Speaking truth about power

In Political Ethnography, the authors advance the claim that
ethnography is not only sufficient for examining political phenomena,
it is necessary. A critical reason for this is that ethnography allows
us to capture the story of people at the margins, relating realities
as experienced by the relatively less powerful as opposed to the
political elites. Ethnographers tend to immerse themselves in the
worlds of the excluded and underrepresented, and from that vantage
point offer a very different story from the "official" one that might
be gleaned from the documents, records, statements, etc generated from
formal institutions and their actors. It seems to me there is a
certain tendency to embrace both humility and complexity in this
approach: humility in so far as one has to acknowledge the value of
the experiences and perspectives of those individuals who are often
discredited in society (an ethnographer might take the word of the
town drunk over the town mayor), and complexity in that the
ethnographer is focused on the nuances, on the details, on the
subtleties that tell the story behind the story.

But how do these values fare in the market of ideas? Embracing such
ideals, does the ethnographer end up ceding ground to those who
arrogantly subdivide the world into simple arguments and advance those
as truth with a capital T? Allina-Pisano observes, "Because those who
study political elites often cleave to epistemologies that admit to
ontological truth, their research findings are articulated as truth
claims about the world. In contrast, the ethnographic tradition of
studying people at societies' margins, of examining the politics of
the subaltern, most comfortable embraces interpretive approaches to
knowledge." (p. 56). Consequently, do these power imbalances then get
reflected and reproduced in the academic world, where the voices of
those who study political elites are more powerful, and thus the story
of those elites prevails? Is an "epistemology that admits to
ontological truth" inconsistent with the world view that motivates an
ethnographic approach to research? Allina-Pisano says no. Wedeen, for example, tends
toward yes. What do we think?

Tool for the Purpose

Political Ethnography: What Immersion Contributes to the Study of Power introduces the reader to a world of discussion over the impacts and importance of ethnography in social sciences and –as the title suggests-, specifically the study of power and how the immersion of researcher advances our understanding of the concept. Ethnography seems to be against all the core principles of (sarcastic air quotes) scientific research. The researcher writes from a personal perspective (uses “I” in his/her work), he/she spends time and interacts with the observed groups, the conclusions are usually personal interpretations etc. Yet, ethnography, or political ethnography is still a legitimate research method. We need to answer a couple of questions to understand why we still believe in the merits of this particular tool. My discussion of the book revolves around two main themes.

Firstly, I believe we should all answer one important question before we start our research, or even our journey as a scholar/researcher. What are we trying to accomplish with our research? Are we trying to understand the world? Are we trying to find the answer to life, the universe, and everything? If that is the case, our job is easy, the answer is 42. However, if we are trying to understand the processes, if we are to speak to the real world questions, as discussed by Allinia-Pisano, we need tools that enable us to observe the real world.

Do you want to go to a tapas restaurant, or an all-you-can-eat pizza place? Well, it depends on whether I’m trying to taste different foods or I’m just trying to fill myself up. Zirakzadeh makes a very bold claim when she asks why we think we can find simple causal hypotheses that fit multiple cases while we believe it is difficult to make predictive statements about a single event due to multiplicity of the actors. We can go ahead and take a superficial look at several events (or take a small bite from every Spanish delicacy) or we can practically study one single event till we understand and interpret the social processes (or eat pizza till we puke).

Ethnographic studies are not random interactions with local people. The research is based on theoretical grounds and the belief that ethnography is the best method to answer the questions. Continuing our discussion of the merits of ethnographic studies from last week, I would like to raise the issue of generalization once again. Arias tells us how to generalize, but do we want to generalize our findings? What do we want to learn?

Secondly, as a researcher, where do we need to stand vis-à-vis our participants? I claim, the answer to this question highly depends on your understanding of “science” – therefore your conceptualization of (less sarcastic air quotes) objectivity –, and ontological assumptions. Is there a knowledge out there you can observe independent of you? If there is, your immersion in the study group might eventually degrade your findings. There is no explicit discussion on the different types of researcher participation, but based on the experiences of the authors (and the beautiful show of Undercover Boss), it is possible to generate a discussion over the concept of partiality and its impacts on objectivity. If the research starts working on the “Kill Floor”, or lives with the local people, should we stop believing his/her findings? Does immersion, or being partial, increase or decrease the credibility of the research?

I believe objectivity in social sciences cannot and should not come from being disengaged. Partiality and engagement, the willingness to engage lie in the fundamentals of social science research.

Money and Plastic Cards

I was watching this South Park episode and the reference reminded me of Searle's discussion on money and social facts - just wanted to share it with you to make a point about 'faith' (or collective consciousness)

Margaritaville
Tags: SOUTH
PARKmore...

presentations

I have not received everyone's preferences regarding presentations, so I used with what I had and made up the rest. Sometimes people got what they asked for; sometimes they got things they did not ask for but which, based on their requests, I think they will appreciate once they have read. Also, note that since we have considerably more people than presentation slots, there are three presenters for some days in order to accommodate everyone. Here's the schedule [updated as of 26 January]:

25 January (Orr): Caroline, Annie, Kate
1 February (Schatz): Efe, Annie
8 February (Writing Ethnographic Fieldnotes): Eddy, deRaismes
22 February (Abbott): Jacob, Tatiana
1 March (Wittgenstein I): Ela, deRaismes
15 March (Wittgenstein II): Sonja, Suzanne
22 March (Foucault): Namalie, Jacob
29 March (Shotter): Ela, Efe, Tatiana
5 April (Epstein): Caroline, Eddy, Sonja
19 April (Flyvbjerg): Namalie, Kate, Suzanne

What is interesting about talking about copying machines?

On the surface level, this book is a description of the actions and conversations undertaken by people who fix copying machines. A surprising topic for a book, I would suggest. What is interesting about this? What is the value of repeating the chats had over coffee between two Xerox technicians? Why would anyone want to read an extended narrative about Frank fixing a paper jam? To quote:

"After cleaning the inside of the machine, Frank puts the new photorecepter in and closes up that part of the machine. He changes the retard rolls on the paper trays, replacing the oily ones with fresh ones. He fills the fuser oil tank..." (p. 49).

..and etc, etc, etc. This is not exactly a gripping plot line, to say the least. So why spend hours, days, years, following around a bunch of technicians, documenting their every action, notating their every word, and then transcribing these observations into a 200 page book?

Because the story of the every day work of technicians who fix copy machines, and of the stories they relate about their work, tells us something much broader, deeper, and more interesting about the world, Orr asserts. As he lays out in the introduction, "Our goal is to gain an understanding of the technicians' work as they do it and as they understand it, and to use that understanding to look at the question of the relationship between work as it is done and work as it is described and prescribed" (p. 13).

Does Orr achieve this goal? What are the "understandings" that are revealed and what insights do they offer into "work" beyond that which is described in the book? There are a number of threads of broader themes that are woven within the narratives of technicians' actions and speech and throughout the book: the purpose and function of storytelling as part of the technician's job; the "triangular" relationship between technician, customer, and machine; the vertical and horizontal hierarchies of power that determine who attends to what task; the struggle for control and understanding when people and technology can defy both, etc. What do these observations reveal about "work" more generally in the modern world?

To try to draw in a little of Searle, it is also interesting to reflect on the idea of "work" as an "institutional fact." In a number of sections (p. 8, p.148) Orr puts forth an idea of "work" in the modern age beyond the brute fact of someone doing some task. Work as "situated practice" has a social context, a meaning attached to identities, nestled within a complex system of human interactions. How does Orr's narrative contribute to the constitution of "work" as an institutional fact? How do his observations of the work of technicians shape the parameters of this idea of "work"?

Narratives and “I statements"

Compared to other research work that we have read in the past year, a striking feature of this book was Orr’s willingness to use the first person in his writing. For myself, I can say that from the time I was first taught to write formally, I was explicitly told never to use “I” in formal writing – even writing this sentence feels strangely uncomfortable.

However, since Orr’s focus is on the narratives that the technicians use to describe themselves, their work, and their machines, he is forced to take “I statements” seriously –including his own. Rather than standing apart from the subjects of his research, as an objective third party observer, he attempts to integrate himself into his own narrative account of his interactions with these technicians (for example in Chapter 2’s vignettes).

So what is the relationship of the narrative to “social science”? There are a couple levels of this dynamic that are brought out in the book.

1.) On the most basic level, taking non-academics’ narratives seriously, allows for new voices and realities to be heard and portrayed. The “objective” researcher’s willingness to engage with the “subjects” of the study breaks down the idea of the scientist being able to observe the social world from afar, without participating in it. Orr explicitly differentiates himself from this more traditional (dare I say neo-positivist?) idea of social science by relating a technicians’ story of his interaction with a researcher who pretended he could maintain objectivity:

“Frank was delighted that I had been to school on this copier. He had been observed by an earlier visitor doing a time and motion study who refused to speak to him at all. Frank had wondered how the observer could write down what Frank was doing if he knew nothing about the job” (60).

Clearly, the fact that the researcher refused to talk to the technician not only (a) did not make him any less of a participant in the process we was trying to study “objectively”, and (b) greatly hindered his ability to draw any meaningful conclusions about what he was observing. On this level, I see a great deal of value in Orr’s work.

2.) But there is a second level of the narrative that also must be considered: the researcher’s own narrative. It is one thing to come to understand that your ethnographic study participants are communicating their own narratives, but it is quite another to turn their narratives into your own – to turn their day-to-day realities into your “research.”

It was at this level that I began to feel a bit dubious about the conclusions that Orr reached. Orr says his goal is to “examine practice” (10) and to analyze the Weberian “webs of significance” (12) in the cultural world of the technicians.

But on what basis does he then become qualified to infer what the “real” meanings of their narratives are, beyond what the participants themselves claim them to be? A couple examples of this are his description of a “social contract” between customers and technicians in Chapter 5, and his conclusion that most of their stories reflect the issues of “fragility of understanding and the fragility of control” (144). How does Orr become qualified to draw these distinctions? How do we judge the legitimacy of these conclusions? At what point can an ethnographer who pretends complete subjectivity suddenly remove themselves and write objectively?

Nevertheless, I (!) would like to note that I found some of his conclusions profoundly significant, especially as they might speak to policy questions surrounding modern work. Although it is not the technicians addressing these questions directly, perhaps we have to take Orr’s word on his conclusions as the next closest thing we can get to some ideal-type dialogue or understanding.

Most notably, Orr’s conclusion’s that technicians’ narratives actually constitute part of their work is revealing: “Stories are more than a celebration of practice; they are an essential part of the practice to be celebrated” (143). The importance of the ethnographic engagement is also made apparent as he describes how “attitude towards war stories varies directly with distance from the field” (140). The technicians find them critical, their immediate managers see their limited instructional value, those promoted out of the field see them as political jockeying for reputation, and top managers see them as a waste of working time.

Why Ethnography, Julian Orr?

Why does Julian Orr decide use ethnography to answer his question about the role of work practice in technician-industry relations and technician identity? In Orr’s Talking about Machines: An Ethnography of a Modern Job (1996), we see an example of ethnography from social anthropology. Clearly, “Orr chose ethnography because he is an anthropologist” is not a sufficient answer. Students seeking the implications of research questions and philosophical-methodological approaches for appropriate research methods deserve a more in-depth response.

(1) I would like to uncover the origins of Orr’s decision to use ethnography. I say uncover, because at no point is Orr explicit about this decision.

(2) Orr’s narrative only offers implicit justification for ethnography, so I propose additional justifications as an exercise in deciding to pursue ethnography.

Orr comes at his study through the literature on changing modes of production and the “problematic” (152) impact on workers. He agrees with the intent of the literature on how relations between workers, corporations and the production system relate to changing worker identities. Alienation of workers has profound social affects, most importantly on worker identities. As workers become “de-skilled” (150), “occupational communities” (151) of workers become more important. However, Orr attests that many related studies ignore an important component, the idea that “work practice” can also impact worker identity. Informed by his own work as a technician, he observes the lives of copy machine service technicians as a participant. Short of justifying his decision to conduct ethnography, Orr “considers” the day-to-day of industrial technicians to be a “rewarding subject for ethnographies of work” (152).

Luckily, Orr’s findings support the research that he was trying to build on. However, although ethnography is a reward in and of itself, there are other factors implicitly driving Orr’s methodological choice. After reading John Searle’s Constructing Social Reality (1995), I cannot help but note the layers of contextual meaning hidden in the technicians’ work lives. Four key words from his study offer clues—practice, control, stories, and identity. For example, to understand a practice it must be observed. My telling you what my work entails is different than you observing my work and interpreting it based on your research criteria. Second, Orr’s technicians had limited control over their environment. How the technicians negotiated externally imposed reality, such as the corporation’s service documentation, requires adaptation, resistance or blind acceptance, depending on the context. Third, through their war stories the technician’s created both community as well as an undocumented pool of knowledge as a foundation for their skill development. Finally, since part of Orr’s research goal was to understand technician identity, it makes sense to observe the technicians in context (the C in Searle’s “X counts as Y in C”).

For these reasons ethnography is an appropriate method for Orr’s study of relationships and identity; it gives contextual answers, allows patterns of work practice to emerge from technician behavior over time, and exposes the researcher to internally created realities (stories) and external realities (customers/corporation/machines) to give a holistic picture.

Disclaimer: The trick with reverse-engineering an argument for the use of a method after the research is finished is that it is difficult to know how much one is influenced by the research findings. Nevertheless, I hope this process is useful in getting us to think about the amount of (worthwhile) effort needed to design a study based on solid methodological foundations.

Implications of Searle for Studying Norms--A Rebuttal to Prof. Jackson

[Disclaimer: For anyone out there on the Internet who is reading this blog, please understand that this blog is for the free exchange of and experimentation with ideas for educational purposes in a graduate course. I reserve the right to be persuaded by my peers, professors, or experiences to change my mind. --Suzanne Ghais]

1. My essential argument--in my own terminology first--is that norms are sufficiently separate from the observer that it is valid to make claims about norms, their diffusion or evolution or retrenchment, and their impacts on social and political behavior. It is also possible to evaluate such claims against the reality that is out there. Granted, once one has made the claim in writing or speaking that a norm exists, one has indeed participated in diffusing and buttressing that norm, in the same way that if a high schooler says to a new classmate, “You know, everyone smokes pot here,” he is spreading a norm that it is normal and acceptable to smoke pot in that community. However, this does not change the fact that the norm exists out there, independent of the observer, prior to the claim being made. The researcher can stand apart from the social phenomenon being researched, for a moment at least, and study it in all its observer-independent glory. As that researcher is reading articles, making notes, and drafting a paper or presentation, she is not changing anything out there (although she might if she does interviews, conducts site visits, or otherwise interacts with the subjects of study). Once that paper is read by anyone else or that presentation is heard by an audience, the wall of separation between researcher and subject crumbles. Prior to that, however, the “dualistic” relationship (using Prof. Jackson’s term from Syllabus, p. 2) of observer to observed holds true.

2. Prof. Jackson’s argument assumes, first, that Searle’s basic argument is correct. I am inclined to agree with this starting point. Searle's central argument is that even though there are phenomena out there that are independent of the observer, when it comes to social facts, and specifically the sub-class of these called institutional facts (such as money, marriage, or government), they exist only by virtue of collective agreement. This is a profound and, as Searle says, “terrifying” point (p. __--urghhh, can’t find the page number. Anyone?), though I also find it exciting. On the one hand (the terrifying side), if somehow a collective agreement emerges that U.S. paper money is worthless, or worse, that the phantom money in my bank account or IRA is worthless, then I’m poorer--maybe a lot poorer. On the other hand (the exciting side), Gandhi’s successful, nonviolent campaign to end British colonialism in India depended on his forging collective agreement among Indians that the British were simply not their rulers--the Indians did not need to comply with their laws or requirements. He used the ephemeral, consensus-dependent nature of institutional facts in order to attain independence for Indian people without violence (if this interests you please read Jonathan Schell’s The Unconquerable World: Power, Nonviolence, and the Will of the People, 2004). Back to Searle, while I quibble with some finer points like the existence of collective intentionality (pp. 23-26), this nonetheless leaves his basic argument intact (we can substitute “broad agreement” or “consensus,” which is an aggregation of individual intentions and beliefs, without damage to his basic thesis). So, Prof. PTJ and I agree on the starting point.

3. My reading of Searle indicates he would agree with my argument about norms. He writes on the “Logical Priority of Brute Facts over Institutional Facts”: “there are no institutional facts without brute facts….Institutional facts exist, so to speak, on top of brute physical facts. Often the brute facts will not be manifested as physical objects but as sounds coming out of peoples’ mouths or as marks on paper--or even thoughts in their heads” (pp. 34-35, emphasis added). Similarly, in his discussion of epistemically and ontologically subjective and objective phenomena, he notes that “we can make epistemically objective statements about entities that are ontologically subjective. For example, … the statement ‘I now have a pain in my lower back’ reports an epistemically objective fact in the sense that it is made true by the existence of an actual fact that is not dependent on any stance, attitudes, or opinions of observers. However, the phenomenon itself, the actual pain, has a subjective mode of existence” (pp. 8-9). (Note that while I appreciate Prof. PTJ’s attempt to clarify these concepts, he confused me further… I went back to Searle and just focused on Searle’s definitions.) In other words, even if a phenomenon is ontologically subjective--like pain or norms--one can still make epistemically objective statements about them, meaning “the facts in the world that make them true or false are independent of anybody’s attitudes or feelings about them” (p. 8). Therefore, one can make epistemically objective statements about norms, the truth of which can be judged independent of the people making the judgements about the norms.

4. Here is specifically where I disagree with Prof. PTJ. He writes, in paragraph c: “But when we are talking about ontologically dependent objects and states of affairs -- interactive kinds [Searle’s “ontologically subjective” --SG]-- personal statements might still be opinions, but impersonal statements [Searle’s “epistemically objective” --SG] cannot be approximations to brute facts because there aren't any brute facts involved at the appropriate level of abstraction.” I am arguing that in fact there are brute facts involved, and I also argue that Searle would agree.

5. The brute facts of norms fall into three categories: (1) beliefs about what is right and wrong, acceptable and unacceptable; (2) behaviors that tend to comply with the norms--though there may be much non-complying behavior; and, perhaps most importantly, (3) reactions or self-explanations when norms have been violated. An example of this third category (drawn from Mark Zacher, “The Territorial Integrity Norm: International Boundaries and the Use of Force,” International Organization, Vol. 55, No. 2 [Spring, 2001], pp. 215-250) is UN Resolution 242 declaring Israel’s occupation of the West Bank and other territory captured during the 1967 war illegitimate. In contrast, Israel’s earlier territorial acquisitions gained through its war of 1948--critically, before the norm of territorial integrity had made much headway--was never challenged by the international community. The point is that it is indeed possible to uncover the brute facts underlying norms through direct observation or by inference from direct observation. One can infer beliefs from what people post on signs during a street protest or what UN resolutions they support; one can directly observe whether behavior is norm-conforming, and one can directly observe the reactions to norm-violating behavior. All this can be done without shaping or constituting the norm in question.

6. I therefore disagree with Prof. PTJ’s conclusion that “claiming the existence of a norm is an observer-relative operation” or that “all we have is a collective intentionality in which we as social observers participate just as the other participants do.” (paragraph 2) or that “we cannot study norms the way that we might study ontologically independent, mind-independent features of the world. Instead, we necessarily participate in the process by which norms are formed and reformed even as we study those norms.” I conclude instead that norms are observer-independent and that we can study them the way we might study ontologically independent features of the world. While it is true that publishing or announcing one’s findings about norms contributes to shaping them, they nonetheless exist prior to their being studied, named, or described.

And now for something completely different: the Background

I’m wondering if we could open up a discussion about something we haven’t looked at much yet – namely the idea of the “background.” I liked the idea in a broad sense – in so far as it draws attention to the thick layers of meaning that we all share when we communicate, which go beyond the “under-determined” information actually contained in the literal words and grammar of a sentence: The example that he gives is that the sentence “She give him her key and he opened the door,” does not specify that he opened the door with that same key, or that she gave him the key before he opened the door, or any other logical assumptions we might draw about the context (131). The background structures our consciousness and gives us an idea of what to expect from the world.

However, he then goes on to try to use the background to show how people might follow the rules without being conscious of the rules, thus allowing them to participate in the creation of institutional facts without meaning to. The example he gives is of the tribe that is raised playing baseball, and therefore follows the rules without knowing them, much like we follow the rules of grammar without realizing it. His conclusion is that “in many cases it is just wrong to assume … that our behavior matches the structure of the rules because we are unconsciously following the rules. Rather we evolve a set of dispositions that are sensitive to the rule structure” (145).

My question is: how does this matter? I see two possible options –

1.) People do in fact have a separate level of consciousness – sure, call it a “background” – in which they are able to internalize what others can only understand as rules. But what does this add if we know nothing about it? It then just becomes an “error” term – a catch-all for anything we can’t yet explain, which does nothing to advance our understanding of it.

2.) There is no separate level of “background” consciousness. All we have is a subconscious level at which we process institutional rules so quickly we don’t even think about it. Then the difference between the background and any other types of rule starts to look artificial. What is a “rule” if not just something that we have a “disposition” to follow (as in the quote from p.145)?

I’m inclined towards the second understanding, as we can often come up with the rule that we are using if we are forced to think about it.

For example, a quiz: most native English speakers would never think about, but always distinguish correctly between the words “watch” and “look at." However, we can generally also come up with the rule if pushed to do so...

The norms argument in a nutshell [edited]

[After posting this it occurred to me that a clarification of Searle's terminology regarding objective and subjective would help to clarify the argument, so I have updated the post accordingly by inserting point 0 and its associated sub-points, and modified the rest of the post to reflect that tweaked terminology.]

To flesh out a bit my comment near the end of class today:

0) Searle's distinctions between ontologically and epistemically "objective" and "subjective" are, I think, somewhat misleading, inasmuch as the meaning of the terms shifts subtly between the ontological and epistemic registers. So let me propose the following amendments by way of clarification:

a) ontologically speaking, what Searle means by "objective" and "subjective" is whether the object or state of affairs in question exists independent of human social action, or is dependent on human social action. (To use Ian Hacking's helpful terminology here for a second, the distinction is between indifferent kinds -- indifferent to how they are labelled or discussed -- and interactive kinds, kinds of things where how they are labelled matters. Asteroids and stars are indifferent kinds, since it doesn't matter to them how we classify them; refugees and civilians and state officials are interactive kinds, because all the important work is done in the labeling.)

b) epistemically speaking, what Searle means by "objective" and "subjective" is whether the truth of the statement in question can be ascertained impersonally, or whether the truth-value of the statement depends on the personal characteristics of the speaker and/or listener. Personal statements have a lot of room for individual variation, and are ultimately expressions of individual whim or taste or discretion; impersonal statements have truth-conditions that are something other than pure functions of the individual involved, and so at the very least members of a community can reason their way to a compelling consensus about them.

c) these distinctions can be combined, but the combinations have different implications. When we are talking about ontologically independent objects and states of affairs (indifferent kinds), personal statements are most likely opinions about something while impersonal statements are some kind of best approximation to the brute facts involved -- with "best" in this circumstance being relative to local cultural and historical conditions, and potentially able to be superseded in the future. But when we are talking abut ontologically dependent objects and states of affairs -- interactive kinds -- personal statements might still be opinions, but impersonal statements cannot be approximations to brute facts because there aren't any brute facts involved at the appropriate level of abstraction. The statement "this person is a refugee" can't simply mirror an ontologically independent state of affairs because 1) being a refugee is like being a screwdriver in that both are assigned statuses dependent on intentional social action, and 2) under certain circumstances the statement might be performative, actually making the person in question a refugee. So the most we get with impersonal statements about ontologically dependent objects and state of affairs is community consensus, not approximation to a mind-independent external reality.

1) in Searle's lexicon, norms are social facts, hence ontologically dependent. (Note that patterns of behavior might not be ontologically dependent in Searle's sense, but a norm -- which carries with it some sense of appropriate expectations -- cannot be thought of as the kind of thing that would exist in the absence of human beings.)

2) thus, claiming the existence of a norm is an observer-relative operation. Even though we might be able to make epistemically impersonal statements about the existence of a norm, such statements would necessarily depend on our prior commitment to a particular account of norms and normativity in general and the shape of this norm in particular. There is no ontologically independent character to a social fact (or, perhaps, the ontologically independent brute fact on which the social fact supervenes is so far down the chain that the social fact simply can't be derived from it), so all we have is a collective intentionality in which we as social observers participate just as the other participants do.

3) and hence, we cannot study norms the way that we might study ontologically independent, mind-independent features of the world. Instead, we necessarily participate in the process by which norms are formed and reformed even as we study those norms. Unlike with our espresso example from in class, there is no relevant and identifiable brute-factual core to claims about norms -- which doesn't make norms any less real than, say, money, but it does make claims about norms something quite different than claims about, say, the chemical composition of the coffee bean.

4) all of this is true of any social and institutional fact -- which covers most of what we as social scientists are interested in.

All five of these points are contestable; I toss them out as a basis for subsequent discussion and conversation.

Searle's two books, or the brute facticity of a screwdriver

Lots going on in Searle's book, of course, but by way of opening up our discussion on Tuesday let me make two points which I'll elaborate in class (and in part my elaboration will be fueled by whatever comments get posted before class begins, so feel free to react before class):

1) Searle maintains that his account of social reality, which is centrally concerned with the importance of intentional social action and the intensional (note the very VERY important distinction between intentional-with-a-t and intensional-with-an-s here; for details see he footnote on p. 18) character of functional attributions, makes no sense without a notion of brute facts underlying the various actions and procedures that make up the invisible ontology of the social world. The discussion of the screwdrivers on pp. 9-12 is important here, since Searle uses this discussion to conclude that "intrinsic features of reality are those that exist independently of all mental states, except for mental states themselves." The screwdriver's being-a-screwdriver is observer-relative, but the screwdriver also has intrinsic properties that do not add up to its being a screwdriver -- since that status depends on intentional social action, whether deliberate or not.

The question is: do we need both of these points? For the study of the social world, in which functional attributions are intensional-with-an-s and in which intentional-with-a-t social action produces and reproduces the apparent solidity and stability of social facts, do we need brute facts at all? Searle maintains that social facts are both ontologically subjective and epistemically objective; does that argument depend on accepting the brute fact/social fact distinction and interdependency, or is it logically separate?

2) provisionally accepting Searle's account of social facts as inextricably intertwined with intentional social action (and, parenthetically, <i>ongoing</i> social action -- there does not seem to be any "tipping point" in Searle beyond which a social fact takes on a solid and self-sustaining life of its own), how should we study the social world? Searle's account of brute facts is clearly and unequivocally dualist, separating mind from world and seeking the truth-value of statements in the procedure of disquotation (see pp. 201ff for an elaboration). But given the observer-relative character of social facts, how do we go about studying them meaningfully? Does it matter that all of Searle's examples in chapters 7-9 of the book are about brute facts rather than social facts?

Vocations and methodology

As I suggested at the end of class today, I do think that there's a connection between Weber's scientific vocation and the issues of methodology we'll be considering for the rest of the semester. Simply put, the only people who care all that much about methodological issues (with "methodology" here defined as the logic of inquiry, the rationale for using particular data-collection and data-analysis techniques, and the philosophical assumptions contained therein) are those with science as a vocation, since to others (perhaps especially those with politics as a vocation) issues of research design and epistemic status are somewhat beside the point. but for those with science as a vocation, these issues are necessarily central to any piece of research and any knowledge-claim, as they speak directly to the question of what it means to know anything about the world.

Of course, if Weber is incorrect in his sharp delineation between science and politics, then maybe there are modes of politics for which methodological issues are significant. I would side with Weber and argue that the animating value of political action is efficacy, and that therefore concern with methodology would have to be secondary in any politician's mind; whether a claim is valid is considerably less important, politically speaking, than whether it works. And "works" in this context means "produces the desired effect." Sometimes -- often? -- that might require ignoring questions of consistency and coherence.

But that leaves a question: what use, if any, is social science to politics if politicians routinely, and by vocation, are unconcerned with what social scientists are concerned with? is the logical implication of Weber's distinction that social scientists should have nothing to do with politics and with politicians? And similarly, should politicians just ignore social science?