Intersecting Processes

complexity & change in environment, biomedicine & society

December 29, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Cycles and Epicycles of Action Research: Elaboration and Useful Tools

Elaboration on the Aspects of Action Research
in the Cycles and Epicycles framework.  Tools useful in the different aspects of Action research are described through the links further down in the post.

Evaluation is the systematic study of the effects of actions. You use the results of evaluations — of actions taken before you got involved or in another setting as well as actions you implement — to design new or revised actions and to convince others to implement equivalent actions in other settings. To establish the specific effect of a specific action a comparison is needed of a situation in which the action is taken with one in which it is not, with nothing else varying systematically between the two situations. Such a comparison may be hard to find or achieve. In any case, tightly focused evaluations need to be complemented by broader Inquiry to clarify what warrants change and action in view of what is known about this situation and others like it and to clarify what a potential constituency is.

Constituency building involves getting others to adopt or adapt your action proposals, or, better still, enlisting others to become part of the “you” that shapes, evaluates, and revises any proposals. Adoption/adapatation is helped by succinct presentations to a potential constituency of action proposals and the evaluations and inquiry that supports them. Enlistment is helped by facilitation of “stakeholder” participation in the initial evaluation and inquiry, in formulation of action proposals, and in planning so as to bring about their investment in implementing the proposals. If the actions are personal changes and the constituency is yourself, you can still facilitate your own evaluation and planning process to ensure your investment in the actions. Indeed, constituency building begins with yourself. In order to contribute effectively to change, you need to be engaged—to have your head and heart together. You need to pay attention to what help you need to get engaged and stay so.

Reflection and dialogue are valuable for: ongoing revision of your ideas about the current situation; for generating action proposals; and for drawing more people into your constituency. Through reflection and dialogue you can check that the evaluation and inquiry you undertake about the current situation and past actions relate well to possible actions you are considering and constituencies you intend to build. You can check that the results of your evaluations and inquiry support the actions and constituency building you pursue. You can review what actually happens when an action is implemented and it effects are evaluated and then generate ideas for the next cycle of action research.

Planning involves looking ahead at what may be involved before you settle on what actions to pursue. Planning is strategic when action proposals respect the resources—possibly limited—that you and others in your constituency have and elicit investment in implementation of those actions.


Tools useful in the different aspects of Action Research

  • RD = Reflection and Dialogue
  • CB = Constituency building
  • EI = Evaluation and Inquiry
  • P = Planning
…….. …….. …….. ……..
CheckIn RD CB
ClosingCircle (CheckOut) RD CB
Critical Incident Questionnaire EI
Dialogue Process RD CB
Evaluation Clock (review of past evals) EI
Evaluation Clock (planning future evals) EI P
Focused Conversation RD CB
Gallery Walk RD CB EI
Guided Freewriting RD
Historical scan RD CB
Jig-saw discussion of texts RD EI
KAQF RD EI P
One-on-one consultations in a large group RD CB
+? Feedback RD CB EI
Small group roles RD CB
Statistical Thinking EI
Strategic Participatory Planning RD CB P
Strategic Personal Planning RD P
Supportive listening RD
Think-pair-share RD

Extracted from Taking Yourself Seriously: A Fieldbook of Processes of Research and Engagement

December 28, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Action Research: A cycles and epicycles framework

Action Research begins when you (as an individual or as a group) want to do something to change the current situation, that is, to take action.

  • “Action” refers to many different things: a new or revised curriculum; a new organizational arrangement, policy, or procedure in educational settings; equivalent changes in other professions, workplaces, or communities; changes in personal practices, and so on.

Action Research then progresses through stages of Planning and Implementing some Action to Evaluation of its Effects, that is, Research to show what ways the situation after the action differs from the way it was before.
ARcyclingIIICbasic.jpg

To this traditional cycle of Action Research we can add reflection and dialogue through which you review and revise the ideas you have about what action is needed and about how to build a constituency to implement the change. Your thinking about what the situation is and what needs changing can also be altered by inquiring into the background (e.g., what motivates you to change this situation?) as well as looking ahead to future stages. Constituency-building happens over time like the basic cycle of Action Research, so we can think of this a second cycle. The other additions, however, often make us go back and revisit what had seemed clear and settled, so we can call these the “epicycles” (i.e., cycles on top of cycles) of action research.
ARcyclingIIIC.jpg

In what follows, I expand on this brief introduction, then in the next post elaborate on the key Aspects of Action Research and list the Tools useful in the different aspects of Action Research. This text is deliberately brief–a summary more than a detailed guide–because it is primarily through experience conducting Action Research and practice using the tools that the interplay between the cycles and epicycles become clear. (See also a step-by-step presentation of this framework).

Again, Action Research begins when you (as an individual or as a group) want to do something to change the current situation, that is, to take action. To move from a broad idea of the action you think is needed to a more refined and do-able proposal, you may need to review evaluations of the effects of past actions (including possibly evaluations of actions you have made) and to conduct background inquiry so you can take into account other relevant considerations (e.g., who funds or sponsors these kinds of changes and evaluations). You also have to get people—yourself included—to adopt or adapt your proposals, that is, you have to build a constituency for any actions. Constituency building happens when you draw people into reflection, dialogue, and other participatory processes that elicit ideas about the current situation, clarify objectives, and generate ideas and plans to take action to improve it; when people work together to implement actions; and when people see evaluations of how good the actions/changes were in achieving the objectives. Evaluation of the effects of a change or action can lead to new or revised ideas about further changes and about how to build a constituency around them, thus stimulating ongoing cycles of action research.
These cycles are not a steady progression one step to the next. Reflection and dialogue “epicycles” at any point can lead to you to revisit and revise the ideas you had about what change is needed and about how to build a constituency to implement the change. Revision also happens when, before you settle on what actions to pursue, you move “backwards” and look at evaluations of past actions and conduct other background inquiry. Revision can also happen when you look ahead at what may be involved in implementing or evaluating proposed actions and building a constituency around them. Such looking ahead is one of the essential features of planning.

In summary, action research involves evaluation and inquiry, reflection and dialogue, constituency building, looking ahead and revision in order to clarify what to change, get actions implemented, take stock of the outcomes, and continue developing your efforts.

Of course, as is the case with all evaluations and research more generally, there is no guarantee that the results of Action Research will influence relevant people and groups (“stakeholders”), but constituency building–including dialogue and reflection on the implications of the results–provides a good basis for mobilizing support and addressing (potential) opposition in the politics of applied research and evaluation.

Extracted from Taking Yourself Seriously: A Fieldbook of Processes of Research and Engagement

December 27, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Making connections and respecting differences: Reconciling schemas for learning and group process

In the fall of 1996 in Columbus, Ohio I attended the meetings of the International Society for Exploring Teaching Alternatives (ISETA) for the first time. I was encouraged to connect with this group after “experiencing” a presentation by the current ISETA president, Ken Brown, on experiential learning, in which he elicited the audience’s involvement in ways that exemplified his topic. My path to attending Ken Brown’s presentation began when I prepared a portfolio on my teaching two years ago (Taylor 1995). This led me to become more self-conscious about how I have been teaching and learning to teach, and by seeking out others who write and talk about teaching/learning processes I have gained many new ideas and encouragement.

At the ISETA meetings I encountered several different schemas for thinking about learning and/or group process: Kolb’s learning styles (via Tania Reese), Jungian/ Myer-Briggs personality types (via Susan Moncada), and Focused Conversations from the Institute of Cultural Affairs (ICA, via Ken Brown). Before I jumped into using these in my teaching I wanted to explore the interrelationships among these and some other schemas. This thought-piece summarizes my exploration. So far, this has been mostly conceptual, which says something about my own learning preferences.

Having received initial responses to a draft of this thought-piece, I am now more aware of the wealth of experience other have made available concerning a wider number of schemas learning preferences and their interrelations (Woods 1996). I decided not, however, to keep my thoughts to myself until I had more experience to ground them. I think that the picture I sketch below is richer and has more practical implications for what I might call “supportive learning in collective endeavors” than typically result from using schemas regarding individual learning preferences. In particular, the “re-evaluative” emphasis that emerges below provides, I think, new avenues for or angles on using learning preferences in classes and other groups.

In Focused Conversations (Spencer 1989) a group, which could be a class, a grass roots activist organization, or a business, addresses some challenging or difficult situation by proceeding through four stages:

1. Objective (getting the facts)

2. Reflective (eliciting feelings and associations)

3. Interpretive (consider the meaning and significance)

4. Decisional (formulating a decision or an action)

Participants who jump quickly to a decision or interpretation are encouraged to spend more time on the earlier stages, to be careful to separate facts from feelings, and to recognize at each step the different assessments of other participants. The result is not necessarily a consensus, but because the group shares a common pool of experiences of the situation, decisions reached by a group tend to be acted upon. In an educational setting, these steps could be expressed as: 1. What happened? 2. What feelings did this evoke? 3. What have you learned? 4. How can you use it?

The four stages of a Focused Conversation correspond in one reading to the four points or stages on a cycle of learning, in which learners move from experiences to concepts which open them up to new experiences (Kolb 1984):

1. Concrete Experience (CE) = Objective

2. Reflective Observation (RO) = Reflective

3. Abstract Conceptualization (AC) = Interpretive

4. Active Experimentation (AE) = Decisional.

In another reading, however, the Kolbian stages are equated to learning styles, based on the recognition that some people’s style leads them to one stage over or before others. In other words, unlike a Focused Conversation, the Concrete Experience/ Objective stage would not necessarily come first for all people.

One way to reconcile these two readings would be to counsel people on the diversity of learning “preferences.” First, of course, people have to identify or discover their preferences, and recognize that there are people with different preferences. Then, at each stage of a learning process, people have to be respectful and patient of others and of themselves, especially if this stage is not their preferred one. In the spirit of Focused Conversations, some unexpected learning experiences and improved group outcomes will result from resisting the tendency people have to jump to and begin with their preferred stage in the cycle.

Kolb’s learning preferences (as I will now call them) can be aligned on two axes:

I. Intake: CE at one pole, AC at the other

II. Processing: AE at one pole, RO at the other.

(This alignment is possible presumably only because people are rarely (never?) high on both AE and RO; similarly for CE and AC.) These two axes corresponds to two of the four divisions of Jungian/ Myers-Briggs personality types (Jensen and DiTiberio 1989):

I. Ways of taking in information: Sensing vs. INtuition = CE<->AC

II. Ways of focusing one’s energy: Extravert vs. Intravert = AE<->RO

This correspondence looks neat, with the qualification that, in practice, Kolbian preferences are more changeable than M-B types (Woods 1996). In any case, there are two other two Jungian/M-B divisions, namely:

III. Ways of approaching tasks in the outer world: Judging vs. Perceiving

IV. Ways of making decisions: Thinking vs. Feeling

What has happened to them in Focused Conversations and Kolbian learning preferences?

Before attempting to answer that question, I want to introduce the particular incarnation of Jungian/M-B types that I first encountered in teaching writing “through the curriculum.” In this context, the four M-B divisions become four contrasts in writing preferences (LeGendre, n.d.):

I. Conceptual focus: Factual vs. Theoretical

II. Ways of generating ideas: Active vs. Reflective

III. Time/idea management: Focused vs. Inclusive

IV. Attitudes toward audience: Objective vs. Personal

These labels and divisions warrant elaboration, but for the purposes here I want only to mention two things:

i) I advise students to use information about their writing preferences along the following lines: These preferences are not idiosyncratic; you have strengths that can be defined and capitalized on, and weaknesses that can be identified and addressed. Do not typecast yourself. You will find certain assignments and certain teachers difficult and others more congenial, but you will miss out on a lot of learning of you simply avoid what/who appears difficult (LeGendre n.d.)

ii) This advice could let me off the hook leaving it to students to adjust to whatever kind of teaching is dished out. But it is not meant to; instead, I have come to acknowledge that my courses emphasize Abstract Conceptualization (following my theoretical preference). More and more I work with teaching assistants and peer groups to create learning situations and a learning community that balances my emphasis and supports students who have preferences different from me. In the future I plan to make more use of Focused Conversations to resist my tendency (evidenced in this very contribution to Connexions) to move quickly from a text or a situation to Abstract Conceptualization.

Let me now return to the question of the Jungian/M-B types apparently missing from Kolbian learning preferences. I have two suggestions for reconciling the different schemas:

i) Prior to a Focused Conversation, work is done in establishing the very arena in which the group is to operate. That work might correspond to axis III, Ways of approaching tasks in the outer world (Judging vs. Perceiving), or, equivalently, Time/idea management (Focused vs. Inclusive). Similarly, there is more to be done than the group just deciding and acting; there are connections to be made with audience and potential co-actors. That might correspond to axis IV, Ways of making decisions (Thinking vs. Feeling), or, perhaps more clearly, attitudes toward audience (Objective vs. Personal).

ii) The two Kolbian axes are a simplification of personality types, so it makes sense that other dimensions of personality can be identified. (There are sixteen permutations of the Jungian/M-B types alone, and hundreds if additional schemas are considered; Woods 1996) We should extend to include the other two non-Kolbian dimensions the general advice given above about how to use knowledge of one’s learning preferences. That is, be respectful and patient of others or of yourself when proceeding through a less preferred learning stage (or step in a Focused Conversation). In such a space of patience and respect for differences, there will often be some unexpected learning experiences and connections made. In this spirit, it is important that preferences are not used as static and self-reinforcing labels.

A non-ISETA connection in Columbus helped me think more about the issue of attending to differences in the ways people move through the world. Brenda Dervin, in the Department of Communication at Ohio State, has developed a “Sense-Making” approach to the development of information seeking and use. Given its diverse applications and implications (Dervin 1996) one might even call it a paradigm. One finding from Sense-Making research is that people make much better sense of seminar presentations and other scholarly contributions when these are accompanied by contextual information along the following lines:

a) The reason(s) I took this road is (are)…

b) The best of what I have achieved is…

c) What has been particularly helpful to me in this project has been…

d) What has hindered me, what I have struggled with has been…

e) What would help me now is…

The same thinking leads to recommendations about forms of response that presenters learn most from — and listeners also. The following format both acknowledges different voices and facilitates connections:

a) I appreciated…

b) I learned…

c) I wanted to know more about…

—–

d) I struggled with…

e) I would have been helped by…

f) My project connects with this in the following way(s)…

—–

g) I disagreed with…

h) I think the presenter should consider…

I see a strong relation between such questions and Focused Conversations, but the relation is not obvious. The questions do not map readily onto steps in a Focused Conversation, and instead seem to emphasize the interpretive or reflective levels. Nevertheless, experience with Sense-Making suggests that the process enables people to re-evaluate their customary or habitual responses, to acknowledge without becoming blocked by the emotional valences in scholarly interaction. Appreciations, for example, can be given more directly or “objectively,” with less distortion by premature interpretations and evaluations. It is in this re-evaluative sense that Focused Conversations and Sense-Making appear to me to be allied. In this spirit, I chose the order and grouping for the eight questions above to form an analog of a Focused Conversation; a, b, c corresponding to step 1; d, e, f, step 2; and g, h, step 3.

Of course, it is easier to propose Sense-Making formats for contextualization and responses than it is to get colleagues to use them. One of the advantages we have when teaching is that students are more willing than colleagues to go along with our experiments in group process. Once students have experienced processes such as Focused Conversations and Sense-Making, they generally appreciate their value. Or, one might say, they then have concrete experience that can disturb any pre-judgements and pre-interpretations.

Let me draw connections with one last schema. Soon after returning from Columbus I came across cognitive psychologist, Martin Seligman’s, Learned Optimism. As an alternative or complement to both psychotherapeutic and psychopharmaceutical treatments for depression, Seligman advocates the “ABCDE” method for overcoming pessimistic or negative thought patterns that lead to depression:

A. Identify some current situation of apparent Adversity.

B. Spell out your Beliefs and feelings about your role in causing the situation.

C. Spell out the Consequences.

If the picture drawn through A, B, and C is bleak,

D. Dispute B and C: Check the evidence — is it factually correct or complete? Consider alternative causes, especially specific, non-personal, changeable ones. Consider less bleak implications or consequences. Is the belief, even if true, helpful in this situation?

This disputation usually allows the depressed person to move to the last step

E. Become Energized and pursue a course of action against the now-lessened adversity.

In Seligman’s A, B, C we see a quick slide from facts, through feelings and interpretation to the non-action that characterizes depression. However, D, like Focused Conversations, takes one back to reevaluate the situation, move more carefully through the steps, and entertain alternative facts, feelings and interpretations. The result, E, is usually an action that is do-able.

To me, all these schemas begin to fit together and I am now looking forward to experimenting with them in my future teaching. Yet, in the past I have sometimes overwhelmed my students with conceptual schemas, regarding both the course content and its learning processes. My challenge now is to provide more time, space, and support for my students to articulate their concrete experiences, feelings, associations, and interpretations of course material and activities. The integration of these different stages of the learning conversation should strengthen their confidence in becoming critical thinkers. And this should soften the inevitable anxieties that arise when they have to respond to new situations knowing that the teacher will not act as the final arbiter of their success (Taylor 1995).

In this spirit of not getting ahead of myself — or of not letting my AC get ahead of my CE, RO and AE –, I welcome from ISETAns and other readers concrete experiences, gut-responses, and interpretations that might complement or complicate this attempt at conceptual reconciliation. Finally, I hope the Sense-Making contextualization at the start and end of this thought-piece was not too subtle to be helpful. In any case, I would also be very pleased if readers sent me Sense-Making responses.

Peter Taylor (an NIPT, with a very high Kolbian AC; see text for explanation)

Acknowledgements

This thought-piece was published in “Connexions,” ISETA newsletter, March & July 1997.  The thinking expressed in this piece had been furthered by the comments of Ken Brown, Gwen Mills (then a student at Cornell University), and Don Woods (editor of “PS News, A Sharing of Ideas about Problem Solving”; email him for subscription information at woodsdr@mcmaster.ca). And, of course, I was greatly stimulated by attending the ISETA meetings. (Information about ISETA, now ISETL, is available online.)

Literature Cited

Dervin, B. (1996). “Chaos, order, and sense-making: A proposed theory for information design,” in Robert Jacobson (ed.) Information Design. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Also available (as of 21 May 1996) at http://edfu.lis.uiuc.edu/allerton/95/s5/dervin.draft.html.

Jensen, G. H. and J. K. DiTiberio (1989). Personality and the Teaching of Composition. Norwood, NJ: Ablex.

Kolb, D. A. (1984) Experiential Learning. Englewood Cliffs. NJ: Prentice-Hall.

LeGendre, B. n.d. “Exploring your writing preferences.” Mimeo, Cornell University Writing Workshop, Ithaca, NY.

Seligman, M. (1991). Learned Optimism. New York: A. E. Knopf.

Spencer, L. J. (1989). Winning Through Participation. Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt.

Taylor, P. J. (1995). http://www.faculty.umb.edu/peter_taylor/portfolio-TOC.html

Woods, D. R. (1996) “Student learning styles,” PS 104. Newsletter printed by the Department of Chemical Engineering, McMaster University, Hamilton, Ontario, Canada.

December 26, 2010
by peter.taylor
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One-on-one consultations within a group that meets over an extended period

One-on-one consultations within a group that meets over an extended period (aka Workshop “Office Hours”)—an alternative to the ad hoc, and clique-prone discussions that often happen between the sessions at conferences and workshops

This activity can be slotted into a meeting or workshop when there is 45-60 minutes to spare. It may be repeated with a new sign up sheet for each time.

Rationale
• Provides opportunities to solicit advice one on one.
• It can be enlightening to see who asks you for advice and what you find yourself able to say.

Instructions about Signing Up
(Before circulating this sign-up sheet, the coordinator of this activity fills in the left-hand column with everyone’s names.)
• You can sign up to consult with other people by putting your name on their line for a time slot that is empty for both of you. Then put a cross on your own line for that time slot (which prevents someone signing up to consult with you at the same time).
• Give everyone a chance to sign up once before you sign up for a second or third consult.
• If you want to sign up to consult with a person who is already signed up to consult with you, sign up in a separate time slot for a consult with them. (That is, don’t assume that you can split the original time with them.)

Person to be consulted (below) Time Slot 1 Time Slot 2 Time Slot 3

More Logistics/Guidelines
• If two people do not have a consultation for any time slot, the office-hours coordinator will pair them up and they will split the time in mutual support. Suggested “supportive listening” guidelines can be provided before the office hours start.

• There will be N/2 “stations” consisting of a pair of chairs. (These stations will be spaced widely to minimize distractions from other conversations). At the start of the time slot, find the person you signed up to consult with and move to a vacant station. Then start consulting!

extracted from Taking Yourself Seriously: A Fieldbook of Processes of Research and Engagement

 

December 25, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Biology says human life does not begin at conception.

Biology says human life does not begin at conception.  The sperm and the egg are already living, functioning, human entities.  They are certainly not dead; nor are they non-human.  Yuval Levin (“A Middle Ground for Stem Cells“) could, therefore, extend his “profound moral case” for equality to every sperm and every egg.  In vitro fertilization gives most eggs a chance—a right?—to be fertilized and move into the next phase of living.

As a matter of public policy, this extension of Levin would require colossal interference in the menstrual lives of females.  (And the right of every sperm to continue living-let’s not spell out what that would entail!)  Society would then need to decide which women would then be implanted with those fertilized eggs—even in Levin’s “age of biotechnology” embryos need a women’s womb to develop until birth.  And to decide who would then look after these human lives, given that every baby needs nurturing adults to grow and develop as a person…

I doubt that Levin wants the logic of his argument to be played out this way.  But doing so exposes the political position taken by most people who oppose stem cell research on so-called moral grounds, namely, support for laws that subordinate the lives of women to the embryos they may not always choose to carry.  No bioethical or “moral” considerations can make this position just.

(an unpublished letter to the editor in response to A Middle Ground for Stem Cells)

December 24, 2010
by peter.taylor
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An (imaginary) exchange with Eysenck about meritocracy

Taylor [T]: Why are you so concerned about genetic determination of mental ability?

Eysenck [E]: If abilities are determined by birth and society can predict who will be naturally talented, then it can allocate its resources more efficiently, for example, through separation of school children into separate tracks.

T: Why not test young people and use the results to make such predictions—then we can forget the issue of where their abilities originate?  You have, after all, been a life-long proponent of mental testing.

E: If abilities are biologically inherited and society is meritocratic, then elites are biological elites.

T: And so…?

E:  Rather than wait until children are old enough to be tested for intelligence, we can allocate resources from birth onward according to their parents’ status.

T:  High status parents already do that.  Wouldn’t someone who does not believe in meritocracy—someone who prefers a system that perpetuates privilege—also support the practice you propose?

E: The difference is that I would use intelligence tests at eleven, sixteen, and so on to check that the right children have been placed on the advanced tracks.

T:  Then, again, why not simply use such testing and forget the heredity issues?—especially given that parental intelligence is an imperfect predictor of offspring intelligence.

E:   Even if starting to track children at an early age leads to some errors, it is probably a more efficient allocation of educational resources.

T:  Efficient for whom?—You must know that tracking in practice means more than providing different kinds of education;  time and again it has resulted in unequal allocation of resources (Oakes 2005).

E:  That does not have to be the case.

T:  Maybe not, but unless you can show that unequal allocation has never been the case in the past, how could you show that the current “pyramidal structure” of society is due to “inherited inequalities in mental ability”?

Extracted fromTaylor, P. “Why was Galton so concerned about ‘regression to the mean’? -A contribution to interpreting and changing science and society” DataCritica, 2(2): 3-22, 2008, http://www.datacritica.info/ojs/index.php/datacritica/article/view/23/29.

Reference

Oakes, J. (2005) Keeping track: How schools structure inequality. New Haven: Yale University Press.

December 23, 2010
by peter.taylor
3 Comments

Reconstructing Rawls IX: Toward a political theory of injustice

Toward a political theory of injustice (completing a series of posts)

In listing of the burdens of building a theory of justice upon a basis of moral justification I have foreshadowed alternative approaches to questions of justice and injustice.  This by no means amounts to an alternative theory, but it does indicate some of the dimensions of the project required.  It should be clear that our attention needs to turn outwards, away from the individual moral or rational actor, towards the processes of social production and reproduction that facilitate or constrain action.  The boundaries of relevant inquiries expand enormously, perhaps disappearing over our intellectual horizons.  The appropriate concepts and methodologies for exploring the heterogeneous complexity of considerations are not obvious or well developed.  Furthermore, in the spirit of social constructivism, any claims of “appropriateness” require us to consider the location, background, and favored actions of the theory’s expositor.  The complexity of considerations then multiplies further.

This complexity leads me to withdraw my earlier concession that a definition of justice is needed to oppose injustice.  Clearly, it is not very helpful to command a football team simply to move toward the touch-down line.  There are many different sequences of co-ordinated moves by the players that may achieve the same end result, each depending on the co-ordinated responses of the other team to these moves.  Similarly, once we accept that social and economic arrangements are complex, involving conflict and the exercise of power, and that change requires changes in social processes not just in possession of social goods, then a definition of justice will not be very helpful.  There can be no pre-set instructions for climbing a hill with justice at the summit, for not only do individual actions and their collective summation change the shape of the many-peaked landscape, but actions have manifold consequences, reverberating out along different “webs.”  Even the most abstract and elegant theory has little impact without its expositor building in their work on diverse social and institutional arrangements, and, thus, at the same time reproducing those arrangements.  To march steadily toward an ideal of justice requires one to ignore the web one is walking on and the baggage one is carrying.  In fact, the most general burden that moral philosophers carry may be a commitment to unitary rationality, for this obstructs their appreciation of diverse and contingently constructed subjectivities.  (Anti-foundationalists, such as Fish (1989) advance a similar critique, but see note below.)

Clearly these are bold, bald statements, and are unlikely, without a great deal more argument, to move moral theorists to retool and alter radically their chosen enterprise.  After all, what I have called burdens can be interpreted as facilitating the actions of most moral theorists.  Moreover, overcoming the burdens of moral theory is not a matter of voluntarily choosing to adopt the alternatives outlined here.  Instead, it requires social reconstruction.  Living, working, and representing require any agent — intellectual or activist — to face many practical issues.  From the perspective of heterogeneous constructivism, we must harness many, diverse resources in order to act and any resource, in turn, constrains future possibilities.  Changing our lives, work, and representations requires mobilizing different resources (Taylor 1992, 1995; cf. the anti-normative position of Fish 1989).  The project(s) of illuminating what you want to call injustice, so you can oppose and undermine it, may be better served by articulating the many interconnected practical issues.  Given the political construction of injustice, substitution of moral for political analysis mystifies the diverse processes involved in social change.  And whom, to end on a moral tone, does that serve?[1]

References
Fish, S. (1989).  “Anti-Foundationalism, Theory Hope, and the Teaching of Composition,” pp. 343-355 in S. Fish, Doing What Comes Naturally:  Change, Rhetoric, and the Practice of Theory in Literary and Legal Studies.  Durham and London: Duke University Press

MacIntyre, A. (1984).  After virtue : a study in moral theory.  Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press

Taylor, P.  (1992).  “Re/constructing socio-ecologies:  System dynamics modeling of nomadic pastoralists in sub-Saharan Africa,” in A. Clarke and J. Fujimura (eds.) The Right Tool for the Job:  At work in twentieth century life sciences.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press.

—— (1995). “Building on construction: An exploration of heterogeneous constructionism, using an analogy from psychology and a sketch from socio-economic modeling.” Perspectives on Science 3:66-98.


[1] Various contingencies intervened between the original acceptance of this paper and submission of the revised version for publication, providing more than enough time for me to draw on a wider literature and refine my position.  In deciding, however, to preserve the rhetorical position of newcomer-outsider I drew reinforcement from Alisdair MacIntyre, who in After Virtue (a work also criticizing moral philosophy for abstracting “arguments from social and historical contexts of activity and enquiry”, observes that “much contemporary analytic writing [consists of] passages of argument in which the most sophisticated logical and semantic techniques available are deployed in order to secure maximal rigor alternate with passages which seem to do no more than cobble together a set of loosely related arbitrary preferences” (MacIntyre 1984, p. 267).

December 22, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Reconstructing Rawls VIII: The burdens of moral justification

The burdens of moral justification

My reconstruction+ of Rawls’ TJ has led us to a place where questions can be raised that challenge moral theory more generally.  The inferred justification for foundationalist rhetoric given before the interlude, namely, the power of traditional expectations of the discipline of philosophy is not so powerful or satisfying to someone outside the discipline, not socialized in its tradition.  A political activist, for example, might justify redistribution and equalizing opportunity quite directly, without constructing an argument from moral foundations:  “I have decided to ally myself with the most disadvantaged people,” the activist could say, “supporting their struggle against those exploiting them, and their aim of ending this exploitation and ensuring that it is not reconstituted.”  An obvious moral philosophical response to the political partisan’s stated sympathies is that they are not a justification.  The activist’s synthetic statement must be broken down into basic principles so that it is clear what “exploitation” and “alliance” mean, and what forms of “struggle” are acceptable.  How, moral philosophers would conclude, can one oppose injustice without a justifiable account of justice?

Let me agree for now that a definition of justice is needed to oppose injustice.  Indeed, making any argument without recourse to foundationalist rhetoric is, in general, quite difficult.  Nevertheless, giving priority to moral justification while leaving the social context in the background, scarcely analyzed, burdens our thinking about in/justice in several ways.  In identifying these burdens or limitations my aim is to build a check-list of alternative requirements for an account of in/justice that departs from two-step moral theory.

1)  Individualism vs. socio-economic analysis.  One reason given for unpacking synthetic statements about injustice and for justifying rules of justice in terms of fundamental moral principles is that, when these principles are clarified, people are able to base their actions and design their institutions upon those principles.  This reasoning implies a belief that action originates in individuals, that people’s actions are internally driven rather than shaped by the structures of social life.  In contrast to this individualist assumption, we might develop analyses of how economic and social arrangements, including those related to gender, structure possibilities for effective action, and of how those structures are reproduced (always imperfectly) through the actions people take (Sewell 1992).

The significance of the contrast between individual and social based analysis can be illustrated by criticizing a thought experiment that seems typical of moral philosophy.  Feinberg ([1975], 1989, p. 113) claims that we would decline the devil’s offer to live in utopia if the offer were conditioned on accepting the eternal torture, even if out-of-sight, of just one individual.  However, every day we consume the fruits of labor carried out in political circumstances that involve coercion, repression, and at times torture.  In the devil’s bargain the consequences are clear and we can imagine being that one tortured individual.  However, contrary to Feinberg’s thought experiment, when our view of the suffering individuals is obscured or refracted through complex socio-economic pathways, our moral principles do not seem to be translatable into clear courses of action.

2)  Human nature vs. moral situatedness.  The focus on individuals as the source of action also tends to lead to an emphasis on the fundamental nature of people.  We find elaborate discussions of whether justice or, more generally, social co-operation can be based on self-interest, or instead require some moral motivation irreducible to self-interest (Barry 1989).  In accounts where some moral motivation is needed, anxiety about the vulnerability of justice to disruption by egoistic free-riders can be detected.  Barry (1989), for example, bolsters his use of a moral motivation by claiming that the dependency which every baby and child experience makes it natural.  From a different angle, communitarian and feminist moral theorists argue that self-interest does not exist prior to and independently of the community one lives in (Held 1987).  Thus, self-interest is not human nature; interdependency is fundamental and so morality and cooperation are possible if the community creates the right circumstances.

The argument against equating human nature with self-interest can be extended, however, in a way that shifts the emphasis away from human nature.  Suppose we admit that societies are morally ambiguous, that self-interestedness and self-sacrifice are both observable and we will not be able to find one original, later distorted, moral essence.  This requires us to examine the circumstances in which people act.  For example, instead of explaining Mother Theresa’s charitable activities in terms of her saintliness, we might examine the institutions of the Catholic Church in India that make a life of service to others possible.  We might analyze the forces pushing peasants from rural villages to urban slums that create the need for such charity.  Similarly, consider Lech Walesa, the trade unionist who risked his freedom and maybe his life in the heyday of Solidarity, and compare him with Lech Walesa, who, as President of Poland became increasingly autocratic.  If we assumed that a fundamental change in personality accounts for the shift we would miss the opportunity to make sense of the enormous charges in the situation in which Walesa has been acting.  Of course, some people are generally more egoistic than others, or seek out situations in which their self-interestedness predominates.  Nevertheless, speculating about some ahistorical, asocial human nature steers us away from an interesting challenge, namely, to explain the existence and persistence of situations that inhibit or facilitate moral actions.

3)  Universality vs. partisanship in conflicts.  Another reason for philosophical justification of a conception of justice is to give it greater weight than one’s mere personal opinion.  If rules of justice can be shown to be based on widely held moral principles then it would seem easier to gain support for the implementation of justice.  Indeed, the successes of organizations such as Amnesty International and of campaigns for human rights lend credibility to the strategy of non-partisan, universalist appeals to justice.

Universality is, however, a more complex issue.  The search for universality often yields abstract and quite unspecific principles.  These have little power of implementation and provide little insight about how to face the conflict of interests that characterize social life (see, in contrast, Young 1990).  Moral theory is weak on justification for taking sides and on examining whose interests are spared from dispute by intellectuals attempting to stand apart from partisanship.  From a constructivist+ viewpoint, it would be interesting to examine the recent historical record to discern the extent to which appeals to universal values gain significance only when direct challenges to dominant interests are untenable, having been suppressed or persistently ignored.  In those circumstances, but not more generally, non-partisanship, universality, individualism, and lack of socio-economic analysis might be an appropriate political tactic, albeit representing a substantial accommodation to power.

4)  Possessions vs. activities and relationships as the source of satisfaction.  A further accommodation, in this case to the prevailing patterns of ownership, production, and consumption, is evident in moral theory’s emphasis on distribution of social goods.  Rawls and most of his critics are aware of the non-material sources of satisfaction and self-respect, yet the model emerging from most moral theory is one of quantifiable, possessable and thus distributable goods.  Satisfactions embedded in activities and relationships, such as making collective decisions, developing skills, and living healthily, are not well-addressed within the “distributive paradigm” (Young 1990).  Yet activities and relationships help generate the conditions in which individuals can be said to have rights, to be given opportunities, and to be able to exercise capacities.  The static, ahistorical notion of possession of rights, opportunities, capacities, when combined with the reduction of social and economic complexity to transactions among individuals (or analogous units), provides little guidance about how to analyze on-going social processes.  The unitary materialist metric (embodied, for example, in the Difference Principle) privileges self-interested choice, so that it can appear to be a fundamental consideration in defining justice, even in accounts where self-interest is conceived of as an obstacle to justice.  Rawls’ TJ framework, even after my reconstruction, reflects the dominance of the model of possessable goods and economically “rational” individuals.  (See Roberts (1979), Marginson (1988), Watt (1988) and Young (1990) for more detailed critiques.)

5)  Ideal speech situations vs. the blocking of inquiry.  There is an affinity between moral philosophers expounding fundamental moral principles to which all reasonable people could agree, and Habermasians building social theory around an ideal of a power-free speech situation (Habermas 1990; see also Ackerman 1980).  The participants in the ideal speech situation are free to bring any underlying commitments to the surface, into the dialogue; the participants in Rawls’ Original Position would have their particular interests blanked out by the Veil of Ignorance.  In both cases we are asked to imagine what it would be like if power were removed from negotiations or transactions between people.  The burden of this orientation is that our attention is drawn away from the ways that people use their power to block inquiries into their particular interests.  Instead of developing an analysis of the intricacies of power-infused interactions, such interactions become seen merely as a departure from the desired ideal situation, which remains the focus of the moral/social philosophizing.

(next post)

References

Ackerman, B. A. (1980). Social justice in the liberal state.  New Haven: Yale University Press.

Barry, B.  (1989).  A Treatise on Social Justice, Volume I:  Theories of Justice.  Berkeley: University of California Press.

Feinberg, Joel (1989).  “Rawls and Intuitionism,” pp. 108-123 in N. Daniels (ed).  Reading Rawls:  Critical Studies on Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  Stanford: Stanford University Press.

Habermas, J. (1990).  Moral consciousness and communicative action.  Cambridge, MA: MIT Press.

Held, V. (1987).  “Feminism and Moral Theory,” pp. 111-128 in E. Kittay and D. Meyers (eds.) Women and Moral Theory.  Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield.

Marginson, S. (1988).  “The economically rational individual.”  Arena 84: 105-114.

Roberts, A. (1979).  The Self-Managing Environment.  London: Allison & Busby.

Sewell, W. (1992). “A theory of structure: Duality, agency and transformation,” American Journal of Sociology 98: 1-29.

Watt, J. (1988).  “John Rawls and Human Welfare.”  Radical Philosophy 49: 3-9.

Young, I.M. (1990).  Justice and the politics of difference.  Princeton: Princeton University Press.

December 21, 2010
by peter.taylor
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Reconstructing Rawls VII: Constructivism+ in relation to other Critiques within Moral Philosophy

Interlude: Constructivism+ in relation to other Critiques within Moral Philosophy (continuing a series of posts)

The constructivist+ interpretation I have been developing is broadly sympathetic with feminist formulations of moral theory (Card 1991, Kittay and Meyers 1987), with post-modern, anti-foundationalist critiques of moral theory (Engelhardt 1989), and with feminist ethical analyses of real life issues (mentioned in the introduction).  Each of these forms of critique incorporates constructivist references to social background.  Feminist moral theory finds male bias in the foundations of conventional theory.  The post-modern argument that moral foundations cannot be universal is primarily made on philosophical grounds, but subsequently interprets claims for universality as privileging some particular social group or moral community.  And, likewise, feminist analysts of real life ethics are being constructivists when they argue that applications of moral principles should be situational, requiring a great deal of attention to social conditions (Purdy 1992).

A thoroughgoing constructivism+ differs, however, from each of these critiques in interpreting moral foundations, principles, and applications to be jointly constructed, in which the content and weight of each level is influenced by the social background of the particular moral philosophical project.  Feminist moral theory has in general been motivated by and drawn critical insight from opposition to the male domination of society and of the profession of philosophy.  But, more than this, its alternative foundations, such as, caring and interdependency among people, has been most plausible to those who have this oppositional orientation and promote the values traditionally or rhetorically associated with women, such as attention to relationships.  The receptivity of post-modernists to pluralism in moral principles and to standpoint relativity of applications, and the emphasis of certain feminists on specific applications rather than abstract foundational argument both invite social interpretation as well, although generalizing about the social background of these projects in more difficult.

A further development in the constructivist perspective follows from the multiplication of connections among foundations, principles, applications, and social background that began to appear in the previous sections (see figure 2).  On one hand, an idea of direct causality of ideas is connoted by the links drawn in figures 1 and 2, the emphasis on society-writ-large, and the language used in my interpretations of Rawls:  Because Rawls wanted, I proposed, to distance his project from fascism and communism he insisted on the Priority of Liberty; liberty could not be foregone or denied in return for greater welfare.  On the other hand, a less direct view of causality of ideas is suggested by the multiplication of connections, by invoking of society at more micro-levels, e.g., of a person making a career in philosophy, and by the tensions displayed among various elements of Rawls’ project.  Developing this second emphasis, constructivists+ might talk less of causes and influences and instead of “heterogeneous resources” (Latour 1987, Taylor 1995) that are harnessed to support a theory of a course of action — citations, reputations of colleagues, authority of the classics, metaphors, logical tightness of argument, funding, rhetorical devices, career considerations, and so on.

My original interpretive proposition, that views of social actions are built into philosophical arguments, can now be re-expressed:  Philosophers are always acting or intervening in multi-levelled social worlds when they construct their representations, and thus views of possible or desired social action are woven into these “representation-interventions.”  The actions facilitating and facilitated by the problems chosen, the categories used, the relations inferred, the evidence required, and so on invites analysis and interpretation.  To propose, in contrast, that the harnessing of resources does not affect the content of theories, becomes a strong claim, obliging the claimant, I believe, to demonstrate that no changes in the resources would have produced a significantly different theory.

The specter of relativism haunts social constructivisms, even though there is nothing in the idea of heterogeneous construction that implies all “networks” (Latour 1987) or “webs” (Taylor 1995) of resources are equally strong or coherent.  It is the case, however, that the greater the complexity one discerns these webs to have, the more difficult the analysis of their causal structure (Taylor 1992, 1995).  No one resource in a construction stands alone; each tends to reinforce or link to others.  Together with the contingency and particularity, sometimes idiosyncracy, of any web supporting a theory or action, this difficulty of analysis invites, for those so inclined, a relativist stance.  However, it is possible to adopt a non-relativist approach to social constructivism, although the practice of this is not well developed.  We can, in a thought experiment or in actuality, consider the practical implications of a critic or opponent attempting to modify or dispute the connections making up a theory/action supporting web (Taylor 1992, 1995).  In this manner we can expose the resources involved, and their relative weight and inter-relations.  The way we are able to conduct the thought experiment or the actual intervention depends on our own web of resources, and once we acknowledge our own standpoint, or take stock of our web (Taylor 1990), we can hardly persist in giving equal credence to all theories or action.  The objection that no one theory or action can be proven decisively to all parties to be strongest or most coherent loses weight, remaining relevant only to the extent that one attempts to discount or deny one’s dependency on particular other social actors for acceptance or implementation of one’s theory or course of action.  I will return to this point in the conclusion, but now let me return to my interpretation of moral theory.

(next post)

References

Card, C. (ed.) (1991).  Feminist Ethics.  Lawrence, KA: University Press of Kansas.

Engelhardt, H. (1989).  “Applied philosophy in the post-modern age: An augury.”  Journal of Social Philosophy, 20: 42-48.

Kittay, E. and D. Meyers (eds.) (1987).  Women and Moral Theory.  Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield.

Latour, B. (1987).  Science in Action:  How to follow scientists and engineers through society Milton Keynes: Oxford University Press.

Purdy, L. (1992).  In Their Best Interest?  The Case Against Equal Rights for Children.  Ithaca: Cornell University Press.

Taylor, P. (1990).  “Mapping ecologists’ ecologies of knowledge.”  PSA 1990, Vol. 2: 95-109.

—— (1992).  “Re/constructing socio-ecologies:  System dynamics modeling of nomadic pastoralists in sub-Saharan Africa,” in A. Clarke and J. Fujimura (eds.) The Right Tool for the Job:  At work in twentieth century life sciences.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press.

—— (1995). “Building on construction: An exploration of heterogeneous constructionism, using an analogy from psychology and a sketch from socio-economic modeling.” Perspectives on Science 3:66-98.

December 20, 2010
by peter.taylor
1 Comment

Reconstructing Rawls VI: Phase 2

a constructivist+ perspective will lead to a much less generous assessment of Rawls’ coherence (continuing a series of posts)

Rawls’ reconstruction+, phase 2

Two central components of Rawls’ derivation of his framework will concern me here, one explicit and the other less so:  1) Self-interested participants in the Original Position would, Rawls argues in TJ, if sheltered behind a Veil of Ignorance, choose Equal Liberty, Equality of Opportunity, and the Difference Principle as their rules of justice, and give Priority to Liberty; 2) In order to use the Original Position with the Veil of Ignorance as a means of deriving rules of justice, the (hypothetical) participants must give equal concern and respect to the other participants (Dworkin [1973], 1989, p. 46ff).

The second component constitutes a deep premise of equality (point E in figure 2).  From this premise it follows that advantages obtained prior to making agreements in the Original Position cannot be assumed, whether these are historically given advantages or derive from “inborn” (pre-social) talents.  This denial of “natural merit” (i.e., of claims to benefits not pre-agreed to) forms one of Rawls’ considered convictions (point D).  Equality becomes the benchmark; the only acceptable inequalities are those that benefit everyone’s long term prospects (the Difference Principle).

Both these components — self-interested individuals in the Original Position and equal concern and respect are necessary for Rawls to derive his framework.  In important respects, however, they work at cross purposes.  We need to make sense of their coexistence in Rawls’ theory.  Coherence can be given to these two components, but, in doing so, progressively more serious incoherencies will be exposed.

The first component constitutes an argument of so-called rational choice, wherein reasons must be couched in terms of self-interest.  Rawls does not want his rules of justice to be based on assuming widespread altruism (TJ, p. 188ff) because they would be vulnerable to the possibility of some people free-riding on the altruism of others.  The second component, on the other hand, constitutes a strong assumption of moral motivation, that is, “the desire to be able to justify one’s actions to others on grounds which they could not reasonably reject” (Scanlon 1982, p. 116).  The second component is a morality that cannot be equated with self-interest; in fact, equal respect is readily seen as a check on the motive of self-interest.  By implicitly including a moral motive at the base of his derivation, Rawls undermines the assumption that self-interest would govern the hypothetical contractual position, the Original Position.  But once this assumption is loosened, the Veil of Ignorance need no longer be so strict and Rawls’ derivation unravels.  He cannot overcome the problem by dispensing with the moral component of his theory, because self-interest alone is insufficient to establish Rawls’ framework of justice (Barry 1989).

This is an uneasy combination for Rawls to have as the foundation for his theory.  In fact, our difficulties in reconstructing Rawls are now even greater.  As Rawls hints towards the end of TJ, equal respect for others is not so much an assumption as a “natural completion” (TJ, p. 509) of his theory, an ethic that would develop among people working according to his rules of justice.  Why, we might ask, does Rawls not admit openly this ethic-building motive, instead of smuggling equal respect in at the “foundation” of his theory?  Furthermore, once he acknowledged that he wanted to build a ethic that is new, or at least one that is not currently central to our dominant social institutions, why not set his sights higher?  Why not work towards an ethic of responsibility, in which people view talents as giving them the responsibility to employ them productively, without the need for material incentives?  In fact, why does he even need to accept inequalities that benefit everyone’s long term prospects (his Difference Principle)?  Why not derive egalitarian rules of justice from a deep premise of equality?

Some coherence can be restored to Rawls’ two part foundation for his theory if we turn our attention again to the social background.  The wealthy have power to perpetuate inequalities in wealth (point A1).  They can promote institutions that they do not have to justify on grounds that the less well off “could not reasonably reject.”  If morality is to be a resource for transforming this situation and checking the power and wealth of the wealthy, a powerful morality must be built.  Equal respect and concern is the morality Rawls chooses for the job.  Similarly, the denial of claims to benefits from historically given advantages or “inborn” talents, which follows from the deep premise of equality, makes some sense in the light of the same transformative project.  Points D and E are thus connected to the central aspect I have identified in the social background, point A1.

This transformative project is a difficult one, potentially opposed by the wealthy.  In my constructivist+ interpretation this leads Rawls to invoke considerations of Strains of Commitment, and it also enables us to understand why Rawls derives the Difference Principle and not egalitarianism from his deep premise of equality.  Rawls believes, as do the vast majority of his society, that material incentives are necessary and of prime importance for ensuring that we put our talents to productive use.  The plausibility of the Difference Principle is enhanced if we “see life’s values primarily in terms of ownership and consumption” (Watt 1988, p. 6).  The weight given in economics and popular social theory to material incentives also leads Rawls, the moral philosopher, to highlight the rational choice/self-interest component of his derivation over the deep moral foundation.

Some coherence has been restored to Rawls’ theory by referring to more of its implicit social background, but a deeper incoherence has now opened up.  If Rawls’ project is transformative, and building a new ethic of equal respect is central to this project, then why proceed as if a theory of justice can be built upwards from fundamental, widely accepted moral principles?  If social background is connected into moral philosophical theorizing, perhaps even grounding it, why construct arguments as if questions of justice can be posed and answered in reference to a foundation of “some extra contextual, ahistorical, non-situational reality, or rule, or law, or value” (Fish 1989, p. 344)?  Why not dispense with two-step rhetoric and instead tackle the difficult theoretical and methodological challenge of analyzing the web of social and moral cross-connections that I have just begun to draw attention to in this section (see figure 2)?

Again, ironically, a contribution to explaining the two-step structure can be made by referring to the social background of Rawls’ work, in this case the more direct context of the immediate audience Rawls’ writes for, namely, Anglo-American philosophers.  This is an audience with a long tradition of appealing to the common experience of like minded people, usually men of the same station in life.[1] The complex interconnections making up social and economic arrangements are filtered out in favor of abstract and unspecific propositions.  Analyses of philosophical arguments of previous centuries are considered more important than examination of historical changes in meaning (Williams 1983).[2] Given the discipline’s adherence to this tradition of universal, timeless issues it makes pragmatic sense for a professional philosopher to employ two-step tropes, whether in natural or constructivist guise, when constructing an argument about justice.

(next post)

References

Barry, B.  (1989).  A Treatise on Social Justice, Volume I:  Theories of Justice.  Berkeley: University of California Press.

Dear, P. (1991).  “Narratives, Anecdotes, and Experiments: Turning Experience into Science in the Seventeenth Century,” pp. 135-163 in P. Dear (ed.), The Literary Structure of Scientific Argument:  Historical Studies.  Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press.

Dworkin, R. (1989).  “The Original Position,” pp. 16-52 in N. Daniels (ed.) Reading Rawls:  Critical Studies on Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  Stanford:  Stanford University Press.

Fish, S. (1989).  “Anti-Foundationalism, Theory Hope, and the Teaching of Composition,” pp. 343-355 in S. Fish, Doing What Comes Naturally:  Change, Rhetoric, and the Practice of Theory in Literary and Legal Studies.  Durham and London: Duke University Press.

MacIntyre, A. (1984).  After virtue : a study in moral theory.  Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press.

Scanlon, T. (1982). “Contractualism and utilitarianism,” pp. 103-128 in A. Sen and B. Williams (eds.) Utilitarianism and beyond.  Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Watt, J. (1988).  “John Rawls and Human Welfare.”  Radical Philosophy 49: 3-9.

Williams, R. (1983).  Keywords:  A vocabulary of culture and society.  New York: Oxford University Press.


[1] See Dear (1991) for an illuminating discussion of the difficulty in seventeenth century natural philosophy of departing from this tradition and establishing experiments, which are constructions that few men actually witness, as a reliable basis for knowledge.

[2] Some exceptions relevant to this essay are Hacking (1975), who analyzes change in the very meaning of meaning, and MacIntyre (1984), whose argument centers on historical changes in what it means to do philosophy.

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