As the Internet matures and becomes integrated with the institutional world around it, it is becoming increasingly clear that science fiction has disserved us. Although networked computing had already been familiar to many academic and military people for several years, it was taken up by popular culture in the context of the virtual reality craze whose canonical text was Gibson’s Neuromancer (1984). Compelling though Neuromancer was as myth, as a forecast it was quite backward. Gibson famously defined cyberspace as a space apart from the corporeal world — a hallucination. But the Internet is not growing apart from the world, but to the contrary is increasingly embedded in it.
Forecasting is a hazardous occupation, and among its many hazards is the mistake of overgeneralizing from transient aspects of one’s current-day reality. One prominent reality of computer use in the 1980s was the cumbersome nature of interfaces. The paradigm of computer use then, as for most people still, was the box: the desktop terminal, attached by wires to a processor, with a display screen and keyboard that were useless unless the user’s body was immobilized in a narrow range of postures. The desire to cast off these chains is widespread, and Gibson spoke for many in imagining that the constraints of the box could be cast off by plugging the darn thing directly into one’s brain.
Computer science, though, is headed in an entirely different direction. The great fashion in user interface research is to get out of the box, as they say, and to embed computers in the physical environment: in clothing, architecture, automobiles, and public places, letting the devices talk to one another wirelessly (Weiser 1993). Computing is to become ubiquitous and invisible, industrial design is to merge with system design, and indeed the very concept of computing is to give way to concepts such as writing reports, driving to work, and keeping in touch with one’s family. Computing, in short, is increasingly about the activities and relationships of real life, and the boundary between the real world and the world of computer-mediated services is steadily blurring away.
The early visions of cyberspace have disserved us in other ways. Certain aspects of Internet architecture and administration are decentralized, and this led to hopes that everything else would become decentralized as well. Information connoted freedom, and networks connoted Adam Smith’s market of artisans. Economics, however, has taught us that each of these associations is misleading. Information as an industrial input and output exhibits vast economies of scale (Arrow 1984: 142), and economies of scale frequently lead to industry concentration — witness the vast wave of merger activity currently going on in many industries and especially those related to information. Economics also teaches of network effects, which can persuade the whole world to adopt an open protocol like TCP/IP but which also create natural monopolies for any private good whose value to customers lies mainly in the number of other people who have it (Katz and Shapiro 1994). It is clear, therefore, that we need to retool our intuitions if we want to understand the real world of networked computing, much less do anything about it. But why have our intuitions been so wrong? The things that seem newest are in fact very old, and Neuromancer is a good example. It is an archaic tale of shamanic journeys overlaid with the symbolism of computers and the dystopian narrative of the wounded hero that also gave us Sylvester Stallone’s film version of Rambo (Gibson 1994). We do need more shamans, it is true, but we will not find them in the false lower world of the circuit boards. To seek that kind of wisdom, we must look deeper into the reality of the counterintuitive coevolution between information technology and the rest of the real world. Some guidance in this project can be had in the work of economic sociologists such as Karl Polanyi (1957), who urged that the formal logic of the market as an allocational mechanism for distributing scarce goods must be understood as something embedded in, and analytically inseparable from, the substantive workings of the social world. Recent scholars of this tradition such as Mark Granovetter (1992) and Walter Powell and Paul DiMaggio have developed this theme more fully by investigating the ways in which market phenomena are structured by phenomena such as social networks and cultural meanings. A similar perspective can be applied to computing. Although the formalisms of computer science and the esoteric concerns of computer scientists can mislead us into treating computers and computer work abstractly as an autonomous realm unto themselves, serious empirical work demonstrates the many ways in which they are embedded in a broader world of social relationships and social processes. In the case of the Internet we can see this embedding in many ways. I will describe three of them here.
First, we can look at some of the institutional preconditions that almost miraculously made the Internet possible. Contending theories of social order emphasize centralization and decentralization, but in fact the Internet grew out of a special combination of the two. ARPA was located at both the center and the periphery, in different ways, of a powerful institutional order. Its centralized support enabled a loosely organized process of producing public goods, namely technical standards. And then NSF’s policies, broadly supported by the university community, established the critical mass that was necessary to set network effects in motion. Those effects, which we experienced as the explosive growth of the Internet in the last five years, had as their preconditions the great power and the equally great obliviousness of at least two other monopolies: AT&T, which built a robust telephone network that carried the ARPANET’s bits from its earliest days, but which failed to embrace and extend the network when it had a chance, and IBM, which had the power to establish a standard for personal computers, but which saw the need for such a standard coming so late that it passed on an opportunity to take control of the rest of the networked desktop. Between them, these powers fortuitously gave rise to a niche that the Internet was able to occupy. This niche was so cleanly defined that it was taken for granted in the background, and the firms that benefitted from it were able to believe that they did it themselves. A second aspect of the Internet’s embedding in the social world pertains to its user communities. So long as we persist in opposing so-called virtual communities to the face-to-face communities of the mythical opposite extreme, we miss the ways in which real communities of practice employ a whole ecology of media as they think together about the matters that concern them (Agre 1998a). And so long as we focus on the limited areas of the Internet where people engage in fantasy play that is intentionally disconnected from their real-world identities, we miss how social and professional identities are continuous across several media, and how people use those several media to develop their identities in ways that carry over to other settings (Wynn and Katz 1997). Just as most people don’t define their activities in terms of computers, most people using Internet services are mainly concerned with the real-world matters to which their discussions and activities in the use of those services pertain.
A third and final aspect of the Internet’s embedding in the real world is the process of social shaping through which the Internet’s architecture on various layers evolves. This is a large and complex story, but I want to draw particular attention to the ideas about people’s lives that are inscribed in the code (Agre 1998b). For example, the Internet was originally designed for the scientific community, and its architecture reflected a whole set of background assumptions about that community, for example its high capacity for self-regulation, its openness, and its relative lack of concern with exchanging money. As new communities began to appropriate the architecture for their own purposes, all of those background assumptions came to the surface in the form of security holes and other problems. Although the architecture exhibits the same inertia as any other standard, it is fortunately not entirely inert, and it is now evolving through the vast feedback process through which user communities’ experiences give rise to a discourse of controversies and agendas and opportunities, and these give rise to new architectural ideas in turn. We can best see the Internet’s embedding in the real world by seeing the Internet of this year or any other year as a snapshot of something in motion, and as one element of a variety of much larger institutional fields which are themselves very much in motion. All of this is most unfortunate in a way. If we could escape into a parallel world of cyberspace then we could ignore the emerging sprawl of nontransparent and undemocratic institutions of global governance that increasingly order our electronic and nonelectronic lives. But that’s how it is, and we need to deal with it by recommitting ourselves to the values of democracy here in the real world.
References
Philip E. Agre, Designing genres for new media, in Steve Jones, ed, CyberSociety 2.0: Revisiting CMC and Community, Sage, 1998a.
Philip E. Agre, The Internet and public discourse, First Monday 3(3), 1998b.
Kenneth J. Arrow, Collected Papers, Volume 4: The Economics of Information, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984.
James William Gibson, Warrior Dreams: Paramilitary Culture in Post-Vietnam America, New York: Hill and Wang, 1994.
William Gibson, Neuromancer, New York: Ace Books, 1984.
Mark Granovetter, Economic institutions as social constructions: A framework for analysis, Acta Sociologica 35(1), 1992, pages 3-11.
Michael L. Katz and Carl Shapiro, Systems competition and network effects, Journal of Economic Perspectives 8(2), 1994, pages 93-115.
Karl Polanyi, The economy as an instituted process, in Karl Polanyi, Conrad M. Arensberg, and Harry W. Pearson, eds, Trade and Market in the Early Empires: Economies in History and Theory, Glencoe, IL: Free Press, 1957.
Walter W. Powell and Paul J. DiMaggio, eds, The New Institutionalism in Organizational Analysis, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1991.
Mark Weiser, Ubiquitous computing, Computer 26(10), 1993, pages 71-72.
Eleanor Wynn and James E. Katz, Hyperbole over cyberspace: Self-presentation and social boundaries in Internet home pages and discourse, The Information Society 13(4), 1997, pages 297-327.
author’s address: email: pagre@alpha.oac.ucla.edu
http://dlis.gseis.ucla.edu/pagre/
As a psychologist, I know. There are two enduring clich‚s about psychologists. The first is that because of their training, psychologists can see straight into your soul. The second is that they, of all people, should know better. If you know psychology, surely you will be able to prevent making the mistakes, the mess the rest of us plodders tend at times to make of our lives. If you know psychology, surely you should be able to apply that knowledge and therefore succeed in making a smashing success of your life. Although both clich‚s irritate when encountered (at birthday parties from an uncle, but just as easily in conversation at, say an EASST conference), especially the latter occurred to me at the WTMC conference “STS after 2000”, held from the 23rd to the 25th of June at Rolduc, a monastery-cum- conference-centre in the south of the Netherlands. Before explaining how I came to think of clich‚s about psychology in relation to this conference, let me give you some facts for orientation.
“STS after 2000” was the somewhat grandiose name for a conference in which members of the Dutch graduate school WTMC (The Netherlands Graduate School of Science, Technology and Modern Culture) came together to evaluate their past and dream up a future. This was not so much instigated by the fear that the graduate school might not be millenium-proof, but in view of the reappraisal of the graduate school by the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences. In 1994, the flourishing graduate program for Ph.D. students in Dutch Science & Technology Studies (LOOWTOK, later NGS.STS) was transformed into the graduate school WTMC, complete with research programme, scientific director, and letterhead. The graduate school successfully applied for recognition by the Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences for a period of five years: 1995 _ 1999. After this five-year period, the school is re-appraised by the academy on the basis of an evaluation of the school and its plans for the future. As part of the trajectory to evaluate and plan the future of WTMC, a three-day WTMC conference was organised in which a variety of aims were to be met. WTMC was to rethink where it is heading and to fix on a narrative about where it has come from. Moreover, several Distinguished Foreign Guests (DFGs) were invited to participate in a peer review of the past 5 years (Harry Collins, Bruno Latour, Thomas Nickles, Trevor Pinch, Theodore Porter, and Rosalind Williams). Thirdly, a few representatives of groups considering joining WTMC were invited to make a mutual first acquaintance. And finally, quite a large number of research proposals developed by groups of members prior to the conference were to serve as building blocks for structuring the WTMC’s future research program. The first day was set apart for the past, the second for the future, and the third for teaching and of course, for the obligatory grand finale. I will discuss the three days one after the other.
I won’t speak about the in-between time, the coffee breaks, the bar, the walks outside past the very young deer with antlers like malleable velvet, or the tour of the monastery by such-a-nice-catholic-boy who incorporated a streak of SSK into his talk. (Well, briefly about this streak of SSK. In the crypt of the church, the eloquent student who was our guide told us to lay the body of the founder of the monastery. At one particular anniversary some enterprising souls decided to find out whether the bones that lay there were in fact the ones they thought they were. We all started laughing at this point in the story, and our guide was somewhat taken aback that we seemed to have guessed the end. The bones were researched scientifically and it was proven beyond a doubt that the bones were only about three hundred years old, and were the bones of a man, a woman and a child. None of this, our guide hastened to add, shook the faith. They did, however, decide not to check whether an ancestor of Beatrix [the Queen of The Netherlands] who was buried in the aisle of the church was valid _ quite a practical decision, since they weren’t even sure if anything at all was buried in the aisle in the first place.) The in-between time, which fortunately was amply provided, is often the best time at any conference. It’s when plans are made, bygones become bygones, friendships are reaffirmed, gossip swarms, points are made, jobs are suggested. I’m sure that what was discussed at the bar will prove at least as decisive for the future of WTMC as what was discussed outside the bar _ so ask me over drinks, and I’ll tell you what went on in my corner.
Is there anything worth remembering?”
The first day was devoted to the past. What have we done? How far have we come? Do we like what we see when we take stock? The day was ordered into four subsequent plenary sessions each discussing a subprogram. Each session began with a brief introduction by the chair and/or co-ordinator of the subprogram and a commentary by a DFG. Three things came up instantaneously and did not go away. First, a conversation started on what the status and function of the subprograms had been. Second, discussion erupted on how to evaluate. And third, a process of identification/differentiation sprang up: who’s us and who’s them?
The subprograms are a way of presenting our individually instigated, research activities in a somewhat coherent manner. But as we all know (although no-one bothered to mention it at the time) once you dream up an order, no matter how much of a “mere paper construct” it is, this paper construct is likely to start having a life of its own. And then one has to start dealing with this paper construct. So we tried. There were differences among the subprograms as well as under the commentators of the subprograms. Subprogram 1 (Diagnosis of the Modern Research System), for example, noted a communal involvement in the characterisation of the evolution of (primarily) national research systems (which is to be expanded to an interest in Europe in the future), whereas especially Rein de Wilde, in his presentation of subprogram 3 (Cultural and political roles of science, technology, and rationality) felt pressed to assume for the moment that a subprogram did in fact exist. Leaning on that assumption he had no trouble pointing out some common concerns, that the research plots used are usually pro-differences and against purity, reductionism. He also noted some highlights, for instance, the special issue on mobility (in K&M: Tijdschrift voor Empirische Filosofie [Knowledge & Method: Journal for Empirical Philosophy] 1998, 22 (1)), with articles from WTMC members on cultural imagery of mobility and travel. (Mobility: Spaces, Times and Cultures of Contention [Ginette Verstraete] is also a research project formulated for the future WTMC research program). Again and again, however, it was concluded that the subprograms did not (sufficiently) facilitate collaboration amongst researchers from different research groups, did not represent coherence, did not in fact exist. The question then becomes, is this necessarily a bad thing? We didn’t agree. Some thought the appearance of coherence ought to be enough, others reckoned coherence through and through might be the more moral way to go, while others yet again questioned the value of coherence as such: more differences is what we need.
Secondly, an interesting drift kept happening. You know, there you are, talking about whether subprogram 3 (Cultural and political roles of science, technology, and rationality) ought to have more ethnographic research, or whether Occam’s Razor is really the appropriate instrument to reduce the proliferation of theoretical concepts, or whether it is true that less and less attention is being paid to “traditional” science in favour of technology, and slowly but surely the discussion moves towards reflexive, “meta” questions: how do we account for the work we’ve done? How to agree among ourselves? (Has anyone ever witnessed an agreement, Olga Amsterdamska asked, when more than one WTMC-er is present?) How to do this conference? Harry Collins expressed the insecurity of the DFGs about how to go about evaluating a national program, especially when it keeps slipping into meta-questions. (But surely, slipping into meta-questions and showing them not to be only meta is part of the game.)
The third issue that emerged was that of insiders and outsiders. This theme first sparked when talking about scientometrics. Is scientometrics inside STS or out? And should it be in? What do we lose when it’s out? And should we bring in more economy? What do we want from them? Should we relate more to our neighbouring `mother’ disciplines and empirical fields? Or should we take care that they don’t colonise us? Should we bring in more political philosophy? Hail in the Big Questions? Or ought we better to stick with what we’re good at, what we are: STS after all? Are we too Dutch or not Dutch enough? Is cultural studies already part of us? Are we a real discipline or de we want to celebrate our differences? Are we strong enough but maybe they are too? Or are we still too weak because they just don’t understand?
This us-and-them-ing was quite remarkable when scientometrics was discussed. While we profess to love (rather than criticize, castigate) science and technology and the quantitative slant associated with a lot of it, when it comes to loving what is closer to home, this stance may show some cracks. Loet Leydesdorff’s analysis of and concern about the divergence of our field (theory, policy, and scientometrics not speaking to one another), provoked some interesting responses; Loving science, for some, apparently does not mean appreciating or wanting the quantifying slant of scientometrics.
Quite early on, Gerard de Vries had suggested some etiquette - politeness at the bar, rudeness during working hours. Although I’m sure this did not eliminate all of the tiptoeing during the plenary sessions, it did prove, especially during the first day, to be a good description of how we conducted ourselves. One of the unfortunate effects is that rudeness does not make for elaborate complimenting. Much to some of our DFG’s surprise, we were elaborate and specific in breast beating, and broad, brief and vague in our satisfaction. Yes, we had worked hard, and come far. Yes, we now know more than we did before. But both during the conference and as was evident in the written reports about the subprograms, the analysis of our weaknesses, but particularly of our strengths still needs doing.
The eyes of the world are upon you”
Our DFGs did not tire of telling us how pretty amazing WTMC is. This is partly, I think, because they tend to think of The Netherlands as such a small country, that they cannot believe how big WTMC is, how much funding we seem to be getting, how much work we’ve been doing, and how much we are growing. WTMC appears as a big experiment, and STS elsewhere is watching and waiting for the results _ shall they replicate?
On the second day, the future of this big experiment was planned. One of the major problems of this day was the strain between substance and administration: window-dressing versus the real issues, politics versus substance, technical issues versus substantive issues, administrative topics versus scholarly debate. In different guises, this basic distinction kept popping up in an uncomfortable manner. The day was organised, again, into four plenary sessions discussing four subprograms _ new subprograms, but recognisably related to the old ones. These programs consisted of a set of research proposals by WTMC members on perceived lacunas or strengths. Here are a few examples. The new subprogram two included a proposal about Public Understanding of Science and Governance (Rob Hagendijk & Paul Wouters), a topic much in evidence internationally, but not taken up as yet in Dutch STS, which focused on the role of emerging intermediary institutions. Two akin projects are A Philosophy of Standards (Rein de Wilde) which attempts to bring in an historical perspective to studies of standardisation and to how to make standardisation relevant to public concerns, and Objectivity and Subjectivity in the Social Sciences and Society (Trudy Dehue)) which focuses on the specificity of the social sciences and the pulls towards universality as well as particularity. In subprogram three, Sjaak Koenis and Hans Harbers formulated a project on Politics and Social Cohesion in a Technological Culture which, like several other project proposals, extends the interest in Dutch STS on things and thingness. This project aims to connect STS with issues of social theory and political philosophy. Thinking about how to incorporate the material turn, they ask about new ways of community formation and about the (effects of the) perceived displacement of politics. The Mediated Body (Jos‚ van Dijck, Renee van der Vall, Jo Wachelder & Rob Zwijnenberg) presented a set of four research projects all in different ways relating STS and art-historical notions to a study of the body.
Each session was to discuss and relate such a diverse set of projects. The DFGs were asked to comment at the beginning of the session. Those introducing the sessions typically gave an overview of the links between the projects making up the subprogram. However, Wiebe Bijker stressed that the organisation of the program and the projects into four subprograms was an administrative issue, which ought not concern us. We should take the opportunity to stick to substance. But how do you speak about substance when the way this substance is ordered is only provisional? How do you extract themes from a cluster of project proposals, when you have to ignore the clustering?
One of the low points occurred during the discussion of what was to be the new third subprogram. Probably more because of the pent-up frustrations about how the meeting was proceeding, than a reflection on the particular research proposed as part of this subprogram, this debate refused to flow. More particularly, it refused to flow on the topic of normativity. Now, as we all know, normativity remains a hot topic. So we had a little debate on what it means, how to do it, whether to do it all the time, etc. But let’s not be delicate nor coy. We have a lot more to say about normativity than was said in that room at that time. But not in general, not in abstract, not for window-dressing or for argument’s sake. But in particular. I don’t really need to tell anyone that the general questions (Shall we be normative or not? How and when and why?) sort of depends. Are we talking about Information Society and Cultural Heritage (a research project by Jack Post & Philip Brey) or philosophy of scientific experimentation (part of Hans Radder’s project proposal)? Hang on, not to say that only one of the two warrants normativity. On the contrary. But surely a very different kind. Nope, heard nothing on experimentation nor on internet. Heard lots of talk about crafts and canon, but nowhere to be seen. Lots of stirring from cultural studies also, but is `Thou shalt give voice!’ really the best you can do? The mantra of substance-substance-substance repeated over and over, but the word alone won’t provide the stuff. We were getting a bit worse for wear when Jos‚ van Dijck made a heartfelt plea for talk of the content of the research proposals everyone had produced. However, like Wiebe’s call for ignoring administration, this call for substance also reproduced the dichotomy between administration and content. We could’ve gone on to do what we are good at: deconstructing the basic distinctions between the administrative side of things and the content, but we didn’t. And exactly at that moment, I thought about the clich‚s of psychology. WTMC-ers apparently are as unable as psychologists to apply what they know to themselves. If you know STS, if you know what WTMC is about (and as members, we are better qualified maybe than anyone else to know), surely we could apply this insight into how to do a conference on WTMC?
Which brings us nicely to another topic discussed on day 2. Maybe we’re not good at applying our own insights to ourselves, but we spend quality-time elaborating how applying knowledge is not simply a matter of application, nor of knowledge. Rein de Wilde’s introduction of what may become the new subprogram 2 (technology-development and societal regulation) focused on what we now seem to know. He spoke of the proliferation of irony, the sense emerging that finally coherence is really lost, fragmentation is rampant. What are we to do?
What we are most likely to do, Bruno Latour pointed out, is to study this phenomenon. But are studies the best way to go? Are studies all we can do? Are studies what we ought to be doing? If the problems as we define them are big and urgent (How to design new types of regulation or co-ordination? How to rethink governing without mastery? How to do democracy?) what type of research, what kind of illumination, what kind of acts might be appropriate? This of course, provoked some of the audience. Action research, normative turn, the age-old problems of political philosophy, all nice and well, but let’s get real guys, let’s just for a moment pace ourselves: we’re great, we’re marvellous, we know a lot, sure! But, we’re small. Our competence is in the analysis of science and technology. How much can we really contribute to saving the world? Is what we know maybe not a little more specific? It’s beautiful that we want to be good, but let’s not end up being stupid.
In the session on the fourth new program two projects were discussed, Olga Amsterdamska’s Social Studies of Medicine and Klasien Horstman’s Genetics and Society. The first project’s broad title is a good representation of the diverse ways in which medicine is studied by WTMC researchers. Maybe it was because it was after dinner, but after a long day of trying to find ways of talking substance with too many people, too many links to be made, too many touchy temperaments, the discussion of these projects was a relief. How to put values at stake in research of genetics and recent developments in the health care system? How large or small should these values be? Do we have a responsibility to make the world a better place for our children? What’s money got to do with it? How much imagination is needed and how little available in genetics? How different or similar is medicine from other practices. Nice questions. Good discussion.
Summing up the future. No, I don’t think we managed. We did formulate some good dilemmas though. How to combine our reflex to want to know more about ever more things, with what this drive makes us know, that knowledge is not always good, that modesty may be a necessity. How to manage our curiosity and eagerness to somehow incorporate all important questions and empirical domains, while retaining our specific focus, our crafts, our perspective.
“The jewel in the crown”
The third day started with a discussion of the graduate program. Basically, this program consists of a local component, which we did not discuss because at present it is the responsibility of supervisors and departments, rather than WTMC, and a (inter)national component. This latter component is a trajectory of 4 workshops and 2 summerschools in the first two years of a Ph.D’s researc project, and two winterschools in the last two years. DFGs, members, and Ph.D. students were exceptionally pleased with the graduate program. This, it was repeated again and again, was WTMC’s pride and joy, the main blossoming business, the thing to absolutely keep. Several worries were identified. First, given that the field seems to be diversifying, how do you incorporate such broadening in the educational program without making it superficial? And second, should we introduce some kind of core-workshop, core-readinglist in order to provide a common basis for Ph.D. students?
A serious concern about Ph.D.s in general is the time they (we) take to finish the book. Although everybody seems worried about it, it should not be concluded that everybody worries for the same reasons. An administrator worried about money lost and figures not adding up, has other stakes than a Ph.D. student wanting to have a life (and a job) left when finally she’s done. A supervisor concerned that a student isn’t producing chapters, is something else than a student frustrated that the supervision promised is not forthcoming. One route is to think not about how to hurry up, but how to get more time. Another suggestion was to try and find out what facilitates quick (and good) work.
“Let’s keep the club”
Wiebe Bijker presented the kick-off for the grand finale. He started with a minimalist statement. At the very least, we’re something like a club: let’s keep it. He proceeded by identifying some of the ways in which WTMC seems to work (e.g. we don’t function in subprograms, but in smaller groups of 1 to 6 collaborating researchers), and by suggesting a structure for organising research. A scheme that retains three of the subprograms (vertical pillars) and introduces horizontally organised thematic groups, which would be collaborative, centrally co-ordinated externally funded efforts. These latter horizontal groups might take as an example the current TIN20 project (presented by Johan Schot), a huge research-effort on the history of technology in the Netherlands from 1890 to 1970 which is producing as we speak something not unlike an encyclopaedia on twentieth century Dutch technology. Some responses from the floor: How to facilitate such a structure? How to control the research when such a substantial part of the program is set-up around externally funded themes? How to account for and make visible research that does not fall under either a subprogram or a thematic group? And more procedural remarks asking the board to continue financial support of the formulation of genuinely collaborative research-projects, and to improve lines of communication between the board and WTMC at large.
All in all, one of the recurring themes in the debates was whether WTMC should be understood as (or should aim to be) Dutch STS, a fairly young but steadily growing interdisciplinary discipline, with its own set of methods, tools, big men, and must-reads, or that WTMC cuts through (or should aim to traverse) in preferably new and exciting ways a diversity of disciplines, amongst which STS, but also, in particular, cultural studies and economics. Do we build a discipline by telling each new PhD student the saga of STS and teaching her our lore? Or do we whisper in her ear: it’s a new craft, we’re not sure what it is yet, but it’s mighty exciting? Do we face up and get down to it, or do we protect the value, the luxury of where interdisciplinary work might take us? Can’t we do both? These recurring fundamental questions reminded me of my very first association when I was told that we would be having this conference at Rolduc. (Psychology again.)
When I was a psychology student, rumours were always strong about Rolduc. Every year, advanced students of clinical psychology would go there to do something mysterious. The idea was that those who wanted later to become therapists would have to go through some kind of therapy themselves. So, off they went to Rolduc for a dose of group therapy. It was said that their time at Rolduc was spent in bare rooms and in unstructured group-sessions from which would eventually emerge group-leaders, scapegoats, big fights, despairing participants’ sobs. It was said that they had to go deep, they had to go beyond. Issues were raised, things were said. No one was the same. From our perspective (that is, the few of us in the department for theoretical and historical research of psychology: those of us who thought ourselves quite different) it was clear: Rolduc was definitely a place you did not want to be.
As I realised when the discussions rolled on and on about what we are and what we want to be, Rolduc, or more generally WTMC is a place I do want to be (and fortunately, it’s not much like clinical psychology _ no one cried, I think). And seeing how many of us had come, others do too. And as is usually the case when something has been organised: people moan. We moaned beforehand (what are we supposed to be doing?). We moaned during (what are we supposed to be doing?). And we moan after (what were we supposed to be doing.) But hey, take it as a compliment, we wouldn’t moan if we didn’t like you.
author’s address: r.benschop@tss.unimaas.nl