Abstract
Stuart Hall was the seminal figure in the development of cultural studies during the second half of the 20th century. Despite his contributions to theory and research, he insisted on being called an “intellectual” rather than an “academic” or “scholar.” This special issue will focus on key aspects of Hall’s thinking and modes of working as a critical intellectual—in particular, on how he engaged in research (modes of investigation) and how he offered his findings and reflections to diverse audiences (modes of presentation). We will explore his contributions to cultural studies as a site for trans-disciplinary emancipatory research, including cultural critique and critical pedagogy—that is, as a space for practices that offer radical alternatives to traditional scholarship. We will seek to understand his intellectual practices and to critically reflect on their usefulness today—especially for research in pursuit of social justice.
With regard to
How were Hall’s research projects organized? In particular, why does he privilege collective work at all phases of the research process, from defining the key question(s) and choosing the research tool(s) to “writing-up?”
What are his objects of inquiry and how are they chosen? Why does he insist on studying “articulations,” “contingencies,” and “the contradictory stony ground of the present conjuncture?” Why does he insist that doing historical research from within cultural studies should involve producing “histories of the present?”
What is meant by Hall’s statements that to study a particular problem, he had to take a “detour through theory” (which may or may not include empirical research)? What key concepts and assumptions are employed in this “detour?” What sense can we make of this dialectical practice that begins with the concrete, then moves to the abstract, and then returns to the concrete (this time, in its complexity, its multiple determinations)? What do we make of his insistence on a method that is both materialist and anti-essentialist at the same time?
What are the methodological implications of his refusal to think “the psychic” as separate from “the social” and “the cultural” as separate from structures and relations of power?
And we ask: In what ways and to what extent are these questions, assumptions, concepts, and practices relevant to us today?
With regard to
On what grounds does Stuart Hall offer us the short interventionist essay, the co-authored text, and the edited volume rather than the single-authored monograph? On what grounds might we adopt such intellectual practices with their plurality of voices, multiple “authors,” and inherent incompleteness? How can we learn from Hall about producing texts which are always provisional, offer no final conclusions, or “no guarantees”?
What is the place of the interview in Hall’s intellectual and pedagogical practice? What do we make of critical dialogue as an intellectual practice?
What tools should we employ to communicate ideas? And who should be our primary audience(s)? Throughout much of his career, Hall addressed audiences both inside and beyond the confines of the academy (especially through television programs and also through public speeches, reports, etc.). This required learning to speak with multiple tongues—without “dumbing down,” that is, adopting modes of address predicated on the assumption that the general public cannot understand complex ideas.
Listening to and watching Stuart Hall speak is a much different experience than reading him. We are taught at university that good arguments are logically constructed and supported by evidence. Hall’s oratory—he was a phenomenal public speaker—reminds us that effective, persuasive communication also depends on engaging audiences through performance and mastery of language. What are we to make of this lesson (which the Right seems to grasp so much better than the Left)? How can we take account of the role of oration—that is, the speaking voice as rhetoric and performance—in our intellectual work?
Edward Said famously said that it is the responsibility of the critical intellectual to “speak truth to power”—that is, to interrogate, contest, and subvert those received ideas, commonsensical beliefs, and hegemonic myths that help to sustain structures of inequality and injustice. Stuart Hall echoed this sentiment, seeing research and teaching as modes of cultural critique and critical pedagogy. We want to examine this ethical-political stance and pose the following question: What are the barriers and opportunities for engaging in such practices today (while, like Hall, avoiding the arrogance of assuming that our truth has a capital “T”)?
Stuart Hall had a long-term engagement with artists, especially those working in photography, film, and digital media—and he had a very serious interest in music. However, he did not simply view the arts as a source of personal enjoyment.” Rather, he encouraged artistic practice—especially “Black British art”—as a mode of reflexive research and critical engagement; as a way of challenging racism, sexism, xenophobia; and so on. What can we learn from this?
Although reflexivity is not a key theme in Hall’s early writing, it becomes increasingly important in his later years. He inserts himself into the picture—critically reflecting on himself as a diasporic intellectual of a particular generation, whose formation began in the class and racial system of colonial Jamaica. What are we to make of this mode of reflexivity, which seeks self-understanding while avoiding egotism and self-indulgence?
If you are interested in possibly contributing to this special issue, please submit an abstract (no more than 300 words) via email to all three guest editors:
Norman Denzin (
Michael Giardina (
Glenn Jordan (