Sociology as Conversation: Zygmunt Bauman’s Applied Sociological Hermeneutics

The Content of the Conversations

These three texts conduct their conversations slightly differently. On Education includes 20 chapters containing Mazzeo’s initial comments followed by Bauman’s response, whereas Liquid Surveillance and Moral Blindness are made up of fewer chapters (seven and five respectively) grouped around a theme with each containing multiple contributions from both Bauman and his interlocutor. I now discuss each text in turn.

On Education takes as its starting point the changing nature of knowledge in liquid modernity. As Bauman puts it ‘nothing is believed to stay here forever, nothing seems to be irreplaceable. Everything is born with … a “use-by-date”’ (p. 20) and this is as true of education as of any other commodity in liquid modernity. Consequently, there is a shift in the type of learning required. Solid modernity defined learning as the providing of information according to a determined life path by early years education, whereas liquid modernity values education where what is learnt is the ability to learn and, more importantly, to forget, in order to achieve constantly changing goals (pp. 16–21). Therefore, lifelong education in the form of ‘re-skilling’ becomes increasingly valued. The possibility for education as self-understanding and critique (Gregory Bateson’s ‘third level’) is removed in favour of being ‘inventive’, understood as beneficial to the economy.

As this indicates, Bauman and Mazzeo see the changes to education as occurring in unison with neoliberalism. Since ‘successive echelons of youth mean a perpetual supply of unspoilt “virgin land” ready for cultivation’ (p. 55) education itself is marketized to produce the next group of neoliberal consumers. However, in an era where employment opportunities post-education are limited, an expensive education is no guarantee of social mobility, instead inequalities are perpetuated ‘by the combination of consumerism with rising inequality’ (p. 91). Therefore, there emerges a generation of well-educated, yet unemployed and with no immediate source of salvation, young people. The plight of this generation is made worse by the lack of effective agency to solve it by states, who ‘stripped of much of their power … are unable to give serious attention to the genuine causes of people’s misery’ (p. 84) and, as a result, disingenuously blame ‘immigrants’ thereby perpetuating a condition of ‘mixophobia’ (pp. 4–5). Such a situation for Bauman is the explosive cocktail which leads to the young and well-educated taking to the streets and building ‘tents full of sound and fury in search of signification’ (p. 135) such as Occupy. Conversely for Bauman, education has the potential to make us aware of the social impacts of our choices in a neoliberal era by developing the critical faculties. In doing so it can open the possibility for ‘rebellion’ or a ‘genuine cultural revolution’ (pp. 25–30).

This text is a forceful defence of the value of education removed from the pressures of the consumer economy. As Weber put it, the role of the educator is to ‘teach his [sic] students to recognise “inconvenient” facts’ (1991[1922]: 147) and Bauman appears to be defending the same conception of education as potentially inconvenient for neoliberalism. As he puts it, such an education takes ‘minutes to destroy, years to build’ (p. 41), which the increased commodification of the education system demonstrates.

However, this book also shows some of the drawbacks of the conversational method, most notably the extremely fragmented nature of the text where many of its chapters are not linked to its overall theme of education. This is not to say some of these chapters – notably ones concerning the works of Saramago, Proust and monotheism – are not interesting, rather that their link to education is strained. In this sense On Education is closer to Bauman’s recent collection This is Not a Diary (2012). As the latter text was made up primarily of blog posts, it and On Education share the problem of a lack of development of ideas due to limited space. For example, Bauman’s point about the ‘cultural revolution’ possible in education seems to assume a critical, dare I say sociological, education. It does not seem clear how an education in a topic such as economics or business and management would lead towards a cultural revolution, nor is much consideration given to inequality within education. A text which developed some of these ideas further would perhaps have been more welcome.

Liquid Surveillance overcomes this issue by a more consistent application of the conversational method. As mentioned earlier, rather than favouring short pieces, this text groups conversations, characterized by multiple comments from both authors, into larger chapters. The titular theme of this study is, as Lyon puts it, ‘an orientation, a way of situating surveillance developments’ within liquid modernity (p. 2), which focuses on the internet and expansion of social media. Social media is seen as unique for Bauman due to individuals with ‘enthusiastic devotion and deafening applause’ (p. 22) providing their own personal information. Whilst this is partly a result of the desire to ‘be noticed’ (p. 23) it also part of a wider trend found within Bauman’s conception of consumer society to become ‘simultaneously promoters of commodities and the commodities they produce’ (p. 31). The same trend can be seen on websites such as Amazon which, based on the information provided via previous preferences, build a personalized site of products ‘just for you’ (pp. 125–6).

As long-time readers of Bauman’s work will know, this is linked to a wider process of the private colonizing the public. However, befitting the theme of the study, this is also seen as a change in the nature of surveillance. Whilst Lyon wishes to speak of a ‘post-panopticon’ era, Bauman advocates the connection of three concepts. Firstly there is a ‘DIY panopticon’ where the technologies of public display create self-surveillance and a constant connection to the public realm, especially the workplace. Secondly, there is the ban-opticon where those seen as causes of ‘disorder’ (most notably migrants) are kept out via new forms of technological surveillance. And finally there is the synopticon where private information is supplied in an attempt to produce the most appealing commodity. In this sense surveillance has the benefit of providing security to individuals but only at the expense of removing moral consideration from others who come to be seen as ‘less deserving’ then ourselves (pp. 59–74).

As already noted, this study benefits from a greater application of the conversational method. Lyon is successful in advancing the conversation and clarifying some of Bauman’s claims. For example, rather than see individuals passively obeying the demands of social media and new technology, Lyon’s questioning leads Bauman to clarify that ‘computers are not the culprits’; rather, social media and personalized sites reflect our ‘existential predicament’ (p. 49) and are new forms for dealing with the Freudian conflict of security and freedom in modernity. Given Bauman’s well-known tendency to draw stark contrasts between conflicting factors, in this case stages of modernity, which Davis terms Bauman’s ‘will-to-dualism’ (2008: 108), some extra clarification on the nature of changes is welcome. Lyon’s useful role as a conversation partner can also be seen in the final chapter of this text, ‘Agency and Hope’. I return to this in the conclusion.

Moral Blindness builds on key themes of the previous two texts: the removing of moral consideration from others and the nature of contemporary politics as ‘taking to the streets’. It does so through the lens of a concept present in much of Bauman’s work: adiaphorization. This is ‘strategies of placing, intentionally or by default, certain acts and/or omitted acts … outside the moral-immoral axis … In popular wisdom, that set of strategems tends to be collected under the rubric of “ends justify the means”’ (p. 40). Whereas solid modernity saw adiaphorization created by bureaucracy, markets now play this role. With their extension, prima-facie moral concerns, such as the growth of inequality, are seen purely in economic terms (p. 43). Reflecting the findings of On Education, the marketization of universities is also highlighted here with its result of reducing the value of knowledge purely to a market commodity rather than a social ‘good’ (pp. 139–40). Consequently, the gaining of a degree has been adiaphorized, it does not ‘recognize any value that is not commercial’ or lacking ‘sales potential’ (p. 142).

To fully understand how this has happened, Bauman and Donskis consistently return to politics. This ‘being an art of the possible’ has combined with individualization to provide no social ‘place for moral evaluation and regulation’ (pp. 13–14). This form of adiaphorized politics is also part of a wider disconnection of power and politics, with the state unable to act as the agency of collective action and, potentially, moral action. As a result, visions of a ‘good society’ are abdicated and ‘ad-hoc’ alliances based around indignation rather than an alternative are turned to because of their seeming promise of immediate agency. Topically, Bauman and Donskis both place a certain amount of blame for this at the feet of an ineffectual European Union, while seeing the concept of ‘Europe’ as the only way the problem can be solved (pp. 168–218).

Moral Blindness embodies many of the strengths and the weaknesses highlighted in the previous two texts. However, it is to be welcomed as a study in the sociology of morality and a useful introduction for those unfamiliar with Bauman’s concept of adiaphorization. Nevertheless, a greater discussion of the exact morality of the markets may have been fruitful. Whilst markets are posited here as adiaphorizing, it may be equally possible, and perhaps more fruitful, to think of them as internalizing a very specific type of individualized, neoliberal, morality. Those familiar with Bauman’s work will know this is discussed in other texts. Due to the briefness of comments here it is left unelaborated.

Conclusion: The Value of Sociology as Conversation

These three books are welcome contributions to Bauman’s ever expanding output. However, as highlighted above, those familiar with Bauman’s work will be aware of much, if not all, of what these texts contain. Rather, as the introduction to this review suggested, the lesson to draw from these texts is the value of the applied sociological hermeneutic method: sociology as conversation. Therefore, to conclude the review, I will assess the three texts on this basis.

Sometimes this method can be frustrating by reducing the space given to certain topics which could be greater developed in a more traditional piece; for example, concerning the morality of markets or the role of education in rebellion. Nevertheless, it is possible to see two benefits in this method: firstly, both partners are encouraged to sharpen and clarify many of their key points, as in the above example of Bauman’s conception of the deterministic nature of technology. Secondly, the hermeneutic value of the conversation resides in the ability of the conversation partners to push each other in new directions.

This second point can be seen most fruitfully at the end of Liquid Surveillance. Returning to the definition of sociological hermeneutics, I highlighted the fact that Bauman saw this as a conversation with the subjects of sociological analysis, ‘beyond the boundaries of professional sociology proper’. Bauman’s interlocutors here, a publisher, sociologist and political scientist, don’t fit this mould. Instead these conversations are perhaps best seen, as the opening quote put it, as an unfinished string of exchanges with the next participants being the readers themselves. In this sense, applied sociological hermeneutics entails a concept of what Burawoy (2005) calls ‘traditional public sociology’, of presenting sociological ideas to a mass audience in an accessible manner. Indeed, the punchy nature of these texts makes them very engaging, accessible and manageable for quick reading.

The final chapter of Liquid Surveillance then brings the third interlocutor, the reader, into the picture. After being encouraged by Lyon to consider possible manifestations of agency, Bauman points to the potential of individuals to do otherwise, to rebel. The expansion of choice in line with the market – mentioned in all of these texts – inevitably opens the question of morality and the other so that:

You and I as everyone else around, from the most distant past and on to eternity, was, is and will remain homo eligens – a choosing human being, making history as she or he is made by it … And because I am convinced of all that, I believe simultaneously in the possibility and inevitability of morality. (p. 154)

This chapter demonstrates the value of sociological hermeneutics. If we enter into conversation with others to understand not only our own, but others’, conditions of life we will always, for Bauman, confront the question of our moral obligations. By seeing sociology as conversation we are in effect extending this principle and making use of the methods of sociological analysis. The application of this method shows that the moral obligation of sociology is, for Bauman, to present results in a way relevant to the lifeworld of lay readers. In doing so, each of these three texts aims to inspire the reader to pick up the conversation and make use of – through adopting, adjusting or outright rejecting – the ideas contained within them. In this conception the value of conversational texts is the way in which they can instigate further discussions with publics beyond sociology. They do this by two conversationalists probing the topic and pushing each other in new directions, creating texts which are accessible and instigation to think. By doing this through the language of morality and choice these books are opening gambits in a larger conversation to continue beyond their pages.