Abstract
Both Robert Innis’s and Svend Brinkmann’s works bring to the fore a notorious, but usually forgotten, topic on cultural psychology: the normative framework that regulates the relation between the researcher and the phenomena studied. In fact, these ‘models of human flourishing’, using authors’ terminology, are scarcely discussed in comparison to theoretical, methodological, and empirical issues. In the present paper, a number of potential reasons for this omission are explored. In particular, it is argued that discussing the normative and pragmatic side of the discipline appears as risky in two directions: turning cultural psychology into activism, and conducting value-laden research. For this purpose, the case of Arthur Jensen's 1969 controversial publication on IQ is discussed. This example is useful to reveal the challenges that cultural psychology must face in order to become more aware of its normative orientations; particularly the pragmatic, social impact associated to conduct research on human issues. Ultimately, it is shown that the apparent risks mentioned before emerge from implicit, outdated conceptions of both activism and scientific activity.
In his impeccable “Between philosophy and cultural psychology: Pragmatist and Semiotic Reflections on the Thresholds of Sense”, Robert Innis (2016) covers with unusual theoretical depth a number of the most challenging questions for the advance of cultural psychology 1 —from meaning, to affect, to semiosis, to materiality. As the title of his work indicates, Innis addresses these multiple issues through the concept of ‘thresholds of sense’, i.e. “the fundamental matrices in which meaning arises for human beings and gets embodied in cultural forms” (p. 9), which for the author also is “the principal theme of cultural psychology and of a philosophical semiotics.” (p. 9) Notwithstanding his minute attention to theory, Innis makes clear along his work that conceptual issues—especially the sometimes-convoluted alleys of semiotics—are far from being the only knots that cultural psychology must face as a discipline centered in human matters. In fact, as he convincingly argues (pp. 7, 29, 41, et passim), one of the main challenges for the conceptualizations made by cultural psychology is dealing with “an essential tension between analysis and advocacy” (p. 21, emphasis added).
Regarding this tension, Innis (2016) keenly claims that: “(…) cultural psychology as a companion human science is not, indeed cannot be, indifferent to human practices and should not consider them merely as exhibits in a kind of museum of curiosities, examined for our amusement or professional or political advancement” (p. 7). Thus, an analytic, distant position to human phenomena does not suffice as the general orientation of the discipline. However, the author also notes that: “(…) in light of the great variation in value schemes, which cultural psychology has studied and uncovered, it is problematic just where cultural psychology is to look for a normative frame or just what such a frame would look like.” (p. 7) In this sense, it is anything but clear what would be the exact set of values, and the human practices associated to it, that cultural psychology should advocate for. Ultimately, this tension is summed-up by Innis in a striking question: “How, then, are we as reflective inquirers to balance tolerance and sympathetic understanding with critical recoil and disapproval when faced with the horrors of history’s butcher block, to allude to Hegel’s provocative remark?” (p. 8)
Through this question, Innis (2016) fully exposes the complexities that cultural psychology faces when understanding and acting within the social world. First and foremost, as a human science, the discipline cannot stand apart, indifferent to the human practices and meaning-making processes that addresses. However, cultural psychology—in particular—has emphasized through its manifold research how diverse such phenomena can be. 2 Innis (2016), nonethelesss, notes that within such diversity “(…) what matters for most is themselves and their conception of themselves as well as the conception others have of them” (p. 6); thus emphasizing the perennial relevance of phenomenology and self-interpretation for the discipline. Yet, as seen, validating and acknowledging the existence of diversity, i.e. an analytic-descriptive role, are far from unequivocally set what difference is cultural psychology trying to make in the world.
Therefore, going back to Innis’s analysis-advocacy tension (2016), it seems aporetic to theoretically or empirically determine what should be the framework for the discipline to support and promote. Such impossibility, Innis claims, is based in a rather simple reason: determining the approach of the discipline to the multifarious nature of human, cultural life is a normative rather than a positive, empirical issue. In his words: “As I see it, the point of cultural psychology, and of a great part of philosophy, is not purely theoretical or contemplative, and it is not value-free.” (2016, p. 6, emphasis added)
It is at this point—the normative nature of (cultural) psychology—where the ideas developed by Innis (2016) converge with those expressed by Svend Brinkmann in his Cultural psychology and its values (2016). There, he presents a thorough argumentation on why psychology at large—and cultural psychology in particular—are ultimately normative disciplines. On this Brinkmann (2016) says that: “I agree with Innis that psychologists, cultural and otherwise, simply cannot do psychology without presupposing some ideal of human flourishing, or normativity more generally, which can of course be more or less implicit.” (p. 377) Furthermore, he presents the opposite case, namely what would be a psychology without a normative framework: “Without moral normativity, psychology degenerates into physiology or perhaps neuroscience. The organs of the body simply function or not, and the synapses of the brain simply fire or not; they have no reason for doing what they do (and thus demand causal explanation).” (p. 379) In brief, as also noted by Innis (2016, p. 6), the author makes clear that any attempt to strip (cultural) psychology out of any normative framework will lead the discipline astray—into a purely contemplative role. Following this, Brinkmann (2016) proposes two universal–yet thin–sources of normativity for the discipline: Holiday’s core-language games (p. 10), namely truth-telling, justice, and ritual language games; and Løgstrup’s ethical demand (p. 12).
Summarizing, both Brinkmann’s (2016) and Innis’s (2016) reflections are inviting us to think and discuss cultural psychology outside its usual academic box—into pragmatic and normative terms. This does not mean to abandon theories, methodologies, and empirical data in the least. It rather stands as a reminder that all the latter necessarily exist in connection to broader ethical, social perspectives toward the phenomena studied, which ultimately express the interest and personal commitment of the practitioners behind the discipline. 3 This is even clearer in Innis’s remark (2016, p. 7) on how cultural psychology does not seem—nor want—to follow the path that Wittgenstein drew for analytic philosophy, 4 namely just clearing conceptual confusions and leaving everything in the world as it is. Innis (2016), on the contrary, places cultural psychology along a pragmatist orientation of philosophy, in which: “The ‘problems of philosophy’ should be, and are, our problems, vitally important issues embedded in what John Dewey called ‘problematic situations’ that bear upon what for the pragmatist tradition are the defining matrices for ‘the conduct of life'.” (p. 1, emphasis in the original)
Furthermore, considering that: “The cultural psychologist, as inquirer, is also informed by a world-picture and a self-picture and a schema of values, which informs inquiry in its role as a proponent and model of human flourishing.” (Innis, 2016, pp. 5–6, emphasis added), it is puzzling to think how seldom open discussions on such model(s) are hold. Although, as Brinkmann (2016) notes, normative perspectives toward human flourishing “can of course be more or less implicit” (p. 2), the question remains: why it has been so complicated for cultural psychologists to overtly discuss the impact that the discipline is ultimately trying to make in the world through its research?
Such difficulty is probably related to the concerns that this question is likely to arise: “does it imply that cultural psychology is a covert form of activism?” Or maybe, “is this a form of advocating for doing biased, value-laden research where the ends justify the means?” In the following I look to tackle these concerns in order to show that discussing on the pragmatic side of cultural psychology, and its potential social impact is definitely necessary—and probably overdue. For this purpose, it becomes necessary to complement the ideas presented by Brinkmann (2016) and Innis (2016), specifically by thinking on cultural psychology’s normative framework as something tightly connected to the multiple social worlds where the discipline exists—as it might have concrete impact on those environments.
Human scientists: Either scholars or activists?
The first of the concerns mentioned above, the risk of activism, is an issue that does not haunt cultural psychology only but social sciences and humanities at large. 5 In brief, this relates to the reasonable suspicion on whether social research is being conducted to reveal something unknown from the human-cultural world, or just to give support to a certain group of interests—through the rhetorical power that science gives (see Hilgartner, 2000). In terms of Brinkmann (2016) and Innis (2016), for cultural psychology this could represent the risk of a normative framework that does not orient or complement the inquiry anymore, but rather turns the research made by the discipline into a mere instrument for spreading the framework itself.
For instance, let us consider the paper written by Arthur Jensen in 1969: “How Much Can We Boost IQ and Scholastic Achievement?” Despite its apparent educational title, in this paper Jensen (1969) put forward the controversial argument that the observed IQ gap between white-skinned and black-skinned school-aged children is ultimately based on genetic rather than environmental factors. Two implications, according to him, follow from this finding: first, there is no point in making any instructional, pedagogical effort to shorten this gap, like the US Head Start Program (see Bierman et al., 2008); secondly, white-skinned people have an overall greater IQ, and therefore are essentially more intelligent than black-skinned persons. As expected, social and academic outrage broke out against Jensen’s (1969) ideas—even more so in a decade marked by the Civil Rights Movement in the United States. Thus in a case like this the question emerges naturally: did Jensen just present empirical findings based on available psychometrical data? Or was he rather trying to defend an alleged racial superiority of white-skinned people, based on resources that he knew would be appealing to the public debate?
On this questioning, Jensen promptly reacted by claiming that he was presenting unbiased research. Accordingly, he actively defended his postulates against its critics, claiming that, in fact, they were the ones conveying an obscured political agenda—particularly Stephen J. Gould and his ‘Marxist sociology of science’ (see Jensen, 1982). Moreover, as of 2006, six years before passing, he kept his position almost untouched (Rushton & Jensen, 2006). However, according to Miller (1994), Jensen received major funding over three decades from the Pioneer Fund. This grantor has been highlighted as a common funding source for research oriented to promote studies on race and biological determinism, which usually show how white-skinned populations excel above those black-skinned. Altogether, there is reasonable evidence for considering any of the two positions as viable options. Hence, it does not seem possible to determine for certain what was the role actually played by Jensen: either a truth-seeker human scientist or an interested activist. Not unless we read between the lines of this dichotomy.
In order to be presented as dichotomic, the former roles—scientist and activist—must firstly be established as contradictory positions. Being or acting like one needs to make impossible be or act like the other. Yet, why do we promptly assume that the role of scientist is mutually exclusive to the role of an activist? While I certainly agree with the distinction between what a scientist—human or otherwise—does, and the preparation required for becoming one, from what activism involves, it is clear that this is not the same of assuming them as opposites. This is why mutual exclusiveness, i.e. having absolutely nothing in common, is crucial for this matter. A strong reason for assuming such relation for activists and scientists is the lay image we have of them. For the former, it is likely to portray them as a crowd of people carrying signs in a demonstration, pushing forward an idea or cause with absolute certainty—if not fanaticism. For the latter, on the other hand, we probably think in phlegmatic persons that speak only through the results of their research—acknowledging its potential limitations and completely open to change their minds. If so depicted, there is little doubt that they should be seen as complete opposites.
However, if less cartoonish images are presented both for scientists and activists, this absolute opposition becomes less evident. For instance, taking into the account the thorough work made by Shapin (2008) in his “The Scientific Life”, we come to learn that the uptight, composed image of the scientist is mostly a necessary public projection. Which does not make it false by any means, but it certainly reveals how incomplete it is in relation to the considerably messier backstage work that leads to neat, publishable results. Interestingly, a relevant part of this backstage is subtly captured by Shapin’s book (2008) subtitle —“A Moral History of a Late Modern Vocation”. Doing a similar exercise with the case of the activist, the abovementioned image of an unthinking demonstrator just does not make justice to the achievements that activist movements have reached. What connects, for example, movements like the US Civil Rights with South Africa’s Anti-apartheid are not only exceptional leaders—King and Mandela—but also that those who participated in them remained adamant behind the (normative) idea of considering all persons as equals, regardless of their skin color. In the opposite direction, it is worth noting how many communist activists in France changed their views after coming to know the atrocities of Stalin’s regime (see Judt, 2010). This case shows that advocating for an idea does not equal either to be blind to its consequences or becoming unable to change positions about it over time. Thus presented, activism could also be associated to social change rather than an uncritical stand toward a certain social issue. Hence, the previously mentioned ‘risk of activism’ for cultural psychology might be such only if an extreme form of activism is assumed.
When all the former is taken into account, thus seeing scientists as not so aseptic and activists as less radical, it becomes interesting to go back to the controversial work of Jensen (1969) and think again about his role. Looking from the more nuanced perspective presented, it does not appear as contradictory—or mutually exclusive—to think about a scientist whose work is done according to a given normative framework. On the contrary, it becomes odd to think about a human scientist that conducts his or her research with no interest, or position towards the phenomena at stake; which, as seen, does not equate to take a radical position that involves making up data and conclusions in order to validate such perspective. Ultimately, the former was exactly the point made both by Brinkmann (2016) and Innis (2016): it is not possible to think human sciences—and therefore human scientists—without a normative frame orienting them. Hence, the second of the risks mentioned at the beginning of this section, namely promoting value-laden research, appears as a reminder of an aseptic view of the scientific activity (cf. Shapin, 2008) rather than a reasonable concern for cultural psychology.
The Jensen controversy, however, presents even another angle, which should not be left out of consideration: the fact that the set of values endorsed by Jensen, in one way or another, promoted racism. This is a necessary reminder that the effort made in this article, namely showing that human scientists are—and should be—involved and partake in the social environments they dwell, does not imply that any form of participation must be uncritically supported—regardless of its pragmatic consequences. Yet where should that line exactly be drawn for cultural psychologists, is something that escapes this work. Therefore, and regrettably, the question that puzzled Innis (2016), and for which Brinkmann (2016) offered thin guidelines—what is the normative framework for cultural psychology to endorse—, remains unanswered in this article. Despite this, a new element has been added to this question: there is no possibility for discussing such set of values without looking at its concrete effects in the social world.
Concluding remarks
Why to bring forth the case of Arthur Jensen? What has to do a 45 years old controversy that involved an IQ psychometrist with contemporary cultural psychology? While the example presented is certainly distant from cultural psychology in many respects, it is undoubtedly helpful for looking at the challenges implied in making our discipline more aware of its models of human flourishing—as proposed by Brinkmann (2016) and Innis (2016)—but also of its social implications. As a whole, the case of Jensen presents a mixture where the social influence of human sciences, the values orienting this research, and the pragmatic consequences implied of it, all converge at the same time. It certainly is an extreme case, where all the latter is polarized—high influence, racism, and notorious consequences—; but it is precisely this what should make easier for cultural psychologists to look at the stakes involved in this activity. Even if, at the moment, cultural psychology has an ephemeral value at the epistemic market 6 (Valsiner, 2009).
In sum, and contrary to the popular belief, it seems that there is no—and never has been—such thing as an ivory tower. At worst, it might be a metaphor for the disconnection between academia and the issues that are pressing for the social world. But presenting members of academia—cultural psychologists included—as persons that are not related to any worldly matters is definitely misleading of how contemporary science works. In this sense, looking for a normative framework for cultural psychology is, at the same time, a search for a reference for conducting research, and also guidelines on how to make a difference in the social word. As noted by Brinkmann (2016), moral orientations are not just rules to know observe, but the basis for conducting in everyday life.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) disclosed receipt of the following financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article: the Becas Chile—Doctorado en el Extranjero grant program from the National Commission of Scientific and Technologic Research of Chile (CONICYT—Chile).