Rough Theory

Theory In The Rough

Monthly Archives: November 2006

Overheard at the Research Meeting

Selections of conversation from a meeting this evening, intended as a venue for sharing updates on PhD research in progress in the Environment and Planning area:

The Tabula Rasa

Setting: a somewhat involved discussion about the process of mapping ontological assumptions prior to beginning an intensive process of qualitative research.

Question: But do you really need to do that, you think, before you actually start doing your research?

Answer: Well, yes – I think you do. I mean, I believe there’s no such thing as the naive researcher…

Hand from the back of the room: Well, I’m pretty close!

Knickers in a Twist

Setting: a discussion of to what degree new technologies will improve compliance with environmental principles.

Argument: I think it also depends on who we’re talking about. I mean, a teenage girl with wet knickers who wants to wear them out that evening, is going to toss them in the dryer. Whereas someone at a different life stage will… will… will…

Interjection: Will go out without wearing any!

First Do No Harm

Setting: a discussion about a housing developments that heavily promote their environmental credentials.

Statement: What about Development X – I mean, I suppose it’s better than nothing…

Response: No. It’s not better than nothing.

How to do Things with Words

It is true that, as per NP’s suggestion, this post has been several times delayed by travel, tiredness and various other excuses. However it is not at all clear that in finally putting together a belated post, an “official” reading will be presented, nor that I will feel “comfortable providing a bit of context” – try though I might.

I echo the sentiment that it is a very enjoyable read, though its disarming style is also deceptive – it is in some ways reminiscent of Borges’ Labyrinths, in that it unfolds a certain argument only to fold it back up again and proceed down a different path. Like Wittgenstein, to a certain extent form mirrors content here – rather than proceeding from axioms to conclusions, the performative aspect of language is always central, even though the author proceeds in the ‘best’ analytical tradition, by way of re-slicing conventional categories of language into something else… Below is a tentative summary:

Austin initially dwells on the distinction between constative and performative sentences – between those which express some state of affairs, and those which, in their uttering, perform an action (there may be other classes of sentences too). Overt examples of the latter are ‘I do’ (in a marriage ceremony) or ‘I name this ship…’ (in a naming ceremony). Whereas constative sentences are truth-functional – they are true or false – Austin claims performative sentences may be considered ‘happy’ or ‘unhappy’ (happy-functional?). He proceeds to give six conditions which need to be satisfied for sentences to be ‘happy’. Much scholastic-style discussion ensues over the course of several lectures, which cover: condtion-matching examples and counter-examples; the relations between ‘happy’ and ‘true’ sentences; and the gradual ‘realisation’ that the constative/performative distinction is perhaps is not even, itself, a particularly ‘happy’ one…

This makes way for the presentation of what, as I understand it, is the core thesis of ‘speech act theory’. Firstly, there is a presentation of what ‘issuing an utterance’ is: a) the act of uttering noises (the ‘phone’); b) the act of uttering words chosen from a given vocubulary (the ‘pheme’); and c) the act of using words to create both a sense and a reference – together, a ‘meaning’ (the ‘rheme’). ‘Issuing an utterance’ is for Austin a locutionary act. Together with illocutionary and perlocutionary acts, these form a tripartite structure in which each successive term contains the previous. In other words, perlocutionary acts are always illocutionary acts, which are also always locationary acts. Illocutions are distinguished in that they are “performance of an act in saying something as opposed to performance of an act of saying something” (p. 100). As such illocutions have a particular force, as well as a meaning (which all locutionary acts have). Perlocutions are further distinguished in that they refer to some effect on someone (the speaker, the audience, or someone else). As an example: “He said to me, ‘You can’t do that'” is a locution; “He protested against my doing it” is an illocution; “He pulled me up, check me” is a perlocution. Critically, Austin claims illocutions have been elided into one of the other two categories, to the great confusion of philosophy in general.

The following lectures unpack the implications of this theory for the traditional constative/performative distinction. Essentially this distinction is a specialisation of the general distinction between locationary and illocutionary acts. This has the implication that truth-functional statements are not so much distinct as simply kinds of speech acts, among others. Instead of this distinction then, Austin proposes five overlapping families of speech acts: verdictives, exercitives, commissives, behavitives and expositives (by his own admission, an awkward classification). His final remarks suggest a broader program of applying this theory to the general problems of philosophy (‘What is the Good?’ and so on).

This summary necessarily rushes over much of the detail and in particular, the style and the refinements, qualifications and doubts Austin describes, which makes for a refreshing change to more bombastic accounts of linguistic theory elsewhere. Like most philosophers inhabiting the ‘linguistic turn’ – and like Wittgenstein in particular – Austin is convinced that traditional philosophical problems are frequently just confusions about language. Just as formal logic allows us to disambiguate certain cases of argument, better categories allow us to see our way through certain cases of problem sentences. In particular, by focussing on ‘use’ over conventional accounts of sentences as either truth-functional or not, or alternately, as different grammatical arrangments (statements, interrogatives, imperatives and so on), we get more fruitful lines of inquiry into these traditional problems.

To respond to the hint about ‘context’ – apart from these general remarks, I’m not sure what more I can add. Who is he responding to? On the surface it seems one account for how ‘context’, ‘use’ and other para-sentential information relate to the understanding of particular sentences (although that this ‘problem’ requires an account seems self-evident to me). Possibly there is also a sense that the growing field of linguistics needed to be ‘connected’ in some way to philosophy – both to apply empirical evidence to philosophical problems, and to apply philosophical rigour to the empirical research. At the same time, there is little of Austin’s text that relies explicitly on anything more than the sort of anecdotal linguistic evidence available to anyone. Indeed, there is something similar to the method of grammarians in his analysis (‘where does this sort of sentence belong?’) – notwithstanding the different categories in use – compared with the more avowedly mathematical approach of, for instance, Chomsky. Intuitively, although the eventual categories are perhaps somewhat arbitrary, it seems sensible to me to augment the various kinds of technical analyses – phonetic, syntactic, etc – which the sort of basic questions Austin is asking (‘how are sentences used’?).

Finally, I am curious where this ‘goes’, in discplinary terms. How influential is ‘speech act theory’ in linguistics or philosophy? Have Austin’s categories been widely adopted, and if so, have they been refined in light of other languages, and other potential ‘uses’? If not, is there still a place in the increasingly ‘scientific’ social sciences for this sort of treatment of language (which seems to me more useful in its method than in its results)? Some of these answers might come from reading more into Searle, Chomsky, Derrida, Pinker etc, as the reading group moves forward. Any comments?

Romancing the Course

While the rest of Melbourne visits the Cup today, I thought I’d come in to a gloriously empty office and get a bit of systematic work done. The first task on the agenda this morning is thinking about the organising principles for the postgraduate Planning Theory course, which, as I’ve mentioned previously, is currently being redesigned to (1) update the reading selections and (2) expand and deepen the theoretical material taught through the course, given that the creation of a new mandatory planning history course means that the theory course no longer needs to double as an intro to planning history.

In its current incarnation, the course is organised chronologically and thematically, with representative themes from each era chosen for each week, and with weeks gradually moving from the late 19th century toward the present. The course reader includes four or more reading selections for each week – one “common” reading, which all students must read, and a selection of other readings from which each student must choose at least one. Prior to each class, students submit brief reviews of that week’s readings to an online discussion forum, and then come to class to discuss those reviews and other reactions to the readings. The course also requires students to submit a larger essay at the end of the term.

For the past couple of years, I’ve been involved in an undergraduate version of this same course, which I redesigned this year. Since the course covers such a sweep of history, I thought it was important to “hang” the course material on an overarching metanarrative that would enable students to orient themselves in intellectual and social history as they engaged with specific theoretical works. For the undergraduate version of the course, the metanarrative I used was, essentially, the story of how planning – emerging as a discipline out of the transformation away from laissez faire capitalism in the late 19th century – came to be closely bound with the broader discourses of “planning” associated with the rise of the welfare state – and was then caught in the undertow created by the crisis of the welfare state, leaving the planning discipline struggling to redefine its identity and purpose in a more market-centred era.

I think this narrative was servicable – certainly for the undergraduate course – but I’m not sure that this is the narrative I want to build into the postgraduate version (or, for that matter, into the undergraduate course when I teach it next term…). I may retain it, but I’m also playing around with the notion of tracking a few overarching philosophical themes through the postgraduate course (particularly given that there is some desire that this course be a “hard” course – one that stretches the students intellectually). One preliminary thought (and I’ll apologise in advance here for what is likely to be a somewhat cringe-worthy over-simplification of several centuries of intellectual and social history…) is to organise the course as an exploration of themes of liberalism and romanticism as they play themselves out through intellectual and social movements from the late 18th century – an approach that would seek to give the students at least an introductory knowledge of these concepts, and sufficient experience to track the ways in which these concepts run through major intellectual and social conflicts in different historical periods.

I am not, however, the sole decision-maker on the course structure and content (among other things, this is not “my” course – I’ve taught into it, but the course is coordinated by a much more senior staff member, who will need to feel comfortable with the material, as they will be primarily responsible for delivering the course and dealing with any problems that arise from it; the coordinator for the postgraduate coursework program also has a vested interest in the direction in which this course develops). This collaborative situation has led to some interesting and generally quite productive debates on what we are trying to achieve through this course. Somewhat surprisingly – given the range of different issues on which we needed to achieve some consensus at the start – the most persistant debate has revolved around the prospect of including explicit discussion of a romantic intellectual and social movements in the course: it was an easy sell that teaching students about liberalism was important; romanticism, however, has proven quite contentious.

This debate has had some amusing consequences – among them that I think I’ve managed to get myself perceived as someone who particularly loves romantic movements. I suppose this isn’t an illogical conclusion to draw: why push so hard to include something when you disagree with it? (Regular readers of this blog, of course, will know my answer to that question…) I find it strangely dissonant, however, to have these hallway discussions where other staff are casually referencing “my” romantic “mates”… (I’ve also gotten a couple of “Awww… give us a kiss then!” responses…)

Thus far, the proper intellectual debate has progressed in three stages. Read more of this post

The Wilderness

One of my supervisors dropped by today to ask for an update on my work, and looked guilty when I asked whether he has been reading the blog. Read more of this post

Seeking Safe Haven

It's total war!  Everyone must fight or work!Fieldwork routinely leads to these priceless stories, many of which are nevertheless too tangential to make it into the dissertation. One of my favourites relates to one family’s story of their experience of the panic caused by the Japanese attacks on Australia during WWII. My informant reports that a hysteria swept through the local community, who feared that their small rural holdings would soon be overrun by invading forces. My informant’s father, convinced that Doreen was soon to fall, ordered his family to pack all of their belongings and flee to the safe haven of… Strathewen. Nonlocal readers probably won’t understand why this story is so priceless: Strathewen is just down the road – some 18 km away from Doreen: it’s unclear why relocating there would have provided any greater safety…

One odd side effect of collecting these sorts of stories from older community members is the palpable afterglow of gratitude toward the US for its timely entry into the war – an afterglow that extends to encompass one somewhat awkward American researcher, trundling around with a digital recorder to capture this kind of oral history… There is a strong, sustained sense that the US cares deeply about Australian security – a belief that overrides even some often intensely critical opinions about the current US administration.

[Note: Image from Australia Under Attack, 1942-1943 – this site posts some fantastic artwork and documentary material from this period, and is well worth a browse.]

Social Improvement with Architecture

I noticed an article in today’s New York Times titled “Social Improvement with Architecture”, which features a couple of new social housing projects in Chicago (including one near the Cabrini Green redevelopment I discussed recently). The housing projects are intended to be informed by principles of social and environmental sustainability – and, apparently, by some social theory as well:

“Sustainable design is exciting because all of a sudden architecture loses a lot of its frivolity,” Mr. Tigerman said.

“Instead of worrying about Post Modernism and Deconstructivism,” he said, sustainable design “is based on reason and the forms come out of that.”

The article also features some potentially undesirable praise for the city of Chicago: is it a good thing for the city to point out that “Both projects symbolize what some say is Chicago’s leading role in housing the homeless and indigent”?

For more information on the developments, check the websites for the Near North SRO and the Pacific Garden Mission.

Mentoring and Supervision

I’ve been trying to begin to think in a more sustained way about research supervision recently – a byproduct of being involved in the research methods course, which entails an intrinsic element of short-term supervision as you work with students who are writing their thesis proposals and, in practice, also often leads to longer-term follow-ups from students seeking specific kinds of advice as they continue their research.

I’m finding it reasonably complex to think through the issue – partially because my own personal preferences for research supervision are highly idiosyncratic, and not really suitable for extrapolation (not that extrapolation from personal learning styles ever provides a very solid foundation for thinking through the teaching relationship). At the same time, because supervision is such an intense process, and tends to be restricted to a fairly small number of students at any one time, you don’t get to try out ideas with the sort of “sample size” of students that’s available from regular teaching. You don’t have as many easy opportunities to think through what works, and what doesn’t work, in practical circumstances.

Reflecting back on various bits and pieces of advice I gave to students in the Research Strategies course this term, I realise that I generally fell into the metaphor of describing a thesis as a research apprenticeship, and encouraged students to seek out supervision with someone who could mentor them through this apprenticeship process. I did this because I was reaching for a way to capture how supervision differs from most other forms of teaching: it’s more sustained, more intense, generally involves a higher degree of modelling and workshopping than most other forms of teaching, because you’re focussing on the quite individual problems that arise in research design, data collection, interpretation and writing. These problems generally take the form of an unsolved puzzle, often with “wicked problem” dimensions: supervisors might have a level of experience or wisdom that can help a student cut through complex issues more efficiently, but generally can’t rely on knowing the “answer” to a student’s question. So the supervisory relationship provides, among other things, an opportunity for students to watch how a more experienced academic muddles through the sorts of problems the student is encountering for the first time.

Looking back on the term, though, I worry that this metaphor may have focussed too much attention on supervision as a process through which specific skills are communicated – a vision of supervision that was likely to reinforce what is generally a student’s first impulse in any event: to seek supervision from the people who have the greatest knowledge in their subject area, or experience with their preferred methodology. I don’t actually believe, however, that relevant subject or methods expertise is anywhere close to being the best predictor of whether a supervisory relationship will be effective for a particular student. Students generally can, I think, seek out expert advice fairly easily via one-off or short-term interactions with academic and non-academic professionals with whom they don’t require a sustained supervisory relationship. What distinguishes particularly effective supervision, I suspect, is more likely to be a kind of mentoring “chemistry” – closely related to what one of my own supervisors describes as the “pastoral” dimension of supervisory work: can a student and a supervisor develop a sufficient level of trust that they can honestly discuss problems that arise in and around the research process, and work together to develop effective solutions?

One implication of the relational nature of supervision is that the success or failure of supervisory relationships is rarely completely one-sided: I’ve seen situations in which two students had diametrically opposed experiences with the same faculty supervisor, and situations in which a student who seemed at risk of failure under one supervisor, rapidly found their footing in a new supervisory relationship… Supervisory relationships can be quite poor without this necessarily meaning that individual supervisors or students would have experienced problems in a different relationship… This means, however, that it can be very, very difficult to generalise about what makes a “good” supervisor, since a wide range of supervisory relationships could potentially work for specific students and faculty…

What could help, though, is to foreground the concept of supervision as a mentoring relationship, when talking with students about how to think about choosing their primary research supervisor. This means, among other things, advising students to distinguish between their need for information on their subject area or technical advice on their methodology, and their need to identify an appropriate mentor who can assist them in developing into the kind of academic or professional they intend to become. I did talk a bit about this in the methods course – although I think I largely flattened the issue into one of working style (e.g., whether students prefer very structured and formal interactions, more casual interactions, very hands-on supervision, etc.). For a short project such as an Honours thesis, it probably doesn’t matter all that much. I’m conscious, though, of the number of PhD students in particular who seem to make significant supervisory changes in mid-stream, and I wonder whether some reorientation of priorities when selecting a supervisor could minimise some of this disruption, and also increase students’ ability to grow and mature as intellectuals and professionals through the supervision process.

Developing Regulation

In the postgraduate Planning Theory course, which I am currently redesigning, one of our recurrent themes was the process whereby support comes to be mobilised in favour of particular kinds of regulation. A number of our inherited readings asserted what, from my point of view, is a very artificial opposition between capitalism and regulation, and spoke as though the core, defining characteristic of capitalist enterprise is a bottom line orientation to the unconstrained reduction of the immediate costs of production – a concept that, if you take it seriously, can make it very, very difficult to make sense of the social history behind large-scale regulatory shifts (empirically, large business enterprises becoming concerned with the implications of social or environmental problems, and then throwing their weight behind specific regulatory initiatives, often heralds important policy “tipping points”).

In the course, we dealt mainly with 19th and early 20th century cases. An article by Royce Millar in today’s Age provides a more contemporary example: Millar reports on the support of several major developers for a proposal for a new “inclusionary zone” in the inner city, which would require developers to provide affordable rental housing to be managed by a community housing association.

Notable (from my perspective, at least) is the way the article draws attention to the bottom-line focus on the developers’ need for predictability, and the ways in which additional costs can be accommodated, as long as they can be forecasted. The article notes developer concern with social polarisation, and includes a few quotes from developers on the need for regulation to be implemented with sufficient clarity to enable forward planning (Rod Fehring from Lend Lease Communities, for example, proclaimed that he was “keen” to incorporate affordable housing “As long as it’s clear what the objective is, then we can cope with it”).

Developer support for the proposal is, of course, both mixed, and qualified – the article alludes several times to the ways in which developers are pushing the government for various concessions in exchange for the provision of affordable housing. Developers, however, will be cooling their heels on the issue for the time being, as the Victorian government apparently regards the issue as too volatile for the election period, and has cancelled a meeting intended to discuss how the proposal could be implemented.

Arrested Development

So I’m in the process of trying to organise the material I’ve collected thus far, with the goal of focussing my remaining empirical research to fill in gaps in arguments I actually plan to make in writings related to my research grant (as opposed to my standard mode of operation, which is randomly to pursue whatever interesting material happens across my path when I’m in the field…). I particularly need to make some targeted decisions about what to do with some interesting tangents that have come up during interviews and observations that were primarily designed to capture other things: which tangential material should I leave to one side? Which material should I try to make more robust through some more rigorous research targeted to the tangent? Which topics should be addressed on a theoretical level via secondary materials, with perhaps the occasional illustrative use of field material for… local colour? Read more of this post

Rants Abroad…

Scott Eric Kaufman continues his analysis of the gender disparity between lurkers and commentators on his blog. I seem to have decided that his discussion would benefit from a rant from me – on differences in gender dynamics between the US and Australia, on why I don’t use my first name when posting (even though I know that anyone who cares can look it up), and on other matters of gender, nationality, and patterns in blog comments…

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