The question addressed by Hipkins’ thesis is how to teach students about ‘the nature of science’. (In a university context we call this ‘the philosophy of science’.) Her understanding of the nature of science is strongly influenced by writers in the field known as ‘Science and Technology Studies’ (STS). These writers focus on the day-to-day practice of science and the social and political contexts in which this practice is carried out. One of the most interesting of these writers was the late Bruno Latour. Latour’s work is extensively cited in Hipkins’ thesis and she credits it as her primary starting point. So if we want to understand the conception of science that underlies the new curriculum, it is a good place to begin.
Latour is best known for what is called ‘actor-network theory’. According to this theory, the practice of science is not a purely intellectual endeavour, but is sustained by ‘networks’. These networks are made up of human beings, the objects with which they are interacting, and the social and political institutions of the surrounding society. Latour is also an advocate of a ‘relational ontology’, in which objects do not pre-exist the relations into which they enter. Things are what they are – they have a particular identity – only because of those relations. Coupling his actor-network theory with a relational ontology, Latour suggests that the practice of science helps to create the objects it investigates. When scientists studying the body of Ramses II claimed that the Pharaoh had died of tuberculosis, Latour suggested this could not be true, since the scientific practices that co-create the tuberculosis bacterium did not exist in ancient Egypt.
Latour was much criticized for that suggestion and he later admitted it may have gone too far. (Latour’s career was marked by outrageous claims, which he would later qualify.) But remarks like this show how easily Latour’s ‘actor-network’ understanding of science can go off the rails. It is in particular danger of going off the rails when it comes to the question of science and politics. The practice of science does involve interactions between people, objects, and institutions. Some of the institutions involved are political. So it is not surprising that politics can play a role in science, even to the point of influencing its theories. (To take a famous example, Darwin’s account of competition in the natural world may be influenced by the competitive spirit of British capitalism.) But this need not mean, as Latour once remarked, that science is merely ‘politics pursued by other means’. Taken at face value, this would suggest that science is not an attempt to understand our world; it is merely one of the arenas in which humans engage in political struggles.
Hipkins does not explicitly endorse this view, but she appears to believe that the teaching of science should have a political dimension. Using one of Latour’s distinctions, Hipkins argues that science teaching should begin with ‘matters of concern’ rather than ‘matters of fact’. (The four subject areas of the proposed new curriculum – earth science, biodiversity, the food-energy-water nexus, and infectious diseases – are matters of concern.) A traditional approach to science teaching would begin with matters of fact and leave matters of concern for discussion outside the science classroom. With regard to climate change, for instance, it would help students understand the science that studies the climate, while setting aside the question of what we should do. But if science teachers start with matters of concern, they will be faced immediately with ethical and political judgements, a consequence Hipkins seems to welcome. She suggests, for instance, that the learning of science should give rise to political action. As she writes, it is not what can be tested by an exam, but ‘what students do in the world’ that is the ultimate test of their learning.
Hipkins backs this up with the idea of ‘ontological politics’, which comes from the work of John Law. Latour’s theory is an instance of what Hipkins calls a ‘participatory epistemology’, which holds that we participate in creating the objects of our knowledge. But if this is true, questions about scientific practice are not merely questions about discovering how the world is. They are questions about ‘what there should be in the world, about politics or ethics’. In Hipkins’ words, science ‘should work towards making some versions of reality more “real” while eroding others’. It follows that the practice of science is inseparable from politics; science apparently is politics pursued by other means.
What are we to make of these ideas? I would certainly include them in a philosophy of science course. But I would also include the criticisms that have been made of them. Some criticisms relate to the idea that the practice of science co-creates the objects it studies. It is easy to see that social science can shape its objects. As the philosopher Ian Hacking has argued, human behaviour is very susceptible to ‘feedback effects’. The very naming and describing of a psychological condition, for instance, can lead people to act it out. But the natural world – the world studied by physics and chemistry – is more resistant to our practices. One can also criticize Latour’s focus on matters of concern. The seventeenth-century founders of modern science chose to focus exclusively on matters of fact, regarding ethical, political, and religious debates as beyond the scope of their inquiries. This enabled individuals of widely differing ethical, political, and religious views to work together. One could argue that focusing on matters of concern risks fracturing the scientific community (or a school science class) along political lines.
Hipkins’ approach to science education owes something to the tradition of ‘critical theory’, developed by the philosophers of the Frankfurt School. One of the founding texts of this movement was Max Horkheimer’s essay contrasting ‘traditional theory’ and ‘critical theory’. Traditional theory is marked by a detachment from politics and a separation of knowing subject and known object, while critical theory recognizes the knower’s involvement in the historical process and seeks to reshape society. But Horkheimer was not advocating that we replace a detached science with a politically committed one. In his view, traditional science would remain important, for it plays an essential role in contributing to our knowledge of both the natural world and society. Latour’s view of science, by way of contrast, can be understood as collapsing science into politics.
The problem with Hipkins’ thesis is criticisms of this kind are barely mentioned. A particular view of science is presented as though it were established and uncontroversial. It is this that really worries me. Teachers could, in principle, do in high schools what I do at the university. They could present students with a variety of views about the nature of science, of which Latour’s would be only one. But school students barely have time to learn the basic principles of science, without grappling with difficult philosophical questions. Nor are most science teachers trained to deal with them. What worries me is that the ‘refreshed’ curriculum will not so much discuss this controversial view of science, as take it for granted, embedding it in the topics it covers and questions it asks. This really would be a tragedy. Inculcating controversial views in ways that do not allow them to be discussed is indoctrination, not education.
Greg Dawes has published extensively on relations between science and religion. He teaches philosophy at the University of Otago. This article was originally published by The Common Room and is published here with kind permission.
Latour is best known for what is called ‘actor-network theory’. According to this theory, the practice of science is not a purely intellectual endeavour, but is sustained by ‘networks’. These networks are made up of human beings, the objects with which they are interacting, and the social and political institutions of the surrounding society. Latour is also an advocate of a ‘relational ontology’, in which objects do not pre-exist the relations into which they enter. Things are what they are – they have a particular identity – only because of those relations. Coupling his actor-network theory with a relational ontology, Latour suggests that the practice of science helps to create the objects it investigates. When scientists studying the body of Ramses II claimed that the Pharaoh had died of tuberculosis, Latour suggested this could not be true, since the scientific practices that co-create the tuberculosis bacterium did not exist in ancient Egypt.
Latour was much criticized for that suggestion and he later admitted it may have gone too far. (Latour’s career was marked by outrageous claims, which he would later qualify.) But remarks like this show how easily Latour’s ‘actor-network’ understanding of science can go off the rails. It is in particular danger of going off the rails when it comes to the question of science and politics. The practice of science does involve interactions between people, objects, and institutions. Some of the institutions involved are political. So it is not surprising that politics can play a role in science, even to the point of influencing its theories. (To take a famous example, Darwin’s account of competition in the natural world may be influenced by the competitive spirit of British capitalism.) But this need not mean, as Latour once remarked, that science is merely ‘politics pursued by other means’. Taken at face value, this would suggest that science is not an attempt to understand our world; it is merely one of the arenas in which humans engage in political struggles.
Hipkins does not explicitly endorse this view, but she appears to believe that the teaching of science should have a political dimension. Using one of Latour’s distinctions, Hipkins argues that science teaching should begin with ‘matters of concern’ rather than ‘matters of fact’. (The four subject areas of the proposed new curriculum – earth science, biodiversity, the food-energy-water nexus, and infectious diseases – are matters of concern.) A traditional approach to science teaching would begin with matters of fact and leave matters of concern for discussion outside the science classroom. With regard to climate change, for instance, it would help students understand the science that studies the climate, while setting aside the question of what we should do. But if science teachers start with matters of concern, they will be faced immediately with ethical and political judgements, a consequence Hipkins seems to welcome. She suggests, for instance, that the learning of science should give rise to political action. As she writes, it is not what can be tested by an exam, but ‘what students do in the world’ that is the ultimate test of their learning.
Hipkins backs this up with the idea of ‘ontological politics’, which comes from the work of John Law. Latour’s theory is an instance of what Hipkins calls a ‘participatory epistemology’, which holds that we participate in creating the objects of our knowledge. But if this is true, questions about scientific practice are not merely questions about discovering how the world is. They are questions about ‘what there should be in the world, about politics or ethics’. In Hipkins’ words, science ‘should work towards making some versions of reality more “real” while eroding others’. It follows that the practice of science is inseparable from politics; science apparently is politics pursued by other means.
What are we to make of these ideas? I would certainly include them in a philosophy of science course. But I would also include the criticisms that have been made of them. Some criticisms relate to the idea that the practice of science co-creates the objects it studies. It is easy to see that social science can shape its objects. As the philosopher Ian Hacking has argued, human behaviour is very susceptible to ‘feedback effects’. The very naming and describing of a psychological condition, for instance, can lead people to act it out. But the natural world – the world studied by physics and chemistry – is more resistant to our practices. One can also criticize Latour’s focus on matters of concern. The seventeenth-century founders of modern science chose to focus exclusively on matters of fact, regarding ethical, political, and religious debates as beyond the scope of their inquiries. This enabled individuals of widely differing ethical, political, and religious views to work together. One could argue that focusing on matters of concern risks fracturing the scientific community (or a school science class) along political lines.
Hipkins’ approach to science education owes something to the tradition of ‘critical theory’, developed by the philosophers of the Frankfurt School. One of the founding texts of this movement was Max Horkheimer’s essay contrasting ‘traditional theory’ and ‘critical theory’. Traditional theory is marked by a detachment from politics and a separation of knowing subject and known object, while critical theory recognizes the knower’s involvement in the historical process and seeks to reshape society. But Horkheimer was not advocating that we replace a detached science with a politically committed one. In his view, traditional science would remain important, for it plays an essential role in contributing to our knowledge of both the natural world and society. Latour’s view of science, by way of contrast, can be understood as collapsing science into politics.
The problem with Hipkins’ thesis is criticisms of this kind are barely mentioned. A particular view of science is presented as though it were established and uncontroversial. It is this that really worries me. Teachers could, in principle, do in high schools what I do at the university. They could present students with a variety of views about the nature of science, of which Latour’s would be only one. But school students barely have time to learn the basic principles of science, without grappling with difficult philosophical questions. Nor are most science teachers trained to deal with them. What worries me is that the ‘refreshed’ curriculum will not so much discuss this controversial view of science, as take it for granted, embedding it in the topics it covers and questions it asks. This really would be a tragedy. Inculcating controversial views in ways that do not allow them to be discussed is indoctrination, not education.
Greg Dawes has published extensively on relations between science and religion. He teaches philosophy at the University of Otago. This article was originally published by The Common Room and is published here with kind permission.
9 comments:
Indoctrination, is exactly what it is meant to be.
The push to view the world one way and one way only is the Marxists dream come true.
" Rosemary (Rose) Hipkins, the mother of our Prime Minister, who in 2019 was made a Member of the New Zealand Order of Merit for services to science education"
While her son was minister of education,and during a period student scientific achievement slipping to an all time low.
It's hard not to be a cynic sometimes.
'Latour’s career was marked by outrageous claims, which he would later qualify.' No wonder the Labour party likes his theories...
Rose Hipkins' aim along with the NZCER is plain and simple, de-colonise education.
It is number one on their list of priorities, as it is for her sons de-colonisation of NZ into Aotearoa.
The plan would appear to be almost complete.
Why am I not surprisedin what Hipkin's has done with the science syllabus? Because, I noted that Jacinda had a portrait of Fraser in her office.Fraser and Beeby introduced Progressive education (PE) into the NZ curriculum in about 1950. While Traditional Liberal education, PE very gradually, supplanted focused, on the child pursuing intellectual endeavours and matters of fact, PE always saw education as a tool to indoctrinate pupils into socialism and to create a utopia.
I would conclude Hipkins is fancying himself as possibly another Fraser who makes revolutionary changes towards this glorious socialist/Marxist state, inspired by his mother's thesis.
There will be cultural wars as we still have simmering on with the reading wars. In this, caused by John Dewey's ideas, ( the originator of PE) completely wrong methods of teaching reading have been exposed by traditional methods of phonics teaching which have outstanding success.
Thank you for explaining the ideologies behind the reset. These same ideologies have caused catastrophic failure in the basic subjects and will do the same to science school standards.
What these postmodern fools can't understand is they are making a series of fundamental errors of logic. Their quasi-religious belief is that because humans are political and have a particular viewpoint/perspective, so all science necessarily fulfils political aims and any perspective is valid (i.e. there is no universal truth). This latter point is used to privilege Maori world view over others in the revised curriculum.
Here's the errors:
- human behaviour cannot just be reduced to politics - we have many often contradictory motivations for behaviour, and are more than capable of placing ourselves outside of politics for a time when we 'do science', so there is no logical reason why science must always be tainted by politics (sure, it can be but in the long run if you use the scientific method you can overcome such biases)
- yes humans have different viewpoints, but it is illogical to assume then that all science that a person does must reflect that viewpoint. These things are just not logically connected. Think of telling the time - even if you're blind you can call out the time and be correct twice a day!
The postmodern perspective is a really annoying one because you can falsify it easily. Some flat earthers believe there is no such thing as gravity, so I'd invite them to jump off a building. Then we can see how 'valid' their perspective is.
Ms Hipkins is a classic academic with a useless degree/publishing history, that contributes nothing to reality and instead will poison another generation of children with her pathetic ideology, without addressing the real issues kids face in learning science, maths etc.
I did reasonably well at school in science and related subjects. Not so hot at comprehension. So if the subjects had not been delivered straight but laced with the obtuse shades of meaning and complcxity above I would have been lost. (Much as I am with Hipkin's notions generally.)
Dawe's last para above sums up aptly. Teachers in my day required just an understanding of the basics and an ability to pass them on, so many were quite effective. If they had to absorb Hipkin's notions above plus loads of te reo and tikanga they would have been hopelessly overloaded.
All very esoteric and theoretical, but it does surely all track back to the fundamentals and without that understanding most of our children will be lost.
Take for example climate change - there are many facets to it that require more than just an understanding of CO2 and without, inter alia, a very good grounding in basic chemistry and biology it's very hard to see any critical thinking will be going on and it will be just another instance of school leavers being (yes, very much indoctrinated, but) ill-equipped for life and, for those seeking higher education, our universities will have to run remedial courses in science like they are now having to do in literacy and maths.
Isn’t it great how we decorate these woke ideologues and allow them free-range to wreak havoc on our young minds and steal their futures. There are few more heinous crimes.
I will be brief !
I got a very good education in science at Kapiti College and NZ School of Pharmacy in the 60's.
In the 70's I pursued a personal interest in particle physics and quantum mechanics. I found these topics fascinating and, of course, they are scientific.
Science deals in observed data. Scientific conclusions are drawn from interpreting the data. So far, so good.
However when "philosophy" is brought into the mix and somehow pushed into "Science" it becomes very muddy and imprecise. They are oil and water, and simply do not mix.
Dragging the opiniated waffle of philosophy into science is simply wrong.
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