Culture counts more than money: Israeli critiques of German science

Introducing the study of national culture

Each culture has a hidden code of behavior that can rarely be understood without a code breaker… Cultures are unified wholes in which everything interrelates… in the search for patterns it is vital to overlook nothing and to take nothing for granted. (Hall and Hall, 1987, pp. xvii-xix)

Many scientists hold the position that ‘science is science’, namely, that science constitutes a universal, objective, culture-free enterprise. Many even reject as blasphemy the findings of studies which expose social effects on scientific practice (Bloor, 1991). As Sismondo (2010: 13) argues, commentators on science tend to believe that it ‘is exceptionally rational, or exceptionally free of local contexts.’ The past four decades have advanced knowledge about the social contextualization of science and technology in significant ways. However, since the 1970s, STS has largely ignored the traditions of ‘culture and personality’ and ‘national character’ that focus on national cultural traditions (Yair, 2017). This may have reflected political concerns, in the social sciences more generally, over racism and negative stereotypes, as well as hopes for post-national, cosmopolitan constellations (Beck, 2001; Robins, 2005; Terracciano et al., 2005). However, because of such political commitments, the social sciences have developed a theoretical and empirical lacuna, often throwing the baby of national cultures out with the political bathwaters of racism and anti-Semitism. This disciplinary blind-spot may have been intensified by ‘internalist’ preferences of STS scholars to study in-depth micro processes in laboratory work.

The present study of cultural preferences in German science helps fill this lacuna. It does so by enlisting the rich scholarly traditions of ‘national cultures and business’, on the one hand, and the ‘national habitus’, on the other. The first tradition was heralded by scholars in international business operations, who have appreciated the role that cultures and ‘national styles’ play in international markets and transactions. The famous study of IBM by Hofstede, which brought into the open cultural differences in the corporation’s worldwide offices, opened a floodgate of kindred studies (Dwyer et al., 2005; Halffman, 2005; Hayton et al., 2002; Hofstede, 1991, 2001; Newman and Nollen, 1996). Scholars in this field focus attention on implicit and explicit national cultural differences. Some even suggest that cultural peculiarities reflect theological and civilizational roots (Hall and Hall, 1987; Nisbett, 2003; Nisbett et al., 2001). Some of those studies raise questions about the generality of science as a global, culture-free project. They show, for example, that American, Chinese and Japanese students focus attention on different objects and employ different modes of ‘logic’ (Hall and Hall, 1987; Nisbett, 2003). They also suggest that, notwithstanding cross-country collaborations, cultural idiosyncrasies may determine the norms, standards, expectations, thought processes and logic of scientists in different societies.

The second tradition emanates from Elias’s (1996) work on the German national habitus. Elias’s followers have recently displayed national and cultural peculiarities in Dutch, Austrian, British, American and Israeli mores (Kuipers, 2013; Kumar, 2006a; Kuzmics and Axtmann, 2007; Mennell, 2007; Yair, 2015a, 2015b). As these studies suggest, the ‘West’ encapsulates highly divergent traditions that require nuanced attention to national peculiarities. National cultures often reflect historical traumas that create singular worldviews and expectations – though sometimes the ‘nation’ is too broad in cultural analyses (Geertz, 2000).

I follow those two traditions by treating national cultures as having prior and determinative effects on social relations, intellectual orientations and practices, even in the realm of science. National cultures constitute an ideal resource that either enables or constrains thoughts and actions; they also set the conditions of possibility for innovation and creativity (Alexander, 2008; Alexander and Smith, 2002; Bloor, 1991; Jasanoff, 2005).

I advance this cultural interpretation of science by showing that although German and Israeli scientists work and publish together, cultural differences set them apart. As the following observations show, German culture constitutes particular priorities and habitual modes of work, particular patterns of discourse, unique documentation practices during experimentation, and specific norms regarding the timeliness of work. Clearly, Israeli scientists and their German partners notice cultural peculiarities in scientific work. In the present context I employ their observations of cultural priorities for explicating the cultural challenges for innovation and creativity in German science.

Methods

The present paper reports evidence from two interrelated studies of German and Israeli science. Both rely on sociological and anthropological insights that ‘strangers’ are able to provide unique insights about the cultural dispositions of foreign groups (Pels, 1999; Schutz, 1964; Simmel, 1950; Tiryakian, 1973). The most known case in STS is Latour’s two-year observation at the Salk Institute as an ‘inside outside observer’ (Latour and Woolgar, 1979). In a somewhat similar fashion, this study relies on ‘foreign’ Israeli observers of German science, while complementing their insights with a ‘foreign’ German perspective of Israeli science. Observations of each other’s contexts resulted from joint research projects and collaborations spanning many years. The encounter with scientific practices in a different culture helped scientists in both countries to appreciate similarities and differences across the two contexts. Their consistent reports helped to validate this study’s major results.

Study One is based on 125 in-depth interviews with a sample of senior Israeli scientists working in seven research universities. The criteria for selection required participants to have conducted a collaborative research project with German colleagues. The German-Israeli Foundation provided lists of awardees for 2010-13. I supplemented those lists by seeking participants in the Niedersachsen grant program. Both foundations mandate that awardees visit each other’s laboratory, meet students, and have hands-on joint work. Stipulations such as these allowed participants to enjoy a comparative point of view for understanding cultural particularities in the way they conduct their studies. Furthermore, a significant number of the Israeli respondents studied or taught in Germany for years. Their testimonies, therefore, bolster the reports of less engaged respondents. This method differs from participant observation in significant ways. However, the requirement to ground descriptions with concrete examples provides evidence that helps clarify cultural idiosyncrasies in scientific work. Furthermore, respondents from both countries were careful not to make generalizations or stereotypes. Hence, each provided a partial description of latent cultural priorities in German and Israeli science. The power of the conclusions rests on synthetic interpretations that identify major themes beyond respondents’ various subjective and partial observations.

The interviews lasted about an hour, were transcribed, and then were analyzed using Atlas-ti (version 7). Coding of the interviews followed the approach of grounded theory (Glaser and Strauss, 1967), meaning that I developed codes, code families, and analytic levels throughout the analysis. Of the sample, 95% work in Israel, and the rest either in German or American universities. The distribution of disciplines (reflecting grant policies) is unequal: physics leads with 14%, followed by chemistry (9%), medicine (5%), psychology (5%), neurobiology (5%) and archaeology (4%). There were 50 fields in all. Women made up 30% of the sample. Among the interviewees, there are two former university presidents, one vice-president, and deans, department chairs and laureates of various national and international prizes.

Study Two is based on a survey that Elias Khuly, a student from the Free University of Berlin conducted with nineteen German scientists who collaborated with the Israeli scientists in Study One. Although this small sample precludes a symmetrical or parallel analysis with Study One, the data did provide triangulation for cultural comparisons. The questionnaire was formulated in German, and all replies were translated into English. Respondents were located in different faculties and worked in universities and research institutes located across Germany. Analyses of the data were conducted with MAXQDA for qualitative analyses.

Study One serves as the basis for the analyses. Study Two adds complementary evidence. In terms of data analysis, both Atlas ti and MAXQDA allow analyzing ‘code co-occurrence’ (using the c-coefficient) which is similar to the quantitative Pearson correlation. Specifically, code co-occurrence describes the extent to which respondents associate different codes, or the degree to which they mention two or more codes in the same context. This analysis provides insight into respondents’ causal attributions. Furthermore, code co-occurrence analyses suggested that the four cultural priorities that scientists pointed to are orthogonal or independent (following a similar rationale as in factor analysis in quantitative studies).

Many interviewees insisted that though German and Israeli scientists share common evaluation criteria, their day-to-day working patterns differ in significant ways. Some argued that the differences are idiosyncratic or personal rather than cultural; others spoke of two distributions that somewhat diverge from each other. Furthermore, some German respondents described themselves as rather un-German, while some Israeli scientists admitted that they are German in their own habits. Consequently, the following descriptions go beyond simple or shallow stereotypes about Germany and the Germans. However, rigorous data analysis helped to identify persistent and consistent cultural syndromes and priorities, and the consistency of the reports from both Germans and Israelis adds credibility to the interpretations.

Finally, the analyses prioritize ‘radical innovation’, bold ideas’, and ‘creative thinking’, because those are the targets that Germany’s scientific elite seeks to attain. As Godin (2012) has shown, those are constructed ideals. Although constructed, innovation and creativity are institutionalized and accepted globally (Drori, 2018; Drori et al., 2003). They are also the targets that the new German government has prioritized.

Results

Respondents regarded innovation as unexpected interventions in fields of scientific practice that require most practitioners to change methods, instruments, protocols and even targets of observation. They also regarded innovation as new ways of thinking about research questions. In contrast, they defined incremental science as additions to extant knowledge – with better precision and generality, perhaps, but with few modifications in practices, models and theories. Respondents almost seemed to be summarizing Kuhn (1970) on normal and revolutionary science. Incremental science helps to revise chapters in extant books; innovative science writes new ones. Incremental science primes the cosmos; innovative science embraces chaos.

The results are detailed in five sections. With the exception of the final section, each begins with short descriptions of Israeli science by German respondents from Study Two. These short anecdotes illuminate consistent cultural differences and anchor the testimonies from Israeli scientists about German science, which, taken from Study One, form the bulk of each of the five sections. The first section provides general evaluations of the stature of German science. Respondents suggested that recent reforms (e.g. Excellence Centers and Clusters) have indeed created significant advances in German science. Nevertheless, they also suggested that German science could still improve in significant ways.

General concerns about the stature of German science provide a basis for the subsequent sections that discuss the four cultural priorities respondents identified as hindering risk-taking and innovation in German science. Cultural priorities privilege technology over meaning and insight, hierarchy over creativity, cosmos and order over the chaos of the unknown, and the German language over competitiveness in global, English-speaking outlets.

Privileging technology over meaning and insight

I have a more pragmatic, problem-oriented approach. Israeli scientists focus on big questions and seek pervasive foundation of scientific conceptualization in larger schools of thought.

I appreciate the way Israeli science works in that it is very innovative and that colleagues are very open about all questions and problems.

I found that my German colleagues – myself included – are much more concerned about an experiment than my Israeli counterparts.

(German scientists explaining cultural differences in science)

Israeli scientists often congratulated their German colleagues on their technical superiority. They reported that German laboratories offer more and better equipment, that German students are highly trained for understanding the nuts and bolts of scientific technologies, and that German scientists invest time and effort in technological development. According to a neuroscientist,

German scientists are excellent in developing scientific technologies. German scientists – even more than their American colleagues – are systematically and distinctly leading in what concerns the development of scientific technologies. Every couple of years, German scientists come up with new technologies that quickly spread around the globe.

A chemist echoed this evaluation:

German research is very orderly; they learn how to build equipment. Very systematically. This priority has advantages. Our students cannot do that. … It’s a German educational priority, an engineering-oriented education that is coupled with highly detailed focus with repeated tests. This is very important for them.

As a director in a Max Planck Institute explained, this priority reflects a German orientation towards meticulous engineering practices.

Notwithstanding those repeated positive valuations, the interviewees often remarked that they were surprised to learn that their German colleagues confuse the technical means for scientific aims. Analysis of code co-occurrence with ‘Technical Emphasis’ found Israeli scholars associating it negatively with ‘Innovation’, ‘Seeing the big picture’, ‘Creativity’, ‘Improvisation’, ‘Flexibility’, and ‘Entrepreneurship’ (the order of codes reflects the strength of the association). In contrast, respondents associated the German prioritization of technology with ‘Mechanical’, ‘Schematic’, ‘Formal’, ‘Structured’, ‘Specialized’, and ‘Accurate’ research.

In explaining those tendencies, Israeli scientists suggested that there is a causal order between the codes. They argued that instead of looking for the meaning of experiments, their German colleagues directed most of their attention to technical aspects. Rather than seeking to understand ‘the big picture’, they contended, their collaborators engaged in the rigorous and exact estimation of disparate elements, levels or objects. The infatuation with technology and accuracy, they suggested, limits imagination, thereby leading to conservative, incremental science.

Examples for those code co-occurrence associations are legion. An astrophysicist reported that he brought a new idea to his German colleague who used new technologies to test it in ways that he could not. However, ‘Creativity is not his strongest side. Far from it. But he is highly pedantic, systematic and very accurate in working. He is exceptional. … But if you have nothing but a methodology, you have nothing new to explore.’ After congratulating German progress in his area, an Israeli economist insisted that cultural preferences differentiate science in the two countries: ‘This difference is very typical in our discipline. You see German economists publishing many technical and highly accurate papers. They employ heavy-duty mathematical operations, but these papers do not spark conceptual interest.’ An archaeologist mentioned that her German compatriots are highly sophisticated in employing advanced technologies, but said it comes with a price: ‘They find it difficult to ask a new question or to associate disconnected observations.’ A physicist explained that his German colleagues have different priorities: ‘There’s a dividing line separating Israeli and German science. We first opt to see if the computation is relevant; and if it is – we shall compute it. But German scientists value the computation in itself.’ A biologist in cancer research congratulated his German partners for their ability to create complex technical screens, but lamented the relative absence of creativity and innovation: ‘They are excellent in doing those tests. But during interactions you see that they do not think creatively.’

Some interviewees were able to point toward specific educational priorities in the socialization of German doctoral students. A chemist, for example, said, ‘It is part of German culture – that building equipment is part of the doctoral project. Struggling with technological equipment is part of the story. It is their way of educating. Their education is very engineering-oriented. They go down into the tiny details and repeat technical procedures. Those are very important elements in German science.’ Interestingly, respondents always added a downside for that priority (hence the negative associations). A biochemist provided an example: ‘In Germany there is a lot of appreciation for technical skills. But it should never be too technical because you miss the larger picture.’ A chemist added that while technologies are important, ‘They have the potential to dim the ability for creative thought’, hinting that the German over-emphasis on technologies curtails innovation and creative leaps of imagination. An astrophysicist also argued that the German penchant for technology is a trained capacity that turns into a trained incapacity: ‘The students of my friends in Germany often engage in highly technical doctoral projects. They take a technology and operate it. They appreciate those technical fundamentals.’ But echoing many other respondents, he concluded by stating that this orientation leads many German students – and German research projects – ‘nowhere’. As a biblical scholar summarized, ‘They are focused on highly technical questions about periodization in the text. But at one point you reach a dead end, because you cannot provide definite answers. You have to consider those technical questions, but we always say – “OK, let’s proceed, let’s get on to understanding the meaning of it all.”’

Privileging hierarchy over creativity and serendipity

Israeli scientists are very open-ended. … they have smaller working groups and more informal contact with students.

… they maintain an informal and cooperative relationship.

Israeli scientists are direct and open. Israeli students think much less hierarchically and speak up to their superiors. This happens in Germany much more indirectly and in hiding.

I think that the hierarchy of professor-student in Israel was flatter, which I liked.

In Israel hierarchies are laughable.

(German respondents describing lack of hierarchy in Israeli science)

Israeli laboratories and advising practices are based on ‘flat’ or ‘symmetrical’ relations, like social relations in Israel more generally (Kahane, 1975). The hierarchy in German laboratories surprised Israeli scientists. Indeed, respondents frequently used the word ‘hierarchy’ to describe advising practices, lab organization, and even the right to speak or think. Respondents suggested that hierarchy helps to attain incremental scientific goals. However, it also stifles innovation and creativity.

When asked about their partners’ laboratories, Israeli scientists pointed to the German institution of the Lehrstuhl with amazement. They explained that German professors lead large and hierarchical research groups of up to 60 people. The director oversees senior and junior scientists, who in their turn oversee postdocs, doctoral students, technicians, and secretaries. The entire Lehrstuhl works under the professor’s directives in order to fulfill his or her research agenda. Interviewees described the Lehrstuhl with metaphors of ‘armies’ and ‘factories’. They commended this organizational tradition for its immense power, for its cleanliness and order. The Lehrstuhl enhances systematic progress, they said, as the entire team follows a well-planned approach with robust methodologies and a consistent vision. The Lehrstuhl arms directors to advance incremental science.

Notwithstanding its contribution to incremental science, respondents suggested that the Lehrstuhl stifles innovation. As a highly lauded Israeli physicist explained, ‘Germany succeeded to bounce back, but not to its former leadership position. Part of the problem is this Lehrstuhl structure, the big professor with many students under him.’ Indeed, while commending German laboratories for their ‘power’ and ‘order’, interviewees were often shocked by their rigid hierarchy and by the disciplined conformity that they required. Code co-occurrence analyses show that Israeli scientists negatively associated hierarchy with ‘Creativity’, ‘Independence’, ‘Originality’, ‘Intellectual Courage’, ‘Hutzpa’, and ‘Entrepreneurial Attitudes’ (listed in decreasing order of magnitude). In contrast, they positively associated hierarchy with ‘Conformity and Obedience’. Interestingly, co-occurrence analysis in the German sample in Study Two exposed similar associations. Specifically, German respondents associated Israeli low levels of hierarchy with codes like ‘Keen to vividly discuss’, ‘Innovativeness’, ‘Flexibility’, and ‘Courage’. Those results suggest that Israeli and German scientists share an understanding about the stifling effects of hierarchy on scientific innovation.

The German insistence on order and hierarchy, explained Israeli respondents, stifles innovation and curbs creativity. It silences unexpected voices and creates a top-down structure of discourse and knowledge production, limiting the space for alternative ideas and for fluid turns towards serendipity. An archaeologist who spent many years studying in Germany expressed ambivalence towards the German hierarchical tradition. On the one hand, he described advising practices with a positive tone: ‘German research is very deep, theoretical, and rigorous. There was something in the slow pace and the deep scholarship which fascinated me.’ On the other hand, he argued that, ‘German scholars tread accepted routes. There is the professor, who charts the way, and his students will follow his path. Each one would do his designated part, but no one would confront the professor. It doesn’t happen. It takes a long time for a new idea to emerge, a long time after the professor retires. It is very conservative there.’ Respondents echoed this description repeatedly, suggesting that young scientists are often ‘frozen’ on the tracks that their predecessors laid. Change and innovation, respondents suggested, are uncommon. As an astrophysicist suggested, intellectual inertia is preferred over ‘crazy ideas’: ‘Inertia in Germany is very heavy, very rooted.’

Respondents explained this intellectual inertia and conservatism by arguing that hierarchy silences alternative voices, stifles students’ initiative, and slows down problem solving. The German professors they met, they said, require conformity to their authority and demand strict obedience to protocol. As a neurobiologist said, ‘The authority that is imprinted in Germany creates crazy conformist tendencies that you see everywhere there. It is evident in academia. Automatically, the German scholar bows down in facing authority. There is a lot of respect there to authority.’

Tendencies toward conformity surprised a computer engineer who worked for years with German colleagues: ‘They create a roadmap and progress accordingly. There are no improvisations. Even if they have a new idea, they would never confront their boss.’ A geologist reported that German students fear hierarchy: ‘They sit in a seminar, and even if the lecturer speaks nonsense, they will never confront him. Hierarchy paralyzes them.’ Another archaeologist explained that in Germany the very position of a professor used to ‘create fear of death, as he could be abusive; they sometimes tyrannize and degrade students.’ A psychologist said that his colleague runs a very orderly laboratory: ‘There are clear expectations, and everybody knows their place. They stand to those expectations; otherwise they pay a price: She can simply shout at them or they would even find the door out. They are very disciplined there.’ A physicist weighed the pros and cons of hierarchy in German science and concluded, ‘In basic science the Germans are very thorough and systematic, and I like it. But in some respects, the German hierarchy curtails their imagination.’ Another physicist explained that when scientists oversee giant research groups, they do not have time to read the outcomes: ‘The Director never observed what we were doing in the lab, but he signed on the publications. He did not read the papers. He simply enjoyed our work.’ As a few others suggested, you cannot innovate if you do not really participate in experiments or share the effort of authorship.

As Foucault (1971) argues, the order of discourse – who has speaking rights and under what conditions – may silence alternative voices and optional truths. Indeed, some interviewees pointed out that the German penchant for hierarchy and authority relations is rooted in Prussian military structures. Today, however, when the pace of technological innovation speeds up, young people are, in some respects, more knowledgeable than their senior advisors, and the latter need to be open for new and fresh voices. ‘Today,’ explained a chemist, ‘knowledge transfer is bottoms-up rather than top-down, as is customary in Germany. You have to learn from your students.’ As many respondents suggested, the typical flow of knowledge in the Lehrstuhl remained tied to hierarchical customs. As a result, the span of alternative ideas is limited. As some suggested, the prioritization of hierarchy creates conservative projects that are highly accurate and disciplined but nonetheless conservative. Finally, a few interviewees pointed out that the tradition of the ‘German Professor’ that Weber described (Liska, 2005) stymies cross-institute and cross-country collaborations. Since such collaborations are crucial for the enrichment of science, the hierarchical tradition of the Lehrstuhl might be a significant obstacle for innovative research. True, respondents hint that the German hierarchical tradition is good for maintaining, deepening and improving accepted theoretical schools and research paradigms. However, this tradition limits research breakthroughs and theoretical innovations. It is the latter, argue many respondents, which really counts in modern science.

Privileging cosmos over chaos, or the fear to err

The typically German virtues of structure are perhaps less prominent in Israeli science.

I see good planning and preparation as typical of our way of working.

Occasionally, the German way of working may be more thorough and exhausting.

My way of working is very stringent, organized and structured, and my Israeli project partner was very different.

Planning was not always taken so seriously as is usual with us.

For reasons unknown to me, my Israeli partner had difficulty adhering to the work schedule.

(German scientists describing cultural differences in structure, planning and order)

As the quotes above suggest, German scientists clearly identify cultural differences between what Israelis perceive as flexibility and Germans see as difficulties with schedules, discipline and order. In a complementary manner, Israeli respondents often suggested that the dictum of Ordnung muss sein directs their colleagues’ motivations. German scholars also used this theme in describing their own cultural virtues. As Ferdi Schüth, a director at the Max Planck Institute for Coal Research in Mülheim admitted recently, ‘Clarity and transparency … appeals to the German order-loving mentality’ (Abbott, 2017). However, respondents suggested that the German emphasis of order and clarity drives scientists to avoid uncertainty. It creates a fear of making mistakes and leads to projects that focus on structure: arranging, ordering, typifying and classifying. Respondents suggested that the fear of uncertainty limits imagination to the bounds of the known cosmos. Like Schüth, they intimated that chaos – the realm of the unknown and the wellspring of creativity – frightens German scientists. Specifically, analyses of code co-occurrence revealed that Israeli scientists associate ‘Fear of Lack of Order’ with a ‘Typological mode of thought’, and ‘Fear of Risk Taking’ with ‘Obedience’, ‘Structure’, ‘Formalism’, and ‘Systematization’, and negatively with ‘Improvisation’ (which is also associated with ‘An Israeli Mode of Thought’). Interestingly, German respondents self-identified their cultural preferences with very similar adjectives or codes, namely ‘Being Organized’, ‘Hardworking’, and ‘Thorough’.

Respondents argued that the cultural penchant for order produces varying forms of fear: fear of uncertainty, fear of erring, fear of jumping to conclusions, and fear of exploring uncharted waters. The other side of fear, they explained, is formalism, or putting things in order. As an historian explained, ‘I would open a German history book, and they would have it structured by 1, 1.1, 1.2, 1.3 …. It would make me tired. Yes, it has consistency, solidity and detail, but it lacks action.’ Systematization drives away human fallibility, but it also drives out personalization. A chemist reported that his German colleague took one step at a time: ‘Everything was accurate, he never changed course. So when I suggested to combine our capabilities and create something new, he replied that he doesn’t know how to do it.’

Several respondents suspected that their colleagues’ formal practices and hierarchical structures generate or reflect latent fears. An educator working in a German research institute for five years said that hierarchy ‘generates fear, compulsion, and a sense of threat’. She explained that a German colleague told her that this fear is a typical and longstanding cultural characteristic: ‘How do you think that the Nazis started? Fear was the key.’ However, references to fear went far deeper than director–employee relations. A chemist suggested that his German colleagues are ‘afraid to risk failure’, and an economist argued that, ‘German scholarly writing is too formal and too careful.’ Similarly, a musicologist explained that her colleagues, ‘Fear to leave the positivist ground. … They fear intellectual leaps. They feel assured in the down-to-earth, in the factual, in the statistical. They were really angry at me when I offered a daring interpretation.’ A physicist echoed these descriptions: ‘They are very methodical. But they do not take big risks. In Germany you should never err.’ As an Islamic philologist reported, ‘German doctoral students need all the dictionaries; they don’t know what to do without them. They are afraid to express the words vocally. They have many blocks.’ ‘They are very cautious with grant expenses’, explained an art historian, who added, ‘I would say they even fear.’

Respondents suggested that fear is detrimental to science. Fear of erring creates conservative and cautious interpretations and privileges slow progress over intellectual leaps. Eventually, the love of order leads to compliance with pre-existing paradigms and protocols and limits the potential of scientific imagination. As a chemist concluded, ‘In basic science the Germans are very thorough and systematic. I like it. But in some manner it curtails their imagination. They are very methodical, but they do not take big risks. There is no legitimation for failure.’ Following my request for an explanation, the respondent told me how he was invited to a German conference on innovation and shared the podium with colleagues from MIT and Stanford. ‘I emphasized risk-taking and legitimation for failure as part of the Israeli “start-up nation” culture.’ (see Senor and Singer, 2009). He then added, ‘The Germans were highly interested in my argument but said that in Germany they have a different cultural emphasis.’

Some scholars took a different route and suggested that their colleagues’ fear to cross boundaries, and that their reluctance to engage in leaps of imagination reflect a cultural trauma (Alexander, 2012; Sztompka, 2000; Yair, 2015a). An archaeologist suggested that her German partners are too serious, having difficulty treating their work humorously. Without humor, she said, they cannot be original. ‘You have to totally break norms in order to laugh,’ she said, ‘but they don’t know how to do it.’ A literary scholar provided a complementary explanation, suggesting that his colleagues’ conservative orientation reflects a posttraumatic fear from the psychological extremes of the Third Reich.

German professors in the humanities have not produced an original idea as of 1945. I am deeply puzzled by that. During the Third Reich they expelled the intellectual giants, and after the war Germany became preoccupied with normalization. German philosophers and writers focus on questions of normalcy, how to be normal. They fear the depths of irrationality. Look at German monetary policies and at German politics – normalcy is the agenda. Because of its historical trauma, Germany forbids straying from structures. Every exception or deviance seems dangerous. It makes Germany very stable, but it makes things very slow there, very conservative, very heavy. This is unproductive for creativity.

Privileging publications in German over competitiveness

In Israel they measure us by acknowledging publications in peer-reviewed journals. But in Germany, after the Habilitation, they get a chair and can publish whatever they want. So they publish much more – but in outlets that we do not count in Israel. This is why I am in trouble now, because I publish with my colleagues in German outlets. I sent them a good paper that I could have published in a peer-reviewed journal and get my promotion. But they do not count those publications here.

(An Israeli humanities scholar explains the different norms regarding publications)

In his famous essay ‘Science as a Vocation’, Weber warned his readers away from the Americanization of German research (Weber, 1973). His essay, which criticizes the competitive nature of American academia, reflects a strand of anti-Americanization that persists in Germany to this day (Ceaser, 2003; Nolan, 2005). Germans do not often give direct expression to the sentiments found in their national anthem, Deutschland über alles, über alles in der Welt, which is often translated as ‘Germany, Germany above all, above all in the world’, but respondents mentioned that they identified a kind of cultural superiority among their German colleagues. Indeed, the sense that German Kultur is vastly superior than the supposedly shallow pop culture of America significantly influences German academic priorities (Kuper, 1999; Lepenies, 2006; Walker, 2001). According to respondents, this sense of German cultural superiority leads to not publishing in English and to not participating in American conferences, both of which hamper innovation.

Indicators for the prioritization of Germany and the German language appeared in various forms. For example, several respondents argued that German students prefer training in Germany, which they contrasted with the Israeli norm of studying in top American universities or undertaking postdoctoral work in the USA. Furthermore, respondents were often surprised to see the length of their colleagues’ CVs. They said that German academics publish a lot but that many of their publications were only in German. They suggested that by prioritizing the German language, German scholars insulate their work, closing it off from global English-speaking markets. In doing so, some Germans refrain from competing in the most competitive arenas, specifically English and American journals and publication houses, which limits the impact of German science. They insulate their publications and close them off from broader discussions in the academic world.

As an historian explained, his German colleagues never fully internalized the fact that by publishing in German they commit their careers to the periphery of science. With a market of over a hundred million readers of German, suggested others, some German scholars misperceive the limits of their cultural enclosure, thinking it larger than it actually is. Furthermore, by not being part of the wider circulation of English language journal articles and the attendant opportunities for external review, some publications may miss the opportunity to improve by exposing their ideas to a broader and highly relevant jury of peers. As a literary scholar working in a German research institute suggested, German academia avoids important competitive elements: ‘Everything I wrote was published here. Actually, they publish a few journals in this institute, and they ask me to publish in-house. … In Germany they mostly appreciate the number of publications; in the US, quality matters.’ An Israeli postdoc in a German research institute asked her peers why they publish their studies in German. ‘In Israel we never count publications in Hebrew, so why would they do it for German? But they saw no reason not to publish in German. They never regarded those publications as inferior or less competitive – what mattered was the fact of publishing.’

A demographer who spent a few years in a Max Planck Institute suggested that the German academic system is also rather isolated from the world of academic rankings and citations. She said, ‘They had no idea what I was speaking about when I referenced the Impact Factor of a journal or spoke about other measures of excellence. They never spoke this language. It really surprised me. I was astonished to learn that while we are driven crazy by those measures, here they never factor them in.’ ‘Once they get their professorship,’ explained an art historian, ‘they can publish in German whatever they want, so they publish way more than us – in catalogues, in edited books, in proceedings – outlets that we never count.’ A physiologist told about a very successful collaboration with German colleagues that produced a high volume of publications. In one of their latest publications, the Germans were the lead authors. ‘I felt a bit of disappointment about this piece,’ he said, ‘because it made very little progress. If we do “more of the same” we contribute to environmental pollution.’ He suspected that his German colleagues have a different academic priority, namely adding one more publication to the public sphere irrespective of its originality or contribution. This makes for incremental progress but takes time and resources away from efforts at innovation. Respondents concluded that by avoiding competitive arenas in English, German science might miss opportunities for meeting new ideas and for challenging accepted ones.

German culture, German science: Looking forward

As a director in the Max Planck Institute concluded during our conversation, ‘In the end it’s much more the intellectual capabilities and the culture that counts than how many instruments you can buy.’ The evidence presented above suggests, indeed, that ‘culture counts’. True, respondents suggested that German culture provides scientists with the predispositions for advancing knowledge. An emphasis on rigor, ordered environments, and the ability to organize and systemize knowledge support incremental and rigorous science. However, as the testimonies above also suggest, the same cultural priorities inadvertently lead to the censoring of bold ideas and inhibit creative leaps of the imagination. The cultural infatuation with technology, the embrace of hierarchy, the fear of exploring chaotic realms, and the avoidance of competitive struggles in English arenas cut short expectations that German science engage in ‘creative thinking’ leading it to entertain more ‘bold ideas’ and advance ‘daring and radical innovations’. These cultural challenges are far deeper than organizational reforms, lavish laboratories, and generous funding schemes.

True, respondents acknowledged that recent structural reforms in higher education and generous funding for research have advanced German science. However, Excellence Clusters and even the new ministerial agency for breakthrough innovations may not be enough to reorient German science towards risk-taking, creativity and innovation. German culture directs its scientists to value incremental, systematic, and orderly modes of thought. It is less conducive to risky ventures and innovation. Respondents explained that Humboldt Professorships and other generous grants and scholarships do not guarantee that research institutes and universities will encourage young German scientists to push the limits of knowledge through courageous leaps of the imagination.

If Germany seeks to advance innovative science, it should tackle the censoring effects of German culture on the spirit of innovation. It should seek ways to weaken its limiting grip over scientists’ – and their students’ – hearts and minds. And in order to change the German cultural habitus, one needs to start in kindergarten rather than wait until doctoral education. Cultural challenges are that fundamental (Kuipers, 2011; Le Hir, 2014).

Though this study focuses on German cultural priorities in the conduct of science, it also provides new insights into the comparative analyses of national cultures and the conduct of science. Clearly, the same data should be used to provide a complementary exercise for understanding the particular cultural effects of Israeli culture on Israeli science. In any case, the present study suggests that STS should provide more room for studying the effects of national cultures on how scientists work and think. Kumar (2001, 2006a, 2006b), for example, goes so far as to identify ‘the Englishness of English social theory’ and the way particular historical trajectories have affected national identities. Levine (1995) identifies ‘national traditions’ in sociological thought, and Collins (1998) does the same for national philosophical traditions. We should proceed along such lines for understanding the cultural assets that allow scientists from small countries like Switzerland, Denmark and Sweden to excel (Andrew Fazekas, 2006; Hallonsten, 2011). We should compare their cultural assets and assess their limitations while comparing them with the achievements of American, English or Chinese science. The present focus on Germany is but one example of a broader paradigmatic approach for studying the interplay between national cultures and scientific practices. As stated in the title, ‘In the end, culture counts more than how many instruments you can buy.’