The Competitiveness of Nations in a Global Knowledge-Based Economy
Pierre Bourdieu [1]
The Peculiar History
of Scientific Reason
|
Content
The Struggle for the
Monopoly of Specific Competence
Capital and Power Over
Capital
Variations According to the
Degree of Autonomy |
Sociological Forum,
6 (1)
Mar. 1991, 3-26.
For Darwin, living means to submit an individual
difference to the judgement of the entire
congregation of those alive. This judgement includes only two sanctions: either to die, or to
become in turn, for a time, part of the jury. But, one is always, for as long as one lives,
both judge and judged.
(Canguilhem,
1977)
Two people, if they truly wish to understand one
another, must have first contradicted one another. Truth is the daughter of debate not of
sympathy.
(Bachelard,
1953)
Science is a social field of forces, struggles, and
relationships that is defined at every moment by the relations of power among
the protagonists. Scientific choices are
guided by taken-for-granted assumptions, interactive with practices, as to what
constitutes real and important problems, valid methods, and authentic
knowledge. Such choices also are shaped
by the social capital controlled by various positions and stances within the
field. This complex and dynamic
representation thus simultaneously rejects both the absolutist-idealist conception
of the immanent development of science and the historicist relativism of those
who consider science as purely a conventional social construct. The strategies used in science are at once
social and intellectual; for example, strategies that are founded on implicit
agreement with the established scientific order are thereby in affinity with
the positions of power within the field itself. In established scientific fields of high
autonomy, “revolutions” no longer are necessarily at the same time political
ruptures but rather are generated within the field themselves: the field
becomes the site of a permanent revolution. Under certain conditions, then, strategies
used in struggles for symbolic power transcend themselves as they are subjected
to the crisscrossing censorship that represents the constitutive reason of the
field. The necessary and sufficient condition
for this critical correction is a social organization such that each par-[ticipant can realize
specific interest only by mobilizing all the scientific resources available for
overcoming the obstacles shared by all his or her competitors. Thus, the type of analysis here illustrated
does not lead to reductive bias or sociologism that
would undermine its own foundations. Rather
it points to a comprehensive and reflexive objectivism that opens up a
liberating collective self-analysis.]
HHC: [bracketed]
displayed on page 4 of original.
1. Department of Sociology,
College de France, 11, place Marcelin Berthelot, 75231 Paris Cedex,
France.
3
There are few areas of intellectual life in which the familiar choice
between internal and external analysis has asserted itself more forcefully than
in the realm of science. The one
alternative, internal analysis, views scientific practice as a pure activity completely
independent of any economic or social determination; in contrast, external
analysis views science as a direct reflection of economic and social
structures. The sharpness of the choice,
no doubt, occurs because the stakes are very high: what is involved is in fact
nothing less than the possibility of applying the genetic mode of thinking,
which itself is science, to science itself, and thus of putting oneself
in the position of discovering that reason, which thinks itself free from
history, also has a history. Such a
choice, in this case as elsewhere, imprisons thought: it brutally delimits the
space of the thinkable and of the unthinkable by reducing the space of
theoretical possibilities to pairs of elementary oppositions, outside of which
there is no conceivable position.
The absolutist realism of those who hold that science,
especially in the most advanced regions of physics, expresses the world as it
really is, or at least provides the closest representation of what it is like
in reality (some describe this position as representationism),
stands in opposition to the historicist relativism of those who consider
science as a social construct, that is, as conventional, reflecting the
objective structures and the typical beliefs of a particular social universe. This epistemological couple imposes itself all
the more forcefully because it echoes one of the most persistent and powerful
of social antagonisms in the intellectual universe, that which sets into
opposition, from the middle of the 19th century on, philosophy against the
human sciences (biology, psychology, sociology). In a break analogous to the one effected by
astronomy and physics when they excluded the metaphysical question of the why
in favor of the positive (or positivist) inquiry into the how, the
human sciences substitute for inquiries into the truth of beliefs (in
the existence of God or of the external world, or in the validity of
mathematical or logical principles) a historical examination of
the genesis
of these beliefs. This instigates
various attempts on the part of philosophers to give science a nonempirical foundation and to preserve the necessity of
the laws of logic, as did Husserl, by constructing a
pure logic, free of any empirical - notably psychological - presupposition and
without any foundation other than its own internal coherence.
The “pincer effect” that this alternative exercises, politically overloaded
as it is, is so powerful that - functioning as a principle of vision and
division - it leads most historians of science to refuse to refer the history
of scientific ideas to the history of the social conditions of their development
(the most notable exception being represented by Thomas Kuhn [1962J, who, as it
happens, sees himself as a sociologist). In their eyes, it is obvious this sort of
linking can only take the form of the short circuit that is produced,
most often in the name of Marxism, by all those who relate scientific activity directly
to the economic and social structures of the time - as does, for example,
Franz Borkenau (1934) when he links the emergence of
mechanistic philosophy and of the mechanics that it establishes to the rise of
manufacturing and of the new forms of division of labor that it imposes. And it is not unusual that, being victims of
their categories of perception, these historians imagine that they stand in opposition
to the sociology of science when - along with Koyré
(1966), for example - they challenge it with tasks that are in reality part of
its agenda, such as the analysis of the emergence of problems, that is, of the
universe of possibles embodied notably in adversaries
and in rival theories in relation to which each past scholar was situated and
that determined the universe of the thinkable at that time.
The two antagonistic visions are both equally unaware of the universe
in which science is engendered - namely, the field of cultural production that
gradually wins its autonomy (and within which the scientific field itself tends
to constitute itself as a separate subspace) by differentiating itself from the
long-intermingled spheres of theology and of philosophy. Because of this lack of awareness, they cannot
pose the question of the specificity of the scientific field. Even in the “pure” universe where the “purest”
science is produced and reproduced, that science is in some respects a social
field like all others - with its relations of force, its powers, its struggles
and profits, its generic mechanisms such as those that regulate the selection
of newcomers or the competition between the various producers. What, then, are the (exceptional) social
conditions that must be met so that the field will assume the form that will
make possible the emergence of these social products more or less completely
independent from their social conditions of production that will constitute
scientific truths?
Thus, far from setting itself up as a supreme science, sociology,
through the sociology of science (and of sociology itself), is nothing more
5
than
scientific reason turning upon itself by posing the question of the genesis of
scientific reason in terms that will allow it to become the object of a
scientific answer.
The
Struggle for the Monopoly of Specific Competence
The scientific field is a separate world, apart, where a most specific
social logic is at work, affirming itself more and more to the degree that
symbolic relations of power impose themselves that are irreducible to those
that are current in the political field as well as to those instituted in the
legal or theological field. Analyses
such as those of Ian Hacking (1975) of the emergence of concepts of
probability or Steven Shapin and Simon Shaffer’s
(1985) of the invention of the experimental method enable one to form an
idea of what a structural history of the genesis of the scientific field could
be: as a universe in which a special form of accumulation takes place, a
principle of methodical reinterpretation of all the external demands and
pressures that come, as in the case of probability theory, from the legal field
or from the economic field or even from ordinary experience. This “independent causal series” of problems
engendering problems can be established (not without “intersecting” other
fields) only from the moment when a scholarly city has been instituted that is
simultaneously open and public (as opposed to hermetic and private), as well as
closed and selective. This public and
official space (as opposed to the secret, unchecked, and uncontrollable
universe of alchemy) is at the same time increasingly more strictly reserved to
those who have met the requirements for admittance - that is, those who know
and recognize the cognitive and evaluative, implicit or explicit,
presuppositions that constitute the fundamental law of the field at the given
moment, and who possess the mastery of the specific resources necessary for
reformulating the questions posed naively by the practical logic of the various
social practices, be they scholarly or ordinary. The “open” laboratory, whose genesis is evoked
by Steven Shapin and Simon Shaffer, is one of the
most significant materializations of this uncommon social space where, under
the collective supervision of reliable witnesses (reliable because they are
experts), experiments are carried out that are capable of constituting the
scientific fact as such - that is, as susceptible to being universally known
and recognized.
The scientific field is a field of forces whose structure is defined by
the continuous distribution of the specific capital possessed, at the given
moment, by various agents or institutions operative in the field. It is also a field of struggles or a space of
competition where agents or institutions
who work at
valorizing their own capital - by means of strategies of accumulation imposed
by the competition and appropriate for determining the preservation or
transformation of the structure - confront one another. (No matter how powerful is the tendency for
self-perpetuation inscribed in a position of monopoly, no holder of capital
remains durably sheltered from intrusions into the space of competition.) These struggles, however, remain determined by
the structure to the extent that scientific strategies - which are always
socially overdetermined, at least in their effects - depend
on the volume of capital possessed and therefore on the differential position
within this structure and on the representation of the present and future of
the field associated with this position. The strategies of agents are in fact
determined, in their leaning more either toward (scientific and social)
subversion, or toward conservation, by the specific interests associated with
possession of a more or less important volume of various kinds of specific
capital, which are both engaged in and engendered by the game. The specific capital, acquired in previous
struggles, that guides the strategies of conservation aimed at perpetuating it
always includes two components. First is
the capital of strictly scientific authority, which rests upon the
recognition granted by the peer competitors for the competency attested to by
specific successes (notably success in finding solutions deemed legitimate to
problems that are themselves held as legitimate within the state of the field
in question). Second, there is the capital
of social authority in matters of science, partly independent of the
strictly scientific authority (more so as the field is less autonomous), which
rests upon delegation from an institution, most often the educational system.
Strictly scientific authority tends to convert itself, over time, into
a social authority capable of opposing the assertion of a new scientific
authority. Further, social authority
within the scientific field tends to become legitimized by presenting itself as
pure technical reason, and also the recognized signs of statutory authority
modify the social perception of strictly technical ability (so that judgments
concerning scientific successes are always contaminated by the knowledge of the
position occupied within the strictly social hierarchies, i.e., the hierarchy
of institutions, the grandes Ecoles in France, or the universities in the United
States). Because of these conditions and
processes, it is only through a distinction of reason that one can separate in
the specific capital that part which is pure social representation, legally
guaranteed power, from pure technical ability. In fact, the contamination of the properly
scientific authority by the statutory authority based on the institution is all
the stronger as the autonomy of the scientific field is reduced. Similarly, as autonomy lessens, there is
increased ability of the holders of a strictly temporal power over institutions
(and in particular over mechanisms of
7
institutional
reproduction) to exercise a nominally scientific authority (at least in its
effects).
To say that the field of science is a field of struggles is not only a
means of breaking with the irenic image of the “scientific community” as
described by scientific hagiography - and often after it by the sociology of
science - that is, with the idea of a kind of régne
des fins (rule of end goals) that would know no law other than that of a
pure and perfect competition of ideas, infallibly decided by the intrinsic
force of the true idea. It is also the
means of recalling that scientific practices appear “disinterested” only in
reference to different interests, which are produced and required by other
fields (notably the economic field), and that the very functioning of the
scientific field produces and presupposes a specific form of interest, or
better still, of illusio. Although the field does not necessarily
know the boundaries that delimit the various spaces of play, admittance to the
field, like entry into the game, presupposes a metamorphosis of the
newcomer, or better yet, a sort of metanoia
marked in particular by a bracketing of beliefs and of ordinary modes of
thought and language, which is the correlate of a tacit adherence to the stakes
and the rules of the game. This illusio implies, on the one hand, an
investment in the game as such, the inclination to play the game (instead of
leaving it, or of losing interest in it). On the other hand, it implies a “feel” for the
game, a sense of the game mastered in the practical form of an embodied
principle of relevance that guides investments (in time, labor, and also in
affects) by allowing one to differentiate between interesting, important things
(problems, debates, objects, lectures, masters, etc.), and insignificant
things, devoid of interest. (The two
dimensions of the illusio, inclination and
ability, are inseparable: the ability to differentiate – “taste” - distinguishes
those who, being capable of differentiating, are not indifferent, and for whom
certain things matter more than others, from those to whom, as the saying goes,
“it’s all the same”.)
Scientific thought has no foundation other than the collective belief
in its foundations that the very functioning of the scientific field produces
and presupposes. The doxic
(implicit and unconscious) or dogmatic (explicit and codified) recognition of a
certain definition of knowledge, that is to say, of the boundary between
authentic knowledge and false science, between true and false problems, true
and false objects of science, legitimate methods or solutions and those that
are absurd, rests upon the objective orchestration of the practical schemes
inculcated through explicit teaching and through familiarization. This orchestration itself finds its basis in
the totality of the institutional mechanism ensuring the social and academic
selection of legitimate scholars (depending, for example, on the established
hierarchy of the disciplines), the training of
the agents
selected, and control over access to the instruments of research and
publication, etc. [2] The area of contested stakes, mapped out by
the struggles between orthodoxy and heterodoxy, stands out against the backdrop
of the universe of the doxa, that is,
the set of presuppositions that antagonists take for granted and beyond
dispute, because they constitute the implicit condition for discussion and
contention. The censorship exercised by
orthodoxy - and denounced by heterodoxy - conceals a more radical and also a
more invisible form of censorship because it is constitutive of the very
functioning of the field and because it bears upon the totality of what is
accepted due to the mere fact of membership in it.
The choices that lead from one scientific vision of the world to
another follow the logic of conversion rather than the logic of rational
calculation, as is demonstrated, among other things, by the oft observed fact
that these choices are made before all of the strictly scientific reasons that
could, ex post, justify them are visible or accessible. These choices tend to disclose themselves as reasonable,
that is to say, as objectively adjusted (or proportioned) to the structure
of the chances for success that are objectively placed before them - without
being for all that the product of a rational deliberation or of a cynical
computation. Rather, as is most often
the case, they have as their principle a sense of investment (positioning) that
is the product of the embodiment of the objective regularities of the field in
the form of dispositions. Thus the reconversions that are best adapted to the transformations
of the chances for profit can be lived out as conversions.
The structure of the scientific field is defined, at every moment, by
the state of the relations of power among the protagonists in the struggle,
that is to say, by the structure of the distribution of the specific capital
(in its various kinds) that they have been able to accumulate in the course of previous
struggles. It is this structure that
assigns to each scientist his or her strategies and scientific stances, and the
objective chances for their success, depending on the position he/she occupies
in it. There is no scientific choice - choice
of area of research, choice of methods, choice of a publication outlet, or the
choice, ably described by Hagstrom (1965), of
quick publication of partially verified results (as over later publication of
results
2. The hahitus
produced by primary class upbringing and the secondary hahitus
inculcated through schooling contribute (with differing weight in the case of
the social sciences and of the natural sciences) to determine the prereflexive adherence to the presuppositions of the field.
(On the role of socialization see Hagstrom, 1965:9; Kuhn, 1963.)
9
that are
thoroughly checked) - that does not constitute, in one or other of its aspects,
a social strategy of investment aimed at maximizing the specific profit,
inseparably political and scientific, provided by the field, and that could not
be understood as a product of the relation between a position in the field and
the dispositions (habitus) of its occupant.
One must contend against the idealist representation, which grants
science the power to develop according to its own immanent logic (as Kuhn
continues to do when he suggests that “scientific revolutions” come about as a
result of the exhaustion of “paradigms”). One must assert that, if the direction of
scientific movement (or elsewhere, the literary or artistic movement) is
inscribed as a potential state within the field of actual or potential stances
- in a space of possibles that the field, at
every moment, presents to the researcher - the driving force of this movement
resides in the space of objective positions, or more precisely, in the
structural homology that obtains between the space of possible stances and the
space of social positions. The space of possibles is this totality of objective potentialities, asking,
in a sense, to be actualized, which are inscribed or registered in the very
structure of the relations among the actually efficient scientific stances, as
they are defended by the occupants of the various existing positions. This universe of legitimate problems and of
objects, questions to be resolved, theories to refute or surpass, experiments
to verify or invalidate, insistently captures the attention of all those who
claim to assert their existence in the field, and who have the specific
competency necessary for knowing and recognizing these insistent virtualities. The
most pressing injunctions that the field can impose - and that may take the
oblique and often impenetrable paths of admiration for and rivalry with great
forerunners, of competition with intimate adversaries, or of indignation
against the metaphysical religious or political presuppositions of the opposing
scientific parties - obviously make themselves felt only to those who are disposed
to perceive and to recognize them.
Thus the objective possibilities that are concretely offered to the
various agents involved in the field are determined in the relation between, on
the one hand, the universe of possibilities (determined, at the given moment,
not only by the state of the problems, theories, and underlying beliefs, but
also by the nature of the objects made accessible to analysis through the
technical and mental equipment, notably the available language needed for
observing and describing them; Jacob, 1970:20), and on the other, the resources
that each scientist can mobilize, which define for him/her the universe of
things “to be done.” This is to say that
agents are not pure creators, who invent in a vacuum, ex nihilo,
but rather that they are, so to speak, actualizers
who translate into action socially instituted potentialities; these
potentialities in fact exist as such only for agents en-
dowed with the socially constituted dispositions that
predispose them to perceive those potentialities as such and to realize them. But this also means that these potentialities,
which may appear as the product of the development of the immanent tendencies
of science, do not contain within themselves the principle of their own
actualization. Rather, they become
historical reality only through the intervention of agents capable of going
beyond the science already constituted (by other agents) in order to perceive
in it (thanks to it and beyond it) possibles to be
realized and to “do what is necessary” (which is entirely different from
mechanical submission to a physical necessity).
The analysis of the scientific field is thus opposed both to attempts
to relate the scientific works of a period (broadly and crudely characterized)
directly to the structures of the corresponding society, and to attempts -
Michel Foucault’s being the most consistent of these - to understand the field
of stances in itself and for itself, that is, independently of the field of
positions. Instead the present analysis
in effect intends to apply the structural (or relational) mode of thinking not
only to symbolic systems, as in the so-called structuralist
tradition, but also to the social relationships of which the differential uses
of these symbolic systems are an expression. In a manner quite typical of symbolic
structuralism, Foucault, being aware that no work exists by itself, that is,
outside of the relations linking it to other works, proposes to give the name
of “field of strategic possibilities” to the “regulated system of differences
and dispersions” within which each particular work is defined (1968). But very close in this to the semiologists and to the uses that - along with Trier, for example - they have made of a notion such as
“semantic field,” Foucault refuses to look anywhere except in the “discursive
field” for the principle that will elucidate each of the discourses inserted in
it: “If the analysis of the physiocrats belongs to
the same discourses as that of the utilitarians, it
is not at all because they lived in the same period, and not because they
confronted each other within the same society, nor because their interests were
interwoven in the same economy, but rather because their two options arose from
one and the same allocation of choices, from one and the same strategic field”
(Foucault, 1968:29). In short, Foucault
transfers to the level of the symbolic field of possible stances strategies
that arise out of and unfold in the social field of positions, thereby
refusing to consider any relation between the works and the social conditions
of their production. Foucault is more
self-conscious and consistent than most historians of science who, by reason of
a failure to grasp the very concept of the scientific world as a social world,
remain confused on this point. Thus he
explicitly rejects as “doxological illusion” the claim that one can find in the
“field of polemics” and in the “divergences in interest or mental habits of
individuals” (1968:37) the principle of what occurs in the field of strategic
11
possibilities,
which appear to him as determined solely by the “strategic possibilities of
conceptual games.”
There is of course no denying the specific determinism that the possibles inscribed in one state of the space of stances
exert on the direction of the choices. Indeed,
it is one of the main functions of the notion of a relatively autonomous field,
endowed with a history and, if you will, a memory of its own, precisely to take
this into account. It is certain that
the order of symbolic representations or, more precisely, the totality of objectified
cultural resources, produced by history as it accumulates in the form of books,
articles, documents, instruments, and institutions (so many traces of
realizations of theories, of problematics, or of past
conceptual systems), presents itself as an autonomous world. Although born of historical action, this world
has its own laws that transcend the historical experiences of singular
individuals and that tend to suggest, even to impose, the trajectory of its own
development through the space of possibles (and of impossibles) that confronts any competent researcher.
But even in the case of the most advanced sciences it is not possible
to grant the symbolic realm the power to transform itself by means of a
mysterious form of Selbstbewegung, whose
principle is found, as in Hegel, in its tensions or internal contradictions. Such potential resources exist and persist as
materially and symbolically active cultural capital only in and through the
struggles of which the field of cultural production - and most notably, in this
case, the scientific field - are the site, and in which agents invest forces
and obtain profits that are proportional to their master of this objectified
patrimony, and therefore a function of their incorporated cultural capital (Bourdieu, forthcoming). If there is no doubt that the direction of the
change depends on the repertory of present and potential possibilities at the
given moment, it also depends on the relations of power between the agents and
institutions that, having an absolutely vital interest in this or that of the
possibilities put forth as instruments or stakes in the struggles for the
“legitimate problematic,” strive with all the means and powers at their
disposal to see that those possibilities are actualized that best suit their
dispositions and their position, and thus, their specific interests.
Capital
and Power Over Capital
Struggle is established between agents who are
unevenly endowed with specific capital and therefore unevenly able to
appropriate the resources inherited from the past, and with that, the profits
of the scientific work produced by all the competitors, through their
objective
col-
12
laboration in the implementation of the
totality of available means of scientific production. If all the participants must possess a
strictly scientific capital - all the more important as accumulated scientific
resources grow (at a given moment in a specific subfield) - it comes about that
a small number of agents or institutions may hold a volume of capital sufficient
to enable them to wield power over the capital held by the other agents.
This occurs through the power they have
to act upon the structure of the distribution of the chances for profit by
imposing, as the universal norm for the value of scientific productions, the
principles that they themselves utilize in their practice - in the choice of
their objects, methods, etc. We thus
observe that among other manifestations of their power, the dominants
consecrate certain objects by devoting their investments to them, and that,
through the very object of their investments, they tend to act upon the
structure of the chances for profit and thereby upon the profits yielded by
different investments.
In the competition that pits them against one another researchers (at
least those who are richest in specific capital) strive not only to obtain the
best rate of profit for their products within the limits of the current mode of
price setting, but also to promote the mode of price setting most favorable to
the means of scientific production that they hold either personally or
institutionally - for example, as alumni of a particular school or as members
of a particular research institution.
Stated more concretely, they try to impose the definition of science
that best conforms to their specific interest, that is, the one best suited to
preserving or increasing their specific capital.
It is for this reason that controversies over the priority of
discoveries have very often opposed someone who has discovered the hitherto unknown
phenomenon as a simple anomaly, not covered by existing theory, against someone
who has made it a genuine scientific fact by inserting it into a
theoretical framework. In such political
disputes over scientific property rights - which are at the same time
scientific debates about the meaning of what is discovered and epistemological
discussions on the nature of scientific discovery - there is in reality a
confrontation, through particular protagonists, between two principles for the hierarchization of scientific practices. The one principle grants primacy to
observation and experimentation, and therefore to the corresponding
inclinations and abilities, and the other privileges theory and the scientific
“interests” that go with it. This debate
has never ceased to occupy the center of epistemological reflection. The epistemological struggles over the
hierarchy of these moments of the scientific approach, both being nevertheless
equally critical (theory or experiment, the construction of hypotheses or the
elaboration of procedures of verification, explanation by means of
13
formal laws
or systematic description), or over the relative importance of the problems and
the relative value of the various methodologies used to resolve them, at times
reach dramatic levels of violence that liken them to religious wars. This ferocity occurs because, having at stake
the very definition of science - that is, the principles of the construction of
the object of study as a scientific object and the rules of delimiting the
relevant problems and methods that must be employed to resolve them and to
measure accurately the solutions - these struggles bear upon the principle of
the value of the various kinds of specifically scientific capital (often
described as forms of “intellectual character”), and therefore touch upon
questions of scientific life or death.
The definition of the stake in the scientific struggle (notably the
delimiting of the problems, the methods, and the modes of expression that can
be deemed scientific) is also a stake in the scientific battle. The dominant agents are those who have the
power to impose that definition of science according to which the most
accomplished science consists of having, being, and doing what they themselves
have, are, and do. Contrary to the
representation of science most commonly accepted by sociologists of science,
which tends to reduce the specific relations of domination to relations between
a “center” and a “periphery,” following the emanatist
metaphor, dear to Halbwachs, of the distance to the
“focus” of central values (cf. Ben-David, 1971; Shils,
1961:117-130), official science is not the unanimously recognized system of
norms and values that the “scientific community” as an undifferentiated group,
would, for the sake of the greater good of science and of the scientific
community itself, impose upon and inculcate in each of its members,
revolutionary anomie being attributable only to the failings of scientific
socialization.
It is indeed because the definition of the stake of the struggle is a
stake in the struggle (even in sciences where the apparent consensus
regarding the stakes is very strong) that one endlessly runs into the antinomy
of legitimacy: in the scientific field, as elsewhere, there exists no judiciary
for legitimizing claims to legitimacy, and claims to legitimacy carry a weight
proportional to the symbolic power of the groups whose specific interests they
express.
Scientific revolutions that overturn the tables of
epistemological values overturn in the same blow the hierarchy of social values
attached to the various forms of scientific practice, and thereby the social
hierarchy of the various categories of scientists. The new scientific regime completely
redistributes the meanings and values associated with the various scientific
choices by imposing new norms of interpretation and new categories of
perception and of appreciation of importance. As in those perceptual
restructurings that ambiguous forms allow, what was central now becomes
14
marginal,
secondary, insignificant, while objects, problems, and methods hitherto
considered minor and therefore left to minor and secondary agents, find
themselves brought to the forefront, in broad daylight, bringing a sudden
visibility to those connected with them.
Variations
According to the Degree of Autonomy
These principles of functioning assert themselves more completely the
greater the autonomy of the field under consideration. The degree of autonomy varies - diachronically
across the successive states of the scientific field, and sychronically
across subfields or disciplines - according to the volume of scientific
resources accumulated in the objectified state. These resources, through the mediation of the
embodied capital required for their appropriation, institute a more or less
clear-cut break between the professionals and the laymen, and a more or less
intense cross censorship among scientists. Autonomy also varies with the intensity of the
constraints and controls exercised, directly or indirectly, by external powers,
which themselves appear to depend on the degree to which the scientific
discoveries are liable to affect the legitimate representations of the social
world. [3]
The greater the autonomy of the field, the more the struggles for power
over capital, and especially the scientific revolutions that are their
paroxysmal form, tend to confine themselves to strictly scientific grounds
(even though, as we have seen, they can have consequential effects upon
relations of symbolic power within the field). In the sectors of the scientific field that
have attained the highest degree of autonomy, the requirements for entry tend
to become so elevated that producers have their rivals as their only possible
consumers, and the only effective power is that given by scientific competence
as recognized by one’s peers/competitors.
The ambiguity of the stakes, which inheres in the relation of relative
autonomy and in all the form of dependence and independence, gives the
3. If one admits that the
degree of automony of a field from external
determinations can be measured by the extent of the social arbitrariness that
is comprised in the system of presuppositions constitutive of its specific illusio, one can situate any scientific field
- the field of the social sciences or of mathematics today as well as those of
alchemy and mathematical astronomy at the time of Copernicus - between the two
poles represented, on the one side, by a scientific field from which every
element of social arbitrariness (or unthought) would
be excluded and whose social mechanisms would effect the necessary imposition
of the universal norms of reason, and on the other side, by the judicial field
or the religious field, which are specifically oriented to the legitimate (that
is arbitrary and misrecognized as such) imposition of a cultural arbitrariness
that expresses the specific interest of the dominant. (See Bourdieu,
1987h.)
15
agents’
strategies a two-sided face, scientific and political, just like the
motivations to which they respond. The
distinction made by Merton (in speaking of the social sciences) between
“social” conflicts (bearing on “the allocation of intellectual resources among
various types of sociological work” or on “the role which befits the sociologist”)
and “intellectual” conflicts (“oppositions of strictly formulated sociological
ideas”) represents precisely one of these strategies, at once social and
intellectual, through which orthodox sociology claims to secure for itself
academic respectability. It does this by
imposing a particular division between the scientific and the nonscientific
that can treat as lacking in scientific propriety any questioning of a kind
likely to call into question the foundations of its respectability (Merton, 1973:55).
[4] An analysis that would in this case
attempt to isolate a purely “political” dimension in scientific conflicts would
be as radically false as the more common opposite bias that considers only the
purely intellectual determinants of these conflicts. For example, the competition for funds and
research tools that puts specialists in opposition is never reduced to a simple
struggle for strictly “political” power: those who come to head the large
scientific organizations are obliged to impose a definition of research
implying that the correct way to do science necessitates the use of the
services of a large scientific bureaucracy - endowed with funds, advanced
technical equipment, abundant personnel - and to institute as the universal and
eternal methodology the survey of large random samples, the statistical
analysis of the data, and formalization of the results - in short, to set up
the standard most favorable to their personal and institutional capacities as
the yardstick of all scientific practice.
Such confusion of the powers is especially easy since there is room in
any field for scientific strategies that, being founded upon implicit agreement
with the established scientific order, are in affinity with occupation of
positions of power within the field itself.
Invention according to an already invented ars
invenvendi that resolves all the
problems likely to be raised within the limits of the established problematic
through the application of proven methods obscures by the same token all the
problems that are tacitly excluded from it. Thus the strategy is perfectly suited to an es-
4. In fact,
as soon as a conflict of strictly scientific import engages economic and
political stakes, as is always the case, by definition, in the social sciences,
the opposition between those who hold official authority (for example, in the
case of fluoridation analyzed by Sapolsky, 1968, “the
health officials” who view themselves as the only party competent in matters of
public health) and the opponents of this innovation (among whom one finds many
scientists, but who are, in the eyes of the officials, overstepping “the limits
of their own area of expertise”) is manifest clearly. It is obvious, in this case, that the stake of
the struggle is a power, “competency,” that is exercised not only within the
field but also outside of it, upon laypersons; therefore, it is a power that is
both scientific and political, a political power exercised in the name of
science.
tablishment science and to all those whose docile dispositions
(especially the oblates, fated and devoted to the system) incline them toward
the safe investments of strategies of succession fit to guarantee them,
at the end of a predictable career, the profits held out to those who fulfill
the official ideal of scientific excellence at the cost of having their
innovations circumscribed within authorized boundaries.
When the institutional powers that are in force in the scientific field
are in line with external powers, political or economic, heretical invention
that calls into question the very principles of the old scientific order is
also a strategy of subversion aimed against the established scientific
order of the field, and through it, against the social order with which this
scientific order is bound up. To the
degree that autonomy of the field increases, strategies of subversion do not
have to be as radical and as encompassing as in earlier states of the most
autonomous fields or in the least autonomous fields of the present - even if
they still find their roots in heretical dispositions.
It follows that, by failing to perceive the structural and
morphological properties that it owes to its place in this process, historians
or sociologists of science are prone to universalizing the particular case they
take directly as their object. Thus, it
is no doubt that, because it tacitly identifies science with contemporary physics,
positivist theory gives science the power to resolve all the questions it
raises, provided that they be posited scientifically, and to impose a consensus
on its solutions through the application of objective criteria. From this perspective, progress from one
system to another - say, from Newton to Einstein - occurs simply by the
accumulation of knowledge, by the refining of measurement, and by the
correction of principles. The philosophy
of the history of science offered by Thomas Kuhn, by adopting the obverse of
the positivist vision, no doubt applies to the inaugural revolutions of a
fledgling science, and especially for the “Copernican revolution” as he
analyzed it and that he views as “typical of every other major scientific
upheaval” (Kuhn, 1973:153, 162). In that
case the relative autonomy of science in relation to power (notably here in
relation to the Church) being still very limited, the scientific revolution
requires a political revolution. Given
that the field of mathematical astronomy in which it appears was still
“embedded in social relationships” (to use Polanyi’s
expression about the market of archaic societies), the Copernican revolution of
necessity had to claim the autonomy of a “self-regulating market” for a
scientific field still “embedded” in the religious and philosophical field and,
through it, in the political field. This
demand for autonomy is expressed through the assertion of the right of
scientists to settle scientific questions (“mathematics for mathematicians”),
in the name of the specific legitimacy that is conferred upon them by their
competence.
17
So long as the scientific method and the censorship or support it
proposes or imposes are not objectified in specific institutions and dispositions,
scientific revolutions will inevitably take the appearance of political ruptures.
On the contrary, when, thanks to the
gains made by these first revolutions, all recourse is excluded to weapons or
to powers (even purely symbolic ones) other than those generated within the
field itself, it is the very functioning of the field that defines more and
more completely, not only the ordinary order of “normal science,” but also the
extraordinary breaks - these “orderly revolutions” in Bachelard’s
words - inscribed in the logic of the history of science, that is, of
scientific polemics. A decisive change
occurs when censorship of those social drives that are not scientifically
sublimated has been progressively incorporated in the structure of the field
and in the mechanisms that control entry in it, and also, most importantly,
when it has been implanted in specific resources that are more and more
completely objectified in formalized (notably mathematical) procedures. Under these circumstances, revolution against
established science is carried out with the help of an institution that
provides the instruments of rupture with that establishment: the field thus
becomes the site of a permanent revolution, but one that is increasingly
stripped of political effects. [5]
Because the intellectual equipment required for making a scientific
revolution can henceforth be acquired only in and by the scientific city, [6] permanent revolution can, without
contradiction, go hand in hand with “legitimate dogmatism” (Bachelard,
1953:41). As accumulated scientific
resources increase, the requirements for entry continue to rise, and access to
scientific problems and instruments, thus to scientific competition, requires
an increasingly large amount of embodied capital. It follows that the opposition between
strategies of succession and strategies of subversion tends more and more to
lose its meaning, insofar as the accumulation of the capital necessary for
revolutions to succeed and the acquisition of the capital gained by successful
revolutions tend more and more to be carried out according to the regular
procedures of a career. The fomenters of
scientific revolutions are recruited, not among the least armed among the
newcomers, but on the contrary, from among those who are scientifically best
endowed. We thus know that inaugural
revolutions - which have given birth to new fields by constituting new realms
5. This is what makes it
possible for modern physics to serve as a paradigm for both the “continuist” representation of the positivist type (as
discussed in the foregoing) and for the “discontinuist”
vision defended by Toulmin (1968, 1972) and according
to which science progresses by way of a series of microrevolutions.
6. This is also true in a
highly autonomous artistic field, but the scientific field owes its specificity
- notably its strong cumulativeness - to the fact that constructions born of
the effort to surpass the works of predecessors must, here more than elsewhere,
also preserve, in a restructured form, what they have surpassed.
of
objectivity - have nearly always been the doing of holders of considerable
amounts of specific capital who, owing to their membership in a class or an
ethnic or religious group improbable in this universe, found themselves in an
ambivalent position likely to foster nonconforming and noncomformist
dispositions. Free from the statutory
pretensions that inspire the fear of derogation in others, the likes of Fechner, Freud, and Durkheim have
not hesitated to invest a large technical capital accumulated in a socially
superior field in reputedly inferior regions of scientific space without at the
same time renouncing the great ambitions associated with their initial
position. This led them to regain their
initial status by raising - through their scientific work - the value of the
new discipline that they had to create in order to realize themselves
(Ben-David, 1960; Ben-David and Collins, 1966).
The issue of autonomy and of the relations between scientific revolutions
and political revolutions is obviously particularly salient in the case of the
sciences of society. First, all powers -
and especially symbolic powers - cannot but feel threatened by the existence of
a discourse claiming truth about the social world and especially about powers:
the temporally or spiritually powerful want discourses that are regulated and
subordinated to the prerequisites of their own reproduction; they want applied
techniques of rule or instruments of legitimation. The second reason for this salience is that
this external demand, in both its negative and positive dimensions, always
finds support within fields of cultural production among those who have an
interest in heteronomy and who can summon a particular category of lay agents
to given their cause a social force that it cannot acquire in the confrontation
with peers/competitors. This explains
why, in the scientific disciplines that are most vulnerable to the social
demand for technical or symbolic services, we always see the emergence of an
opposition, typical in the fields of literary or artistic production, between a
field of restricted production that is to itself its own market, and a field of
generalized production, where producers offer their ideological services to the
dominant powers in the form of expert committees or “scientific ideologies” (in
Canguilhem’s sense, 1977:39,52; see also Bourdieu, 1985), or who, evading confrontation with their
competitors, address themselves to nonprofessionals and extract from this
direct link a form of symbolic power that they can attempt to bring into play
in the realm of scientific debate itself.
This observation reminds us that the autonomy of which the “hardest” of
sciences and the “purest” of arts avail themselves is perhaps but the
counterpart of the indifferences that one accords purity the freedom that can
be granted without risk to a universe closed unto itself, unto its formal games
and its esoteric debates, in short, the price of self-exclusion. And formalisms of all stripes are often the
gilded cage in which those who are
19
free to say
anything at all imprison themselves, provided that they say nothing about
anything essential or that they say it in such a form that nothing will escape
from the closed circle of the initiated.
The
Peculiar History of Reason
Thus an essential task is to reject the division between, first, the
positive analysis of the social universe within which science exists (of its
career patterns, its mechanisms of sanction and of reward, its norms, its motivations,
and its values) and second, the epistemological discourse designed to ground
and to justify science in and by a normative methodology tied to a logical
reconstruction of the progress of reason. It is only by carrying this analysis into the
heart of the domain unduly abandoned to philosophy by the sociology of science à la Merton, that is, by applying it even to
the social processes of validation of knowledge and of legitimation
of scholarship, that one can, paradoxically, construct a science of the
historical genesis of truth that does not lead to a self-defeating relativism. Claims to scientific validity can no doubt
hide claims to symbolic domination, and scientific debates can no doubt
conceal, underneath the confrontation between statements and reality, the
struggle for power of those who put them forward. It nevertheless remains true that, under
certain conditions, that is, in certain states of this field of struggles for
symbolic power that indeed is the scientific field, these strategies produce
their own transcendence, because they are subjected to the crisscrossing censorship
that represents the constitutive reason of the field.
One need not resort to the magic of a transcendental leap in order to
establish a foundation for truth. It is
possible to explain a theory genetically without undermining its claims to
truth. There are states of the scientific
field where the anarchic antagonism of particular interests is converted into a
rational dialectic and where the war of all against all transcends itself
through a critical correction of all by all. The necessary and sufficient condition for
this is that a social organization of communication and exchange obtains in the
field such that each can realize his or her specific interest only by
mobilizing all the scientific resources available for overcoming the obstacles
shared by all his or her competitors. We
can quote here Canguilhem describing the process of
the unification of the market that corresponds to the constitution of a field:
“A guiding principle in the history of the sciences must be to admit that in a
given period - and especially since the seventeenth century - discord and
rivalry in the scientific community cannot totally impede communication. On the one hand, it is impossible not to be
affected by what one rebuffs; on the other, even if
exchange were
impossible, the fact remains that everyone gets supplies on the same market”
(cf. Canguilhem, 1977:75-76). The generalized confrontation of comparable
and competing products that criticize and correct one another can produce the
official and public ratification that defines homologous discourse only
inasmuch as a field of possibilities and above all impossibilities is
instituted, such that, as in Darwinian theory, adjudication between competing
variations is made possible and that the social coexistence of the advocates of
logically mutually exclusive positions cannot go on indefinitely (as is the
case in philosophy with the proponents and opponents of the existence of God or
of freedom, for example). In point of
fact, as the scientific field becomes more unified (at the level of the
different disciplines or even at higher levels of integration) and as the capital
necessary for efficiently entering the competition becomes larger with the
increase of accumulated scientific resources, the market in which scientific
products can be exchanged becomes the site of an increasingly intense
competition among producers who continue to be better armed (and increasingly
more numerous), thereby giving its full efficacy to the armed criticism implied
in the production of competing solutions that are, in this case, also mutually
exclusive, at least for a time.
Thus it is in history that we find the reason for the advances of a
reason that is thoroughly historical and yet irreducible to history. Scientific reason realizes itself only when it
is inscribed, not in the ethical norms of a practical reason or in the
technical rules of a scientific methodology, but in the social mechanisms of an
apparently anarchic competition between strategies armed with instruments of
action and of thought capable of regulating the very conditions of their use as
well as in the durable dispositions inculcated by the school and reinforced by
the very functioning of the field. Far
from being the product of obedience to ideal norms whose full realization would
be aborted only by the interference of relations of domination (as Habermas would have it), the “ideal speech situation” becomes
a reality when social mechanisms of communication and of exchange are
established, mechanisms that impose the unrelenting censorships of well-armed
criticism, often through the quest for domination, and outside of any reference
to moral norms. We can understand the
specific logic of the scientific field only by transcending the scholastic
alternative between causes and reasons that tends to view any realistic
consideration of the social determinations of cultural production as a
historicist plot. Against all those who
see no possibility of “grounding/founding” reason other than ascribing it to a transhistorical “human nature” independent of social conditionings,
we must admit that reason realizes itself in history only to the degree that it
inscribes itself in the objective mechanisms of a regulated competition capable
of compelling interested claims to monopoly to convert
21
themselves
into mandatory contributions to the universal, and to have it so that by
submitting to causes, one in addition also obeys reasons. The ideal scientific city cannot be founded
solely upon the virtue of scientists. Objectivity, in the natural sciences as in the
social sciences, rests not upon the assumed impartiality of “free-floating
intellectuals,” but rather on the logic of the public competition that, through
the free and generalized play of criticism, puts a real symbolic policing at the
service of a code of verification. In
short, the representation of the scientific city as the fulfillment of the
ideal city can be accepted only if one has in mind a Machiavellian republic in
which citizens are virtuous because they have a vested interest in virtue. The almost infinite diversity of the stakes
that the logic of fields can constitute as worthy of interest proves the
extreme plasticity of this alleged nature in which some want to inscribe only one
form, and a very particular one, of egoistic interest: the constituting
efficacy of the institution can obtain pretty much anything from social agents
provided that it offers them games and stakes capable of providing
self-interested reasons for accomplishing actions labeled as disinterested because
they are indifferent to ordinary forms of profits. We must, indeed, resign ourselves to admitting
that, short of demanding of everyone at every moment the extraordinary
dispositions of the saint, the genius, or the hero, one can obtain ordinary
reason or virtue only from a social order capable of making these into a
specific form of well-understood self-interest.
The social history of the scientific field places the observer before a
difficulty similar to that encountered by specialists in the natural sciences: just
as one must admit both that vital phenomena stem only from physicochemical
causes and that the organism exhibits an organization that makes it irreducible
to its physicochemical basis (Canguilhem, 1977:135),
so one must at the same time both (1) refuse to view the scientific field as an
exception to the fundamental laws of all fields, and notably to the law of
interest that, under the specific forms it assumes in this field, can give
scientific struggles the character of a merciless violence, and (2) recognize
the irreducibility of the peculiar organization of this social game where true
ideas can be endowed with force because those who participate in the game have
an interest in truth instead of having, as in other games, the truth of their
interests.
To the extent that it formulates in a scientific manner the question of
the historical conditions for the emergence of this form of universal discourse
that scientific discourse is, the sociological analysis of the scientific field
may appear as a scientific (others will say scientistic)
redefinition of the Kantian project. That is, it replaces a reflexive analysis geared
to discovering unknown universals (the universals of human speech capacity, for
example) with an empirical investigation of the laws of functioning of
social
fields (which
are so many linguistic markets), conceived as institutional conditions inhering
in a certain historical situation and operating as the social conditions of
possibility of such or such a type of symbolic production. It does not suffice merely to record the fact
that each field as a “form of life” has its corresponding “language game”: one
must seek out, through a sociological analysis of the laws of functioning
specific to each of these arenas, the objective foundations of the table of
constraints and rules of production of utterances (and therefore of knowledge)
that define each of these language games in its own right (through a thoroughly
historicist redefinition of the Kantian project to extract a definitive representation
of the conditions of production of knowledge from the scientific results).
The specific case of the scientific field then takes on its full
meaning: only a historical analysis of the paradoxical process through which
the constraints and controls of rational dialectic have been gradually invented
and instituted into structures and dispositions can allow us to escape the
logical circle that this analysis itself brings forth without calling to the
rescue that last remnant of the creationist miracle that every quest for an a
priori foundation perpetuates: a historicized (rather than
“naturalized,” as Quine puts it) epistemology can
only record and account for the emergence of a social world that, although not
radically different from other worlds in terms of the motivations it inspires,
is radically differentiated from them by the constraints and the orientations
it imprints on them, because it is the realization of a history that has,
little by little, installed the things of logic into the logic of things.
Logical forms emerge within a form of life, that is, in a contingent
historicity within which logic is instituted as the mandatory form of social
struggle. The rational subject exists
only as the “union of the workers of proof,” to use Bachelard’s
words, as a forced union that imposes itself through “scientific polemic,”
again in Bachelard’s terms, as this war of all
against all in which reason is the best weapon.
Thus, whether or not there are transhistorical
universals of communication, there do exist forms of social organization of
communication suitable to foster the production of the universal, forms that
are established in the (historical) encounter between the product of two
partially independent histories. On the
one hand, there is a historical agent endowed with specific dispositions,
acquired and developed under specific social conditions (ontogenesis); on the
other, a historical field that is itself the product of a collective history
and that imposes upon those dispositions institutional conditions of
realization that are in themselves also thoroughly special (phytogenesis).
Simultaneous inventions are understood
perfectly according to this logic.
23
If, far from consisting of “categorical structures” of human
existence, the “knowledge-forming interests” uncovered by transcendental hermeneutics
are, in reality, the product of specific historical conditions, one understands
that it will not suffice to abolish the “systematically distorted exchanges”
that persist, here and there, even in the cultural order, to transform the
subjects by reminding them to abide by the universals rediscovered by the
philosopher but ignored and violated by the ordinary person. It is also and most importantly necessary to
transform established structures of communication through a genuine politics of
reason, which would arm itself with a rational science of the history of
reason in order to advance reason in history, by working, for example, toward
abolishing the social bases of the abuse of symbolic power and by advancing the
economic and social conditions for the emergence of new forms of communicative
or cognitive interest. [7]
It is not the sociologist who, blinded by a reductive and destructive
bias, invents the laws that human practices obey, even when these practices are
free from ordinary necessities. It is
not the sociologist who becomes the cynical or disenchanted accessory to these
laws that he or she merely discovers, but rather those who, by refusing to
confront them, give them free range: the Pharisaic advocates of the rights of
humanity and of the freedom of conscience in fact yield without a fight to the
forces of an unconscious that is nothing other than consciousness ignorant of
its own laws. When the sociologist
relates scientific intention to the social conditions of which it is the
product, when he or she labors to produce a science of the history of the
categories of scientific thought and to objectify the objective structures of
the scientific field as well as the cognitive and evaluative structures that
are at once the condition and the product of its functioning, the sociologist
does not destroy his or her own science, as those would have it who believe
they can imprison the sociological analyst within the relativist circle and
thereby magically wish away the threat of relativization
that his or her science poses to any science. How could the sociologist possibly not know
that the field of sociology itself functions according to the laws that govern
the functioning of every scientific field? He or she is well aware that probable representations
of the social world and of the science of the world correspond to the various
positions in the field. And far from
undermining his or her
7. See Bourdieu
(1987). As is shown by the empirical
investigation of relations of communication such as those that obtain, for
example, between professors and students (“systematically distorted” exchanges
in which the appearance of communication may be perpetuated in the quasi-total
absence of real comprehension), relations of pseudo-communication are rooted in
relations of power and, in the specific case, the instituted misunderstanding
constitutes an abuse of power whose possibility is instituted in the very
structure of the pedagogic relation, as the paradigm of all relations of
authority (cf. Bourdieu et al, 1965).
foundations,
this knowledge gives the sociologist the theoretical mastery of the social
determinations of knowledge that can be the basis for the practical mastery of
these determinations. The
epistemological critique it implies is closer to the Einsteinian
critique of “the absolute simultaneity of distant objects” than to the ex
post speculation of an external observer and constitutes an integral
part of scientific activity itself.
To construct the field of scientific production as such is to compel
oneself to objectivize the entire system of
strategies and of the positions in which these are rooted, and therefore, in
the specific case of a sociology of sociology, to objectivize
the very position of the sociologist as well as his or her own strategies. Practiced in this manner, the sociology of
science constitutes one of the most powerful instruments of which sociology can
avail itself in order to master the effects of the social determinisms, both
internal and external, to which it is especially exposed. Far from leading to sociologism,
it offers the sociologist (and to all others through him or her) the
possibility of consciously grasping, so as to choose to accept or to reject
them, the probable stances assigned to him or her by virtue of the definite
position he or she occupies in the game that he or she claims to analyze. And in case the sociologist were to not
understand the interest (this time strictly scientific) that he or she may have
in applying to him- or herself such liberating treatment, the very
dissemination of the symbolic weapon that the analysis of the sociological
field constitutes would no doubt result in the generalization and
systematization, by way of crisscrossing critiques, of a self-analysis that,
having become really collective, would be less open to the kind of
self-indulgence and self-complacency liable to blunt its effects.
Our thanks to Channa Newman for translating
the original manuscript. We also
appreciate the additional help in the translation process provided by Loïc J. D. Wacquant.
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