Abstract
Researchers or all persuasions grapple with the key question, ‘how do we know?’, a simplistic synopsis of the foci of epistemological thinking over millennia. The fact that this even remains an issue points to its metaphysical character. Practically, its endurance means that whenever scholars or researchers report their conclusions, they will need, in one form or another, to address this issue if the substance of their claims are to be taken seriously. This, of course, is why so much attention in social research is focused on issues of design and method, and for many, methodological robustness functions as a proxy for good quality research, with the capacity to convince. At one extreme, such thinking leads to the development of hierarchal knowledge typologies, in which research conducted according to the assumptions of certain designs and methods is assumed more substantive, certain or definitive than that which is generated by alternative approaches premised on differing conventions. This raises an array of issues; one is what does the ranking of knowledge according to design and method tell us about the quality of wholly different studies within particular categorizations? Are we to assume they are, by default, of equal merit?; another is how we might deal with the ‘knowledge claims’ made by (sometimes authoritative) authors when they do not meet these conventions of rigour, or when findings do not resonate with our own preferred conventions? Though based on different approaches, neither of the books reviewed in this issue would typically be ranked towards the top of the hierarchy of knowledge. How, then, ought we to assess the substance and merit of their claims?
Nigel Parton’s latest book, The politics of child protection, analyses the ways in which shifts in governing ideology have impacted on the policy and practice of work with children and families. Despite the status of the author, an authoritative voice within the field, the book is not based on empirical research but a reading of discursive sources from a particular standpoint, an approach which is described as ‘something of a case study’ (p. 3). Next, my own recent book, Governing risk, is reviewed – not uncritically – by Tony Stanley. This monograph is based on empirical research, but Tony appears to find this particular interpretation of the data unconvincing, in light of swathes of research published elsewhere which points in alternative directions. What credence, though, can and should we attach to claims that either lack empirical substance or do not correspond with our political persuasions? I don’t know the answer to these questions, but I do enjoy thinking about them!
This is my final issue as one of QSW’s two review editors. I’d like to extend a warm welcome to Lisa Morriss, who will take on this role for the foreseeable future. Welcome aboard, and good luck!