AT THIS time of year much attention is paid to the celebrities of science, thanks to the announcement of Nobel prizes next week. 

One of the most prestigious scientific organisations in the world is the Royal Society (there are 33 living members of the Royal Society with Nobels in physiology or medicine, and 18 in physics).

Around the 1640s, a group of natural philosophers, as early scientists were known, referred to their interactions as “their Invisible College.” 

The group was led by Robert Boyle, an Anglo-Irish aristocrat, early chemist and director of the East India Company, among other interests. 

The reputation of this “invisible college” has been maintained for nearly 400 years, thanks to their eventual formation of the Royal Society in 1660, ambitious to attract power, money and attention.

The establishment of the Royal Society was instrumental in the development of the scientific establishment, from its inception right through the 20th century to the globalised science we work in today.

However, despite its prestige, how its contemporary influence in British science operates remains relatively unknown.

As we’ve seen during the Covid-19 pandemic, science is often used as a shield to hide politics. In this mode the idea is promoted of science as an apolitical activity, where truth reigns supreme. Politicians used the idea of being “led by science” in order to avoid responsibility for their political decisions. 

The scientists who buy into the abuse of science in this way play a risky game. The misuse of science as an “apolitical” force in politics leads inevitably either to its identification with totalitarian authority, or simply another disingenuous strand of politics. Either route is fatal to the place of science as part of culture and society.

The reality of science is that it is intensely political, in every sense of the word. Nowhere is this clearer than in the Royal Society’s history. Its earliest days show an understanding of money and power that were key to its route to success. 

The founding of the society originated in active practitioners of science. These were men largely drawn from the demographic strata with the means to pursue science independently, and actively engaged in experimentation.

However, the society itself wanted money, so the members (“fellows”) also included “wealthy or important” non-scientists. This category made up two-thirds of the society and didn’t drop below 50 per cent for a century. 

In 1848, nearly 200 years after its inception, the prominent mathematician Augustus De Morgan publicly refused membership because of dominance in the society by aristocracy. 

In his criticism, De Morgan adapted the organisation’s motto of “take nobody’s word for it,” adding “unless he is nobility.” Wary of this reputation, changes were made. 

Now, the modern membership has a significantly reduced number of non-scientists. The current membership is 1,760 people, most of whom are academic scientists. Although it still includes five members of the royal family, politicians like David Willetts and prominent capitalists like Elon Musk and David Sainsbury.

Science and technology are today intimately linked in the minds of many. The expansion of scientific research budgets has been driven by the justification of economic growth, and the idea that science leads necessarily to application, progress and monetary gain. Given the history of the Royal Society, we see that this is nothing new.

The president of the Royal Society was originally intended to act as the government’s chief “albeit informal” adviser on science. One president has also held the formal title of chief scientific adviser (a position established in 1964), and most CSAs have been members of the organisation.

The earliest presidents of the organisation were mostly politicians and lawyers, although arguably the largest influence on its direction and mythology was the influence of Isaac Newton who was president for the last 24 years of his life. 

Although undoubtedly a scientist, Newton was also at various points an MP, a warden of the Royal Mint, and a ruthless political agent in his own right.

He used his presidency to develop and extend his own reputation as a scientist, particularly on the subject of intellectual property. He set up a committee to publish his own report “settling a dispute” on his claim to have invented calculus.

Today the Royal Society administers £42 million of government money to scientific grants, a very small amount of the total budget of the UK research councils (not just scientific research) of £7.9 billion this year.

Despite the relatively small amount of research money, grants by the Royal Society are highly prized — partly because they are known for the scientific freedom they allow to grant holders, and partly because of the prestige of association.

This is the real contemporary power of the organisation. Scientific research in Britain still relies heavily on networks of patronage and influence.

The allocation of research budgets is decided by layers of committees and a complex ecosystem of reviewers and references.

Personal academic references are heavily relied upon for the awarding of research positions. The fellows of the Royal Society occupy prominent positions across British universities, businesses and grant-awarding bodies.

Some of the most well-connected members of the organisation occupy a staggering number of powerful positions at the same time, mixing politics, budget allocation, business leadership and “scientific advice.”

This poses a major problem to the organisation. The Royal Society both manufactures and maintains prestige, by bringing already powerful people into an influential network.

It’s the attempt to accumulate power and money that produces the demographics of the membership and continues to reproduce power structures inside and outside science.

This is a common problem, but particularly embarrassing to an organisation purportedly pursuing scientific excellence. Nevertheless the attempt to accumulate power continues. 

Despite the long history of women in science, the first female member was appointed in 1945. As of 2019 just 10 per cent of its members were women.

Of the half the membership who responded to a survey to indicate their ethnicity, only 5 per cent identified as black or of a minoritised ethnicity. 

The society has been rightly criticised for the continued lack of diversity, and makes much of its current attempts to reckon with its colonial history.

Scrolling through the searchable database of members, it looks like in 2021 and 2022 some action was taken to elect younger fellows and more women.

Thanks to the open register of members, the diversity of the organisation can be monitored, and although there’s minimal evidence of it, presumably it could be changed.

Understanding how the influence of the Royal Society deeply affects the development of science is a knottier question. The creation of the Royal Society made “the invisible college” visible, but much of its power remains hidden.