This is something I wrote to help me work through 'Archeology and Knowledge' by Michel Foucault. I think this is sort of what Foucault is after.
AS
****
Think of the concept of charity, its purpose, and how it operates in society. In the case of charity, it seems as though the problem in society is that the poor should be helped.
But this is not actually the problem but a masking of the problem. The true issue is that we’ve built a system which requires having ‘those with’ and ‘those without.’ So the problem of charity is actually not the visible issue (those in need) but the invisible issue (the set of circumstances which created a class of people in need). So, this is the first thing that Foucault is going to argue: that if we spend our time focusing on a solution-based approach to issues that we see, it blinds us to the fact that that things are only an issue because we are not examining the circumstances which allowed them to become issues in the first place.
Foucault’s second concern is that the system perpetuates this sort of problem/solution model by masking the circumstances which allow the issue (those I need) to come into being.
The first thing we do is ask “how might we solve this problem?” Very well-meaning and loving from all parts of the system spend an enormous amount of time trying to boost charity in society as a ‘solution’ to the problem of those in need. This seems logical. And their thinking goes something like this: if we transfer enough capital between classes then the system itself will eventually even out.
But actually the system won’t even out. In fact, the system can’t even out because that’s not how it was designed. Capitalism is a system which relies upon a sort of self-serving accumulation of resources for its existence, so it in fact requires the robbing of the poor to feed the rich. For example, we not told in school that there a point where we will have enough money and we should just stop accumulating capital. No, in fact if everyone did this it would undermine our economy. We are told that we should accumulate capital in our 401Ks for ever and ever and ever. The situation is this: in order to be good Americans and good people, we should accumulate as much capital as possible.
And yet there's this nagging problem: in order for the system to function, we need an oppressed class. It is also clear that people have a heart for those in need, and this is where the very sinister thing happens. We forgo the question of circumstances (“why might we have a system which requires two classes of people: those with and those without”) and focus instead on the issue which only exists within the set of circumstances we uncritically accept (“people in need”). In other words, we try to find a solution to this problem which is only a problem because we live in a set of circumstances which allows it to be a problem. This is where charity comes in.
The system certainly doesn’t want to change and most people in the system truly don’t want it to change because they are benefiting from it. Even the people donating to charity don't REALLY want the system to change, otherwise they wouldn't have money to donate to charity in the first place. They want to donate to feel as though they have done their part without actually changing the circumstances of the system.
The result? Charity exists as the cultural pressure valve which allows the problem of oppression to continue. Without charity we might actually have to hold ourselves accountable to the problem of oppression. But here's the trick: instead, charity allows us a way to keep our hands clean morally, while being the beneficiaries of a system of oppression. In a sense, charity allows us to launder our morals.
Here is how the trick works. We focus purely on the problem of ‘people in need' and say: “If we put a system of charity in place then all people will have the ability to move between classes.” Now it appears as though even though we live in a oppressive class system, people now have the option of situating themselves anywhere in the socio-economic class system they want. Charity becomes our justification of the system: anyone can be anywhere they want in the system because funds are available.
Now it is not a problem of the system creating those in need and, in fact, it is not even a problem of those in need not having access. Now the problem is that those in need ‘just aren’t trying hard enough’ – never mind the fact that the system requires the perpetuation of a lower class, never mind the fact that that the problem is not exclusively economic, never mind the fact that the money given to ‘charity’ isn’t even a fraction of what it would take to even out capital in the system.
So, here is when the mildly dangerous becomes evil. All of a sudden it looks as though (because a system of charity is in place) that it’s now the poor person’s fault for being poor. Even more sinister is that the rich (particularly the very rich) look like heroes for their charity work. Bill Gates is now a hero for donating tens of millions of dollars to charity - never mind the system which allowed him to accumulate unspeakable resources from the poor). And we all go to bed at night and sleep quite soundly because we donated to Goodwill or our church - never mind the fact that we are all beneficiaries of a system which robs from the poor to give to the rich. How do you think we got the money to donate in the first place? We certainly didn’t get it from charity.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Sunday, September 27, 2009
scholarship and society
Reflection from this week. Primary question: do the liberal arts, humanities and social sciences have an obligation to society? I think so. Most don't.
We're reading Denzin and Lincoln's "The Landscape of Qualitative Research."
***
Being young and naive, I had never encountered ‘action research’ until this week’s reading. The concept, for me, was valuable on two levels. First, anecdotally, it was valuable to see how deeply social science researchers had interacted with many important theoretical elements emanating out of the liberal arts and humanities. The second is that it raised a question which is and will continue to be critically important to my own work, which is the question of what obligation the academic community has to the public. It seems that the primary call of the action researcher is to use her/his work to actual serve some public good or contribute to society in some way.
While I don’t consider myself a pragmatist, I am committed to the idea that the academy has an ethical obligation to contributing to society-at-large rooted, if for no other reason, in the fact that society-at-large creates the space (through funding, land grants, tuition, etc…) in which scholarship happens. Yet, my experience leads me to believe that this very basic relationship between society and the academy is either not understood or fundamentally ignored in most of the liberal arts, humanities and social sciences. I will return to this point shortly.
Chapter seven (the essay discussing the role of the IRB and research standards) raised a question we have discussed on several occasions and will continue to discuss this semester, which is show particular discourses and disciplinary methods gain authority over others. In the case of chapter seven, the question was how the modern, empirical, categorical, colonial discourse (what I will call the Modern mode) has the authority over the “Post” mode, which emanates out of the liberal arts and humanities and has been taken up by qualitative social science researchers.
In my experience, there is a fundamental tension that exists between, on the one hand, those who pride themselves on the proliferation of ‘post’ theories which have allowed us to ‘overcome’ the naivety present in the Modern mode and, on the other hand, the fact that very few people outside the humanities, liberal arts and some social sciences seem to have noticed the insights emanating out of these programs.
In other words, I think it would be fair to say that most of society-at-large continues to operate as if the Modern mode is simply ‘life in general.’ I also think it would be fair to say that most of the university community outside the liberal arts (up to and including university administration and the more vocational schools – business, medicine, law) also seems to have little understanding of (or use for) the “Post” mode.
This begs the question of how, if the insights of the “Post” mode are so valuable, this can be the case.
I’d like to make a case that these two states of affairs - (a) the valuing of the Modern mode over the “Post” mode and (b) the lack of scholarly commitment to society-at-large by the humanities, liberals and most social sciences – are fundamentally interrelated. In addition, I believe the call of action research is a call which should be taken up (perhaps becoming a ‘turn’?) across the liberal arts and humanities if they wish to remain viable in the future.
In the chapter on the IRB, Lincoln makes a case that we currently face a state of affairs where ‘hard’ sciences and neoconservative agendas dominate the overarching discourse of the academy. The question, for me, comes back to who has agency in this situation.
Lincoln seems to locate the primary agency for this state with the ‘hard’ scientists themselves as well as with public governmental agencies – neither of which understand the most recent happenings in qualitative methods. In other words, if they would just come around to what’s happening with action research, then we could solve this little issue. I have heard the same case made in different ways from friends across the liberal arts (i.e. “If the administration would just see the value we add, and then we’d get more money and be taken more seriously.”)
I disagree with this claim. While I do think that the ‘hard’ sciences and governmental agencies should be more receptive to competing methods, it seems to me that the burden of explanation and education falls squarely on the shoulders of those who have constructed alternative paradigms.
In fairness, Lincoln does argue that action researchers should do a better job of educating IRB members, but I don’t think she goes far enough. This question, I believe, is much broader than simply educating IRB members – it is a question of who controls the public discourse, since the public discourse has a direct and immediate impact on the funding and administration of the university.
It is no secret that to impact a discourse the first step is to participate in that discourse. Further, it is also no secret that the liberal arts and humanities, for the most part, see little obligation to participate in the public discourse, aside from simply critiquing it and writing up those critiques in journals which are only disseminated to other scholars in the liberal arts and humanities. In fact, I would argue that participating in the public discourse – to direct one’s research toward actual, social problems and to be vocal the public sphere – is often seen as a sort of ‘softening’ of intellectual standards for scholars in the liberal arts, humanities and most social sciences. An example of this would be Cornell West who was fired by Harvard for not spending enough time conducting ‘scholarly research’ while spending the majority of his time focusing on the public.
Part of the danger of this stance, which eschews engagement with the public discourse, is that the public and its structures of authority – which almost always have oversight over the universities in which we operate - see no value in what we do. How could they? We have chosen to systematically remove ourselves from the public discourse.
Therefore, the proliferation of and authority gained by the ‘hard’ sciences is really no surprise, since they, for the most part, have a direct relationship to society-at-large. It is because of this relationship that the sciences have the gained the authority and have the privilege that they do.
To be fair, the ‘hard’ sciences are engaged in work which is much more easily commodified than the social sciences and liberal arts. But does the fact, in itself, relieve us from the burden of making a societal contribution? I’m not convinced that it does. I also think that if the ‘Post’ mode was more active and vibrant in society, the public discourse would not be so easily swayed by the Modern mode. But since there is no vocal alternative, what choice is the public given?
I suppose the case I am making is, quite simply, that most of the humanities and liberal arts seem to be operating under an assumption that their internal discourse that will eventually ‘trickle down’ to the larger public discourse. Meanwhile, the incredibly meaningful insights made in the “Post” mode are nullified by the lack of direct, outward engagement by scholars in these fields. I believe this is the call and critique of action research and my great hope is that it will be taken up into an ‘action turn’ across all the liberal arts, humanities and social sciences.
We're reading Denzin and Lincoln's "The Landscape of Qualitative Research."
***
Being young and naive, I had never encountered ‘action research’ until this week’s reading. The concept, for me, was valuable on two levels. First, anecdotally, it was valuable to see how deeply social science researchers had interacted with many important theoretical elements emanating out of the liberal arts and humanities. The second is that it raised a question which is and will continue to be critically important to my own work, which is the question of what obligation the academic community has to the public. It seems that the primary call of the action researcher is to use her/his work to actual serve some public good or contribute to society in some way.
While I don’t consider myself a pragmatist, I am committed to the idea that the academy has an ethical obligation to contributing to society-at-large rooted, if for no other reason, in the fact that society-at-large creates the space (through funding, land grants, tuition, etc…) in which scholarship happens. Yet, my experience leads me to believe that this very basic relationship between society and the academy is either not understood or fundamentally ignored in most of the liberal arts, humanities and social sciences. I will return to this point shortly.
Chapter seven (the essay discussing the role of the IRB and research standards) raised a question we have discussed on several occasions and will continue to discuss this semester, which is show particular discourses and disciplinary methods gain authority over others. In the case of chapter seven, the question was how the modern, empirical, categorical, colonial discourse (what I will call the Modern mode) has the authority over the “Post” mode, which emanates out of the liberal arts and humanities and has been taken up by qualitative social science researchers.
In my experience, there is a fundamental tension that exists between, on the one hand, those who pride themselves on the proliferation of ‘post’ theories which have allowed us to ‘overcome’ the naivety present in the Modern mode and, on the other hand, the fact that very few people outside the humanities, liberal arts and some social sciences seem to have noticed the insights emanating out of these programs.
In other words, I think it would be fair to say that most of society-at-large continues to operate as if the Modern mode is simply ‘life in general.’ I also think it would be fair to say that most of the university community outside the liberal arts (up to and including university administration and the more vocational schools – business, medicine, law) also seems to have little understanding of (or use for) the “Post” mode.
This begs the question of how, if the insights of the “Post” mode are so valuable, this can be the case.
I’d like to make a case that these two states of affairs - (a) the valuing of the Modern mode over the “Post” mode and (b) the lack of scholarly commitment to society-at-large by the humanities, liberals and most social sciences – are fundamentally interrelated. In addition, I believe the call of action research is a call which should be taken up (perhaps becoming a ‘turn’?) across the liberal arts and humanities if they wish to remain viable in the future.
In the chapter on the IRB, Lincoln makes a case that we currently face a state of affairs where ‘hard’ sciences and neoconservative agendas dominate the overarching discourse of the academy. The question, for me, comes back to who has agency in this situation.
Lincoln seems to locate the primary agency for this state with the ‘hard’ scientists themselves as well as with public governmental agencies – neither of which understand the most recent happenings in qualitative methods. In other words, if they would just come around to what’s happening with action research, then we could solve this little issue. I have heard the same case made in different ways from friends across the liberal arts (i.e. “If the administration would just see the value we add, and then we’d get more money and be taken more seriously.”)
I disagree with this claim. While I do think that the ‘hard’ sciences and governmental agencies should be more receptive to competing methods, it seems to me that the burden of explanation and education falls squarely on the shoulders of those who have constructed alternative paradigms.
In fairness, Lincoln does argue that action researchers should do a better job of educating IRB members, but I don’t think she goes far enough. This question, I believe, is much broader than simply educating IRB members – it is a question of who controls the public discourse, since the public discourse has a direct and immediate impact on the funding and administration of the university.
It is no secret that to impact a discourse the first step is to participate in that discourse. Further, it is also no secret that the liberal arts and humanities, for the most part, see little obligation to participate in the public discourse, aside from simply critiquing it and writing up those critiques in journals which are only disseminated to other scholars in the liberal arts and humanities. In fact, I would argue that participating in the public discourse – to direct one’s research toward actual, social problems and to be vocal the public sphere – is often seen as a sort of ‘softening’ of intellectual standards for scholars in the liberal arts, humanities and most social sciences. An example of this would be Cornell West who was fired by Harvard for not spending enough time conducting ‘scholarly research’ while spending the majority of his time focusing on the public.
Part of the danger of this stance, which eschews engagement with the public discourse, is that the public and its structures of authority – which almost always have oversight over the universities in which we operate - see no value in what we do. How could they? We have chosen to systematically remove ourselves from the public discourse.
Therefore, the proliferation of and authority gained by the ‘hard’ sciences is really no surprise, since they, for the most part, have a direct relationship to society-at-large. It is because of this relationship that the sciences have the gained the authority and have the privilege that they do.
To be fair, the ‘hard’ sciences are engaged in work which is much more easily commodified than the social sciences and liberal arts. But does the fact, in itself, relieve us from the burden of making a societal contribution? I’m not convinced that it does. I also think that if the ‘Post’ mode was more active and vibrant in society, the public discourse would not be so easily swayed by the Modern mode. But since there is no vocal alternative, what choice is the public given?
I suppose the case I am making is, quite simply, that most of the humanities and liberal arts seem to be operating under an assumption that their internal discourse that will eventually ‘trickle down’ to the larger public discourse. Meanwhile, the incredibly meaningful insights made in the “Post” mode are nullified by the lack of direct, outward engagement by scholars in these fields. I believe this is the call and critique of action research and my great hope is that it will be taken up into an ‘action turn’ across all the liberal arts, humanities and social sciences.
Sunday, September 20, 2009
the enlightenment project and the artistic paradigm
Class response again. Sorry if it's long-winded. Basic premise is that we're reading scholars who are debating if the narrative form ('narrativity') has value for scholarship. If you can't tell, I really like when systems of thought come into conflict.
Cheers -
Much of the reading this week raised the question of whether or not ‘narrativity,’ as a descriptive method, has value for the discipline of history. Coming to scholarly research out of a creative writing program, I find this entire debate immensely problematic.
Part of my issue is that the two basic positions (value vs. no value) have framed the discourse purely in terms of an enlightenment paradigm with no attention to the fact that ‘narrativity’ (arising fundamentally out of an artistic form) is operating out of an entirely different paradigm with different motives, assumptions and commitments.
I also take issue with the fact that there are several fundamental questions under the surface of this discourse, which directly impact this debate, but which are never directly addressed. These questions are (a) is the enlightenment project (the dissolution of all unknowing) even achievable?, (b) is the enlightenment project the best way of understanding?, and (c) where can the enlightenment project actually take us – in other words, what is its end-game?
Lastly, it seems that the two sides of the ‘narrativity’ debate seem to be resting on two sides of a fundamental paradox in the enlightenment project, which remains unaddressed and unresolved: on one hand, the goal of the enlightenment (which dominates modern scholarship) is the dissolution of all unknowing, yet on the other hand, human beings (yes, scholars are human beings too) are unable to remove themselves from their own skin are therefore inextricably tangled in a web of partial knowing and, to employ a hermeneutic term, are subject to ‘effective history.’
In some sense, this debate is simply old wine in new wineskins, which began with the question over the value of (or ‘cognitivity of’) ‘religious knowledge’ to the enlightenment project. Religious thought, once the dominant paradigm for understanding, is now seen (within the framework of general scholarly discourse) as malformed and misguided, contrasted against the solidity and purity of enlightenment thought which actually gets us to the end-goal of ‘progress.’ But religious thought, as problematic as it may be within the academic discourse, presents a fundamental challenge to the enlightenment project because it embodies those things which the enlightenment is unequipped to handle: the raising up of metaphysical questions; the focus on the ‘meaning’ over ‘knowing;’ the reality of paradox; and, of course, the valuing of tradition. These are all questions which deeply matter to actual, human discourse and, while they have been systematically erased from the core curriculum, have not been dissolved.
Now we find ourselves rehashing this same debate again: can there be value in a narrative (i.e. non-enlightenment) approach to reality?
In this week’s reading there are two primary opinions on the value of narrativity. One, represented in Kramer’s argument in The Content of the Form, that “Literature suggests alternative ways of knowing and describing the world and uses language imaginatively to represent the ambiguous, overlapping categories of life, thought, words and experience” (117). The other, represented in White’s The Value of Narrativity, which claims that “…real events should not speak, should not show themselves. Real events should simply be; they can perfectly well serve as the referents of a discourse, can be spoken about, but they should not pose as the subjects of a narrative” (3). And later, “Narrative becomes a problem only when we wish to give real events the form of a story. It is because real events do not offer themselves as stories that their narrativization is difficult” (4).
While each author presents a litany of reasons why narrativity should or should not be taken up into historical scholarship, they both seem to miss the fundamental point that the method and goals of narrativity are fundamentally different from the method and goals enlightenment. In other words, the enlightenment goal seems to be a kind of totalized description of everything, which ultimately produces knowledge, and its primary methods to those ends are clarification, categorization, and the elimination of metaphysics. Reciprocally, the goal of the artist/narrativity is to revel in a kind of fragmented understanding which leads directly meaning (personal and, often, societal) and the primary method to those ends are anything that will get the narrator there. In other words, simply because narrative employs the same medium – language – as historical scholarship, it is not of the same fundamental substance - it only bears a family resemblance.
Part of the reason why I believe enlightenment attempts to ‘understand’ art are ultimately doomed to fail (and often remain quite as crude as early anthropological discourses on ‘uncivilized man’) is that the enlightenment employs a methodological framework which is ultimately incompatible the artistic paradigm. In other words history can never be poetic, as Kramer would like it to be, because history is not a process of meaning-making, but of calculation. And so when Kramer argues that “Such a conception of historiography is consistent with the aims of much of contemporary, or at least recent, poetry” – aims that stress the importance of perceiving the ‘strangeness of ordinary things’ “ he is still approaching poetic enterprise out of an enlightenment paradigm (119). In fact, by claiming that history can be poetic, Kramer is quite explicitly claiming that the enlightenment project has dominion over all other modes of knowing and can slip in and out of them at will.
To make this argument a little more general, it is no surprise, then, that art schools have been relegated to the ghettos of the American university because they make claims out of a paradigm which threatens the ideology of enlightenment scholarship, and ask questions which most enlightenment scholars are unwilling – or unable –
answer.
In a very real way, artists operating inside the university play the role of Foucault’s madmen, who at once speak a gibberish which is unintelligible to enlightenment scholarship, yet are heralded for their mystical powers of healing and communion. This is why every university must have its crown jewel – the highly paid artist (usually a poet) who is paraded out at services of convocation or healing – and yet the project of art has no true voice in the enlightenment economy of the academy, as evidenced by art classes being outside the boundary of most core curriculums.
Therefore, I believe the ‘narrativity’ debate is a bit premature and a bit misguided. Before the question of the value of ‘narrativity’ can be answered, a more fundamental question must be answered, which is this: what, precisely, is the goal of historical scholarship? This seems to be the question underneath the question of the value of narrativity. I don’t mean this question pegoratively, but I believe the question of whether narrativity has value is tied directly to the question of what each author sees as the goal of the historical enterprise. On the one hand, it seems that White’s claim that ‘real events do not offer themselves as stories’ – can only be argued effectively if one takes the enlightenment paradigm as the true state of affairs and assumes that the goal of history is a total, objective description. On the other hand, it seems that Kramer finds more value in the goal of history as a representation of the experiences of people in the moment of history and, in this sense, events only have one option for presentation: narrativity.
Cheers -
Much of the reading this week raised the question of whether or not ‘narrativity,’ as a descriptive method, has value for the discipline of history. Coming to scholarly research out of a creative writing program, I find this entire debate immensely problematic.
Part of my issue is that the two basic positions (value vs. no value) have framed the discourse purely in terms of an enlightenment paradigm with no attention to the fact that ‘narrativity’ (arising fundamentally out of an artistic form) is operating out of an entirely different paradigm with different motives, assumptions and commitments.
I also take issue with the fact that there are several fundamental questions under the surface of this discourse, which directly impact this debate, but which are never directly addressed. These questions are (a) is the enlightenment project (the dissolution of all unknowing) even achievable?, (b) is the enlightenment project the best way of understanding?, and (c) where can the enlightenment project actually take us – in other words, what is its end-game?
Lastly, it seems that the two sides of the ‘narrativity’ debate seem to be resting on two sides of a fundamental paradox in the enlightenment project, which remains unaddressed and unresolved: on one hand, the goal of the enlightenment (which dominates modern scholarship) is the dissolution of all unknowing, yet on the other hand, human beings (yes, scholars are human beings too) are unable to remove themselves from their own skin are therefore inextricably tangled in a web of partial knowing and, to employ a hermeneutic term, are subject to ‘effective history.’
In some sense, this debate is simply old wine in new wineskins, which began with the question over the value of (or ‘cognitivity of’) ‘religious knowledge’ to the enlightenment project. Religious thought, once the dominant paradigm for understanding, is now seen (within the framework of general scholarly discourse) as malformed and misguided, contrasted against the solidity and purity of enlightenment thought which actually gets us to the end-goal of ‘progress.’ But religious thought, as problematic as it may be within the academic discourse, presents a fundamental challenge to the enlightenment project because it embodies those things which the enlightenment is unequipped to handle: the raising up of metaphysical questions; the focus on the ‘meaning’ over ‘knowing;’ the reality of paradox; and, of course, the valuing of tradition. These are all questions which deeply matter to actual, human discourse and, while they have been systematically erased from the core curriculum, have not been dissolved.
Now we find ourselves rehashing this same debate again: can there be value in a narrative (i.e. non-enlightenment) approach to reality?
In this week’s reading there are two primary opinions on the value of narrativity. One, represented in Kramer’s argument in The Content of the Form, that “Literature suggests alternative ways of knowing and describing the world and uses language imaginatively to represent the ambiguous, overlapping categories of life, thought, words and experience” (117). The other, represented in White’s The Value of Narrativity, which claims that “…real events should not speak, should not show themselves. Real events should simply be; they can perfectly well serve as the referents of a discourse, can be spoken about, but they should not pose as the subjects of a narrative” (3). And later, “Narrative becomes a problem only when we wish to give real events the form of a story. It is because real events do not offer themselves as stories that their narrativization is difficult” (4).
While each author presents a litany of reasons why narrativity should or should not be taken up into historical scholarship, they both seem to miss the fundamental point that the method and goals of narrativity are fundamentally different from the method and goals enlightenment. In other words, the enlightenment goal seems to be a kind of totalized description of everything, which ultimately produces knowledge, and its primary methods to those ends are clarification, categorization, and the elimination of metaphysics. Reciprocally, the goal of the artist/narrativity is to revel in a kind of fragmented understanding which leads directly meaning (personal and, often, societal) and the primary method to those ends are anything that will get the narrator there. In other words, simply because narrative employs the same medium – language – as historical scholarship, it is not of the same fundamental substance - it only bears a family resemblance.
Part of the reason why I believe enlightenment attempts to ‘understand’ art are ultimately doomed to fail (and often remain quite as crude as early anthropological discourses on ‘uncivilized man’) is that the enlightenment employs a methodological framework which is ultimately incompatible the artistic paradigm. In other words history can never be poetic, as Kramer would like it to be, because history is not a process of meaning-making, but of calculation. And so when Kramer argues that “Such a conception of historiography is consistent with the aims of much of contemporary, or at least recent, poetry” – aims that stress the importance of perceiving the ‘strangeness of ordinary things’ “ he is still approaching poetic enterprise out of an enlightenment paradigm (119). In fact, by claiming that history can be poetic, Kramer is quite explicitly claiming that the enlightenment project has dominion over all other modes of knowing and can slip in and out of them at will.
To make this argument a little more general, it is no surprise, then, that art schools have been relegated to the ghettos of the American university because they make claims out of a paradigm which threatens the ideology of enlightenment scholarship, and ask questions which most enlightenment scholars are unwilling – or unable –
answer.
In a very real way, artists operating inside the university play the role of Foucault’s madmen, who at once speak a gibberish which is unintelligible to enlightenment scholarship, yet are heralded for their mystical powers of healing and communion. This is why every university must have its crown jewel – the highly paid artist (usually a poet) who is paraded out at services of convocation or healing – and yet the project of art has no true voice in the enlightenment economy of the academy, as evidenced by art classes being outside the boundary of most core curriculums.
Therefore, I believe the ‘narrativity’ debate is a bit premature and a bit misguided. Before the question of the value of ‘narrativity’ can be answered, a more fundamental question must be answered, which is this: what, precisely, is the goal of historical scholarship? This seems to be the question underneath the question of the value of narrativity. I don’t mean this question pegoratively, but I believe the question of whether narrativity has value is tied directly to the question of what each author sees as the goal of the historical enterprise. On the one hand, it seems that White’s claim that ‘real events do not offer themselves as stories’ – can only be argued effectively if one takes the enlightenment paradigm as the true state of affairs and assumes that the goal of history is a total, objective description. On the other hand, it seems that Kramer finds more value in the goal of history as a representation of the experiences of people in the moment of history and, in this sense, events only have one option for presentation: narrativity.
Saturday, September 12, 2009
authority, truth and the unknown
Sorry if this is extremely 'heady' - it's my weekly reflection for a class I'm taking. We're finishing up Foucault's 'Archeology of Knowledge.' Some context: some folks in my class last week were very disturbed that 'religious people' had taken up the term 'postmodern.' They felt that these 'religious people' misunderstood the philosophical use of the term (I sort of agree, sort of don't) and were 'bastardizing' it (I sort of agree, sort of don't).
Side note: A 'field of discourse' is a term Foucault uses to describe an invisible border drawn around a dialogue. Also, inside that border there are certain rules of engagement. For example, at a fundamentalist Bible study it would 'out of bounds' to say that Jesus wasn't divine. Or, in an English Lit class it would be 'out of bounds' to say "This poem really moved me." A dialogue, in this case, doesn't just refer to one conversation, but to the conversation of an entire community of people. In this case: the field of philosophy and the field of religion.
I want to follow up on the dialogue we had in class last week about the concept of ‘postmodernity.’ I left class last week very unsettled about the way in which we framed this concept in our discussion, and I think our discussion about the usage of the term ‘postmodernity’ by religious groups might serve as a good case study which is quite relevant to the Foucault reading this week and to the goals of interdisciplinarity.
I will begin with the question of authority. In particular, who has authority over a field of discourse and over the concepts emerging out of that field of discourse? Several of us, myself included, used the phrased ‘bastardized’ in describing what happened to the concept of ‘postmodernity’ as it left the field of philosophical discourse and entered other disciplinary and non-academic discourses.
Last week, we threw this description (bastardized) around as though it was appropriate and we all agreed on its usage, but I want to dig a little deeper into the prejudices behind this term. It’s a term I’ve heard in other courses not only to describe concepts as they shift between fields of discourse, but also to describe the way in which Academic A employs Academic B’s work.
In terms of our discussion last week, I believe the term ‘bastardized’ only has value if we take the following as given: (a) the originating field of discourse (philosophy) and all philosophers in that field of discourse understand, objectively, precisely and completely, what the concept ‘postmodernity’ means and how it describes the world; (b) the originating field of discourse (philosophy) and all philosophers in that field of discourse have the authority to dictate usage and appropriation of the term ‘postmodernity’ by other fields of discourse.
I’m not so sure this claim holds.
To the first part, I think Foucault would offer a heavy critique of the claim that the originating field of discourse and all voices in that discourse actually understand the terminology central to the field of discourse. Not only can we return to Foucault’s critique of the stability of objects and concepts, but I also think Foucault’s conception of the ‘statement,’ takes aim at the validity of boundaries placed on fields of discourse. In other words, concepts (‘postmodernity’) which at first appear to belong to a single field of discourse (philosophy) actually belong to and in fact require a network of concepts extending beyond that field of discourse in order to be understood.
To the second part, the question is simply this: who holds authority to regulate the meaning and interpretation of individual concepts? If we are going to argue that a field of discourse holds the authority, where should we draw our boundary: who do we include/exclude as being part of the field of discourse? If we want to argue that a field of discourse only includes those people who have been awarded a doctorate in the field, then no student has the right to employ the term. If we want to argue that only those who are students and professors in the field are the boundary, then do we include undergraduates the minute they have declared a major? And what do we do with those on the margins of the field, or in subfields who ‘belong’ to a discipline without ‘belonging’ to it?
My point is simply that to claim that a term has been ‘bastardized’ (and I am certainly guilty of making this claim) is also to assume (a) there is a correct and incorrect usage, (b) there are those in authority who have a clear and precise understanding of the term, set against those in the margins who are confused, and (c) that the term itself is stable and available, rather than always already undergoing massive reconstruction and revision in the midst of dialogue.
I believe Foucault would argue (I would agree with him) that these are all false claims. But this is also quite unsatisfying for those of us (like me) who would like to know where the hell we stand. In other words, it’s one thing to critique the epistemological underpinnings of fields of discourse, it’s quite another to offer a suggestion which lets us know if we’re actually getting somewhere.
Part of the danger of Foucault is that he opens up a huge epistemological question for those of us who have been raised up in an intellectual system which has taught us to believe that that our goal as humans and the goal of the academy is to determine truth and falsity - or, as was stated in ‘Dialectic of Enlightenment,’ to eliminate all unknown. We want to know - in fact we must know - where the truth lies, how we can know when we’ve found it and what is the truth on which we can build our discipline.
Conversely, if our goal is to determine truth, our fear is not falsity, but the unknown. Our fear is that all fields of discourse will become relativized (no compass to determine truth from false), that the value we place on them will dissolve, and we will then be simply stuck in the mud. And, to be honest, I’m not sure how Foucault might respond. He seems to get at a response in his Lecture on the Discourse of Language, which is phrased not as a response to the question, but as a rejection of the question entirely: that the intellectual infrastructure of the academy is built on a ‘will to truth,’ which itself is a false impulse. I also think he might argue that the deeply connected networks to which all statements and fields of discourse belong and through which they have meaning, concurrently reject the truth/false distinction while stabilizing the known from the unknown. In this way the very paradigm of knowledge is shifted from true/false to known/unknown.
While I’d much prefer to just find the ‘truthiness’ of the world and tuck it under my pillow at night and sleep soundly, I don’t think this is good enough for Foucault. I also think Foucault’s argument severely complicates the academy’s view of itself as the unabashed expert of the world. In other words, if no field of discourse can make an unequivocal claim on truth, then no field of discourse can make an unequivocal claim on truth.
Let me move toward conclusion.
We have spent the last few weeks critiquing the disciplines for committing the sin of doggedly guarding the boundaries of their fields of discourse, with little attention to the even deeper boundary which divides the field of intellectualism from the field of non-intellectualism. By no means am I arguing for a trans-disciplinary method here, but simply pointing out what I see as the double standard of our disciplinary critique. On the one hand, we can agree that disciplines should begin the process of diplomacy. On the other, we are levying a critique of non-academics who attempt to take up concepts which emerge from the academic field of discourse and blend them into non-academic fields of discourse. Again, I am not arguing for a trans-disciplinary method, but what I do see in Foucault is the propensity to critique this sort of prejudice in the academy. Foucault, I don’t believe, is simply critiquing the borders between the sane and the ‘mad’ as an exercise in intellectualism, but is doing do as a way so that the ‘mad’ in society are, in some sense, set free.
Ultimately, I believe there is a fine line between, on one hand, claiming that those outside of a field of discourse are ‘bastardizing’ concepts if they appropriate concepts into a separate field of discourse and, on the other hand, claiming that we, as interdisciplinarians, are using concepts between fields of discourse to form unique and creative syntheses. In fact, ‘creative synthesis’ viewed in a different light – from the light of those ensconced in traditional disciplinarity - is simply another name for bastardization. Yet we know that it is not until concepts are dislodged from disciplinary boundaries and revisioned that they can truly be set free. Therefore, I think that before we as interdisciplinarians gain the sort of critical buy-in necessary to do our work, we first have to be willing to answer the epistemological critique that we, ourselves, levy against others. We have to be able to determine where the line is drawn between ‘bastardization’ and ‘critical synthesis,’ and how it is that one is a fallacy while the other is a movement forward.
Side note: A 'field of discourse' is a term Foucault uses to describe an invisible border drawn around a dialogue. Also, inside that border there are certain rules of engagement. For example, at a fundamentalist Bible study it would 'out of bounds' to say that Jesus wasn't divine. Or, in an English Lit class it would be 'out of bounds' to say "This poem really moved me." A dialogue, in this case, doesn't just refer to one conversation, but to the conversation of an entire community of people. In this case: the field of philosophy and the field of religion.
I want to follow up on the dialogue we had in class last week about the concept of ‘postmodernity.’ I left class last week very unsettled about the way in which we framed this concept in our discussion, and I think our discussion about the usage of the term ‘postmodernity’ by religious groups might serve as a good case study which is quite relevant to the Foucault reading this week and to the goals of interdisciplinarity.
I will begin with the question of authority. In particular, who has authority over a field of discourse and over the concepts emerging out of that field of discourse? Several of us, myself included, used the phrased ‘bastardized’ in describing what happened to the concept of ‘postmodernity’ as it left the field of philosophical discourse and entered other disciplinary and non-academic discourses.
Last week, we threw this description (bastardized) around as though it was appropriate and we all agreed on its usage, but I want to dig a little deeper into the prejudices behind this term. It’s a term I’ve heard in other courses not only to describe concepts as they shift between fields of discourse, but also to describe the way in which Academic A employs Academic B’s work.
In terms of our discussion last week, I believe the term ‘bastardized’ only has value if we take the following as given: (a) the originating field of discourse (philosophy) and all philosophers in that field of discourse understand, objectively, precisely and completely, what the concept ‘postmodernity’ means and how it describes the world; (b) the originating field of discourse (philosophy) and all philosophers in that field of discourse have the authority to dictate usage and appropriation of the term ‘postmodernity’ by other fields of discourse.
I’m not so sure this claim holds.
To the first part, I think Foucault would offer a heavy critique of the claim that the originating field of discourse and all voices in that discourse actually understand the terminology central to the field of discourse. Not only can we return to Foucault’s critique of the stability of objects and concepts, but I also think Foucault’s conception of the ‘statement,’ takes aim at the validity of boundaries placed on fields of discourse. In other words, concepts (‘postmodernity’) which at first appear to belong to a single field of discourse (philosophy) actually belong to and in fact require a network of concepts extending beyond that field of discourse in order to be understood.
To the second part, the question is simply this: who holds authority to regulate the meaning and interpretation of individual concepts? If we are going to argue that a field of discourse holds the authority, where should we draw our boundary: who do we include/exclude as being part of the field of discourse? If we want to argue that a field of discourse only includes those people who have been awarded a doctorate in the field, then no student has the right to employ the term. If we want to argue that only those who are students and professors in the field are the boundary, then do we include undergraduates the minute they have declared a major? And what do we do with those on the margins of the field, or in subfields who ‘belong’ to a discipline without ‘belonging’ to it?
My point is simply that to claim that a term has been ‘bastardized’ (and I am certainly guilty of making this claim) is also to assume (a) there is a correct and incorrect usage, (b) there are those in authority who have a clear and precise understanding of the term, set against those in the margins who are confused, and (c) that the term itself is stable and available, rather than always already undergoing massive reconstruction and revision in the midst of dialogue.
I believe Foucault would argue (I would agree with him) that these are all false claims. But this is also quite unsatisfying for those of us (like me) who would like to know where the hell we stand. In other words, it’s one thing to critique the epistemological underpinnings of fields of discourse, it’s quite another to offer a suggestion which lets us know if we’re actually getting somewhere.
Part of the danger of Foucault is that he opens up a huge epistemological question for those of us who have been raised up in an intellectual system which has taught us to believe that that our goal as humans and the goal of the academy is to determine truth and falsity - or, as was stated in ‘Dialectic of Enlightenment,’ to eliminate all unknown. We want to know - in fact we must know - where the truth lies, how we can know when we’ve found it and what is the truth on which we can build our discipline.
Conversely, if our goal is to determine truth, our fear is not falsity, but the unknown. Our fear is that all fields of discourse will become relativized (no compass to determine truth from false), that the value we place on them will dissolve, and we will then be simply stuck in the mud. And, to be honest, I’m not sure how Foucault might respond. He seems to get at a response in his Lecture on the Discourse of Language, which is phrased not as a response to the question, but as a rejection of the question entirely: that the intellectual infrastructure of the academy is built on a ‘will to truth,’ which itself is a false impulse. I also think he might argue that the deeply connected networks to which all statements and fields of discourse belong and through which they have meaning, concurrently reject the truth/false distinction while stabilizing the known from the unknown. In this way the very paradigm of knowledge is shifted from true/false to known/unknown.
While I’d much prefer to just find the ‘truthiness’ of the world and tuck it under my pillow at night and sleep soundly, I don’t think this is good enough for Foucault. I also think Foucault’s argument severely complicates the academy’s view of itself as the unabashed expert of the world. In other words, if no field of discourse can make an unequivocal claim on truth, then no field of discourse can make an unequivocal claim on truth.
Let me move toward conclusion.
We have spent the last few weeks critiquing the disciplines for committing the sin of doggedly guarding the boundaries of their fields of discourse, with little attention to the even deeper boundary which divides the field of intellectualism from the field of non-intellectualism. By no means am I arguing for a trans-disciplinary method here, but simply pointing out what I see as the double standard of our disciplinary critique. On the one hand, we can agree that disciplines should begin the process of diplomacy. On the other, we are levying a critique of non-academics who attempt to take up concepts which emerge from the academic field of discourse and blend them into non-academic fields of discourse. Again, I am not arguing for a trans-disciplinary method, but what I do see in Foucault is the propensity to critique this sort of prejudice in the academy. Foucault, I don’t believe, is simply critiquing the borders between the sane and the ‘mad’ as an exercise in intellectualism, but is doing do as a way so that the ‘mad’ in society are, in some sense, set free.
Ultimately, I believe there is a fine line between, on one hand, claiming that those outside of a field of discourse are ‘bastardizing’ concepts if they appropriate concepts into a separate field of discourse and, on the other hand, claiming that we, as interdisciplinarians, are using concepts between fields of discourse to form unique and creative syntheses. In fact, ‘creative synthesis’ viewed in a different light – from the light of those ensconced in traditional disciplinarity - is simply another name for bastardization. Yet we know that it is not until concepts are dislodged from disciplinary boundaries and revisioned that they can truly be set free. Therefore, I think that before we as interdisciplinarians gain the sort of critical buy-in necessary to do our work, we first have to be willing to answer the epistemological critique that we, ourselves, levy against others. We have to be able to determine where the line is drawn between ‘bastardization’ and ‘critical synthesis,’ and how it is that one is a fallacy while the other is a movement forward.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Does objectivity exist?
I've been reading Foucault's "Archeology of Knowledge" and Adorno/Horkheimer "Dialectic of Enlightenment" for my class. Just had some thoughts...
In "Dialectic of Enlightenment," Adorno and Horkhiemer argue that the “…concern (of the enlightenment) is not ‘satisfaction, which men call truth,’ but ‘operation,’ the effective procedure” and that “for enlightenment, anything which does not conform to the standard of calculability and utility must be viewed with suspicion” (2-3). In "Archeology of Knowledge," Foucault offers a critique of the ‘great, silent, motionless bases’ on which disciplinary knowledge rests.
Both texts offer a critique of the epistemological assumptions of modern disciplines; what they seem to be getting at is the question of whether ‘objectivity,’ which is the linchpin of most modern disciplines, actually exists. In different ways, they both raise the question of whether, if objectivity is possible, how does one have access to it, and what might be the benefit of an objective state of affairs? Certainly it might allow us to tinker with our environment and build better bombs, but where does that get us? The question of objectivity further spills over into questions of which type of knowledge counts as valid, what is the purpose of knowledge, and where learning happens.
One of the things I find fascinating is just how pervasive the view of a ‘great, silent, motionless’ base is at most universities. I believe most students, as well as most academics – particularly as one proceeds through the social sciences toward the natural sciences -- believe in the fundamental assumption that objective knowledge is not only possible, but that it is achieved every day. Objective knowledge is further stabilized by Derrida’s ‘metaphysics of presence.’
I would argue that much of the political economy of the disciplines is built on the enlightenment assumption of the reality of objectivity. Further, this assumption assigns values to types of knowledge. At the top of the value system lays the objective, empirical knowledge, which is closely followed by objective, rational knowledge. At the bottom rests knowledge gained outside of the classroom – knowledge of self, intercultural knowledge, service learning, leadership skills.
We see this value system embedded in the way we speak about disciplines - the sciences are the ‘hard’ sciences, thereby implying that knowledge in the humanities is ‘soft’ and, therefore, less valid. We can see this at Virginia Tech in the way students joke about the validity of particular majors – that those in the sciences and engineering are somehow doing work which is more difficult (i.e. more conceptually valid) than those in the liberal arts and humanities. It also manifests in the ‘assessment’ imperative at most universities, which are under pressure to produce quantitative data which can ‘prove’ learning occurs. I wonder what would happen is we were to admit that the history of science is guided not by objective insight, but by funding sources and political ideologies?
We can see the pandering for objectivity most clearly in the social sciences as, on the one hand, they want to cash in on the ‘epistemological value’ and ‘objective stability’ of scientific method by employing a repeatable, observable approach but, on the other hand, they only have access to a messy data set which can’t conform to such empirical or rational parameters – you and I.
Counter to this approach, Adorno, Horkeheimer and Foucault seem to be taking a much more hermeneutical approach to knowledge construction, arguing for the dialogical character of knowledge, the notion that investigators are also subject to the same historical and cultural forces as the ‘data sets’ with which they try to engage, and the notion that every element present in the constitution of knowledge is also bound to concentric circles of context and community.
One critique which can be levied against the kind of approach for which Foucault argues is the question of relativity. But, again, the notion of relativity only really makes sense if one rests on a kind of dualism which posits either knowledge is stable or it is not – in other words, if one assumes in advance the reality of objectivity. I think Foucault is trying to offer another alternative which complicates the notion of a stable epistemological center, but also argues that the construction of knowledge is still possible.
In "Dialectic of Enlightenment," Adorno and Horkhiemer argue that the “…concern (of the enlightenment) is not ‘satisfaction, which men call truth,’ but ‘operation,’ the effective procedure” and that “for enlightenment, anything which does not conform to the standard of calculability and utility must be viewed with suspicion” (2-3). In "Archeology of Knowledge," Foucault offers a critique of the ‘great, silent, motionless bases’ on which disciplinary knowledge rests.
Both texts offer a critique of the epistemological assumptions of modern disciplines; what they seem to be getting at is the question of whether ‘objectivity,’ which is the linchpin of most modern disciplines, actually exists. In different ways, they both raise the question of whether, if objectivity is possible, how does one have access to it, and what might be the benefit of an objective state of affairs? Certainly it might allow us to tinker with our environment and build better bombs, but where does that get us? The question of objectivity further spills over into questions of which type of knowledge counts as valid, what is the purpose of knowledge, and where learning happens.
One of the things I find fascinating is just how pervasive the view of a ‘great, silent, motionless’ base is at most universities. I believe most students, as well as most academics – particularly as one proceeds through the social sciences toward the natural sciences -- believe in the fundamental assumption that objective knowledge is not only possible, but that it is achieved every day. Objective knowledge is further stabilized by Derrida’s ‘metaphysics of presence.’
I would argue that much of the political economy of the disciplines is built on the enlightenment assumption of the reality of objectivity. Further, this assumption assigns values to types of knowledge. At the top of the value system lays the objective, empirical knowledge, which is closely followed by objective, rational knowledge. At the bottom rests knowledge gained outside of the classroom – knowledge of self, intercultural knowledge, service learning, leadership skills.
We see this value system embedded in the way we speak about disciplines - the sciences are the ‘hard’ sciences, thereby implying that knowledge in the humanities is ‘soft’ and, therefore, less valid. We can see this at Virginia Tech in the way students joke about the validity of particular majors – that those in the sciences and engineering are somehow doing work which is more difficult (i.e. more conceptually valid) than those in the liberal arts and humanities. It also manifests in the ‘assessment’ imperative at most universities, which are under pressure to produce quantitative data which can ‘prove’ learning occurs. I wonder what would happen is we were to admit that the history of science is guided not by objective insight, but by funding sources and political ideologies?
We can see the pandering for objectivity most clearly in the social sciences as, on the one hand, they want to cash in on the ‘epistemological value’ and ‘objective stability’ of scientific method by employing a repeatable, observable approach but, on the other hand, they only have access to a messy data set which can’t conform to such empirical or rational parameters – you and I.
Counter to this approach, Adorno, Horkeheimer and Foucault seem to be taking a much more hermeneutical approach to knowledge construction, arguing for the dialogical character of knowledge, the notion that investigators are also subject to the same historical and cultural forces as the ‘data sets’ with which they try to engage, and the notion that every element present in the constitution of knowledge is also bound to concentric circles of context and community.
One critique which can be levied against the kind of approach for which Foucault argues is the question of relativity. But, again, the notion of relativity only really makes sense if one rests on a kind of dualism which posits either knowledge is stable or it is not – in other words, if one assumes in advance the reality of objectivity. I think Foucault is trying to offer another alternative which complicates the notion of a stable epistemological center, but also argues that the construction of knowledge is still possible.
Long time, no see
It's been forever since I posted anything on here. I'm going to blame it on the birth of my daughter, since I haven't really had the chance to sleep or get situated in the last eight weeks. Needless to say, things are starting to settle down in my life, and I'm ready to go move forward.
What's new?
1. I'm trying to start an emergent cohort in my local area. If you have ideas on how to build a strong nucleus, please let me know.
2. I'm beginning my doctoral studies this semester. I'm a student in an interdisciplinary program, focusing on philosophy of education, hermeneutics and higher education.
3. I want to continue to write, knowing that this blog is going to be very 'heady' at times and that I have no real 'topic' other than simply the things that interest me. Mostly, that is higher education, student affairs and religion.
4. I'm currently taking a seminar on the concept of disciplines. I'm going to be posting a lot of ideas from that seminar here.
Cheers -
What's new?
1. I'm trying to start an emergent cohort in my local area. If you have ideas on how to build a strong nucleus, please let me know.
2. I'm beginning my doctoral studies this semester. I'm a student in an interdisciplinary program, focusing on philosophy of education, hermeneutics and higher education.
3. I want to continue to write, knowing that this blog is going to be very 'heady' at times and that I have no real 'topic' other than simply the things that interest me. Mostly, that is higher education, student affairs and religion.
4. I'm currently taking a seminar on the concept of disciplines. I'm going to be posting a lot of ideas from that seminar here.
Cheers -
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