Abstract
There is no doubt that Steve Fuller is one of the most prolific authors in contemporary social sciences. Even though his intellectual project fits within the field of social epistemology, it is actually more of a cross-disciplinary reflection about knowledge, developed during the last three decades through his permanent quarrels with analytic epistemology, philosophy of science, science and technology studies (STS), and social theory. Fuller believes that the main disagreement between those fields lies in the kind of answers they offer to at least two questions: in which sense can knowledge be considered a social product and what are the theoretical and pragmatical consequences of assuming that knowledge is indeed a social product? Social epistemology can be seen as a successful endeavor, from his viewpoint, as it fulfills the conceptual requirements to accurately address these two questions. That is, it offers arguments to define a social conception of knowledge, and it introduces a central claim about “how the pursuit of knowledge should be organized” (Fuller 1988, 1). This bears an explicit political debate, as it takes public interest in the design of a scientific agenda seriously, and it redirects the discussion to what sort of political mechanism could reduce the power of experts in collective decisions.
In his latest book, Knowledge. The Philosophical Quest in History (2015), Fuller adds some new components to his project, proposing an interesting counterfactual history of epistemology. As is usual in Fuller’s works, he cultivates a rhetorical style to argue, one more time, that contemporary epistemology should include more history than analytic philosophy traditionally does to define its goals. Certainly this is not a new idea in Fuller’s project. Particularly in his early books (Fuller 1988, 1993), he suggested that the study of knowledge is intrinsically related to social conditions and, as a consequence, it is beneficial to adopt the interdisciplinary field of social epistemology to expand a new agenda for the study of knowledge in an empirical and normative way (Fuller and Collier 2004). I believe that, despite the continuity with his early works, Fuller’s new book has at least three new interesting contributions to this project.
First of all, as the title suggests, the study of knowledge has had several faces throughout the history of philosophy and the social sciences. There are good reasons to think that it is possible to conceive a different sort of history, particularly one that moves beyond the common issues considered by the branch of analytic philosophy called epistemology. In few words, Fuller is demanding to take into account the several fields and approaches that could address the study of knowledge.
Second, he aims to reconstruct this sort of counterfactual history of epistemology. That means that his research does not accept the boundaries defined by the Kantian heritage in modern philosophy, usually held by philosophers when they debate the history of epistemology. In contrast, as Weber did when he was discussing the rise of modern thought in his sociology of religion, Fuller talks about “the divine origins of intellectual life.” There is one chapter, for instance, in which he approaches epistemology as a kind of divine psychology. Perhaps his most interesting contribution in this respect consists in the inclusion of several historical debates to demonstrate how different disciplinary projects that pursue the analysis of knowledge have theoretical counterparts in theological visions in Western societies. In other words, how they can be considered a kind of reenactment of them. This second contribution of the book may reinforce the image of Fuller as a cultured author in his use of strong rhetorical strategies. And, nevertheless, here is perhaps where his critics would point out a shortcoming of his project, in as far as his claims require more research beyond the interpretation of potential conceptual connections.
Third, the book is an appropriate introduction for new scholars to Fuller’s project of social epistemology. The work expounds his central claim, namely, the need for a normative and descriptive social analysis of knowledge, using precisely the history of how the endeavor of inquiring about knowledge has been carried out. Certainly this approach is another way to understand what epistemology must be in social terms.
The key argument of the book is framed in the introduction with a suggestive question: “is there a problem of or with knowledge?” The question makes sense because it points out the diverse issues concerned in the research about knowledge and the proper distribution of them as a target of normative and empirical disciplines. Even more, the question is an invitation to scholars to define their commitments with or against the actual disciplinary demarcation with which the study of knowledge has proceeded at least in the last century. That is exactly the riddle that Fuller introduces when he asks which is the correct preposition to formulate the question of the study of knowledge. On the one hand, if you accept the preposition “of” in the question about “the problem of knowledge,” you admit that there is no objection with the current map of disciplinary fields. That is, epistemology is a branch of philosophy, and empirical sciences interested in the study of knowledge, such as psychology, sociology, or economics, just add new pieces to the puzzle, but never in the way epistemology does it. And even if epistemology is naturalized, as has been happening in the last decades, it does not mean that its attributions disappear as a specific normative discipline. On the other hand, if you accept the preposition “with,” you admit—in Fuller’s words—that “knowledge is a troublesome concept.” In this perspective, knowledge is a social product in the permanent process of construction, implying that it is possible to think of different ways to analyze it and to admit new purposes for it.
The differences between the two attitudes regarding knowledge have had expression during the history of philosophy, and have also affected the ways in which empirical sciences contribute to the analysis. The whole book provides a sort of social theory reading of the struggles that confront each of these attitudes in several episodes in Western history. The appeal of this strategy is that it presents as feasible other alternatives for the analysis of knowledge. In Fuller’s view, looking back on the history of different intellectual fields confirms that there were enough disagreements over knowledge in the past. In consequence, Fuller assumes this justified the inquiry about what exactly happened with those debates left behind by the intellectual mainstream when defining the relevant issues to research about knowledge. In addition, Fuller (2015, 4) assumes that his social epistemology project is crucial because it produces a stimulating movement, to wit, it revives the tradition in philosophy that merges epistemology and metaphysics, “whereby knowledge lays down the tracks of our collective self-discovery (or self-invention).” Following this approach, Fuller claims that we can improve our analysis of knowledge as a social product.
Accordingly, Knowledge. The Philosophical Quest in History is organized by describing several episodes of the study of knowledge in the Western tradition, and it expounds how different disciplinary traditions in the analysis of knowledge have determined the circumstances and conceptual requirements that contemporary disciplines with the same goal follow. This analysis concludes that epistemology could be taken along different disciplinary pathways, for instance: as a cognitive economy, divine psychology, philosophy, psychology, sociology of science and counterfactual historiography. The structure of the book follows these pathways, turning each one into a different chapter.
It is not a coincidence that the first chapter pictures epistemology as a cognitive economy. When Fuller (1988) presented his book Social Epistemology more than two decades ago, one critical conclusion of it was that scholars had to engage with another notion of knowledge, that is, as a crucial social feature concerning its permanent exchange within the academic community (Fuller 1988, 29-30). An attractive point in Fuller’s new work is that he deepens this thesis and presents some critical quarrels to this approach. In a nutshell, cognitive economy discusses what economic process describes knowledge exchanges better—basically implying that there could be not just one but various approaches. Having said that, the proper approach of cognitive economy should be, from Fuller’s point of view, one that enquires about how to use current resources in the production of knowledge efficiently and also how to use knowledge that has been already produced. The differences between two types of cognitive economies are summarized in several dichotomies. In one of them, the demand-sider privileges the idea that “the more necessary a belief is to one’s sense of self, the more it will be actively pursued” (Fuller 2015, 22). In another one, supply-siders organize all the requirements of knowledge, that is, “believe in proportion to the available evidence for the belief, even if that leads to a more diminished sense of self” (Fuller 2015, 22). In the background of this distinction, Fuller says, lie two main traditions in epistemology—empiricism and rationalism; however, they also relate to other distinctions, such as possible directions that humanity can adopt—“towards heaven” or “towards earth”—or attitudes for solving problems in society—medication or legislation.
In general, all these dichotomies are rooted in two different ideas about the kinds of commitments that human beings have with knowledge. The first one was defended by William James a century ago in a celebrated talk, and consists in the defense of the idea of belief by decision. The second one was endorsed years later by W. K. Clifford, who proposes the idea of belief by evidence. In Fullers’s view, it is possible to appreciate the relevance of the distinction considering that “. . . [it provides] a reason in terms of the end you are striving to achieve and in terms of the evidence that licenses your claim” (28). Fuller’s aim behind his thorough overview isn’t solely to discuss the theoretical contributions of James’s idea of “belief by decision”. His intention however is to outline the benefits of James’s commitment against the differentiation of epistemic and moral values. Epistemic values are a sort of moral values, or rather, moral values constrain the realization of epistemic values. Recalling Ockham’s oldest critic to distinguish between the two kinds of values, Fuller claims that “their real difference lies in the time horizon within which a more generic sense of value is expected to be fully realized” (Fuller 2015, 39). After spending a lot of ink explaining the permissive consequences of the distinction between the two kinds of values, the setting of recent analysis seems to acquire sense in his latest work, particularly when he, for instance, suggests accurate philosophical attitudes to tackle possible futures in terms of precautionary or proactionary imperatives (Fuller and Lipinska 2014).
In the subsequent chapters, Fuller uses a similar methodological strategy consisting in two steps. First, he points out a main quarrel that defined the research agendas of several fields interested in the study of knowledge and presents them as modes of epistemology. And then, he illustrates how each one of those fields acknowledges or holds up the distinction between moral and epistemic values by defending a specific research agenda. In this respect, Fuller’s latest work does not really offer new arguments regarding the circumstances that define the mainstream topics in philosophy, psychology, and sociology of science. For instance, the chapter dedicated to philosophy of science reproduces a summary of an old claim in Fuller’s project, namely, a critical reading of Thomas S. Kuhn and the defense of a revival Karl Popper’s normative perspective on science.
Certainly, for some scholars, the repetition of some of his old claims could represent a clear handicap of the book. Nevertheless, I think there is still room for an alternative interpretation. The reiteration of such claims could be read as a particular academic style in which the crucial goals are presented in several ways as pieces of the same whole project. In other words, Fuller’s inquiry moves further in the history of social thought and tries to connect the historical evidence with contemporary discussions that he has already debated on other occasions. If this concession does not convince critics of Fuller, perhaps they should at least consider the discussion of chapters two and seven—“Epistemology as a Divine Psychology” and “Epistemology as a Counterfactual Historiography,” respectively—as they are probably the most interesting pieces of the book. In what follows, I will briefly consider what could be taken as relevant discussions of the two chapters and point out as a conclusion some inconsistencies in the book related to Fuller’s aims.
What makes chapter two interesting is his interpretation of the divine origins of intellectual life in Christian tradition. The counterfactual thesis on which it lies concerns the idea that secularization “turns out to be less a rejection than a purification and amplification of the Biblical roots of intellectual life” (Fuller 2015, 46). The key argument is supported by a free reading of how the Western tradition initiated the interpretation of God’s word and considered it an authority. He presents then a new riddle here when comparing the authority of God with the authority of science. The interpretation of the authority of God in the past represents a good parallel to our contemporary attitude to the authority of science because both figure as ways of inquiring about human expectations about the world. Leaving aside all the history he introduces to explain different roots of Christianity—for instance, the influence of two main traditions in the interpretation of the divine word, the Petrine and the Pauline, and their hierarchy in the mendicants of Dominicans and Franciscans—a critical point of his reconstruction is the role Leibniz played in the context of the “Scientific Revolution.” From Fuller’s point of view, Leibniz offered in his theodicy an important alternative for naturalism to explain and support the authority of science. The eccentric connection is justified in the fact that the theodicy provides an explanation in which evil is not understood as a radical imperfection, but as a circumstance in the world that God assumes as a possibility. Fuller offers a translation of this attitude into an interpretation of science assuming that “. . . theodicy simply took for granted our divine entitlement and the findings of science, and then sought to infer an action plan. It was less about justifying God’s existence than justifying our own existence as creatures in imagio dei” (Fuller 2015, 49).
In Fuller’s view, human beings could be considered as Gods because of their powers of creation. (Fuller 2015, 50) Therefore, they must be engaged in shaping new attitudes for the future. That is, they should reach agreements about possible future scenarios concerning knowledge production. However human beings who participate in this process are confronted with what Fuller views as the “conservative methodological attitude” of Naturalism. In his interpretation, naturalism prioritizes a “first-order philosophy” in which the idea of different visions of reality is not possible. In opposition, Fuller defines himself as a “reflexive naturalist,” meaning that he “takes the historical track record of science as offering second-order guidance on how we should extrapolate from past to future experience” (Fuller 2015, 60). Therefore, reflexive naturalism leads to what he called the Creationist Left, a sort of epistemological and political engagement with debates about the future of science.
Precisely in that respect, chapter seven, “Epistemology as a Counterfactual Historiography,” turns out to be critical because it expounds a wide disagreement with determinism and freedom as they constrain the will of human beings. His assumption “. . . is that it does not make much sense to say that people are free to do what they want, unless the options at their disposal are likely to result in meaningfully different outcomes that can be more or less anticipated” (Fuller 2015, 210).
After having briefly reviewed some of the most interesting discussions in these chapters, there is still something to say, as a conclusion, about Fuller’s new book. I wrote before that it offers an appropriate gate to his intellectual pursuit—from which he develops a particular project of social epistemology—namely, the investigation of the proper way to carry out analysis of knowledge, taking into account the social circumstances of its production. The book contributes to this purpose by means of the suggestion of more elements to define the meaning of social circumstances. In particular, discussions in different historical moments in the Western tradition show how humans define values to confront or attribute relevance to knowledge. This reconstruction possibly helped to fulfill the final or long-term goal of Fuller’s work: to improve our discussion about possible futures. Certainly, reaching this goal implies conceiving an alternative approach for all analytic instruments and traditions—such as naturalism, as Fuller stresses—that hold up the engagement with the discussion about other futures of scientific knowledge.
Despite the relevance of Fuller’s project, it is obvious that his work confronts a dilemma: if knowledge is a social product, the answers that he offers can also be put into question by the community. I guess this is precisely what happened with the reception of Fuller’s work. In any case, his approach to how to define the normative and empirical analyses of knowledge has a positive consequence, to wit, it produces uncomfortable questions that might affect possible radical changes in the intellectual agenda. Two and a half decades ago, Ronald Giere (1991) identified—also in a review of one of Fuller’s books—the beginning of a prolific author. Nevertheless, Giere has posed some critical questions to his work since then. For instance, he talks about discrepancies as we must not forget that the project of studying knowledge is in fact a community commitment, in which disagreements sometimes offer more to the community discussion than reaching particular answers as a commandment. That is why I think Steve Fuller fits well with the idea of an uncomfortable author within mainstream philosophy of science.