Download Can and should educational research be educative

Can and should educational research be educative?
Martyn Hammersley
Faculty of Education and Language Studies
The Open University
Walton Hall
Milton Keynes
MK6 7AA
email: [email protected]
Paper presented at the symposium on "Do we need a science of education?" at the Annual
Conference of the British Educational Research Association, University of Leeds,
England, September 13-15, 2001
A number of writers have argued that educational research should be educative, in
the sense of being geared directly to improving educational practice. One early example
is the work of Lawrence Stenhouse. As Malcolm Skilbeck points out, Stenhouse 'was
interested in research method basically for its educative potential not for reasons of the
disinterested pursuit of knowledge' (Skilbeck 1983:12). Thus, for him, the task of
educational research was to serve teachers. Moreover, Stenhouse saw teaching as itself
grounded in the research activity of the teacher, rather than in a body of subject
knowledge produced by others. While Stenhouse did not deny the contribution that
outside researchers could make to education, he saw their work as properly subordinated
to - in the sense of being designed to facilitate - the practical inquiries of teachers as
working professionals. And this governed his views about what shape educational
research ought to take. Thus, quoting Skilbeck again: 'Essentially, [Stenhouse] wanted a
procedure for studying selected, individual cases (not randomly drawn samples); cases of
classroom or school practice selected by experienced and insightful educators for their
potential value in illuminating educational decisions and enhancing practice' (p16).
Stenhouse was a prime mover in the founding of the Centre for Applied Research
in Education, at the University of East Anglia. John Elliott, another founding member,
has summarised the view of educational research shared by the Centre's staff as including
the following two elements: "the overriding purpose of educational research is to bring
about worthwhile educational change"; and "research is only educational when it is
directed towards realising educational values in practice" (Elliott 1990:4). Certainly,
these assumptions structure Elliott's own work. And while on some occasions, like
Stenhouse, he appears to draw a distinction between "educational research" and "research
on education" - even acknowledging the value of the latter as one resource in teacher
action research (see Elliott 1985:243) - on other occasions he raises questions about the
possibility or desirability of academic research on education. He argues that research
should be relocated "within the practical domain of "insiders"", and views external
research as the incursion of "technical rationality" into the practical domain (Elliott
1991:51-2). Analysing teachers' fear of theory, he argues that generalised knowledge
about teachers' practices "constitutes a denial of the individual practitioner's everyday
experience. It reinforces the powerlessness of teachers to define what is to count as
knowledge about their practices" (Elliott 1991:46). So, it is implied, what is required is
that we "stop pretending that truths about education can be detached from our values, and
discovered in contemplation rather than action". On this basis, he concludes that, despite
his disagreement with them in other respects, "the political evangelists for commercial
values" are right in thinking that "the world of academe needs to be culturally
dismantled" (Elliott 1988:193).
Other writers have taken a similar, if not quite so iconoclastic, line. For example,
Carr and Kemmis argue in favour of critical educational research, interpreting this as
integrating educational theory and practice. They comment that: "At the outset, then, it is
important to recognise that since it is the investigation of educational problems that
provides educational research with whatever unity or coherence it may have, the testing
ground for educational research is not its theoretical sophistication or its ability to
conform to criteria derived from the social sciences, but rather its capacity to resolve
educational problems and improve educational practice" (Carr and Kemmis 1986:109).
Moreover, "[...] since the practical experience of teachers is the source of the problems
under consideration, it must be recognised that the active participation of practitioners in
the research enterprise is an indispensable necessity" (Carr and Kemmis 1986:126). So
what is required is that researchers "merge their separate identity and collaborate with
teachers in a common effort to resolve educational problems and improve educational
practices" (Carr and Kemmis 1986:127). In short, the "institutionalised separation of
knowledge from action [...] must be overcome [...]" (Carr and Kemmis 1986:198)(1).
On somewhat different grounds, Michael Bassey has argued that we should draw a
distinction between educational research, whose aim is to "critically inform educational
judgements and decisions in order to improve educational action" (Bassey 1995:39), and
disciplinary research concerned with investigating social and psychological phenomena
that occur in educational settings. He does not deny the value of social scientific research
in those settings; his point is simply that such research is not educational, in the sense of
serving educational policy-making and practice; and that there is a need for research
which is educative in this sense.(2)
In this paper I will suggest that these arguments point to an important distinction between
types of research, but that they do not formulate the distinction soundly. I will also argue
that, by its very nature, research cannot be educative in design.
Arguments that educational research should be educative
Arguments for educational research being educative can be put under three headings,
though the authors whose work I discuss do not always maintain these distinctions. First,
there are arguments which appeal to semantics - these suggest that any study of education
must be evaluative because 'education' is a value-laden term. Secondly, there is the claim
that educational, and indeed all social, inquiry must be oriented to other values besides
truth because of the distinctive character of human social life (by comparison with the
physical phenomena studied by natural science), or because of the distinctive knowledgeconstitutive interest that underlies it. Finally, I will consider the more limited argument
that there is a worthwhile form of research, educative in character, that is distinct from
conventional social science but does not replace it(3).
The semantic argument
It is sometimes suggested that for any research to be entitled to call itself 'educational', it
must be educative in purpose. There are traces of this argument in the work of a number
of writers, but the most detailed presentation is probably that by Wilson and Wilson, so I
will focus on this here. They appeal to "what we normally mean by ["education"] in
twentieth century English". And they argue that it implies a connection with learning, and
thereby with knowledge, truth, and rationality. It follows from this that education is an
evaluative term, and must only be applied to instances that satisfy the requirements of
this usage. Thus, they claim that while "the Nazis may have said that the Hitler Youth
Camps were "educational" [...] they were not: they fitted their own conception of
education, but that conception was simply wrong. Not, or not only, morally wrong: just
incorrectly entitled" (Wilson and Wilson 2000:356). And the Wilsons draw the
implication that since what educational research investigates is a value-laden activity, so
too must it be value-laden; in the sense of being governed by an understanding of what is
and is not educational.
Several points can be made in response to this. First of all, it is not at all obvious
that when we use the word "education", for example when we refer to 'the education
system of England and Wales', we are committing ourselves to the belief that what is
referred to is truly educational. We may simply be using the phrase as a name. Thus, it is
not patently contradictory to say "as currently organised, the English education system is
anti-educational". More than this, though, we often use the words "education" and
"educational" to refer to the aim or intention of an activity, without implying that its
character or effect is actually educational in normative terms. So, again, there is no
contradiction involved in referring to 'the German education system under the Nazis',
even if we believe that a substantial portion of what went on in schools and universities
under that regime was far from educational(4)
A second point concerns the way in which Wilson and Wilson assume that there is a
consensus about what is and is not genuinely educational. They appeal to "the public
concept [of education, which]- with a little philosophical assistance by way of reminder we all share and can recognise". Thus, they claim that ""education", "educational", etc.
have a clear and unequivocal sense in English", as referring to "a kind of good [...] which
might briefly be described as the acquisition of knowledge or some sort of mastery or
control over the world" (Wilson and Wilson 2000:357). While I would not want to deny
that we do all share ideas in common about what education is, I do not believe that these
form some single coherent concept. We are likely to mean somewhat different things by
the word in different contexts. And we may well disagree about what we treat as the
central meaning of the term. For example, from my point of view, Wilson and Wilson's
formulation seems to be a definition of 'learning', rather than of "education" interpreted as
an activity; and in these terms it is deficient because it does not make any explicit
reference to the needs of the particular learner. As will become clear later, such reference
is central to education for me, and I suspect this is true for many others(5)
A third point is that it does not follow, without further assumptions, that because
education is a value-laden activity so too must educational research be governed by the
same values. This is little more than a play on words. Saying that some corpus of research
is educational could mean that it was designed to educate. But it need not mean this. The
Oxford English Dictionary identifies "educative" as one meaning of the word
"educational", but the first one it lists is "pertaining to institutions or activities concerned
with education". So, educational research could simply be research which focuses on
those institutions or activities which are in some sense directed towards education; and,
as noted earlier, there is no requirement here that the conception of education involved be
one that we accept as genuine. Thus, in semantic terms, educational research need not be
educative, any more than social research must be carried out by a group, rather than by an
individual investigator, in order to be 'social'(6).
Let me make one further comment, this time about the general character of the
Wilsons' argument. They claim to be able, from "tolerably obvious" points, indeed from
'reminders', to "suggest a fairly dramatic or radical revision of our current ideas about the
subject-matter, and hence about the methods, [of educational research]" (Wilson and
Wilson 2000:357). This sounds like the intellectual equivalent of pulling a rabbit out of a
hat. If it can be done, it will be stunning. But why have others not seen the rabbit lurking
at the bottom of the hat, or felt it wriggling around when they were wearing it? One
cannot avoid the suspicion that the rabbit has been smuggled in. In the case of the
Wilsons' argument, this is done by their appeal to a single, consensual meaning of the
word 'educational'.
Having said all this, I want to acknowledge a genuine problem to which the
Wilsons and others are responding. This is that while much educational research has
operated without explicitly addressing the issue of what is and is not truly educational, it
has often presented conclusions which are evaluative or prescriptive, or that could
reasonably be read as such.(7)
Moreover, the Wilsons are right that this kind of scientism, which is to be found amongst
both qualitative and quantitative researchers, obscures the need for the value issues
surrounding education to be openly discussed. Indeed, in one version, the effect is to
disguise education as a purely technical matter, implying that policies and practices are to
be judged entirely in terms of their "effectiveness". Frighteningly, in these terms Hitler"s
youth camps would probably score very highly as educational.
At one point in their discussion, the Wilsons distinguish between a "sociological"
and a "transcendental" sense of the phrase "educational research". While they effectively
dismiss the former, it seems to me that what is required is that the distinction between the
two sorts of concern be properly respected. So, what is necessary is not that educational
research explicitly addresses value issues, but instead that it makes clear the limited
nature of its conclusions: that it is concerned solely with describing and explaining, or
with conceptual clarification, not with evaluating and prescribing. Maintaining the
distinction between factual and value claims is important, since they need to be appraised
in different ways; and this means that researchers" intellectual authority is limited to the
former. Moreover, the development of factual knowledge can easily be distorted where it
is carried out in pursuit of some other, practical or political, goal (Foster et al 1996;
Hammersley 1999 and 2000). In other words, I am arguing that we need to draw a clear
distinction between the role of educational researcher and that of educationist; while yet
recognising the importance of both roles.
The argument from the practical character of human social life
A second argument for educational research being educative is perhaps best described as
ontological or epistemological, rather than semantic, in character. It appeals to the
distinctive nature of human social action; or, alternatively, to the nature of the 'interest'
which should guide educational, and perhaps all social, inquiry.
One starting point is an appeal to Aristotle. He draws a sharp distinction between
theoretical and practical sciences. The former are concerned with phenomena that are
universal and eternal, whereas the latter focus on what is changeable. And, since human
social life is open to change, being at least in part a product of our actions, Aristotle
argues that "domestic, legislative, and political science" (Aristotle, Nichomachean Ethics
1141b27) must be practical rather than theoretical in character. This means that it must be
concerned not with producing knowledge but rather with determining what is the right
course of action in particular situations(8)
Wilf Carr starts from this Aristotelian position in putting his case for a "critical
educational science" (Carr 1995; see also Carr and Kemmis 1986):
Clearly most research activities are theoretical in the sense that their distinctive purpose
is to resolve theoretical problems by discovering new knowledge. Determining the
distinguishing purpose of educational research, however, is complicated by the fact that
education is not itself a theoretical activity, but a practical activity the purpose of which is
to change those being educated in some desirable ways. This implies that educational
research cannot be defined simply by reference to the sort of purposes appropriate to
research activities concerned to resolve theoretical problems but must instead operate
within the framework of practical ends in terms of which educational activities are
conducted. Hence, while educational research is, like any other research activity,
concerned to investigate and resolve problems, it differs from theoretical research in the
sense that the educational problems it seeks to address are always practical problems,
which, as such, cannot be resolved by the discovery of new knowledge. (Carr 1995:79)
I take it that here Carr is not simply relying on the semantic argument, on an
appeal to the meaning of 'educational', but is, like Aristotle, making a point about the
nature of the phenomena with which different forms of research deal. If so, it is worth
noting that, while Carr does not explicitly state the point, his argument about educational
research would apply to all social inquiry. It is not just education that is a practical
activity in these terms; so too, for example, are crime, politics, and domestic labour.
Thus, on the basis of this Aristotelian argument, criminology, political sociology, and the
sociology of the family - along with most other areas of social inquiry - must also be
practical sciences. And it should be noted that this would amount to a reversion, in these
other fields as well as in education, to the mode of inquiry which prevailed before the
advent of the social sciences. Given this, some examination of the reasons why social
science in its current form originally emerged might be useful. One reason was the belief
that the earlier modes of evaluative inquiry were so embedded in a set of assumptions
about what ought to be done that the achievement of sound factual knowledge about what
was actually done, why, and with what consequences was obstructed. An obvious
question to ask, then, is: how would the revived form of practical inquiry advocated by
Carr avoid this problem?
Aside from this, it seems to me that there are fundamental problems with the
ancient Greek distinction between theoretical and practical activities that Carr employs
here. These relate primarily to the conception of theoretical science on which it relies.
One problem is that Aristotle sees theoria as contemplation of the true nature of the
natural world, rather than as a process of inquiry. In other words, his emphasis is on the
end-point of investigation, and this is because he sees that end-point as within reach. In
the light of subsequent experience, we are unlikely to share his confidence in the capacity
even of natural science to reach a finished and complete picture of the physical world; so
today we are inclined to think of theoretical science as an unending process of inquiry
(see Rescher 1998). We can, nevertheless, extract from Aristotle a useful distinction
between theoretical and practical problems. The former are concerned with knowledge with what is and is not true - while practical problems relate to what should be done.
Now, it is important to recognise that research always faces both theoretical and practical
problems; but it seems to me that, contrary to Carr (and perhaps to Aristotle), its goal is
always the resolution of theoretical problems(9). After all, what else would mark it off
from other types of activity? At the same time, it is true that some research is designed to
provide knowledge that will meet people's needs for information in trying to solve
practical problems; whereas other research, while still intended ultimately to have lay
relevance, is not designed to satisfy specific informational needs. I will develop this
distinction later.
A second problem with Aristotle's notion of theoretical science is his assumption
that the physical world is unchangeable. He saw no relationship between natural science
and technology; yet the contribution of the former to the latter can hardly be denied
today. Indeed, whether for good or for ill, through genetics we are now gaining some
control even over human nature. This subverts the basis for Aristotle's distinctions
between theoria, techne, and praxis. If the natural world is changeable, then on Aristotle's
terms it cannot be the focus for a theoretical science. Of course, it might be argued that
the distinction between theoretical and practical sciences can still be ontologically
grounded in the fact that there are universal laws in the natural world, whereas there are
no such laws applying to human social life. However, this is a complex issue; and it is
one on which it is difficult to come to any very solid conclusion. Much depends on what
is meant by 'law' here, since on some definitions there are no laws relating to many
aspects of the physical world. For example, in what sense has quantum mechanics or
evolutionary biology produced laws? On the other side, is it true that there are no laws, or
at least no quasi-laws (Scriven 1959), applying to human social behaviour? Given that the
explanation of human behaviour is not exhausted by appeal to conscious intention, it
seems that recourse to something like laws is involved in much commonsensical and
social scientific explanation(10)
A third problem is that Aristotle's notion of theoretical science is closely associated with
his conception of the nature of scientific inquiry, as intuition followed by deduction. For
him, it is because the natural world is unchanging that we are able to intuit fundamental
characteristics from which we can then deduce further conclusions. Yet, this is not a view
of scientific inquiry that many would attempt to defend today; not even those who, like
Carr, wish to revive the influence of Aristotle in thinking about practical activities and
ethics. Nevertheless, once we abandon this view of the nature of theoretical science, some
of the distinctiveness of Aristotle"s conception of the methodology of practical science
disappears.
In light of all this, it seems clear that Aristotle's distinction cannot be relied on as
a sound basis for arguing that educational research must be educative; or that social
inquiry in general must be practical in character. Any distinction between theoretical and
practical sciences requires reformulation in light of what we have learned about nature,
society, and scientific inquiry since Aristotle.
Carr probably accepts this, since he also draws on what is perhaps the most
influential recent formulation of types of inquiry: that of Habermas(11).
Here, three kinds of inquiry are distinguished, each stemming from a distinctive
'knowledge-constitutive interest'. Thus, natural science is determined by an interest in
exercising technological control over nature; the 'historical-hermeneutical sciences' are
directed by a practical interest in expanding intersubjective understanding; and, finally,
the 'critical' approach is governed by an emancipatory interest in increasing human
autonomy from social constraints (Habermas 1971). As should be clear, in important
respects, this typology is at odds with Aristotle"s distinction between theoretical,
productive, and practical sciences.
It should be underlined that what Habermas means by 'interest' here is not the
kind of potentially distorting motive or bias arising from the personal or social
characteristics of researchers, which 'the discipline of trained thought [...] correctly aims
at excluding [...]' (Habermas 1987:311). Rather, the term 'knowledge-constitutive
interests' relates to the conditions of possible objectivity of different forms of inquiry;
these interests 'determine the aspect under which reality can be objectified and thus made
accessible to experience in the first place' (Habermas 1974:9). Thus, Habermas seems to
accept the neo-Kantian idea that reality cannot be captured, in the sense of being
exhausted, by any single perspective. Rather, different aspects of it are made available by
different forms of inquiry. In these terms, the three approaches he identifies are all
necessary and valuable. At the same time, as we shall see, Habermas wants to claim
superiority for philosophy, which he identifies (again, perhaps on the model of Kant, but
also under the influence of Hegel) with critical inquiry.
Habermas's conception of the forms of inquiry is by no means unproblematic: it
has been subjected to a great deal of discussion(12). I will mention just a few of the
problems here. First of all, it is important to note that his distinction between 'empiricalanalytic' and 'historical-hermeneutic' sciences is a reformulation of the nineteenth century
distinction between natural and historical (or 'moral') sciences(13). And there were
disagreements among nineteenth century writers about the basis for that distinction. As
already noted, Habermas is closest to the neo-Kantian position, in terms of which these
sciences address reality in different ways; though, drawing on Husserl, he sometimes
seems to think of each type of science as 'constituting' a different reality about which it
seeks to provide knowledge. Moreover, whereas the neo-Kantians saw the key distinction
as between a focus on universal laws and a focus on the unique, Habermas draws the
contrast between his first two types in terms of whether knowledge is directed towards
the goal of exercising control or is devoted to expanding intersubjective understanding.
This is a crucial change, in the context of the issues discussed in this paper. For the neoKantians the goal of all scientific research was to produce knowledge; the different forms
of science were directed at generating different kinds of knowledge. By contrast,
Habermas's different forms of inquiry are defined as directed towards different types of
practical purpose. Thus, the possibility of theoretical science, concerned with pursuing
knowledge for its own sake, is eliminated in Habermas's formulation: all science becomes
practical, in a broad sense of that term which includes the technical.
Habermas's idea that the natural sciences are guided by a concern with gaining
technological control over nature was by no means a novel one; even though it is at odds
with the Greek view of theoria. But his attempt to show that natural science is governed
by an instrumental orientation is not convincing: it treats a positivist account of natural
science as sound, appealing to the fact that positivist philosophers regarded prediction as
symmetrical with explanation and emphasised the role of experimental testing in
validating knowledge. Yet, even if we were to take twentieth century positivist
philosophy of science as providing an accurate account of the logic of natural science,
this does not imply that natural science is controlled by an instrumentalist concern with
technological payoff(14).
Moreover, this positivist view of science has been subjected to considerable criticism
since the middle of the twentieth century, so that there are few philosophers who would
seek to defend it today. Both the idea that explanation and prediction are symmetrical,
and the degree of significance attributed to experimental testing, have been questioned
(see, for example, Scheffler 1963, Harris 1970, Kuhn 1970, and Bhaskar 1975). As a
result, even the superficial evidence for instrumental orientation to which Habermas
appeals has been undermined.
Habermas's account of the 'historical-hermeneutic sciences' is equally
questionable. It is not clear in what sense these are, or ought to be, concerned solely with
meanings and not with causes; or that they are, or ought to be, guided by a practical
concern with increasing intersubjective understanding. Whether we take the example of
historical work or of qualitative inquiry in the social sciences, in factual terms neither
claim is entirely accurate. Understanding the perspectives of actors has certainly been
emphasised, but this has frequently been treated as an essential precondition for
explaining their behaviour. And the task of explanation has often been formulated by
qualitative researchers and historians in ways that share much in common with how
natural scientists seek to explain physical phenomena (Hammersley 1989). In this
respect, Habermas"s account of the historical-hermeneutic sciences is inaccurate; and in a
way that seems designed to prepare the way for ascribing false novelty to a "critical"
approach focusing on both meaning and cause. It might also be added that while
Habermas labels the orientation of the historical-hermeneutic sciences 'practical', what he
means by that term is somewhat different from Aristotle's conception of the practical. For
Aristotle, the practical sciences were not concerned with 'securing and expanding
possibilities of mutual and self-understanding in the conduct of life' (McCarthy 1978:56)
but rather with promoting wise action, with solving practical problems well.
A more fundamental problem with Habermas's position concerns the
philosophical underpinning of the distinction between the three types of inquiry. As I
noted, the concept of 'interest' he uses is not an empirical one, it is transcendental or at
least quasi-transcendental in status. Given this, a question that arises is: what form of
inquiry has produced this account of three knowledge-constitutive interests? There is an
ambiguity in Habermas's argument here, one which can be characterised in philosophical
terms as indicating an ambivalence between Kant and Hegel. Thus, in one place he
claims that the knowledge-constitutive interest in autonomy and responsibility - that is,
the emancipatory interest - can be known a priori; that it is open to direct apprehension
(Habermas 1972:314). However, Habermas does not engage in the kind of detailed
transcendental inquiry, characteristic of Kant, which would be necessary to establish that
there are just these three forms of interest. And in other places he portrays the three
interests as neither a priori nor a posteriori, implicitly appealing to the Hegelian claim to
have transcended that distinction. Overall, Habermas's mode of approach in Knowledge
and Human Interest is more Hegelian than Kantian, tracing the history of thinking about
science and seeking to show that his typology of knowledge-constitutive interests is the
'realisation' of a long process of socio-intellectual development. However, as Lobkowicz
points out, in trying to justify his typology in this manner, Habermas presents the history
of philosophy "from a point of view whose validity he asserts but does not demonstrate"
(Lobkowicz 1972:195). In other words, a vicious circle is involved, in which the views of
the philosophers Habermas discusses are interpreted in terms of what they should have
said, or what the implications of their positions must be, given the validity of Habermas"s
starting point.
Indeed, it becomes clear that this circularity is unavoidable if we ask how the
'philosophical self-reflection' Habermas employs relates to his typology of forms of
inquiry. It is clear that he regards such reflection as an example of the third, 'critical',
mode of investigation. But this generates tensions in the relationship between this form of
inquiry and the others. It looks as though, in Hegelian terms, it is being represented as a
higher level synthesis of the other two. As McCarthy comments: 'Hegel's philosophy of
identity led not to a critical comprehension of empirical science as one category of
possible knowledge but to its dissolution in a science of absolute knowledge' (McCarthy
1978:54). And, presumably, much the same would apply to the historical-hermeneutic
sciences, from this Hegelian perspective. However, in other places, Habermas seems to
adopt a neo-Kantian position on this issue, whereby the critical approach does not
supersede the others, each is presented as appropriate to its own purpose. Yet it is
difficult to see how the 'critical' approach can be anything but a competitor to the
'historical-hermeneutic' and even to the 'empirical-analytic' approach; given that the very
distinctions among these three types of inquiry are its product. In effect, the status of the
'critical' approach remains very similar to that attributed to it previously by Horkheimer
(Horkheimer 1972). Thus, Habermas's typology is shot through with unresolved
ambiguity about whether it is based on Kantian or Hegelian foundations, and about the
nature of the relationships among the three types of inquiry.
Furthermore, Habermas"s reliance on Hegelianism to justify the superiority of his
"critical" approach is far from convincing. It depends on a view of history as involving
the dialectical realisation of humanity's species-specific nature. Thus, Habermas
comments that the specific viewpoints from which 'with transcendental necessity' reality
is apprehended 'originate in the interest structure of a species that is linked in its roots to
definite means of social organization: work, language and power' (Habermas 1987:313).
Yet both the Hegelian and Marxist versions of this philosophical anthropology have been
subjected to serious question(15). And that of Habermas seems no more convincing. The
three elements - work, language, and power - surely belong to different category systems
rather than to the same one. After all, language is involved in most aspects of work and in
the exercise of power; while power is closely related to various kinds of work. While
Habermas wants to maintain a clear distinction between the technical control of nature
and a practical orientation towards human social life, it is not obvious that it can be
preserved. As much recent work on technology has pointed out, this is very much socially
generated, and its effects are socially mediated if not socially constructed (see, for
example, Feenberg 1999). Similarly, as considerable recent study of language-use has
shown, it is intimately related to competition over resources and to the exercise of power
(see, for instance, Fairclough 1989).
In short, then, Carr's argument, that because education is a practical activity
educational research must be geared to solving educational problems, is not wellsupported by the sources he relies on. Neither his appeal to Aristotle's distinction between
theoretical and practical science nor his reliance on Habermas's typology of knowledgeconstituting interests can make this argument convincing.
The argument that educational research is distinct from social scientific research on
educational settings
The third argument in support of the idea that educational research should be educative is
more modest in character than the previous one. It does not deny that social scientists can
study the educational system, teaching, learning etc. Rather, it argues that there is a
separate form of inquiry that is of more direct practical value. I will take Bassey as
representative of this position. He adopts Stenhouse's definition of research as
'systematic, critical and self-critical enquiry which aims to contribute to the advancement
of knowledge' (Bassey 1995:2). Later in the same book, he asks: 'what kinds of research
are there in educational settings?' (Bassey 1995:36). He insists that the answer to this
question is plural: that there are at least two kinds. And he continues: 'in my view
research in educational settings is only educational research if it is concerned with
attempts to improve educational judgements and decisions. Research in educational
settings which aims to develop sociological theory, psychological theory, philosophical
constructs or historical ideas is not educational research, but sociological, psychological,
philosophical or historical research in educational settings' (Bassey 1995:37).
It is time, Bassey suggests, for educational researchers 'to leave the parental home
(if sociology and psychology were the parents) and stand firmly on our own ground. That
ground is the educational process of making decisions and judgements by practitioners
and policy-makers, from the standpoint of trying to improve them' (Bassey 1995:37). On
this basis he argues that educational research must be designed to 'feed teaching'
(Stenhouse 1975:165; quoted in Bassey 1995:38), and in order to do this it must be
grounded 'in the realities of teachers' everyday experience' (Tripp 1993:152; quoted in
Bassey 1995:39). He produces a definition of 'educational research' which he believes
should be 'nailed to the door and printed on the letterhead of everyone who claims to be
an educational researcher'. As noted earlier, this defines it in terms of its aim: 'critically to
inform educational judgements and decisions in order to improve educational action'
(Bassey 1995:39). He contrasts this with disciplinary research in educational settings,
which 'aims critically to inform understandings of social [or psychological, etc]
phenomena in educational settings' (Bassey 1995:42-5).
Bassey illustrates the distinction he has drawn by going through various articles
published in education journals, identifying some as educational research, others as
examples of sociological or psychological research on education. His allocation decisions
here relate to whether or not studies seem to be 'concerned to improve' (Bassey 1995:40)
educational practice and/or whether they have 'implications for the decisions of'
educational policymakers or practitioners (Bassey 1995:41). If they do either of these
things then they are counted as educational. Indeed, he includes within his definition of
educational research some methodological and philosophical papers concerned with
particular approaches to data collection or with particular concepts, such as
'underachievement'.
Now it seems to me that Bassey is pointing to an important distinction here. Even
so, I believe that some reformulation is required. For example, it does not appear sensible
to distinguish educational from disciplinary research on the basis of the motives of
researchers. These are likely to be diverse, and to bear an uncertain relationship to the
kind of research that is done. It would not be logically contradictory, or even obviously
irrational, to argue that the best way for a researcher to contribute to the improvement of
education would be to build sociological and psychological knowledge in this field.
Similarly, the fact that a piece of research has 'implications' for educational policymaking
or practice does not seem to be a sound basis for distinguishing between types of
research. All research in educational settings potentially has such implications. At the
same time, no research which limits itself to factual conclusions carries a single set of
policy implications. This is because such implications can only be 'derived' on the basis
of practical values relevant to education, and perhaps also on the basis of further factual
assumptions as well (Foster et al 2000). Of course, research reports differ in whether they
explicitly draw practical educational implications. But this is not necessarily tied to the
form of inquiry employed either.
Equally important, there is an ambiguity in Bassey's account of educational
research. On the one hand, as I noted, he defines 'research' as 'systematic, critical and
self-critical enquiry which aims to contribute to the advancement of knowledge' (Bassey
1995:2). And in some of his discussion Bassey seems to see educational research as
aimed at knowledge which is simply relevant to the improvement of education. As such,
this does not imply any difference in the immediate goal of educational, as compared
with disciplinary, research; it would be distinguished solely in terms of its relevance
criterion. Nor is it explicitly suggested that there is a single concept of education which
must serve as the basis for judgements against that criterion. However, on the other hand,
in the formal definition of 'educational research' that Bassey provides, and in some other
places, he seems to move beyond this. Here, the aim of research is not to 'contribute to
the advancement of knowledge' (Bassey 1995:2) but rather to 'inform educational
judgements and decisions in order to improve educational action' (Bassey 1995:39). The
phrase 'in order to' is of some significance here. It implies that the aim of producing
knowledge has been subordinated to that of improving education; an implication that is
reinforced in the title of Bassey's book, Creating Education through Research(16).
Moreover, in that book he devotes a good deal of space to spelling out his view of
education and its implications, which he seems to see as closely related to his definition
of 'educational research'.
In my view, action aimed at 'improving educational action' would be more
appropriately defined as the task of the educationist: whether acting as education
manager, policy advisor, teacher educator, or public intellectual engaging in debates
about educational issues. Those who act in these roles may well draw on research, and
indeed people who are researchers can also act in these other roles; in fact, it is to be
hoped that they would. However, in my view the goal of educational research must be
confined to the advancement of knowledge, albeit knowledge relevant to educational
policymaking and practice. At the same time, some forms of research on education can
have a closer relationship with these activities than others, by being specifically designed
to serve their informational needs.
In summary, then, I think there is an important distinction to be drawn between
social scientific research and inquiry concerned directly with meeting the informational
requirements of educational practitioners and of others with an interest in education.
However, in my view none of the arguments in the literature I have discussed formulate
this distinction soundly. In the next section I will offer a typology of forms of research
which is designed to avoid the problems I have identified. Following that, I will explain
why I believe that while research can be informative it cannot be educative.
Types of inquiry
In trying to identify different kinds of educational research, let me begin from
Habermas's typology. It seems to me undeniable that there is an 'anthropologically deepseated interest' in predicting and controlling events in the natural environment. And it is
true that much natural scientific work has been stimulated and shaped by that interest(17).
However, it is not at all clear that this interest has structured natural scientific inquiry in
the way that Habermas claims, in the sense of setting its methodological framework.
More fundamentally, as we saw, there are problems with attributing some 'quasitranscendental' telos to natural science, in the way that Habermas does. Nor is it obvious
that a concern with technological control is the only 'anthropologically deep-seated
interest' that has stimulated and shaped natural scientific work. Equally important, I
suggest, has been the curiosity which Aristotle saw as intrinsic to human nature (Lear
1988).
Moreover, the idea that curiosity is intrinsic to human nature does not depend on
Aristotelian metaphysics. It is not difficult to see how a naturalistic account could be
provided for it on the basis of evolutionary biology. Such an interest would confer
evolutionary advantage of precisely the kind which humans seem to have enjoyed in their
capacity to spread across the globe and to survive in diverse natural environments.
Furthermore, this interest has two important characteristics. First, knowledge is of general
and unpredictable value. Whatever the original stimulus, it can serve as a resource for
diverse purposes on later occasions. In other words, the knowledge generated in relation
to a particular practical problem is not limited in its relevance to that problem. And it
follows from this that any stimulus to knowledge production might carry evolutionary
advantage, not just the desire to solve practical problems but also intellectual puzzlement
or wonder. The second point is that gaining knowledge of the physical world is not a
linear process, in the sense that it can be planned and pursued as an organised scientific
route-march. Often, it necessarily involves exploratory activity, and follows an
unpredictable trajectory over substantial periods of time. Even the analogies of fitting
pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together or doing a crossword puzzle probably portray it as
more predictable than it is(18). This means that attempts to instrumentalise science - to
limit it to developing technological solutions to immediate problems - would lead to a
slowing in the growth of scientific knowledge(19). There is also some justification for the
'interest' which Habermas sees as governing the historical-hermeneutic sciences. It is
certainly true that a key stimulus for both history and anthropology was a realisation that
other groups of human beings, including our ancestors, lived in very different ways and
believed very different things from us. And it is true that expanding our understanding of
the diversity of human culture has served as a major rationale for those disciplines.
However, once again, this is not the only interest that has stimulated social inquiry. Even
before the 'historical revolution' of the seventeenth century (Fussner-Smith 1962; Burke
1969), Machiavelli and others had argued for the importance of history as a guide to
political action (see, for instance, Machiavelli 1961). Habermas seeks to combine these
two motives in his formulation of the constitutive interest underlying the historicalhermeneutic sciences. However, they are distinct in many respects; if not at odds. The
central thrust of historicism has been an attempt to understand the past in its own terms,
not in terms of present assumptions or purposes. And this continues to be the motive in
much academic history. It is also worth noting that historicist interest in the past, or the
anthropologist's interest in understanding other societies in their own terms, is very
closely related to the motive of curiosity. It is analogous to the fascination of nineteenth
century biologists, including Darwin, with the diversity of nature.
So, we can agree with Habermas, and others, that the pursuit of knowledge is a
natural activity for human beings, stimulated by a variety of different motives. However,
it is not true that each of these motives separately stimulates a different type of inquiry,
and provides it with a distinctive methodological framework. Moreover, it needs to be
underlined that the process of institutionalisation which has taken place, whereby some
inquiry has come to be pursued as an activity in its own right by specialists, has led to
considerable autonomy from extrinsic motives in terms of what problems are to be
investigated, and how. And progress has stemmed, in part, from this institutionalisation;
which is not to deny that it has also had negative consequences, particularly as regards
the immediate usability of the knowledge produced.
Against this background, I want to draw several distinctions. The first is between
inquiry which is subordinated to some other activity, on the one hand, and research,
defined as specialised inquiry, on the other. While research has its origins in other kinds
of inquiry, and shares features with them, it is important to recognise its distinctive
character. Within it, the production of knowledge is the sole immediate goal; and the
achievement of that goal is treated as the terminus of effort, rather than being just one
step in some larger activity.
A further sub-distinction is also required, I suggest, between research which is
scientific and that which is practical in orientation(20). Both forms of research have the
exclusive immediate goal of producing knowledge, but they vary in the relative weight,
and particular formulation, they give to the two criteria in terms of which the conclusions
of research are properly assessed: validity and relevance(21). Scientific research, while
being concerned to produce knowledge which has human relevance, places primary
emphasis on the likely validity of the knowledge generated. By contrast, practical
research is especially concerned with producing knowledge that is directly relevant to
practical activities; while yet still aiming to ensure a higher level of likely validity than
knowledge from other sources(22). Scientific knowledge is a collective product in a way
that practical research is not. A key element of the process by which it is validated is
through scrutiny by colleagues, both after as well as before publication. In a fully
developed scientific research community, only those knowledge claims which are
accepted as true by most members can be treated as valid. If there is substantial
disagreement, they must be treated as of uncertain validity in public pronouncements,
even by those who believe them to be true. This means that some of what is widely
accepted as true by the general public, or by the practitioners involved in an area of social
life being investigated, will be treated by researchers as of uncertain validity.
The essential role of the research community in validating scientific findings has
an important implication for the intellectual problems that this type of research can
address. Since members of the research community will have diverse social and political
backgrounds and geographical locations, research problems must have wide enough
interest to transcend particular backgrounds and locations. Studies which do not address
intellectual problems of general interest are likely to be ignored. Furthermore, such
problems tend to be ones that are difficult to resolve. A division of labour is often
necessary, with pursuit of these problems being broken down into steps that have little or
no lay relevance or interest in themselves.
All this tends to draw research priorities away from immediate practical
relevance; though this does not necessarily mean that scientific research addresses
problems that have no practical relevance. Specific research problems are selected to a
considerable extent on the basis of their intellectual interest: in terms of their relevance to
the body of knowledge and problems that make up a discipline, and according to whether
they are likely to be solvable in terms of the validity requirements set by the research
community. Thus, in scientific research, the balance of motivational relevance shifts to a
form of curiosity that is in large part esoteric: it depends on the background knowledge
and commitment that is distinctive to a particular research community. Nevertheless, the
central, over-arching problems addressed by a discipline will be intellectual issues of
wide relevance.
By contrast with this, practical research involves emphasis on the production of
findings which have direct relevance to specific, locally-contexted processes of decisionmaking. But this necessarily involves a trade-off in terms of the kind of findings which
can be produced. Because decisions have to be made at particular points in time, in order
to be useful the findings must be available when they are needed; and this places
significant constraints on the research process(23). There are two aspects to this. One is
that while some kinds of knowledge are within the reach of practical research, others are
not. Unavailable, in particular, are those that can only be achieved through a long-term
process of the kind allowed by scientific research. However, the second aspect of the
trade-off involved in practical research partly compensates for this limit on the questions
which practical research can answer. Practical researchers will usually take as valid much
of what practitioners believe to be true about the field in which they operate. Indeed, this
is a requirement if the knowledge produced is to be found directly relevan(24). And it
makes possible the answering of many questions that would not be currently answerable
on a scientific basis (albeit with a greater risk, though not always a high risk, that the
answers will be false).
The differences between practical and scientific research are summarised in Figure 1.
Figure 1 A Typology of Social Research
Scientific inquiry
The immediate audience is fellow
researchers
Practical inquiry
The immediate audience is practitioners
and policymakers of various kinds, as well
The aim is to contribute to a cumulating
body of knowledge about some aspect of
the world. While lay relevance is still a
requirement, this is interpreted in a
relatively weak sense, allowing the pursuit
of issues that are neither of obvious
immediate practical value nor a matter of
curiosity for most lay people
Findings are assessed primarily in terms of
validity; with a preference for erring on the
side of rejecting as false what is true, rather
than accepting as true what is false
as others who have a practical interest in
the particular issue
The aim is to provide knowledge that will
be of immediate practical use
Findings are assessed in terms of relevance
and timeliness as well as validity, with the
latter being judged on the basis of lay as
well as research-based knowledge
There is a further distinction to be drawn within scientific research. In his contrast
between educational and disciplinary forms of research, Bassey treats the latter as dealing
with 'sociological' and 'psychological' phenomena. Here, he can be read as recognising
that there is an important respect in which the social science disciplines actually
formulate the very phenomena they address. We might ask: in what sense is there an
economy, in the sense of a distinct set of phenomena, independently of the gaze of
economists? In what sense is there a "society" - as distinct from the activities of
individual people - without the gaze of sociologists?(25) In neo-Kantian terms social
science disciplines adopt distinctive perspectives on the world which select certain
aspects of reality for investigation and ignore others; and attend to only some of the many
relations among these. As part of this, they involve abstracted models of human beings
that are necessarily partial, of which the best known is homo economicus. This is a very
important point; given the way in which many social scientists tend to treat their own
perspective as if it exhausted reality, and thereby provided a comprehensive perspective
which could serve as the basis for practical or political action(26). I suggest that this kind
of selectivity or partiality is essential for one kind of scientific research: that which is
concerned with developing and testing theories about particular sets of social
variables(27). At the same time, it is important to notice that a great deal of social
research does not take this form. Rather, it is concerned with describing events and
actions in particular contexts, micro or macro, with explaining why these occurred, and
perhaps also with tracing their consequences(28). This is a quite different form of activity
from developing and testing theories; and I will refer to it as substantive, rather than
theoretical, scientific research. It draws on theories from the whole range of disciplines,
rather than being limited to any one. Moreover, it is framed more tightly by value
relevance than is theoretical research. Generally speaking, what is investigated has some
policy relevance, broadly defined.
Having outlined an alternative typology of kinds of social research, let me return
to the arguments of the authors I have been discussing. To a considerable extent, their
outlines of the nature of educational research correspond to what I have referred to as
practical research; and there is no reason why the meaning of "educational research"
should not be restricted in that way if so desired - so long as the value of scientific
research dealing with educationally relevant phenomena is also recognised.
However, there is one respect in which the match does not hold. On my account,
practical research cannot be educative in purpose; it cannot be geared directly to the goal
of educational improvement. Inquiry aimed at that goal would fall into the category of
inquiry-subordinated-to-another-activity. Now, once again, there is nothing wrong with
such inquiry; but it is different from research, whose sole immediate goal is the
production of knowledge. And there are gains to be derived from the specialisation of
research; notably that researchers are able to focus effort on the task of knowledge
production, and to build up expertise in pursuing that task(29). The key feature of
practical research, by comparison with inquiry-subordinated-to-other-activities, is that
while the practical values associated with the field being studied are used as a basis for
selecting relevant topics for investigation, and for choosing among descriptive and
explanatory frameworks, they are not treated as premisses for arguments. In other words,
the conclusions of such research are factual not normative: they are about what has
occurred, why, and with what effects; not about what is good or bad, and what should be
done. The closest research can come to answering these latter questions is in providing
conditional evaluations and prescriptions: statements to the effect that if we adopt a
particular framework of value assumptions then the research findings would imply a
particular evaluation and/or prescription.
In my view, it is very important for researchers to avoid giving the impression
that research can answer value questions. Problems about what is wrong and what is to be
done cannot be resolved entirely on the basis of empirical research; and researchers do
not have any distinctive authority to select value assumptions from which such
conclusions could be derived. Failure to recognise this, in other words the tendency to
treat research as capable of solving practical problems, encourages a neglect of the values
(and the scope for disagreement about them) built into education (and other fields) and/or
wrongly assigns authority to researchers in dealing with these matters. This is a tendency
that is at the heart of the currently influential evidence-based practice movement, but it is
also to be found within quite different trends, for example in so-called 'critical'
approaches to social research (see Foster et al 2000 and Hammersley 2000b).
Educational research should aim to be informative, not educative
To clarify my argument, I want to draw a distinction between informative and educative
activity; while recognising that there are similarities between the two. To be informative
is to provide knowledge that one believes will be of interest or use to an audience(30).
The central concerns are the validity and the relevance of the knowledge produced and
communicated. By contrast, to be educative is to act towards someone in a way that is
designed to help him or her learn something; and to change not just knowledge but also
attitudes and/or behaviour. This form of action will often involve supplying information,
but this is by no means the only kind of educative act, and will often be accompanied by
others; such as providing a model, asking questions, praising, admonishing, presenting
stimulus materials etc. Furthermore, even where supplying information serves as an
educative act it will be tailored specifically towards achieving the goal of facilitating
learning of some particular kind. In other words, the concern will not simply be the
validity and relevance of the knowledge being conveyed but its effect on the audience. Of
primary interest will be whether the result is a change in their understanding and/or their
behaviour in the desired direction, the encouragement of an appropriate attitude towards
what is to be learned etc. In other words, here the communication of information is
subordinated to an attempt to shape the understanding, attitude, and/or behaviour of the
audience(31).
So, educative action is aimed at changing people in some respect and is
specifically designed to do this; informative action is aimed solely at providing people
with information that is believed to be relevant to their concerns. Closely related to this
difference is that, where the supply of information forms part of education, the audience
will be more clearly defined than where the aim is simply to be informative. Indeed, in
the latter case the communication will effectively be addressed to "whoever it may
concern".
Now, I do not see this as a simple dichotomy; indeed, it is probably a dimension.
Thus, we can identify different forms of education, some of which seem close to
informative action, whereas others are far removed. In particular, to the extent that
learners are being addressed en masse, educators cannot tailor what they do to the
specific learning needs of individuals, to any great extent. Rather, what is said has to be
geared to the learning needs of the majority; so, a degree of standardisation is involved.
Moreover, the greater the number of learners addressed the more true this is: there are
differences in this respect between a teacher seeking to educate 30 children, a university
lecturer addressing 80 students, a distance-education lecturer writing materials for
hundreds or even thousands of students, and, finally, a text-book writer who is addressing
an even more undetermined audience. Moving along this dimension, not only does what
is said and done have to be aimed increasingly at some standard image of the audience
but there is also less feed-back available to enable correction of this image in light of the
actual characteristics of audience members. And the step from the text-book author to the
writer of a research review designed for a lay audience is not great; though I suggest that
there is still, or ought to be, a significant difference in intention and communicative
design.
So, the crucial distinction between educative and informative action, where both
involve the provision of information, is the degree to which there is an attempt to control
the effects of such provision. An important corollary of this is that concern with the
validity of the information does not have as high a salience in educative as it does in
informative action. This is not to say it has a low salience, simply that there are other
considerations that are also important, and that these may sometimes override it. Here,
the validity of the information conveyed is only important insofar as it is required for the
educative purposes being pursued. In other words, where the task is education, the main
issue in imparting information is whether it will bring about the sort of learning that is
deemed desirable(32). Furthermore, as already noted, the imparting of information is not
the only strategy that may be required to bring about learning. By contrast, in informative
action conveying knowledge is the prime consideration, and the main concerns are the
validity of the information and whether it is relevant to the audience"s concerns, actual or
ideal. Moreover, very often the intended audience will be relatively unspecific and openended in character.
On the basis of this distinction between informative and educative activity, it
seems to me that there are good reasons to restrict the role of the researcher to the former;
while recognising that those who are researchers will also often play other roles in which
an educative orientation operates. The core of my argument here is that the two goals,
being informative and being educative, pull in different directions. To try to do both
simultaneously will usually mean that at least one of them is not pursued as effectively as
it otherwise could have been. Specifically, to treat educational research as a form of
education is to lose the advantages to be gained from concentrating on the task of
producing knowledge; and, especially, trying to ensure its validity. It is also to make
excessive claims for the role of knowledge provision in education.
Conclusion
In this paper I have examined a number of arguments frequently put forward to sustain
the claim that educational research should be educative, in the sense of being designed to
improve educational policymaking or practice. One argument is semantic, concluding
that educational research must be evaluative and prescriptive because 'education',
'educational' etc are value-laden words. Another appeals to the nature of education as a
form of practice, suggesting that educational research cannot but reflect its practical
character. Finally, there is an argument which draws a distinction between social
scientific and educational research in terms of different, equally valuable, functions. I
showed that the first two arguments are unconvincing, and that while the third points to
an important distinction it does not formulate it adequately. In the remainder of the paper
I argued that while research has its origins in knowledge-constitutive interests on the part
of human beings, these do not set its methodological framework. At the same time, I
outlined an alternative typology of forms of inquiry, distinguishing between inquiry
subordinated to other activities and research as a relatively autonomous activity in its
own right; between scientific and practical research; and between theoretical and
substantive scientific research. However, I argued that all forms of inquiry, by definition,
must have the immediate aim of producing knowledge, rather than anything else. In
clarifying this argument, I distinguished between informative and educative activities,
arguing that this distinction involves an inevitable trade-off between a primary concern
with the validity and relevance of the knowledge imparted and a primary concern with
bringing about change of particular kinds in a learner. In these terms, research, even
practical research in the field of education, should always be aimed at being informative
rather than educative.
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Notes
1. Others, notably Gitlin, have also advocated 'critical' action research of this kind (see
Gitlin et al 1989; Gitlin and Russell 1994). Some feminist action research adopts a
similar approach, while yet being critical of much teacher research: see Weiner 1989.
2. Other writers also seem to adopt this more moderate position. See, for example, Pring
2000, Wilson and Wilson 2000, and Swann 2001. There are important differences among
them, though; notably in views about the nature of specifically educational research.
Thus, Bassey and Swann see it as empirical and scientific, whereas Pring and Wilson and
Wilson see much of it as conceptual and philosophical, as concerned with reminding us
of 'necessary truths' (Wilson and Wilson 2000:358).
3. There are some other issues involved which I will not address here. One concerns the
institutional implications for education departments in universities. A connected one
concerns the role of the philosophy of education and its relationship to social science. It is
perhaps no accident that most of those arguing that educational research should be
educative are philosophers of education by training or allegiance. For some discussion of
these other issues, see Pring 2000.
4. If this were not so, the Wilsons' own reference to the Nazis' 'conception of education'
(Wilson and Wilson 2000:356) would be ruled out. Leo Strauss puts forward a slightly
different, but related, line of argument to the Wilsons in his commentary on Weber's
doctrine of value freedom. He argues that "The prohibition against value judgments in
social science would lead to the consequence that we are permitted to give a strictly
factual description of the overt acts that can be observed in concentration camps and
perhaps an equally factual analysis of the motivation of the actors concerned: [but] we
would not be permitted to speak of cruelty. Every reader of such a description who is not
completely stupid would, of course, see that the actions described are cruel. The factual
description would, in truth, be a bitter satire" (Strauss 1953:49-52). This argument,
appealing to how others are likely to interpret what is written, is no more convincing than
that put forward by the Wilsons. It is certainly true that the account Strauss describes
might be taken as satire. It is also possible that it could be treated by some readers as
normalising, and perhaps even excusing, what went on in concentration camps. However,
there is no reason why the account must be read in this way. And the whole point of
Weber"s doctrine of value neutrality is that those who participate in scientific research
communities should be primarily concerned with the validity of descriptions,
explanations, and theories; not with evaluations or with the ethical or political
implications of what is described or explained. And so they should read the account as a
description not an evaluation. This is both possible, and desirable, according to Weber
because consensus cannot be assumed, or easily reached, about value issues. By contrast,
Strauss seems to assume that the moral character of actions can be perceived in much the
same way as their factual characteristics.
5. In putting forward a similar argument to the Wilsons, Pring recognises that education
will be seen differently by different practitioners, and concludes from this that
"Educational research cannot avoid the systematic reflection upon the controversial
values which pick out what is significant to study, what constitutes an educational
outcome, what is to count as value added" (Pring 2000:158). It is certainly true that
research on education must employ educationally relevant values to identify issues for
investigation, and must recognise diverse perspectives on those issues. However, it is not
clear why it must actually adopt, or develop an argument in favour of adopting, one view
of education rather than another. Furthermore, while it is true that philosophy can provide
a very important service in exploring the concepts employed in educational arguments,
and their implications, it is not clear on what basis it can establish what "education" truly
means; given the different senses in which that term is often used. Moreover, judgements
about what is and is not truly educational are practical ones which have to be made in
context and on the basis of both factual knowledge and value commitments. In my view,
philosophers can no more claim distinctive authority than social scientists in relation to
such judgements. Both simply provide important resources for making them. Here, I am
drawing a sharp distinction between academic research and other forms of practical
activity, a distinction which is outlined and justified later.
6. Aside from this, we might want to question whether the proper goal for educational
research can be determined by how we normally use the word "education". After all,
usage reflects the diverse purposes for which language is used and, of course, misused.
This seems to me to be a fundamental problem with much ordinary language philosophy:
it claims to be descriptive, but it is in fact evaluative; it is concerned with the proper use
of words, not just with their actual use; though, of course, proper use is assumed to be
immanent in actual usage. For discussion relevant to this issue, see Lyas 1971.
8. See Storing 1962 for similar criticism of modern political science along Straussian
lines.
9. For simplicity I have omitted reference at this point to a third type of science which
Aristotle mentions: productive science or techne.
My argument here also goes against that of Joanna Swann in her contribution to this
symposium (Swann 2001).
10. And Carr effectively accepts this when he appeals to Habermas's notion of critical
science, which I discuss later in this section. On the issue of laws and natural science, see
Cartwright 1983.
11. See Habermas 1987 and 1974:Intro. This typology was also developed by Apel, see
Apel 1979 and 1980. It is worth noting that Habermas does not seem to see critical social
inquiry as taking the form of action research. At one point he comments that the reliance
of the social sciences on understanding through dialogue "makes disciplinary constraints
more necessary than ever. The fashionable demand for a type of Òaction researchÓ, that
is to combine political enlightenment with research, overlooks that the uncontrolled
modification of the field is incompatible with the simultaneous gathering of data in that
field, a conditions which is also valid for the social sciences" (Habermas 1974:11).
12. See the Review Symposium on "Knowledge and Human Interests", Philosophy of the
Social Sciences, 2, 1972, pp193-270; McCarthy 1978:chs 2 and 3; and Keat 1981. See
also the discussion in Outhwaite 1994, esp pp32-6. Both McCarthy and Outhwaite note
that much subsequent development in Habermas's thinking has stemmed from
recognition of the problems with this initial formulation of types of inquiry. However, it
is not clear that the problems have been resolved: see Jay 1988:180, note 39.
13. For an outline of that distinction, see Hammersley 1989:ch1.
14. It is certainly true that in the twentieth century the natural sciences became
'industrialised', and as a result more and more closely determined by technological
priorities (see Ravetz 1971). However, this does not imply that they are necessarily
guided by those priorities. Indeed, across the nineteenth and twentieth centuries many
areas of natural scientific inquiry have not been industrialised in this way. In any case,
Habermas denies that he is claiming "anything like a direct derivation", what is involved
is "an indirect relationship" (Habermas 1974:20). It is difficult to understand what this
means. An "interest" must surely imply a direct relationship in the sense that while there
are intermediate steps each is geared toward serving the interest.
15. A classic soure here is Popper"s The Open Society Volume 2 Hegel and Marx
(Popper 1945). Despite its sometimes crude form of argument, and occasional errors, this
book nevertheless raises very serious questions about the forms of "historicism" put
forward by Hegel and Marx. See also Popper 1957.
16. The significance of the phrase 'in order to' can be brought out by comparing its usage
in the argument that scientific research collects evidence 'in order to verify' hypotheses.
Verification is a possible outcome of the testing process, and other things being equal a
very desirable one; but it is not its goal . Similarly, the improvement of education may be
an outcome of research, but it is not its goal; however desirable.
17. Moreover, this applies to the social as well as to the natural field. We should
remember that the much-maligned concept of social control, which was central to North
American sociology in the first half of the twentieth century, was intended as a counter to
the notion of laissez-faire. The idea was that there should be collective control; and for
many people, following Dewey, this was to be democratic control in a broad social sense.
On the concept of social control, see Smith 1988. On this aspect of Dewey's thinking, see
Westbrook 1991.
18. For the jigsaw puzzle analogy, see Polanyi 1962; for that of the crossword puzzle see
Haack 1993.
19. The growth in scientific knowledge in recent centuries seems to have stemmed to a
considerable extent from the way in which curiosity as an interest was effectively
institutionalised in the various philosophical societies established by scientists, and later
in university departments. Moreover, this interest has continued to be important even now
that technological payoff has become the major rationale for university science. Of
course, the more research is constrained by the demands of practical problems, and the
more the institutional barriers that had previously protected scientists are dismantled, the
smaller the role that curiosity will play.
20. Terminology here is problematic. There may be some objection to the narrow sense
of the term "scientific" which I am using. However, it seems to me that there is some gain
from this: the sense of the word "scientific" is frequently over-stretched. Furthermore, the
only alternative adjective I can think of that could be used here is "academic", and in
terms of present popular usage (even among academics themselves) this would be to
invite the implication of irrelevance if not uselessness; which would be inaccurate.
21. For justification of this evaluative framework, see Hammersley 1998.
22. This need not mean that the aim of practical research is simply to meet the demands
of policymakers and practitioners for information of specific kinds. Elsewhere, I have
distinguished between contract-based, "dedicated" research and that which is
autonomously designed to meet a public need for information relevant to policy issues
(Hammersley 2000c).
23. In fact it is not unknown for a change to occur in the information needs that a piece of
practical research was designed to meet even before the research has been completed.
24. Note that this does not mean that practical researchers cannot question practitioner
assumptions, only that they must do this on grounds that are relevant to practitioners; not
solely because those assumptions are not generally accepted as valid by the relevant
research community.
25. For this argument, see Burns 1967.
26. Probably the most imperialistic social science in this respect has been economics,
which - aided by powerful social forces - has managed to a large extent to take over the
mode of thinking of national governments, and has invaded the territory of other social
sciences: see Weber 1980 and Fine 1999. However, this kind of imperialism is by no
means restricted to economics. On sociological imperialism, see Strong 1979 and
Hammersley 1999. Of course, the imperialism of each discipline is driven to some extent
by opposition to the imperialisms of the others.
27. I will leave aside here the question of whether there can be distinctive sociological
laws (see Homans 1967), and the question of the character of social scientific laws
generally. On the latter issue, the long running debate about the nature of economic
theory is instructive: see Rosenberg 1976 and Caldwell 1982:ch6.
28. This is not always as clear as it might be because very often social scientists do not
draw any distinction between the two types of scientific research I am distinguishing
here. For more on this distinction, see Hammersley 2000c.
29. There is another side of the problem as well: to model inquiry-subordinated-toanother-activity on scientific research is to impose a form of rationality on practical
activities that may be inappropriate. This could be a problem with applying a Popperian
approach to understanding teaching as a form of action research, as in Joanna Swann"s
contribution to this symposium (Swann 2001). Aristotle, and perhaps even Machiavelli,
provide an important corrective here.
30. I am treating 'informative' here as an intention word, rather than as an achievement
word; so that, while someone may aim to be informative, the target audience may
nevertheless not find what is provided informative.
31. Closely related to such educational intent, but different again, is a concern with
persuasion. What I mean by "education" here is close to what Plato refers to as "the art of
dialectic", see the Phaedrus 275c-277a.
32. In some advanced academic forms of education there may be a very close relationship
between concern about the validity of information supplied and with whether the learning
aimed at is brought about; but not all education is primarily concerned with increasing
understanding of factual or conceptual knowledge.