On Movies,Matrices and Scope: Some Remarks on PTJ’s Keynote 1

You don’t get it; it’s too late for you. Even if you wanted to change, they are not gonna let you … Look at yourself. What can you offer to my daughter?

The unemployed Robbie, from the Glaswegian underclass, sentenced to community service, is confronted by his girlfriend’s merciless father, who urges him to leave Glasgow, whether by force or bribery. Robbie has many enemies who seek revenge, no future, no job prospects and a considerable criminal record. Yet, Robbie finds his life saved by scotch, by single malts, by the plan to steal some priceless century-old whisky. The Angel’s Share (a 2012 movie by Ken Loach) offers a gentle documentary on whisky, its history, production and appreciation. It turns out that Robbie has a natural palate for whisky and soon engages in elaborate and aesthetic whisky-talks: ‘It’s got a maritime nose, with leather and polish, a big sweetness to start with, then tannic, drying … it’s certainly got some European oak in there’. Yet, there are larger messages in the movie, which refer to the widespread, seemingly permanent youth unemployment and the plight of the working class. On the background of the movie and of Robbie’s situation, there are precise government decisions and deep structural factors of the European/international political economy. As Ken Loach explains in an interview he gave when the film was released, ² this state of affairs is ‘not an accident … like a motor car produces carbon monoxide, this system produces mass unemployment … And their remedy for the disaster they’ve caused is just to increase the pace that capitalism works at, so that Greece now has to sell off … sell off its own coastline, sell anything, to appease the system’. The risk is, for the British director, to have a working class without political representation and permanently disenfranchised.

Is this movie a production of political knowledge? Patrick Thaddeus Jackson (PTJ) explains to us very clearly why this is the case. He makes a strong case for studying the cross-boundary encounters with difference (‘international studies’) using multiple kinds of knowledge. Epistemic, practical/technical, aesthetic and normative knowledge should be considered complementary and equally legitimate ways of studying international affairs. Only focusing on one kind of knowledge – the ‘traditional’, epistemic way of producing valid claims through systematic, public, worldly methodological procedures, even in its wider, pluralistic conception ³ – would impoverish the field. Solidly grounded in philosophy of science, PTJ’s arguments are scientifically compelling. He shows that there are no definitive philosophical or logical arguments which support the claim of any of the different ways of knowing to appropriate and dominate the entire field of international studies. What is more, his approach is aesthetically pleasing: the use of whisky analogies is brilliant and witty, and the whole construction of the case is well thought and crafted.

There are two main sets of considerations that I would like to raise and deepen here, one concerning the internal validity of PTJ’s argument, and the other its external scope. First, the two axes of the 2 × 2 matrix disclose some problematic aspects – ideal-types notwithstanding. On the engaged/detached axis, it is not clear why the technical should be engaged with the ongoing stream of activities and trying to modify them in an active manner. There are plenty of experts of certain international issues (military weapons, international law, trade, geopolitics etc.) who have a very detached attitude towards these issues; they do not try to change the world in a participatory manner, but consider themselves disengaged, mostly impartial, ‘technical’ (so to speak) specialists. At the same time, a Critical theorist in International Relations (IR) – who produces epistemic knowledge – can hardly be considered detached from the field s/he examines. S/he will be very active in combining his/her epistemic knowledge with more emancipatory goals. For similar reasons, the same Critical theorist might be uncomfortable in, or suspicious of, viewing theories (including his/her own) as impersonal: all theories are rooted in, and representative of, particular sets of values (second axis). In general, the distinction between epistemic and normative knowledge is questionable, as I do not see why normative studies of the international should not (be able to) follow systematic, public and worldly methodological procedures. Paradoxically enough, the matrix seems to hold on a whole (only) if we adopt a restrictive view of science, and we fundamentally equate epistemic knowledge with positivist approaches. This is somewhat ironic for the author of The Conduct of Inquiry in International Relations – who, perhaps more convincingly than any other, has argued in favour of widening the ways of defining and doing science in IR!

Secondly, the implications of PTJ’s argument could be pushed a bit further, and more ambitious avenues of research could at least be tested/tried. For millenniums novels, written products of any sort, sculptures, paintings, movies (more recently) and so on, have had a powerful political dimension – or, in terms of PTJ, have produced political knowledge of epistemic, aesthetic, technical, normative kinds. There is no question about it. The Iliad, the Sistine Chapel, War and Peace, Full Metal Jacket or The Spy Who Came in from the Cold all have a high political content, in their own way: and the list is potentially very long. In a sense, a recognition of this is just the beginning of more far-reaching debates. In this vein, the conclusion remains a bit conservative and ecumenical. On the one hand, PTJ argues against mixing different forms of knowledge, as this would dissolve them ‘into a flavorless mess of incoherently eclectic grab-bag’. Instead, what we should do is to accentuate the differences between the different kinds of knowledge and interpret each group of political statements in their appropriate context. The four kinds of knowledge are all important for international studies, but should be kept firmly separated. This can be interpreted as a healthy reminder that they indeed have, and demand, different methodological commitments, and that to try to combine them can be a hasty (and unproductive) move to make. Yet, it might be worth exploring whether (or why, at least) mixing is really impossible. After all, if one is aware of the analytical differences of the different forms of knowledge, one might, for instance, pursue normative goals within a systematic, public, worldly methodological analysis of a political phenomenon. ⁴ On the other hand, apart from the indication of not privileging epistemic ways of studying the international, the consequences or the prescriptions for IR scholars are a bit vague. Should the non-epistemic ways of knowing be more extensively included in the syllabi of IR courses, or for teaching purposes more in general? And what are the repercussions for the research aspects of IR, in terms of publications, research projects, and so on? In other words, the repercussions on how IR is (ought to be) taught, researched (or, on a slightly different note, understood) are left a bit unclear. It might turn out that PTJ offers an interesting intellectual effort but with little impact on how we study or comprehend international relations.

Clearly, it would be unfair and unreasonable to pretend more from PTJ’s note. Ultimately, PTJ has vigorously and conveniently opened up the box, and set up the stage for further (hopefully enriching) debates within and across different disciplines – while providing some common language, themes and foundations. The boundaries of this sort of ecumenism need to be further investigated. IR scholars might be induced to justify or qualify their supremacy in the study of the cross-boundary encounters with difference (cf. Iver Neumann’s response in this issue). More interestingly, this debate should involve, and entangle, other fields also. Artists could explain, for instance, what added value their works do have compared to other kinds of knowledge production, if aesthetics becomes increasingly marginal or absent. In addition, cross-discipline fertilisations and debates might occur. Here, I can see some potentially interesting links between PTJ’s note and the growing interest, in IR, in visual politics. In this respect, it is not fully clear what position PTJ advocates; his claim in favour of a sort of legitimised and publicly discernible intention (of any claim on international politics) seems – for the time being, where epistemic claims essentially appear in peer-reviewed social-scientific journals – to speak against the possibilities of more imaginative forms of scientific knowledge. Anyhow, fruitful seeds have been planted for a wider and deeper discussion over, and production of, international studies.

Waiting for when a movie-maker (or an IR scholar?) produces a both aesthetically pleasing and epistemically rigorous movie-analysis of an international phenomenon.