Curiosity-driven research: Does it exclude a market?

Max Weber in Kyoto, Doshisha University Library (女田図, 361.23||W-34, 閉架(B1F))

Dear reader,

who entered “Durkheim Science as a vacation” in an unknown search engine: Your query has been redirected: My article on the subject quotes Weber, Max – not Durkheim, Émile. Because the former is the author of a great essay on the subject of “Science as a Vocation” – a sort of death drive for recognition. The irony of Weber is that as soon as you are recognized as a substantial contributor to science, you will be most likely … retired.

From the viewpoint of many scholars in Germany it is understandable that students now protest against the implementation of the Bologna reforms. Cramming knowledge of centuries into a couple of semesters leaves little space for personal development or even … curiosity. But going on strike, c’mon, is it really going to revive 1968? We have deadlines, too.

The pleasure of the few is happiness for the many

Already Friedrich Nietzsche lamented the state of the German university back in 1872 (Über die Zukunft unserer Bildungsanstalten). In a conversation of a student and a philosopher-teacher, the student recalls:

“you used to say that no one would long for education if he knew how unbelievably small the number of truly educated people is and can be. And even this small number of truly educated is not really possible without the mass of others, who, against their nature, and determined only by a promising deception, get engaged in education.”

A double analogy at best. Many (the mass) adhere to an ideal of universal education. But for Nietzsche only a few (the truly educated) can attain that ideal. The mass follows an ideal brought down to a “national-economic” formula: “more knowledge and education, thus more production and in the end – more happiness.” If that is the rationale of education, personal development in a more liberal scheme will procure less happiness and less production. Dear reader, the path to less happiness will start with the right terms. And while some are quarreling with the terms, others are operating with factors.

Market accountability – where German and American universities differ

Nathan Rosenberg, professor emeritus of economics at Stanford, gave a lecture at the WZB in Berlin on the structural disparity of German and American universities. His basic assumption was that American higher education was “not a system” but rather an association of individual institutions. His three main points were: 1) research is heavily market oriented 2) graduate students are actively involved and recognized in research and 3) universities are a lot more “responsive” to demands from outside. He was bewildered by the ratio of students per professor in Germany and could not imagine how personal development of individual young researchers was possible under such conditions. A tacit voice from the audience replied: “It isn’t.” But above all he was making the claim that competition among universities for faculty, resources  and students was the driving force behind innovation. American universities are after all “economic institutions” who can manage their day-to-day affairs only on the basis of their interests from accumulated assets.

Stanford University, ⓒ A. Mager

A fellow doctoral student from the USC Annenberg School of Communication commented on a presentation he had seen on an eye-tracking software in Winterthur during a conference on Journalism Research in the Public Interest. The presenter was Sebastian Feuß from the University of Leipzig.  While Feuss presented his findings on the behavior of young people and their online reading/viewing habits in the interest of pure science, my fellow from the USC commented: “If I had that kind of equipment, I’d be a millionaire.” I wouldn’t doubt him. Descending into market orientation – whatever your market may be – is not a bad way to keep your research aligned with public interest. If you want to know a secret about the business world, it will be simple: “Keep the deadline!” Happiness galore.

Science as a Vacation

I don’t want to question the merits of either Peter Sloterdijk nor Rüdiger Safranski, both acclaimed philosophers in Germany, but point to a more general trend among the German humanities which explicitly deals with the break of symbolic exchanges in the Academia – in Germany and elsewhere probably. I am told that Safranski’s book on Nietzsche is highly readable and serves as a profound introduction for non-experts. For Sloterdijk, the case is harder, his “Sphären” (Spheres, as yet not translated into English, only Spanish as Esferas) repelled me when I glanced over the first sentences but I am not an expert on philosophy either. It might have its merits in certain respects among the community.

Both are good at writing it seems, but their TV show on ZDF shows the unbridgeable gap between the so called “ivory tower” of philosophy and the language of practitioners such as Otto Schilly, former German Minister of Interior. The subject was security and how to keep it. Schilly had been accused of curtailing civil liberties in the name of fighting terrorism during his term. It was Safranski, who started a monologue about how Ministers live in a safe environment with bullet proof windows, bodyguards and safe work spheres, that they imagine the outside world to be inherently hostile. Thus they perceive of the outside as a threat and enemy, passing stricter laws against criminals and terrorists even as a preemptive measure. Schilly had a laugh at the philosopher’s indulgence in his own words and “theorizing”. At this point the audience was undecided which threat to follow. I follow Schilly here, neither to endorse his reasoning, nor to get involved in the debate about security. But the pointlessness of such philosophic discourse was revealed in that very moment, as Safranski and Sloterdijk kept on pondering their ideas. It became clear that Schilly and the others were concerned with different sorts of questions. Where decisions mark the horizon of theorizing, philosophy turns into science as a vacation from decision-making. But more accurately, this sort of science has lost any contact with the public that makes it possible.

Max Weber wrote a marvelous article on “Science as a Vocation” in 1917 (several versions exist) where he detailed not only the exterior factors of the academic apparatus, the status relationships and financial structure, but more importantly the “inner disposition” of the scientist. The conclusion is that Science is dedicated to a “cause” first and foremost, but with the ultimate realization that any scientific achievement will be and wants to be surpassed. After struggling through the busy days of assistant, the new scientist steps up to a more influential position, where he is finally able to achieve his true vocation. But his findings will be at the hight of their time only for a short period of time – 10 years or 20 at the maximum. He will be criticized, refuted and ultimately he is forgotten. That has nothing to do with the shelf-life of books, it is the course of progress, according to Weber. Today, science is only rarely identified with a vocation but rather seen as a profession. This is in part founded on the break of symbolic relationships between professors and disciples that for a long time ensured the passing of knowledge outside the immediate realm of publications.

For Weber and others, the crowd of disciples has been the vanguard against oblivion. Whereas the natural sciences need a certain group of new staff for complex measurements and experimentation, the humanities have problems enticing new disciples to the challenge of being soon forgotten, because the idols in the the cosy ivory tower of narcissist reflection stay beyond their deadline of achievement. Certainly, there is always a spill-out of dubious texts on less obvious subjects in the humanities. No one should want to regard intellectual production only in the light of a subsequent publication. But for the most part, publications in the German “Geisteswissenschaften” seem to favor another interpretation of an interpretation of an interpretation.

This is especially true of Media Studies, which has lingered as an open form between philosophy, sociology and advertising research. The obligatory reference to Baudelaire when writing about the city, refers not only to an out-dated interpretation, but also obliterates the difference between a text and an observation. Writing about texts is a pleasurable and non-committing activity. For many, science is akin to vacation because they fear the price of true vocation. Instead of admitting their own ephemerality, the heads of the discipline cling to subjects of which they know nothing of, only to stay in the circuits of the media themselves. The reverse effect is that they thoroughly neglect their function as professors. But when the symbolic order of generational change is overridden by the financial calculus and neglect of teaching, science can not be at the service of society.

Photos: ZDF, Das Philosophische Quartett