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ABSTRACT
Recent applications of the strong programme in the social study of science
involve (I) appeals for a naturalistic study of science and (II) the invocation of
interests as an explanatory resource. It is argued that the notion of naturalism
is insufficiently clear and that attempts to identify interests neglect important
features of scientific practice. Studies of the content of scientific knowledge
have proceeded at the expense of attention to the character of argument Itself. A
detailed examination of one example of the many recent case studies hrghlights a
series of explanatory strategies used to gloss the fundamental difficulties of
interests explanation. It is argued that rather than unreflectively attempting to
reveal interests it is more appropriate to turn our attention to the management
of explanatory strategies in the practice of scientific argument.
Woolgar
366
Those familiar with Barnes Scientific Knowledge and
Sociological Theory (SKST)2 and Bloors Knowledge and Social
Imagery (KSI)3 will recall the main arguments which can be sub-
that remains in the wake of the prostrong programme is how exactly should
sociologists proceed in constructing the influence of the social? Or,
in case this way of expressing it should unduly anticipate my argument, which specific aspects of the social are to be studied and how
are they to be incorporated into our understanding of the
mechanisms of knowledge generation?
The
important question
nouncements of the
body of work has appeared which can reasonably be said to represent an attempt to extend and apply the initial programmatic formulations. This now makes it possible to discern a general trend
and to begin a tentative evaluation. The central feature of this particular body of work is the recommendation and use of interests as
an explanatory resource: change in (or involvement with) the con-
367
tent of scientific
368
which is intended. Consider the following examples from
Barnes IGK. At one point, naturalistic seems to imply some
similarity to scientific method (... the forms of argument and explanations... are avowedly naturalistic, in the sense that the
natural sciences can be said to be naturalistic),2 notwithstanding
the obvious difficulties of presupposing the nature of the
phenomenon (that is, scientific method) which is supposed to be
one main object of study.3 Naturalistic also denotes a nonevaluative perspective, a descriptive rather than prescriptive approach, which can be contrasted with the concerns of philosophers
and epistemologists (The sociologist is concerned with the
naturalistic understanding of what people take to be knowledge
and not with the evaluative assessment of what deserves so to be
taken).4 It is also used to mean non-teleologica}l5 and, by contrast
with the grand speculative philosophical concerns of writers such as
Habermas, it is used to denote a preoccupation with low level
theoretical concerns. 16 At other places in the text naturalism
seems to denote coherence, straightforwardness (in the sense that
naturalistic analyses should not be concerned with evaluative questions) and untaintedness or lack of bias (as when it is said that the
orientations and conclusions of writers such as Smith and Ricardo
would have been naturalistic but for their modulation and amendment at the hands of ideological determination&dquo;). The undefined
and multifaceted usage of naturalism makes it difficult to discern
which particular aspect is being appealed to. More importantly, it is
unclear what precise form of explanatory account is envisaged. To
say, for example, that Historical materialism has been accepted
here only insofar as it has merits as an entirely naturalistic account
of mans activity and its historical development ,18 is to leave
unclear the specific features of historical materialist accounts which
thing
are
being applauded.9
369
370
throws into better perspective the knowledge claim or event which
is at issue. In its weakest form the job can be managed merely by
juxtaposing, in the same report, the knowledge event and the
revealed circumstances, preferably with cautious caveats about the
difficulty of speculating on the precise causal mechanisms at work.
(But note how stressing the difficulty of specifying the nature of a
mechanism can do substantial rhetorical work in establishing its ex-
istence.)
In terms of my earlier comments, and to employ a contemporary
metaphor, Barnes version of naturalism is essentially two-tone.
For the phenomenon to be explained, Barnes quite rightly argues
to naturalism in the second of Matzas
But when it comes to the explanatory format, Barnes goes
for a neo-Durkheimian form of causal explanation which is
naturalistic in the first of Matzas usages. This means that the explanatory resource (interests) is emphatically not to be considered a
social resource. Interests are not to be treated as actively constructed assemblages of conventions or meaningful cultural
resources, to be understood and assessed in terms of their role in
activity, even though this is precisely the formula which Barnes
says has to be applied to all representations, pictorial or verbal,
realistic or abstract .24 For Barnes, knowledge products and scientific events of all kinds fall under the rubric of socially constructed
representations, but interests do not.
All this could be summarized by saying that the standard complaint made in connection with Mannheim could be turned back on
itself. To adopt Barnes own criticism of Mannheim, we could say
that Barnes knew and advanced many good arguments against the
contemplative account and in favour of the alternative he explicitly
advocated, but this did not suffice to orient his practical
approach.z5 The complaint against Mannheim is that he explicitly
stopped short of making natural science and mathematics the focus
of sociological study. The practical approach to which Barnes
alludes here had to do with Mannheims choice of focus. Barnes
thus criticizes Mannheim for failing to see the implication of his
own programmatic arguments; Mannheim is allegedly inconsistent
in practising a sociology of knowledge which assumes that (certain
kinds of) scientific knowledge are contemplatively available. But a
similar inconsistency is evident in Barnes own argument. For
Barnes practical approach itself involves the deployment of a body
of unexamined phenomena (interests) as sources of explanation in
for
perspective adhering
senses.
371
practical pur-
sociologist.
To anticipate one obvious objection, it could be said that some
aspect of explanation must always remain unexplicated. Indeed, it
could be argued, explanation of this kind simply cannot proceed
without assuming the pre-given status of one or other entity. Let
me return to this issue below and, for the time being, concede that
at least one factor in explanation must remain unexplicated. Even if
this is the case, it is not at all clear that there is any strong justification for the choice of interests, apart from the prevalence of this
concept in the traditional sociology of knowledge literature. Undoubtedly, Barnes arguments, especially as presented in IGK, are
both addressed to and influenced by the sociological concerns of
writers such as Marx, Lukacs and Habermas.26 Unfortunately this
orientation completely ignores evidence that the importance of
terms like interests should be approached from an entirely different
perspective.2 Scientific practice involves, crucially, the imputation
of social characteristics.28 In other words, scientists themselves can
be seen to be constantly engaged in monitoring, evaluating, attributing (in short, in accounting for) the potential presence or
absence of interests in the work and activities both of others and of
themselves. Interest-work is thus constitutive of scientific practice.
But it would not be unduly cautious to say that we have as yet little
appreciation of the way this kind of work is done by scientists. It is
at best inappropriate, therefore, to use interests as a resource at the
expense of investigating how they are accomplished. The construction and use of interests is an aspect of scientific activity which
demands treatment as a phenomenon in its own right.
In any case the notion that some aspect of explanation must remain unexplicated can only be offered as a solution given a commitment to causal-type explanation. If, for example, we undertake
an ethnographic approach to the study of scientific activity, it is
true that this will also involve the use of unexplicated resources. We
are necessarily unable simultaneously to make all features of the
scientists world the subject of our study. But since no causal explanation is required, less significance need be attached to the role
of these uninvestigated features. They remain available for further,
extended ethnographic study and our discussion need not be undermined by the suspicion that they have been constructed by the
372
history, sociology,
resources
are
exploited
in the
to facilitate
prediction
contexts. 30
Both these statements exhibit similar formats: the first part of the
statement characterizes the phenomenon to be explained
(knowledge) in terms consistent with the constructivist perspective
that is, knowledge is not just a pre-given, it is socially malleable
(one might say negotiable). In other words, knowledge is to be
understood as a resource. However, the second part of each statement indicates that actors treatment of this resource must be
understood as their treatment of a resource for a purpose. The initial part of these statements suggests that we attempt to get to grips
with the how of actors dealing in and with knowledge; the latter
part makes clear that this is just a means to an end - a second and
overarching analytical objective is that we understand why actors
do things in this way. Once again a basic asymmetry in the scheme
becomes apparent. The objects of the how domain (representations, arguments, knowledge) are to be treated naturalistically in
the sense that they are all to be viewed as actively constructed; by
contrast, the objects of the why domain are to be taken as pregiven, to be used as sources in a kind of causal explanation, and to
be invoked without making problematic their constructed
character.
As already noted, this distinction between how and why questions leaves unexamined the way in which interests are constructed,
invoked, and utilized. In addition, the unproblematically assumed
existence of interests has an important effect on the structure of ensuing explanation. If knowledge can always in principle be explained by recourse to the interests of the actors involved, then any
-
373
encountered in specifying the nature and extent of these
interests is merely technical. In other words, the problems
associated with attempts to specify the determinants of actions may
be severe but they are never sufficiently significant to threaten the
explanatory enterprise: the assumed existence of interests ensures
their eventual discovery or approximation, notwithstanding the
back-breaking sociological labour which might be said to be required. Of course, Barnes is aware of the difficulties. He notes that
the task of specifying concealed interests is particularly
troublesome. He speaks of the great technical difficulty involved
in identifying the role of concealed interests3 and concludes that
the difficulty of the task contrasts starkly with the confidence with
which sociologists and polemicists typically undertake it.32
Nonetheless, for Barnes, the problem remains a technical irritant
rather than the basis for any deep reappraisal of the nature of the
task. Relative to the goal of revealing the effect of interests, the
problem of identifying and attributing interests is portrayed as a
necessary evil: such technical difficulties should not obscure the
fact that the approach can be successfully applied in a considerable
number of instances.33
Thus far I have identified effects stemming from Barnes usage
of naturalism and from the selection of interests as an explanatory lynch-pin. The recourse to a causal-type explanatory format and the attempt to portray interests as the explanation of scientific action are both neglectful of the constructive activity involved
in scientific work. The proposed focus of investigation remains admirable : even the most esoteric detail of scientific knowledge
should be analyzed. But the specific form of proposed investigation
is very unsatisfactory. We are led to the heart of scientific practice
by arguments about focus, only to find that the phenomenon is
then to be subject to a sociological sledgehammer. It is not just that
the particular choice of explanans (interests) is at fault: I am not
simply advocating the replacement of interests by some alternative
explanatory factor. Instead, I am arguing that far greater reflective
attention be given to the explanatory form of interests explanations. In order further to explore the character of this explanatory
form, I now turn to an examination of some of the empirical case
studies which have adopted an approach similar to that recommended in IGK.
problem
374
Case Studies of Interests
There is
plethora of such
375
the Mertonian model had been radically displaced, the force of this
parallel is particularly striking. Granted, a major change has occurred in arguing that a focus of sociological analysis can be the very
content of scientific knowledge. But the form of analysis remains
essentially unchanged: instead of norms we now have interests.
Garfinkel has argued that the social sciences have an unfortunate
habit of making out actors to be cultural or judgemental dopes:43
that is, individuals behaviour is too readily explained by portraying it as both complying with and resulting from pre-established
alternatives of action provided by the available culture. As Garfinkel points out, this kind of portrayal neglects significant aspects
of individuals behaviour - for example, the work they do in anticipating possible rule violation, their management of the
relevance of alternative courses of action, their assessment of the
possible conditions and consequences of action, and the like. In
short, the portrayal of the individual as a judgemental dope ignores
an analysis of the individuals own language game.
To apply this to the present problem, we can see that we are dealing with two kinds of dope. On the one hand, we are all familiar
with complaints about philosophical idealizations of science.
Scientists have frequently committed themselves to print with the
view that there is no such thing as the scientific method, that
philosophers attach undue significance to the formal products of
research, that philosophers dwell selectively on instances of successful science, and so on. Recently, writers in the social study of
science have echoed these criticisms with enthusiasm, taking the inadequacy of these philosophical versions as the justification for
more sociologically-informed analysis. Indeed, as we shall see
below, some kind of preliminary invective against philosophical
characterization of science is a rhetorical sine qua non of nearly all
the interests model contributions. In short, the butt of the criticism
by sociologists is the philosophical portrayal of scientists as
rationality-dopes. That is, philosophers are held to portray scientific action as the actors response to existing knowledge and his extrapolation along some rational course. On the other hand, just as
philosophers often seem intent on portraying scientists as rationality dopes, it is now apparent that a growing body of authors are
intent on portraying scientists as interest-dopes. Once again, the
significance of this is that the social study of science, as exemplified
by interests model explanations, ignores the processes of construction whereby scientists themselves manage and attribute interests.
376
I should emphasize that I am not claiming any of these often very
careful case studies to be wrong: within their own terms they
display admirable consistency.44 In his review of NO, Neve also
seems to find the general approach fruitful from an historical point
of view, although he has some reservations about specific applications of the model in that volume, noting an unease which accompanies certain versions of the &dquo;interest&dquo; analysis,45 and referring
to the difficulty of the reductionist use of &dquo;interest&dquo; as a
methodology .46 In the light of the problems already raised in relation to Barnes argument, let us look in detail at an example of the
empirical application of the interests model. Apart from illustrating some of the argument already made about interests explanations, an examination of an empirical example also provides
an opportunity for inquiring into the social character of explanation in general. In other words, I shall take the critical examination
of empirical interests explanations as an occasion for beginning to
formulate key questions about the nature of explanatory techniques and strategies.
The
method employed.
MacKenzie begins with an account of the divergent views of Yule
and Pearson. As represented in their publications of 1900, Yule and
Pearson proposed alternative and competing measures of statistical
association between two nominal variables. Yules reasoning was
based, in part, on values which a measure should assume if the two
variables under study turned out to be independent (Q = 0), fully
positively associated (Q = + 1) and fully negatively associated
(Q = - 1). His proposed measure, Yules Q, is calculated by a formula comprising the four observed cell frequencies of a 2 by 2
table. Pearson reasoned that the observed frequencies should more
377
378
eugenics.
The central facets of MacKenzies argument are clear: firstly, the
focus of his analysis is the very nature of the alternative
mathematical measures proposed by Yule and Pearson; secondly,
differences in these measures are to be explained by various sets of
prevailing interests. For our immediate purposes, little significance
need be attached to the claimed distinction between cognitive and
social interests. Suffice it to note that the distinction does raise
issues requiring further consideration. In the first place, as has been
argued in some detail elsewhere, the distinction between what is to
count as cognitive rather than social (and vice versa) is an important feature of participants own discourse; the active achievement and management of the distinction is central to scientific
argument.52 Proponents of interests explanations overlook the importance of the social/cognitive distinction for scientists by attempting to provide definitive accounts of the type of interests at work.
Secondly, the particular distinction which is claimed to exist between cognitive and social interests can be read as indicating
that certain kinds of scientific action derive from the existing corpus of scientific knowledge while others do not. At least in some
forms, then, the claimed distinction between cognitive and
social interests (strangely reminiscent of the well-worn internalist/externalist dichotomy) is in danger of being heard as a plea
for the reintroduction of a classical philosophy of science.
As can be seen, even from a necessarily brief rendering of
MacKenzies argument, considerable constructive work has gone
into his revelation of the interests involved. Let us now begin to
unpack (or deconstruct) this work and, bearing in mind the
assumption that this is roughly typical of the case studies listed
above, identify some of its main explanatory features.
Explanatory Features of
Interests Explanation
J. What
seems
rational is
actually social
an existing state of
affairs (a philosophical characterization of mathematical practice)
and suggesting that this state is somehow incorrect, wrong or otherwise requires re-examination. To contrast an allegedly incorrect
state of affairs with what is to follow is to claim strong grounds for
justification.54 Thus the interests model argument is claimed to be
an alternative to a deficient philosophical model - or, in terms of
the earlier discussion, a picture of scientists as interest-dopes is to
be substituted for their previous portrayal as rationality-dopes. For
present purposes the important point is that both are alternative
constructions. To replace one by the other misses at least two important questions: what counts as legitimate construction in practical argument; and what counts as adequate grounds for substitution of one construction for another? The central importance of
this initial justification can be assessed by discerning the effects on
the argument of its removal. Without the alternative philosophicalrational version for contrast, the claim for the social character of
science becomes rather mundane. This is evident from MacKenziess
own very candid concluding remarks:
380
Scientific action
is
381
begin with some notion of the nature and variety of desires they will
identify. More importantly, the generation of various desires involves the specification of motives, intentions, underlying concerns
and so on in the light of previously revealed desires. Thus, the
specification of any particular desire is bound to be influenced by
previous interpretations of other actions. But my point is not
simply that the analysts choice of underlying desire is biased (it
would be difficult to imagine what an unbiased choice would look
like). Rather, it is clear that a very large (if not infinite) number of
alternative desires is in principle discernible; the selection and construction of a set of desires from the number potentially available
thus involves complex argumentative work.
If a large number of alternative desires is discernible, how in
practice are we to identify one particular desire as demonstrably
corresponding to the observed action? The answer must be that the
analyst has to specify what it would be rational for the actor to
desire in the prevailing circumstances: in other words, it is
necessary for the analyst to create some rational connection between action and desire. However this is done, it will involve some
judgement as to what is rational. In the example from MacKenzies
account, Pearsons criticism of Yules measure is taken to indicate
his concern to maximize analogies with other statistical measures,
in part because criticizing is reckoned to be a rational course of
action given this concern. It need hardly be pointed out, of course,
that other alternative actions follow rationally from this same
concern: in other words, there is no necessary correspondence between any specfic concern and any particular action. In addition, it
is fairly obvious that other alternative desires could be said to be
the rational antecedent of the same action. Pearsons criticism of
Yule could be said to follow rationally from his (Pearsons) desire
to be bloody-minded.59 This kind of alternative is either considered
and rejected or, more likely, is simply not considered, by virtue of
the influence on the analyst of his interpretation of the prevailing
circumstances in which the action took place. In a similar way, the
construction of a set of desires (step c) seems to involve judgements
as to the rational coherence of that set. Actions and desires will be
added to the set only if they do not conflict with other members of
the set. In general, the analyst will construct a two-way link between action and desire: it is the basis for the initial inference as to
the nature of the desire; at the same time, the desire is used to explain the occurrence of action.
382
one
are
independent
383
to the existence of a set of rules (interests).
he
shows
that
the specification of correspondence beHowever,
tween any particular action and the rule (interests) which it is said
to be following (expressive of) is in principle defeasible. In addition, rules (interests) often implied contradictory courses of action:
that is, a particular action could be explained as being governed
by one rule, even though it contravened another. The invocation of
the rule-governed character of action was reflexive in that it
simultaneously modified the nature of the action and the interpretation of the rule to which it was said to be related.62 Mulkay has
similarly pointed out that the interpretation of scientific action by
recourse to underlying rules (in particular, the norms of science) is
subject to difficulties of interpretation and contradiction.63 Most
importantly, both Wieder and Mulkay note that the issue of correspondence between action and underlying pattern (whether rules,
norms or, in this case, interests) is crucially a matter for the participants involved. The programmatic implication is that we should
develop an understanding of the practical management of correspondence between actions and underlying patterns, rather than
simply engage in unreflective attempts to advance such cor-
explained by appeal
respondences.
Garfinkel notes that the essential reflexivity of accounts is
uninteresting to their proponents.64 By this I take him to mean
that accounting practice depends for its success on the routine
denial of the intimate interdependence between underlying pattern and the scene which is being accounted. Translating this into
terms more apposite to the current discussion, it is necessary for
purposes of successful argument to background65 the constructive
interrelationship between the thing to be explained and the thing
which does the explaining. In other words, an important, if not
crucial, feature of argument in general, and a fortiori of scientific
argument in particular, is that independence be achieved between
explanans and explandum; in the present example, the desires of
the actors have to be made to seem independent of the actions from
which they are created. Only then is it possible to argue for the
prior existence of the desires and hence to imply that the actions
resulted from these pre-existing desires.
How is the independence of interests accomplished? We can shed
some light on this facet of interests model explanations by drawing
a parallel with a recent discussion of the process whereby facts are
constructed in neuroendocrinology.66 Typically, fact construction
384
The real
385
cularity.
4. Multiple instances of action affirm
the independent existence of interests
that any constructed rational connection beprinciple defeasible: that is, it is always
candidate desire which underlies
to
an
alternative
possible propose
a specific instance of action. In the instance of Pearsons criticism
of Yule, for example, the desire to be bloody-minded is one such
suggested alternative to the desire to maximize analogies with existing statistical theory. One strategy for defending the choice of a
particular desire is the citation of other instances of action which
are said to support the initial interpretation as to the underlying
desire.69 Thus, in MacKenzies account, we are told about
Pearsons work in general that it was dominated by its reference to
an existing achievement of statistical theory, the interval level
theory of correlation and regression.10 The reader is asked to
assume that this is the outcome of the interpretation of several
other documents produced by Pearson. The fact that additional
constructive work is necessarily involved in the production of these
auxiliary interpretations is played down in several ways. Firstly,
the reader is not told how many other instances of scientific action
(in this case, examples of Pearsons work) have been consulted. Instead, these instances are characterized as a category, namely
Pearsons work, and the coherence of this category for its
relevance to the overall interpretation is assumed. Secondly, there
is no explicit reference to the construction of interpretations which
must have gone on. The facticity of the interpretation is enhanced
by minimizing or backgrounding the active involvement of the interpreter.&dquo; Sometimes (although not in the present example)
authors adopt a variant of the inversion strategy mentioned above
whereby the facts of the matter are presented as apparent to anyone
who cared to look. In a later part of the paper, for example,
I earlier
suggested
386
MacKenzie refers to what does, I think, emerge from his [Yules]
letters.. :.72 Notice here that MacKenzie himself appears largely
incidental to the process whereby the interpretation of Yules letters
gets done. Fairly obviously, this effect results, in part, from his
avoidance of phrases like what I can construct from Yules letters.
Thirdly, it is implied that the multiple interpretations of different
instances of action have been done in isolation from each other. In
other words, the supposition is that each interpretation is independent of, and hence uninfluenced by, any other. As mentioned
already, it is impossible to make interpretations in complete isolation from other existing interpretations, expectations about what
should be the case, and so on: interpretation is emphatically not
observation-neutral. Nonetheless, attention to this difficulty of
principle is diverted by, for example, stressing the difference between the kinds of source on which multiple interpretations are
based. Thus, in the above case, the underlying personality of Yule
emerges not just from his letters, but also from comments on him
by those who knew him well and from occasional passages in his
writings .73 Fourthly, not only are the resultant set of interpretations created independently, they also turn out to be the same.
That is, each individual interpretation of action is presented as having given rise to the same underlying pattern even though there is
no mention of the criteria employed to determine similarity or difference.
A special case of the multiple interpretation strategy occurs when
particular emphasis is given to the separation in time of actions and
the desires which supposedly underly them. Their presentation as
separated in time enhances the independence of action and underlying desire, and this in turn paves the way for the adequacy of their
causal relationship. Thus the desire purportedly underlying Pearsons criticism of Yule is a desire which was there all along. The
desire (to maximize analogies with existing statistical theory) is proin this case, other work by
posed on the basis of prior action
Pearson. Obviously, the same difficulty of principle applies in proposing a connection between Pearsons prior work and the desire it
is said to reflect. But possible accusations of circularity are
backgrounded because the focus of explanation is the more recent
act of criticizing Yule. The action to be explained (the criticism) is
not directly the basis of the inferred desire.
-
387
5. The relationship between action and interests
is not actually causal
about
examining possible connections between eugenically relevant research and social
interests .... Study of this situation can hopefully illuminate the choices [of individuals such as Pearson and Yule], even if it cannot provide a causal account
of them. 74
are
those
of a collectivity,
388
the putative cause as far as possible from the scene of individual action while nonetheless asserting its pervasive influence.
remove
So
between the needs of eugenic research and the cognitive inmanifested in the development of the theory of association by the
biometric school can be reasonably held to exist, irrespective of the particular
motives of individual members of the school. 75
a
relationship
terests
In
concluding
In
short,
esteem
Conclusion
I began by noting that although the initial proposals of the strong
programme in the sociology of knowledge were unclear as to the
precise form of explanatory account which sociologists should
follow, a larger number of more recent contributions have pursued
interests model explanations. The objective of revealing the social
character of the content of scientific knowledge has been interpreted as a programme of specifying the interests which give rise
to scientists actions. In IGK in particular, we can identify a confusion between (a) the need to focus on knowledge content, and (b)
the adoption of an unexplicated causal-type format for explaining
389
many kinds of
In the second part of this paper, I examined an empirical example of interests explanation. I have shown that the construction of
interests on the basis of actions and their subsequent use in explaining actions entailed an explanatory schema in principle beset by
methodological difficulties. These difficulties were backgrounded,
minimized and otherwise made to seem inconsequential by the use
of various rhetorical and argumentative strategies. I suggest that
the kind of methodological reflection which I am advocating, and
which is tentatively illustrated by my examination of interests explanations, can have a positive pay-off for the social study of
science. Although the particular focus of my analysis here was an
example of the explanatory schema in recent contributions to the
social study of science, it would obviously be highly desirable to apply the same style of analysis to natural science. The central question is: what is the character of the constructive work involved in
scientific argument? More specifically, what counts as legitimate
avoidance of what might otherwise be regarded as insurmountable
philosophical difficulties? How are presentational devices used to
minimize the possibility of critical intervention by others? What
argumentative strategies enable scientists routinely to accomplish
and sustain the rationality of their interpretations in the face of
the ever-present possibility of better alternative interpretations?
At the very least, detailed attention to these kinds of questions may
help redress the current imbalance of overly enthusiastic sociologizing in the social study of science. More importantly, it is by this
kind of approach that we can most fruitfully proceed to realize the
potential of a programme which directs our attention to the very
content of scientific knowledge.
NOTES
I am grateful for the comments and suggestions made by Peter Halfpenny and
Malcolm Spector on their reading an earlier draft of this paper, and for the advice of
anonymous referees.
390
1. See, especially, S.B. Barnes, Scientific Knowledge and Sociological Theory
(SKST) (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974); D. Bloor, Wittgenstein and
Mannheim on the Sociology of Mathematics, Studies in the History and Philosophy
of Science, Vol. 4 (1973), 173-91; Bloor, Knowledge and Social Imagery (KSI) (London : Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1976).
391
book: Neve, The Naturalization of Science, Social Studies of Science, Vol. 10
(1980), 375-91, at 386.
20. D. Matza, Becoming Deviant (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1969),
Chapter 1.
21. Of course, my use of based on belies a complex and yet to be understood
process whereby a version of scientific method is abstracted from scientific practice
for purposes of philosophical discourse.
22. Cf. a dictionary definition of naturalism as an approach to psychology and
social science which assumes that human beings are essentially physico-chemical
systems, and can be studied in exactly the same way as the rest of the physical
world: A. Bullock and O. Stallybrass (eds), The Fontana Dictionary of Modern
Thought (London: Fontana, 1977), 411. Bhaskar similarly speaks of naturalism as
the thesis that there is (or can be) an essential unity of method between the natural
and social sciences: R. Bhaskar, On the Possibility of Social Scientific Knowledge
and the Limits of Naturalism, Journal for the Theory of Social Behaviour, Vol. 8
(1978), 2.
23. In an intriguing statement, Matza writes: The commitment of naturalism, as
I conceive it, is to phenomena and their nature, not to Science or any other system of
standards (op. cit. note 20, 3). At first sight, this formulation seems to provoke a
rather knotty problem as soon as we apply it to the study of science. What happens
if the phenomenon itself is science? But there is in fact no problem if we maintain
the distinction between science as a phenomenon, the character of which is managed
by and made available to participants, and Science as a pre-given system of standards which some (positivist?) researchers would wish to employ as the major
criterion of adequacy of their work.
24. Barnes, IGK, 9.
25. Ibid., 4.
26. IGK can be read as attempting to forge links between recent empirically based
work in the sociology of science and the more theoretical discussion in the sociology
of knowledge. Specifically, Barnes aim is to show that some of the traditional
preoccupations of the sociology of knowledge are of use in analyzing the content of
scientific knowledge. In this respect, the treatment of sociology of knowledge traditions in IGK is admirably more specific than we are generally used to. Another
discussion which relates sociology of knowledge concerns to the possibility of studying scientific content, and which includes a detailed appraisal of some recent empirical contributions in the sociology of science, is M.J. Mulkay, Science and the
Sociology of Knowledge (London: George Allen and Unwin, 1979).
27. It is worth noting that I am not simply recommending a micro as opposed to
macro perspective. It would be misleading to formulate my argument in terms of
this contrast because my main point is directed, not so much against the choice of
level of substantive analysis in interests model explanations, as against the unreflective form of explanation employed. As I hope will become clear, even those interests
explanations which try to explain the details of specific interactions between scientists suffer the same deficiencies of explanatory format which I am attempting to
elucidate.
28. B. Latour and S. Woolgar, Laboratory Life: The Social Construction of
Scientific Facts (Beverly Hills, Calif.: Sage, 1979), Chapter 4; Woolgar, Discovery:
Logic and Sequence in a Scientific Text, in K. Knorr, R. Krohn and R.D. Whitley
(eds), Sociology of the Sciences Yearbook, Vol. 4: The Social Process of Scientific
392
Investigation (Dordrecht: Reidel, 1980), 239-68. Further evidence of a similar kind is
available in some recent ethnographic studies of interaction between scientists in
laboratory settings: I am editing a collection of such studies for future publication as
a Special Issue of Social Studies of Science.
29. Barnes, IGK, 16.
30. Ibid.
31. Ibid., 37.
32. Ibid.
33. Ibid., 35.
34. D. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory and Social Interests: A Case Study, Social
Studies of Science, Vol. 8 (1978), 35-83; B. Barnes and MacKenzie, On the Role of
Interests in Scientific Change, in R. Wallis (ed.), On the Margins of Science: The
Social Construction of Rejected Knowledge (Keele, Staffs.: University of Keele,
Sociological Review Monograph No. 27, 1979), 49-66.
35. Barnes, IGK, 59-63; D. MacKenzie and B. Barnes, Scientific Judgement:
The Biometry-Mendelism Controversy, in Barnes and Shapin (eds), op. cit. note 7,
191-210.
36. S. Shapin, Phrenological Knowledge and the Social Structure of Early
Nineteenth-Century Edinburgh, Annals of Science, Vol. 32 (1975), 219-43; Shapin,
The Politics of Observation: Cerebral Anatomy and Social Interests in the Edinburgh Phrenology Disputes, in Wallis (ed.), op. cit. note 34, 139-78; Shapin,
Homo Phrenologicus, op. cit. note 7, 41-71.
37. B. Wynne, C.G. Barkla and the J Phenomenon: A Case Study in the Treatment of Deviance in Physics, Social Studies of Science, Vol. 6 (1976), 307-47.
38. J. Harwood, The Race-Intelligence Controversy: A Sociological Approach. I
Professional Factors, Social Studies of Science, Vol. 6 (1976), 369-94.
39. A. Pickering, The Role of Interests in High-Energy Physics: The Choice between Charm and Colour, in Knorr et al. (eds), op. cit. note 28, 107-38.
40. J. Dean, Controversy over Classification: A Case Study from the History of
Botany, in Barnes and Shapin (eds), op. cit. note 7, 211-30.
41. See, for example, B. Harvey, The Effects of Social Context on the Process of
Scientific Investigation: Experimental Tests of Quantum Mechanics, in Knorr et al.
(eds), op. cit. note 28, 139-63.
42. D. Wrong, On the Oversocialized Conception of Man in Modern Sociology,
American Sociological Review, Vol. 26 (1961), 183-93.
43. Garfinkel, op. cit. note 4, Chapter 2, 67 ff.
44. This is apart, of course, from the systematic inconsistency evident when these
studies include programmatic claims about the inadequacy of Mannheims sociology
of knowledge. See the discussion in the first part of this paper.
45. Neve, op. cit. note 19, 387.
46. Ibid., 390.
47. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory and Social Interests, op. cit. note 34. Since
completing this paper, MacKenzies work has become available as a book. I have
not been able to take this fuller version into account: see Donald A. MacKenzie,
Statistics in Britain 1865-1930 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1981).
48. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory..., op. cit. note 34, 52.
49. Ibid., 53.
50. Ibid., 60.
51. Ibid., 67.
—
393
52. Latour and Woolgar, op. cit. note 28, esp. Chapter 1.
53. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory ..., op. cit. note 34, 35.
54. This strategy enjoys general usage in sociological argument, most obviously
in the areas of deviance and studies of the media. Typically, a popular stereotype,
for example what-homosexuals-are-like, is used as the strawman in demonstrations
that this stereotype is false or inaccurate. False or inaccurate versions of the actual
state of affairs are then said to arise by virtue of the intrusion of social factors.
55. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory ..., op. cit. note 34, 71.
56. Woolgar, Discovery ..., op. cit. note 28.
57. I am grateful to Herminio Martins and Peter Halfpenny for pointing out that
this algorithm is a variant of the practical syllogism discussed by von Wright: see
G.H. von Wnght, Explanation and Understanding (London: Routledge and Kegan
Paul, 1971); also J. Mannien and R. Tuomela (eds), Essays on Explanation and
point.
69. This of course reflects the common-sense notion that it is always better to
base an interpretation on several different indicators rather than to rely on one. The
sociologists version of this idea appears in some methods texts as an injunction to
engage in triangulation: see, for example, N.K. Denzin, The Research Act
(Chicago: Aldine, 1970), Chapter 12; H.W. Smith, Strategies of Social Research
(Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1975), Chapter 12. While advising in-
394
to triangulate, these texts are less forthcoming about ways of resolving
differences in interpretations which may result. For a preliminary discussion of
some practical problems associated with a multi-method perspective in the sociology
of science, see M.J. Mulkay, Methodology in the Sociology of Science: Some
Reflections on the Study of Radio Astronomy, Social Science Information, Vol. 13
vestigators
(1974), 107-19.
70. MacKenzie, Statistical Theory ...,
Steve
Woolgar is