-solving models of scientific inquiry (in Kuhn, Popper's later
writings, and especially Laudan2), we are still far from possessing an
adequate account of problems. We have only begun to ask what a
problem is and what an 'account' of problems should do.
I claim that any adequate 'theory' of problems must satisfy the
extended list of logical and historical conditions of adequacy which I
set out below. To satisfy these constraints, an account of problems
must, to some extent, explain the possibility of the research activities
and capabilities listed, and must certainly not exclude them. Although
most of these constraining conditions are truistic claims about science
and about problems, my own still developing conception of problems is
the only one I know which comes close to satisfying them. (This
conception is similar to that employed by the cognitive psychologist,
Walter Reitman, and the polymath, Herbert Simon, however.) While
my topic is scientific problems, I believe that much of what I say
extends to problems in general.
After setting out my list of conditions, I shall continue my critical
examination (begun in Nickles, 1980e) of problem accounts now in
the literature. Then I shall trace major deficiencies of the best
problem solving model of science now available (Laudan's) to
insufficient attention to what problems themselves are. I conclude by
presenting my own account and by indicating its place in a richer
theory of inquiry than we have yet developed.
Synthese 47 (1981) 85-118. 0039-7857/81/0471-0085 $03.40.

Copyright ? 1981 by D. Reidel Publishing Co., Dordrecht, Holland, and Boston, U.S.A
86 THOMAS NICKLES
I. REQUIREMENTS OF AN ACCOUNT OF PROBLEMS
A. Logical and Conceptual Requirements

1. Problems exist and some are known. (How is that possible?)
2. Problems are sometimes solved, i.e., their solutions are dis
covered. Thus inquiry is possible. (How is inquiry possible?)
3. Problems are identical only if their solutions (or their classes of
admissible solutions) are identical. (Caution: This claim does not
deny that a problem may have alternative, incompatible solutions. It
asserts that P and Q are the same problem only if the class of
admissible solutions for each is the class of admissible solutions for
the other.)
4. Theories (problem solutions) are identical only if the problems
they solve are identical.
5. Two distinct problems may be solved by the same theory and in
that sense may have the same solution and, a fortiori, the same range
of admissible solutions (else one theory could solve only a single
problem).
6. A problem may be solved by two or more distinct theories (else
there could be no competitive solutions to the same problem).
7. Problems exist only in relation to goals which have not been
achieved.
8. Problems have objective existence within historical bodies of
theory, practice, and goals. Some problems are discovered, some
remain unknown or only partially known. The discovery process may
be gradual.
9. Two scientists can have the same problem without knowing the
same things about it and can approach the problem from different
directions, even from different fields.
10. Theories are (putative) problem solutions, but not all problem
solutions are theories.
11. Some problems are subproblems of larger problems.
B. Evidence that Problems Have Conceptual Depth (see also C)

1. Problems can be very puzzling. E.g., we cannot see how a
phenomenon is possible, given what we know; or two powerful and
intuitively obvious theories or principles clash.
WHAT IS A PROBLEM THAT WE MAY SOLVE IT? 87
2. Many scientific problems are ill structured, and for substantive

(vs. purely formal, methodological) reasons. E.g., there exists no
algorithm for determining whether something is a solution. (Reitman
1964; Simon, 1973.)
3. Despite 2, scientists make reliable judgments about when
problem has been solved. There frequently is near unanimity of
agreement. (Kuhn, 1962.) (How is this possible?)
4. Scientists can sometimes make reliable judgments about the
solvability or unsolvability of still unsolved problems, including so
vability in terms of a given body of theory and the amount of time
and effort required to obtain a solution-and thus to evaluate the
likely success of alternative research proposals and programs.3
5. Scientists make reliable judgments (and agree) about the cog
nitive weighting of problems (their intellectual fruitfulness, im
portance, generality, and centrality). Scientists know that some prob
lems are more interesting than others. (Kuhn, 1962; Laudan, 1977, p.
32.) (How is all this possible?)
6. There exist overdetermined problems, i.e., problems whose
constraints/goal-demands cannot all be satisfied (inconsistent co
straint sets); but not all problems are overdetermined. (Lugg
1978.)
7. The discovery process typically is structured in time rather than
being a momentary psychological experience of the solution popping
into someone's head. (Kuhn, 1977, Ch. 7.)
8. Complex reasoning typically occurs in problem-solving contexts.
(How is such reasoning possible?)
9. This reasoning falls into many different patterns and is not all
inductive. Enumerative induction from the data to a solution is rare.
(How is noninductive reasoning to problem solutions possible?)
10. Problems and problem solutions (e.g., theories) in modern
science frequently are highly esoteric (Kuhn, 1962; 1977, p. 236) or
positively weird (Shapere, 1980).
11. There is an 'essential tension' between tradition and innovation
in science, which is rooted in the problem-solving process (Kuhn,
1959).
12. Historically, tradition-bound research in science has been more
rapidly and continuously innovative and progressive than problem
solving behaviors not linked to a definite tradition or research pro
gram. (Lakatos, 1970; Kuhn, 1977, p. 234; Laudan, 1977).
88 THOMAS NICKLES
C. Evidence that Conceptual Constraints Belong to the Problem Itself

and Cannot Be Removed to the Background
1. Some problems are deeper than others.

2. There are many and diverse types of intellectual problems
besides explanation-prediction problems, e.g., determination prob
lems, clarification problems, problems of inconsistency and in
coherence (either internally or with other principles, theories, or
world views),4 and others in natural science alone, not to mention
problems of pure mathematics, philosophy, etc. Some of these prob
lem types do not involve empirical data, at least not as an important
component. Many problems can be understood apart from the data,
and one may be familiar with all the relevant data without seeing the
problem.
3. Data sometimes do not constitute the problem (or the primary
problem) but serve chiefly as evidence that a problem (or at least a
deeper problem) exists. (E.g., the null experiments and relativity.)
4. Some conceptual problems are intrinsically important and are
not merely difficulties in the way of solving empirical problems.
5. Some problems remain unsolved, and some of those are unsol
vable, even though the relevant data, if any, have been explained or
are explainable.5
6. Problems can be reformulated in significantly (conceptually)
different ways, formulated more or less completely, transformed, and
reduced to other problems-all without essential change in the
presentation of the empirical data to be explained.6
7. Problems can be modeled on other problems, even when the
data or subject matter is dissimilar. The modeling is more substantial
than the data alone would permit.7
8. Recognizing and adequately formulating a scientific problem
can be very challenging tasks. [Bantz, 1980]
9. The more constraints on the problem solution we know, and the
more sharply they are formulated, the more sharply and completely
we can formulate the problem, and the better we understand it.
10. Formulating a good problem can be an important theoretical
scientific achievement, frequently different from the discovery or
production of data for explanation.
A-l and the 'How possibly?' question it raises may not seem at all
puzzling. To bring out the puzzlement, I point out that erotetic

logicians such as Belnap and Steel (1976) define a question as the s
of admissible answers plus a request for an answer satisfying certain
conditions of number, distinctness, and completeness. This is puzz
ing because identifying a question with the set of its possible answer
and (analogously) a problem with its set of admissible solutions
appears to generate the following dilemma: Either the possible sol
tions to a problem are known or they are not. If they are, you do no
really have a problem at all, for you have the solution(s). And if they
are not known, again, you do not have a problem - for how could you
know what it is? In Section V, I argue that there is something - but
not everything - right about this apparently backwards and paradoxi
cal way of defining problems. Despite the appearance of paradox,
think it offers the only way to answer the Meno paradox. Th
dilemma is in fact a variant form of the paradox found in Plato's
Meno 80d-e: Either you know what you are searching for or you d
not. If you do know, you already have it, whence inquiry is pointless
And if you do not know, you would not recognize it even if you
stumbled on it accidentally; hence, again, inquiry is impossible,
pointless. The way out of the paradox is to show that the secon
statement is false. You can know what you are looking for withou
already having it; you can know it without knowing it completely.
This most basic problem of inquiry, 'How is inquiry possible?'
(A-2), has a strong and a weak form. Solving the weak form for
particular domain of problems requires only that we specify co
ditions on what would terminate inquiry (in intellectually admissible
ways), on what would count as obtaining the goal of inquiry. Th
strong form of the problem of inquiry demands, in addition, guidance
as to how to search for the goal state, not simply how to recognize it
if you happen to stumble upon it. Here we may further distinguis
degrees of strength, from the provision of algorithms down to th
supplying of helpful hints and heuristic remarks. One can address th
strong problem of inquiry without presupposing the existence of an
algorithmic discovery procedure or even a general methodology of a
weaker sort. So far as scientific inquiry is concerned, an increasin
number of 'friends of discovery' (to use Gary Gutting's term) reject
the classical positivist and Popperian position that philosophy mus
confine itself to the weak problem of inquiry, that the strong form i
of merely psychological and historical interest. Indeed, I (as one o
90 THOMAS NICKLES
the more radical 'friends') would turn the old discovery/justificati

distinction on its head. The main job of general methodology, on t
radical view, is not to provide a foundational theory of justificatio
scientific knowledge, rationality, and objectivity. Rath
methodology is concerned with 'heuristics' (in a suitably broad sens
To state the point boldly and without qualification: the only legitim
sort of 'theory of justification' collapses into heuristics, or at l
into 'theory of inquiry' for science as an ongoing process. To put t
point in the terms of Laudan (1977), acceptance collapses into pursu
I shall return to this conception of methodology.
I do not have space here to defend my other constraints or 'data'
problems. Many of them are platitudes about problems and ab
scientific research and therefore need little defense. Despite th
platitudinous nature, it is difficult to produce an account of proble
which satisfies (or explains) them all.
II. EMPIRICIST MODELS OF PROBLEMS
In my (1980e), I tested three empiricist models of scientific problems

against the above constraints and found them wanting. I briefly
summarize those results here. On the minimal empiricist model, a
problem is an empirical (observational) fact in search of explanation
or prediction - or a process in search of a method of humanly con
trolling it (depending on the variety of empiricism in question).
Charity forbids ascribing this extremum position to any major writer,
for this minimal model satisfies hardly any of our constraints. If
problem were only a datum plus the demand that it be explained
(predicted, controlled) and no restrictions at all were placed on what
counts as explanation, prediction, or control, then we hardly could
have a definite problem, much less a definite conception of problems.
The minimal model does not solve even the weak problem of inquiry.
The positivist model solves the weak problem of inquiry by adding
to the minimal model a methodological component stating what
counts as an explanation, prediction, law, confirmation, etc. For
example, one version of the positivist model holds a problem to be
datum in search of Hempelian explanation (deductive-nomological,
inductive-statistical, or deductive-statistical; see Hempel, 1965). Al
though this model tells us what would count as a problem solution,
and hence what counts as a genuine problem, the positivist mode
does not even address the strong problem of inquiry-or rather,
positivists have denied that it can be fruitfully addressed. It is

known that two generations of logical positivist writers explic
denied that reasoning of a philosophically interesting sort takes p
in context of discovery-a claim now known to be false. In th
view, oddly enough, inquiry begins, not from problems but f
theories-i.e., problem solutions - and consists only in the
ting/justification of said theories! Examination of our list of
straints reveals many more difficulties for the positivist mod
satisfies none of the conditions in category C, and it fails to h
many items in A and B. For example, it recognizes just a few type
scientific problems (empirical explanation-prediction problem
derivative problems of theoretical inconsistency and semanti
clarity). And it treats problems as well structured, when man
them are not (B-2). That is, the positivist model assumes the exist
of something like an algorithmic logic of justification for determ
when a problem is solved (against which, see Putnam, 1971
neglecting any consideration of theoretical background against wh
and within which, problems arise, the model cannot easily exp
such items as A-9, B-l, B-4, B-5.
This last objection is not entirely fair, since, admittedly, m
positivists, had they written more explicitly about problems, w
have given theoretical frameworks a role in the analysis of proble
But since it is Popper, among major figures, who first stressed the
of the theoretical background, I term the enriched account the
perian model.
Popper analyzes a 'problem situation' into a 'problem', a 'fra
work', and a 'theoretical background'. In the example Popper (1
p. 172) provides, one of Galileo's problems was simply to explain
tides, but his problem situation was more complex, since he se
problem against the theoretical background of the Copernican
point, to which he was firmly committed, and attempted to solve
terms of his own conjectural hypothesis (framework) of circ
inertia. In short, Popper retains the positivist model for probl
proper, but the total problem situation is a more complex thing w
conceptual depth. (Elsewhere, Popper and his followers place m
emphasis on problem situations as inconsistencies between th
and data or between theories, and on the importance of metaphys
research programs. Hence my model captures only part of the
perian view.)
92 THOMAS NICKLES
Popper's richer conception of problems (or rather, problem situ

tions) enables him to handle, more or less adequately, all of the
constraints in our categories A and B. And despite his well know
views on logic of discovery, Popper's 'method of conjectures and
refutations' at least addresses the strong form of the problem o
inquiry. For by propounding conjectural problem solutions (even
'wild' ones, initially) and proceeding to criticize them, the problem is
determined more fully and precisely, and the direction in which
look for a better solution may become apparent. Interesting but still
faulty conjectural solutions can be viewed as defective 'description
of a/the correct problem solution. Despite these virtues, Popper
model has trouble with the data in our category C. What makes
problem deep for Popper is not the problem itself but its background
or setting. This consequence might be tolerable if the only deep
problems were represented by anomalous data which threaten im
portant theories, but that is not so. Deep problems, such as that
resolving the clash between classical mechanics and electromagnet
theory, and the problems of clarifying Newton's theory of gravitatio
and Planck's quantum theory, need not directly involve additiona
data to explain at all. In such cases, the explanation and prediction of
data may play the less central role of confirming or discontinuin
conceptual moves or of indicating the existence of a highly conce
tual (vs. purely observational) problem. Since our data C-l throug
C-10 all presuppose that problems themselves may have conceptua
depth, I conclude that Popper's model is inadequate.
Popper's view implies that one and the same problem may posses
quite different theoretical backgrounds at different times, in differen
contexts. This conception is explicitly defended in an interestin
article by Andrew Lugg (1978). Although there is an element of truth
to these suggestions, I argue against Popper and Lugg, in the nex
section, that a problem cannot be dissociated from its 'background' or
'setting'. On the contrary, the 'background' constitutes an essenti
part of the problem.
III. PROBLEMS AND THEIR SETTINGS
We must reject that part of Popper's model which identifies all

scientific problems with problems of explaining observable
phenomena (or at least makes all other problems strictly derivative
from this task). There are a great variety of problems in science, not
to mention intellectual problems in general (C-2). Popper's view
addresses itself to only one or two categories. But if we reject this
component of Popper's model, we can hardly avoid questioning his
separation of problems from their backgrounds and frameworks, i.e.,
from their settings (to adopt Lugg's term). Even problems of empiri
cal explanation may include many conceptual and methodological
constraints. A conceptually deep problem need include no significant,
empirical, phenomenal component at all. In any case, why should we
draw a distinction among the constraints on a problem solution, saying
that some contribute to the definition of the problem itself while
others belong to the background? On what grounds is such a dis
tinction to be drawn?
Jagdish Hattiangadi (1978), building on suggestions of Popper and
Agassi, advances a bold claim which explains how it is possible that
problems contain no substantial phenomenal component. He con
tends, first, that all problems have the logical structure of incon
sistencies. In addition, he rejects Popper's separation of problems
from their contexts, on the ground that serious scientific problems
have an historical structure and cannot be fully understood apart
from that. Let us consider each of these components of Hattiangadi's
model in turn.
The claim that all problems are logical inconsistencies is untenable.
As Laudan (1977) observes, the mere logical compatibility of theories
can be a problem if a stronger relation of support is expected or
demanded. While the minimal empiricist, the positivist, and even the
Popperian models of problems (as idealized above) leave no room for
problems as inconsistencies, except as derivative from problems of
explaining data, it does not help to make the same kind of mistake
they make by assimilating all problems to a single type. Ironically, as
I understand it, Hattiangadi's model cannot handle simple problems
of explaining empirical data-the only thing which our empiricist
models can handle adequately.8
Consider a problem of empirical incompleteness in a theory. The
theory is unable to explain, even badly, a phenomenon </> in its
domain of responsibility. (If, in addition, we suppose that a competing
theory can explain </>, then </> is a nonrefuting anomaly for the first
theory, in Laudan's sense, 1977, p. 29.) Yet it would not do to argue
that this problem really involves a contradiction between the pro
94 THOMAS NICKLES
position that the theory cannot explain <f> and the demand that i
explain everything in its domain. The demand remains unsatified b
the theory, but this is no logical inconsistency. And it is doubtf
whether even the conceptual blowups and physical incoherencies
which have plagued several historically important physical theori
are accurately termed inconsistencies.
Now it is often useful to speak of inconsistencies and incom
patibilities in a broader sense (cf. Leplin, 1980). I take it that Ha
tiangadi wants to do this, and I have done so myself on occasion.
also agree that problems are difficulties blocking goal attainmen
(A-7). But to claim that all problems are inconsistencies spreads th
notion of inconsistency too thinly, at the cost of blurring important
distinctions between distinct sorts of problems. Hattiangadi treats all
problems as overdetermined problems, contrary to B-6.
Hattiangadi's second claim, that problems possess an historical
structure such that problems cannot be divorced from, or even
distinguished from, their historical situations, has more to recommen
it.9 Why does he abandon Popper's distinction of problems from thei
backgrounds and frameworks and embrace the inclusion thesis (as
shall term it), the thesis that the framework and relevant portions o
the background belong to the problem itself? One main reason is tha
this enables Hattiangadi to distinguish deep from routine problem
(satisfying our data C-l and C-2). A second is that it enables him t
avoid certain difficulties of individuating problems, given his view tha
all problems are inconsistencies.
I want to continue the argument in favor of the inclusion thesis by
contending that its acceptance enables us to explain a great deal more
data in an unforced manner than can those models which reject i
One immediate and obvious advantage is that the inclusion thesi
permits problems themselves to attain great conceptual depth. An
without this depth, we cannot explain the existence of highly concep
tual problems of empirical science at all, not to mention the pure
conceptual problems of mathematics and philosophy. The data in our
category C each imply that problems themselves (and not simply thei
settings) have conceptual depth, so (I claim) the inclusion thesis i
necessary to explain each of them. So far as I can see, models such as
Popper's and Lugg's badly fail to account for this data. A full
discussion would consider each item separately, with attention t
historical cases.
It remains, however, to answer two objections raised by Lugg

(1978) to the inclusion view. Lugg's first objection is that the inclusion
thesis permits no distinction between what Max Planck called 'phan
tom problems' and the general run of overdetermined problems.
Phantom problems are those problems, such as the designing of
perpetual motion machine, which cannot be solved by any change of
setting, while overdetermined problems are "problems which have no
solution compatible with accepted belief and practice" (1978, p. 2), no
solution compatible with all the constraints on it (B-6). Unlike phantom
problems, ordinary overdetermined problems can be solved by changing
the setting, viz., by rejecting or modifying at least one of the constraints
on the problem solution.
My reply is that there is no clear, important distinction between
phantom problems and overdetermined problems in general. Contrary
to Lugg, I would say that a significant change of setting alters the
problem. Changing the setting does not permit a solution to the
original problem; rather, it enables us to solve a related problem,
replacement problem, as it were. In scientific research there are often
good reasons for tinkering with the constraints on a problem solution,
for modifying certain constraints or rejecting them outright (see
Nickles, 1980b). For me, unlike Lugg, substantial tinkering alters the
problem. To be sure, there are problems which we eventually deter
mine to be phantom problems, because we are unwilling to alter an
of the defining constraints on the problem, and we see that solution is
impossible. Squaring the circle and trisecting an angle with rule and
compass are now known to be phantom problems. Modern scienc
also regards the production of a perpetual motion machine of the firs
kind (Lugg's example) as a phantom problem. What rational persons
have done in the latter case is to give up the goal in question rathe
than to give up the constraints which define the problem (chiefly
conservation of energy). Similarly, Boltzmann eventually gave up his
aim to strictly derive the classical entropy law from mechanics (a
time-reversible theory), Planck abandoned his parallel aim of deriving
the second law for radiation from Maxwell's electromagnetic theory,
and physicists have given up the goal of reconciling classica
mechanics and classical electromagnetic theory. When scientists fac
a problem they take to be insoluble, they abandon that particula
quest and immediately go on to ask whether shifting the problem (by
altering either constraints or goals) leaves them with a new proble
96 THOMAS NICKLES
which is scientifically interesting. But this is the case with all pro
lems that scientists recognize as overdetermined.
Nor is the distinction between phantom problems and other ove
determined problems an absolute one, even on Lugg's own view, a
his discussion may suggest. Phantom problems are simply those
overdetermined problems the constraints of which scientists decide t
leave inviolate. (Again, they resolve the constraint/goal conflict
these cases by abandoning the goal.) Yet there is no such thing as
absolutely unalterable constraint. The 'absolute' constraints of o
generation may become the good approximations or the outrigh
falsehoods of the next. Therefore, the phantom problem of one
generation may become the solved problem of the next (and vic
versa!), or at least an interesting shift may occur to a replacemen
problem which is solvable. A century ago, a perpetual moti
machine of the second kind (one which works by violating t
classical second law of thermodynamics) was considered impossibl
Early in this century, Einstein and Perrin showed that Brownia
motion violates the classical second law and, in a sense, constitut
perpetual motion of the second kind. Later Bohr, Kramers, and Slater
(1924) tinkered with the first law of thermodynamics - conservation o
energy (although not with the intent of producing a perpetual motio
machine). Their statistical conception of conservation was quickl
abandoned, but the point I am trying to make is the familiar one tha
every claim is subject to revision as a response to new developments.
Lugg's second objection to the inclusion thesis is more serious. It is
that the inclusion thesis multiplies problems without necessity. Every
substantial change in the conceptual basis of a problem changes th
problem. The result is a bothersome and unnecessary 'radical probl
variance' analogous to the radical meaning variance and theory va
ance which has plagued recent philosophy of science. On the
clusion view, Lugg contends, we could no longer say that Ptolem
and Copernicus both worked on the problem of the planets; tha
Galen and Harvey both worked on the problem of the circulation
blood, and (we might add) that Plato, Descartes, and J. J. C. Smart all
addressed the mind-body problem.
The view of problems Lugg presents in (1978) is similar to Pop
per's. A problem proper is simply a task of explaining a phenomenon
and has no conceptual depth. The depth is supplied by its particul
historical setting(s). (Yet in his detailed example of Louis Agassiz
problem of explaining 'erratics', Lugg fleshes out the problem by

including what is tantamount to Popper's theoretical background and
framework.) Lugg urges us to abandon the inclusion view and adopt a
'principle of charity', which would permit us to say that although
Galen and Harvey worked in very different settings, they attacked the
same problem. In short, Lugg opts for the view that basic problems
are enduring, while holding that the problems themselves (apart from
their settings) are merely problems of explaining empirical
phenomena. This view, I contend, is unhistorical and indefensible.
Lugg's second objection is serious, however, because it raises the
difficult question of individuation and identity conditions for prob
lems. How do we tell problems apart, and when is problem P the very
same problem as problem Q? On this occasion I can touch this
question only lightly, but I hasten to point out that the question is
difficult for any theory of problems.
My answer to Lugg's formulation of the objection is that, when we
are being careful, we do want to say that Ptolemy and Copernicus
were working on rather different problems10 and that Copernicus and
Newton attacked quite different problems. Thus multiplying prob
lems is a necessity; we are merely distinguishing what are already
distinct problems. For the same reason that it would be misleading
indeed to say that Democritus and Bohr both worked on atomic
theory, it would be more than odd to say that they both worked on the
same problems.11 There is now a wealth of historical material that
documents claims such as these. Here I shall confine myself to the
logical point that A and B are two formulations of one and the same
problem (or question) only if whatever solves (or answers) one also
solves (answers) the other (A-3). Now the Bohr-Kramers-Slater vir
tual oscillator model of the atom, mentioned above, solved (tem
porarily) their problem of atomic structure and of the relation of
radiation to matter. Was it a possible solution to any problem of
Democritus? Obviously not. Democritus could not have understood
the 'Dreim?nnerarbeit', even though their paper contained but a
single, simple formula; and even if he could have understood it, it
would not have solved any of his problems. For the Greek atomists,
atoms did not even have an internal structure. The stability of the
atom was no problem for Democritus and his school! Similar remarks
could be made about the Galen-Harvey problem and about the
mind-body problem.12
98 THOMAS NICKLES
To my reply it will be objected anew that the historical study o

problems, as I am treating it and them, ironically must conclude that
problems have no history to speak of. For by exaggerating th
importance of each subtle conceptual shift, my view leads to th
conclusion that each shift amounts to a change of problem. A rese
cher could not even gain a deeper understanding of a problem withou
changing the problem, since each newly discovered constraint on the
solution would change the problem. We could no longer say tha
Copernicus worked on the problem of the planets for many years and
Planck on the blackbody problem for about six, for the very idea tha
they made progress suggests that their problems constantly shifted.
Finally, it is alleged, my inclusion view makes it impossible to explain
why we historically link Ptolemy with Copernicus and Newton rather
than, say, with Darwin or with Freud.
Surely, however (to take the last objection first), problems can b
more or less closely related without being identical. There are man
ways, needing more study, in which problems can be related. Toulmin
(1972) suggestively speaks of a 'geneology' of problems. Some pro
lems are ancestors of other problems and the offspring of still others
Then again, some problems can be modeled on other problems, on the
basis of mathematical form, intellectual content (physical conten
biological content, etc.), or both. Still other problems enjoy no su
relations to one another. The very fact that a line of inquiry evolves
over time from problem P to problem Q means that P typically w
be related to Q in ways that it is not related to problems belonging t
other departments of thought. Ptolemy's problems were the fair
close ancestors of Copernicus's problems, while Copernicus, thoug
closer in time, was perhaps a more distant ancestor of Newton.
Moreover, just as the word 'theory' is ambiguous between a con
crete achievement and a subject matter ('Bohr's 1913 theory of th
atom' vs. 'atomic theory from Stoney to Heisenberg'; 'Newton's ow
theory' vs. 'Newtonian theory'), so the word 'problem' can b
ambiguous between a concrete instance and a subject matte
('Kepler's problem of finding the shape of Mars' orbit' versus 'the Kepl
problem' - the two-body problem). This is not surprising, since concret
theories are solutions to concrete problems, and atomic theory (f
example) is just the subject area that addresses problems of atom
physics. As scientists use the word, concrete problems - the kind
thing given to graduate students to work on for their thesis research
are very specific indeed. If we employ the label in the 'subject matter'
sense, then it is true that both Ptolemy and Copernicus worked on 'the
problem of the planets' but still not useful to say that both Democritus
and Bohr tackled problems concerning the nature of atoms.
Even in the concrete sense it is perfectly natural to describe the
relation between Ptolemy's and Copernicus's problems as a 'same
ness/difference relation', to adopt Harold Brown's term (1975)-the
same in certain respects and importantly different in others, but with
strong ancestral relations. On this matter I side with Brown against
Lugg's criticisms of him. Thinking of problems in terms of constraints
facilitates specifying the commonalities and the differences in parti
cular cases.
The other part of the objection - that on the inclusion view our
problems shift right out from under us as we learn more about
them-is best answered by setting out my version of the inclusion
model of problems more fully, which I do in Section V. For now let
me say that I do not believe my differences from Lugg on this point
are as substantial as may appear. I prefer to think of a problem as
something quite definite, as something with a pretty determinate
structure, rather than as an historically changing entity. To adopt this
standpoint is not at all to deny that problems are historical in the
more important sense. It is not to sacrifice history to Logic. Since on
my view problems are objectively present in a body of humanly
produced theory, data, methodological strictures, and aims, they may
exist all unrecognized and may be discovered gradually, constraint
by-constraint (A-8, A-9). In this way I can speak of successively
sharper reformulations of one and the same problem, as new con
straints are discovered, as long as said constraints are already im
plicit in the relevant corpus of thought and practice. (See, e.g.,
Nickles, 1978, on the development of the black-body problem.) But
this very way of speaking then forces me to say that the problem-/or
scientist-X (say Planck) changed significantly with the discovery of
this new condition. A change of problem in this 'agent' sense need not
be a change of problem in the previous, 'semantic' sense (problem
for-a-body-of-theory-and-practice). Problem shifts in the semantic
sense occur when significant changes in goals, methodology, or the
theoretical context occur (e.g., the development of a new theory
which has implications for a given problem area, or the abandonment
of an old theory which strongly conditioned the problem). I suspect
100 THOMAS NICKLES
that Lugg and others of like mind want to draw similar distinction
between (a) the agent sense and the semantic sense of 'problem',
the concrete and the subject-matter sense, and (c) changes i
problem from changes of problem.
I now complete my limited survey of current conceptions of proble
by considering Laudan's problem-solving model of science - the mos
comprehensive, interesting, and best known of all recent work
problems. I shall then spell out my version of the inclusion mod
cannot consider here other interesting work on problems and puzzle
such as Bunge (1967).
IV. LAUDANS PROBLEM-SOLVING MODEL OF INQUIRY
This section is in no sense a review of Laudan's rich and fascinating

book, Progress and Its Problems. Relative to the restricted topic of
this paper, the book's chief virtues are that (1) it is problem-centered,
i.e., it is a theory of inquiry and not merely an account of the
justification of the products of inquiry; (2) unlike empiricist concep
tions of problems, Laudan recognizes the importance of conceptual
problems to inquiry; (3) the book nicely brings out the heuristic
dimension of inquiry, chiefly in its attention to pursuit and pursuit
worthiness of theories; (4) the book has a healthy historicist, natural
istic, anti-foundational orientation. Impressive as these advances are,
I shall argue that, in each case, Laudan does not go far enough in the
direction that he has pointed us.
Since I must assume the reader's familiarity with Laudan's book,
the following brief summary of the problem solving model is intended
merely to refresh the memory rather than as an adequate exposition.
According to Laudan, the chief work of science is to solve problems.
He distinguishes empirical problems (roughly, problems concerning
what the world is like) from conceptual problems (difficulties which
arise in our efforts to solve empirical problems). He further dis
tinguishes three types of empirical problems: unsolved problems -
those which no theory has solved; solved problems -those which at
least one theory has solved; and anomalous problems - problems
which a particular theory has not solved but which a competitor has.
In particular, a theory may face nonrefuting anomalies - problems
solved by a competitor but which a particular theory cannot solve,
even wrongly (hence, there is no 'refuting' prediction). Following
Gutting (personal communication), I think Laudan should recog

another class of anomalous problems, in which no competitor n
have solved the problems (indeed, there may be no serious competit
in the field) but which a given theory solves incorrectly. Recogniz
this class of anomalous problems (which is close to the standa
Popperian sort of anomaly) would not require Laudan to give up
claim that unsolved problems count against no theory (since they a
solved by none), for we do want to distinguish anomalous solut
from no solutions at all.
Laudan (Ch. 2) also distinguishes several types of concept
problems, chiefly internal problems, such as conceptual ambigu
circularity, inconsistency; and external problems, which arise when
theory clashes with other theories, principles, methodological rules,
widely shared world-views.
Competing research traditions are appraised by comparing t
problem-solving success of their latest theories. Laudan's discus
suggests a calculus by which the weighted sum of conceptual
anomalous problems left unsolved by each theory is subtracted fro
the weighted sum of empirical problems solved. The theory which
the highest score is most problem-solving effective and should
accepted (where 'accepted' means, roughly, 'treated in furt
research as if it were true'). It is rational to pursue a theory wh
you do not accept when the pursued theory has a higher rate
success in the recent past than the accepted theory, even thoug
cannot match the latter in overall problem-solving success. Rati
ity thus consists in choosing the most progressive theory and t
tion, rather than progress consisting in the choice of ever m
rational theories.
A number of criticisms of Laudan's model are possible. I think th
in making all appraisal comparative, he swings too far away from
monotheoretic account by assuming that a theory always has ser
competitors. And his interesting claim that unsolved problems rare
count against a theory is too strong. (Notice that Laudan could a
them to count against a theory and they would still cancel out in t
comparative appraisal process, provided that they were of equ
weight for all theories compared.) But my intention here is no
rehearse the difficulties pointed out by Laudan's reviewers and criti
My purpose is, first, to see how well Laudan's account fits
constraints on the problem concept and, second, to appraise it
102 THOMAS NICKLES
contribution to the theory of inquiry, understood as a problem solvin

activity.
Taking our constraints in order, I think Laudan's account first runs
into trouble with A-7. Goals are constitutive of problems, since
problems are obstacles or difficulties in the way of reaching goals.
Changing goals will change the problems, eliminating some of the
original problems altogether. The topic of goals and their rational
appraisal is huge and difficult, but in a nutshell Laudan's difficulty is
that he makes problem solving itself the goal of scientific inquiry and
not simply the means to attain a 'higher' goal such as a true world
picture. Because he denies that these epistemic goals (truth, know
ledge) are rational goals of scientific inquiry (since we can never
know whether we have attained them or how close we are), and since
he also explicitly denies that technological advancement is the aim of
science (in his revealingly titled epilogue, 'Beyond Veritas and
Praxis'), Laudan appears to be left without any useful or in
tellectually justifiable purpose for problem solving to serve. He
speaks of satisfying the need of human curiosity about the world, but
would our curiosity be satisfied if we ever became convinced that
Laudan's nonepistemic view of science is correct? Of course, true
knowledge and practical utility have been past goals of many scien
tists, so Laudan need have no difficulty in accounting for the exis
tence of scientific problems among communities possessing these
goals. But unless he can establish that problem solving is an end in
itself, he will have trouble explaining the existence and urgency
(weighting) of problems, particularly conceptual problems, in an ideal,
Laudanite scientific community. For example, he will find it difficult
to explain why the incompatibility of two highly successful theories
of different domains is a serious problem - the more serious the more
comprehensive and successful the two theories individually.
Laudan's rather casual use of the term 'problem' leaves me un
certain how well his account meets conditions A-8 and A-9, but there
is no reason why Laudan cannot develop his conception of problems
so as to incorporate an agent/semantic distinction (see above, p. 99)
and other elements of a more detailed account.
Laudan's model handles the items in my category B very well, but
it does not fully satisfy C-2, C-3, and especially C-4. Despite its
emphasis on conceptual problems, Laudan's model remains too
empiricist, since it treats conceptual problems merely as difficulties
arising in the attempt to solve empirical problems. This is reflected in

his 'maximin' calculus (pp. 68, 124), in his view that the goal of
science is to maximize the number of empirical problems solved while
minimizing the number of conceptual problems. Thus the real goal of
science for Laudan is empirical problem solving. In the appraisal
calculus, solving an anomalous problem counts twice (removing a
difficulty plus adding a positive problem solution) while solving a
conceptual problem counts just once (removing a difficulty). That this
part of Laudan's model remains too empiricist can be brought out by
contrasting it with another perspective (which goes too far in the
opposite direction): solving conceptual problems is the central goal of
science; empirical problem solutions often are not inherently
interesting-they merely help us evaluate competing solutions to
conceptual problems. This latter perspective is suggested by Joseph
Agassi's title, 'The Nature of Scientific Problems and Their Roots in
Metaphysics' (1964). On this view, science aims to give us a concep
tually deep, coherent, world picture, to resolve disputes between
(what used to be) metaphysical research traditions. Science (I would
add) replaces metaphysics by assuming the responsibility (and doing a
better job!) of telling us what the world is really like.
The obvious way out of this predicament (and one that Laudan
seems close to taking) is to abandon the quasi-positivistic distinction
between empirical problems and conceptual problems, the former
being shallow problems of explaining more or less observable data
and the latter being deep problems. In its place we put something like
the conception of the problems that I am developing, in which even
empirical problems can have great conceptual depth. The obser
vational constraints are but the tip of the problem-iceberg. (E.g.,
consider the deep theoretical constraints on Planck's attempt to
determine and then to explain the black-body distribution law.)
Finally, Laudan's model does not do justice to C-10. He always
treats problems as liabilities for a theory and for the research tradi
tion in which it is embedded. But not all problems which arise within
a research tradition need be problems for the tradition, at least
initially. Just as questions have presuppositions (as we all know, one
can ask a stupid question!), just as we speak of 'good', 'intelligent',
'insightful' questions, so with problems. Good and insightful problems
are achievements, not only in successfully initiating inquiry but in the
knowledge that they display. Think of what Heitler and London had
104 THOMAS NICKLES
to know (or to insightfully conjecture) even to pose their problems o

molecular bonding in just the way that they did.13 Laudan's mod
cannot explain the promise of a new research tradition whic
generates a whole host of interesting, new problems, most of wh
are not yet solved. At the beginning, such questions point to (presup
pose) theoretical resources which have yet to be fully exploited. T
fact that certain important and promising questions can be asked at
should rate in favor of a tradition, if the questions cannot even arise
for a less imaginative competitor. (Think of cognitive psychology vs.
behaviorism in the early 1960's.) Yet Laudan's calculus may well gi
the palm to the less imaginative theory. As a historian of science as w
as a philosopher, Laudan can easily appreciate the importance of 'aski
the right question', of posing the 'right' problem.
By properly understanding problems (or at least certain kinds o
problems) as achievements, we can also overcome the potentially
serious difficulty for Laudan that a successor theory, by being bo
broader in scope and deeper than its predecessor, actually will fa
(or create) more and deeper problems than its predecessor. The move
from a theory which explains eight of its ten problems (to state the
point with simplistic concreteness) to a successor which explain
twenty of its thirty problems (including, say, eight of its predecessor
problems, but a different eight) is progressive in one important sens
but it is not progressive according to Laudan's calculus (giv
reasonable assumptions about the problem weights). Acceptance
science often occurs before Laudan's calculus says it should.
The general thrust of several of the above criticisms is that Laudan
needs a more detailed account of problems-of their 'fine structure
so to speak-and of how they arise. Such an account, including a
adequate treatment of goals and of conceptually deep constraints
'empirical' problems, is necessary to understand the detailed reaso
ing that scientists engage in in their problem solving activities. Mor
detail is probably necessary also for Laudan to recover the criteria of
identity and individuation of problems which his account needs b
presently lacks. To be fair, I must point out that in Progress Laud
was more concerned with the broad sweep of inquiry as a proble
solving process than with details, and he stressed the tentative natur
of his account. What, then, can we say about Laudan's model as
general theory of inquiry?
Here I shall try, all too briefly, to establish my claim that Laud
does not go far enough along the path that he has pointed out to us.
With reference to the four cardinal virtues of Laudan's work which I

recognized at the beginning of this section, I hope it is now clear why
I think that although Laudan's problem oriented account puts general
methodology back on the track (as an account of, and sometime guide
for, inquiry, rather than as a foundational appraisal of the products of
inquiry-i.e., theory of justification), he needs to say a great deal
more about what problems are and how they arise. I also hope to
have shown that, although his emphasis on conceptual problems goes
far toward putting empiricist models of problems and of research
generally in their place, Laudan does not quite succeed in overcoming
the tradition. It remains to discuss heuristics and anti
foundationalism.
Despite the prominence he gives to pursuit, pursuitworthiness,
promise, fertility, etc., Laudan's model contains noticeable gaps at
just these loci. Thus his appraisal calculus explains why a research
proposal, newly formulated program, or theory is promising only
when the proposal, program, or theory being appraised already
has a track record of problem solving success, even if a short
one. (Cf. Frankel, 1980.) Laudan himself wants to say that promise
cannot be wholly understood in terms of past achievements when he
remarks: "Similarly, Daltonian atomism generated so much interest in
the early years of the nineteenth century largely because of its
scientific promise, rather than its concrete achievements" (p. 113).
Since heuristic appraisal is concerned more with future prospect than
with past performance, Laudan's account is insufficiently heuristic.
The same can be said for his treatment of the Duhemian argument
against crucial tests. Siding with simple logic against historical prac
tice, Laudan (pp. 40jf) holds that, when failure occurs, the blame
should be distributed equally over all participating theories and
auxiliary hypotheses. But just as confirmation is more selective than
this (Glymour, 1980), so is disconfirmation. If scientists could not
decide where to locate the blame, because of Duhemian logic, there
would be no reasons for pressing research in one direction rather than
another - a most unheuristic situation.
Laudan's interesting reply is that equal assignment of blame is only
the first stage of a two-stage process. Subsequently, the core theory
and all auxiliary hypotheses implicated are evaluated in terms of their
problem solving effectiveness. The blame should be located in those
elements which are least effective. Laudan's reply reduces all reasons
for discriminating among Duhemian premises to determination of
106 THOMAS NICKLES
relative problem solving effectiveness. I grant that such reasons

important, but I think Laudan's calculus is a cumbersome instrumen
for many such discrimination tasks, (a) Laudan's evaluation
cedure is shortcircuited by the fact that scientists often prod
specific reasons why one component is more suspect than the other
Analysis of the forms of the equations involved may help to loc
the source of a conceptual blowup, for example. It is these spec
reasons which heuristically guide further inquiry. In many case
equal assigment of blame followed by analysis of problem solv
effectiveness is a procedure which is simply bypassed, (b) I
doubtful whether accurate information concerning the problem solv
ing effectiveness of each Duhemian premise (which will includ
individual components of theories as well as broad, framework p
ciples) is normally available, (c) Even if Laudan's calculus is app
able, does it tell the scientist what he really wants to know? If
calculus is employed in its 'acceptance' mode, it will systematica
and conservatively allocate the blame to new, upstart theories rathe
than to the grand old warhorses which have proven their worth. An
if it is employed in the 'pursuit' mode, the bias may be reverse
Either way, we come back to the point that future promise is n
simply a matter of past performance. The calculus appears to ign
or to undervalue the finely structured reasoning specific to the cas
hand.
Laudan's distinction between pursuit and acceptance is over
drawn.14 To a large extent, pursuit of problem solutions expands to
swallow up acceptance (the last vestige of the old theory of
justification). Restated still more provocatively, heuristics expands to
largely swallow up logic of justification. The point is, many types of
heuristic appraisal apply as much to 'accepted' theories as to 'pur
sued' theories and programs. Certainly methodology of discovery
(which includes more than heuristics) comprehends justification and
acceptance, since the latter are but a late stage of the discovery
process. These claims are spelled out in detail in my (1980a and 1981).
Here I can only point out that an accepted theory will remain an
active center of research only so long as it retains a certain amount of
promise for dealing with still unsolved problems. As Ernan McMullin
emphasizes in his perceptive (1976), promise looks to the future
rather than to the past and is an estimate of the resources of the
theory. No matter how successful a theory has been, if its resources
are thought to have been exhausted, scientific attention will turn

elsewhere; and a theory in this position is ripe for abandonment.
(E.g., consider classical mechanics during the first years of this
century.) With theories and research programs in science as with the
procedures and products of other hyperprogressive disciplines (paint
ing, musical composition and jazz, etc.), the question is not 'What
have you done for me?', not even 'What have you done for me
lately T, but 'What do you promise to do for me tomorrow?'
Ultimately, these claims require qualification. A theory can be an
accepted, trusted part of the background knowledge without its being
a center of research activity. And justification is not entirely a matter
of heuristic appraisal. Nevertheless, bold claims are necessary to
overcome the weight of opposing tradition, which denies heuristics
any interesting role in rational methodology.
Although his general line is historicist and naturalistic (in the good
sense of recognizing that we have no privileged access to reality, that
we cannot stand outside of history and gain a God's-eye view of the
world), Laudan's appraisal calculus still smacks too much of posi
tivistic algorithms and confirmation theory - theory of justification in
a sense that goes beyond a critical interest in scientific reasoning to
something like philosophical foundationism. This is especially true
when acceptance is at the center of attention. Let me illustrate with
reference to Laudan's recent attack on convergent realism (Laudan,
1980). The nature of the attack again reveals that Laudan's view of
problems is too empiricist.
In attempting to trace out rigorously the consequences of the problem
solving model, Laudan sticks too closely by his calculus in drawing the
conclusion that Popper et alia are simply wrong to suppose that a
successor theory should go over into its predecessor, to a first
approximation, and thereby explain the success of the predecessor. If
overall problem solving success is our criterion of rational acceptance,
states Laudan, there is no reason why a successor theory need have any
substantial connection with its predecessor, its laws or mechanisms.
Now Laudan does have a point. It is too strong to require, without
exception, that any adequate successor reduce in some approximation
to its predecessor. But by thinking in terms of 'final' appraisal or
acceptance (theory of justification) rather than in terms of the problem
solving process (inquiry, heuristics), he overlooks the richly woven
continuities that normally hold between the two theories of a mature
108 THOMAS NICKLES
science by the very nature of conceptually deep problems. Given that a

mature science will have conceptually deep problems, i.e., problems
which possess deep theoretical conditions among their constraints,
and given that these theoretical conditions serve, as much as any
thing, to define the subject matter of that science, a complete break of
the kind Laudan seems to have in mind would amount to changing the
subject. The one theory could hardly be a successor of the other. In
particular, as I have shown elsewhere (1976, 1978), limit constraints
are one of the most important types of problem defining conditions.
Many problems are partly defined by conditions of the sort: Any
adequate solution must reduce to this formula in the low frequency
limit and to that one in the high frequency limit. To a large degree,
problems are anchored in the theoretical background which is con
stitutive of them. (This partly explains B-12, to which Laudan himself
is strongly committed.) Problems are not as free-floating as Laudan
imagines (cf. Lugg, 1979). In supposing that successor theories nor
mally break so radically from their predecessors, he unwittingly
implies that problems are shallow, and he threatens to release the
'essential tension' between tradition and innovation of which Kuhn
(1959) so revealingly speaks.15 In my view, this essential tension is
part of the very nature of problems (B-ll). A deep problem, by its
very depth, is rooted in a more or less established body of theory; yet
it could not be a serious problem at all unless it apparently challenged
that body of theory, thereby calling for innovation or at least im
agination.
This is but one of the reasons why I think Laudan's (justified) attack
on convergent realism goes too far. In a sense it is his own 'ad
ventitious philosophical puritanism' (to use Davidson's term16) which
leads Laudan to conclude that fallibilism implies skepticism about
general scientific claims and which in turn leads him to be (rightly)
critical of the over-optimistic puritanism of Boyd (1973) and Putnam
(1976) and, as a result, to think that theoretical realism and even a
nonfoundational epistemic view of science are untenable.
Laudan is mildly schizophrenic: he is explicitly historicist, natural
istic, and anti-foundationist, but implicitly his book still makes
philosophers the guardians of scientific rationality and objectivity.
Laudan is not quite cured of that old foundationist hankering for a
content-neutral framework within which to categorize and judge all
possible content (cf. Rorty, 1979).
V. THE CONSTRAINT-INCLUSION MODEL
What, then, are problems? My short answer is that a problem consists

of all the conditions or constraints on the solution plus the demand
that the solution (an object satisfying the constraints) be found.17 For
this reason (and for lack of a prettier name), I call it the constraint
inclusion model of problems. The constraints characterize - in a sense
'describe' - the sought-f or solution. Specific types of problems will, of
course, possess special features. But what else could a problem in
general include than the constraints plus the demand or request? I can
think of nothing that this model leaves out.
Does it include too much? It is agreed on all hands that problems
do not arise apart from goals and demands. Furthermore, a problem
must include at least one constraint on the solution in order to be a
well-defined problem at all and in order for inquiry into its solution to
be possible. I know of no basis for discriminating those constraints
which do belong to the problem proper from those which do not, so I
include all constraints in the problem. For practical purposes, only the
more familiar or more important constraints special to a particular
problem usually are mentioned in scientific communication and in
everyday life; but every single constraint, by definition of 'constraint',
rules out some conceivable solution as inadmissible and thereby (I
claim) helps to define the problem. On my view, nearly every problem
arising within a discipline or within a human society will have
numerous constraints in common; but that fact presents no difficulty
of individuation, for the constraint-inclusion model, as its name
implies, also contains all constraints which individuate problems on
the other models I have reviewed. My model can handle any in
dividuation based on constraints and/or goals at all.
The role of our 'data' on problems in this discussion can now be
better appreciated. For these data represent many (though not all) of
the constraints we want to impose on the problem concept itself, on
the solution to the 'problem' problem. An answer to the question
'What is a problem?' must satisfy these constraints. The constraints
collectively 'describe' what a problem is. Thus my task in this paper
is a reflexive one. I am inquiring into the nature of problems them
selves.
Erotetic logic offers one entry to my model. (Unlike Hattiangadi, I
make no sharp distinction between questions and problems; and I find
110 THOMAS NICKLES
some of the logical discussion suggestive, although much too form

to be directly applicable to most scientific problems.) Recall that
question, for erotetic logicians, is a set of admissible answers plus
selection demand on the form of the answer. As Belnap and Steel put
it,
A first approximation to the central idea is that each question is to be conceived as

presenting a range of alternatives as its subject, from among which alternatives the
respondent is to make a selection as from a tray of hors d'oeuvres (1976, p. 17).
But how, many readers will object, can a question be defined in terms
of its answers or a problem in terms of its solutions? Doesn't this put
the cart before the horse? In science, at least, isn't it the case that our
puzzlement arises not from indecisiveness over which hors d'oeuvre
or available theory to choose but precisely because we have no
available answer at all - we can think of none, or at least none which
satisfies known constraints?18 Moreover, how does the erotetic view
distinguish different questions which have the same range of ad
missible answers-such as, "What color is George Washington's
horse?' and 'What color is George Washington's house?' Or 'What is
the melting point of lead in degrees centigrade?' and 'What is the
melting point of iron in degrees centigrade?' For the same set of
numbers constitutes the set of admissible answers for each of these
latter questions and the same set of colors for the former.
Belnap and Steel avoid this problem by construing answers as
complete sentences which repeat the question. 'The melting point of
lead is 327?C and 'The melting point of iron is 1535?C obviously
answer distinct questions. However, one may wonder whether this
device does not amount to semi-circularly defining questions in terms
of themselves. And must the answer to 'What is the melting point of
lead in degrees centigrade?' be a complete (question-repeating) sen
tence rather than simply '327'?19
Be that as it may, I do not base my conception of scientific
problems on any particular, formal erotetic logic. My model follows
not the letter of the erotetic analysis but only the spirit, as expressed
in the central insight that "Knowing what counts as an answer is
equivalent to knowing the question."20
The reader can now anticipate my next move. It is the same move
that solves the Meno paradox, viz., to point out that we can know
what counts as an answer without actually having any answers in
WHAT IS A PROBLEM THAT WE MAY SOLVE IT? Ill
hand. Interesting scientific problems are indeed unlike Belnap's tray

of hors d'oeuvres; a set of full, alternative answers is rarely available
in advance (cf. eliminative induction). But what is available from the
start and must be, if we are to have a problem at all, is some
constraints on the solution(s). And it is precisely the function of
these constraints, and those which are discovered as inquiry pro
ceeds, to delimit the range of admissible solutions to the problem.
Thus, in my view, there is a large grain of truth in saying that a
problem is defined in terms of its admissible solutions. But here I
significantly alter the erotetic logicians' doctrine to say that a problem
can be defined, not necessarily in terms of the actual set of per
missible solutions themselves - for we may know the problem without
knowing any permissible solutions - but rather, in terms of something
which determines the range of admissible solutions themselves,
namely the constraints.
This departure from the standard erotetic view also solves the
problem of individuation raised above. For now it is not the set of
admissible answers (solutions) but (roughly) the constraints which
determine the former set that defines the question (problem) and
individuates one problem from another. Two problems differ if and
only if (and insofar as) their constraints differ. It is of course possible
for distinct sets of constraints to determine the same range (or at least
overlapping ranges) of admissible answers; otherwise, it would be
impossible for a theory-cum-problem-solution to solve more than one
problem (A-5).
I now set out the model a bit more fully. The basic idea is that a
problem is a demand that a certain goal be achieved plus constraints
on the manner in which the goal is achieved, i.e., conditions of
adequacy on the problem solution. Here several points of clarification
are in order. First, these constraints may not all be known. Usually,
additional constraints are uncovered as one progresses toward a
solution to the problem. Indeed, the entire problem may exist un
detected for a time until an investigator discovers it. It follows from
my characterization of problems in terms of constraints that problems
are entities which have 'objective' existence, just as the constraints
themselves have. A problem exists within a body of belief, assump
tions, practices, and demands whether or not anyone recognizes its
presence (A-8). Today we can point out problems in the theories of
previous generations which went unrecognized at the time but were
112 THOMAS NICKLES
present within that historical body of theory and practice nonetheless.

Such a view does not reify problems as eternal Platonic entitites
existing independently of human knowledge and aspirations. Th
Greeks did not fail to solve the mind-body problem or problems o
nuclear structure, for in the context of their intellectual traditions an
goals, these problems did not exist (A-7).
Thus (to answer the objection left hanging on p. 99 above) we ca
now see how different people can know different things about one an
the same problem, how a problem can be approached from different
directions, even from different fields (A-9),21 and how an investigat
can discover and articulate a problem step by step without th
underlying problem changing with the emergence into knowledge of
each new constraint.
Second, constraints need not (all) be explicitly formalizable in terms
of a precise set of features or rules which the solution must satisfy.
There is room here for what Michael Polanyi (1966) called 'the tac
dimension'.22 My model leaves open the possibility of tacit
constraints - conditions on the solution which are not, and perhap
cannot be, fully articulated but whose presence is indicated in th
degree of agreement in the judgments and actions of competent
practitioners of a discipline or craft. (See Kuhn, 1962, and Dreyfu
1972). For example, your problem may be to find a mug-file ph
tograph of the man who robbed you-and recognition of faces is
something that has so far resisted features analysis. The same ma
hold true of legal judgment, medical diagnosis, aesthetic judgment
and so on (Wartofsky, 1980).
Third, some constraints are more fundamental than others, som
are more firmly established, while others remain more flexible o
conjectural. In highly developed disciplines such as the exact sciences
and law, the constraints may form an elaborate structure. Indeed, the
problem may be a demand that a certain gap in a theoretical structur
be filled, or that an incongruity or clash within the structure b
eliminated.
A problem is a set of constraints (better, a constraint structure) plus
a demand that the object (or an object, etc., depending on the selec
tion properties of the demand) delimited or 'described' by the con
straints be obtained. How is it that constraints, or rather, their
linguistic formulations (for constraints, like problems, are non
linguistic items which can be formulated or described in various
ways), describe the problem solution? By their very function of

defining what counts as a solution they provide a kind of description
of the solution. The set of constraints thereby determines the ad
missible solutions to the problem.
This explains how a problem can be defined in terms of its ad
missible solutions plus the demand that one or more of them be
produced. Roughly speaking, the formulation of a problem (in my
view) ?5 just a description of its solution(s) plus the demand. On my
view it is literally true that 'Stating the problem is half the solution'!
Of course, the description of the solution contained in the statement
of the problem does not represent the solution in the desired form;
otherwise, there would be no more profound questions than 'What
color was Washington's white horse?'
The resolution of Meno's paradox (A-l, A-2) poses no difficulty for
the constraint-inclusion model. Inquiry is possible because a state
ment of a genuine question or problem is, aside from the demand, just
a description of the answer-the object sought. If enough constraints
are known to make the problem clear and well defined to in
vestigators, that means they know what would count as a solution, if
they should happen to stumble on it. Moreover, the constraints can
and usually do provide positive guidance toward a problem solution.
They not only tell you when you have found the solution but in what
region of the problem space to look for it. This view of problems
easily explains the possibility of complex reasoning in the context of
discovery (B-8, B-9) and gives an awakening slap to the long dormant
study of discovery and innovation. It solves the strong form as well
as the weak form of the problem of inquiry as completely as the strong
problem can be solved, since my model of problems includes all
constraints on the solution, including algorithmic ones, where they exist.
It is easy to see, on the constraint-inclusion model, how some
problems can be deeper than others (C-l), how one might have purely
conceptual problems (C-2, C-3), how one can initially have a vague
hunch about a problem and succeed or fail to establish the existence
of a genuine problem. And so on with the remaining data. In parti
cular, I believe that it is a virtue of my view, and not a defect, that
Brown's 'sameness/difference relation' holds between problems ad
dressed by savants at different times, in different historical circum
stances, or at the same time from different research traditions (see
above, p. 99).
114 THOMAS NICKLES
On the negative side, admittedly, the constraint-inclusion mode

needs more development and must more directly address the identity
individuation issues. Here the discussion can be guided by the parallel
discussion of theories. For I construe problems not as linguist
entities but, like theories, as conceptual structures (plus demands).23
This move from linguistic to conceptual structures should not sur
prise, for what is many a scientific problem but the specifications fo
constructing a theory (problem solution) plus the intellectual demand
that the theory be built? And what, in turn, is a theory but a problem
way of generating new problems?!
University of Nevada, Reno

NOTES
1 Draft versions of different parts of this paper were read at the Universit
Las Vegas, and at a University of Pittsburgh workshop on scientific cha
benefitted from discussion with Larry Laudan, Andrew Lugg, Maurice F
Harold Brown and others. I also gratefully acknowledge the support of t
Science Foundation (Grant SOC-7907078).
2 See Kuhn (1962), Popper (1972), and Laudan (1977).
3 Recall that for Kuhn (1962) the paradigm 'guarantees' the solvability of
problems that he terms 'puzzles'.
4 For discussion of these three kinds of problems, see, respectively, M
Finocchiaro (1980); and Shapere (1969), Laudan (1977), and Leplin (1980).
5 E.g., Planck's problem of finding a non-quantum interpretation of th
radiation law and his problem of reconciling statistical mechanics with
entropy law. See Klein (1962), (1966), and Kuhn (1978).
E.g., the black-body radiation problem was reformulated as a problem
cavity radiation. It was treated as a question concerning ideal material o
Planck, as a problem of counting normal modes of vibration by Rayleigh
Debye, et ai, as a problem in the theory of electrons by Lorentz, as a
atomic state transitions and radiation by Einstein in 1916, and as a problem
occupation numbers by Bose in 1924. For references see Nickles (1980e).
7 For example, see Kuhn's discussion of the pendulum-efflux problem in hi
to the second edition of (1962) and also Darden (1976).
8 Hattiangadi acknowledges that there are a large number of apparent coun
to his thesis, but he does little to show that appearance differs from reality
9 I have no space to discuss the details of Hattiangadi's position or his
thesis that scientific inquiry organizes itself into tacit debates.
10 It is difficult to judge precisely how close Copernicus's problems were to
because of our limited information about Ptolemy and his aims. Copernicu
have differed substantially.
11 I am not here denying that a problem may have several, quite differe
(A-6).
12 On the mind-body problem, see Matson (1966) and Rorty (1979), Ch. 1.
13 For an illuminating discussion of this case, see Bantz (1980).
14 Laudan informs me that he would now de-emphasize acceptance somewhat, in favor
of pursuit. For more on discovery and pursuit, see my (1980a).
15 Kuhn himself might have kept this point more in mind when he overemphasized the
discontinuity of revolutions in some passages of (1962), where he spoils his earlier
discussion by locating tradition and innovation in separate periods - normal and rev
olutionary science. This paragraph also owes something to discussion with Gutting and
Lugg.
16 See Davidson (1967), p. 116, and also Rorty (1979), to which I am indebted.
17 It will be obvious to anyone who knows their work that my account owes a good
deal to Reitman (1964, 1965) and to Simon (1977). After this paper was completed,
Professor Simon called my attention to his early essay (1962), co-authored by Newell
and Shaw, in which their conception of problems and the relation of problem solving to
heuristics and to innovation is set out explicitly.
18 See Bromberger (1966) on 'p-predicaments' and '^-predicaments'.
19 For this last point and others, see Tichy (1978).
20 Hamblin (1958), quoted by Belnap and Steel (1976), p. 35.
21 Indeed, we should expect, on my account, that the convergence or overlap of two
fields (or the switching of the fields by a scientist) often will result in rapid problem
solving progress. For pooling constraints can result in a much better 'fix' on common
problems-i.e., more detailed 'descriptions' of the solutions being sought. (Here I am
indebted to P. William Bechtel.) Laudan's interesting view that problems do not exist
until solved by a theory is a radical variant of my way of handling the Meno paradox,
the problem of how inquiry is possible.
22 However, I agree with Simon (1976) against Polanyi (1966), pp. 22-25, that tacit
knowledge is not necessary to solve the Meno paradox. On the issue of rules and the
tacit dimension, see also Kuhn (1962), Dreyfus (1972), and Wartofsky (1980).
23 This suggests that we treat problems in a manner parallel (insofar as possible) to the
semantic conception of theories. (For discussion of the semantic conception, and
references, see Suppe, 1974, pp. 221jf.) By construing theories as nonlinguistic entities,
the semantic view avoids the difficulty that each change of formulation is a change of
theory-and we want to make the same move for problems. This move does not in
itself neatly resolve other individuation issues. Might not our conceptions of theories
(problem solutions) and problems be tightly linked? If so, neither theories nor problems
should be analyzed in isolation from the other. An account of one must dovetail with an
account of the other. Nor can problems be simply subjective matters of belief or of
conflicts within our systems of belief (as per Hattiangadi), except of course in the
'agent' sense. In the 'semantic' sense, problems exist for humanly produced bodies of
theory, data, practice, and goals, whether or not anyone ever believed those particular
theories or conjectures. If forced to choose, I would place problems in Popper's (1972)
'third world' rather than in his 'second world'.
REFERENCES
Agassi, Joseph: 1964, 'The nature of scientific problems and their roots in metaphysi
in M. Bunge (ed.), The Critical Approach to Science and Philosophy, Free Pr
116 THOMAS NICKLES
New York, pp. 189-211. Reprinted in Agassi, Science in Flux, Reidel, Dordrecht,
1975, pp. 208-239.
Bantz, David: 1980, 'The structure of discovery: Evolution of structural accounts of
chemical bonding', in Nickles (1980d), pp. 291-329.
Belnap, Nuel, and Thomas Steel: 1976, The Logic of Questions and Answers, Yale
Univ. Press, New Haven.
Bohr, N., H. A. Kramers, and J. C. Slater: 1924, 'The quantum theory of radiation',
reprinted in B. L. van der Waerden (ed.), Sources of Quantum Mechanics, Dover,
New York, 1968, pp. 159-176.
Boyd, Richard: 1973, 'Realism, underdetermination, and a causal theory of evidence',
Noms 7, 1-12.
Bromberger, Sylain: 1966, 'Why questions', in R. G. Colodny (ed.), Mind and Cosmos,
Univ. of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, pp. 86-111.
Brown, Harold: 1975, 'Problem changes in science and philosophy', Metaphilosophy 6,
177-192.
Bunge, Mario: 1967, Scientific Research I: The Search for System, Springer-Verlag, New
York.
Darden, Lindley: 1976, 'Reasoning in scientific change: Charles Darwin, Hugo DeVries,
and the discovery of segregation', Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 7
127-169.
Davidson, Donald: 1967, 'Truth and meaning', Synthese 7, 304-323.
Dreyfus, Hubert: 1972, What Computers Can't Do, Harper & Row, New York, 2nd ed.,
enlarged, 1979.
Finocchiaro, Maurice: 1980, 'Scientific discoveries as growth of understanding: The
case of Newton's gravitation', in Nickles (1980c), pp. 235-256.
Frankel, Henry: 1980, The importance of anticipating problem solutions in theory
choice', Journal of Scientific and Industrial Research 39, 57-68.
Glymour, Clark: 1980, Theory and Evidence, Princeton Univ. Press, Princeton.
Gutting, Gary: 1980, 'Science as discovery', Revue Internationale de Philosophie,
forthcoming.
Hamblin, C. L.: 1958, 'Questions', Australasian Journal of Philosophy 36, 159-168.
Hattiangadi, J. N.: 1978, 'The structure of problems', Philosophy of the Social Sciences
8, 345-365, and 9, 49-71.
Hempel, Carl G.: 1965, 'Aspects of scientific explanation', in Aspects of Scientific
Explanation, Free Press, New York, pp. 331-496.
Klein, M. J.: 1962, 'Max Planck and the beginnings of the quantum theory', Archive for
History of Exact Sciences 1, 459-479.
Klein, M. J.: 1966, 'Thermodynamics and quanta in Planck's work', Physics Today 19,
23-32.
Kuhn, Thomas: 1959, 'The essential tension', reprinted in Kuhn (1977), pp. 225-239.
Kuhn, Thomas: 1962, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, Univ. of Chicago Press,
Chicago. 2nd ed., enlarged, 1970.
Kuhn, Thomas: 1977, The Essential Tension, Univ. of Chicago Press, Chicago.
Kuhn, Thomas: 1978, The Black-Body Problem and the Quantum Discontinuity,
1894-1912, Oxford Univ. Press, Oxford.
Lakatos, Imre: 1970, 'Falsification and the methodology of scientific research pro
grammes', in I. Lakatos and A. Musgrave (eds.), Criticism and the Growth of
Knowledge, Cambridge Univ. Press, Cambridge.
Laudan, Larry: 1977, Progress and Its Problems, Univ. of California Press, Berkeley.
Laudan, Larry: 1980, 'A refutation of convergent realism', forthcoming.
Leplin, Jarrett: 1980, 'The role of models in theory construction', in Nickles (1980c), pp.
267-284.
Lugg, Andrew: 1978, 'Overdetermined problems in science', Studies in History and
Philosophy of Science 9, 1-18.
Lugg, Andrew: 1979, 'Laudan and the problem-solving approach to scientific progress
and rationality', Philosophy of the Social Sciences 9, 466-474.
Matson, Wallace: 1966, 'Why isn't the mind-body problem ancient?' in P. Feyerabend
and G. Maxwell (eds.), Mind, Matter, and Method, Minnesota Univ. Press, Min
neapolis, pp. 92-102.
McMullin, Ernan: 1976, 'The fertility of theory and the unit for appraisal in science', in
R. S. Cohen et al. (eds.), Essays in Memory of Imre Lakatos, Reidel, Dordrecht, pp.
395-432.
Monk, Robert: 1980, 'Productive reasoning and the structure of scientific research', in
Nickles (1980c), pp. 337-354.
Nickles, Thomas: 1976, 'Theory generalization, problem reduction, and the unity of
science', in R. S. Cohen et al. (eds.), PSA 1974, Reidel, Dordrecht, pp. 33-75.
Nickles, Thomas: 1978, 'Scientific problems and constraints', in P. Asquith and I.
Hacking (eds.), PSA 1978, Philosophy of Science Assn., East Lansing, Michigan, pp.
134-148.
Nickles, Thomas: 1980a, 'Scientific discovery and the future of philosophy of science',
in Nickles (1980c), pp. 1-59.
Nickles, Thomas: 1980b, 'Can scientific constraints be violated rationally?', in Nickles
(1980c), pp. 285-315.
Nickles, Thomas (ed.): 1980c, Scientific Discovery, Logic, and Rationality (Proceedings
of the First Leonard Conference, Vol. I), D. Reidel, Dordrecht.
Nickles, Thomas (ed.): 1980d, Scientific Discovery: Case Studies (Proceedings of the
First Leonard Conference, Vol. II), D. Reidel, Dordrecht.
Nickles, Thomas: 1980e, 'Scientific problems: Three empiricist models', in R. Gieri and
P. Asquith (eds.), PSA 1980, Vol. 1, Philosophy of Science Assn., East Lansing,
Michigan, pp. 3-19.
Nickles, Thomas: 1981, 'Heuristic appraisal, discovery, and justification: Whither
philosophy of science?', forthcoming in the Pittsburgh Series in Philosophy of
Science, L. Laudan (ed.).
Polanyi, Michael: 1966, The Tacit Dimension, Doubleday, Garden City, New Jersey.
Popper, Karl: 1972, Objective Knowledge, Oxford Univ. Press, Oxford.
Putnam, Hilary: 1971, 'On the "corroboration of theories'", in P. A. Schilpp (ed.), The
Philosophy of Karl R. Popper, Open Court, La Salle, 111, pp. 221-240.
Putnam, Hilary: 1976, 'What is "realism"?' Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 76,
177-194. See also Meaning and the Moral Sciences, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978,
Ch. 4.
Reitman, Walter: 1964, 'Heuristic decision procedures, open constraints, and the nature
of ill defined problems' in M. W. Shelly, II and G. L. Bryan (eds.), Human Judgments
and Optimality, John Wiley, New York, pp. 282-314.
Reitman, Walter: 1965, Cognition and Thought, John Wiley, New York.
Rorty, Richard: 1979, Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, Princeton Univ. Press,
Princeton.
118 THOMAS NICKLES
Shapere, Dudley: 1969, 'Notes toward a post-positivistic interpretation of science', in P.

Achinstein and S. Barker (eds.), The Legacy of Logical Positivism, Johns Hopkins
Univ. Press, Baltimore, pp. 115-160.
Shapere, Dudley: 1980, 'The character of scientific change', in Nickles (1980c), pp.
61-116.
Simon, Herbert, Allen Newell, and J. C. Shaw (1962), 'The processes of creative
thinking,' in Simon, Models of Thought, Yale, New Haven, 1979, pp. 144-180.
Simon, Herbert: 1976, 'Discussion: The Meno paradox', Philosophy of Science 43,
147-151. Reprinted in Simon (1977), pp. 338-343.
Simon, Herbert: 1977, Models of Discovery and Other Topics in the Methods of
Science, D. Reidel, Dordrecht.
Suppe, Frederick: 1974, 'The search for philosophical understanding of scientific
theories', in Suppe (ed.), The Structure of Scientific Theories, Univ. of Illinois Press,
Urbana, pp. 3-241.
Tichy, Pavel: 1978, 'Questions, answers, and logic', American Philosophical Quarterly
15, 275-284.
Toulmin, Stephen: 1972, Human Understanding, Princeton Univ. Press, Princeton.
Wartofsky, Marx: 1980, 'Scientific judgment: Creativity and discovery in scientific
thought', in Nickles (1980d), pp. 1-20.

10 2307@20115620

Uploaded by

Document Information

Original Title

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

10 2307@20115620

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

What Is a Problem That We May Solve It?

Author(s): Thomas Nickles

WHAT IS A PROBLEM THAT WE

The analysis of problems and of problem-solving behavior con

Synthese 47 (1981) 85-118. 0039-7857/81/0471-0085 $03.40.

I. REQUIREMENTS OF AN ACCOUNT OF PROBLEMS

A. Logical and Conceptual Requirements

B. Evidence that Problems Have Conceptual Depth (see also C)

2. Many scientific problems are ill structured, and for substantive

C. Evidence that Conceptual Constraints Belong to the Problem Itself

1. Some problems are deeper than others.

puzzling. To bring out the puzzlement, I point out that erotetic

the more radical 'friends') would turn the old discovery/justificati

In my (1980e), I tested three empiricist models of scientific problems

positivists have denied that it can be fruitfully addressed. It is

Popper's richer conception of problems (or rather, problem situ

III. PROBLEMS AND THEIR SETTINGS

We must reject that part of Popper's model which identifies all

It remains, however, to answer two objections raised by Lugg

problem of explaining 'erratics', Lugg fleshes out the problem by

To my reply it will be objected anew that the historical study o

IV. LAUDANS PROBLEM-SOLVING MODEL OF INQUIRY

This section is in no sense a review of Laudan's rich and fascinating

Gutting (personal communication), I think Laudan should recog

contribution to the theory of inquiry, understood as a problem solvin

arising in the attempt to solve empirical problems. This is reflected in

to know (or to insightfully conjecture) even to pose their problems o

With reference to the four cardinal virtues of Laudan's work which I

relative problem solving effectiveness. I grant that such reasons

are thought to have been exhausted, scientific attention will turn

science by the very nature of conceptually deep problems. Given that a

V. THE CONSTRAINT-INCLUSION MODEL

What, then, are problems? My short answer is that a problem consists

some of the logical discussion suggestive, although much too form

A first approximation to the central idea is that each question is to be conceived as

hand. Interesting scientific problems are indeed unlike Belnap's tray

present within that historical body of theory and practice nonetheless.

ways), describe the problem solution? By their very function of

On the negative side, admittedly, the constraint-inclusion mode

University of Nevada, Reno

Shapere, Dudley: 1969, 'Notes toward a post-positivistic interpretation of science', in P.

You might also like