Lethem, J. (2012) Fear of Music, London: Continuum

(This review is in Metapsychology Online here.)

‘Fear of Music’ is the name of the third album by the US post punk, funk band Talking Heads and it is also the name of the American novelist Jonathan Lethem’s book about it, which sits in the Continuum series on pop music: 33 1/3.

What should we expect from writing about pop music? Is it as misguided a venture as is implied by analogy (attributed to Frank Zappa) ‘dancing about architecture’ cited here [Lethem 2012: 33]. How can writing, or analysis, relate to the simple joy and potency of cheap music?

One approach is to tell us something about how the music was put together, the instruments used, and perhaps the cultural influences or sources buried beneath the lyrics but nevertheless imprinted in the song writer’s intentions. Such an approach might aim at a kind of explanation of the music. It would also require a particular kind of authority over the facts from the author: an authority which the reader, ignorant of those hidden facts, may be in no position to challenge and has to take on trust. That is not what Lethem aims at here.

Instead, his account is a ‘reading’ of the music, concentrating mainly on the words but not ignoring the score and instrumentation, which stands or falls by its appeal to the reader. The truth or correctness aimed at lies in the account of the surface of the music (deep though that can be as the expression of human emotion can be both visible in the surface of human behaviour whilst still having depth) not the hidden background of pop music technology, or pop political shenanigans. Lethem offers a way of attending to the songs which makes a more or less coherent account of everything, including some of the difficulty of the album achieving coherence and hence the difficulty for Lethem’s account itself succeeding in joining all the dots.

Such an approach, though, may not appeal to all and a couple of representative disappointed reader reviews of the book on the Amazon website seem to me to be almost exactly right about it except that they want, I want to say, the wrong thing.

‘This book is not a story of the making of the rather superb Fear of Music album. Rather it is the author’s love affair with that album and relating his boy in the bedroom experiences... throughout. Each song is de-constructed chapter at a time...There is no research into the making of the record really. No illuminating insights into the process. Just a 140 page essay on the albums effect and impact on the listener.’

‘One of the worst in the series. No insight into the making of the music. Simply the author’s masturbatory ramblings and self-satisfying hyperbole. It would have been nice to include a few quotes from the band on the actual making of the record. Skip this one altogether. A total waste of a read.’

There is indeed no research into the making of the record, if but only if that necessitates historical inquiry and quotations from the band members on the actual making of the record. But there is painstaking research into the record if that involves, as the same reader admits, a deconstruction of it song by song. All depends on what research should be taken to involve. But what it should be so taken is not, it seems to me, easily settled by the nature of research, punkt. It is a matter of context. Nor does not mean that research understood as itself contextually invariant merely has to take account of the context of what is researched. What counts as the proper aims and methods of research of a discipline is a matter for local debate. Lethem’s short account of Fear of Music makes a good case for his model to be the right one for works like this for one over-arching reason. Reading the text makes one want to re-engage with the music.

Writing about music need not be like dancing about architecture if the latter is supposed to illustrate a kind of incoherent interaction of forms. (It would be rash, however, to stipulate that dancing about architecture must fail to resonate or even to fail to resonate to precisely architectural forms. Such stipulation would fail to take account of the insight of the resolute reading of the later Wittgenstein. But I assume that the aim of the metaphor, at least, is clear.) Lethem’s book is not a substitute for the music but neither is it entirely parasitic on it (as a dry account of the instruments used on each track and their electrical or financial properties would be). Rather, it presents an account that aims at a synoptic presentation whilst inevitably failing to address some aspects of the character of the whole.

To give the plot away, the key idea is that Fear of Music presents its many titular nouns from the songs – including some starkly single examples such as ‘mind’, ‘cities’, ‘air’, ‘heaven', ‘drugs’ – as objects of scrutiny. ‘Like a high school social studies teacher chalking a heading on a blackboard, the song titles function as “topics for discussion”. [ibid: 8] In each case, however, the songs highlight a kind of disaffected state of underlying anxiety, or fear, that the singer or listener does, or should, feel. Though named ‘fear of music’, the fear is all pervasive. ‘Like Mister Spock freshly landed on a strange new planet, we can use Fear of Music like a tricorder, to dissect the novelty and danger residing in things we take for granted , but shouldn’t’ [ibid: 16]

One song, however, resists this interpretation: the first song, ‘I Zimbra’. But this, Lethem suggests, does not undermine the general thrust of the album. Rather, through its nonsensical lyrics drawn from a Dadaist poet (Hugo Ball), it suggests modesty, caution, or even fear itself as the ‘method’ elsewhere: the rational discussion of the topics to come. This song finds even the assumptions of access to meaning and authorial presence made elsewhere in the album doubtful.

Does Lethem succeed in offering a coherent reading of the entire album? Perhaps. I need to listen again. He even offers a breathless phrase per song which offers a flavour of how the thesis is unpacked song by song.

But wait, wait, what does “Drugs” mean? We’re so near the end, let me try shuffling this tarot deck once more: “I Zimbra” (no-mind, non-sense), “Mind” (not a working number), “Paper” (old methods doubtful), “Cities” (flea, dance), “Life During Wartime” (quit dancing, find barricades), “Memories Can’t Wait” (party and war are in your mind), “Air” (no release on earth), “Heaven” (release from mind only in death), “Animals” (no dignity in bodily release), “Electric Guitar” (doubt rock) - so, does “Drugs” counsel a mixed state of happy impurity and ecstatic surrender on temporary organic terms? Conclusion: Fuck up the mind. [ibid: 134]

Without the slow build up to this overview, I risk, in quoting it, alienating potential readers. And I should further report that not everything in the book is successful. The reference to the author’s younger self (which permits a distinction between what the author now knows and what he first thought and enthusiastically experienced) palls and sometimes the writing itself is just too mannered. But, at the very least, the readings take one back to the music, to the interplay of lyrics and guitar work. I have not enjoyed Fear of Music as much, either when listening to it, or merely through its contemplation as an idea, so much in years.

Reductionism

‘Reductionism’ is the name of a family of related approaches within epistemology and ontology. That is, it can be a view of how best to seek knowledge of the world by subsuming either higher level theories or explanations under lower level, and more general, theories or explanations. An often cited example is the reduction of Kepler’s Laws to Newtonian mechanics. But it can also be a view about the nature of the world itself, captured in the slogan ‘the physical is all there is’.

In the early part of the twentieth century, epistemological and ontological forms of reductionism were combined in the thesis that the sciences could, ultimately, be unified. The Logical Positivists gave a specific logical interpretation of the conditions for unification. They construed reductionism as a logical or semantic thesis about the relation between theories: in particular the relation between terms and laws in different scientific theories. Broadly, one theory could be reduced to another if its terms could be defined using the terms of the reducing theory and its laws be explained by the laws of the reducing theory. ‘Bridge laws’ would connect higher level types to lower level types. This sort of relation was supposed to have been exemplified by theories of thermodynamics to statistical mechanics [Nagel 1961: 338]. It was also supposed to be the general tendency of scientific progress that ‘higher level’ theories would be reduced to lower level or more basic theories.

Given the construal of reductionism as a claim about the eventual relation between theoretical terms one can see how it also dovetailed with an epistemological approach popular at the time and which still has an echo in contemporary mental healthcare. This involved the separation of theory and observation encapsulated in the ‘two language’ model [Feigl 1970]. If observation is to play a foundational role for assessing theories it has to be neutral between competing theories. The Logical Positivists attempted to ensure this by separating observation and theoretical languages. An epistemological thesis that one can know the truth of an observation statement independently of knowing the truth of any theory was underpinned by a semantic thesis about the meaning of observational and theoretical terms. This required that observation-language concepts could be defined by basic connections to experience presupposing no theory. Theoretical concepts were then supposed to be defined in observational terms.

This is a version of epistemological reductionism. Theoretical language can, and should, be reduced to a more basic and theory-free observational language. The atheoretical aspirations of DSM III and IV are recent instances of this approach. But one of the morals of recent philosophy of science is, however, that theory and observation are of necessity inter-woven [see eg Churchland 1979; Hanson 1958].

Whilst epistemological reductionism has fallen from favour, ontological reductionism and the general aim of the unity of science has not. Whilst not universal, the assumption is still widespread that psychological sciences will eventually be reduced to biology (which might be construed as physiology or evolutionary biology), biology to chemistry and chemistry to physics.

Although the emphasis on a semantic or logical characterisation was replaced instead by a more ontological approach, Paul Oppenheim and Hilary Putnam expressed this view in their classic 1958 paper ‘Unity of science as working hypothesis’.

It has been contended that one manifestly cannot explain human behaviour by reference to the laws of atomic physics. It would indeed be fantastic to suppose  that the simplest regularity in the field of psychology could be explained directly – ie. “skipping” intervening branches of science – by employing subatomic theories. But one may believe in the attainability of unitary science without thereby committing oneself to this absurdity. It is not absurd to suppose that psychological laws may eventually be explained in terms of the behaviour of individual neurons in the brain; that the behaviour of individual cells – including neurons – may eventually be explained in terms of their biochemical constitution; and that the behaviour of molecules – including the macromolecules that make up living cells – may eventually be explained in terms of atomic physics. If this is achieved, then psychological laws will have, in principle, been reduced to laws of atomic physics… [Oppenhiem and Putnam 1991: 407]

Oppenheim and Putnam go on to make two important and distinct kinds claims. Firstly, they argue that the unity of science is served by ‘microreductions’. These are reductions in which:

The objects in the universe of discourse of [the reduced science or theory] are wholes which possess a decomposition into proper parts all of which belong to the universe of discourse of [the reducing science or theory]. [Oppenhiem and Putnam 1991: 407]

In fact they argue more strongly that microreduction is the only method seriously available for the unity of science [ibid: 408]. They then go on to explore the consequences of this view by examining the preconditions for successfully attaining unity via microreduction (see below).

Secondly, they characterise the unity of science as a ‘working hypothesis’. In other word it is not a piece of a priori metaphysics (or corresponding conceptual analysis). It is, instead a high level scientific hypothesis to be tested by its success over time.

That is, we believe that it is in accord with the standards of reasonable scientific judgement to tentatively accept this hypothesis and to work on the assumption that further progress can be made in this direction, without claiming that its truth has been established, or denying that success may finally elude us. [ibid: 408]

Since microreduction is construed as the only serious possibility for the unity of science, and since its success rests on a number of other things being the case, the goal of unification has a number of presuppositions which are then outlined. The list begins:

1.       There must be several levels.

2.       The number of levels must be finite.

3.       There must be a unique lowest level…

4.       Any thing of any level except the lowest must possess a decomposition into things belonging to the next lowest level… [ibid: 409]

This list suggests the following view of nature. The world is made up of basic building blocks or atoms which display regularities that can be described in the law statements of the most basic science. The basic atoms also combine to constitute larger structures which display characteristic regularities of their own. These can in turn be codified in the law statements of higher level sciences. But the higher level regularities do not emerge out of nothing. They can be explained as the consequences of the more basic patterns of behaviour of atoms. So the structure of the world and the structure of science can be seen as two isomorphic hierarchies of levels.

With this picture in place, the most basic level can assume a metaphysical role as a touchstone for what is really real. A good example of this relevant to psychology is an explicit argument for reductionism about mental content offered by Jerry Fodor in his book Psychosemantics [Fodor 1987]. Fodor’s project is to explain the intentionality of mental states. (In the context of the philosophy of thought and language, the term ‘intentionality’ generally means the aboutness or world-involving nature of both mental states and linguistic utterances. This scholastic term was reintroduced to philosophy by Franz Brentano (1838-1917) a philosopher and psychologist.) Fodor puts forward an argument for reductionism about intentionality thus:

I suppose that sooner or later the physicists will complete the catalogue they’ve been compiling of the ultimate and irreducible properties of things. When they do, the likes of spin, charm and charge will perhaps appear upon their list. But aboutness surely won’t; intentionality simply doesn’t go that deep. It’s hard to see, in face of this consideration, how one can be a Realist about intentionality without also being, to some extent or other, a Reductionist. If the semantic and intentional are real properties of things, it must be in virtue of their identity with... properties that are neither intentional nor semantic. If aboutness is real, it must be really something else. [Fodor 1987: 97]

This passage summarises the motivation for reductionism about the mind, and especially mental content, but it applies more generally. If the full extent of what exists in nature is describable by physics (by a future physics, that is), then it should be possible in principle to show how any genuine feature or property will either be found in a list of basic physical properties or can be reduced to some underlying physical description. If not, then it is not a genuine feature of the world. Since meaning or intentionality is a genuine aspect or feature of the natural world it must be reducible to more basic terms which make no essential use of – do not themselves presuppose - the notion of meaning.

It is, however, one thing to argue that reduction of mental to more basic properties must be possible and another to show how that might be done. The most influential version of reductionism about the mental is called ‘representationalism’ of which Jerry Fodor’s Psychosemantics was also a clear statement. He combined the idea that the systematicity and compositionality of thought is explained by structured mental representations or symbols in a language of thought with a variant of a causal theory of how the symbols come to have worldly content or reference. Mental representations mean what causes them.

An alternative form of representationalism accounts for intentionality not merely through a complex causal mechanism, or what typically causes a representation, but through the idea of biological or proper function and thus what the representation is biologically designed to represent. This approach – teleosemantics – came to prominence through the work of Ruth Garrett Millikan who distinguishes between biologically mechanisms which produce representations, such as perceptual systems, and mechanisms which ‘consume’ them [Millikan 1984]. These might include mechanisms designed for predator evasion. It is the contribution that the representation makes to the consumer mechanism that determines its content: such as representing the presence of a predator.

This is an ongoing research programme [Macdonald and Papineau 2006]. But it has recently received a substantial and sustained criticism which threatens to undermine the key idea of mental representations deployed to explain the everyday intentionality of mental states.

In a summary of attempts to naturalise content through the idea of biological representations, Peter Godfrey-Smith expresses pessimism. ‘I doubt that teleosemantics, or any theory like it, will deliver the direct, reductive, puff-of-papal smoke solution that the 1980s literature envisaged’ [Godfrey-Smith 2006: 66]. His reason is that 30 years of philosophical theorising has delivered something in the same area but more basic.

One of the intuitions that has driven teleosemantics is the idea that rich biological concepts of function pick out a special kind of involvement relation between parts of organisms and their environments. Edging even closer to the semantic domain, there is a kind of specificity or directness that an evolved structure can have towards an environmental feature that figures in its selective history… But this relation is found in many cases that do not involve representation or anything close to it. [ibid: 60]

In other words, reductionist accounts of meaning simply have not been forthcoming. A more general critique is provided by William Ramsey in his book Representation Reconsidered [Ramsey 2007]. Ramsey points out that a lesson from the history of the philosophy of mind is that, as Daniel Dennett noted, it is nearly always possible to describe physical processes in representational terms but it is never necessary. Just as one can avoid biological descriptions by describing biological systems in lower level physical and chemical terms, so representational terms need not be used. What then justifies the use of representational terms for complex systems? What is the explanatory benefit? Ramsey argues that all the dominant approaches to explaining intentionality fail this test.

Take the case of a Venus fly trap which, according to Fred Dretske’s teleosemantic analysis, is supposed to have an internal trigger which responds to movement and thus signals the presence of insects [Dretske 1988]. Drekske says ‘there is every reason to think that this internal trigger was selected for its job because of what it indicated, because it told the plant what it needed to know.’ [ibid: 20]. But Ramsey asks why we need think of this in representational terms in addition to thinking that because of the lawlike connection between movement and plant closure plants with the trigger would be selected. ‘[T]here is no reason to think that structures recruited because their states have the property of being nomically dependent on some condition are also recruited because they carry information about that condition’ [Ramsey 2007: 135]. This mirrors the case of the firing pin in a gun which bridges the gap between pulling the trigger and firing the round. That lawlike connection is why the pin is part of the design. But there is no reason to think that the firing pin is a representation of anything.

Such criticism threatens the prospects for a reductionist account of intentionality or mental content. But that is not yet to diagnose a mistake in Fodor’s argument that, in principle at least, a reductionist account must be possible. Anti-reductionists may seem to have to deny the reality of mental states in general and intentionality in particular [cf Churchland]. But there is another option which is to reject the implicit premiss that physics alone sets limits to what is real. John McDowell, for example, argues that that whilst scientific method has been a genuine achievement of the modern era, the assumption that scientific descriptions of the world also exhausts its nature is ‘not the educated common sense it represents itself as being; it is shallow metaphysics’ [McDowell 1995b: 164; 1998b: 182 cf McDowell 1994: 82]

The cost, however, of such an anti-reductionist view of the mental is that it can seem to make the relation between mind-presupposing person-level descriptions and more basic sub-personal mechanisms mysterious in principle. Wilfrid Sellars (1912-89), for example, argued that the central task for philosophy was to reconcile the ‘manifest image of man in the world’ with the scientific image, derived from ‘postulational theory construction’ [Sellars 1963: 19]. Sellars is not alone in taking there to be a key distinction between person-level descriptions and underlying natural scientific accounts. Building on Sellars’ work, McDowell, for example, contrasts the logical space of reasons with the realm of law or of natural science [McDowell 1994]. Donald Davidson argues for the ‘constitutive ideal of rationality’ which has ‘no echo in physical theory’ [Davidson 1980: 223, 231]. All three authors share an assumption about the central importance of the normativity of person-level descriptions and thus face, in different ways, the challenge of explaining how two such distinct levels can both be a part of the same natural world.

One frequent claim is that, whilst distinct, the mental supervenes on the physical. The idea of supervenience was originally articulated by GE Moore (1873-1958) to relate moral properties to physical properties given the assumption that moral properties cannot be analysed into physical descriptions.

[I]f a given thing possesses any kind of intrinsic value in a certain degree, then not only must that same thing possess it, under all circumstances, in the same degree, but also anything exactly like it, must, under all circumstances, possess it in exactly the same degree. … it is not possible that of two exactly similar things one should possess it and the other not, or that one should possess it in one degree, and the other in a different one. [Moore 1922: 261]

More recently, it has been used most often in the philosophy of mind. It claims that determining the physical properties of a system determines its mental properties but not vice versa. It was most famously asserted by Davidson to further characterise his token identity theory which claims that every particular mental event is a physical event even though types of mental event cannot be identified with types of physical event [Davidson 1980: 207-27]. But as John Haugeland pointed out, it need not be associated with a position even as apparently weakly reductionist as a token identity theory [Haugeland 1982]. It could be used to characterise a yet weaker relation between mental and physical descriptions as a whole even where there is no claim that the same individuals (entities or events) can be identified in both. Haugeland calls this ‘weak supervenience’ (although that ambiguous label is also used for modally constrained versions of supervenience). There remains, however, some doubt as to whether supervenience is a stable middle point between full blown reductionism and some form of dualism [Evnine 1991, Thornton 2009].

Accommodating mental content into a scientific account of nature is not the only opportunity for a reductionist account of clinical psychology. A distinct second area concerns the nature of pathology itself. Can facts about illness be explained in underlying and purely biological terms or are they essentially evaluative and thus resistant to such a reduction as, for example, Bill Fulford argues [Fulford 1990]? The most promising weapon in the reductionists’ armoury is – like teleosemantics – the idea of the biological function of a trait or mechanism. Thus Jerome Wakefield argues that a disorder is a biological dysfunction which can, itself, be explained in value-free biological terms using evolutionary theory [Wakefield 1999]. He himself retains a role for the value harm in picking out the composite notion of illness or disease as a harmful dysfunction. It remains a matter of debate, however, whether this reductionist analysis is correct [eg Bolton 2008, Thornton 2000].

Bibliography

Bolton, D (2008) What is Mental Disorder? Oxford: Oxford University Press

Churchland, P. M. (1979) Scientific realism and the plasticity of mind, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Davidson, D. (1980) Essays on Actions and Events, Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Dretske, F. (1988) Explaining Behavior, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press

Evnine, S. (1991) Donald Davidson, Oxford: Polity

Feigl, H. (1970) ‘The orthodox view of theories’ in Radner, M., Analysis of Theories and Methods of Physics and Psychology, Minnesota Studies in Philosophy of Science Vol. 4 Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.

Fodor, J. A. (1987) Psychosemantics: the problem of meaning in the philosophy of mind, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

Fulford, K.W.M. (1990) Moral theory and medical practice Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

Godfrey-Smith P. (2006) ‘Mental Representation and Naturalism’ in Macdonald, G. and Papineau, P. (eds) Teleosemantics, Oxford: Oxford University Press pp. 42-68

Hanson, N. R. (1958) Patterns of Discovery, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Haugeland, J. (1982) ‘Weak Supervenience’ American Philosophical Quarterly 19.

Macdonald, G. and Papineau, P. (eds) (2006) Teleosemantics, Oxford: Oxford University Press

McDowell, J. (1994) Mind and World, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press.

McDowell, J. (1998) Mind value and reality, Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press

Millikan, R.G. (1984) Language, thought and other biological categories. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.

Moore, G.E. (1903) Principia ethica. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Oppenheim, P and Putnam, H. (1991) ‘Unity of science as a working hypothesis’ in Boyd, R. Gasper, P. and Trout, J. D. (eds.) Philosophy of Science London : MIT Press.

Ramsey, W.M. (2007) Representation Reconsidered, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press

Sellars, W. (1963) ‘Philosophy and the Scientific Image of Man’ in Science, Perception and Reality, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul

Thornton, T. (2000) ‘Mental Illness and Reductionism: Can Functions be Naturalized?’ Philosophy, Psychiatry and Psychology 7: 67-76

Thornton, T. (2009) ‘On the interface problem in philosophy and psychiatry’ in Bortolotti, L. and Broome, M. Psychiatry as Cognitive Neuroscience, Oxford: Oxford University Press: 121-136

Wakefield, J.C. (1999) Mental disorder as a black box essentialist concept. Journal of Abnormal Psychology 108, no 3: 465-472.

Philosophical issues in crime and mental illness: AAPP conference May 18 & 19, 2013

ASSOCIATION FOR THE ADVANCEMENT OF PHILOSOPHY & PSYCHIATRY
CALL FOR ABSTRACTS
25th Anniversary Annual Meeting
May 18 & 19, 2013
San Francisco, California
Theme: PHILOSOPHICAL ISSUES IN CRIME & MENTAL ILLNESS

Conference Co-Chairs:
Christian Perring, Ph.D. Dowling College
Peter Zachar, Ph.D. Auburn University Montgomery
John Z Sadler, M.D. UT Southwestern Medical Center

For better or for worse, crime, criminality, and mental illness have been connected in Western societies in spite of the Enlightenment effort to parse out different kinds of social deviance For the 25th Anniversary meeting of AAPP, our theme focuses on the complex relationship between the concepts of “criminal vice” and “mental disorder.” The relationships between criminality and mental disorder can be organized around 10 themes: (1) mental disorder as a criminal excuse or compromise in criminal/moral responsibility; (2) the “mad versus bad” problem – whether some mental disorders such as psychopathy are moral failings that are being labeled diseases as well as the converse – whether criminality is a disease; (3) the proper role of mental health care in criminal justice settings – adult and juvenile; (4) the differing conceptual and epistemological standpoints of law and psychiatry (for example the nature of evidence in jury trials
versus experiments); (5) conceptual and ethical issues in forensic psychiatry and psychology – questions ranging from whose interests does the practitioner serve, to capacity to stand trial or be executed, to duties to warn; (6) the ethics of psychiatric research with criminal offenders; (7) issues of consent and voluntarism in psychiatric treatment of criminal offenders (8) particular issues concerning the social control of deviance, such as sexual predator laws, the role of punishment, rehabilitation, containment, and deterrence in penal approaches, and as well as care of the mentally ill in penal systems; (9) issues around the doctor-patient relationship in working with mentally ill offenders in inpatient and outpatient settings; and (10) miscellaneous issues including conceptual issues in criminal profiling, the concepts of victim and victimization, the use of the DSM in forensic settings, and the issue of forgiveness of offenders in mental health
settings. Abstracts may address one or more of these aspects.

Full Presentations will be strictly limited to 20 minutes, followed by 10 minutes for discussion.

A Poster Session is offered for a limited number of abstracts in additional to Full Presentations. Abstracts will be blindly reviewed, so the author's identifying information should be attached in a coversheet separate from the abstract text, giving names, degrees, academic affiliations, and e-mail addresses of authors and co-authors
Abstracts should be 500-600 words and should be sent via email by October 15, 2012 to both Christian Perring (cperring@yahoo.com) and Peter Zachar (pzachar@aum.edu). Notices of acceptance or rejection will be distributed in December.

http://alien.dowling.edu/~cperring/aapp/AAPP2013CFA.pdf

Fashionable Diseases

Fashionable Diseases: Medicine, Literature and Culture, ca. 1660-1832, a new Leverhulme-funded project at Northumbria and Newcastle Universities, is pleased to announce the first of a series of workshops. 

On 12^th October, Dr Catherine Belling will be speaking on ‘Hypochondria and the Refashioning of Medical Uncertainty.’  Belling is Assistant Professor of Medical Humanities and Bioethics at Northwestern University's Feinberg School of Medicine in Chicago and the author of A Condition of Doubt: On the Meanings of Hypochondria (Oxford University Press, 2012).  With particular reference to the 18thc rise of pathological anatomy and the late 20^th c rise of clinical ethics and patient autonomy, Belling will consider how the meaning of the term "hypochondria" has shifted in relation to what medicine has considered certain.  The paper will be followed by an open discussion on the changing shape of hypochondria through history.

The event will take place on 12 October in 121 Lipman at Northumbria University from 3-5pm.  All are warmly invited to attend.

The Centre for the Social History of Health and Healthcare (CSHHH) Autumn 2012 Seminar Series

The Centre for the Social History of Health and Healthcare (CSHHH)

The CSHHH is a collaborative research group involving historians and students from Glasgow Caledonian University and the University of Strathclyde. Our activities focus on the way in which medicine, medical science, and healthcare systems have developed over time and have come to shape our contemporary experience.

Autumn 2012 Seminar Series

Wednesday 26 September 2012

Dr Sabine Clarke

University of York

“New Uses for Sugar: The Search for Novel Drugs  and the development of the British Caribbean after 1940.”

Wednesday 10 October 2012

Dr Neil Pemberton

University of Manchester

"The Curious Episode of the Dogs that  Didn't Bark: Bloodhounds, Slum Stench and Jack the Ripper in the Late-Victorian Imagination."

Wednesday 14 November 2012

Dr Gayle Davis

University of Edinburgh

 “Test tubes and turpitude: The medical, social and political response to infertility in 1950s Scotland?”

Wednesday 21 November 2012

Dr Jamie Stark

University of Leeds

"Naming Death: The Many Anthraxes of Bradford, Britain and the World, c.1850-1920".

ALL WELCOME

Location: W709 (Hamish Wood Building)

Contact: r.blincow@gcu.ac.uk

4.30pm (refreshments)  for a 5.00pm start.

Website:  www.gcu.ac.uk/cshhh

Joy Duxbury's inaugural professorial lecture

Inaugural Professorial Lecture:

‘In defence of the indefensible: the use of Physical Restraint in Health Care Settings’
by Joy Duxbury, Professor of Mental Health Nursing

Monday 15th October 2012, 18:30 Darwin Lecture Theatre, University of Central Lancashire, Preston, PR1 2HE

Post-lecture refreshments will be served in Darwin foyer at 19:30

Car parking available from 17:00 on Darwin and Foster car parks

Please contact Sue Conduit at SAConduit@ uclan.ac.uk

On reading Larrivee's 'Transforming teaching practice'

At the suggestion of one of my university colleagues – William Fisher – with both expertise in the nature of university teaching and a broader interest in the political context of universities, I’ve had a look, this evening, at a paper outlining some suggestions about the motivational and intellectual underpinnings of good teaching:

Larrivee, B. (2000) ‘Transforming teaching practice: becoming the critically reflective teacher’ Reflective Practice 1: 293-315

I must say that it seemed to make some sensible comments. The abstract runs:

This article proposes a framework for conceptualizing developing as a critically reflective teacher. The author posits that critical reflection is the distinguishing attribute of reflective practitioners. The term critical reflection as developed here merges critical inquiry, the conscious consideration of the ethical implications and consequences of teaching practice, with self reflection, deep examination of personal beliefs, and assumptions about human potential and learning. Essential practices for developing critical reflection are discussed. This article define processes fundamental to reflective practice. Teacher beliefs are self generating, and often unchallenged. Unless teachers develop the practice of critical reflection, they stay trapped in unexamined judgments, interpretations, assumptions, and expectations. Approaching teaching as a reflective practitioner involves infusing personal beliefs and values into a professional identity, resulting in developing a deliberate code of conduct. [ibid: 293]

So the basic idea is that critical reflection is a good thing but is difficult to achieve. The suggestions for how one does are not a million miles from a programme of self-administered CBT. Some of the difficulties and consequences are outlined.

In the context of a recommendation by a colleague I respect, I found it helpful. (Nothing that follows goes against that.) But I’m intrigued by just how different the underpinning rhetoric is to a philosophy based article. Here are two differences. The first may just be terminological slip but, I think, suggests that the paper is not in the game I initially assumed. The second is a more general observation about the style of writing and argument.

First, as the abstract says, Larrivee thinks that one element of becoming a ‘reflective practitioner’ involves ‘developing a deliberate code of conduct’. Now that is an interesting claim. I take it that a code of conduct is a code: something codified or set out. It contrasts with doing the right thing in context. The latter might be an exercise of phronesis. A code, by contrast, sounds to be a principles-based explanation, or account, or rationalisation, of what the right thing to do is. This is a surprising comment because the whole of the rest of the paper implies the opposite of this view: that becoming a reflective practitioner is a matter of becoming a phronimos, not memorising a code. In fact, the paper only picks up the phrase ‘code of conduct’ three times:

Approaching teaching as a reflective practitioner involves infusing personal beliefs and values into a professional identity, resulting in developing a deliberate code of conduct. [ibid: 293]

Being successful in today’s classroom environment goes beyond taking on fragmented techniques for managing instruction, keeping students on-task, and handling student behavior. It requires that the teacher remain fluid and able to move in many directions, rather than stuck only being able to move in one direction as situations occur. Effective teaching is much more than a compilation of skills and strategies. It is a deliberate philosophical and ethical code of conduct. [ibid: 294]

The journey involves infusing personal beliefs and values into a professional identity, resulting in developing a deliberate code of conduct. [ibid: 306]

And so I think it merely an error to talk of a code. But how odd to use that phrase, and to make no attempt to head off the misunderstanding that the word ‘code’ might easily bring in its train, in the abstract and conclusion.

That’s probably just a slip. It does, however, make me wonder whether we are supposed to quibble with how precisely the claims are justified. Does Larrivee feel the need to get it exactly right? I wonder because there is a second and more interesting feature of the prose though there’s no knock down quotation. Let me just assemble a few comments and invite a reading of them.

In the introduction we have:

When teachers become reflective practitioners, they move beyond a knowledge base of discrete skills to a stage where they integrate and modify skills to fit specific contexts, and eventually, to a point where the skills are internalized enabling them to invent new strategies. They develop the necessary sense of self-efficacy to create personal solutions to problems. [ibid: 293]

The question that this prompts is: what is the status of these comments? How are we being invited to believe them? Larrivee says that ‘When teachers become reflective practitioners, they move beyond a knowledge base...’. Is that an empirical claim? There’s no supporting evidence. So I think that the best way to read most of these claims is as analytic. Larrivee is introducing  a concept: that of the reflective practitioner. It is then a matter of the meaning of that term (cf the married status of bachelors) that reflective practitioners move beyond a knowledge base of discrete skills. If someone does not do this then they are not, by definition, a reflective practitioner.

But that reading becomes strained.

In a later section which begins to outline the process of developing the relevant constituent skills, we read:

The challenge of effectively managing today’ s diverse classroom involves self reflection as well as critical inquiry. By developing self-reflection, teachers become more cognizant of the interdependence between teacher responses to students and student responses to teachers. Through self-reflection, teachers become increasingly aware of how they are interactive participants in classroom encounters rather than innocent bystanders, or victims. Self-reflection involves developing the ability to look at what is happening, withholding judgment, while simultaneously recognizing that the meaning we attribute to it is no more than our interpretation filtered through our cumulative experience. When teachers develop the practice of self-reflection, they learn to: (1) slow down their thinking and reasoning process to become more aware of how they perceive and react to students, and (2) bring to the surface some of their unconscious ways of responding to students. [ibid: 298]

The first sentence is a bold claim. But is the second an analytic unpacking of the definitional claim or a claim about how reflective teachers tend to think and be aware? Ditto the next sentence: ‘Through self-reflection, teachers become increasingly aware...’ Do they? Have studies been done? Or is this again a matter of what it would mean to be reflective? If it is all analytic then the claim: ‘When teachers develop the practice of self-reflection, they learn to: (1) slow down their thinking and reasoning process...’ seems quite strict. Suppose a teacher had all the other virtues of self-reflection but was really quick at it. Would we deny them the status? Must one be a bit slow?

One immedate response I had was that the talk of teachers really called for a quantifier before it. Does Larrivee mean ‘all teachers’ or ‘some teachers’. ‘All’ would seem too bold. ‘Some’ would seem too weak. Missing the quantifier makes it sound like a shampoo or moisturiser advert in the UK: “Hair becomes silky smooth. Skin feels soft.” Not ‘all skin’ or ‘some skin’ or ‘your skin’ which would no doubt risk advertising standards questioning. Just: ‘skin’ or ‘hair’.

What I suspect is going on here – and again this may just be obvious so forgive my dimness – is that a series a general claims (perhaps akin to Aristotelian categoricals: ‘humans have 32 teeth’) are being lined up for those for whom the empirical backing is not really an issue. That is, although I want to ask what the status is of the various claims, mine is not the right response to this style of writing. The right response is to recognise a pithy summary of something we, the readers, are already in a position to know. So the comments I have highlighted are just like the very first sentences in the paper:

Today’ s classroom is dynamic and complex. More students are coming to school neglected, abused, hungry, and ill-prepared to learn and work productively. To combat increasing student alienation, and meet the scope and intensity of the academic, social and emotional needs of today’ s students, those entering the teaching profession will need to find ways to create authentic learning communities by adjusting the power dynamics to turn power over into power with learners. [ibid: 293]

Now I took it that this was just chutzpah. But it may not be. It may be that the idea is to select the reader who will go on. Agree with this and you may recognise the truth in what follows. What follows is not meant to carry a burden of empirical or conceptual force (empirical evidence or a sound argument). It is supposed to marshal what the reader already knows.

If so, that’s fine. But it is a very different underlying logic to something that looks on the surface quite like other academic papers. In my case, I like the paper because I trust my sponsor. Thanks, William.